No beloved, please, wake up! Maglor slams the door shut on the memory hastily, but not before he snaps the handle of the ladle he is using.

"Ah." His voice is quiet and almost steady. "Your pardon, Elros, would you watch the mead and make sure it does not overboil. I needs must retrieve a new ladle, it seems."

Swift strides carry him outside, where he can toss the old ladle on the midden and spare a few scant moments to wrestle down his tears before he returns inside and fetches a new one.

"We are not parents because we have no wives, Elros." Almost, almost, he manages to say it without a tremor.