A little recollection of thoughts I had about Maedhros, part of the Feanorion Series.
Disclamour: Belongs to Tolkien.

Maitimo, Russandol, Maedhros.

Well-shaped, copper haired.

That is what you were remembered for,

Your red hair, your lithe body.

You never were ever

Much like your father.

Sweet, gentle hearted.

Yet, a fire grew within you.

You always watched for your brothers.

You wanted to obey your father.

Tortured was your soul.

Marred was your body.

You never wished to slay your kin.

Never wanted your father's jewels.

Yet bound you were to them.

You watched as your kin were slowly taken from you.

That oath was your death.

You wished for nothing, but peaceful lands.

The Silmaril burned yourremaining hand and spirit.

Your end was of the fiery chasm.