[ a pause, then ]

It is... complicated, atarinya, and bound, as so many things are, with your silmarils. [ Maglor sighs and fiddles with the harp, looking for a way to explain ]

We learnt, eventually, that one of them was in the keeping of the peredhel princess of Sirion. When she did not yield it, we... stormed their camp. [ the words are like ashes in his mouth - Sirion was little more than a glorified refugee camp, far too few guards, and mostly frightened survivors of too many wars and kinslayings - things might have been different if Earendil was home, but he was not, and so... ]

We did not retrieve it, and ... Elwing jumped - to her death, we all thought, leaving behind her two children. Twin boys - Elrond and Elros. Maedhros, sorry, Nyelafinwe and I... we took them with us. [ and perhaps it is notable that Maedhros is the only one he mentions, of all his brothers ] We... I could not tell you with any clarity what we were thinking, that day. I suppose we wanted hostages, if their father came back? I do not know. But... over time... things changed.

[ a long pause, then he admits ] Elrond is as a son to me.