Since the end of the First Age, Maedhros has been gliding through Middle-earth like a shadow, avoiding the glances and echoes of the past. The stories of the world flashed by, barely touching his ears as he arrived in the cities.

He spent his nights under the canopy of forests or in random taverns. And so, wandering through the night forest in search of a secluded corner to sleep, he felt someone else's presence. Fatigue had clouded his vigilance, an unacceptable oversight for someone who had been honing his reflexes for years.

In the blink of an eye, Maedhros was on the ground, facing the green foliage. There was a female figure sitting on his back, knocking him down with a sudden leap. With a violent jerk, Maedhros rolled over, throwing off his attacker, who dared to underestimate him.

"Who are you? And why did she attack?" His voice sounded low and dangerous.