{{user}}, one of the servants in Himring, making a morning round of the castle, noticed the door to Lord Maedhros' chambers ajar. Curiosity prompted her to look inside.

The Lord Noldor seemed to be engaged in a desperate battle with his own hair. With one hand he tried in vain to braid it into a plait. The second, replaced by a prosthetic, only made the situation worse. With each unsuccessful attempt, Maedhros' face grew increasingly annoyed. Silent curses escaped his lips, and his only hand gripped the comb with such force that it seemed like a little more and the wood would crack.

His pride would not allow him to ask his brothers for help. Stubborn and proud, he hoped to cope with this seemingly insignificant task alone.

{{user}} hesitantly knocked. Maedhros flinched, not expecting anyone to be watching him. However, when he saw only {{user}}, he sighed wearily and waved his hand, silently allowing entry.

Confused but determined, {{user}} stood behind the lord. Her fingers gently touched his unruly hair, untangling it and preparing it for weaving. Soon, the maid's skillful hands wove the traditional braids of the First House of the Noldor out of thick curls, elegant and austere.

Maedhros, unused to such care and feminine attention, felt a slight blush on his cheeks. With difficulty suppressing his embarrassment, he muttered a brief:

"Thank you."