"It's my birthing day today, Ammë . Do you know this?" He looked down, to where the marble bed showed the grave. "Atar never told me how you died. He's says I'll know one day. Why will he not, Ammë?"
The Elfling put down the flowers beside the tomb. "I picked blue flowers for you. Atar said blue was your favorite color. Mine is silver. One day, I'll make jewels like that, like your hair. I like making things. Atar said you wove beautiful things. I will make beautiful jewels, so when you come out of the Halls you can see them. I promise, Ammë." He swallowed, rocking back down on his heels. "I love you, Ammë ." He ventured. The figure lay white and still. Tears spilled over his eyes. "Do you love me?" he whispered. "It doesn't seem like it. But I know you do, Ammë . So don't forget about me. And come back to me as soon as you can."
There was no answer. Fëanoro crouched down at the foot of the stone and wept. Finwë found him not long after, and picked him up. "Why won't she come back?" the Elfling whispered.
Finwë drew in a shuddering breath. "I don't know, little one. Come on."
Fëanoro cast one last look to the grave, and then hid his face in his father's shoulder.