A/N: Hi! I feel like this fanfic is just sort of going downhill...oh well! Enjoy this chapter, and---OH OH WAIT! I BELIEVE IN THE FIRST CHAPTER LUINIL BEAT UP CARANTHIR. I WILL GO CHANGE THAT, AS THIS CHAPTER SUGGESTS IT IS CURUFIN. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CURUFIN. I'LL CHANGE IT TOMORROW BECAUSE I'M TIRED NOW, BUT ONCE AGAIN, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CURUFIN! CURUFIN!

And the picture in the media section is Curufin and Celegorm...ah...how do you even art? xD Anyways...enjoy, and please comment/vote! Thanks!

My tears made my pillow very wet that night. Feanor had no idea of the pain I'd had to endure my whole life. I watched my own father murder my mother, then, just for effect, vow to kill me. Melkor could've killed me right there, but he didn't. Curiosity as to why he didn't gnawed at me for many, many years, until I finally forgot. But now...I wonder if it would have been better to simply die young. Then I wouldn't have to deal with the pain and hurt that went along with being...me.

Gently lifting my head up to roll over, I noticed a shadow paused outside my tent. Someone must have heard me crying, and was now planning out how to make me even more miserable. A voice hissed, "Lady Luinil? Will you please come out?"

I didn't move. From the outline, I could see that it was a male Elf wearing quite a bit of armor. A sword hung at his side, and his hair seemed to be braided and twisted down his back. Boots were on his feet, which moved expectantly as he waited for an answer. On all fours, I crawled over to the flap and peeked through. I imagined he would be looking up or around, but instead, his sharp glance met mine as soon as I cast my eyes upward. 

"Hello, Luinil," he said with a grim smile. 

"You cannot come in," I informed him, not bothering to return the smile. "You know the rules. And, you shouldn't even be talking to me. It's bad for your reputation."

"I am Celegorm, son of Feanor. Who can tell me what I can and cannot do?" he questioned proudly. I only stared for a moment before sighing, "Alright. I'll come outside."

Quickly, I grabbed my boots, slipped them on my feet, tied my hair back, and put on a thin cloak. It was rather cold outside, and I knew that Celegorm and I would need to find someplace private to speak. He grabbed my hand to help me out of the tent, and as I stood up, he smiled again. A few Elves passing by gave us odd looks, but I tried to ignore them.

"Celegorm," I began, "why do you need to talk to me?"

He laughed. "Need? I don't need to talk to you, Luinil. No; I want to speak with you."

"About what?" I asked, curious as to what his intentions were. I didn't exactly trust Celegorm. 

"Well...everyone knows your little secret."

I froze. Something definitely wasn't right. "No son of Feanor would talk to the daughter of Melkor--"

"Mogoth," he corrected, but I didn't pay him any attention. Melkor was my father, therefor I had the right to call him whatever I pleased.

"--just because he "wanted" to. What do you really want, Celegorm? I know it's not to talk to me."

He sighed, dropping the friendly act, and pulled me behind a clump of tents. "What I want, Daughter of Morgoth, is to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" I raised an eyebrow, mimicking two Elves walking past us. Celegorm rolled his eyes and muttered, "I would explain, if only we were in a more private place." Taking me by my arm, he dragged me inside one of the tents, which was empty.  I groaned as I realized it was Curufin's. If he found me in there...I did not like to think of the consequences. Noticing a shadow moving outside, I snorted. "This isn't very private either, Celegorm."

He rolled his eyes again. "It is more secluded than out there, and it will suffice." Steepling his fingers under his pointed chin, he closed his eyes. "Now," he began, "...the deal."

I nodded, then realized it was useless to nod when his eyes were closed. "Yes."

"Good. First...are you planning to join your father at the soonest opportunity?" That question hit me hard for some reason? Was I? Did I really want to join Melkor? 

"Yes," I said. In that brief moment, I made my decision. Obviously my father didn't want to kill me that badly; he would have done so already. In fact, he could've killed me the day I "escaped" on the Eagle. But he didn't. He didn't kill me then,  so I had no reason to believe that he would kill me now. Celegorm nodded, though his eyebrows drew together and he tensed as though he'd been hit. 

"I... I'm so sorry," I whispered. Celegorm's grey eyes flew open, and he looked at the ground.

"Are you going to tell him everything?" he asked. 

"No," I answered. That was the truth. I wasn't going to tell Melkor anything, none of the Elves' plans, and nothing he could do would make me. Celegorm nodded again before saying, "What will you do? Assuming he doesn't kill you the moment he sees you, of course."

I stared at my hands, folded in my lap. They were so pale, like the rest of me, and my fingers were long and thin. My eyes flicked to Celegorm's hands. Tan and strong, they rested firmly on his crossed arms. I could still see the light of Valinor in his face. Unfortunately, that light had never come to me, and I was unpleasant to behold. I didn't belong there with the Elves, but when I got to my father, what would I do? Did I belong there?

"I cannot say," I replied, standing up. The conversation was making me uncomfortable, and my curiosity as to what the deal was was not strong enough to make me want to stay. I turned to leave.

"No!" shouted Celegorm, grabbing a thick patch of my black hair. "You can't leave yet. We haven't discussed the deal!" 

I yelled. My scalp burned, and he still had my hair wrapped around his fist. Tears  sprang to my eyes. Footsteps sounded from just outside the tent flap, and before either of us had time to process what was going on or to move, Curufin was standing there in front of us.  His eyes blazed, and he was still nursing a few bruises and cuts from earlier.

"What--are--you--two--doing?" he questioned, spitting each word and trying to remain controlled. Celegorm let go of my hair. I turned and immediately punched him in his precious face. He groaned as he fell backwards and blood started to spew from his nose; however, before I had the chance to savor that brief revenge, Curufin was on top of me. I yelled again. 

"It seems that the sons of Feanor keep finding themselves in this position tonight," he said casually between hits. I already had a headache from before, and so his punches were more painful than ever. At some point my nose started to bleed, but still Curufin continued, and the blood dripped down the sides of my face and into my hair. The look in his eyes was enough to scare anyone. I gasped as my vision started to tunnel. My arms felt like lead, and for some reason, I just couldn't seem to get him off of me.

Finally, just as I was about to go unconscious, a voice said, "Curufin, I think that's enough." I couldn't see them very well because Curufin's heaving chest was in my line of sight, and because my vision was rather blurry from almost being beaten to death. 

He rolled off, still breathing heavily, but the shape became no clearer. All I could tell was that he was like Celegorm (who was now standing in a corner, unsure of what to do) and Curufin in stature, and his hair flowed freely down his back. Most of his clothing was blue. As he bent down close to me, I blinked rapidly. I knew the face, knew those pierceing blue eyes, but I couldn't place it. Who was he?

Through the blood in my mouth, I managed to whisper. "Who are you?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "I did not think you would forget me so easily, Luinil." The voice. I knew that voice! "We've met before."  There was a hint of a laugh in his voice, which made me angry. I'd noticed that we'd met before. Then it came to me.

"Maglor," I said, trying to smile but failing miserably. 

He laughed. "Good job! Now...you need to be cleaned up a bit, it seems--" he began, but Curufin interrupted him by shouting, "No! Leave her here, Maglor! In fact, let me kill her right now! We all know she'll be dead before we even come close to attaining the Silmarils. Our people will not stand for such a traitor in our midst!"

Maglor stared at Curufin for a moment before saying curtly, "No."

Celegorm strode over to his brothers, looking angry. I felt a tinge of happiness as I noticed that his blood had stanied his clothes, then closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I realized what I'd just thought. I was happy that Celegorm's clothes were stained with his own blood.

Maybe Feanor was right. I was becoming more like my father every moment, and just because a few people had decided to physically hurt me. Why? Being hurt had never had this effect on me before. True, I was usually pessimistic and depressed, occasionally extremelly jealous, and rather bizarre in general...but I'd never found the sight of somone's bloodstained cloak...amusing.

"Just because you are older than us doesn't give you authority over us, Maglor," Celegorm said through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't imagine so," replied Maglor, "and I don't intend to try to order you around. I'm simply trying to say that you should leave her alone."

"Why?" sneered Curufin. Maglor shrugged. "Because you are not killers. You don't hurt others just because you can. Settle with what our father has said."

"I wasn't present when he called us to him," began Curufin, "because I was rather preoccupied with tending to my injuries." He glared at me when he spat out the last word. I snorted, which wasn't a good idea because it was painful, and I forgot that my nose was still bleeding.

"Injuries?" asked Maglor. "No, Curufin; you didn't want to come. If Luinil hurt you that badly...you would have some sort of mark, or maybe a limp, yes?"

Curufin rolled his eyes. It was easy to tell that he was only becoming more frustrated. He seemed to want to say something, but stormed out of the tent instead. Maglor turned to Celegorm, who was looking intently at me. As he turned to follow his brother, I heard him remind me, "We still must talk, Luilnil."

After they were both well out of earshot, Maglor sighed deeply. "I apologize for my brothers. Can you stand?"

Could I stand? My head was pounding, and I wasn't sure I would ever feel well again, but I made a valiant effort before crumpling on the ground. "Apparently not," I muttered. Ouch. The pain inside my head was steadily growing worse. Maglor grimaced. 

"You don't look well."

I glared at him. "I don't feel well either, Maglor."

And then there was the question again: Why would any son of Feanor try to help me in anything? So, for what felt like the tenth time that night, I voiced it. "Why are you helping me?"

He shrugged, pulling me up and swinging one of my arms over his shoulder for support. Immediately, the ground seemed to spin and tilt. My heart rate picked up. I squeezed my eyes closed and gasped. I think one of my ribs might have broken. Maglor held onto the hand that was draped around his shoulder.

"Why? Becuase I know you as Aunt Luinil, the woman who sang me songs and told me stories and was held in great esteem by my father. I know you for who you are, not for your father. Besides...if you've never really met him, how could he have influenced you at all? And you had a mother. I don't know the exact truth, but I like to think she was an elf, maybe one of the Sindar."

"She was," I muttered. Maglor kept talking, but I didn't take in a word he said as he walked me back to my tent. Elves constantly surprised me, both in their malice and kindness. Some seemed to have hearts made of stone, while others' were like glass: easily broken and hard to put back together. 

It took a while to reach my tent because I was finding it difficult to walk; and by the time we finally got there, it was gone.  Everything was gone, save a thin blanket and a note. My lip started to tremble. Who would do this? It was almost positive it wasn't Feanor, and Curufin and Celegorm wouldn't have been able to disassemble everything so quickly. True, not all of the Elves had tents, but they at least had thick blankets, supplies, and water! There was nothing there.

A tear spilled down my cheek as I took a shaky step, without Maglor's help, towards the note. MY hands shook as I read it:

Dearest Daughter of Morgoth,

We have decided that you will not be needing your tent any longer. We would prefer to give your supplies to those loyal to us who need it most. And since you will be departing to Angband, we are sure you will be able to survive off the land until your departure. Unfortunately, we will not be able to spare any provisions for your journey, whenever it may be. Best of luck in everything you do. May the Valar curse you and your descendants forever...providing that you can find another monster to love you.

Sincerely,

The signature was blurred and smudged, but so became the rest of the words as my tears wet the paper. Maglor read over my shoulder, and when he was finished, he said with pity in his eyes, "I...I am sorry, Luinil." All I could do was nod, so he continued, "You have been like a second mother to me, and I'm thankful for all you have done. I'll bring you some provisions and a blanket right away, and if you need anything else...I will be here for you."

I nodded again, grief turning briefly to anger as he walked away. But it quickly subsided back to grief. I'd had enough anger and enough fights for one night. So I lay down, shivering under the threadbare blanket, and tried to sleep. My head hurt, my face hurt, and my arms were sore; but it was my heart that hurt the most. The last thoughts in my head as I drifted off to sleep were of Maglor. I'd been like another mother to him, and he's been almost like a son of my own. Nerdanel resented me for it. I knew that. But he had a kind heart that made it impossible to be unhappy, and so I watched over him as he grew up, and became a sort of guard for when his mother was not around. 

I remembered...one day, he knocked on my door, a fistfull of blue and purple flowers in his hand. "Maglor," I 'd said, surprised. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit."

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, his young face flushed with happiness as he smiled. "I've just come to give you these!" He offered me the flowers, biting his lip nervously as I pretended to be unamused with his gift.

"Oh," I had said. "Flowers. How boring."

His face fell and he turned to walk away, eyes glued to the floor, but I put my hand on his shoulder. Bending down so my eyes were level with the young Elfling's, I said softly, "I'm only joking, Maglor. The flowers are beautiful." He grinned. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do!" I answered, moving over to my dresser and setting them in a small, glass vase filled with water from previous flowers. "There. Now I'll be able to see them all the time." I'd had my back to him, but tensed when I felt his tiny arms around my waist in a hug.

"I love you, Luinil," he whispered.

I relaxed, dropping my own arms to his shoulders and stroking his hair gently with one hand. "And I you, Maglor."

I'd always hoped that in my future I would be surrounded by people like Maglor...people caring and kind, who loved all; but that was an impossible hope...and one I never should have dared to dream.