This is for you. :)
Also, I've used Sindarin names instead, because I really do not want to put all of those freaking accent marks on Fëanor's name. This makes my life easier, and this makes my writing less stressed and cramped and...not-so-much effort-placed.
For everyone's convenience...yeah.
(Note: My friend, since I wanted to give a little bit of suspense, I decided to add a few spoilers to this story. Which means...suspense for the other story that I know you love. I hope you don't mind.)
Day One - On the Ship
Amras sighed, leaning against the wooden railing of the ship. His deep red hair blew out from behind him, as if reaching for the sea beyond the deck. He glanced from the cabin door to the calm, cerulean sea, and his mind was almost at rest for just a while, calmed by the gentle rocking of the vessel beneath him.
But his heart was not at rest.
His hands were stained with the red of innocents, their life's blood that had dripped off of his fingers, so wickedly elegant. They were no longer soaked in blood, but the trace of it still remained in his very flesh, seared into his fingertips as the memory of feeling liquid flowing down his hands remained with him. As he desperately tried to save his friend, she bled out on the sand, coughing up blood as her stone-grey eyes were filled with sorrow. Another friend of his knelt by the two, and her eyes shone with unrestrained tears.
"No! No! You have so much ahead of you! Please!" she cried.
"I'm...sorry... Tell Maedhros that Caranthir...was going to beat him...in that duel anyway... Tell Maglor that...he shouldn't have to...feel unforgiven...anymore."
As he desperately tried to stop himself from killing any more, he had ended up slaying more than he intended. Their screams were embedded into his mind, and their eyes still haunted him. All of the eyes of the Teleri were grey, and they had been filled with mirth before Fëanor drew his sword.
There had been footsteps...footsteps that had sounded when they raced out of the palace of Alqualondë, following their father to the ships. A deranged light housed itself into Fëanor's brilliant blue eyes, and Amras almost didn't recognise his strong-willed father. It was as if Fëanor was triumphant and losing all at the same time, by the expression on his face. A tortured feel had stayed in his right eye, while a more victorious look took place in his left.
And there were footsteps now.
Amras quickly turned around, sword drawn once more.
When he saw the source of the footsteps, his sword clattered to the wooden deck, and he stared at the Elf before him.
This Elf was silver-haired, and her grey eyes were wide with apprehension as he gaped at her. Her lighted tendrils flowed down her back, and her tunic and pants were in a state of disarray, as if she had tried to change into them quickly. She was barefoot, and her hands were curled up into fists as her expression turned into an expression of utter realisation, and she glared balefully at him.
"You!" she exclaimed angrily, knuckles turning even whiter than her pale skin. "How could you! Your own kind! My kin!"
He remained silent as she spoke.
"This ship - you have no right! It is stained with the blood of the Teleri, whom you have slain so mercilessly! They couldn't even defend themselves! These beautiful ships, crafted by Olwë's hands himself! You... You scoundrel!"
She strode forward to strike him, and Amras wasn't about to stop her. But then, her mood apparently changed, because her grey eyes darkened and she turned to the sea, stopping in her tracks. There was a certain longing and regret in her features, as if she had done something to grant her this fate of being trapped on a ship of Kinslayers. Hatred shone brightly in the dark of her irises.
"I hate you."
Amras sighed, back against the wooden railing once again as it took most of his weight. "I know. You should." I hate myself too.
This only served to make her glare harder before she took off running towards the bow of the ship. Amras saw her intentions, and though he did not know why he did it, he picked up his fallen sword and immediately raced over to the nearest rowboat, cutting loose the ivory ropes that bound it to the ship. Already, the maiden was overboard, her silver head sinking below the surface. He leapt into the small boat, placing his sword hurriedly against the nearest unoccupied space.
Then, Amras worked the oars over to where he last saw her body floundering above water. There was no sign of her, and he felt frustraed. Another one dead.
A flame of anger and pride overtook him, and he pulled off his tunic, diving into the blue water as well.
She was not going to die.
After grasping her limp hand, Amras pulled them both to the surface and over into the boat, gasping for air. The maiden, however, was breathing, and she didn't seem to happy about the fact that she had been saved when she clearly preferred death.
"I'm not going to say thank you," she said, tone stiff and monotonous.
"I don't want you to," he replied with the same edge as hers. "Now, I'm going to try and get us back to the main vessel, and you're going to sit quietly behind me as I row."
She glared. "I'll row."
Amras was surprised. The Elf-maiden didn't seem to have been offering purely out of spite and being difficult. "Maidens do not row boats."
Her glare intensified. "You chauvinistic imbecile - I was born in a boat. I was taught to row at the age of five. Do not belittle me with your Noldorin culture. The Teleri actually work instead of wearing stuffy robes and fine silk."
Slightly stung, Amras rose a fine eyebrow. "The Noldor work in forges instead of swimming around, trying to catch fish."
Her mouth twitched with what might have been amusement, had he not killed her people. But instead of dignifying the retort with a response, she simply turned to the water and stood abruptly, unbalancing the pressure on the water.
Amras swore. The boat capsized.
Sorry. I've decided to do baby chapters. But, this is the character that I must find a name for! Any ideas?