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Revision as of 20:29, 29 September 2008
" Why, wise lady, I think that we should tell you tales of the Past and of Arda that was Before, of the perils and great deeds and the making of the Silmarils! We were the lordly ones then! But ye, ye would then be at home, looking at all things intently, as your own. Ye would be the lordly ones. "The eyes of the Elves are always thinking of something else" ye would say. But ye would know then of what we were reminded: of the days when we first met, and our hands touched in the dark. " ~~ Finrod Felagund
"But my father loves them," said Turin, "and he is not happy without them. He says that we have learned nearly all that we know from them, and have been made a nobler people; and he says that the men that have lately come over the Mountains are hardly better than Orcs."
|| This user loves Fëanor over any other elf.
| Sons of Fëanor
|| This user supports the Sons of Fëanor as the rightful owners of the Silmarils.
"He was dark-haired as his mother, and promised to be like her in mood also; for he was not merry, and spoke little, though he learned to speak early and ever seemed older than his years. Túrin was slow to forget injustice or mockery; but the fire of his father was also in him, and he could be sudden and fierce. Yet he was quick to pity, and the hurts or sadness of living things might move him to tears; and he was like his father in this also, for Morwen was stern with others as with herself."
"That may be, if fall you call it" , said Túrin. "That may be. But so it went; and words stuck in my throat. There was reproof in his eyes, without question asked of me, for a deed I had not done. My Man's heart was proud, as the Elf-king said. And so it still is, Beleg Cúthalion. Not yet will it suffer me to go back to Menegroth and bear looks of pity and pardon, as for a wayward boy amended. I should give pardon, not receive it. And I am a boy no longer, but a man, according to my kind; and a hard man by my fate."
|| This user thinks Beleg Strongbow was just like any other Sinda. Only better.
"Can I not, can I not, Mablung ?" cried Túrin. "But why no! For see, I am blind! Did you not know? Blind, blind, groping since childhood in a dark mist of Morgoth! Therefore leave me! Go, go! Go back to Doriath, and may winter shrivel it! A curse upon Menegroth! And a curse on your errand. This only was wanting. Now comes the night!"
House of Finwë