This is basically a rewrite of the concept I had years ago for 'Yes, I really, truly am a girl' because, lets face it, that was awful. I only keep it up to remind myself that I've improved. So, I'm trying to make it less... juvenile, less internally misogynistic and more enjoyable to read, despite being blatantly and unashamedly A/U-y.

Up and over. Moving swiftly (as they can), noiselessly – dark and unseen amidst the tapestry of roots and stunted shrubs too shaded to grow to full size. A rustling. But it was hunger driving them forward. That, and an acute, consuming fatigue. One had a deep wound; a gash, extending from collar to shoulder – a gory ruby ornament. The other limped, supported by the bleeding companion.

Up. Over. Moving swiftly – don't fall just yet.

"Ai!"

Two figures lay crumpled in a bush – suspended in the branches like china dolls. Ellyth? Silvery white hair had escaped the confines of a hood and… was that blood that beaded the spider's web, instead of morning dew?

"Edendir! Come – quickly!"

From behind a tree, the healer materialised.

"Helevegil?"

She pointed to the bush. "Alive?"

Kneeling down, and feeling the wrist of each, Edendir confirmed, "Yes – but very weak. If we do not bring them to the fortress, their fëar may depart by the end of the day."

"We cannot carry them that far, love."

"We can bring them to the hill – it isn't so far… "

"And up?"

Edendir didn't answer.

"Nearly dead, you say?"

"If we do not hurry, death is a certainty, Thalel."

"Will we inform his Lordship?"

Helevegil paused. "Not yet," she said. There was no time.

"Are they healing?"

Edendir was weary, but his wife's concern made him smile. "Yes. Slowly, but we will not loose them to Mandos yet."

"And do you know who they are?" Helevegil was too curious.

"Of the eldar, most likely – I believe them to have crossed by Helcaraxë. They have odd scars."

"Helcaraxë? Then perhaps Prince Fingon will know them?"

"Perhaps. Does Lord Maedhros know of his guests."

"Thalel has informed him. His approval, I am not sure of."

"His approval, you have," came a new, unmistakable voice. "I thank you for your services, Edendir – Helevegil, and…" He saw one of the comatose women. "You may leave your patients for now."

"But…" said Edendir. Helevegil stopped her husband with a frown. "They will not wake for… another day, at least."

"That is not a problem."

Helevegil dragged Edendir from the room.

In the ward, Maedhros Feanorion sat by the bed of a dark-haired, pale elleth. Head down, a hoarse whisper.

"You've come to haunt me, Netya."

A note on names:

I've edited and developed the two main OCs in YIRTAAG (what an awful title omfg) and I've changed their names, and in the case of Ëarilindë, her backstory.

Netya is a 'nickname' from Ëarmarillë's (originally Ëarilindë) epessë 'Netyaranel'