The White Lady stood in her chamber. The elf guard told her they were overwhelmed. Even the Noldor elves who came with Fëanor's sons that stood against their lords to defend their kin did not make any difference. Many of them were slaughtered by their own companions. As were their own people.
"My sons?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"They were in the eastern tower," said the elf, regretting having to tell the lady about it.
She looked shaken.
"Then they are lost..." she whispered. She touched the shining Silmaril upon her neck.
The elf heard cries for help. He run out of the room and headed for the stairs.
The lady watched him disappear beyond the corner. She thought of her sons, Elrond and Elros. They were just children. They still had so much life before them... But now... She looked at the Jewel on her neck. It was all because of it. It was an amazing treasure. It kept her people safe. It was startlingly beautiful. It carried the light of the Two Trees within it. There were two more Silmarils. They were still set in the iron crown of Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World. Her father, Dior died for it. Her grandparents, Beren and Lúthien died for it twice. Her people were dying for it right now. And she would do so too. She made her decision. She would rather face the wrath of Ossë than the blades of Maedhros and his brothers - the Sons of Fëanor, the Fëanorians, whose dreadful Oath would lead them even to kill their own kind. How many times had it happened? The Kinslaying? This would be the last one. This would be the last fight fought for this particular Silmaril.
She would jump. She would fall. She would drown. The current was too strong down below. She would give up to the fury of Ossë. She stepped onto the windowsill. She leaned over. Her hand went to the wall. Her mind reeled backward when she saw the white anger of the waves. Crashing into the cliff upon which the fortress stood. They were the waves that would shatter her own body. She wished Eärendil was there. He would have known how to save her. Save her sons.
Elwing leaned even further.
She toppled over. She fell.
No-one saw her. They could only guess. Nobody in Middle Earth knew what happened to her. What she thought before she jumped. She was often damned for the choice she made. She run away. Some think her a coward.
I think her courageous.
To take a path never taken.
To save what was entrusted to her.
She had nowhere else to go, but the Sea.
She survived. Thanks to her the Valar would come.
But few would remember the part she played.