Maglor
Back at the Havens of Sirion, Maglor's hand struggled to wipe away the sheen of sweat under his helmet. Maglor's forces had doggedly cut their way through the town and now the bard-turned-general was standing at the crest of a hill. "Amrod," he commanded loudly.
From ten feet away, his second-youngest brother made his way through the press of soldiers to stand at Maglor's side.
In the heat Maglor's stomach had started to churn unpleasantly. He hunkered down under his shield. "Where is Amras?" he asked urgently.
Amrod's face was drawn with exertion. "He went off with Rhochanar's company when they began searching the houses. I haven't seen him since."
Maglor growled. "Amras following his impulses as ever. I told him to stick by me until we reach Earendil's home. I suppose he wants to prove himself to Maedhros."
In Amrod's eyes Maglor could sense words unsaid, though in the thick of battle he didn't have time to probe Amrod's opinion about brotherly politics.
What Amrod spoke aloud, however, was this. "How do we know which house is Earendil's?"
In response Maglor pointed silently at a boat carved into a delicate metal gate at the end of the street. "You and I need to go first. Elwing may be inside with the boys. I don't want another set of innocent's blood on our house's hands."