A/N:  The narrator is an Elf of Doriath and this takes place back when Doriath fell for the last time. (Chapter 22:  Of the Ruin of Doriath)

The Price

(exactly 100 words)

It is the reason I died; there in the Thousand Caves. Maybe if he had just given the Silmaril to the sons of Fëanor, I might not have fallen in the underground streets, cut down by my own distant kin, my blood soaking into the paving stones of the city. But instead, Dior gave us up to the kinslayers; every man, woman and child of us, and we paid the price for his accursed obsession.

Why couldn't he give it to Maedhros and his brothers? How much more blood of the Firstborn will that jewel claim?  Will none be left?