'Elthríel listened with rapt attention as Finrod, laying on his back and staring at the clear sky above him, spoke about the beauty of the Trees of Valinor. He rarely spoke to her now, not that he had ever made a habit to talk with her, but this was...
Finrod heard footsteps entering the room. He raised his head and looked up wearily at the two who entered. Amdarel strode into the room, but Finrod's glance immediately went to the elleth who entered with him. She was rather short for most elleths and her soft, wavy, dark brown hair and gentle hazel eyes contrasted with her pale skin. She looked fragile and delicate and yet there was something about her that struck Finrod as familiar, but he could not call to mind why.
Elthríel gasped softly as her eyes lighted upon Finrod. After all that had happened, she never thought she would lay eyes upon Finrod again... He looked older than she remembered, as though the cares of leading the Noldor had aged and worn him. There were creases in his forehead that had not been there when she had known him in Valinor so long ago, so it seemed. Not to mention his clothes were stained with dirt and with blood. Finrod, she whispered in her head.
"What is your name?" he asked softly, jerking her roughly back into reality.
"My name is Elthríel, my lord," she replied hesitantly. Her gentle voice was almost soothing to the battle-worn ellon.
"Elthríel," Finrod began, but paused. How could he tell an elleth he had never met that the only member of her family that he knew of was dead? Finally he finished his sentence. "I have news of your brother."
Her mouth opened slightly and her brows were drawn together in anxiety. "What has happened?" she asked in a rather breathless tone of voice.
"Your brother is dead."
She froze, as if someone had slapped her across her face. "Daelthron is dead... Daelthron is dead," she whispered, as if to make sense of the cold reality.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Finrod continued sadly. "He was a good friend. Probably one of the very few that I had and trusted. We were very close."
Elthríel looked up. "Did you bring his body back?"
Finrod nodded. "We brought back the bodies of all who went with our company."
"May I see him then, please?"
"I do not think you would want too. We have not cleaned them and some are mutilated beyond recognition. I think it would be best if you didn't see him and thereby remember him as he was before the battle."
"Please, Finrod!" she cried desperately. "He is the only one left to me in the world. Please!"
Finrod was surprised. She may look frail, but she's quite stubborn. "I'm not sure you can find him. I couldn't tell the Elves apart. The only reason we knew they were ours was because of the mark on their weapons."
"Please, my lord. I can tell him apart from all others."
Finrod raised an eyebrow. "I don't really believe you, but yes, you may go." Then he said to Amdarel, "Take her to the room where we put the bodies. I am coming with you."
Rising, he and Amdarel led the way, Elthríel following quietly behind. Elves walked quickly past them. Eventually they reached a long room lit by torches on either side, faint light coming through the faint slits in the tiny windows on either side, creating bars of light that fell on the grey stone floor. Cots on either side held the dead bodies of the Elves. Finrod was right, they were horrendous to behold.
Elthríel paused at a few of the cots and then walked on. Amdarel had left and Finrod watched her. He doubted greatly her ability to find Daelthron, but he said nothing.
Elthríel quickly walked up to one of the Elves and rather rudely tore the sleeve from the right shoulder. Obviously, she didn't find what she was looking for as she went on walking. It happened again and Finrod heard her sigh with frustration. Suddenly she stopped.
Elthríel stared at the ellon for a long time and then walked up to him, tearing the sleeve from the right shoulder. Finrod heard her gasp as if the breath had been taken out of her body. She stood there silently for several moments. Then she turned her head slowly and Finrod saw tears like little silver drops fall from her eyes and run down her cheeks. "He is my brother," she said, her voice breaking with grief. Slowly she fell to her knees and, placing her head on her dead brother's chest, she began to sob.
Finrod felt completely helpless by this sudden burst of anguish. The grief tore at his heart, opening again ancient memories of his own sadness... Daelthron was dead and Finrod wished with all his heart that it was not so, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Once she had calmed down somewhat, Finrod stepped closer and knelt beside her. "How could you tell that was your brother?" he asked in a half whisper.
"Because of this," she answered quietly, gesturing to the torn sleeve and the shoulder that was visible now. Finrod stared at it and noticed a white streak running across it diagonally like a scar. Elthríel continued, "He received it while hunting. An arrow from his friend grazed his shoulder, leaving a scar."
"I see." What else was there to say? What was there anything he could do to soften the blow of pain that Daelthron's sister must feel, now alone and abandoned? Finrod then spoke hesitantly saying, "Your brother made me promise him something, before we went to battle."
"What was that? He never told me," she questioned, turning her head to look at Finrod.
"He asked me to promise... To promise that if something happened to him, if he didn't come back, that I would watch over you and protect you as one of my own kin."
Elthríel's skin turned even paler, if that was even possible. She looked back at Daelthron again. "He did not tell me of that promise."
Finrod said nothing. A few moments later he rose and left the room, leaving Elthríel to Daelthron.
He walked slowly down one of the many corridors in Nargothrond. So this fragile elleth is what I promised to watch over and protect? It is no wonder now that Daelthron asked me to take care of her. And then Finrod's mind strayed back many years, thinking about another elleth, one that had loved him with the love eternal that never fades, mingled as it might be with great grief it never dies. He had loved her in return, but it almost was for naught for she was forbidden by her people to follow the sorrowful path of exile that the Noldor had chosen...
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Bending over her brother, the tears falling from her eyes and splashing onto his dead body, Elthríel spoke, her voice strained with sorrow, "Ai Daelthron! Aiee, mani umbar naa sina, tanya lle gurthaya ar' amin am' coia?" (Ah Daelthron! Alas, what fate is this, that you should die and I yet live?) "Surely Melkor's cruelty is indeed great for he has torn the kindreds and taken you from me, dearest brother. What shall happen now?" And then she was silent.
