Third Kinslaying

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.