Summary
"As the sword lifted menacingly over his sprawled body, he laughed weakly. It would no longer be a killing; it would be mercy to end the life of Curufinwë Fëanáro at this point. It would be desirable to him, if not for his Silmarils. They were his lost children, crying to him, begging for their father to save them." Fëanor battles under the stars and remembers.