[Disclaimer: It's all Tolkien's.]

A year has passed since I took Aredhel as my wife. Then, I lived nearly alone, surrounded by silence, with no expectation or desire for my life to ever change. Now--

Aredhel's delighted laughter, mixed with chiming music, interrupts my reverie. I see she has discovered my bells. They were an experiment in musical instruments that did not work quite the way I had planned. I meant for them to catch the wind and play, like those simple windchimes that some people think so lovely, but the idea was for them to play a tune. The problem occurred when I could not find one. Music is not one of my greatest skills and I honestly could not think of anything for them to play. So, they have been sitting unfinished for some time now, waiting for me to pick them up once more. I do have the rest of eternity to finish, after all. In the meanwhile, let Aredhel play them. Even without the mechanical aspect finished, they do make nice sounds.

So she has apparently found, for the simple chimes I heard at first have given way to a definite tune, one that I do not recognize, though that is no real surprise. I have never paid much attention to the music of the courts. She makes the bells sing of mighty deeds. I had not known that such delicate pieces could thunder like that. I rather enjoy the music's pleasant background.

Until she starts to sing softly.

Her voice is wonderful, but the song she has chosen, that I have been enjoying for the past few moments, is a song in praise of the 'mighty deeds' of the Noldorin beasts. How dare she play such noise under my roof? How dare she!?

I am halfway across the room from where I was, my vision misted with red. I shout something incoherent even to my ears. I do not even know what I said, only that it was angry words. I reach the other side of the room, fists raised, in the next moment. Aredhel shrinks back, her eyes wide and questioning, but I do not look at her for more than an instant. My fury focuses on the silver bells that have been so defiled. The same hands that made them will destroy them and the taint with them.

The thin silver crumples easily under my clenched fists. The frame is soon only a twisted wreck, completely unrecognizable. The bells themselves shatter and the pieces are flattened under my metal-shod feet. I glare at the mess, then look up.

Aredhel has backed as far away from me as possible. Her eyes are frightened and even wider than they were. I am suddenly aware that my hands are still fisted and raised, ready to strike more than just the bells. I look down again and catch a glimpse of my reflection in a piece of the polished metal.

The expression on my face is a grimace of pure rage. My features are distorted and twisted, like a caricature of an elf. No, like some sort of monster. I do not know myself. I look at my Aredhel. She is so slender, so beautiful, so frightened. She is frightened of me, and I do not blame her in the least.

I could have killed her.

"Eöl?" Her voice is faltering, hesitant.

I could have killed her.

With a strangled cry, I turn and flee from the room like a coward. I cannot face her like this.

"Eöl!"

****

I am pounding on things again. The heat of the forge seems very appropriate after my rage. It is safe to hit these things, safe to vent my fear and anger on these things of metal. They cannot feel and I cannot truly harm them with my blows. I can always melt them down and begin again if I break something, but that is not exactly an option when dealing with my wife.

I have never felt such rage before. I have been angry (who has not?), but not to a level where I destroy my own work. And not to a point where I could have commited murder. I did not know I was capable of such things.

I cannot risk it happening again; what if I am unable to stop? What if I do kill her?

I will not allow it. I will not spend so much idle time with her. I will go to the mountains, I will work in the forge. I dare not lose myself in rage again. I dare not take the chance of not being able to stop.

The image of the bells I destroyed floats in the back of my mind as I stride out of the forge room, through the armory and into the forest. My mind keeps replacing the scattered fragments with blood.

I am a league away before I stop seeing her lying on the ground before me, broken and battered. Then I realize it is daylight.

Curses spring to my lips as I look for somewhere to hide from the sun. All I can find is a pair of trees, twined around each other and forming a hollow at their base. It will have to do.

I kneel in the hollow and pull my black cloak over my eyes and wait for nightfall.