'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...
Elthríel bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling over, but it did not help. Amtharel crossed her arms and sighed. "Can you not do the simplest of things without failing?" Elthríel clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming back, 'Aye, but not when you purposefully get in the way, knock me down, spill my bucket of water, steal my needles and thread, damage the books I borrow to read, and constantly tear me down with your spiteful words.' Instead she bent down and tried to mop up the soapy water with the rough cloth, but it was little use. The bucket, once filled with the soapy liquid that now lay all over the marble floor, was overturned and she righted it, ignoring the contemptuous stare of the elleth standing over her.
At last, Amtharel sighed and walked off, leaving Elthríel to finally breathe in peace. Ever since Finrod had left a few months ago, Amtharel's cruel teasing had turned into a sort of persecution. No matter where Elthríel went to escape, Amtharel somehow found out. The days had dragged by wearily and she wondered hopelessly where Finrod was and if and when he would come back.
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The dimness of the forest seemed refreshing in the still night air and Finrod dismounted, tying his horse loosely to a low-hanging branch from a pine. He was weary and he leaned against the rough bark, closing his eyes. The hunt had dragged on and on and at last he had left Maglor and Maedhros to continue, leaving and entering the Ered Lindon mountains, eventually reaching a forested land beyond them called Thargelion. It was moments like these, feeling drained and exhausted, that Finrod missed Amarië the most. He remembered in the days when he would race and train with weapons with her brother, Hílthklen, when they would both be weary and worn out by the day's ending that they both would collapse onto the ground and just lie there in the cool grasses. Then Amarië would come to him and take his head in her lap and play with his hair. Her cool hands would relax him so completely that sometimes he fell asleep...
Finrod opened his eyes and swallowed hard. Those days were gone.
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The Sun was setting crimson-rose, splashing the pillars with darkening pink where his light fell through the opening in the roof. Elthríel, glad to know that Amtharel was elsewhere and would not stir from the Hall of Songs for quite some time, wandered through the halls aimlessly. At last, she made up her mind where she would go and entered into the dimly light library. Books and scrolls of parchments filled the shelves. She glanced over their titles. Most of them were songs and poems. A few were of deeds done in Valinor, but these were few. She opened one and glanced at it. She took a few more and then sat in a window seat, her legs curled up under her. She glanced through two that she had, but her mind began to wander and the words blurred together.
