'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 awoke abruptly from a deep sleep. He rolled over onto his back and listened intently, wide awake. Then he heard it again, a very faint crying, and saw in his mind's eye the same thing that had prompted him to return earlier to Nargothrond then he had originally planned.
Rising, he pulled on a tunic and went to the door, opening it as quietly as he could. Looking both ways in the dim hallway lit solely by flickering torches and the bright moonlight shining through the skylights, he saw that it was empty. Finrod did not wish for anyone to see him making his way towards the elleths' sleeping quarters quite some distance away lest anyone should think less of him for going there in the dead of night. They probably wouldn't understand the reason that it was almost an errand of mercy and nothing vulgar at all.
Finrod walked through the halls making almost no sound. Yet still, the noises that had first awoken him grew steadily louder though they were not loud enough to disrupt anyone's slumber unless they were sleeping lightly. Suddenly, he wondered how he had awoken in the first place by such a slight noise that wasn't even audible where he slept.
At last, he paused in front of one of many identical doors running the length of the hallway. He listened and heard the faint sound of muffled weeping. Pity filled his soul and he opened the door, closing it soundlessly behind him.
Then he walked to Elthríel's bed and sat down. She was writhing under the bed clothes, tears coursing down her cheeks, and heart-wrenching sobs escaping her lips.
Finrod could stand it no longer. He pulled away the sheets and blankets and picked up the tiny frame of the elleth, placing her on his lap. He gently moved his free hand up and down her back as her sobs gradually subsided. She locked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, her slim body still quivering.
"Ai! What is it?" he whispered when she was mostly quieted.
She shifted so that she could speak without sounding muffled. "Ever since I escaped from the dungeons of Morgoth, I've had these horrible dreams."
"What sort of dreams?" he murmured, tightening his arms around her. It felt strangely familiar, the way she fit so comfortably in his embrace--like Amarië had... He pushed the thought away and concentrated on what Elthríel was saying.
"Nightmeres. Most of the time they are memories of the time I spent in Morgoth's dungeons with the other captured Elves. It was terrible..." she shuddered involuntarily. "Other times, it's of when several others and I escaped, save this time, we're running and the yrch capture us with ease. Or sometimes, I dream that Morgoth takes me back to his dungeons even from here."
She had stopped speaking so Finrod prompted, "Your dreams, what are they like?"
"Horrible. In them are always flames, shadows, screams, snarling faces, ugliness, blood... Everything that is the opposite of what had been in Valinor before Fëanor and his sons took the oath. Or at least, before Fëanor began to lust after the very Silmarils he had created."
"I'm sorry--forgive me if asking you to speak of such things causes you pain. I do not wish to make your suffering worse."
She straightened and looked at him. "Nay, it does not. Rather it causes the horror to be less. I used to speak to Daelthron of them... Before he went to the halls of Mandos. It was better that way. I no longer had the darkness locked up inside of me."
"Ah, I see. Well then, do you think you will be able to sleep now?"
"Aye," she got to her feet and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up.
Finrod stood also and looked down at her. "Are you sure?"
"Aye. Hannon-lle."
He nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. But he did not depart to his own quarters. As he had been speaking to her, a strange thought had crossed his mind. What would Amarië think of him if she had seen him holding Elthríel on his lap and embracing her? He hoped she would not think herself betrayed. He loved her and her only. He had only done so to the dark-haired elleth out of pity and because of his promise to Daelthron. But would Amarië think the same way? He could only hope she would understand.
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Elthríel lay awake, staring at the flickering shadows above her head. She could not sleep. Not because out of fear for the dreams coming again, but because of what Finrod had done. She knew he couldn't possibly know she was Amarië, for he would have acted differently. Or so she hoped. But still, if it had been someone else and not her, how would she feel knowing he had treated another so even if it was out of pity and not love? She would hope she would understand.
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Elthríel had expected that Finrod would open up to her more since what had happened that one night. She was wrong. If anything, he avoided her more than ever. She rarely saw him now and even then, he was always too busy to notice her. Amtharel's teasing had only increased and now was barely anything short of endless torment. Sometimes, she wished that he had never come to her that night. Perhaps then they would have still spoken together. Alas, but one couldn't go back and redo things they had done...
And so Elthríel kept silent when Amtharel came to her daily and insulted her. She did not speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. As she was small and silent, hardly anyone ever noticed her at all. But it was better that way.
She had lost Daelthron. She had no one left. Only Finrod. And even he was unaware of her true person. Would he ever know?
GUYS! Guess what? We're almost at THEE chapter!
Haha, just teasing. We have at least two chapters before that. But guess what else? *snickers* Finrod's sister Galadriel's going to pay him a visit in next update...
Enough spoilers. You'll just have to wait and see.
Dedication for this chapter goes to the newest fan of this story, ThatOneWriter2001
