"And it is sung that she fell from the air upon the timbers of Vingilot, in a swoon, nigh unto death for the urgency of her speed, and Earendil took her to his bosom; but in the morning with marvelling eyes he beheld his wife in her own form beside him with her hair upon his face, and she slept."

Maglor

As a lord in the house of Feanor, Maglor's position was rightfully at the head of the caravan heading back to Ossiriand, just behind where Maedhros rode. As the day went on with Elrond and Elros perched in his saddle – they had to stop for a bit because the leather of the saddle was chafing Elros' legs, then another stop because Elrond had to wee, and then the brothers were bickering so Maglor made them cool off, and then both boys were getting saddle-sore – they gradually drifted to the rear.

"Didn't your father ever teach you how to ride?"

Elros shook his head as if it were obvious. "We're mariners. Why don't we just sail back to your house?"

Maglor bit his tongue.

Elrond dug his ankles into the ground and hung against Maglor's sleeve, stretching out the linen. "Why can't we ride back in the carts?"

Maglor squatted and pointed at one of the aforementioned carts, trundling by. "You see them?" A trio of soldiers lay nestled together on the narrow wooden bed. One of them saw the boys and gamely gave a little wave with the hand that wasn't occupied holding the stump that remained of his leg. The middle elf moaned softly as he reclined on the boards. He was tended to by the third companion, who wore a thick swath of bandages on his abdomen and a green look on his face.

Elrond waved back shyly.

"Do you need the carts more than him?"

Elrond looked sullen, but didn't say anything.

Elros looked around the forest road. "It's too quiet."

Maglor stared. There was the creak of wood as the army's accursed siege weapons wheeled over the gravel, officers barking orders to keep up the pace, and the rhythmic tread of thousands of footsteps. Not to mention the threat of when they would hear Gil-Galad's silver horns approaching from the distance. So far the Feanorian army had made good pace, but Maglor was so wound up with pent-up nerves that he kept thinking he'd heard it. He had twisted around in his saddle so many times this morning, fearing there had been some sound right on the edge of hearing, that Elros complained Maglor was trying to make them motion-sick.

"If we don't get a move on, it'll be a lot louder. Up we go." Maglor hoisted them both into the saddle in turn and then got up himself. They set off down the road again, surrounded by infantry walking. "Anyway, what do you mean, 'too quiet'?"

Elros frowned in concentration. "It just sounds … different."

Maglor thought to himself as he navigated over a protruding tree root. Elrond shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but they couldn't risk falling any farther behind.

"Do you mean because we can't hear the sea?"

Elros brightened up. "Yes!" He looked worried. "Where is your house, anyway? Haven't we gone very far already?"

Maglor nudged him with his arm as he held the reins. "You'll soon find Middle-Earth is much larger than you ever imagined."

Elros slumped in dismay. Elrond turned his head to look at Maglor in wonder.