"The full tale is a very long one, and I am not the best to tell it, as the worst of it occurred long before I was born." Elros follows her over and sits down with a sigh.
"It involves several people including two who would become very dear to me, making some incredibly stupid decisions in the heat of the moment, which ... well. While it might be normal here for the Dalish to stand aside from the other elves, in mine, it is unthinkable, the worst of sins. Or well. It was. Until Feanor and his sons, in grief and rage, swore an oath that would eventually set them against their own people, leading to no less than three slayings of elf by elf. The first time, as I understand it, was as much an accident as deliberate, but it resulted in the kinsmen of the Teleri, the sea-elves of Aman, to refuse alliance with the Noldor, the deep-elves, when they arrived in Middle-earth, despite that they were all fighting a common Enemy. All for the sake of their slain kin on the other side of the Sea."
He rubs his eyes.
"I am, on my mothers side, descended from those elves, the Sindar of Middle-earth. But on my father's side I am Noldor, and I was raised so, for in the third, and what many consider the worst of the kinslayings, the remaining sons of Feanor came down upon the refuge haven of Sirion, because the Queen of the Sindar held the weregild that they were sworn at all costs to retrieve and refused to yield it. She ...was my mother. And rather than give them the jewel for which her family had bled and died by their brother's hands, she... threw herself into the sea with it, and left my brother and I behind. I must assume she thought us as good as dead, for I cannot forgive her leaving, otherwise. We were six."
He sits hunched, eyes far away in the distance.
"I don't remember much of that time - we were hustled away by servants early, hidden away, although we heard the screaming, of course. But we were found by an elf with sad eyes and a golden voice, and although his armor and sword ran red with blood he was so gentle and patient with us. We should have died there, by rights, my brother and I. But he took us with him, and he and his brother raised us as if we were his own. To this day, my brother identifies as Noldor, not Sindar, a fact which must irritate that side of the family no end! And I, when the choice was put before me, I saw the deep divisions that had resulted in so many deaths, and I rejected my elven heritage entirely to cleave to my mortal grandfather's road instead. I am Elros Earendillion of the House of Hador, and I will walk out into the adventure of death, rather than linger."
no subject
"It involves several people including two who would become very dear to me, making some incredibly stupid decisions in the heat of the moment, which ... well. While it might be normal here for the Dalish to stand aside from the other elves, in mine, it is unthinkable, the worst of sins. Or well. It was. Until Feanor and his sons, in grief and rage, swore an oath that would eventually set them against their own people, leading to no less than three slayings of elf by elf. The first time, as I understand it, was as much an accident as deliberate, but it resulted in the kinsmen of the Teleri, the sea-elves of Aman, to refuse alliance with the Noldor, the deep-elves, when they arrived in Middle-earth, despite that they were all fighting a common Enemy. All for the sake of their slain kin on the other side of the Sea."
He rubs his eyes.
"I am, on my mothers side, descended from those elves, the Sindar of Middle-earth. But on my father's side I am Noldor, and I was raised so, for in the third, and what many consider the worst of the kinslayings, the remaining sons of Feanor came down upon the refuge haven of Sirion, because the Queen of the Sindar held the weregild that they were sworn at all costs to retrieve and refused to yield it. She ...was my mother. And rather than give them the jewel for which her family had bled and died by their brother's hands, she... threw herself into the sea with it, and left my brother and I behind. I must assume she thought us as good as dead, for I cannot forgive her leaving, otherwise. We were six."
He sits hunched, eyes far away in the distance.
"I don't remember much of that time - we were hustled away by servants early, hidden away, although we heard the screaming, of course. But we were found by an elf with sad eyes and a golden voice, and although his armor and sword ran red with blood he was so gentle and patient with us. We should have died there, by rights, my brother and I. But he took us with him, and he and his brother raised us as if we were his own. To this day, my brother identifies as Noldor, not Sindar, a fact which must irritate that side of the family no end! And I, when the choice was put before me, I saw the deep divisions that had resulted in so many deaths, and I rejected my elven heritage entirely to cleave to my mortal grandfather's road instead. I am Elros Earendillion of the House of Hador, and I will walk out into the adventure of death, rather than linger."