Estarfin at the Havens

Tears are falling freely from my eyes, whether from the smoke or sorrow I no longer know. I am covered in blood, and it is not my own. This night has brought nothing but madness and awful grief. I stand before a small house, the roof burning, the acrid smoke mingling with the pall of smoke from a hundred other fires. The Haven is in ruins, the last shelter in Beleriand destroyed by our own hands. The occupants of the small house lie at my feet, and my heart nearly breaks as I look down at them. The smallest of them could have run, could have hidden. Instead he had tried to protect his mother using nothing but a small wooden training sword. I do not know why, but I picked it up from the floor, wondering if he would have grown into a warrior had he not stood against me…