Maedhros walked away as quickly as he dared. He needed air. Desperately. Since the episode that had occurred two hours ago, he'd been finding it harder and harder to breathe. He suddenly found himself running. Faster, faster, blinking away tears as he sprinted along. Thankfully, his panic attacks didn't happen as frequently as one would think. He crashed through the door, the cool autumn air nipping at his nose and cheeks, as he flew to the ramparts, leaning against them heavily, gasping for breath.

His constricted lungs expanded as he drank in the fresh air. Maedhros could almost feel his tense muscles relaxing as his air take increased. After a few minutes, he looked up and gazed in the general direction of Angband.

"It's almost ironic," Nelyafinwë thought to himself with a rueful smirk, although his eyes still held a level of sadness "I had Himring built in this direction with the intention of intimidating Moringotto. Only, the tactic is a double bladed sword. Every time I look over at Angband, all I can think about is… is…" He swiftly turned away. Nerdanal had always told him that if someone clung to the past, and refused to move on, they'd never be able to fully live the future.

"However," He thought to himself as he bit his lip, doing his very best to fight back the painful memories "it's hard to forget thralldom…" for some reason, the harder he fought against the pain, the more intense and real it seemed to become. He could almost feel the whips, the rods, the knives, and every other instrument of tourture that had been used during his stay at Angband. However, the physical tourture hadn't been the worst of it… it had been when he was forced to watch- he raced back to the ramparts, leaning on them once again, trying to calm his galloping heart and churning stomach. Maedhros ran his one hand down his face, as if he were trying to wipe away the memories, as he arched his back slightly when he could've sworn he'd felt the cursed lash all over again. He'd seen too much pain there. Not just his own, however. There'd been so many other unfortunate wretches also suffered slavery under that monster… too many…

The eldest son of Fëanor slammed his one remaining hand against the old grey stone, as his anger got the best of him. He once again looked up at the iron hell where he'd been a prisoner for so long.

"I hate you!" He hissed, his eyes blazing. "You sit there all day, hiding from the light, although you coveted, and stole gems of light. You do nothing for yourself, and instead force slaves to do it for you. And yet…" his voice cracked "you still consider yourself above everyone else, when you aren't worthy enough to lick the dirt and blood off their feet, you coward!" His voice had grown to a furious yell as long-overdue tears began to stream down his cheeks. "And I'll swear to you now…" he paused to catch his breath as the look in his eyes grew to an intense defiance "as long as I'm breathing, I will do everything in my power to keep others from living in that pit you call a palace, even if I have to wage war on you… you will never take another person into thralldom." As soon as the words came out, Maedhros felt as though an anvil had been taken off his shoulders. He suddenly realized just how long he'd kept that bottled up inside of himself.

Elrond watched the scene with wide eyes from where he was hiding behind the partially open door. He knew about the attacks Maedhros had led on parties of slave traders trading elven slaves between Morgoth and Easterlings. In fact, there had been at least five attacks during the time the twins had lived at Himring. The last one he remembered clearly, as it had happened about two weeks ago…

Two weeks prior...

The cold rain beat down on the window panes, making the view outside blurry. Not that the twins were looking outside anyways. Elros was sprawled out on the carpet, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Elrond, who was also lying on the floor, half-heartedly thumbed through the pages of a dusty old book that he'd read about three times already. Maglor sat in front of the fire with his harp, several pieces of paper, a pen, and a worried expression on his face as he periodically glanced out the window, while he continued to place notes on the staff.

"Maglor?"

"Hm?" Maglor responded, startled out of his stupor.

"What's wrong?" Elros asked as he rolled over onto his stomach. Maglor sighed.

"Maedhros should've been back by now." He muttered. The twins suddenly realized that they had not seen their other captor all day.

"How long has he been gone?" Elrond asked.

"As of now, nearly ten hours." As if on cue, the sound of an elvish horn reached their ears. All three of them raced out of the room. From the windows lining the corridor, Maglor could see his brother and his troop clearly… followed closely by a rather angry mob of orcs and easterlings. He put on an extra burst of speed, the loud distress call ringing in his ears.

"I'm not losing him again!" He thought to himself frantically as he raced onward, tripping over his robes every now and then. Although he would never say it aloud, Maglor wasn't exactly too keen on the raids Maedhros would lead. It wasn't that he didn't want the poor souls to be freed, Valar, no. It was that every time his brother went out to free others, he risked being captured himself.

"I don't think I'd be able to cope if he had to suffer under that demon again…" Maglor swiftly found himself at the door, little footsteps following closely. He turned.

"The two of you are going to stay here."

"But we want-" Elros began, before Maglor quickly silenced him.

"No ifs, ands, or buts." He reprimanded gently. "You're both going to stay where it's safe." He raced out the door. Soldiers were racing to and fro, shouting orders as they tried to get themselves organized. He ran over to the ramparts, where the archers were already gathering. His brother's troop galloped as speedily as possible, trying to reach the gates before it was too late. Most of the riders had a freed slave with them in the saddle. Maedhros rode in the rear of the troop, as any good Commander would, making sure his men got to safety before he worried about himself. Maglor's heart skipped a beat as an arrow flew past his brother's head, narrowly missing him. He suddenly noticed that his brother had a small bundle pressed up against his body, which he was fiercely defending.

He watched the company carefully, slowly raising his hand.

Wait…

Wait…

"FIRE!" He shouted, bringing his hand down abruptly. The volley of arrows flew through the air, humming like a hoard of angry hornets. Maedhros gazed upwards, and quickly flattened himself to his mount, bodily shielding the tiny something, as arrows peppered the muddy ground just a few feet behind him, laying the foes low. "Raise the gates!" Maglor yelled, as he practically fell down the stairs. The large iron gates creaked open, horses and riders rushing into the safety of Himring's walls, before closing just mere seconds after his brother had rode in. He swiftly made his way over.

Maedhros dismounted, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the tattered old blanket that was wrapped around the trembling bundle he was holding, tucked between his chest and his right arm.

"Poor little thing." He thought to himself. "It's an absolute miracle that-"

"Nelyo!" Maglor cried as he skidded to a halt. "Are you alr- you're hurt!"

"It's alright, Maglor! It's only a small cut. One of the orcs had a whip on him." Maglor paled, as he tentatively reached out to the angry looking cut on his brother's arm. "It's alright though, it only nicked me." Maedhros added quickly. The thing in the blanket suddenly squirmed closer to Maedhros, as if trying to get away from Maglor.

"Maitimo, what is…?"

"Don't." Nelyafinwë breathed as he lightly pushed his brother's hand away from the blanket. "I'll do it." He looked from side to side, making sure they weren't being watched. Gently, he pulled back a corner of the blanket, murmuring kind words in Sindarin all the while. An involuntary gasp escaped Maglor as he caught sight of what his brother was holding.

"Sweet Estë above…"

Elrond quietly crept towards the Fëanorian. Maedhros didn't seem to hear him. Elrond was stunned. He didn't think it was possible to sneak up on Maedhros. The warrior usually seemed to sense everything that was going on around him. The child was even more shocked to find that he was able to stand right next to Maedhros without him noticing. The redhead looked as though he was in a completely different world. Elrond looked in the direction his captor was looking in. A red light lingered above a mountain in the distance.

"Is that the sun? Nay, it cannot be. It's too early… that light is too red as well… like blood…" Elrond wasn't sure why, but whatever that place was, it felt evil. He took a few steps back… and bumped right into Maedhros. They both yelped aloud in surprise.

"Elrond?!" He gaped, looking at the child in absolute befuddlement. "What are you doing out of bed? It's late!"

"I couldn't sleep." Elrond responded, echoing the same words he had spoken two hours ago. Maedhros' features softened. A small, gentle smile graced his features, and for a minute, he looked like Maitimo again.

"Neither could I."

They leaned against the ramparts together, side by side, although Elrond had to stand on his toes in order to see the world beyond Himring. It was completely silent. Just the two of them. It should've been calming. But Maedhros' inner torment seemed to be radiating off him, which caused Elrond to squirm, which resulted in Maedhros fidgeting as he sensed the child's anxiety. It was an endless cycle, made worse by the sight of Angband looming in the distance like a silent menace.

"What is that place?" Elrond asked, his voice barely audible.

"A place I hope you'll never have to see up close." Maedhros replied after a few minutes of uncertain silence. "It's evil there. There isn't even the slightest bit of light."

"It's so close..." Elrond barely managed to whisper as he instinctively moved closer to his captor. The warrior could feel his stone barrier breaking down a little as he noticed the child unconsciously trying to hide in his shadow. His younger brothers had done the same thing when they were scared as children: they'd press up against their eldest brother, and try to hide. Maedhros didn't know why, but for some reason, the long-dormant older-brother-instinct suddenly kicked in.

"Listen," he began as he knelt down beside his charge "as long as I can, I'll protect you and Elros, understand?" He gave the peredhel's shoulder a gentle, but firm squeeze, as though he was lending Elrond some of his strength. "Don't be afraid."

"What are you saying to him?!" His mind screamed. "Wake up, stupid! Don't make promises you can't keep!" Could he protect the children? He knew he was a terrible brother. With the exception of Maglor, all of his brothers were dead, a factor that made him even more determined to keep the twins alive. "But what of Morgoth?" The voice in his head taunted. "You could hardly protect yourself against him! Do you really think you can protect them if you couldn't protect yourself?! Just take a look at yourself. The only thing you'll succeed in doing is allowing him to break them as much as he broke you." For a minute, Maedhros started to reconsider everything he'd said, before he stopped himself.

"I can protect them." He thought to himself as he found himself looking into a pair of trusting grey eyes. "If I can't protect myself and them, then I'll just protect the children. After all, what more can they do to me?" Had he been alone in his bedchamber, Maedhros probably would've laughed at the absurdity of his own thoughts. The enemy could do plenty more to him, he knew that. "But if the worst comes to worst, and we are attacked… I could just hand myself over. Chances are, Morgoth and his band of idiots will want to finish what they started." He could feel his heart hammering in his chest at the thought of going through hell again. "I might be able to arrange some sort of trade: myself for my people's safety." Elrond still looked at him, trusting and innocent. "No-one will come to my rescue this time, if it happens. But that's alright. As long as everyone else is safe. Besides," he thought to himself bitterly "it's exactly what a kinslayer like me deserves."

Nelyo pulled himself back to his feet with a small sigh, unable to look at the child. Valar, he didn't understand how a mere child, who had witnessed death and destruction done by the hands of his captors, could still look so innocent.

"By rights, he should hate me. Dammit, why does he seem to care about me? Or at least pretends to care? I've brought him nothing but pain."

"You really should go to bed." He said, trying to get Elrond to go to bed before the stone walls surrounding his heart broke down completely.

"How is he getting this reaction out of me?! I'm a murderer, a kinslayer, a traitor, and the one who nearly killed his mother! Why am I falling apart for him? He brushed against my barriers, and did the work of a catapult." The child, however, would not leave. He just simply pulled an old crate over and stood on top of it so that he could see over the wall. The wind swirled around, gently blowing a few locks of Maedhros' red hair out of his face, revealing harsh scarring on his right cheek. Elrond stared, intrigued. He'd seen it before, but this was the first time he'd gotten a good look at the injury. The cuts looked like they had been placed there intentionally, and at the same time, as they all appeared to be connected in some way or another. It was a pattern. A horrific, ugly pattern that seemed to have it's own story. But then again, didn't every scar?

"What's that?" He asked. Maedhros turned to face him, making the rest of the pattern visible.

"What's what?"

"This." Elrond replied as he reached up and lightly brushed his fingertips against the raised marks that marred the warrior's once-fair features. Maedhros froze. It had been so long since he'd felt a gentle hand. The rest of his protective barrier crumbled.

"It… it's the rebel rouser's mark." He said quickly as he looked away, unwilling to allow Elrond to see his weakness. "It's given to those who dare to try and defy the enemy through rebellion. That is, it's given to those who were caught attempting to revolt."

"So… you tried to escape?" Elrond asked softly, trying to picture what could've made the terrifying scar.

"Yes." Maedhros murmured softly, his mind going back to the torment he'd been through.

"Did you ever try again?" Maedhros fell silent.

"No." He answered finally. "I never got the chance." He closed his eyes for a minute, and only saw the horrors…

He staggered towards the cramped cage he shared with some of the others, half-led-half-dragged by at least six orcs. Normally, he would've been fighting them as though he were some savage animal, but given the circumstances, he just allowed them to escort him back to the cell. His bloody back and shoulders throbbed mercilessly from the recent flogging he'd received, and the freshly cut marks on his face stung like hellfire. It was taking all the strength his taxed body had to keep himself from passing out. Before he knew what was happening, the cell door had been opened, and he was unceremoniously thrown inside. He stumbled, trying to slow himself, but the momentum was too much. He crashed into a wall, struck his head, and collapsed to the floor. He could faintly hear the harsh laughter of the orcs as the darkness threatening to claim him finally took him into it's sweet embrace, calming the wild thoughts racing through his head.

It failed. He failed. The rebellion he'd been planning for so long had come to a sudden halt, falling to pieces as it did so. Someone had ratted him out. Part of him was furious at the betrayal, though part of him understood; they'd been scared. A few hours later, he awoke. He didn't know why, but for some reason there was a dark sense of foreboding that he just couldn't shake.

A few minutes later, the orcs came back, spotted him immediately, and yanked him to his feet. His fiery colored hair and freakish height didn't exactly help him blend into the crowd of dark-haired Avari. He found himself being led on a forced march through the winding tunnels, and then up a flight of stairs. They seemed to go on forever. Finally, they reached the top, where there was a view of the outdoors he'd been pining for for over thirty years, and a maia. Maedhros noticed a long chain on the ground, but chose to ignore it. He already knew his crime, and the punishment he was most likely going to recieve.

"So," he stated, boldly looking Sauron in the eye "you and your damned master have finally had enough of me, hm?" The maia said nothing, so Maitimo continued. "It must be rather embarrassing, knowing that you've kept a prisoner for over thirty years, whom you haven't been able to get any information from." Despite the danger he was in, Maedhros couldn't help feeling a sense of triumph as he thought back to everything he'd gone through during his stay at Angband. When he'd first been brought there, they hadn't thrown him down into the pits with the slaves, oh no. They'd keep him by himself to suffer through endless torture sessions. There'd been hell to pay when they'd discovered that he'd been giving them false information. That's when he'd ended up with the slaves. They'd thought that humiliation would be the key to breaking him after methods of pain had failed. So he, the heir to a throne, had ended up as a common slave. And now, he was facing his execution. They'd throw him off the cliff face, he'd plummet to the earth below, his body would be broken against the rocks, and he'd die. A wild smile made its way across his face, showing his bloodstained teeth. They'd tried to make him abandon his people and they'd failed. They'd take his life, but they would not take his pride, nor break his spirit.

"It's almost sweet to think that you would think that. Perhaps you're more naive than I thought." The elf's smile faltered as the maia stared at him coldly with a sinister smile as the words echoed throughout the room, although his lips had never moved. Before Nelyafinwë could even attempt to imagine what horrors could await him, the maia leapt forward at an alarming speed, chain in hand, and clamped it down on his wrist. He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out as the maia's touch seemed to burn his skin. The orcs' rough hands were suddenly all over, trying to shove him backwards. He instinctively put up a struggle, pushing back against the wall of orcs. Before he even knew what happened, Maedhros felt the loose ground crumble beneath his feet, and found himself falling.

The wind whistled past his ears, blowing his long, matted locks this way and that, and sucked all the air out of his lungs. He couldn't scream, even if he wanted to. A hoarse, agonized yell managed to rip out of his throat as he came to an abrupt halt, his right shoulder harshly dislocating as he did so. He could faintly hear the orcs laughing, just thirty feet above him. He then heard the door above close. He dug his heels into the rock, trying to push himself upward, and alleviate some of the pain in his shoulder.

"So this is how it ends." He thought to himself as he listened to the wind howl. "I'm going to die of thirst and starvation." He grimaced as he looked at the bruises already forming on his shoulder. "That is, if my arm doesn't pop out of its socket first." He looked away from the trees and freedom he could see faintly in the distance, taunting him. A bird flew above him to the lands beyond. He could only assume that Manwë was mocking him from the peaks of Taniquetil, far away in Valinor.

"Maedhros?" The Fëanorian snapped out of his living nightmare at the sound of the child's voice.

"Aye?"

"Does… does it hurt?" Elrond asked, his voice almost as quiet as a mourning dove's cry, as he looked up at his kidnapper, his grey eyes soft and concerned. Maitimo's heart melted.

"No. Not anymore."

"What do you mean, 'you never got the chance'? Nana always used to say that everyone deserves a second chance." Maedhros couldn't help inwardly smirking at the child's remark.

"I don't think I was on Elwing's list of 'people who deserve another chance' though." He thought to himself .

"Maedhros? Why didn't you get another chance?" Elrond pressed further. A flash of pain crossed the giant's face. To the child, it almost seemed like a part of his captor was still in Angband, suffering away. "Perhaps part of him is still hurting..." He thought to himself.

"That's not a story for now." Maitimo finally responded with a shuddery breath. "Maybe when you're older." So Elrond asked no more questions. They stood together in silence, watching the world outside the walls of Himring. An owl hooted somewhere in the distant woods beyond, quietly breaking the serenity. Another question tugged at the elfling's mind.

"Does anyone else have it? The mark, I mean."

Silence.

"There are most likely others out there who bear the mark, but I only ever knew of one other besides me." Maedhros answered finally after some contemplation. "But he's been dead for some time."

"Who had it?" Elrond whispered, awed that there were people brave enough to defy the dark one himself, and that he stood in the presence of one of those individuals.

"How much do you know of Gondolin?"

Elrond blinked. Why had the son of Fëanor so suddenly changed the subject?

"Not too much." He admitted. "Nana never taught us about that because she said Ada would when he came back because he was from Gondolin." He didn't notice Maedhros' wince at the part of "Ada would when he came back". The son of Fëanor didn't want to tell the child that Eärendil most likely would never have returned for his family, even before the twins were taken hostage.

"There were twelve houses of Gondolin." Maedhros murmured quietly. "Each one ruled by a Lord. One of the houses was ruled by my half-cousin." He hesitated, and decided against saying Turgon's name. Chances were, Elrond knew of his Great-Grandfather. It would be too much of a shock for the youngster to know that he and his kidnapper were, ironically, distantly related. "He requested that I travel to Gondolin for a meeting to discuss peace terms and other such matters."

"But Nana said that no-one could leave Gondolin! At least, that's what my Great-Grandfather told Eöl."

"I swore an oath when I arrived at the city. The location of Gondolin is a secret I'll carry to my grave. Anyhow, after a few hours, my cousin introduced me to the other Lords of Gondolin..."

The dining hall was stuffy. Maedhros couldn't tell if it was just him, or the atmosphere. Everyone was silent. Turgon sat at the head of the table, looking just as, if not more, imposing than Fëanor. Though Maedhros knew better. It wasn't Turgon's presence that was causing the unnatural silence.

It was his.

He lightly fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. For once, he looked somewhat regal. He never wore his current outfit at Himring. His trousers and boots were black, his tunic was of a dark red fabric embroidered with gold thread, and a thin, humble circlet of beaten copper adorned his brow. He'd also managed to tame his hair, and tie it half up.

He wasn't one for bragging, but he'd gotten ready in record time too.

Finally, the food was brought out. Maedhros sighed in relief. Perhaps the food would attract more attention than he. A plate was placed in front of him. A portion of uncut meat sat upon it. Maedhros bit his lip a little. He could cut his own food, but it wasn't exactly very mannerly.

"Does something trouble you, cousin?" Turgon asked. Although he was acting like a courteous host, the Fëanorain could detect a slightly condescending undertone. Turgon hadn't asked him to come to Gondolin because he liked him, he'd asked out of urgency. He knew his cousin well enough to know that it was a decision made out of desperation, nothing more.

"No." He replied quietly. This was Turgon's grounds. If he said anything even slightly offensive, he was heavily outnumbered. Turgon had requested that his cousin's guards stay outside of the city. Maedhros didn't expect foul play. Although Turgon didn't like him, they were still cousins.

Maedhros jabbed the steak with his fork, stood up, leaned lightly against the utensil, the end of the fork digging into his ribcage, placed his stump atop it for extra support, grabbed the knife with his hand, and started cutting. He could feel stares from all directions. He inwardly scoffed. He'd learned to adapt to his handicap, but making those adaptations look fancy was not on his list of priorities. If it was effective, he left it at that. A piece of meat fell off his plate and onto the table cloth. He swiftly retrieved it, leaving a red mark on the white tablecloth; a drop of blood against pale skin. He could see Turgon glaring at him coldly out of the corner of his eye. He glanced in front of him. Idril, who sat directly across from him. She was giving her father a disapproving look, and then mouthed an apology to her uncle. He gave a slight nod to show that he saw. He happened to be one of her favorite uncles during her childhood. She loved heights, so his shoulders were the perfect perch.

He finished cutting. Thanks to the stares, his handiwork was sloppy.

He sat back down, praying that he'd be ignored. Thankfully, everyone seemed to settle down, and just enjoy their meal. He took the chance to look around him. The elf sitting to his right was obviously of Vanyan descent. His braided golden locks spilled over his shoulders, and his greenish-blue eyes held a youthful light. Across from the vanya sat a blue-clad noldo with dark hair and grey eyes. He allowed his gaze to linger on each and every lord. They had all stopped paying attention to him. Now that the meat cutting facaiso was over, they were all acting normally; chatting, laughing, and teasing one another. Maedhros could remember happier times when he and his brothers used to act like that at the table, back on Valinor. It all sent a sharp pang to his fëa. He suddenly noticed another Lord of Gondolin towards the end of the table. He obviously had little time to clean himself up before coming to the dining hall. His clothes had been put on in a somewhat hurried manner, made evident by the wrinkles. There were faded smudges on his face, as though he'd tried to remove them with a cloth rather than washing his face. His reddish brown hair wasn't much better. It was tied back in a disheveled ponytail. As far as Maedhros could tell, he was young. One-hundred and fifty years of age at the most. The young elf looked up. An old scar raced across his left cheek, starting at his cheekbone and ending at his sharp jawline. Their eyes locked. His eyes were brown.

He paled as he saw the scars marring the right side of Maedhros' face. Within a few minutes after looking away, the young Lord quietly asked to be excused from the table. Normally, Maedhros would've thought that he scared the elf away, but he had a feeling that that wasn't the reason. Turgon gave a sympathetic nod, and looked back down at his food. It was strange to see Turgon acting like that. Maedhros tried to focus on his food. It didn't work.

"May I be excused from the table, my liege? I-I'd like to retire."

"Very well." Turgon replied after some hesitation at the thought of his unruly cousin wandering the halls of his city. "Forgive me for keeping you this long, cousin, you must be exhausted after your trip." Maedhros smiled slightly. For a few seconds, Turgon had acted like the elf he'd known in Valinor.

"Thank you, cousin. I hope our counsel tomorrow goes well." Turgon nodded with a small smile.

"I do as well. Do you remember where your chambers are?"

"Aye. I'll take my leave now."

Maedhros quietly left, and the air in the dining hall became much lighter. Every hallway he walked down was deserted. Maedhros could only assume that he was being avoided. He suddenly heard voices…

"King's cousin… kinslayer..."

"... Fingon… the bastard should've been left to die in Angband…"

Maedhros could feel his blood broiling.

They were right.

He never deserved to be rescued.

"Stop it." a new voice cut through their cruel laughter. Maedhros was stunned. He never thought he'd hear someone defending him. Particularly in Gondolin. "You have no idea what it's like to be there." the Fëanorian crept towards the source of the sound.

"Our apologies Lord R-"

"Don't say you're sorry unless you mean it! And I'm not the one you should be apologizing to! A kinslayer he may be, but our kin nonetheless."

Somebody was slammed into the wall.

"How could you still see him as kin?! He killed our own!"

Maedhros gaped as he caught sight of them. Two civilians had a young elf pinned against the wall.

The young Lord from earlier.

"Why should we listen to you about the Fëanorian? Your opinion is biased because you spent some time as Moringotto's plaything as well!" one of the civilians snarled

Maedhros felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. The young elf had left not because he was afraid, but because the mere sight of the rebel rouser's mark had brought back unwanted memories. He knew what it was and what it meant.

"The Valar created him, same as you and I, so he's not inherently evil!"

"Liar! The Sindar were right! Moringotto releases prisoners to spy on us!" Before anything else could cross Maedhros' mind, one of the civilians had a knife.

"You both should've died in that pit! You both probably betrayed our people! What did you do, Demon? Give him the location of Gondolin?!" the steel weapon gleamed as it was raised. The young elf tensed.

"STOP IT!" Maedhros shouted as he darted out of his hiding place, and knocked the knife away from the civilian. Both of them paled as they looked at the Fëanorian towering above them. They immediately released the young Lord, turned on their heels, and ran.

"Thank you." the young elf sighed.

"Are you alright?"

"I believe so. Even if I'm not, it's nothing I can't handle."

"I must thank you as well."

"For what?" the young elf asked as he cocked his head to the side slightly as he looked up at the Fëanorian.

"For standing up for me."

"You… you heard all of that?"

"Aye." Maedhros replied with a small, sympathetic smile. "You're a survivor as well?" the young elf closed his eyes.

"Aye… there's more people in Gondolin like those pair of scumbags, just to warn you. You would've thought that all of Gondolin was used to freed slaves by now."

"What do you mean?"

"The majority of my house consists of escapees." Maedhros was stunned. "They technically could go to other houses, but they prefer to come to us."

"I understand that. It's nice to be around someone who can show empathy instead of just sympathy." the young elf smiled in reply. "What's your name?"

"Rōka."

"We need to report this to my cousin." Maedhros said after a few minutes, indicating the fallen knife. Rōka nodded.

They walked side by side to Turgon's quarters. He noticed that Rōka kept risking glances at the mark.

"What is it?" he finally asked.

"I never knew anyone else had it, that's all." Rōka replied, somewhat sheepish over the fact that he'd been caught staring. Maedhros stopped dead in his tracks.

"You mean…?"

Rōka looked around. After ensuring that no-one was in the vicinity, he pulled at his tunic, revealing his right side. Whip marks and burns seemed to wrap around his torso, which was just as scarred as Maedhros'. Nelyafinwë gaped.

The rebel rouser's mark was carved deeply into Rōka's side. The young elf looked up at him, his eyes holding contradicting emotions.

Scared, proud.

Strong, weak.

Innocent, haunted.

"You're not alone."

"So… what happened to Rōka?" Elrond asked. Maedhros sighed. He couldn't deny that he'd grown rather fond of the young Lord of Gondolin. When he'd heard of the fall and Rōka's untimely death, he'd locked himself in his chambers for the remainder of the day.

"He was killed during the fall of Gondolin. You'll find him in your history books now. His house made the greatest sacrifice. They kept the enemy at bay so that the Gondolindrim had a chance to escape."

"So… if it weren't for him… Ada might not… might not have…?"

"I don't know what would've happened to your father if Rōka hadn't made the sacrifice he did." Maedhros replied quietly as he knelt down beside the child. "But let's not dwell on that right now. Rōka knew very well what he was doing, and I doubt he had any regrets about that decision."

"Are you sure?" Elrond asked, his large grey eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm sure." Maedhros responded gently. "I'm also sure that Rōka wouldn't want you crying either." Elrond sniffled as he nodded, wiping his eyes.

She darted from shadow to shadow, pausing every now and then, looking around. She rubbed at her eyes as she looked around, her old wounds burning slightly. She'd gotten much better since she'd arrived at Himring. It had taken a while to trust the servants who were assigned to help her, but she still trusted her savior far more than anyone else there. He truly understood everything she'd been through, unlike the others. The others tried to help her and offer comfort, but Maedhros actually knew how to help her, ultimately making him her go-to person when it came to nightmares and bad memories.

And yet so many seemed so afraid of him.

It made no sense to her.

There was no reason to be afraid of him.

He was kind, at least to her.

He was scared himself, but he tried his best to help her be less scared.

Last night, she'd had a nightmare, and he'd let her stay with him. It was rather funny at first, as he had to give her a boost to get into the bed because she was too small.

He hadn't minded when she curled up against him for warmth, clinging to his nightshirt.

When she'd awoken, she'd found herself back in her own room, wrapped in his blanket.

This night had been a similar situation, however, when she went to his chambers to try and find him, he wasn't there.

She kept going, in hopes of finding Maedhros.

Suddenly, she caught sight of him, standing tall and proud at the ramparts, the moonlight shining in his flinty eyes as the breeze lightly blew his flaming red hair away from his face, making it look like it was floating, as though he possessed some ancient power of Eru himself.

She rushed over, firmly attaching herself to his leg, before squealing in fright.

There was another elfling!

She buried her face into Maedhros' leg, trembling.

It didn't matter that he was another elfling, who was most likely not much older than her. She didn't give her trust that easily.

"Maedhros? Who is that?" Elrond asked, his grey eyes wide as he looked curiously at the other elfling. She was small in stature, perhaps the smallest elfling he'd ever seen. She was very thin as well, almost gaunt. Her silver hair was short, scarcely brushing her shoulders.

"This is Wilwarin." Maedhros murmured softly, as though he was afraid of frightening her away as he knelt down, carefully rubbing comforting circles into her back. "It's alright." He whispered gently to her, almost as though she was a skittish rabbit he was coaxing out of her den. "That's just Elrond. He won't hurt you."

She looked up at him.

His breath hitched in his throat, but only for a second. Her right eye was severely damaged, half open, and drifting to the side. Her left eye, however, looked at him almost hopefully, her forbidden wish for a friend shining in the icy blue depth.

"Hello." He said, extending his hand to her while keeping the other at his side, open, to show that he meant no harm.

She looked between his hand and his face, ever cautious.

"H-hello." She whispered, carefully, almost hesitantly placing her hand in his.

Maedhros heaved a silent sigh of relief. He'd known that she'd eventually have to meet the twins somehow, and surprisingly, although the night hadn't been kind to him so far, the exchange between Elrond and Wilwarin had gone better than he'd even dared to hope for.

"Why are you up? Nightmare?" He asked gently, tilting her face towards slightly, his touch featherlight, for fear of aggravating her wounds any further. She nodded, blinking back tears as she sniffled. "Do you want to stay with me?" She buried her face into his chest.

Maedhros slowly released a gentle breath, carefully picking her up,balancing her on his hip.

"Can… Can I stay too?" Elrond asked quietly.

"I don't see why not." Maedhros answered, much to his surprise. with a grin, he took the Fëanorian's hand.

Together, they walked back to the door.

"Ah, well."

Maedhros thought to himself. "It wasn't like I was going to get any sleep tonight anyways! But maybe sleepless nights aren't so bad after all."

And that's that for this chapter! Sorry that it took me so long to update this, and thank you all so much for your patience! (3