"Why not, sister?" Finrod asked, fair brow furrowing in puzzlement.
Galadriel sighed, tapping slender fingers against the balustrade as she looked out over Tirion. Twice now her half-uncle Fëanor had requested a strand of her hair, and twice Finarfin's lovely daughter had rejected him.
Galadriel herself couldn't quite explain her reasons, endeavoring to relay them for her favorite brother. "There's something dark in him." She said at length.
"None fully understand him, save perhaps Nerdanel." Finrod agreed. "…But his motives are pure."
The lady shifted to gaze into her brother's earnest face. Her countenance grew shadowed, dark foreboding falling, prompting the quiet reply that neither would forget. "For now…for now."
