“If you thought yourself unable, why not pass the crown to your brothers? Your own blood!” Celegorm was seething. Even though all had been cautioned on the delicate state that Maedhros was in, this had not stopped him from bursting into the unlit room his brother was healing in to demand answers.
“Let him rest,” scolded Maglor, but Celegorm pushed his elder brother aside to stand next to the bed, hovering over Maedhros.
Slowly, silver eyes opened, barely focusing. “Maglor suffered greatly in this position. I have not the strength to rule; he has not the drive.” His eyes closed again.
“What about me?” demanded Celegorm. He continued his rage by slamming his fist down upon a small table beside the bed. “What right have you to pass me by? Tell me, what is it that I lack?”
“Emotional stability,” answered Caranthir with a glare.
Celegorm growled and gestured rudely.
Author's Chapter Notes:
(exceeds a bit; blame Celegorm) Celegorm, Maedhros, Maglor, Caranthir