A/N: Fiiiiinally. Got chapter four up. I had to retype the whole thing since I cant transfer it from my old laptop to my new one. Now Id like to say a few things in reply to comments made. Please keep in mind that this is a FANFIC. I am well aware of who the Elven kings are, the Thalos Elves were my creation. Dur. And I know the details aren't perfect. In fact I'll tell you right now that the timeline will be horribly skewed later on. But I think I did an okay job and Im just trying to stay true to Tolkien, not rewrite him. And if you dont like the story I dont care. Dont read it. Sheesh...Oo And for those of you who are actually returning to see if Ive updated (and even for those who didnt but still left nice comments and read the story) thank you sooo much . Here's to you.

Chapter 4

The Gathered Forces

Maglor's Gap became threatened. Maedhros and his brother found themselves fighting off more and more Orc scouting parties. It came to the point where the Sindar Elves who hailed from Thalos had joined them in combat, pushing aside the grudge over the attack from Feanor's sons and the slaying of their old king. While the five other Sons of Feanor were busy defending their own lands, Maedhros called upon King Fingon for aid. His lifelong friend readily answered, and marched with a decent host of soldiers to Maglor's lands.

Thus the troops of Fingon, the Sons of Feanor, and the Thalos Elves were joined in a common cause. Fingon and Maedhros set up encampments by Maglor's lands, not far from the makeshift village of the Sindar Elves. Winter approached and the skies to the North near Angband grew dark, and the first snows reached Maglor's Gap. Cold winds from the Blue Mountains traveled to the Elven camps.

Maedhros stepped out of his tent into the snow. It was quiet in the camp and his breath rose in plumes into the freezing air. The snowfall had ceased for now, leaving an alabaster blanket over the lands. The skies were grey. Maedhros looked about, seeing scattered soldiers walking here and there and meager campfires were set up, their makers huddled about them. The sleek Elf began to walk, feet treading lightly upon the snow. He met Fingon as he exited his own tent. The dark-haired Elf smiled as his friend approached.

"Good morrow, cousin," said Fingon. Maedhros gave a nod in greeting.

"Let us hope it is," he said. Fingon's cheery disposition did not falter, however. He looked out over the camp as he put on his gloves and rubbed his hands together.

"Any sign of attack?"

Maedhros shook his head. "The night was quiet." Fingon nodded as they gazed around. "The Sindar Elves had some old friends send them more horses."

"Good, good," said Fingon. "There are never too many horses."

"Aye," Maedhros agreed. The two cousins began to walk together through the camp. Both Sindar and Noldor Elves were about, sharpening swords and knives for tattle, cooking a quick meal over a fire, talking quietly amongst themselves, and grooming their horses.

Fingon spoke after a while. "I hope the winter does not worsen," he said.

"It may yet help us. The Orcs are not as skilled in the snow as we are," Maedhros pointed out. Fingon shrugged as they walked, and after a while a familiar Elf approached them.

"Well, we meet again, Son of Feanor," said Tinuthiel. She was walking towards them, smiling. Fingon cast a glance to Maedhros, who offered a small smile and a dip of his head to Tinuthiel.

"So it seems, milady," he replied. Tinuthiel. She was walking towards them, smiling. "Fingon, this is Tinuthiel."

Fingon's face brightened. "Ah, a pleasure to meet you at last. I heard of the assistance you gave my cousin," said the king. "I was very grateful to hear it."

Maedhros set his jaw, weary of the incident and the worry of his kin. But Tinuthiel smiled pleasantly, bowing elegantly.

"The pleasure is mine, King Fingon," she replied. "And as I have said before, it was no trouble," The grey, bleak weather had assailed every soul in the region, and yet it failed to dim her beauty. She stood a golden figure against the harsh white of the snows, soft and fair.

"Well I must away," said Fingon, smiling to Maedhros and Tinuthiel. "I hope we meet again, my lady." He bowed courteously to her and then gave a nod to Maedhros. "And I shall see you shortly, I am sure, cousin."

Maedhros watched as Fingon took his leave, and he began to walk with Tinuthiel. She fell into an eloquent stride beside him, hands folded neatly before head. She was dressed warmly but simply.

"How is your leg these days?" she asked Maedhros, grinning at him sideways.

Maedhros tilted his head and raised his brow. "Fine, thanks to your kindness."

"I am glad to hear it," said the maiden lightly. Maedhros came again to his tent and went to Turanthir, who was standing in the snow quietly, covered by a thick blanket. Tinuthiel stood by the tall Elf warrior as he removed the blanket from his steed and began to brush the horse's flank. Turanthir snorted, sending a cloud of frosted breath into the frigid air.

"The soldiers have fought bravely," she mused softly. Maedhros continued to brush Turanthir's dark fur.

"I expect no less from fine Elves such as they," he responded. Tinuthiel watched him, the pleasant smile still playing upon her face. After a moment, she ran her fingers through the horse's mane and then took a few strands of it, beginning to form a small, quaint braid. Maedhros turned his impassive gaze to her hands as they began to craft, considering it for a moment. But he seemed to have decided a braid in his horse's man would do no harm, and so he continued his own work.

"How long have you been fighting in this war, friend?" Tinuthiel asked.

"Long enough. Since its dawn."

Tinuthiel nodded, and both Elves were focused on their work. "That is a long time. Do you ever weary of battle?"

Maedhros paused. "Are you always this persistent with questions?" he asked. Tinuthiel calmly met his gaze.

"I think you need someone to ask you questions."

"And you are my caretaker now?"

She shook her head, still smiling. "Nay. But you seem so quiet all the time." Maedhros shrugged. Tinuthiel finished the braid and tied it with a small thread. She patted Turanthir's neck and reached to stroke his velvety muzzle. The steed turned to sniff her hand and nudged it, seeking food. She smiled and looked back at Maedhros. The tall Elf opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of trumpets split the frozen air, which was so dry and cold it seemed as though the sudden sharp noise might shatter it. The Elves looked up and Maglor rode up to them, his brown horse's hooves kicking up the snow as it halted.

"Orcs coming from the northeast-near the forests!" he said urgently. Maedhros wasted no time and he lithely sprang onto Turanthir's back after removing the loose rope from around the steed's neck. The camp had sprung suddenly to action as the soldiers ran and rode to face the approaching enemy. Maglor turned and rode off, and Maedhros turned his mount and looked down at Tinuthiel.

"Get to safety," he said quickly.

"Be careful, friend," she said. Maedhros clicked his tongue and Turanthir took off in the snow, joining the fray. Tinuthiel turned to run back towards her people running through the crowd of soldiers.

Maedhros rode and caught up with Maglor, and the brothers were soon met by Fingon as he rode. They each called to them their armies and spread themselves out to meet a host of Orcs. The Sindar Elves joined them. The battle lasted until nightfall, and the Elven forces were victorious, but not with out loss. Maglor's second in command, a valiant Elf named Lorgedel, was slain as well as a close friend of Thrandolhir. But most of the soldiers returned to the camps, and there was a relief that spread through the region that they had withstood Morgoth's parties once again.

Tinuthiel was with her sister, and they waited tensely in Nimariel's home for the soldiers to arrive-hoping they would arrive. When at last through the window they say their kin returning through the grey winter they sighed happily, grasping each other's hands. When they saw Ciranthos their delight was lifted even higher, and they opened their doors to meet him. Nimariel ran to her husband and embraced him, and they found him hale. Ciranthos smiled warmly, holding his beloved tightly before kissing her brow and then reaching to hug Tinuthiel. And as the three reentered their home Tinuthiel looked out at the host of tired, returning soldiers, and she espied Maedhros from afar. He looked truly noble then, riding back upon the wings of victory and the safety of his troops and kin. He sat poised securely on the bare back of the mighty stallion, his fiery hair making him easily identifiable among the golden and dark crowns of the rest of the warriors. Tinuthiel smiled to himself, glad that he was safe, and then he went inside her sister's house and closed the door.

A/N: This was a useless chapter. I promise something better next. And omg we MIGHT be getting close to actually learning about Maecelofin since that IS my purpose for writing this...Oo