3 | Maedhros' Socks and Slides

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Glorfindel | The Balrog Slayer

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

Opening his eyes was a struggle, as the dry tears cracked around the ducts. His nose then twitched, sensing an odd scent that reminded him of the healing halls mixed with Erestor's study.

Erestor.

Oh Elbereth... he missed him so much. How his fëa ached to know that the Noldorin elf wouldn't know truly how he felt of him. Those last moments in his hröa, remembering three ages worth of his second life.

And now, he was not sure if was truly able to return.

His death had been quick and not as painful as the first. Unlike his second death, the battle and destruction of his fallen home of Gondolin had brought him mental and physical scars that had to heal for over a thousand years. Decades of having to wander the Halls of Mandos along with Ecthelion before he chose to be re-embodied and stay in his home. From then, he believed he had finally done what the Valar had tasked him as well as atone what he had done with the Noldor who disobeyed Manwë's orders to return to Aman.

But his heart then ached for another.

Elemmírë, his little sister and the only kin that had survived close to him during the crossing of Helcaraxë.

His doubts of fulfilling his promise to a certain Vala had him worrying during his stay in Tirion. He loved his parents, for he thanked his Noldorin mother and Vanyarin father for giving him life and choosing to save Elemmírë instead.

Then the opportunity arose, and he was brought before the Valië: Varda Elentári, who informed him that he would continue his promise as well as help the free peoples of Middle Earth against the uprising darkness of Sauron.

The Second Age passed, and many figures passed away. The last High King of the Noldor: Ereinion Gil-Galad, and King Elendil of Númenor. Lost at the final battle against Sauron and Mordor. High Queen Celebrían of the Noldor sailed just by the end of the last year of the Age along with the majority of the great peoples of the Noldor and Sindar of Lindon.

Whilst they went off to Valinor, Glorfindel chose to stay to continue his promise. But not at of spite, but out of his love of protecting not only his sister but any kin of Tuor and Idril. He remembered the fair princess of Gondolin, the closest friend to Elemmírë during their time together before the city's fall. And so, he protected those of Elrond's line, and his job was easier considering that his sister had finally married the half-elven after an entire age.

Honestly, if he had waited for another age: he would have threatened to cut his entire hair if they did not marry.

And his golden hair on his head was practically the only sacred thing he would leave this world.

He thought peace was finally eternal, but The Eternal herself didn't last long. Glorfindel had finally lost himself there the moment she died. He had been by her side for years, and he couldn't save her. Not him nor Elrond or his nephews.

Sometimes he wished up to Elbereth to finally allow him to fade. To finally accept it and return to Valinor.

However: he would not abandon any of Elemmírë's children and Elrond himself. He loved them fiercely no matter how much they hated being coddled or treated like children. He adored his nephews (no matter how much their pranks annoyed him to the ends of the earth) and loved his niece. They were the pieces Elemmírë left of herself to Elrond, the promise she gave to them.

Glorfindel would say that he was content with it, but then his heart finally caved into the stiff and cordially polite advisor to his good brother.

Erestor was nowhere like him. He preferred to stay inside and care for books and research, whilst he preferred to train and stay outside. Erestor was quiet and controlled his voice and thoughts whereas Glorfindel acted before he thought and tried to cheer most within a room.

Elrond once told him that despite Elemmírë's love of the stars and books, she and Glorfindel were evidently siblings. (Which his old governor Hestondur would agree to no end and complain at how unlordly and unladylike they could become if they never were of the Noldor.)

His general interest then began to grow into love, and if the twins and Lindir weren't so finicky with Erestor and him, Glorfindel would have finally expressed his feelings to the elf. Even Illyria Strange, his sister reborn, had caught on too easily and joined the whispers around Imladris.

Then the battle between Mordo the Rogue never allowed him to come home. To finally have his sister back, and to finally tell Erestor that he found him more than just a friend.

His second stay in the Halls was even more haunting, desperate to be re-embodied and to return to Middle Earth. Oh Eru, Glorfindel would beg the Valar to return him to Arda if they even brought him back as a mortal. Just to have one more life with his family.

However, the Halls were now different to the previous time he was here.

No one would speak of it, but no one couldn't ignore the tension that was growing between certain fear groups. The Edain and the race of men would stay briefly nearer to the main caverns of the halls, where there was plenty of light to at least see. But certain elves he didn't expect were still here.

Most of them being the Exiles of the Noldor. It has been two ages since the War of Wrath, surely Námo would have allowed them to be re-embodied after repenting what they had done. Even so, they died to protect Middle Earth and those that were created by the Ainur. What had changed that the Judge of the Halls chose to keep the Noldor in the halls?

He sought the first few days to find familiar faces, finding several of the Sindar and Silvan from the battle healing in their own groups. They remembered his face, kindly greeting him with an apology and hope for his recovery before returning to where the Sindar were. He saw none of his soldiers of Imladris and sighed in relief for once. At least they would be with Illyria and Elrond and the children.

He had to admit, Glorfindel had to thank Mordo for his swift death, using that crystalline sword, because it was helping him recover quickly. His fëa was healing the newer wounds. But his soul would forever contain the ones he saw in Angmar, the war against Sauron and of Gondolin.

Then he bumped straight into someone he wasn't expecting out all people. It was the Lady Nerdanel, wife of Fëanor and one of the wisest of the Noldor. It wasn't a coincidence, however, that Glorfindel found himself with her. For she had been looking for him since word spread of his death.

Wait, did the Valar know the threat that arrived in Middle Earth?

Lady Nerdanel was fancy with her words, keeping her voice low before she told him what she learnt about the battle. They called it The Battle of Unity, and had been a significant war for it involved all races of Middle Earth...but also sorcerers.

The Valar knew the Oialëa had returned...and somehow it was not something good to know about.

From there, Glorfindel was concerned and borderline furious. Who would dare be against Elemmírë? She was a strong warrior, helping the downfall of Morgoth in the War of Wrath. She had helped the Faithful escape Númenor during its downfall and forced Sauron back to the East. Not only that, but she had cared not of the prejudice against race, gender or certain kinslayers.

(Okay, maybe the last one he had to question his sister about. He still was mad at them for being so reckless and careless.)

Slowly, he began to know of the truth since he was gone from Valinor and true fear and dread fell before him.

The Valar was choosing to sing his people out of the world.

He wondered how Lady Nerdanel knew of this but knew not to question anymore unless Námo began to question the tension growing. From then on, Glorfindel had tasked himself to try and get through Varda. Perhaps she would side with him, for he was the sister to Elemmírë after all. And they were of the Noldor.

But Varda Elentári did not seek the Halls during the time he was there, until an unknown hooded figure approached him and informed him that he would take him out of the Halls if he so wished.

Glorfindel didn't trust this shady fellow at first. The figure had worn dark navy robes, almost like what Illyria wore. He knew that he was a male for a start, for Lady Nerdanel then appeared beside the hooded figure and stared at him.

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"Trust him, Laurefindelë." Nerdanel implored to him with pleading eyes. "We need you to return to her."

He realized immediately she meant Illyria Strange.

Nerdanel last words still echoed in his ears. "She is the key to this. It's why she was called that title in the first place. She is our only hope."

And in a flash of light, Glorfindel was blinded as a hand grabbed both of his wrists and tugged him away from the Halls.

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So here he was. Wherever this here was.

His pointed ears twitched as well, hearing the clatter of ceramic and the familiar sound of sparks that he grew accustomed to. Was he back in Imladris? Did that figure bring him back to Middle Earth? But how? It should be impossible to leave the halls.

Glorfindel finally opened his eyes, and his sight was blurry to an extent.

A flicker of light above him was like little fireflies in the gardens, though once he focused his sight – he realized he was inside. The ceiling was made of dark wood, with geometric designs decorating the place. There was an odd scent once more when he sniffed but then felt a warm smoke arise from the corner of his eye.

He finally jerked upwards, and that was his huge mistake.

Of Valar, he felt that he had been knocked over again by a goat, from that one time his nephews and niece decided to bring the blessed farmer's goat into the house and had it leap from the bookshelves.

"My head..." His hand quickly went to his forehead, groaning softly as he gritted his teeth. Should his body be this weak after being re-embodied? The first time wasn't this terrible. Hell, it was mostly relieving and even Ecthelion complained at how happy he was for having his precious hair back.

Rubbing his temples, he swallowed the bile that rose from his throat before seeing the hand carefully place an object onto the small, short table. When he glanced upwards, he found that the object had been a cup of tea, which smelt oddly like what Illyria did. To his honesty, everything smelt like Illyria Strange around here.

Glorfindel finally brought himself to look upon the face of the person and found an elderly man sitting next to him. He wore light grey and blue robes, with many layers than what Illyria wore. His hair was thinning atop his head, but it was saved by his grey and brown beard.

Though what made him curious were the glass objects on the bridge of his nose, held by a piece of metal wire.

The old man looked at him as he said calmly, "Do not move your head too quickly." He advised, "It will make you sick."

It was rather too late, though Glorfindel thanked the gesture anyways. Luckily, he wasn't sick just yet and focused on swallowing his breath once more as he looked around the room.

He had been left in a large square room, the walls made of white paper and wood. They too were decorated in symbols that were like Illyria's shields. There were several small tables as well, with cushions surrounding them.

If he had to actually use his brain for once, this wasn't Imladris at all...or anything he had yet to know of Middle Earth.

His eyes gazed towards the old man, asking him warily: "Where...where am I?"

The old man was humble and patient, answering him kindly back: "You are in Kamar-Taj." He continued, "We found you on the floor of the main room with a letter."

Kamar-Taj.

This. This was the place his sister mentioned! The place she had grown up as a child in her second life!

How did that person even get him here? And why for that matter? Surely Illyria was back in Imladris with Elrond?

Unless...

No. Glorfindel was not going to think about it. Illyria promised she would stay until she would have found a way back.

And did she? And how long had it been since then?

Tell him what: where was this figure anyways? He should march towards that man for not giving him any chance to explain why he was here in the first place.

"There was a person. A...man or elf I believe." Glorfindel spoke, now sitting upright as he was kindly given the teacup once more. When he took a sip, he felt his body warm, and he mentally sighed in relief at the first feeling of a beverage in his third body.

On the other hand, the short elderly man had peered up to him before ordering the person who was behind the far wall. He was surprised that the walls slid open, and another person entered the room carrying a tray. They too wore robes, but their robes were red like Illyria's, though simpler and longer than her own.

The red-robed sorcerer bowed in respect to the elderly man before glancing their eyes at him before hurrying out. Before him on the small table was a plate of odd food. They looked to be some broth, though these green leaves and white cubes were floating about.

His curiosity caused the elderly man to chuckle, informing him that what the bowl held was called miso soup. The green things were scallions (something similar to onions) and the white cubes were called tofu. [1]

The elderly hummed at him, thinking aloud: "Lokachari brought you here on purpose." He then paused, noticing that Glorfindel had not touched the bowl. "Well, do eat..."

"Glorfindel," He finished for him and earned a respectful nod in return and he copied the same gesture.

Afterwards, he couldn't help but finally try the soup, instructed to hold the bowl with his hands and sip it quietly. As the soup touched his lips – he felt like he was eating the most divine dish. Never had he eaten something like this. Illyria did not lie: Earth food was wondrous.

"Ah, the elf." The elderly man spoke as he ate, "Now I understand why Lokachari bears familiar features. I haven't seen a soul like yours in the last two years ago."

Glorfindel gave him an incredulous look.

"Forgive me, I am Master Hamir of the Mystic Arts," He introduced himself.

His eyes perked at the name. Illyria had once spoken of someone named Master Hamir, having high regard and respect for her mentor and teacher like he was a grandfather. Glorfindel couldn't help but easily smile at him, internally thanking him for teaching and protecting his sister.

Glorfindel now emptied the bowl of miso soup and asked: "You are a sorcerer. Would you know who Illyria Strange is?"

Master Hamir nodded, "I believe I know who you mean. However, you are not in the best shape." He glanced at him, curious looks and yet pride. This Lokachari sorcerer must know Master Hamir with high praise then. "He did his best creating your form once more. A very tiring feat for one sorcerer. Now finish, and I will contact the Librarian."

When Master Hamir allowed him to stay alone in the room, Glorfindel followed the sorcerer's advice and stayed put, sitting crossed legged now as his eyes darted over to the odd plate of white grains and egg on top of it.

Well, he won't know if he didn't try.

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Maedhros Fëanorion | The Red Wolf

Location: Illyria and Maedhros' House, Oxford, UK, Earth.

Time: May 2027

There were times in which he loved solitude.

Often, the world around him was too rowdy and crowded. Too many noises that were artificial and not enough peaceful sound of birds or creeks of water. He used to love to spend several times as a child just listening, especially when his brother was born, and Maglor's love of the harp and songs brought more than just birds singing.

Nothing could compare his brother's songs, or the wild wolf cries Celegorm and Caranthir had, or the hard-hitting of metal in the forge when Curufin would be with their father. Or the sounds of wailing from his two younger brothers as their mother soothed them with her voice.

There was he again, thinking too deeply again. And this was the very reason why he hated solitude.

His therapist, Dr Andrea Barnard (or Andrea, considering how long they've known each other since his appearance on Earth) said that silence can drive people to sanity sometimes, and then some noise could ease him from falling to complete pitfalls of memories. She suggested either keeping some bird feeders in their garden for the birds to come, or pick up an instrument to play, or perhaps listen to music or the television in the background of his hobbies.

Illyria had set up plentiful bird feeders around their garden, bringing over a dozen species from the nearby woods that their neighbours should've been annoyed at them for the racket.

Maedhros himself wasn't a prodigy in playing an instrument, having admitted that Maglor would be the only one of his brothers to be the best of them all. Illyria did enjoy playing the piano but knew from her heart that it reminded her too much of Maglor and Elrond playing their harps.

What they didn't agree with was their taste in music. Illyria's taste was non-existent and all over the place. At one time, she would be playing some Celtic music, and the next she would be blasting rock music that made his ears weep in pain. On the other hand, he liked his simple harp and piano soundtracks, even preferring soundtracks from the movies they've watched together.

(He also secretly liked pop music. But if Illyria ever heard him or think about it, he would never hear the end of her laughter for finally caving into Lady Gaga's music.) [2]

(Also, his brothers would question his so-called 'masculinity' as what Darcy described to him.)

Maedhros did in fact enjoy listening to the news, despite being sometimes morbid to almost boring in days. A lot of conflicts and wars from other countries, and crisis that were being tackled. It was hearing these that he had succumbed to join what Illyria called the Avengers. Not truly an official member of these heroes, but at least giving his hand (or two now) in ridding evil from this world he now lived.

Today, he had been tinkering once more.

Illyria had gifted him a workshop, enchanted with spells to expand into its dimension in their home so he could forge anything he could design and make. It was the only place he could be what he wanted to be, disregarding any of his lessons as a proper prince and future king of the Noldor – but just any elf in his smith.

He wore his usual shirt and trousers, with stains littered everywhere as well as a hole he once created after accidentally dropping a metal when his right hand malfunctioned. The blasted thing almost melted his skin hadn't Illyria rushed in from the kitchen and got him to the hospital. From then on, he was chortled by Darcy Lewis to wear an apron and gloves if he was handling hot things.

Honestly, he wasn't going anywhere near scalding any time soon.

What he did not refuse was his footwear. Maedhros blamed Illyria for this, for he hated the plastic material and yet loved the idea of socks and sandals.

On his name day (which he was surprised that she remembered after all of these years along with her amnesia), Illyria gifted him a pair of slides. With the green and red and white colour scheme, it did suit his tastes.

Eyes trained on the workbench in front of him, he carefully carved the engravings on the side of the blade. However, his ears were elsewhere.

The news reporter spoke in a neutral tone: "Youngest member for the United Nations' International Court of Justice. A young woman by the name of Niobe Jacobs. Known for her work in the dispute between Sudan and South Sudan, the wars in the Middle East as well as disbanding the Sokovia Accords." [3]

Maedhros could imagine the woman's face. Well, it was difficult not to when her face was rather common in the past couple of weeks on the news.

Illyria had once had her moments of recollection, swearing that she looked familiar before shaking her head. Illyria didn't want to push her hopes again, not when they still didn't know if Andrea Barnard possessed a fëa they knew before.

Maybe they were going crazy.

He would have to see a Silmaril again if he did. Or perhaps his father. That would be a better face to be annoyed at.

"She is a true symbol for young people and women of this generation. After the blip and millions of our families and love ones returning, she had set to aid many agencies and states to help with conflict as well as advising to put down the discordance." The news reporter continued to babble on, interviewing other people about their opinions of this Niobe Jacobs.

Then just as he finished the first blade, he crinkled his nose as he glanced up. Someone had turned off the TV.

"Mae?" Illyria's voice called out from the corridor.

He replied in the same volume, "I am in here."

Illyria plopped her bag down beside the workbench and sat down on the stool in the same matter. "You forgot to turn off the TV again," She told him, "Unless you were listening?"

Maedhros looked back down, taking the other blade and began engraving the next one. "The peace is...disturbing. I'd rather listen to whatever is on the news than be in total silence." He then paused, glancing towards her before he smirked, "Do remember I do have my so-called elf ears and elf eyes."

"What are you making this time?" She asked.

Not even pausing his work, he allowed Illyria to handle the finished blade into her hands as he answered: "New set of daggers." Maedhros informed her, "Peter Parker's friends would like their very own."

"Their?"

He hummed. "MJ and Ned to be exact."

"Ah," Illyria gently placed it down on the table. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Illyria grin down at him. "Well, they're always going to be fawning over you, Maitimo."

Fawning might not be right for his sake. Yes, the young Spiderchild had been the first of the Avengers he had been introduced to. The child was practically a baby in his eyes, with those wide eyes and a mouth that could make a run for Celegorm's hyper personality. He looked at Maedhros like he was a god, asking him too many things that hurt his ear but still earned him a chuckle.

Then came his best friend, Ned Leeds. The boy was the perfect friend for Peter Parker. He shared the same love for his world though asked less (which his appearance and demeanour might be the cause of it). He was impressed by his lore and even impressed by how he knew Tengwar. It was why he had asked for the dagger, which Illyria insisted to be blunted before giving it to them.

Michelle Jones was an entire matter. She reminded him of Caranthir, wild and yet quiet. Her eyes didn't hide her mind which was filled with much knowledge as what Ned and Peter would spill out of their mouths. She had once asked how it felt to kill an orc to him and never did Maedhros doubted the young girl since then.

(He might have a favourite out of the three, though even Illyria had one but she wasn't going to kiss and tell.)

Once he was done engraving MJ's dagger, he placed them in their relative leather sheaths. Those daggers, despite only being gifts – would aid them if they were in any danger. They were laced by his own elven magic, with enchantments to glow if any evil were around them. He only hoped neither of them would ever use it after what happened last year.

Maedhros then remembered another piece he created and hopped off his stool to head to the chest drawer. Taking the red box from the top drawer, he placed it onto the workbench – right in front of Illyria. "I have also made this. For you." He said.

Her eyes widened slightly; her hands eager to open the lid to find the very gift. In her and was a golden circlet, with tiny white and red gems dotted around. She looked at it before turning her eyes to him. "You didn't have to."

Rolling his eyes, Maedhros retold her request: "You graduate this coming summer and you asked me to give you a circlet." His voice quietened, still eyeing her as she studied the circlet. "It is not to the best of our people's standards but—"

"It's perfect, Mae," Illyria affirmed, her voice softening. "Thank you."

Matting her hair down, Maedhros watched her closely as she used the tips of her fingers to place the circlet lightly atop her head. It was a perfect fit, with the metal curling in a pattern fit for the Noldor. When Illyria had told him to use gold instead of silver, Maedhros had been confused and told her that the gold would clash with the colour of her hair.

And then one weekend she returned home with silver hair.

Apparently it was a hair dye: a common thing most humans did. Maedhros had never met any Eldar or Edain or even Dwarf to colour their hair. Their hair was the most precious thing in the world, and cutting it was already a scandal.

Dyeing it permanently, it seemed rather too daring.

Or maybe he was getting old.

Maybe in the Third Age, hair dyes were now being introduced and he was just being his stifling self to not accept elf culture changes. However, Maedhros couldn't deny how she scarily reminded him of what his grandmother once looked like.

He never knew Miriel, but there were always paintings of her in the palace. How she was unnaturally born with silver hair and blue eyes. Silver hair was common for the Sindar and Teleri and rare for the Noldor. But blue eyes: they were the rarest of them all. Most elves had grey eyes. Both his parents bore two rarest colours of eyes. Green emeralds and sky-blue eyes.

Nevertheless, Illyria Strange looked beautiful and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"I am glad you love it, nethig." Maedhros quipped, "Though you don't dress the part as the Lady of Imladris, Illyria."

Illyria quickly huffed, raising her shoulders before she placed the circlet back into the box and patted down her clothes. She was covered with grey stains and a scent of metal and smoke. She grumbled back, "Well, blame Finneas for making me solder a bunch of wires because Darcy couldn't. Not when she's you know..."

She made a curved gesture over her stomach and Maedhros raised an eyebrow until he mentally shook his head. By now, he shouldn't even ask why Illyria brought the effort to mime everything.

However, Maedhros had to agree and said with concern, "She should be resting."

"I know!" She waved her hands before resting them atop the workbench. Sighing, she complained: "And then she hits both me and Finneas and tells us off that she's not invalid and that she can take care of herself."

Raising an eyebrow once more, he plainly put: "Illyria. That was you last week."

"Shut up."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her. Illyria continued, "And I was fine after some rest and the curry we had."

Changing the subject, Maedhros was quick to ask: "How was it?" He clarified, "The lab, not the curry I mean."

"Fine."

The answer was too short, and not to even tell that her eyes had gotten weary despite her tight voice. Maedhros already knew she must have had a rough day again back in the university. It had been like this for the path couple of months, especially when Illyria's graduation was coming, and she was not even complete with her dissertation.

"It does not seem fine to me, nethig," Maedhros spoke.

Illyria slumped on her seat, her hand on her chin as she explained tiredly, "It's the locator. It's just too unstable if I just tried my magic." She continued, "I can do it around Earth but crossing over to Middle Earth is difficult."

"Have you not consulted with Darcy's friend?" He questioned.

Her eyes flickered to him and piped, "Aunt Jane? No, she's still in New Asgard and busy. Wanda...she's been off-grid since last year. Dad says we might not be able to contact her until the world's literally on fire." She grinned slightly at her quip before she, her turn, changed the subject. "Tomorrow's Sunday, you are coming with me to New York, right? Or...?"

"Why not." Maedhros shrugged. He knew what tomorrow would be like. It was something he, Illyria and her family kept at heart ever since she had returned from Middle Earth and he entered her life. "Kathryn did ask if you'd like dinner with her wife," He mentioned.

At that mentioned, Illyria's voice awkwardly drawled out: "Uhhh, not really a fan of her food. Tell her I'm abroad."

"Illyria," He wanted to scowl but didn't have the energy to tell her off for being rude. Their neighbours had not been anything but kind to them since they began living with her. Kathryn had been a kind woman to him after helping him navigate Oxford for the first time, informing him where everything was.

Whereas her wife, Philippa, enjoyed running in the mornings with him. Kathryn was secretly the better one at cooking, but most of the time Philippa would be the one cooking. And with Illyria...she wasn't exactly fond of the liquid-based cuisine.

"I just don't like that sort of cuisine. Months of eating broth on the road get to you." Illyria made a soured look.

Maedhros shook his head, beginning to tidy up his workplace whilst he allowed Illyria to fill the room with her voice. He did pipe in and said, "I have yet to know to understand why you went through that quest, nethig."

She replied, "Because my friend is a hobbit and wanted to go on an adventure. And...yeah."

Pausing, he realized what he had done and turned around to her. "I am sorry."

"Why?" Illyria furrowed her eyebrows.

Maedhros did all he could to hide the pained face. He had known everything now that happened to Illyria just before arrived here. And she had hidden it from him for his sake. Never would he feel the debt he owed to Illyria Strange for caring for him for now he would do the same.

"You know why, Illyria."

She did her best to hide it, but she hid nothing now to him. Maedhros knew the quiet tone Illyria Strange had when she spoke of her brother. "No one understands that I had to watch him die twice." Illyria whispered, "It...it should have been me, you know. And now I'm stuck here and I'm trying all I can to contact Arwen or Galadriel or Elrond or even Gandalf just to see if we can get back."

Placing a hand onto her shoulder, he looked down at her and softly spoke, "Nethig. As you said to me many times, we will continue looking and waiting for it."

"I just...I feel so useless here." She whispered, and she shut her eyes. Maedhros quickly brought his arm around her, letting her head lean against him. Illyria sobbed but laughed at the same time, a smile as she wiped the tears across her cheeks. "I'm cooking dinner and building a machine with an engineer whilst you're here with a nanotech hand and wearing slides. Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this."

Maedhros smiled sadly at her. From what she said, did sound bizarre. But who would come to judge them now? This wasn't Beleriand or Valinor at all. They were on Earth, the only elves existing in this world, and so far from the people who needed them...who needed her.

Who needed the Oialëa.

"We would never imagine this, did we Illyria?" He as/ked, looking straight down at those ocean eyes – his sense of longing to see the sea once more. Of home...of Eldamar.

Instead, the ocean was here, with Illyria.

"No." She spoke with a gentle smile that lit up the very room they were in. "But I'm glad you're here, Maitimo."

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[1] - Miso Soup: A Japanese traditional soup consisting of dashi soup, miso paste, scallions and tofu.
[2] - Lady Gaga: A Pop Music Artist famous for her songs such as Bad Romance and an actress in A Star is Born.
[3] - United Nations: An International Organisation to help secure peace between states and consider lessening conflict over states.

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A/N: I forgot to post this last week because I've been busy with work. So here's another one, guess Glorfindel's back and alive and now on Earth. They'll meet up soon if you want a sneaky hint on that.

As for Maedhros, take note of certain things like newsreels and just all the notes he mentions. I love adding these to kind of build up mentions of other characters and events that will take place in other future parts of this series. This won't be picked up at the end of Anarencar but will heavily be put on Part 3.

Thank you for the patience and hope you enjoyed it. :)

Edited: 09/11/2021