Melkor's Mistake

Chapter 6: Beauty

A/N: Um. Filler chapter. I had to make something happen. Part of the reason I love writing, but also hate it. I have to make a bunch of stuff happen to this poor innocent-ish character so she can be the hard and calloused [spoiler spoiler spoiler spoiler] that she is in the end! And I have a question: Do you all like the flashback chapters or the regular ones better?

As always...thank you for reading! Please comment/vote! :)

I knock three times, hard, on Feanor's door. He doesn't answer, but I know he is in there. "Feanor!" I call. "Feanor! Open the door!"

"No," says a muffled voice from the other side. But it doesn't sound sad or sulky; in fact, it sounds amused. I blink rapidly a few times before asking uncertainly, "Why?"

"Because I'm too happy. I would prefer to be left alone with my thoughts so I can savor this moment forever. Come back later," he answers dreamily. I roll my eyes.

"I don't know why you're so happy, but just remember that you need to pack some supplies for our trip tomorrow," I remind, turning around to begin packing myself, but freezing when I hear his reply. "Oh, is it that time already? Ah...Luinil...come back." I can sense that something is wrong. He's opened the door now, and is facing me. He's grown quite tall and he has become very handsome, a prince loved by all. It seems we both have the same thoughts about each other as his eyes widen and he says, "I just realized how beautiful you've become." I blush. "Thank you...but what were you going to say?"

"I can't go to the lake with you tomorrow, Luinil." He speaks quickly, as if saying it faster will make it hurt less. All I can do is stare as my plans for tomorrow shatter with that one sentence. Every year since we were children, Feanor and I taken a day long hike to our favorite spot: A lake near a hill, surrounded by large trees with weeping branches. At night, little glowing bugs sometimes appeared, making everything seem magical as we rowed out onto the lake. Sometimes Finarfin or Fingolfin would come, but I could tell that Feanor liked it best when it was just us. We would spen the night there, and in the morning, we would head back home, but not before climbing to the top of the huge hill and looking upon our city from afar. It's something I look forward to every year. Why has my best friend suddenly decided he can't come?

"What?" I ask in disbelief, just to make sure I've heard him right. He looks down at his feet and fidgets awkwardly. "I'm so sorry, but...I simply cannot go."

"Why?" I pester, anger fillling in my heart. Feanor is always gone, off studying of just trying to get away from Finarfin and Fingolfin. I don't understand why he dislikes them so much; they've always been great friends of mine. Since, he's hardly ever here, we never get to spend time together. He sighs and continues to stare intently at the floor...so intently that I wonder if there's something there I'm just not seeing.

"I do not feel that I must explain my reasoning to you. The point is that I will not be joining you and whomever your companions will be this year. Thank you for the offer and the reminder." With that, he closes the heavy, wooden door in my shocked face. I can't do anything but stare at the spot where his face was only a moment ago. Being afraid of love, I'd pushed Feanor away from me in the past. Was that where this sudden iciness was coming from? Have I pushed him away too much?

The walk back to my room feels like years. I want someone to talk to, but I also want to be left alone with my thoughts. Just as my hand is on the door knob, someone taps my shoulder. I didn't see them before, so I jump a little out of surprise. When I turned, my eyes fell upon a grinning Finarfin.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, Luinil?" He asks. "I'm sure we'll--what's wrong?" Noticing my countenance, he drops his smile and turns me towards him. I try to immitate his bright grin from before, but fail and end up grimacing instead. "Nothing is wrong," I lie. He knows I'm lying. We've known each other for so long that I'm practically his sister. Of course he can tell when I'm not telling the truth. His dark-blue eyes fill with concern, and he knits his eyebrows.