I thought my release would mean my freedom, but I fear I am wrong. This torture I am put through, day after day, is no doubt my penance for abandoning the son I should have nurtured and raised myself. I would never have taught him to hate his brothers, nor to force his children to choose between himself and their mother.
Instead, here I sit, weaving their tales, their destruction, and their doom. Their suffering is my suffering; they shed tears as I shed tears for them, staining the cloth. Beautiful images of horrible, haunting events, year after year, until they are all returned, by death or by ship. All except Maglor, the soft-spoken, serious grandson I have never met and yet know so well.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Miriel, re: Maglor & others