His lips thinned, fury sparking through him as his son spoke. Of failure, of being useless. Fingolfin drew himself up, reaching to turn Fingon's face back up to him.

"I barely succeeded in wounding Morgoth. In doing so I died. I cannot ask for any better from you, and any who try are fools who do not know your strength." Though it didn't help that Fingon himself didn't seem to know it either.