The lashes stung at Amrod's back and he leaned forward, taking his body of the wall and the rough stone, curling into himself.

"O, come on, it's not that bad, just a scratch!" His breath froze in his lungs, pluming into the cell.

"Amras…?" He was almost scared that there would be an answer. A laugh.

"Of course!"

"How…?" No reply. "Wait; come back, please!" His voice was panicked, afraid to be alone again, alone with just the agony pulsating in his every limb.

"We'll always be here, little brother."

"Makalaurë?" It was no more than an exhale.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" It was in a teasing tone, so familiar to him that he couldn't help but smile.

"Yes," the child from his memories answered.

"Just remember," his second eldest brother had told him, "stars can only be seen during the night." His smile fell.

There were no stars in his cell. There was just the black.