I could see the venom in Galadriel's eyes as she strode towards us.
"Is that anyway to greet your uncle?" Fëanor asked, taking a step back.
"My uncle! My uncle!" she scowled, "How dare you hold aloft that title after all that you've done!"
"I am sorry," Fëanor said lamely.
Galadriel stopped, a look of surprise on her face, and then disgust crossed it.
"You say you are sorry," she said with her head her high, "I would have proof of your sincerity."
"What would you have me do?" Fëanor asked, "Beg for your forgiveness?
"No," she said proudly, "I would never grant you that. Not after what you have done. I would have you die crossing the length of Antarctica alone."
Fëanor looked a little taken aback.
"Have you become so merciless in such a short time?" he asked, "the girl I remember was young and beautiful, yes, proud, and she did not much like me, but she had a compassionate heart."
"You killed that girl, Fëanor," Galadriel snapped back, "with your murder and treachery."
Fingolfin stared coldly at Fëanor.
"And what of you, my brother," said Fëanor turning to his half brother, "would you see me dead?"
"I thought that you already were," Fingolfin replied, "and maybe it would have been better for you, if Sauron had really murdered you."
"I am sorry," said Fëanor but there was no sincerity in his words this time. He was obviously tired of apologizing. He looked around the crowded cafeteria; several people were staring at him, wondering what would happen next. Maedhros took his father's arm.
"Maybe," he said softly, "we should meet somewhere more private?"
"Maybe," Fëanor replied, "we shouldn't meet with them at all."
"Ada, we need all the help we can get against Morgoth," said Maedhros.
"I suppose, you're right," Fëanor said, "but they do not seem very ready to help me."
"Perhaps in time…"
"We don't have any time," Fëanor shot back.
He sighed and walked over to Galadriel and took her hand. She yanked away.
"Listen," he said, "I know you hate me, but we have got to work together."
"I would much rather die than help you," she said coldly.
"Would you rather that your husband be turned into an orc?" he shot back.
"No," she said sullenly.
"Good," he said, "as I understand it, we both want something that Morgoth has, for you it is your husband, for me, my jewels. Both are, I hope, very precious to us."
"Yes, you should be very glad I love Celeborn," Galadriel, "because if I didn't, you would be dead by now."
The waitress who had come to take the orders looked a little nervous.
"Are you already to order?" she asked putting on a pathetic fake smile.
"Yes," said Fëanor, though he had not been seated yet, "I shall have a roast chicken, and would you be so kind as to bring a bottle of red wine? Two bottles perhaps."
The waitress did not complain but took everyone's orders with a great look of humility and generosity plastered on her already made up face.
I was not very hungry so I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of lemonade. I stared out the window and pretended very hard to be invisible. Maedhros wrapped an arm around me rather absently as he talked cheerfully to Fingon about storefronts. Honestly, I could not see how they could be so carefree at a time like this, but then again I have always been told I was too much of a worrier. One more thing—didn't someone say Morgoth was unbeatable?
As soon as we finished eating we walked together to the motel. Nothing had been settled. The two opposing sides had either argued or glared silently at each other over lunch. I was feeling very dismal, and as soon as we were settled in (I was the only one who was given my own room, since Finrod thought it would be good for him to stay with his sister), I decided to bathe and then take a nap. I had just finished taking my shower though, when there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" I asked ringing out my wet hair over the sink.
I quickly finished dressing, walked over to the door, peered through the peephole, and seeing that it was indeed Maedhros, I let him in.
He looked around the small room with single bed and the tan walls lined with paintings of ducks and other wild birds.
"Hello," he said softly.
"Hello," I answered.
"So, how are you feeling…about all this?"
I sighed and sunk down on to the bed.
"I guess I feel like everyone else, worried, frustrated, scared."
He nodded and sat down near me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
"Do you think we have any chance of beating him?"
"No, not really."
"So, what are we going to do?"
"There is no chance…at all?"
"It depends on your people, Brianna, more than mine."
I sighed. Did it really come down to that? Whether the human population would trust Sauron as they already had? Perhaps though there would be a time when they realized what was going on, maybe then they would join with us to defeat this force of evil that had mounted an attack on my very world.
Slowly Maedhros pulled me into his embrace. I leant my head against his chest, and he sang softly in my ear, a song I had never before heard, sweet and sad and open, like a cut deepening letting all feelings pour through. Cautiously I titled my head up and kissed him on the underside of his chin. He smiled, and our lips met, lingering there for a moment, until I ducked down again. Maedhros pulled me around, so I was now facing him.
"Brianna," he whispered, "I want to marry you."