Refuge of Glass (January 3010) - [Finlach]

It had been a relatively uneventful day in the shop. Both Finlach and Beorhtmund were in. His mother had recovered sufficiently that she had been sowing when they left the house for the days work. He’d been getting a full nights sleep and his red ringed eyes had completely gone.

He was working on some stock items for the shop, just vases and the like, items to adorn the shelf to be purchased by people not looking for a custom order. Thus, when the door to the shop opened, he paid it no attention as the potential customer would be seen to by his grandfather. Nor did he notice when no one spoke until...

”Hello, Fin, Father said you might have finished the beads.”

That was a voice he could never mistake. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Niphredil standing there.

“Oh. Uhmmm. Yes. One moment.” He pulled the glass vase out of the furnace, and as it was something that couldn’t simply be put down, for it would cool into an ugly clump, he had to work quickly to blow it into the desired shape. He knew Niffy would be patient until he’d finished and so wasn’t worried in that regard. Once he was done, and what was a globular shape now resembled an elongated glass beaker, he placed it down and dusting his hands on his work apron, turned to face Niphredil.

”I…hope I’m not disturbing you,”

“Of course not.” He said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beorhtmund quietly edging from behind the desk. Fin frowned, and the old man returned his look, raising his brows pointedly. Fin’s expression morphed to show his puzzlement, but the old man was out of the door without a word.

Ignoring how odd that was, his gaze returned to Niphredil, his green eyes roving over her face before dropping to the side. The little interchange with his grandad, before he snuck out of the shop had momentarily made him forget what Niffy was doing in the shop. Not that the visit was unwanted, but he was certain she had come for a reason.

“Oh. Yes. The beads.” Fin said, looking up brightly, and quickly dodging around her, went out the back. He returned moments later holding a leather piece of cloth, bound with string that made a pouch. He walked back to the counter his grandfather had vacated and beckoned Niffy over.

Finlach pulled one piece of the string, and unwrapped it from the leather, revealing a good three score of beads. Straightening up, so as not to block the light, he let Niffy are his work.

“Oh. Wait.” He thought suddenly, and ducked under the desk, coming back up a second later, narrowly missing bumping his head on the wooden counter. In his hand was a large piece of white cloth, it was the best cloth money could buy, used only for showing off merchandise. Fin spread it on the counter and then picked out one of each bead he made, laying it on the cloth. Then he glanced up at Niffy, a hesitant smile on his face, waiting to see if she liked and approved of the work.

“White.” He said pointing to the cloth. “So you can see what they’ll look like on the gown.” He said, whilst trying to gesture out the meaning of his words, from pointing to Niffy, the his eyes, then waving his hands down his body and out to indicate a dress, before pointing to his ring finger.

In his excitement he didn’t realise how ridiculous he looked, and clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes firmly rooted to the ground between his feet.

Still holding his hands up, indicating his ring finger, he chanced a fleeting glance, that held longer than normal on account of Niffy frowning. For a heart stopping moment he assumed she hated the beads, and they were not what she wished for the gown. As many times as he'd faced rejection, it sunk his heart more knowing he had disappointed Niphredil, he valued her good opinion.

“Fin,”

His brows came together, trying to fend off looking wounded. If she didn't like his craftmanship, he didn't want her to feel guilty in saying so. Every now and then his eyes darted back to her, like a moth to flame.

“…Oh,”

"Oh?" He questioned, looking utterly perplexed, until he saw she was staring at his hands, and when he followed his gaze, he realised he was still pointing to his ring finger... In front of a girl no longer able to hear, with no real context except his rapid gestures that were seemingly incomprehensible. She must be thinking...

"Oh!" Fin flushed deep red, almost to the same shade as his hair, belatedly dropping his hands to his side, though not for long, as he was soon wringing his fingers. It had been a clumsy gesture, easy to misinterpret. What she must think of him! He thought, mortified. Niphredil was a beautiful young woman, deserving of a loving husband and children of her own, but there was no way she would stoop to someone as clumsy as him. He knew the boundaries, she saw him as dear a friend as he saw her. There was nothing more to it than that, he would be an utter fool to think otherwise.

There was a momentary shuffle of awkwardness, that felt like it went on an hour. He was desperately scrambling for some way to redeem the situation, or something to say, except he was beyond nervous, to the point when he put his hand on the counter to stop from fidgeting, he nearly knocked off the cloth and the beads and had to scrabble to prevent a disastrous breakage. He settled for clasping his hands together and standing still, whilst still internally flailing for something to say.

“The bride will love them,”

"Good. Yes. Good." He mumbled quickly, forgetting that Niffy was now deaf and couldn't hear him, nor read his lips with his head bowed. It did nothing to hide the red tinge to his ears. He scratched the back of his head nervously.

“I brought your coat back. Thank you for letting us borrow it!”

The coat was practically thrust into his arms, and he kept hold of it, happy to at last have something to keep his hands busy with.

"No trouble. No trouble at all." He mumbled again, walking over to the hook, intending to hang his coat up, and nearly missing it, and having to catch it and properly place it on the hook. He turned back to Niphredil, smiling with sheer embarrassment, before dropping his gaze. Surely he had to apologise for his blunder, and putting her in a tight spot like that.

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to... I'd never presume to ask... It's just that a girl like you, well you understand, I'd never expect you to think of me..." Fin hesitated, flailing and struggling to find a way to finish his sentences without causing more anguish for them both. All the while forgetting that he was speaking too quickly for his lips to be read, and that she was unable to hear. However, glancing at her, remembering the days when she had been so embroiled with her music, and so lively, it made him forget her hearing impairment.

"Not that I don't think you're beautiful..." He flushed again, and cursed himself for being such a dolt. "I'm sorry." He repeated pathetically, looking at her sheepishly. After this, he wouldn't be surprised if she never visited his shop again.

"But the beads. I'm glad you approve of the beads." He said, his eyes moving toward the glass on the counter, whilst his thoughts raced through his brain at a mile a minute. Fin would do well if he could but keep the subject on course, and not deviate away from it. He was on safe ground with the beads, with no way he could further humiliate himself, or Niffy.

“The beads are indeed beautiful,”

And yet they were nothing in comparison to Niphredil, he thought. An instant later feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. She was not his to love, nor would she ever take him. The mix up has shown her good grace and loveliness, she would have been immensely polite, but firm in rejecting him. It was something he’d not subject her to, or himself. He nodded, smiling once more, glad that they were so pleasing to him.

Yet, as she glanced down at some papers in her hand, her features lost their happiness, even looking worried as her shoulders sagged. He frowned, but chose to say nothing for now, assuming he had upset her with his fumbling earlier.

”I can’t wait to bring them back and show Father, he will be impressed as well, I was hoping…I was hoping if you were not too busy, I might stay here for a time to work?”

He began wrapping the beads back up in the pouch, when he looked up at her request. It wasn’t the first time she had asked such a thing, with more frequency during the winter months. Not even the heat of his shop had been enough to prevent her from getting the terrible flu that had taken her hearing. This was the first time she had asked this since being ill, and in truth, he had missed her company. It’d be good to have her in the shop, as a gently presence to go along with his grandfather’s workaholic-tendencies. It seemed that Fin went from one job to the next when Beorhtmund was there to remind him of all the work that needed doing.

”The shop’s been…busy…this morning,”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” He replied, leaving the pouch with her, and moving to the work bench to make some space for her, and bringing a stool from the back with which she could seat herself on to work. Then he held out an arm, bowing low in a show of graciousness that was slightly teasing. It was how they had used to tease each other, pretending they were great lords and ladies.

“Please, your grace.” He added, grinning at her, his eyes bright green once more. Once she was comfortable, he returned to the furnace, looking over his shoulder once, just to make sure she had everything she needed.

Almost an hour went past, his grandfather had not returned. Fin presumed he had gone to see to his mother, and in that time he had nearly finished a second vase. As he was putting the final touches to the shape, he happened to look up and observe Niffy. Something about the expression she was wearing troubled him lightly. He sensed, rather than knew for certain, that something wasn’t right. The way her shoulders seemed hunched and tense, the bent of her eye, the slowness with which she was working, and how in truth, she seemed distracted whilst appearing utterly focused on her work.

He put aside what he was doing, and glanced over at Niffy, who seem engrossed in her work. The only thing unusual was just how focused she appeared to be, and the faint line between her eyes that suggested something was playing on her mind. Initially, he thought it might be her deafness, prior to losing her hearing, she would sit in his shop and play her harp. Those days had gone, and it made him sad, more so to think how badly bereft she felt.

Still, as he dusted his hands off, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more deeply wrong that merely that. Tentatively he walked over, ever careful not to startle her. It wasn’t like she could hear him approach, and so he placed a hand on the edge of the table, in her peripheral vision until she noticed and looked up at him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. There were rare occasions, like now, where he was able to hold eye contact, at least longer than normal. Upon asking a question like he had, he felt like he was prying, and so reluctantly his eyes dropped down once more.

This time she hesitated, not meeting his eye, and instead looking back down to the paper in her hand. Fin had no idea what its significance was, or why she looked so sorrowful staring at it, not that he made any move to read it without her consent.

”I…”

His brows came together, as he began to get earnestly concerned about her. This was no mere forlornness of feeling, she had encountered some circumstance to make her so shaken up. It was in that moment, her voice paralysed into silence, that she slid the paper she had been regarding toward him.

”This man. A boy, he wasn’t even full grown…he came in to the shop today. A soldier.”

The note was turned for him to read, though he didn’t look down at it yet.

”I…don’t want to, I don’t think he has listened for my decline, though. Fin…what do I do?”

Hearing her plea, he turned his green eyes to the letter and read it. His heart sunk heavily at each word. Reading the platitudes Fin himself had not been able to share with her. Nor could he, seeing how the author of this had made them, and her reaction to the words. Would he not be rejected just as plainly?

Finlach’s immediate response was to tell her not to go. It was selfish and hardly his place. Although, even she had said she didn’t want to go and the man had not listened to hear her refusal. It left him unsure of what he ought to say to her, or what he was permitted to say to such a thing.

Finally his eyes braved a look at her. She looked wretched and lost, making his heart ache, for he would have done anything to remove such suffering from her features.

“Fred,” he began, unaware he’d used his own pet name for her. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.” He said slowly, hoping she understood what he was saying. Part of him felt selfish for saying so, but it was also her desire not to embark on a courtship with this unknown soldier. Fin then reached out for a scrap of paper off the work bench that he used for taking down measurements and details for his own work. Quickly, he scrawled a reply more clearly understood for Niffy’s benefit.

No one can force you to accompany this man. And if you wish, we can manufacture a reason why you can’t meet with him.

He pushed the note toward her, worrying his bottom lip. Fin could not speak for her, but he could be her very good friend, as always, and help remove her from a situation that would make her uncomfortable.