'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...
Dedicated to GadSul (again!) for the wonderful feedback last chapter!
Elthríel let go of the messenger's arm and he took off, leaving her standing there, stunned. His words echoed in her mind, "It's Finrod Felagund. He has returned." As the words sank in, a smile spread slowly on her face. He's back... After so long...
But then the smile faded. It probably matters little to him whether I'm here or not... A deep pain shot through her body, tingling even her fingers. No, I must not think that. Even if he does not care, he still promised Daelthron to care for me.
Elthríel shook her head, as if pushing away the dark thoughts, and started walking towards the source of all the commotion around her.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Finrod dismounted from his horse and gratefully handed the reigns to an elfling who was on the verge of becoming a man. He turned away and nodded to Amdarel who came forward, clasping his hand over his heart and bowing his head.
"How was the hunting?" the always monotone Amdarel asked.
"It was a good hunting." Finrod turned and gestured to a whole host of beings behind him who stood filling the whole courtyard and beyond, a group unnumberable. "See to the finding of accommodations for these people." He could not keep the smile off his face at the baffled expression on Amdarel's.
"Who are they? They're certainly not Elves."
"They are the Apanónar, the other Race created by Ilúvatar. See that they are cared for." He turned away and began to walk to the end of the courtyard, unclasping his cloak even as he did so.
Finrod glanced up and stopped. There, up on the second floor, in the first entrance after one climbed the stairs leading up to it, stood Elthríel in the doorway, smiling shyly, hesitantly. Her thick, brown hair fell down around her, but she looked happy. So she is alright after all. He smiled back and climbed the stairs to her.
"Are you well?" he asked once he stood before her, feeling again the guilt of not staying behind and looking after as he had promised rush over him.
She looked down and did not meet his gaze. "Aye, I am well."
"Right glad I am then," he stepped back and continued on his way to his chambers.
Elthríel watched him walk away, a smile still upon her lips. He spoke to me! He asked me how I was! A surge of joy coursed up her spine and she turned away, intending to go back the way she had come.
"What are you gloating over, eejit?" Amtharel's voice broke into Elthríel's daydreams.
"Nothing--nothing." Elthríel avoided the brown-eyed gaze of the other elleth.
"I saw that look you gave Finrod." She stepped closer till she was but an inch away and hissed, "Don't even think he will love you, weakling." Then Amtharel spun on her heel and left.
Was it that obvious? Just smiling? Elthríel shook her head and turned away. Surely, it wasn't that obvious. In just moments after Finrod had spoken to her, Elthríel's spirits were dashed to pieces.
She walked swiftly through the many passageways in Nargothrond till she reached her own room, throwing herself down on her bed and crying. Why? Why me? Why must I be the cursed one? Why must I be the weakling? Why me, of all the Elves that crossed the Helacarxë, have to the one to be captured by Morgoth? Why me, of the Elves that escaped from the dark lord's dungeons, have to live in endless torment for what remains of my life? Why?...
At last she rolled over and looked at the vaulted ceiling above her. Maybe... If I was brave enough, I would tell Finrod the truth. Then I would no longer have to be afraid of what he would say.
She sat up and walked to the floor-length piece of polished glass and gazed at the reflection it portrayed. Amtharel possessed the looks to catch the attention of any ellon. Elthríel... She did once. But the vibrant manifestation of life that seemed to glow from her being had faded to a near nothingness. She was pale, slight, and her once golden hair was a plain nut brown thanks to the poison of Morgoth. Her eyes were still the beautiful green color they were before, but the brightness was barely visible now. Will he ever know the truth?
Andddd... this chapter is over.
Yeah, I know, but the next part doesn't really fit with the rest, so I had to end here. #plsdontkillme
Let me know what you thought of it in the comments, please. ;-)
