"Turn not back." A mighty voice whispered from behind.
He smiled at the words. Long had he waited for them, standing alone in the darkness by the silent water of Lake Mithrim.
"Curufinwë." His greeting was overwhelmed in the howling of winter winds.
A long sigh came in reply. Much closer.
The wind softened to a breeze. He was suddenly aware of the warmth and moisture upon his neck. Never did they stood with such short distance between. He remained his silence, feeling the steady breathing of his long sundered kin.
A hand rested on his shoulder. In a reflex action, he bowed his head the way he always did to avoid attention from his brother.
He had not the time to correct his mistake. The last syllable of his name was cut off as if hewn with a blade.
On the smooth surface of the lake there was but one reflection.