But the voice and the spirit tire. When what you fight to keep is taken from you again and again, your reason for trying - for living - becomes vague. Maedhros had lost the will to shout or even speak in those final days.

"I cannot stop you." but it doesn't set well with him. Fingon shouldn't believe in a monster - in a murderer and a kinslayer. He should reserve his hope for himself and those worthy of it.

"I make no assumptions, cousin." he bows his head to accept the kiss, his heart waking and aching because of it. His love for Fingon hasn't dimmed since their parting; if anything, it has grown by leaps and bounds.

"Fire..." his face pales of color and he looks at the light in the distance as if he is facing his demise, "I cannot go too close to it."