The jaundiced look he gets in return is one that Maglor had almost forgotten he knew.

"No more than you." But then he shudders a little as he looks around the halls and pulls his hands free with a wince. The right is the worst, burnt black with white edges, and he knows that that one will scar. The left is still red and weeping. "I... threw the Silmaril into the Sea. If... does that make me foresworn?" Because if it is his fault they are here...