[ He's like a drug addict, needing his next fix, the light in his eyes hungry and despairing both, hands flexing and clenching and clearly held down to his side by will alone. ]

Three. [ He smiles bitterly ] My father's greatest creations, and quite possibly the last bits of his soul left untouched by Morgoth's taint - no one really knows how he made them.

And no. [ He trembles, clearly wanting to push past Killua into his room ]

I... just my brothers and I. And father, I suppose. We who were foolish enough to bind our fates and our wills to their retrievals.

[ He shudders, nails biting into his palms so badly that the right is already bleeding ]

Hurry. I don't... Don't look at it. Only... three ever could yield it up, when it came into their hands.