Disclaimer: Tolkien's Middle-earth...
Notes: to complete a set inspired by the elements
His had always been the way of fire - was he not his father’s son? Eldest, flame-haired warrior, he’d sworn the oath, wielded sword against kin... He regretted the ship-burning that forced his cousin’s people into the hellish march over Helcaraxe... but he’d not gainsaid it.
His remaining hand reached to seize his birthright... the surface burned. Like acid, like molten agony... searing into his flesh. More... it scorched his fea. To know he was no longer worthy to touch the blazing light of the Trees... was to know utter despair.
Both he cast into fiery chasms, the Silmaril... and himself.