How might I cry?
How can a spirit of fire cry? It is impossible – they cannot; though inside my tears are innumerable.
Though in a way, I am glad, for now that she has gone there can be no more burning for her. She is safe.
Safe yet heartbroken, I rue and rejoice the day I made the Silmaril's, they have both filled and emptied my heart. No room for a wife any longer...room for pride and glory though.
I shall miss her and I mean it. She was my light and my dark – now there is only light and I cannot suffer that to be gone from my life also. Light that cannot love in return, light that is only light...emotionless. Memories of our courtship come flooding back to me at certain sights. I imagine the touch of her work worn hands, the feel of her hair and taste of her kiss. I am reminded every time I look at my – our sons.
My fire passed into our sons and they burnt her too...I watched as she became more worn with each birth...yet I still needed her. When she fled from me I would win her back, regain her love again.
This time there shall be no more winning back, no more tempting her back with flames of warmth and love. I cannot. And she will not.
There is room for one more emotion in my heart, and that is guilt. All I ever did was burn her.