When beech and ash gave way to holly and oak, Maedeth began to breathe a little easier. Elladan had led them through hidden paths along the River Bruinen. Days passed without incident. But they spoke little, with an unwholesome air carrying south down the river from the Ettenmoors.

At last, Elladan had found what he looked for. A steep path filled with switchbacks led out of the river gorge, flanked by trees and shrubs. Both had dismounted. Though their horses tried their hardest to get through with them riding, it became easier to walk before them.

Coming out onto the northernmost edge of Eregion, the breeze blew through the holly and oak trees, rustling their branches and bringing a lightness to Maedeth’s heart. She was exhausted. They hadn’t rested much in days. Nevertheless, they wanted to push a bit further into Eregion before settling down.

By nightfall, the lightness in her heart vanished. They heard distant howls on the wind. Maedeth shivered. The sword on her belt weighed heavily against her thigh. She knew how to use it, theoretically, but fighting had never been her focus.

Nothing bothered them in the darkness that night, nor the next morning. By midday, the holly and oak forest became more sparse. Hills dotted with trees stretched on towards the Misty Mountains.

“We should seek shelter before nightfall,” Elladan said.

It was good to hear his voice again. Both had been so focused on staying alive that silence became better company than speech. But as noon turned to evening, the reminder she was not alone made a difference.

Maedeth nodded. “What were your thoughts?”

He sighed. They paused their riding along the overgrown, barely visible ancient roadway. Elladan looked around. “Perhaps we seek for ruins of the Jewel-smiths. Most have crumbled, but last I traveled in these lands some still stood.”

“I trust you.”

She did. And even if it meant seeking out shelter in the ruins of her distant cousin’s ancient kingdom, she would follow him.

What Elladan found before the sun set was little more than three crumbled walls. Once they must’ve been tall and fair, crafted of white stones and some kind of intricate, scrolling metalwork in the remaining windows. The tile floors had long since cracked. But it offered some protection of the howling wolves they’d begun to hear with the setting sun.

“Do you think a fire is worth the risk?” she asked.

He stepped away from tying off the horses to look out over the rolling hills. After a moment, he turned to her. “I think so. A small one at least, that can be made larger if needed.”

“We should search the place, see what useful things we can scavenge,” she said.

Elladan agreed. The wind picked up, permeating their meager shelter through windows and crumbled sections of what remained of the walls. Maedeth felt her stomach rumble. They'd been careful with rations. Though Hadhodrond was not far, in the event they were turned away and had to go south to Tharbad and onto the Great Road, the supplies had to last.

She started picking through the shrubbery and brambles that grew inside the ruins. The thorns ripped at her long sleeved riding gear but could not break through her leather gloves. Behind her, Elladan muttered under his breath while digging through and around fallen stones.

It didn't take long to find kindling and dead wood for a fire. Gathering up the supplies, Maedeth got ready to make her first trip back to their sheltered corner. As she made her way over, she heard Elladan gasp.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Elladan looked up from the pile of rubble he'd been going through, smiling. He joined her back at the campsite visible in the final rays of the sun.

“Look,” he said. “I take this as a good omen on our mission.”

The dying light glittered off a dagger. A long, thing blade of steel met a small crossguard of mithril. The pommel, made of a dark burnished metal, had an engraved Fëanorian Star at the center of which set a red gem. As she took it, the sunlight caught the facets of the gemstone and turned their little hideaway flaming reds and oranges.

Maedeth trembled as she clasped it. Rínior had one exactly like it, given to him by their mother, who in turn had inherited it from her own parents. She smiled, tears blurring her vision.

“It must have belonged to one of the Jewel-smiths.” Elladan looked up from the dagger to her. “Take it! It's yours, by birthright!”

Maedeth felt a pang in her chest as she took the scavenged black sheath as well. Birthright.

They set to building the fire. Elladan took charge, gathering some of the supplies Maedeth had found and setting a small flame in the corner of their hideout. As she settled down to meager rations, he turned his attention back to her.

“I know Rínior wields his with great honor,” he said. “And yet you look at that dagger like it has stabbed your heart?”

Maedeth looked up. She finished chewing, listening to the wind in the grasses and over stones. Then she sighed.

“My brother and I are different in many ways,” she said. “Not least of all in our opinions of our elven ancestry.”

Elladan nodded. “And yet you do not see this discovery as a hopeful sign?”

“I don't know what I see it as,” she said. “When I see the eight pointed Fëanorian star, I am reminded of the eight who swore the Oath.”

She had nightmares about it, sometimes. It had happened some five thousand years before her birth, but the stories were told even these days to children, to ensure they understood the dangers of oath-making. Prince Fëanor, mightiest of all the Children of Ilúvatar, greatest the three great gems: the Silmarils. In them he captured the blazing light of the Two Trees of Valinor, of which the sun and moon she saw each day were but a fruit and a flower. But then Morgoth had come, and killed High King Finwë, stealing the Silmarils and destroying the Trees. And in that hour, Fëanor and his Seven Sons swore the Oath to recover the gems by any means, no matter the cost. And it had cost the world much.

“Maedeth?”

She glanced up. Maedeth took a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking body and forget the dark images flooding her mind.

“I apologize,” she said, her voice wavering. “I forgot myself for a moment.”

“Do not apologize.”

Silence stretched between them. The fire crackled and the wind howled. But Elladan spoke again, a few minutes later.

“Is there no part of your heritage you take pride in?”

Maedeth shrugged. She tried to relax against the stone wall. “There are some things I find inspiring. Much is said about the stubbornness of Haleth and the rashness of Caranthir. But one thing neither did was give up in the face of trials.”

“Too true.”

“But in reality,” she said, trailing off, “it is Maglor, the second son, who I must look to for inspiration. He alone of that house made the choice to forgo the Oath, though too late. He made the choice to throw the gem away and accept the doom awaiting him. His brother did not.”

Elladan hummed in agreement. “Our father spoke fondly of Maglor. My brother and I never stopped asking for his stories,” he said, grinning. Elladan gave a short laugh. “Indeed, I think he sometimes thought of Maglor when trying to figure out how to keep his own twin sons in line! I once heard him tell my mother that Eärendil may have been his father by blood, but Maglor taught him how to parent. For better or worse.”

Maedeth laughed, closing her eyes and imagining child Elrond and Elros running circles around Maglor and Maedhros. Their fostering was a rare goodness to come out of that third, most repugnant Kinslaying.

“You know, some days when I close my eyes, and listen to the wind and the water, I swear I can hear harp music.” Maedeth took a slow breath, doing just that. “I pretend it is Maglor wandering the shores of the sea, playing so that Rínior and I may feel a little less alone in a world that scorns us.”

The howling wind over the moorland sounded almost like waves. But it was not. And she did not hear harp music either. She heard—

“Wargs!” Elladan shouted. “Wargs on the wind, not harps!”

Maedeth scrambled up. Her heart raced. In front of her, Elladan unsheathed his sword. It glowed red in the firelight.

“More fire!” he said. “And drawn your weapon!”

The first warg launched itself at Elladan from the darkness. Maedeth screamed, but covered her mouth quickly. Panic would help no one. Elladan needed her help. What small help she could offer.

As he slashed and stabbed, she scrambled in the ground behind him to build the fire. Sticks, brush, anything flammable stoked the flames. The light grew, illuminating more dripping fangs in the dark.

She pulled out her dagger. The red pommel glittered. A second warg slid dead off Elladan’s sword. He seemed to dance in battle, strikes quick and efficient but oddly beautiful.

Claws sliced her arm. Maedeth gasped, scrambling back as a small warg slipped through the shadows towards her. She felt blood pooling against her clothing. The warg bared its fangs. It leaped. With her uninjured right arm, she held the dagger up. Maedeth felt fur and smelled stinking breath. She hit the ground.

A yelp and a gurgle accompanied her fall. Maedeth couldn't think. A huge weight lay on her chest. But she could move, and she could breathe. She heaved upwards. The warg carcass tumbled into the fire.

Elladan looked down at her, eyes wide. At the stench of burning warg, the others bounded away. For a moment, silence returned.

“By Elbereth,” he said, voice stained, “you're okay?”

“Except my arm, yes,” she said.

He looked down at her arm. With his help, she moved further from the fire, but close enough he could use its light.

“You are lucky,” he said, “all things considered. These wounds are not deep, though they look painful. I'll bind them. But then we must move.”

Her head spun as he took out bandages and wrapped her arm. While the wound stung, it felt infinitely better not trying to stick to her ripped sleeve. He explained they would need to move to a new spot.

“More may return here,” he said. “And the stench of burning warg is not easily missed.”

No indeed. Maedeth wrinkled her nose. Standing, they took stock. The horses, though terrified, had no run far. Before long they mounted up and began to speed south east.

In the darkest hours before dawn, they halted again. Their steeds panted, out of breath. Instead of seeking out fire, they had something they had sought a stream. In a copse of trees beside a flowing stream they settled in the darkness.

“How is the pain?” Elladan asked.

Silence had reigned between them on their gallop from the ruins. Maedeth took comfort in his voice again as she set up a place to sleep.

“It hurts,” she said, “but I will live. I have you to thank for that.”

Elladan snorted a small laugh. But he smiled in the darkness.

“Is something funny about that?”

“No, no,” he assured her. “I was thinking about our earlier conversation.”

She paused, looking back at him from fluffing her folded blanket pillow. “Oh?”

“You are not the only one who contends with a powerful lineage.”

The tree shadows and predawn darkness made his expression hard to read. But she knew what he spoke of.

Elladan’s rueful smile turned into a frown. “While you run from the sins of your family’s past, sometimes I feel I am running from the victories of my own.”

Maedeth did not envy him. No other family in Middle Earth boasted such a powerful combination of heroes among their ranks. Even where he solely descended from Beren and Lúthien, it would be impossible shoes to fill.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Here I was going on and on—”

“Nay! Don't apologize. It is my own burden to carry, and in truth I would rather mine than yours,” he said. “I regret every day that you could find no peace in Rivendell.”

She felt her chest tighten as he grew frustrated. She could feel it, the anger and perhaps embarrassment? But he had done nothing to deserve such feelings.

“You cannot hold yourself responsible for the slights of all your people,” she said. “And indeed, Rínior and I are indebted to you and Elrohir.”

Elladan looked up from where he'd been fussing with a stick. “I wish I could've done more.”

Maedeth smiled. She placed a hand on his, feeling the warmth even amidst the cold wind. “Elladan. You are doing more than I could ever ask.”

She blushed as he looked at her. Even in the darkness, his grey eyes glinted. He held her hand and for a moment, all the pain and exhaustion in her body faded. The moment stretched on forever.

But at least, Elladan let go. He flashed her a small, pained smile. “Rest, Maedeth. We ride hard with the new dawn.”