My face and stance must betray me, for Fingon's eyes grow wild and afraid ere I even begin to speak.
- Yours cousins -
His face grows taut, white lips parted in a silent, stricken cry.
- Angrod and Aegnor are dead.
I watch horrified as sheer relief floods his face, shining through skin and bone. A heartbeat later it is gone, replaced by shame and grief - yet I have seen, and wish I had not. His eyes are pleading when next he speaks.
- I feared -
- I know what you feared, I say gruffly, and walk away.