A/N Something hit. More of a ramble I think. I have a second part written...but I won't put it up immediately.

May life treat everyone well.

It is always dark here.

The stars cannot even penetrate the thick canopy of the massive, dark oaks and beeches.

Even though Maeglin has not really seen much beyond the forest of Nan Elmoth, it really was otherworldly, given the nature of its prominent resident.

Aye, his sire most definitely was an avar, cunning and sly…and quite the crafter.

Maeglin was not entirely sure how he felt about that. He was not sure on a lot of things, ever since he gave ear, eagerly and willingly, to his mother's stories and adventures.

Ever since then…and seeing the stars, there had been a desire instilled in him.

Adventure…leaving…seeing…

Were it that he could.

But, thank the All-father, Eöl was away, so Maeglin went off to travel to the northern border of the forest. Sadly, his mother could not join him this time, as she had to tend to whatever rare matters of importance that are present. Not that Maeglin minded too much, her being absent on their journeys was not a frequent occurrence. Still…company would be welcome. Any sound of another person.

That was not the silent servants throughout the house.

He did not understand them…secret and silent. All the time. The only time they were indulgent in their lord's son was when Maeglin was a small elfling, but even then, all they ever truly did was smile. When he shed tears during those times, away from Aredhel's ear, some of the handmaidens would speak in quiet voices, even sing, though their songs were somber.

Now thinking on it, the whole matter concerning the other elves just seemed off.

The few guardsmen were clad in his father's galvorn, wearing masks around their faces. One of them, as Maeglin searched his memory, had a cut ear.

…a missing finger.

Though people may claim and spread ill rumors about Maeglin later in life, his indifference towards things, the elf could not help but feel a little disturbed by these facts. He even felt a chill go up his spine.

He narrowed his eyes, moving a large branch out of his path. What is it that is about them?

He heard a creak and snap from the distance.

He almost panicked. Almost.

A beast, it had to be a beast. Nothing to worry about…

But he was sure no animal could speak like an elf.

"…how have I come here? How did I arrive? So much has changed…too much!"
It was certainly an elf. And they sounded afraid? Maeglin furrowed his brows. What should he do?

The wanderer continued on, "…sent me here, sent me here. Why? Nothing resides here!"

Who sent them?

"…my last punishment." It seemed hope sounded in the elf's tone, "…will I be free?"

Maeglin, hiding in the shadows of the trunks, finally caught sight of the lost wanderer. It was an elf-sire. Nearly white in skin, maybe a pallor (do elves get sick?), silver greasy hair, and gaunt in face and body. It was the wanderer's attire that seemed out of place. The tunic and strange additions was a combo of dark red, gold, and black.

Of all things considered, Maeglin was used to seeing semi bright colors, or things that reflected the night sky and celestial objects, in contrast to the dark of the forest. This, this was just sinister.

He did not like it.

Not one bit.

Maeglin frowned, studying this elf intently, as said elf tripped on a root (he assumed). However, his heart was slightly pulled towards pity as he saw the look of utter despair cross the other being's features. He looked so close to just giving up on everything as he was on all fours.

"Why? Why me?" The elf-sire had a mood swing: a dangerous one, he snarled, "Of all your pathetic thralls, out of ALL of them, why did you pick me?!"

Maeglin felt further unease grow. The son of Aredhel and Eöl did not know what made him move, but he ended up walking right into view of the mad elf.

The one on the ground drew in a sharp breath and stiffened at the sight of Maeglin, his rage forgotten and left in wary apprehension, eying him carefully also.

Maeglin got a brief look into the stranger's eyes.

They were nearly white, as one blind. Whatever glaze was present only enhanced the natural, silver color in his irises.

The adolescent stumbled back, almost ready to flee.

"P-please, do not leave me here, lost!"

Maeglin stopped, slowly looking back, again feeling his heart being pulled in a swirl at the sight, unsure of what to do.

The stranger flexed his fingers into the leaves on the floor, a faint crunching noise sounding, "…I do not…I do not…know, I know not how long I have been wandering. So much is unfamiliar, dare say I believe I never travelled through this place before."

Maeglin searched. And listened. He discerned the forced effort into sounding sane and civilized.

The stranger kept looking at the younger elf, "…you know, the ways here, yes?"

Maeglin gave the faintest of nods, not sure why he did, but he was still being careful.

Were that his sire was here, he would know how to deal with strange people like this.

The wanderer sighed in relief (was it relief, or still fear? Well, fear was obviously still there), bowing his head, the hair concealing his features, as he looked about ready to collapse just there. It would be fair…the wanderer was emaciated. Seeming to forget Maeglin was there, he started rambling again, "People…my own folk…somewhere. Oh, would they be surprised? Help?" He started to tremble, "No…no…I don't…want this anymore." He said in a near sob.

Maeglin felt more distress on his spirit witnessing this, hearing it. Could an elf stay alive holding so much sorrow and pain on their shoulders? As he still retained childish nature, he approached cautiously and crouched down.

The wanderer was still, lost someplace in his own mind. He found himself again, slowly looking up. He too narrowed his eyes eventually, "You are silent…both in tongue and foot." He nearly panicked again, and pushed himself away from the younger elf, "Could it be naught but my own imaginings? Ai, twisted memories of my own progeny! It has been so long since…"

Maeglin remained where he was as he suppressed a jerk of surprise at the outburst as the strange elf trailed off and lifted a hand to his forehead.

"Am I alone in this misery?"

"No, you are not." Said a new voice, one that even made Maeglin yelp in surprise. Almost had a heart attack in fact, as he whipped his head in the direction of the voice.

Eöl.

How?

So soon?

The dark elf simply stood between two trees, hand clasped together in front of him, dark sword at his hip, and garbed in his grey, wispy robes. The dark jade circlet on his head. With the flimsy fabric able to move in many directions as he walked, the silver hair, and the dark eyes made Eöl look like a wraith in the forest.

All too true, in fact.

The stranger stared hopefully at Eöl, it seemed. Given the fact Maeglin's father has been the only other one to talk, aside from this…person.

The hope seemed to dim however, and the elf frowned, "No, no…I am all alone, cast out alone. Useless. No one would understand…no one would care!"

Eöl had remained where he was, his expression neutral and calculated. Nothing escaped it as he simply observed.

The scrutiny was too much, even though Maeglin had distanced himself, and the elf had another mood swing, "See! See? You both but stare at me oddly. Like I am mad!" He actually laughed, "Oh, but I am mad! I am but seeing this! I am so…so lost…" He moaned.

Maeglin finally looked at his father, seeing Eöl walk with quiet steps, evenly spaced steps, towards the mad-elf. Composed still, back straight, and all but gliding along the forest floor. The dark-elf got on his knees before the oddly garbed being, still watching, waiting it seemed, for the possibly blind elf to look back.

He did, eventually, but it was with fair mistrust.

"Do you recall your name?" Eol asked, with a tone of unnatural gentleness, though his expression remained set in stone.

Maeglin blinked, surprised at this question, and its phrasing. And wondered.

The elf seemed to be caught by surprise by the question too. At a loss of his tongue for a few moments, before in a quiet, defeated voice, answered, "…No." He bowed his head.

Eöl did not look surprised. Well, it was quite hard to tell what he felt half the time, except if he is among dwarves.

But the elf looked slightly angry then, moving away, "But what does it matter? You would not care! I have seen others cast me aside, look at me strangely…this…this is not new!"

"No, it is not."

The elf gaped at Eöl's statement, again caught off guard. Maeglin could see the bewilderment, maybe further terror. The elf seemed afraid of this lack of control. Being thrown off guard by unexpected answers…

"H-how would you know? You do not…know me."

"No, I do not know you, but I have seen and dealt with many of our kinsmen who has suffered the same as you, my friend."

Caught off guard again, but this time with skepticism.

Maeglin's brain was working hard, and he was not liking what was being put together…

Eöl continued, leaning back on his heels and spreading his arms out in a welcoming gesture. All the while he still had a neutral, stony face, as the flimsy wisps at his shoulders lightly fluttered in the breeze, "You shall be known as Berthedir, kinsman. Now know I do not know your manner of escape…" He raises a brow, "…or if you escaped at all. But it does not matter; I offer you an escape; a place of shelter, away from that dark place. Away from him, Berthedir…"

Escape…him?

Maeglin blanched, were it possible for his already white complexion, as he recalled the stories of the Noldor and the enemy that they pursued…

…in the north. In Angband.

Maeglin felt himself sad, as his brows were drawn together, now understanding things in a clearer light. If the light could be clear discussing such a dark matter.

"Away…" The elf, now dubbed Berthedir, whispered, but he tensed soon after, staring at Eöl angrily, "How do I know you are lying? Some foul trick? Oh, my torment will continue!" He hissed, "You cannot help me, not hope to understand!"

Eöl seemed unfazed. He lowered his arms and stood up, "No…perhaps I cannot, nor shall I hope." He paused, "You have a choice to make, Berthedir…a forgotten privilege, but decide where you shall take your life. You can accept my hospitality, and be with freed souls like yourself. Ones who do understand, and have many luxuries at your disposal." The dark-elf turned, "Or I can leave you to wait your end in the darkness of my forest, and further wander where you will, if you can find your way out." Eöl's face twitched faintly, likely having just thought of something that annoyed him.

Maeglin felt a little angry at his father for being so cold towards this tormented soul, even though his voice was still strangely soft and gentle, but he could not deny the truth of the words. If Berthedir did not accept the offer…what else could he do?

"Come, son. We must return to our home."

Maeglin blinked out of his musings, looking at Eöl, who was looking at him in return, then back at Berthedir, who looked shocked and frantic at what was put before him, and maybe glad at having a new name…but Maeglin and Eöl were almost out of sight…

"Wait…"

Eöl stopped, and looked over his shoulder, expectantly.

Berthedir was looking at nothing, appearing weary, before raising his eyes, "…I…I will follow you…"

Eöl revealed nothing, but when Maeglin looked, he swore he saw joy in his sire's eyes at those words. The adolescent frowned, for a moment feeling jealous. His father hardly showed approval with him.

The dark-elf approached Berthedir again, holding a hand out. Maeglin doubted Berthedir could get up on his own, after the emotional and mental strain he had just gone through. And whatever that was pushing him onward before must have left, since he had found help…

Eöl held out his sword to his son. Maeglin took it. Without even saying a word, Eöl hauled Berthedir over his shoulders. Maeglin's assumption was correct, hearing Berthedir give another defeated sigh, and went limp a few moments later. Eol did not as much give a glance at his son before he began his trek towards the halls. Maeglin quietly followed behind, and moving foliage out of the way when he needed to. Though his father's affinity with the trees…they would do it for him.

They approached the gate. When the two watchmen saw Berthedir on their lord's back, Maeglin heard their sharp intake of breath, though the masks concealed whatever expression they had. The adolescent looked at their eyes. Now just noticing one of them had a scar over an eye.

"Take Berthedir." Eöl commanded in his customary even tone, now that said elf was likely unconscious. One of the watchmen did so, "You know what needs to be done…and burn these clothes. It would not surprise me they still hold to their affinity of making the wearer uncomfortable in them, in spite of the "finery"."
The three of them left…Eöl held out his hand to have his sword back, and Maeglin mutely passed it on. But the dark-elf stayed in place. Waiting for something.

Maeglin, in a whisper voice, finally spoke, "…You are back early…"

"Yes. Does this surprise you?"

Maeglin internally sighed. His father's stern, nigh unfriendly demeanor was back. Maeglin refused to answer the question. A few a moments' pause, with more caution than before and perhaps some accusation, asked, "…are they all thralls?"

Eöl turned to face him at last, "I had followers from Doriath when I first came here…I had thought them loyal to the end, but I was wrong, it seems. They eventually grew tired of the "gloom" of Nan Elmoth, and eventually grew more accepting of the sun and moon."

"So you mean to say yes, all our servants were once thralls." Maeglin narrowed his eyes, "But they appear no less happy to be here than if they were still locked up."

Eöl frowned deeply, "We will never understand what they went through in that fortress. All that matters is that they are somewhere else away from that hell."

Maeglin bit his cheek, not feeling the need to continue further.

There was a bit of awkward tension between them, before Eöl spoke again, "…I will commend you for being there as you did. I might not have found him were it not the case."
But was it for the better?

"How is prolonging suffering good for any of them?"

"Are you accusing me of being a slave driver?"

Maeglin did not flinch at the harsh tone, "I do not understand why you do it, when you are so…"

"Callous?" Eol scoffed, "Uncaring? Restrictive? They are free to leave if they wish. But tell me, which would be better: to die unknown, to be eaten by the wildlife, or to fade away from the sorrow of their heart, in a safe place, knowing that there were some who still cared, who tried to heal some of their wounds, when so many would scorn them without a second glance?"

Maeglin could get an idea of who Eöl was referring to, and stayed silent. Ever since Eöl learned of what Aredhel was teaching him, father and son had been steadily growing apart…

The dark-elf harrumphed, "Of course you would resort to that. But I know how you work, Maeglin. Do not think I am that blind." Eöl left then.

Maeglin stood for a time, before he went into the house in search of his mother.

The young elf was looking at the servants more closely ever since he figured out their secret. More specifically in their eyes. Some he found had some light in their eyes, a peace, some happiness in their current situation, despite the torments they had suffered. Some looked dead on the inside, they simply existed, uncaring. Others, they were hurting, trying to cope with their past and struggling to finally realize that that is in the past.

It disturbed Maeglin.

He approached the bedroom where he assumed Aredhel would be. Without knocking he opened the door. The white-lady looked up from her lace work, the handmaiden also looked up. She was one of the livelier ones, but she rarely spoke too. The handmaid curtsied to both, giving a small smile, and she left the room.

"Lómion," Aredhel began, standing up and approaching her son, "I did not expect you back so soon from your journey to the north border."

"Father is back."

Aredhel blinked, "…so soon." She murmured, and sighed softly, "Well, nothing much can change that. But, it means we can all be with each other again."

Maeglin frowned at that thought, it did not please him. Whenever his father was here, it was a tense-festival he was going to. Maeglin just could not understand Eöl anymore.

Not after today.

"What troubles you?"

Maeglin registered the fingers brushing through his scalp. He could not help but purr a little at the touch. He was one for physical touch on a large scale, perhaps nearing an unhealthy level.

It would be hard to blame him, to one degree…if he is not often showed the affection of both parents. It may have something to do with his avarin heritage too.

And literally having only one person to talk to…

"We…found someone, in the forest. Well, I found him…"

Aredhel said nothing.

Maeglin sighed, looking at his mother pointedly, "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"What they are?"

Aredhel bit her lip and she turned to sit on the bed. She sat back straight, hands in her lap, while Maeglin continued to watch and wait for an answer. It was so close to feeling like an eternity when she did answer.

"I had suspected they were escapees…"

Another vague answer. But it was still a yes.

Maeglin looked back to the door without turning, "Why was I never told?"

"Why do you need to know?"

He looked at his mother, "It is so quiet here. More than I can stand for a normal person I think. Only you, Eöl, and I are the ones that speak. Does this not bother you?" He paused, and lowered his voice, "Are you not used to listening songs in the air, dancing, and laughter every day?"

Aredhel was still at the mention of her life before coming to Nan Elmoth. She sighed quietly, "Would it be better for silence to reign than to hear the whispers of torment, and songs of despair every day?"

Maeglin frowned and bowed his head, "You both seem experienced in this…shelter. But how are they here? Would they not have encountered others outside this forest? Would not someone help?"

Aredhel sighed again and stood up again. She walked towards the arched, dark wood window, looking out it, "Have I yet told you of Maedhros?"

The younger elf's ears perked slightly, "…Yes."

"…I suspect there is more behind people's dislike, hate perhaps, than just the oath."

"He hung from the mountainside by the wrist."

Aredhel smiled sadly at her smart boy, "…Yes, at the end of many years being inside that place; after suffering many things." Her breath caught, as she seemed stuck in a memory.

Maeglin let the words sunk in, "…You mean to say, our kindred mistrust him not only from that oath, but from being…"

"Yes."

Maeglin could not help but feel a little angry, his thoughts rivaling between what his father had said many times about the Noldor, and the better traits his mother spoke of. How could they be so…cold?

He could not help but admit Eöl was right: they were arrogant and unmerciful.

But not all the time…it could never be all the time.

Maeglin also had to admit to himself he really knew nothing about the world, having been in Nan Elmoth for much of his life, save for the few times he went to the dwarves' stronghold with his father.

He knew nothing of reality.

He did not understand this place.

He did not understand the people that were before he and his mother.

Including Eöl.

Aredhel pointed to the window, and Maeglin approached. He looked, and was again (for the umpteenth time this day/night) surprised. There were four of the servants, one of them being a guard. Berthedir was standing among them, wearing different garb from the sinister things he first came in. Speaking of said garb, Eöl was standing to the side holding them.

The elves watched the dark-elf. Eöl turned his head towards the medium sized brazier. It was lit. Within a few moments, he cast the dark garb into the fire. As the fabric burned, two of the maidens bowed their heads, the guard simply watched as if in a trance, as was Berthedir. Eöl looked to the new arrival.

Maeglin wondered if Eöl was telepathic to some level. They never spoke a word to each other, but they were communicating, somehow.

"You must think you father very hard…" Aredhel spoke softly without looking.

Maeglin did look.

"…he is not the best of parenting, I will admit that to you. But he…is not that dark as my people claim him to be. If they could see what he does here, with these poor souls…perhaps they could learn." She smiled softly, "From my limited interaction of those of the Teleri…Avari as it is, they have the basic traits that we all need."

Maeglin continued to look.

"They look out for each other, they are willing to stoop down for others. They do not look down on others…never boast about their high positions."

Maeglin bit his lip, then looked out the window again. The courtyard was clear of those who were there just a moment again.

"They are free to leave…"

Maeglin felt bitter at those words, finding it unfair. The roles seem to have been reversed. The thralls could leave if they wanted to…but he and his mother could not. Why was that so? They should have the same freedom as the servants do.

Unless…

Maeglin slowly looked at his mother, who in return just looked at him sadly. He shook his head, unsettled once again, and left the room. He approached the gate in haste, and on the outer side of the fence, he noticed only one guard was present. The one with the scarred eye.

The elf was looking out to the forest. One of the ones who were dead inside. Maeglin put himself in the elf's line of vision, standing before him. The elf's eye drifted towards his master's son, unblinking.

Maeglin swallowed at the look, whatever was under the mask, "…I am sorry." He said quietly.

The guard looked mildly confused, maybe not used to being spoken too. Maeglin did some relaxation in the ellon's brow.

The young elf shook his head and turned to go down the road, not sure of when he would show himself again or when Eöl would end up finding him and hauling him back…

…back to this house of thralls.