Note: For a change this is important so please read it!
1) Each chapter is a different twin but they aren't fixed: for example the first chapter isn't decidedly from Amrod's POV or Amras' POV – it can be either. But the second chapter is from the POV of the other twin. I hope that is understandable…
2) When they say 'my brother' without any indication to which of the seven brothers they are talking about their twin.
Waah it's the last one! I really got attached to these two writing this… but this needs posting so here you go:
I feel so much grief, three of my brothers…and the Silmaril is in the hands of Dior's daughter who escaped the ruin of her home. The fresh mounds of earth are sparsely decorated with all we can find; the four of us that remain circle the graves of our brothers. Their skill will never be seen again, not on this earth. I never thought any of us could fall, not after Maedhros survived. The people of Dior paid dearly for the death of my brothers; my twin himself slew Dior, avenging Celegorm as he was slowly dying next to me.
We are to believe that Nimloth was also killed. Bitterly my dead brother's servants left the sons of Dior to starve and perish in the woodlands. I cannot comment on how harsh the action was as in my attempts to gain the Silmaril back I killed maids and others in their attempts to escape. Maedhros sought them out in the forests for days after we had buried the dead, desperate to console himself; but he never found them.
"I cannot bear to wreak further war upon the people that fled here. Not yet, not so soon after all the slaughter" Maglor nods in agreement with our elder brother; he is weary already of our endless toil. I look at my brother and we also nod.
After many days of avoiding the oath and trying to live without its presence we were drawn back to it. The four of us gathered again, without Celegorm to stir us to anger and wroth we managed to write peacefully to Elwing at Sirion, but we demanded the Silmaril be returned to us. As before, with her father, no reply was sent to us. And as before we prepare to take action against them.
The settlement is in sight, their fighters face ours. I sense nervousness in the air, from our host as well as theirs: the oath is driving us to all ends. My eldest brother holds his sword aloft, and then we advance. There is the usual clash as we meet them, swords ringing upon shield. I follow my brother into the fray; as he cuts a path I watch he is not harmed. Our people follow us and we have soon broken through their ranks.
"We should cut right and meet with our brothers in the middle!" I shout to my brother, he nods and we signal to our people. As we near our brothers I shout in surprise as I kill an elf before me. He bears the armour of the Noldor, others stand against us. What is happening?! I look to my brother and he seems equally confused, it appears the hearts of our people waver. They are tired of the oath and the slaughter that goes hand in hand with it. I harden my heart which is no longer a difficult task, those that are prepared to deny us the Silmaril shall fall.
Suddenly I feel a searing pain across my stomach: just where the chest plate of my armour ends there is a slash across my skin. I gasp in pain and crumple unwillingly to my knees. So this is the end, I will die without the Silmarils being reclaimed.
A sudden thought comes to me: where is my brother?! Not alone now, no I will not go to Mandos without him! "Brother" there is a weak voice from my left, with my last strength I roll over. There is a weak smile on my brother's blooded lips as our eyes meet.
Too alike to not die on the same day.