Once, In the time of the Search for the Silmarils, there lived a Lord who had seven daughters and one very small son. Now when the Sons of Feanor came in their wrath and caused Elwing the White to hurl herself from a cliff, the lord was slain, leaving his daughters and son, whose given name isn’t remembered; everyone called him ‘Pitya’, meaning ‘little one’ to fend for themselves. So great was their terror at the loss of their beloved father, that they ran heedless of anything, carrying the little one in turns, as he couldn’t keep up. After all seven of the sisters had a turn carrying him, they thought they could go absolutely no further, since they were all too tired to carry tiny Pitya any further. They finally came to a hard decision; they would have to leave him with someone, and make good their own escape. While none were really cruel or evil, each thought of herself a little more than she should. When they reached a household and tried to explain to the little one that they were leaving without him, he would have none of it. Wailing and crying, he begged them to please take him as well. While the eldest six walked away, the youngest couldn’t bear her brother’s tears, and hid him away under her cloak. Eventually, without supplies or warm clothes, they perished in the wilds. Varda, however, took pity on them, and placed them among the stars, ever a reminder of that terrible deed. Although on most nights, you can just see the seven sisters, Varda hadn’t forgotten little Pitya. On a clear

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