"Do not be afraid, little ones." Maglor kneels down, trying to offer some comfort. He stretches out his hands to the children.

All around lay the aftermath of the kinslaying. The air is still and silent, filled with a faint metallic scent. Maglor tries to shield the children's eyes from the horror before them, but his bloody armor makes it difficult to avoid. The star of Fëanor on his chest is stained red.

"Sirion is well nigh destroyed so we must take you to a new home." Maedhros walks over to join his brother, standing a head taller than Maglor. His face is grim as he sheaths his sword.