Maedhros lay flat on his back, dizzy with an exhaustion that was not physical. Maglor had been right; he had not really been fit enough for this trip yet, on his own with Celegorm. But he had been wrong, too.
'It was a good move, you will see, Makalaure,' he thought. 'Already he is falling in love with this land. Already he is beginning to unbend.'
As on the preceding evenings, he lulled himself to sleep by thinking of his plans for the hill of Himring: high walls, thick walls, the strongest walls ever seen, strong enough to protect everyone under his care against Morgoth... Tonight, for the first time, he imagined birds' nests among the eaves of Himring and fell asleep smiling.
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