Maedhros looks up at Fingon, eyes full of misery and regret. Fingon, it seems, does not completely understand how much Maedhros has failed him. Not only with his inability to save him from his fate but for all that had come after it as well. All the death and devastation he had caused when he'd been too hurt and unmoored by his loss to care to restrain himself any longer.

He's tempted to argue. To demand judgement. But his king had asked for an explanation and so Maedhros's selfish need for punishment must come after. "What is the last thing you remember?" He asks, but then thinks better of it when he catches a glimpse of the burned and battered armor. "No... don't awnser that. I can see full well what your last memory must be."

He has not risen again and this, if anything, just make him sink even lower to the ground. Bowing his head to hide the tears that has started to rise in his eyes, though he can't quite hide the tremor in his voice.

"For me that moment is long passed," he whispers. "Over a century has passed since then for me. We are no longer in Arda, but in a place called Caldera. Pulled from our own worlds, and times as well it seems, by the Powers here in an attempt to save their own world."