The marchwardens have standing orders. Shoot on sight.
*in a tiny voice, her eyes very wide and shocked* S-seriously? *had heard things, of course, but she'd always assumed people were joking, and she'd never guessed how sanitized a version of the story not welcome in Doriath really was*
*swiftly drops the photo face-down on her nightstand, wanting to touch you or reassure you or something but afraid you won't want her to* *miserably* It's my family's fault, all of it. I was reading the old stories. They (we?) attacked your granddad's family. K-killed a lot of people.
*distantly aware that she's starting to babble* The queen, her name was Nimloth and all day, all I've been thinking is "why would my mom name me Ninquelótë?" Cause my dad flips out whenever she... *looking almost pitifully hopeful as a thought occurs to her* Maybe that's why he can't stand me. I mean, maybe he's sorry? *her voice falling away to a near-whisper (get real, Lils)* No. It's just. He never wanted me in the first place. He said so.