The star came when they were almost back to Himring. Elros was strapped to a grey horse, since he could not walk. Elrond was walking beside him. Suddenly, the latter whispered a single word, and the horse stopped still. Elrond gripped Elros' shoulder and cradled his chin gently, lifting his head. His brother stared towards the horizon and then went rigid, eyes widening in shock.

Maglor came running. "What is it?" he asked, reaching to take Elros in his arms and fearing the worst.

But the boy pulled away and pushed himself up with his hands. He turned the horse's head to face the west and sat up straight, tall and erect, black hair streaming behind him. "Alive!" he crowed, flinging out his arms. "She's alive! She is coming back to us!"

Elrond's lips had twisted into a wan smile. "I believe it is our father," the thoughtful boy murmured. "She has found him. Yes, they are alive, gwanur."

Only then did Maglor look away from the boys, and so he was the last of the host of the Noldor to see the fiery speck of bluish-white light on the horizon, the news of which had already flown from lip to lip all through the company. Murmurs and cries of wonder and alarm drifted upwards in the twilight. Some raised their swords.

In the shadows of rocks and copses, the skulking minions of the dark powers heard their fearless cries and paused. Red eyes turned westwards and were afraid. The menace of their presence lifted from the Elves' hearts, for the pursuit melted away when they continued onward.

A little while later, Maedhros came striding towards the trio. "Surely that is a Silmaril that shines now in the West?" he said, not meeting the twins' keen eyes.

Elrond kept his gaze fixed upon the star. Elros turned on his mount's back and looked at Maedhros and Maglor expectantly with something that was not quite hate; his heart was greater than that, but not above pride.

"If it be truly the Silmaril which we saw cast into the sea," Maglor said slowly, painfully aware of the boys watching and listening to his every word, "then let us be glad; for its glory is seen now by many, and is yet secure from all evil."* He glanced at his own hands.

"A feast," Elros said suddenly. "We should have a feast to celebrate! For a Silmaril is restored to all Elves and Men, and the Sons of Fëanor, who may gaze upon it freely whenever they wish. That has not happened since this Age began."

Maedhros had not spent as much time with them as had his brother, but he was neither hard-hearted nor close-minded. "No, it has not," he said gravely. "Very well. We will halt here at the eaves of Nan Elmoth and hold a celebration, the Mereth e-Gîl."

"Gîl-Estel," Elrond whispered. "The star of hope."

"Maglor, will you break bread with me?" Elros asked impulsively, a grin lighting up his gaunt face. "For I am glad. It seems that there is no use seeking my parents in the Halls of Mandos quite yet."

*(Maedhros' and Maglor's exchange from the Silmarillion)