Sand and MusicSand and MusicHe feels he cannot walk another step, until he does. The next step is the same, and the next, and he has stopped counting the sunsets and sunrises because measuring eternity has no purpose. He has wandered an eternity already, carrying his small harp for some indeterminable, compulsive reason, because it will be years before he can play again, if ever, and the sand blows into his eyes and into his throat as he sings. His hands are burnt and scarred and his voice is hoarse, and he wants to rip the strings from the taunting harp and scream, but he is unable to do either because it hurts too much.
Maedhros: Son of FireHe was the fireDevouring flameWine until bottomAnd pain of fameHe was my fatherHis anger like floodWe sealed our OathIn fire and bloodThe flame extinguishedBy Oath we're still boundThrough tears and painNo rest to be foundThe blood on my handsAnd my hand in chainsWhat was it forWhen nothing remains?The Light we sought, burnsSo close, yet so farWe are not worthyTo touch a starBurning flame, take meAnd clean the stain Take the cursed JewelAnd end my pain!In fire it startedIn fire it endsJust like my fatherThe fire in my veins
Was this a symbol of his that I am forgetting about? Or did you invent it?
It's talked about here, if you scroll down to the "Feanor" heading: [link]