They stood, eyes locked. Neither one could think of anything to say. Neither one risked making things harder. Slowly, delaying the inevitable, they exchanged the silver rings.
Finally Finrod broke the silence. "I suppose we should have these melted down."
"Not now. Your people are leaving!" She turned to go.
"Don't feel you have to wait for me, Amarië. I don't want you to be lonely."
"What is it, Nelyo?"
"How are we to cross the Sea?" That wasn't the only question Maedhros wanted to ask his father, but it was one of the safest.
"I'm sure we can work something out with the Teleri."
"What if we can't?"
"We attempt aggressive negotiations."
Maedhros left the room without a definition of aggressive negotiations, or an explanation of his mother's black eye. Some questions were better not asked.
Galadriel and her brothers often walked or rode to Alqualondë. Besides visiting their grandfather Olwë, they enjoyed swimming and sailing. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was alone with her brothers, planning to borrow some small sailboats from Elëaro and race around the Isle.
In front, she could hear Angrod and Aegnor. They were usually together and seldom still or quiet. Beside her was Finrod; they loved to sing together and knew a wide variety of songs, many of which their mother disapproved of. Last would come Orodreth, book in hand (being read, more often than not).
Today, Orodreth was walking with Angrod and Aegnor, answering their questions about Middle-Earth (the ones he'd read the answers to, anyway) and Finrod was silent, holding tightly to a silver ring.
Galadriel felt a strong sense of unease, obviously brought on by the proximity of so many people. It's not that she didn't like crowds, of course; she had perfect social graces in every foreseeable situation. She decided to walk ahead of the group.
She was the first to hear the noise but paid it no heed, also being the first to catch up with Fingolfin's group.
As Galadriel made her way through the crowd she saw no men, only a handful of boys in their third decade or so. Before she could ask Anairë and Elenwë where all the men were, she realized what the noise was.
A battle.
Turgon and a cloaked Teler were fighting at the edge of the battle. Turgon brought his sword in low and the Teler crumpled to the sand. Just then, little Idril uttered her first word: "Daddy!" Turgon hurriedly disappeared back into the battle and Elenwë took Idril away from the sight.
"The first rule of hunting is this: the kill must be clean." he whispered as he raised the bow.
"Wait! The wind!" but it was too late. He fired, and a gust of wind blew his arrow slightly off course. She followed as he ran towards the deer.
"It happens sometimes, Nerwendë. It's all part of the game." The deer was wounded, in pain. He drew his knife and moved in. He dodged the first kick, but the second knocked him backwards. As he moved in for the kill, she did not turn away. She knew she could handle the sight.
It was the sound that would haunt her.
"Why didn't you just use your bow to finish it off, Turucáno?"
"Second rule. The kill must be clean."
They had venison for dinner, but she wasn't hungry.
The Teler dragged himself away from the battle, leaving a trail of blood and most of his legs behind. He would never walk again. He could not be allowed to suffer. It would be quick. It would be clean. It was after the job was done that Galadriel saw his face.
She'd killed Elëaro.
"Because there will be so much to see and learn in Middle-Earth, Father. They will have need of me, especially Nerwendë. Once she makes up her mind, nothing can turn her aside."
"Not unlike you, Findaráto. I cannot say farewell, for I doubt you shall. All I can do is give you this." Finrod looked at his father's ring, decorated with twin emerald-eyed serpents. "You must be head of the family."
"I thought you didn't approve of our going."
"I'm still proud of you. Never forget that you're still my children, no matter what roads you travel."
"Are you ready to go, Nerwendë?"
"Just a minute." Galadriel stood in the surf, her gaze fixed eastward and the bottom of her skirt soaked in seawater. "Just think of all the new lands, Ingoldo! Some of them will be yours and mine forever. They will be perfect, for we alone will decide what perfection is."
She waited until her brother left, then began to scrub her hands in the seawater.