Valar, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts and it won't stop.
Will never stop.
He saw his father burn and despaired.
But losing a parent was something you could survive.
Thousands of other living beings did each day, so could you.
Even when your father was Feanor.
Yet this … Maglor screams in silent agony, when death
takes his little brothers. Now, he absently thinks, the elves
who killed them are kinslayers as well. No matter if
they may deny it to the End of the Days and nurse the
believe as Feanorian's they clearly deserved it.
Doriath needed three warriors to take down Morifinwe.
Tyelkormo died upon Dior's blade and Maglor had
the satisfaction of seeing him draw his last breath.
Atarinke bleed to death beneath his hands.
Ambarussa fell, when one half was slain in Sirion
and the other followed not thinking twice.
Maitimo vanished into the night, seeking fire and death
to leave the last son of Feanor behind.
We are brothers, Maglor wants to cry. You promised not
to leave me … Where are you?
Mandos, they answer. We are waiting.
Come to us and we will be seven again.
So Maglor begins to walk north.
Noldor crossed the Helcaraxe before. So can he.
It's not that the ice could harm him.
It could only lessen the amount of walking he as to do.