“Hatred fades,” Galadriel said quietly. “Your name is old now. In this time of evil, seldom spoken, and if it is, more likely of your bravery than – aught else. If they knew you by sight at all. So many here are young.”
“Artanis,” Maglor said, a note of harshness strange in his voice. “Please. I cannot. Even this…it is more mercy than I would allow myself. I indulged this worry because you are all the family left to me, and that still means something, somewhere. But I would not…I laid my own path, and I will see it to the end.”
“Do you intend to die?” Galadriel asked bluntly, and felt only a small sting of guilt when Maglor flinched.
“No,” he said, after a moment. “I do not. I owe it to…I owe it to all of them to live.”