"Then such few of that people as did not perish in the assault joined themselves to Gil-galad, and went with him to Balar; and they told that Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but Elwing with the Silmaril upon her breast had cast herself into the sea."

Maglor

Maglor caught up with his brother too late.

The soldiers of his brother's retinue parted as Maglor approached, and he could see Maedhros standing alone at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the sea. Maglor silently gestured for Maedros' men to move further down the slope and give the brothers some privacy. They obliged. Cautiously, Maglor approached his older brother.

Maedhros' bronze armor reflected the light of the setting sun bright enough to make Maglor shield his eyes. Maglor smiled slightly. Like a coal in a brazier, Copper-top. His russet-red hair had been braided back so as not to get in the way during the battle. One hand leaned up against a boulder, and Maglor suspected that it was supporting much of his weight. His face was pale, other than some dark wet specks.

Eventually he spoke. "She jumped, and took it with her."

Maglor stepped up beside him and followed his gaze, to where the surf crashing against the rocks below laced ribbons of foam that undulated across the wine-dark swells. In his mind, he saw Elwing as she must have looked earlier in the day, one lone figure backing away slowly towards the edge of the cliff. Maedhros must have towered over her. Maglor pictured his brother's hand reaching out towards the jewel nestled against her throat and Elwing, with grim determination in her eyes, stepping back to tumble down helplessly into the foaming waters.

"I tried to talk to her," Maedhros burst out.

Maglor tore his gaze away from the rocks. Maedhros was striding back inland, and Maglor struggled to keep up with his brother's long steps.

"I asked her to finally see some sense. Her great-grandfather swore an oath once, too; would she have asked him to break it? Thingol and Dior died uselessly, for something that never belonged to them in the first place. I told her she was the only one who had the power to end this bloodshed." Maedhros' armored boot stabbed into the soft grass as he stalked back to camp.

"I'm sure that went over wonderfully, what with her sons dying today and all," Maglor panted as he kept pace with him. "The bit about dying uselessly, that was a good touch."

Maedhros stopped suddenly and Maglor ran into his back. "Elrond and Elros? We gave strict orders that the two boys were not to be harmed. We're not murderers, Maglor."

"The elves littering the pavement in Sirion right now will be glad to hear of that," Maglor snapped. "Blood enough to paint every street red, but as long as Earendil's boys are all right, we can keep our moral high ground. Thank gods everyone else we killed was poor people."

Maedhros stood frozen for a moment before he responded. His face had paled again, and Maglor noticed the bags under his eyes. "You rode out, too."

I know! Maglor wanted to shout back at him. In his head, Maglor threw away his own sword in frustration and shook Maedhros by the shoulders as if he could somehow transfer to his older brother the rage that had been simmering inside him. The adrenaline of battle had subsided, leaving Maglor alone with a swell of self-loathing that bubbled up in his chest and made every breath hitch in his throat.

Maedhros swayed slightly where he stood. Maglor noticed, and reached his hands out to his brother's shoulders to hold him up. Maglor sighed. "I know."