I had no control. I could not stop myself.

The elf that stood in my way did not move as I advanced, shied not away when I raised my sword above my head, nor did he raise an arm to defend himself from harm when my sword fell.

That look, that… the fact that the elf did not resist made me that much more angry, my stroke heavier and the death quicker but surely more painful. I had killed other elves in the Kinslayings, at various times when we had a Sinda to interrogate, even in defending my own unstable borders from intruders. It even became easy to an extent. Just like when I battled the orcs, I stopped thinking of those elves as someone's friend, cousin, brother, son, father…. They became just another obstacle in the way of achieving my goal.

But I had never before killed a child.

I felt no regret about the others, they could all have made other choices to keep them from being in that situation, but the child… his face haunts me. My mind will not rest, my heart and soul will not quiet… he will not leave me alone!

He was no more than eight years old – just old enough to have some semblance of an idea what was happening around him, though not yet old enough to be able to do anything about it. I had battled his father – he would not let me into his home, even though I had given him a fair reason and a chance for him to remain alive.

The elf's resistance to me only made things worse… for him, of course. He must have been a border guard, or had held some similar position, for his fighting style was well practiced and smooth, and his weapon was well made. He handled the sword with a skill that took many years to master. But I was stronger. I was better. The elf was good enough to hold me off for quite a while, and, to my surprise, he even succeeded in wounding me… if only slightly.

But it was enough.

He must have been thinking that if he wounded me I would go easy on him and his family… but that was not the case. I had seen my own blood, felt it trickle into my eyes and the salt sting them. I paused a moment from my attack to touch my forehead, blood coming off onto my hands. Whatever the elf's goal had been, the only result was that he had made me more furious and more bloodthirsty than before. I growled.

Five seconds later, he cried out in pain because he had lost an arm. I watched as it fell to the floor with a satisfying thud, his sword dropping from his remaining hand. He dropped to his knees and pleaded with me to spare his wife and child, knowing that he would soon die, if not by my hand, then by loss of blood.

I was not listening to him. I kicked his sword away from his reach even as blood poured from his wounds. With an infuriated scream, I took off his head in one swift stroke of my sword. Fear and pain still filled his eyes even as they flew with the rest of his head as it flew across the room. I cared not that I had just killed him, not even that he had only been trying to protect his family. He would never have understood my plight. I was on a search for Elwing, who could have been hiding in any one of the cottages or shacks in this settlement. I needed to find her… it was a need that filled me with more passion than anything that he could have felt. Ever. It had been driving me, propelling me, even forcing my hand on occasion, to find and claim that to which I had bound my soul, my life and my eternity to.

In her possession lay a Silmaril.

I kicked the elf's arm out of my path, and as I was about to step into the next room, an elleth appeared, pleading with me to do whatever I would to her, just not to harm her son. She soon lay in a crumpled heap also, her neck snapped and the starlight gone from her eyes. In my rage, I had not heard a word that she had spoken to me. Instead I killed her with less mercy than I had shown to her husband.

And there, behind her, stood a boy. He was the son that she had died to protect. He had just seen me murder his mother, and most likely his father as well. He no longer had anyone or anything to defend him, to protect him from such living monsters and nightmares like myself. He only stood there staring at me, clutching a small cloth doll to his chest and suckling on his thumb. Like his parents, I did not see him as a person, but only an obstacle in the way of accomplishing my task.

I killed him with one stroke. Just one.

He did not scream, did not move away, did not try to block my stroke, but somehow that boy managed to get his blood on my hands.

This startled me so much that I froze to the ground where I stood. I felt the anger draining from my being, then grief, remorse and regret filling in the void. My sword fell from my hand, the point falling through his mother's cooling flesh and into the ground. I winced, for this blemished not only her body, but also put a black mark the honor that she had died with. I had not meant for that… yet it was still of my doing.

The torso of the boy just laid there unmoving, his eyes were open and staring at me. His heart was still beating in his chest. I tried to look away from him, to shield my face, but I could not vanquish the image of his ice blue eyes from my mind. I had to see what I had done to this boy. His silent stare beckoned for me to look at him, called to me to see what innocence I alone had marred. When I did steel myself to look again at the boy, the half of him that had eyes blinked. He let out no sound, but I swear on my life that he blinked. I could not have been imagining it, for when his eyes opened again he peered at me with all the concentration and focus that anyone could muster at any age.

I screamed and scrambled backwards over furniture and bodies before finally colliding with a wall where a small hinge dug into my back. I gasped in momentary pain, wishing that I had walked into a blade that would have taken my life. Wishing, even, for my death to replace his. I knew it could not.

When I could concentrate again, he was still staring at me, though his eyes had dimmed. This time the light had left them forever. What a horrible way for anyone to die. For the first time in my life I cursed my strong hand, and my clean strokes. His future was gone, as a leaf in a strong breeze. I clambered onto my knees to lower my head in prayer. I do not know why I did this, nor to whom I prayed, but I felt that I had no other option.

That is how one of my lieutenants found me – on my knees with my head bent in front of the body of a boy. He rushed inside, for he had heard my scream and feared the worst. I sincerely wished that I had died then. I honestly did, and sometimes I still do. That lieutenant does not know what the worst punishment to live with is. No one does.

"My Lord, are you all right?" The lieutenant did a quick assessment of me, and found no obvious wounds besides the one on my forehead. In his rush to get to me, he had kicked the child's body out of the way.

His disregard for the body angered me, far more than his interruption had. I felt the heat from my soul that made me Fëanorian rise up and flood into my face. I jumped up, pushing him towards a wall, my hands on his windpipe. "Have you no respect at all for the dead? Had that been your son, would you have carelessly kicked his lifeless body from your path? I think not." My hands, as if under their own will, applied more pressure to his neck. The elf grabbed my arms and tried to pry them away from his neck, but he was no match for my strength. "These hands, lieutenant, are stained with the blood of thy Kin, and they did not stop to show mercy to a child…. Have more respect for the dead."

He stared at me, as did the other three soldiers that had come into the room behind him. For the first time I realized that the lieutenant's eyes were ice blue… the same as the boy's. I dropped him to the ground, where he started coughing and wheezing to regain his breath. I took a few steps back, and looked at my blood-soaked hands. The blood of the boy, mingled with my own. I grabbed my sword from the elleth's body and fled from the house.

Maitimo was just then walking towards me, a saucy, proud, and frankly overconfident smile plastered on his face. He obviously had not heard my scream, but he did see my bloodied, shocked face and hands and his smile faded very quickly. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and to get rid of the headache I received when I ran from the darkened home into the sinking sun. I shot the sun a dirty look. How it mocked me, daring to shine on me when I had just committed the unthinkable.

"What is it, Maitimo?" My tone was short and impatient.

He looked concerned. "What I have to say can wait." He touched my forehead, his fingers stinging the cut where the boy's father had injured me. I winced, but swatted his hand away, earning myself another worried look.

"That is nothing."

The lieutenant and the soldiers had followed me out of the house and were not standing three feet behind me. I glanced at them, the lieutenant still was coughing and staring at me with a mixture of shock and anger. Maitimo saw them there also and steered me further aside.

"Macalaurë, if it were really nothing…"

"I know Maitimo!" He shrank from me, for my words were filled with my anger at his persistence.

"Our Father lives on in you this day, Macalaurë. I see his soul inside your eyes, not your own." He gripped my right shoulder. "Do not let that happen! Not when we are this close to finding what we have long suffered for. The Silmaril is nearby… my soul can feel it. I am pulled towards it… salvation is close at hand!"

"There is no salvation anymore, Maitimo." My voice was quiet.

"Aha! There is my brother again." He sighed. "I know, Macalaurë. Then one more thing, one more black mark against our souls will change nothing."

I do not think he knew what I done. He looked as if he had a secret, as if mother had given him chocolate to share with his unknowing brother, who had to guess what it was. I shook my head, clueless.

"I have a wonderful surprise for you, my brother. But you must guess what it is."

I shot him a cold, dark look. "Do not toy with me."

"They found Elwing."

"Where?" I was not as happy as had I thought I would be, and it was evident to me that Maitimo noticed my lack of enthusiasm from the drop in emotion in his voice.

"She was in her own home. She has refused to allow anyone in, and also fervently refuses to leave. I have taken her word and ordered the soldiers to find and kill any survivors of the village and burn everything after dark." The fact that the soldiers were ordered to start killing survivors barely registered in my mind.

"She was in her own home?"

He nodded.

"Argh!" Maitimo took another step back from me. If Elwing had been in her own home the entire time, then that meant that I had not needed to kill those elves… nor their child. I grabbed a dagger from my boot and hurled it into the nearest tree. Maitimo stared at me.

"I can hardly recognize you, little brother."

I fell to my knees and cried out in anguish, my face in my hands. Maitimo fell down next to me, putting an arm over my shoulder and rubbing my back. "Macalaurë, tell me what it is that causes you so much pain." He spoke quietly, trying to calm me.

"I cannot, brother, I truly cannot. Not now." I shook my head, and after a moment of silence, he stood up.

He knew I could be just as stubborn as he was about some things (who did he think I learned that from?), including how I would bottle emotions up inside myself. My brother shrugged. "Suit yourself. But for now, we will dress that wound and give you some food and rest, then we will see Elwing."

"You don't have to wait." I knew firsthand how much he wanted to find that Silmaril. I was not about to be the reason he had to wait.

He smiled to me. It was that kind, cheerful smile that he always gave me when we were young in Aman. That was when everything was simple, and no one had ever killed anyone else. "You have lost as much, if not more, than I have in these last few hundred years, little brother. I think we can both hold the Oath off for a little while longer."

Nearly an hour later, when we entered her home, Elwing was seated in a chair, her hands calmly folded in her lap. She had been waiting for us.

As I anticipated, Maitimo wasted no more time. "Where is the Silmaril, Elwing?"

"I will not tell you where it is, nor will I give it to you." Her face was stony, but her eyes and her voice gave away her fear. She had rehearsed what she had said. "Ever."

"You husband has deserted you, and every single elf and elleth in this settlement is dead. Your protection is gone," I said. Elwing went pale, though her face remained resolute.

"What chance do you think you have? One way or another, Elwing, my dear, my brother and I will have that Silmaril." Maitimo held out his hand to her and glanced at me. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just won a great battle and, yet, no one had lifted a finger.

Elwing spit into his hand. "No Silmaril will ever touch your damned flesh, Princeling. Not if I have anything to do with it."

He slapped her in the face. Her head whipped back at an extraordinary angle, and a red mark developed on her cheek. "That was not very ladylike, Elwing. I would have expected something more courteous from the granddaughter of a Maia. But… I forget, you also have the blood of men in your veins. That disgusting fact does not even excuse your behavior."

"When you begin to act like your own sex, elf, you can tell me how to act like mine!" She snapped at him. This was not something to say to him, of all people, if one is interested in self-preservation. She must have known that. Then again, the faster that she could get him to kill her, the longer it would take for us to find the Silmaril, if we ever did.

Maitimo, now a distinct shade of deep purple, growled and grabbed her by the neck. He kicked out the chair from under her and slammed her against a wall. I felt the blood drain from my face at the familiarity of his actions.

"Where are they!" He yelled at her, as he pressed harder onto her throat. She still remained calm and did not try to struggle against him. She knew how to make him angry.

"If you kill her, Maitimo, she will be no good." When she glanced at me, I could see that she knew this also, and that was her plan.

"I will never tell you," the elleth whispered, her face turning a darker shade of red. She managed to spit on him again, this time on his face. He growled again and slammed her back against the wall a second time before letting her drop in a heap on the floor. There was an indent in the paint and plaster of the wall. I would not have been surprised if there was a bump on the outside of the hut, also.

Maitimo kicked Elwing in the stomach as she was trying to regain her breath. She choked and he smiled. I was repulsed, but did not say or do anything. I did not dare to. Maitimo walked across the room and looked outside. I gave Elwing a sympathetic look and tried to help her into a chair. She looked confused, but nonetheless she refused my help, mumbling something about "filthy Noldorin Princelings". When Maitimo returned, he stared at me. My brother shrugged it off and continued. "Perhaps, Elwing, if you will not tell us where it is, then your sons will."

"No!" She tried to stand up from her chair, but Maitimo grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her back down onto the seat. She froze as he squeezed the pressure points. A soldier entered the room, two children walking in front of him. Maitimo strode over to the children after dropping her to the ground again. She stood up and unconsciously rubbed her neck. Maitimo took out his sword. "Tell me, Elwing."

She stared at the blade in his hand. From where I was standing, I could see tears forming in her eyes, and I knew they were not from physical pain. "I never thought you so ruthless, Noldo, that you would kill children." This struck a note in what was left of my heart.

"Whatever it takes. Whatever the cost, I will have that Silmaril." He yelled. "Which, Elwing? Choose."

She sobbed. "I will never tell you!"

The two boys were blindfolded to protect them from seeing such monstrosity as the blood and gruel throughout the room (I doubt that this was Maitimo's idea), and their hands were tied, with a rope that then ran around their stomachs so they could not move. What amazed me was that they did not whimper, cry or move against their bonds.

"If that is your choice, Elwing…" Maitimo raised his sword, ready to bring it down upon the two boys.

"NO!" I yelled and ran across the room. Luckily, I was able to catch Maitimo's sword with my own before he was able to strike. Luckily, my voice also surprised him enough that he had hesitated momentarily.

I moved between him and the children. He gave me a very astounded, confused and, finally, angered look. "Macalaurë, what do you think you are doing?" His voice had become very quiet, very dangerous. I could see the smoldering fire in his eyes, the same that he must have seen in my eyes earlier.

"I cannot let you harm these children," I told him, surprising myself as much as him.

"Macalaurë, they are our key to finding the Silmaril! With them dead, Elwing must tell us where the Silmarils are." He tried to take a swing at a different angle, but I was still standing in his way. He would not strike his own brother, or so I hoped.

"You will not hurt them, Maitimo."

Elwing looked up at me, confusion filling her face more than Maitimo's. I met her gaze, and something was understood between us in that moment. I felt my heart sink, and my stomach bottom out. By stopping my brother, and therefore by helping Elwing like this, I had just sentenced myself to an eternity of suffering.

"Move, Macalaurë!" My brother's furious voice caught my attention again.

I looked down, and shook my head.

"Kanafinwë, I will not ask you again." He leaned towards me, his eyes filled with fire. "I am this close, Kanafinwë, as are you."

"I feel the Curse also, Maitimo. You know that I cannot escape it, nor can I deny its presence. But I can stop you from doing this to innocent children."

He was not himself, this I could see. This was our Father's soul controlling him. "Move, Kanafinwë. We are Kinslayers. We have killed before-"

"Then let it be stopped here-"

"MOVE Kanafinwë!"

"Who now has our Father's soul, Maitimo? Of all of the evil, condemning things I have done, I have never threatened the lives of my family members. I have killed our brethren again today, and the bloodshed needs to stop. Now."

Elwing was still staring at me, her eyes unbelievably wide. Suddenly, she stood up and raced out of the door. Maitimo's back was to her, although I assume that he saw her flee in the corner of his eye. Slowly, his eyes rolled back to me, the fire and anger in them more prevalent now than ever before.

"We are this close, Macalaurë," he repeated, his voice taking on that deadly silence again. "This close. Do not make me wait any longer!"

"Wait for what?" I sneered. "Do you think that just because we would be in possession of the jewels that we would be finished with our task? Where do you expect us to find them? Where should we put them if we find them?" I knew reasoning with him was pointless, but I needed to stall for time.

"That is for later! The Oath is so close to being fulfilled!" Forgetting the children, he turned towards the door. I stepped in front of him. "Move, little brother."

"Not without you hearing what I have to say. Do you not see that the Oath could never be fulfilled? Any claim that we would have had to those Jewels was forfeited in the first sword fall at Alqualondë."

"Do not make me fight you. I will forgive you letting the children live, but if you make me lose the Silmaril she carries-"

"That is just my point! She has one Silmaril, Maitimo. Think about this also. Her parents were only able to wrest one from Morgoth's crown. The other two are still there. Going after Elwing is only fulfilling the easy part! Not even someone such as you, who are people will follow to death, will not find following enough to march to Angband in a suicide mission. Not even I would follow you into that."

An elf, bloody and limping, burst through the door. He looked confused at the state of things, but spoke anyway. From the look on his face, I could tell he had drawn the short straw over who should tell the Fëanorians the bad report. My brothers and I had been known to, on occasion, injure the messenger of ill news. "My Lords, Elwing has thrown herself into the sea. We could neither catch her or find her." He left as quickly as possible, slurring his last words in an attempt to leave faster. Maitimo growled and I winced. The two boys were still nearby, and I was sure that they had heard everything. Their faces had gone very pale as I looked at them. Obviously they had understood what the elf had said.

It was then, when I was looking away from him, that Maitimo raised his sword and struck at me. I pushed the boys away from us, sweeping them back towards a wall. They would be more of a hindrance than help now. I had let Elwing escape, I had destroyed his only chance of saving his own soul. I had betrayed him, injured him, angered him enough to forget reason and reality, as those of our Father's ilk were wont to do. I knew that if he got through me, he would kill the children in the same rage I had that one boy, and I could not let him do that. He would feel no remorse over their murders, and probably none over my death, either.

He would not stop this fight until I was dead, or he was clearly unable to win. I already knew what I had to do as I parried his sword.

The brawl ended with both of us bloody and exhausted, but still alive. At least for the time being.

Maitimo had run from the house, realizing what he had done to me: a large gash in my thigh that was probably an inch or two deep. Fear and uncertainty had come into Maitimo's eyes when he heard my scream of pain. In his rush to exit, he had left his sword on the ground, my blood still on the blade. I knew he would come back for it sooner or later. That was the sword that Findekáno had given him before the Nirnaeth, and he would never leave something so precious behind.

I fell onto a chair, my breathing heavy and my leg bleeding profusely. I was tired, too. The injured leg could hold no more than a quarter of my weight, and even then I was in immense pain. I stood there for a moment, assessing the current situation as well as I could. Maitimo might not return for a good half an hour or so, the boys were out of sight (I knew that they could not have gotten very far), I was too injured to walk for great distances. The most important thing at that moment was for me to do something about my leg before I bled to death. I could have called for a healer, but I did not want their attentions called away from those soldiers who needed their expertise more. I would have to bear the pain while I searched for a needle and thread. With the deed done, a tourniquet still tied around my upper thigh, I decided to rest in a small room while searching for the sons of Elwing. This was probably a former playroom for the children, as there were small toys strewn about on the floor. There was a second door in the room, behind which I heard the sound of light, interrupted breaths. At first I thought that one of them was injured, and my heart raced thinking that either Maitimo or I had been careless and struck a child. I realized, after a sniffle, that either one or perhaps even both of them were crying. I could understand why. They had just lost their mother, and were probably scared out of their minds of those two big, unfamiliar, and surely ugly and mean looking elves coming into their new house and threatening their mother.

"Elrond! I told you not to breathe so loud!" One of the boys whispered. "He'll hear you, then they'll find us and kill us!" I smiled at how childish and unthinking the boy was. I sat there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with these two boys. I could not bring myself to leaving them there, for there was no one to find them or help them, I doubt if anyone thought that they were still living. Besides, leaving them there to fend for themselves was just as much a death sentence as bringing a sword upon them would be. I remember searching for days through a forest for Elwing's twin brothers, only to find shreds of clothing and bones cleaned of flesh by wolves and other wild beasts. I would not let that happen to these boys. I would not be able to live with that grief knowing that I sent them to a slow, painful death. At that moment, I decided that since the Oath was already lost, that I would take these two boys and raise them… if they would let me. Herenyë and I had seriously thought of having children, and I rue our decision to wait. I do not know if she ever remarried.

My mind made up, I stood and hobbled to the door where the two boys were hiding. I touched it, quietly leaning my head on the wooden slats. I was still hesitant to give up my life to raising these two children; especially after all I had been through. But it was what I had to do. I saw no other option. I felt compelled by something to take care of them. Whether it was a paternal instinct of some sort, or some divine breath of influence from the Valar that made me do it, I could not tell.

"I know that the two of you were in there, so you don't have to stay quiet any longer." There was a moment of the classic "I told you so" bickering to be heard, but they soon quieted down without intervention.

"Are you the one that helped us?" One of them spoke up. I guessed that this wasn't Elrond.

"Yes. I promised not to let you get hurt." I opened the door, finding the two of them standing there, looking up at me. They trusted me already, and I couldn't believe it. It must have been like impressing little hawk fledglings. Once they trusted you when they were young, they would stick with you for life. The two boys still looked afraid, though, and they turned a paler shade of white when they saw me covered with blood. Most of it was my own. They hadn't seen my face before, I realized, for they were blindfolded when they were led into the room earlier.

"You don't look very friendly."

He had me there. I supposed I looked quite frightening. Even more so than I did normally.

"But he is a friend, Elrond. Stop being stupid." He looked back up at me after pausing to glare at his brother. "What happened to the other one, the angry, mean one that yelled at Ammë?"

He must have meant Maitimo. What should I say? "He is gone right now, but he will be back sooner or later."

"I don't like him. He hurt our Ammë."

"Is it true Ammë jumped into the sea? I had a dream that she would." The one called Elrond asked me. He was obviously the smarter one, the other one the braver and more reckless of the brothers, he was probably the older one, also. They reminded me vaguely of Maitimo and I when we were children. I was, naturally, the smarter one. I was then, too.

"You have too many dreams, Elrond."

"I dreamt that he would find us." Elrond pointed at me, accidentally striking my thigh. I inhaled and bit my lips at the sudden rush of head-spinning pain, but I did not say anything. "Well, is it true she did?" He was looking up at my face again.

I knelt down next to them. "I suppose that it is, young one." I saw their lips pucker, and tears well up in their eyes. At the same moment, they both started bawling. I do not know what compelled me to do so, but I took a boy in each arm and hugged him to my chest. I suppose it was a comforting measure.

"Macalaurë…"

The boys stopped sobbing immediately when the intruder, my brother, spoke. They clutched on to me from fear. One of the twins whispered in my ear. "Keep us safe."

"You do not need to worry, you two, Maitimo will not hurt you." I shot him a cold stare and he shook his head.

By some large amount of luck and huge expenditure of previously buried strength, I was able to carry them both from the house, though I am sure that the ride was a bumpy one, due to the fact that I had a ferocious limp. When I set them down so I could look at my leg in better light, they stayed within five feet of me, and would not look at or talk to my brother. They did take food and water from him though.

By the time it was dark, I was able to get them far enough from their village so that they would not need to see their home in flames. I found some dinner for them, and soon, after a few introductions (on their part) and mild story telling (on my part), they fell asleep on a number of blankets that I salvaged from a few homes. I bathed my wounds in the clear, cool water from a nearby brook. I was already dead tired, but I would have, somehow, to keep awake on watch for them for the rest of the night, and longer. I did not know if I would even be able to find sleep for a number of days. My energy was already spent, and my body needed rest in order for me to be able to repair my wounds properly. I was alone, though. The three of us had disappeared into the forest. I didn't have a plan. At every turn, I was depending on my instincts, quickly depleting energy and the luck I have always lived by to guide me. At least one of those was bound to run out soon. It would have to happen sooner or later, though. I didn't know what I was going to do when it did.

"You should have a healer look at that, Macalaurë." Maitimo's voice appeared from behind me in the darkness of the trees. I jumped when a knapsack fell onto my lap.

"There is food in there for breakfast for them, and a few salves and bandages to better dress those wounds of yours." He poked the bag with the cool end of the stick I was using to stoke the fire. The top flopped open, and a small leather pouch fell out. "I spoke to the soldiers; they have no complaints about helping with the boys.

I looked up at him, silently thankful for his presence. I had not expected to see him. He obviously accepted the fact that I was taking care of the children, and realized that he had to help me. Nay, he didn't have to help me, I am sure that it was just better than living with the guilt that we caused these boys to be homeless orphans. He sat down next to me, and was eyeing the two boys, apparently aware that he could have awoken them with his voice.

"You know that you should have a healer look at that," he repeated. I could tell he was not being completely serious because of the bandages he told me that he had packed, but it was obvious he was worried for me.

"It will be fine in a few days. Besides, I've had enough wounds like this over the years that I know just as much as a healer."

"But none from your own brother."

"Forget about that."

"You know I won't, Macalaurë. Listen," he started.

"You do not need to apologize, Maitimo. There is nothing for you to apologize for. I understand why you did it."

I felt his dark, brooding eyes focus on my face. "What?" He must have thought me even more insane now than he had earlier.

I looked towards my brother and reached for a roll of cloth bandages. "Do you know why I was so torn up earlier today?" He shook his head. "During our search for Elwing, I entered a family's home. The father fought me with enough skill that he managed to wound me." I pointed to my forehead, which was already beginning to heal itself. "I was so angered that I killed him, his wife, and did not even show mercy on their defenseless child. He could not have been any older than the two I now am taking care of. They were even playmates at one time, I assume." I looked at the ground before checking that the boys were still sleeping. I did not know how I would explain to them that I had killed a child, possibly their friend, and that trying to make up for his death was the only reason I was taking care of them now. "I will never forget his face, Maitimo. I was so outraged and bloodthirsty that I killed a woman and a child for no reason. I could have pushed them out of the way and gone about my business, but I didn't. I have been in that uncontrollable rage, and I have committed those grievous deeds. I atone for them by taking care of Elwing's sons. We doubly owe it to her, for the death of her brothers."

"That we do, Macalaurë." He was quiet for a moment. "They had done nothing, these two, and I would have killed them for no reason whatsoever, besides the fact that I was out of my mind. Thank you for stopping me."

I sighed. "I wish I could say the same."