Maedhros could feel everything and nothing. He burnt and froze, and could not say for certain if his dreams of his father and the Halls of Mandos were real. But now his body felt heavy and ached with such intensity that he felt ill. Maedhros could smell grass and trees, and the faint smell of bread baking drifted in from somewhere in the vicinity. He could hear birds and a horse whinnied. Someone nearby was breathing. He was not alone.

Maedhros tried to open his eyes, but they proved too heavy. He tried to sit up, to move, but his body would not obey. He lay in the darkness a little while longer. Only the darkness he now endured with his eyes shut was not one of horror and evils, but one of protection and safety. The world here felt safer, wherever here was. He did not know how to explain it, he just knew. Maedhros took as deep a breath as he could muster and forced open his eyes.

The sudden light made him blink several times as his eyes adjusted. He again tried to sit, but his body would not obey. He opened his mouth, or at least felt as though he did, but no sound came out. Maedhros forced himself not to panic. He was somewhere safe. He knew that he knew this place, if only he could bring his eyes to focus. He again tried to speak, and his voice cracked.

"Maedhros?"

Within a moment, Fingon was sitting upon the bed beside him, and took Maedhros's left hand, holding it tightly in his own.

"You are awake," Fingon said. Maedhros forced his eyes to focus. It had been many years since he had last seen his kinsman, and much had come between their peoples, most of it proving to be for the worse. And yet here Fingon now sat, his eyes welling with tears of hope and relief at Maedhros's awakening. Maedhros again tried to speak, and again no noise came out.

"Rest," Fingon said, reaching out and gently pushing back Maedhros's hair from his forehead. "We shall have time aplenty in which to talk. For now, just rest."

"What…?" Maedhros croaked, his voice hoarse and faltering.

"Shh, save your strength."

"No…" Maedhros croaked. He was determined for answers. There was much he did not understand. "What…?"

"Do you not recall?" Fingon asked, "Upon Thangorodrim? I found you, and you - Thorondor came, Maedhros. Do you recall the King of the Eagles?"

Maedhros tried to give a nod as the memories came rushing back, threatening to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them again to see once more Fingon's fair face looking down at him. Fingon had found him. Out of all the Eldar in Middle-Earth, it had been Fingon. "D - ," Maedhros tried again to speak, but the words stuck in his throat.

"Here," Fingon said. He let go of Maedhros's hand and stood up. Beside the bed sat a jug and goblets. Maedhros followed Fingon with his eyes to watch as Fingon poured the clear water from the jug into one of the goblets. Then with lightness of touch, Fingon placed his hand behind Maedhros's head and tilted it up, and put the goblet to his lips with the other. Maedhros drank greedily, although he seemed to dribble as much of the water down his chin as he managed to swallow. Fingon put down the goblet and took a towel, gently wiping Maedhros's face. Maedhros could feel the water surging down inside of him, like heavy rain over an arid landscape. He looked again at Fingon.

"D - did you know…" he words sounded distant and peculiar, almost as though they belonged to another.

"About?" Fingon asked.

"Did you - know…" Maedhros tried. His chest hurt and his limbs throbbed and his head pounded. "A-about…"

"Sleep now," Fingon said, and gave a kind smile.

"But - but did you know?" Maedhros asked again, his words slurred, and his eyelids heavy.

"Speech pains you still. Sleep, and worry yourself not. Here you are safe."

Maedhros tried again to ask, but this time no word came at all. Maedhros closed his eyes. In his dreams, he heard Fingon singing.

...

As soon as he was sure that Maedhros was asleep, Fingon left his kinsman's bedside and sought out Maglor. Fingon had forced himself to smile for his friend, to keep a lightness to his voice, to stop the sorrow and pity overwhelming him. It had been close to a week since Fingon had returned with Maedhros to Mithrim, and Maedhros looked little improved, still gaunt and grey, with dark rims under his eyes. But he had awoken. Surely now that must change things.

"Maedhros awoke," Maglor said, writing as usual in his chamber.

"How did you know?" Fingon asked.

"You've not left his side for days," Maglor replied. "You would not have come unless he awoke. How is he?"

"He was drowsy and confused, and I believe in great pain. He spoke little, but he drank some."

"Good," Maglor said, avoiding Fingon's eye, "I am glad he was not alone. He shall begin to wake more often now."

"I know," Fingon said. He shook his head, as though it might remove the visions he could see but too clearly with waking eyes. "But I do not know if it was right. He is so hurt."

"You did the only thing you could live with," Maglor said, "You alone have to live with yourself. With your actions, your decisions, your history. You alone must decide what you can and cannot carry. You went after him. You saved his life. You brought him back. Yes, you were forced to injure him, but your options were extremely limited. He will recover. He will live. We know that now. You did that. You saved him."

Fingon knew that Maglor spoke the truth, only his words were of cold comfort. Fingon felt little like a hero or saviour. He could hear Maedhros begging him to take his life, to end his suffering. Fingon felt only as though he had left Maedhros down.

"What?" Maglor asked.

"Pardon?"

"Something is on your mind," Maglor said, "What did Maedhros say?"

Fingon swallowed. "Just now?"

"When else?" Maglor said, losing patience.

"He kept asking me if I knew. I know not what he meant. I know it easily could be dismissed as the chatter of one in such anguish, only,"

"I do," Maglor sighed, "I know of what he meant. What did you say to him?"

"I told him to rest," Fingon said, "Has something occurred? Something of which I should know?"

Maglor stood up, walked over to the window and gazed out across the lake. Anything to not have to face Fingon. "When our host arrived upon the shores of Middle-Earth, Maedhros alone spoke of the boats returning to collect the host of your father. He did not wish to leave you. Debate between the our father and my brother was heated to say the least. Our father refused, and Maedhros conceded unhappy defeat. He took no part in the burning of the ships, and did not allow himself to be seen anywhere near the bay until all was done."

Fingon was silent for some moments. So they had not been entirely forgotten. Fingon understood the position Maedhros had been in. He could not disobey his father and King.

"I believe he would have captained the ships back to Araman himself, had our father consented of it," Maglor said, continuing to look out of the window.

"I did not know," Fingon breathed, "I did not know…"

"Maedhros likely believes it to be the reason you came for him."

"But it is not the reason. I came for our friendship is old, and what love we held was enough to have me seek him out. I must go to my father. I must tell him of what has happened."

Maglor turned. "Go," he said, "I shall watch over Maedhros."

"I shall return," Fingon said, a new light glowing inside of him as he hurried from the Halls of the sons of Feanor.

...

Maglor leant against the end of the bed. Maedhros's breathing changed as he slowly awoke, and Maglor felt his brother's pain as Maedhros opened his eyes with much effort. It hurt Maglor to see his brother in such condition at all. "Fingon did not know," Maglor stated, as Maedhros forced his eyes to focus upon his brother, "About the ships, and you challenging father. He did not know."

"But?" Maedhros croaked.

"He does now," Maglor said, and moved around to the side of the bed, "I told him as much myself. But he knew not when he sought you out. For that he took no counsel, and did entirely of his own will. Forgive me, and our brothers. We thought you lost to us. Fingon alone did not give up hope. His loyalty to you,"

"Stop," Maedhros whispered, his words slurred, "Of that I already know."

"I know," Maglor said.

A shadow of a smile flickered across Maedhros's face. "Where is he now?"

"He has gone to see his father. He has hardly left your side since he returned you to us. Fingolfin is thoughtful and fair. It has been some thirty years since he has seen his son. Of what has passed he deserves to know."

"Fingon set off at once?" Maedhros asked.

"After you awoke easier, and then he came too see me, yes," Maglor replied.

Maedhros closed his eyes. "I should have…fought father…"

"You know what it took for Morgoth to have father slain. Take peace in the knowledge that the Noldor are reunited in Middle-Earth once more. And your return by Fingon's doing has done more to heal old wounds between our people than anything else."