A/N: Originally written as a song fic. I can never remember what the song was.
Regret. It was the last thing Fëanor felt. As Gothmog's mace bore down on him, an overwhelming feeling of regret and sorrow swept over him. Even as his sons arrived, he know that it was too late for him. He deserved this fate. Regret was the only thing he could feel and was unaware of his own lips telling his sons to uphold their oath to the death. As his spirit finally overcame his tired body, a tear rolled down from a clouding eye, tracing a line down hardened cheeks. And as Fëanor's spirit left his body, the tears finally came.