Once there was a wanderer named Froilan who passed by a lofty, damp, and dusty tower where Frociela had lived for a very long time.  Froilan was first captivated by her straight, silky,black hair as ‘his’ was stubbornly curly and dry.

Frociela knew Froilan wouldn’t be held long just by the beauty of her hair. She then crafted some fancy, flattering poems to keep him entertained- perhaps persuade him to linger a little longer. Froilan did as the lonely lady expected. Her heart swelled with delight. What magic could words do to her!

Since she found out the fondness for words of this charming traveler, Frociela got up daily ready with lively, enticing lyrics to shower her dear friend, Froilan, with fervent hopes his face brightens at her every attempt. (But alas!) What does a damsel in a dungeon know of the colorful world out there? What would inspire her banal brain and trite tongue? Her ignorance of the surroundings, who can stand?

Froilan knew all these from the start. He read great unfamiliarity through her eyes – though he barely knew how long he could bear with it. Frociela is a soul thrown out and secluded in the midst of the wild, it’d be gentlemanly to keep her company -even for some time. So he kept com‌ing at sunrise to hear Frociela’s chants, be glad to shower her compliments to see glitter in her eyes.

Yet one night seemed eerie long, and daybreak was such a painful sluggard. Froilan couldn’t calm himself to sleep. Perturbed, thus unable to slumber, he took a walk hoping weariness would seize him. His feet stepped and strode unknowingly towards the tall, dim-lit shelter of Frociela. What a great surprise~ Frociela was down the tower gathering night-blooming flowers.

As Frociela turned around, she smilingly uttered: “Their sweetness hides in the dark.”