Why She Left

Ídhror had gone to bed, leaving Ashwyneth's father to "think over the decision". 
It was pointless, as he'd already decided.
Ash had left many years ago, so he gained nothing from her. But if he gave her to this wealthy Gondorian, Ídhror, then he would gain much from this bargain.
He did not need to explain it to his wife, as he could often earn much wealth at a time...and he would not need to explain why Ashwyneth still lived, after he had told his wife their daughter was dead. Neither of them would need to look upon her face ever again.
He clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists as his memories flooded him.
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"Where is Ashwyneth? She was to sing for our guests this evening," he asked his wife, Aldwyn. She swiped her strawberry blonde out of her face as she looked up at him.
"She ought to have been back by now. Perhaps she is speaking to that orphan boy again?" He furrowed his brows. "I told her she shouldn't hope for a futur-..." "Dear," his wife cut him off. "She is still very young. Besides, there is no harm in them spending time together. I quite like the lad, anyhow. He is very kind and gentle, for one with such a sad lot in life."

He smacked his fist on a wall, startling two of their guests. He took his wife and led her into a separate room, speaking softly.
"I care not for gentleness, nor kindness. They make for sorry attributes if they cannot provide for our daughter and her offspring. Aside from that..allowing an orphan to marry into our bloodline will surely bring ill luck to us."
Aldwyn laughed and it was as if the very air filled with music. She laid her delicate hand on his cheek before placing a kiss on his mouth.
"You worry over such foolish things, my love. But if it is so troublesome that our daughter is not here, then bring her home?"

He nodded after relaxing beneath his wife's gentle touch. "Of course. I will be back shortly." He left the house, his wife leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile.

It was not a long walk to the stable which the orphan boy, Deor, was known to stay around. After circling around it, he heard rustling inside. He opened the door slowly.
His memory only held pieces of what happened next.
Though fully clothed, he saw the lad laying atop his daughter.
Deor's face was very red, he could remember now, as if he was feverish. Ashwyneth was awake, but Deor was not.
Everything seemed...dark. Red. It was as if he watched another's hands do it all:
Deor was yanked to the floor roughly. Two hands held in a pleading manner before his face as he lay on his back, too weak to do anything.
Two hands held a large stone.
A girl's voice, begging, screaming.
The stone slipped from those two hands, slick with blood. Ashwyneth's hands tugged on his arm the entire time, her smaller frame unable to stop his strength in his rage. Once the stone slipped, he whirled around to backhand her face.
She fell to the floor, her entire body shaking. Her mouth hung open in horror as she stared at her father who now seemed a monster drenched in blood, not to be recognized.
"You...you are not my daughter. If I EVER see your face again...I will do the same to you."
She sat there, shaking her head. "No...no..."
He took a step toward her menacingly. "GET OUT!" She scooted back in fear, then scrambled to her feet, running out of the stable.
She did not pause beside what was now unable to be recognized as Deor's body. He knew now that if she had, she would not have been able to leave. She would have fallen to the ground in grief. 
When he returned he told Aldwyn he had found Ashwyneth's body...mangled. Accounting for the blood that remained even after he washed.
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Guilt only invaded his mind for a brief moment, before he fell back into the cold emotionless state in which he remained most of the time.
Yes, it would be much better knowing Ashwyneth would never come back.