Maedhros survived the First Age by casting the Silmaril into the fiery abyss, which forever scorched his hand.

For many years, he wandered through Middle-earth, consumed by guilt for his actions and their consequences. An outsider to himself, he avoided crowded places, only occasionally appearing on the outskirts of cities.

Without counting the years or following the course of events, Maedhros intuitively sensed that the Third Age had long been underway. The path led him to Himling, now a small island, whose underwater ruins and remnants of walls whispered of the past. And then, in the midst of this oblivion, he saw his own statue. An inexplicable discomfort gripped him.

He remembered how it was erected shortly after his return from captivity: fresh scars, one arm, a gaze filled with a desire for revenge and battle against the Dark Ones.

He was so immersed in these painful memories that he didn't notice the girl who had stopped to admire the statue. How? When did she appear? The sudden realization made him tense. Clearing his throat, he broke the silence for the first time in years.

"What are you doing in such a place, young lady?"