[VanimaEdhel]

Menelya quietly entered the room. She saw her daughter had been reading, but now stood by the window. Her daughter only gave a slight nod of recognition as she walked into the room, her back still turned. She sighed, debating whether she truly wanted to deal with her daughter at this time. She finally decided that, if she did not speak with the girl now, it would only be that much harder in the future.

"Daughter," she said quietly, "I did not see you at all today. What were you doing?"

"I was reading," Anwaelme said, not turning from the window, "I might ask the same question of you, Mother."

Menelya had been around most of Imladris, in truth, so it was impossible that, if Anwaelme had strayed from her room at all, she would not have been informed of where her daughter went.

"I had errands," Menelya said, "I traversed most of Imladris. You, however, did not leave your room at all, so it seems."

Menelya was not completely sure of this as an absolute truth, but she wanted to see how her daughter reacted. If Anwaelme showed any emotion towards her, loving or otherwise, it would be an improvement to this cold, monotonous voice that her daughter had taken on with her. Ever since her betrothed left.

Menelya often wondered if her daughter truly loved the Elf, but only feigned indifference to him because Menelya was the one, in fact, that pushed for the bethrothal. It seemed that the girl pined for the boy whilst he was in combat. Either that or she was trying to get as much freedom to herself until he returned and she would once again be bound to him.

Anwaelme would never tell Menelya how she felt. Menelya knew that Anwaelme did not trust her. Menelya, however, only did what she thought was best for her daughter...or so she though. Sometimes Menelya wondered if her intentions truly were not, in fact, of the most benevolent nature, but were, in truth, a greed for power. Menelya shook off these thoughts - and accusations by her daughter - by assuring herself that she did not want the power. The power was all for Anwaelme, to give her a better life.

"Is that all, Menelya?" Anwaelme said, coldly referring to her mother by her name, rather than calling her Mother.

Menelya gave a start, realizing she had been standing there. She looked at Anwaelme, who had returned to her desk, and now sat, reading again. Menelya wondered, again, whether she should go on.

"Did you leave this room?" Menelya finally asked.

"Of course, Mother," Anwaelme said, coldly. Menelya could still tell, however, that the girl was being truthful.

"Well..." Menelya faltered, "I think you should get out more. It is not good to be inside too much. You will wither without the sun and joy of the outdoors."

Menelya knew that Anwaelme no longer believed this tale, but she just could think of nothing else to say. She moved over to the door and left Anwaelme to her peace.

*****

Once in her room, Menelya looked briefly out the window, thinking of her long-dead husband. Had she been happy with him? Menelya did not really know...

Menelya sighed, breaking once again, some time later, out of her thoughts. She crossed to the candles dimly lighting her room, blew them out, and climbed into bed, preparing for a night's rest.

[ April 03, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]