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Before, each held a Silmaril in his hand, but now Maglor put it on the cask, perhaps to save futilely his harpers’ fingers. Maedhros still stood, staring into the vacant view. Maglor sat resignedly on the ground. 

“I have been thinking, of the past,” he announced.

Hearing Maedhros’s silence, Maglor continued. “I remember, when I was young, you and I went to music lessons together, playing harp in turns.”

Maedhros finally turned, the hand with Silmaril clasped to his chest. “You must have been quite young, because your skill has ever surpassed mine.”

“No, there was a time, transient yet constant, when music was not yet my passion but a fleeting joy. I had been content with those lullabies, about one hundred sheep or castles of clouds. Now I think, who would I be, if I were not a musician.”

“It is an odd hour now to ponder it.”

“But you must indulge me now.”

“That I will.”

“Good, because I did not ask too much. I think, if I had loved music any less, I would have followed you into politics sooner.”

“You did, eventually.”

“Not as early as you. For a long long time, I studied music under tutors and professors, going as far as Alqualondë, while you served at the court. It was strange, for me to leave home after so many years.”

“But you would not regret it. It made you very happy. We all must find crafts that please us, and call them pursuits.”

“No, Maedhros, we call it difference, or isolation, or solitude. I must endure the terrible loneliness to pursue music. That fate has loomed above me the first time those silver strings quiver under my hands.”
“I remember once, you came to me and announced you would not take harp lessons any longer. Was that the reason?”

“Do you love children?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Today is my begetting day.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Time passes differently in each one’s heart. I do not speak of this to merely judge you. But is it difficult to imagine, if you were the one to find Elrond and Elros and cared for them? Is it impossible for me, to retreat and avoid their presence? I doubt if there is an essence in me to determine choices and chances. I should have come to Thangorodrim.”

“Your thoughts ever surprise me tonight. You disagreed and called it foolish, and the following displeasures stood in accord with your sentiment. Even if you wished to, I would not have let you. For even I was aware of the perils and risks.”

“I am your herald and commander. I should have come. Perhaps I would have been chained, and saved by Manwe’s eagle. Would I find pity in me still for the twins?”

“Don’t blame yourself for my choices, but blame the Doom, which lingers still, echoing between mountain walls. Less speaking is prudence, less action is wisdom, and less thought the greatest repayment. But I will speak to you, Makalaurë, because venom upon tongues could not do us harm any further. Have I ever asked for your guilt and penance? Have I ever demanded your devotion? Have I ever ordered your love? I had little reason to do so. And now, I have failed you, yet you still not betray me for life nor for death.”

“Who do you take me for? Following any but my own heart? If I follow, it is only because I give the whole of myself over willingly and passionately, not with bitterness or reluctance. I would regret my sins, but not my following.”

“Yet our paths must part anyhow, as do all things.”

“You are leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Can you deter you?”

“No and none. None can change my mind, not even our dead brothers, our father, or Fingon had he been reborn.” 

“No, I do not even have the right to persuade you, because I am not an impartial judge. I want you to live, yet your life tortures you. So, you shall walk on the broad road of death, I will wander on the narrow bridge of life. I think I will hate you. No, I will hate you, though I do not have the right.”

“I do not care. Always, you will hate me. You devoted too much to me, and you would ask for repayment. All loves come with a price. But I do appreciate initiative and planning in things.”

“I follow you like I follow myself, because it is wise to follow oneself. I love you, like I loved myself, but could no longer without a medium.” 

“Then you would hate me, like you hate yourself, after finding an excuse not to. We, are but two mirrors, where lights and sounds echo between. 

“The same flesh and blood, as they say. Yes, I will hate you, and not for your own faults alone. I will hate you, whenever I see you in the chipped edges of cloudy shells, in the light lances piercing steely skies, and in every sunrise. The living one would determine how the dead live in memory. But not in songs.” 

“ Do you not crave the blissful oblivion of death?”

“I can not desire it. I do not deserve it. And I would not follow you, even if you order me. ”

“Do all Eldar die because they deserve it?”

“No, but I am my own judge, jury, and lawyer, so I would give all to appease a fraction of my conscience.”

“But I must go now and spare little thought on deservings. I do not seek comfort in death, because comfort could also be found in life. Salvation may be found, but I do not hope for it; glory and peace may be restored, but I am no one to deserve it. The world has changed, brother, fading to long-forgotten Past. Tomorrow becomes Today, and Today becomes Yesterday. The water tastes more bitter, the trees sing less lovely, and even the shifting sands lose their shimmer. So do I. So am I changed. And I am very, very tired.” 

“Then I wish you the sweet oblivion, the sweeter silence, and most blessed nothingness. Despair may dawn on us, yet our wish shall be fulfilled.”

Maedhros' pale face cold even in flickering bloody lights from the Silmaril, drops of blood flowed on his wrist and trickled to the searing ground. He lifted his stump carelessly, in a mock salute, before turning away. 

Maedhros walked down, like walking down stairs.