Anwen and Lirien : An Ethereal Friendship

The warm glow of The Black Swan Inn’s hearth cast flickering shadows across the walls of the grand, empty dining hall. Anwen, small and slight, slipped quietly through the door she had nudged open just wide enough to fit her frame. The inn was closed, its usual bustle silenced, and the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire.   Anwen clutched a small wooden bird in her hand, a toy she had carved herself with her father’s old knife. She had spent hours perfecting it, smoothing its edges until it felt like silk under her fingertips. Tonight, she planned to leave it for Lirien, her silent friend. The mere thought of their unspoken bond brought a smile to her lips.   She made her way to the spot where she usually left her gifts, a small alcove near the staircase. The space was out of sight but perfectly visible to Lirien as he went about his nightly tasks. Anwen placed the bird on the ledge and stepped back, her heart racing with the anticipation of seeing him again.   As she hid behind one of the heavy drapes, her breath shallow and quiet, she waited. The minutes stretched out, but Anwen didn’t mind; she had grown patient in her secret visits to the inn. Then, just as the fire’s glow began to fade, a soft shimmer caught her eye. Lirien had appeared.   His form was faint, a barely perceptible outline against the darkness, but to Anwen, he was as real as any other person. Lirien moved gracefully, as though floating, his hands working with an ethereal precision as he tidied the hall. Anwen watched, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest. She felt a connection with him that she couldn’t quite explain, a sense of understanding that went beyond words.   When Lirien reached the alcove, he paused. His transparent form leaned closer to inspect the wooden bird. For a moment, Anwen feared he might not like it, but then she saw his outline flicker, as though with amusement. He lifted the bird carefully, turning it in his hands. Though his face was indistinct, Anwen sensed his appreciation.   Gently, Lirien placed the bird back on the ledge, but not before adjusting its position slightly, so it faced the drapes beind which Anwen hwas hiding. It was a subtle gesture, but Anwen understood it immediately. He knew she was there, watching, and this was his way of acknowledging her presence. A smile spread across her face, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from giggling.   Suddenly, Lirien turned, and for the briefest of moments, his form became more defined. Anwen could almost make out the contours of his face, the gentle curve of a smile, and a pair of eyes that seemed to see right through the veil of time and space that separated them. She felt a pang of longing, a wish that she could speak with him, hear his voice, or even share a moment longer than these fleeting nights.   But as quickly as it happened, Lirien’s form faded back into near invisibility. He floated silently away, his task of cleaning the hall complete. Yet, before he disappeared entirely, he paused at the stairsteps, and though he didn’t look back, Anwen felt as though he was saying goodbye.   Once she was sure he was gone, Anwen stepped out from her hiding place and approached the alcove. She touched the wooden bird, now facing her, and felt a warmth that was not just from the fire. In her heart, she knew that Lirien cherished these little gifts as much as she cherished their time together.   With a contented sigh, Anwen turned to leave the inn, but not before whispering into the empty air, “Goodnight, Lirien. Until next time.”   And though there was no reply, she felt a soft breeze brush past her, as if carried by an unseen hand, a silent promise that their friendship would continue, hidden in the quiet hours of the night.