She'd slept too late.

From the sliver of light passing through the curtains, Lily could see that morning had swallowed the darkness.

Hurriedly, she ran her fingers through her mussed locks.

She still hadn't gotten used to the frigid nights of Amon Ereb, where the day's warmth disappeared at five in the evening and didn't reappear until eight the next day.

She shivered and crossed the cold, unheated room to the window. She yanked open the curtains, letting in the dull light. More than anything, Lily wished for a bright sunshine that could warm her soul, if not her body.

Using her fingernail, she scratched a circle in the frosted pane and caught the familiar glimpse of the hillside, mostly deserted. A small fox sniffed about the big tree. There were no sparrows - it was much too cold.

Months of sunshine had slowly morphed into winter. The trees had shed their leaves. Birds migrated east. Snow fell.

Lily's arm, though sore, had healed.

At the clomping of horse hooves on the hard-packed snow, Lily turned away and crossed the room. Nestariel and Arthion had probably been awake for eight hours, and were hard at work.

Feeling guilty, she exited her room. The second floor was empty, and her footsteps echoed as she made her way down the narrow passageway to the staircase.

Today she intended to inform Lord Maedhros of her plans to depart for the mountains. The elven lords frequently left the fortress for weeks at a time, yet the harsher weather kept them within the walls of Amon Ereb. Lily did not mind it in the least.

Maedhros, Maglor, Amras and Amrod brought life to the place.

The elder brothers she saw very little. They kept to the upper halls, heads bent deep within their maps and books and ale. The twins, however, became a consistent presence. Their favourite pastime, it seemed, was teasing the small Edain.

She stepped into the mess hall, and the acrid smell of burnt tea drifted towards her.

"There's the morning sun," Melieth paused while wiping a table, holding a dirty rag in midair.

"Oh no, Melieth. I'm most definitely not." She glanced around the near deserted hall. Only one elf was sitting beside the dying fire, his head bent over his books and his hair a dark shroud. "I'm more like a," she struggled to find the elvish word, "an avnedhor lotë. I like daylight and sunshine, both which seem to be rare right now." Afternoon flower.

"But you are a burst of sunshine this morning." The elven woman gave Lily a warm smile, one that soothed her spirit and chased away her worries.

"Why thank you, Melieth." She smiled back.

"If you give me a moment, I can convince Arthion to rustle up a plate of beans for you." The tall elleth resumed her efforts at cleaning the oilskin covering, her slender form wriggling in motion to the swirls of the rag. "They won't be warm, but they'll be filling enough."

"Don't trouble yourself for my sake." The thought of a heavy meal churned her stomach. "I'll be happy with a cup of tea, if there is any to spare."

Melieth stopped cleaning. Her eyes narrowed. "Tea? No, no. You must eat. You need more meat on your bones, girl. One gust of wind and you'll blow away. Don't you agree, Makalaurë?"

Lily glanced towards the longtable, only to discover that the elf was, in fact, Lord Maglor. Catching his gaze, he quickly turned back to his open book. Yet, the reddish tint creeping up his ears was evidence that he'd been paying more attention to her than his studies.

"I am sure the young fíriel would appreciate anything you offer," his mouth thinned into a bemused line, "especially since breakfast has been over for an hour and a half."

His long, dark hair was neatly combed, except for one errant strand that fell across his forehead. His eyes, a dark, stormy blue, looked withdrawn.

"Makalaurë Fëanorion." Melieth placed her hands on her hips. "You never minded when I snuck you pastries as a young boy. I think half the reason you loiter here is because you hope I'll feed you more."

The faint redness spread from his ears to his cheeks. He did not answer. Dipping his head, he scribbled something in his parchment, as if there were nothing more important to him.

Melieth turned to Lily, winking. "I'll bring you some tea. But how about a fresh, spiced pastry, too?"

She smiled. "Well, since you're in the habit of sneaking them."

The woman disappeared into the kitchen, and Lily sank down onto the nearest bench. Too late, she realised that she'd planted herself so that she was directly looking at Maglor. She fidgeted, but refrained from rudely repositioning herself altogether.

As if sensing her awkward discomfort, Maglor slowly lifted his eyes. For an eternity of a second, their gazes caught.

A spark lit his eyes, as if he were remembering their conversation all that time ago. She wanted to smile at the memory. Winë nigol, he'd teased. Little mouse. Composing herself, she drummed her fingers against the table and turned her gaze to the bare walls.

"Here you are." Melieth glided back into the room, holding a cup in one hand and a teapot in the other. She dropped the cup onto the table, and inside was the promised pastry. Lily lifted it out before Melieth poured hot brew into the cup.

"You're a darling." Lily lifted the cup. Out of habit, she blew on the hot liquid.

"Don't worry," Melieth hurried towards Maglor, sliding another pastry out of her apron pocket. "I have an extra for you too."

As the elflord reached for it, she pulled it back. "You know what you owe me first." She pointed at her cheek.

To Lily's surprise, Maglor grinned, leaned towards the woman and planted a kiss on the spot she'd touched. Melieth gave him the pastry, and patted his cheek. "You're a good boy, Macalaurë."

Lily smiled. He was certainly no boy. His tunic stretched across his shoulders and around his long arms. He possessed the strength of a warrior. She knew; she'd seen it first hand. The memory of him breaking down the door of her prison was nothing she'd soon forget.

She took a sip of her tea, only to find it was gritty and potent enough to choke a horse. Nearly dropping the cup onto the table, she spluttered into her hand.

One of Maglor's eyebrows shot up and his grin turned lopsided. There was something in his eyes, as if he knew from personal experience just how awful the brew was.

She swallowed the bitter mouthful and smiled back. A secret smile. One that gave her the sense that the elf had the potential to be a friend - despite how little she saw of him.

"Melieth makes the best pastries in all of Arda." He took a bite.

"You're only getting one," she waved her finger at him, "and no amount of flattery will get you more."

Still, Melieth beamed beneath his compliment. She pulled out the bench across from Lily and sidled in, accidentally bumping the table and causing tea to slosh out of Lily's cup. Perhaps, with enough jostling, there would be none left to drink.

When she met Maglor's gaze, his eyebrow quirked once more. Lily bit at her pastry and tried to stifle her smile.

"So, now that you're recovering," Melieth started, munching on a pastry, "and can converse easily, spare us all the gossip we've been waiting for." Her dark hair framed her face in disarray. Like Nestariel, she'd been up since the early hours of the morning and had already put in a hard day's work. "Tell me where you're from."

Lily knew such a conversation was coming. She placed her pastry onto the table. In this world, Men lived alongside elves and other strange creatures. She knew that. And yet, she'd never laid eyes on another human. What language did they speak? What cultural similarity did they share with her?

If she knew the answer, Melieth's question would not be so difficult.

"Well," she said, opting to keep as close to the truth as possible. "I came from the mountains. Lord Maglor rescued me."

Melieth finished her pastry and nodded for Lily to continue.

"I had been captured by dark creatures, and they…" Lily trailed off. "Well, you have seen what they did."

"And?"

"And what else is there to tell?"

Melieth's eyes searched hers. "Child, I am a thousand years old. I see more than with my eyes. Tell me about your kin, for I know little about the second born."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Maglor watching her shrewdly. "You say you come from the mountains of Ered Luin," he spoke up, "yet no Man has lived there since the days of Haleth."

Lily felt cornered. "Haleth?" She asked.

"Aye," Maglor said. "Haleth, from the tribe of Haladin."

Melieth smiled. "I heard she was a warrior. Our late Lord Caranthir had admired her greatly."

At the mention of Caranthir, Maglor stiffened. "Yes," he said lowly, "he said he'd never seen such great courage in the hearts of Men before."

"Ah, I miss that boy," Melieth murmured, "he was the spitting image of your father."

Lord Maglor was grim. "He was foolish and quick to anger."

"Yet you loved him as any brother should," said Melieth, her expression stern. She turned her gaze back towards Lily. "Tell me, do you have any siblings?"

"No, I am an only child," she looked at Melieth, "my mother died when I was little."

"Oh," she tutted, "you poor thing. What of your father?"

"He died recently, he was sick."

"He died from sickness?" Melieth looked appalled. "How awful. I heard tales of Edain dying from ailments, yet I never believed it to be true."

Lily did not know what to say to that. So she kept silent.

"So you have no family?" Melieth pressed. "No husband or children of your own?"

"I…" She felt suddenly hollow. Melieth looked at her with such pity, such sorrow, that she almost couldn't bear it. "I'm not married."

"Then it is by no chance that Macalaurë brought you here." She reached across the table and squeezed Lily's hand. "It is not good for a girl to be unprotected and alone. Not in times like these."

Lily saw Maglor suddenly snap his book shut. He stood to his feet. "That is something I wished to speak with you about, firíel."

Melieth looked annoyed at his interruption. "Then say it quickly, for I wish to continue our conversation."

Maglor was silent. He stared down at the she-elf, his eyes narrowing. "It is something of a private matter."

"Private?" She glanced at the two of them.

"Yes. I'm sure you know what the word means."

Melieth glared up at him. "Don't be smart with me, boy. I give you enough indulgences as it is." Despite her chiding, she stood to her feet. She smiled down at Lily. "Join us in the kitchens later, won't you, dearest? We need your helping hand."

"Of course, Melieth," Lily acquiesced. She watched the woman go.

Within the silence of the hall, she looked up at Maglor. His dark eyes watched her in contemplation.

Fearing further awkwardness, she beckoned towards the bench. "Won't you sit, my lord?"

"No."

"Oh."

He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I only meant that it will not take long. I wish to ask about your plans. When the winter passes, do you intend to return to your people?"

"I," she began, "yes. Actually, I wished to speak about that with Lord Maedhros."

The elf-lord nodded. "Of course. Right."

"But it makes no difference if I spoke with you," she added quickly.

"Is that so?" his lips quirked into a small smile. "Let me say this then, my lady. When spring arrives, and the road is safe, I will accompany to your kin."

That wasn't what she was hoping to hear. "Oh."

"For I also wish to meet the Men who've survived for so long in orc-infested mountains." His eyes twinkled as he said so. "If I have your permission, of course."

"I -" Lily stuttered, "absolutely, my lord. You are welcome to meet them." She thought of her Aunt Agnes' face and held back a laugh. "I'm not so sure they will want to meet you, however."

"Really?"

"Really."

He tilted his head in amusement. "Why so?"

"For starters, they don't like…" She eyed his devastatingly handsome features, "they don't trust clean shaven men."

"Ah," he grinned. "Are they dwarves, by any chance?"

Lily ignored his playful jab, continuing. " And they don't like men who call their women 'mice."

He laughed, and Lily thought it the most loveliest sound she'd ever heard. Focusing herself, she continued, "they are also not fond of long hair and they are deathly afraid of tall people."

"I am sure they can make an allowance on my behalf. I did save your life, little mouse."

She narrowed her eyes at his cheekiness. "Don't be so sure of yourself."

"No," he agreed, "I wouldn't dream to be. It takes a great fool to be that confident." He watched her, his eyes wandering languidly over her features. "I confess, I'm only a great fool majority of the time."

"Like now?"

He grinned down at her. "You have quite the tongue, Lily."

"Thank you," she said. His eyes sparkled. "You should be careful who you use it against. My family is not known for their dulcet nature."

"No, for your younger brothers love to torment me."

He laughed once more. She smiled along with him. "Will you walk with me for a while?" He asked.

Who was she to refuse? She owed him her life. "If it pleases you, my Lord."

He hummed. "Yes, it would please me greatly. But just for a while," he held out his arm as she stood, "I can only bear looking at you for so long."

Lily let out a sharp laugh. Unbelievable! "Did you just call me ugly?"

Maglor smiled, and it vaguely reminded her of Amras. "I said no such thing, firíel."

She smacked his arm lightly, "you truly are an awful creature."

"Despite your insults, I think you like me very much."

Lily glanced up at him as they walked. "I think you have a very big head, my lord."

"Rubbish," he teased, smiling down at her, "my head is as big as any other mans'."

Maglor brought her to the watchtower. It was protected from the harsh elements by a high-domed roof and an iron railing. It overlooked the stronghold and the beautiful, surrounding plains. In the distance, she could vaguely see the beginnings of a forest.

She pointed at it. "What is that place?"

Maglor followed her finger. "Ossiriand," he replied, "wild country. Those forests hold plenty of deer. My brother, Maedhros, frequents it often." He stretched his hand out to the far left. "Over there lies the river Gelion. It travels south from Lake Helevorn to the sea. In the summer, the water is lovely to swim in."

"I imagine so." She thought of dipping her feet into the cool stream. "I would like to go there, one day."

"Perhaps you shall."

Lily glanced up at him, and saw that his eyes were not fixated on the scenery, but on her. She felt strangely light-headed. Turning away, she pointed east, to the snow-covered hills on the horizon. "And what is that area known as?"

"Andram. Those hills travel east towards Nargothrond and Doriath."

Lily had heard those words briefly mentioned in passing. "What are those places?" She asked.

He seemed shocked at her words. "You have not heard of Doriath?" Lily felt her heartbeat race; was it a well-known part of Beleriand? He eyed her, almost in suspicion.

"What an isolated life you must live," he eventually murmured. "Doriath is the home of the Sindar elves. Its forests were once protected by the Girdle of Melian. Menegroth was once the mighty capital."

"What happened there?"

There was silence. Maglor did not answer. Tearing her eyes from the hills, she looked up at him. His gaze was empty, transfixed on some distant place to which his mind escaped.

"My lord?"

"I -" he began, "a terrible thing, firíel." Grasping the rails of the balcony, he leant his weight on his arms. Lily watched. There was a strange, hollowness about him that she'd never even noticed until now.

It looked, in that moment, like Maglor was trying to carry a burden upon his shoulders, and the weight was slowly killing him.

His burden was a desecration. To whom, to what, she didn't know. She didn't ask. She could feel it - it permeated from him like a foul stench.

"Will you tell me what took place?" Lily asked once more.

His voice was dull. "My younger brothers - Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir, were slain." Lily felt her heart drop. Oh . "It was by our own doing," he continued, his voice strained. "We sought for something we are no longer worthy of."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She knew what loss felt like. Her heart went out to him.

"What's done is done, firíel," he said, without looking at her. "Life continues onwards, whether we wish it or not."

She didn't reply.

"Come," he said, "let us go back. Your kitchen comrades await you."

She followed him back down the hatch. She was glad to leave the cold.