After the fresh mushroom was washed and sliced, the golden-haied prince began to chop a cabbage, humming a song Maedhros hadn't known.

　　Love.
　　Love in the air with more love yet to come. A silly love song.

　　No song of Valinor. Or accurately, no song from the Noldor upon Tuna.

　　It must be one of the Telerin songs at the haven of Alqualonde. After two bottles of wine late at night, the most silly song would turn out to be lovely. The maidens too.

　　But not now, in the morning cold, near Lake Mithrim.

　　"My mother's people are also called the Nelyar," Finrod said when he stopped singing and smiled at him, "Glad you're here to help, Nelyo." He started again with the same silly song.

　　For this I will surely regret, remarked Maedhros to himself.

　　The Third.
　　Finrod hadn't named him like that before.

　　None of his half-cousins, not even Fingon ever favored Maedhros' father-name, Third Finwe.
　　"Which showed that the great Feanaro could count." complained Nerdanel the Wise once.

　　"Oh come my beloved," Feanor smirked then at his baby son's mother-name, "Why not concentrate yourself on my bodily beauty, instead of our baby's That will help for a second, or third, or forth, or even...anyway, what do you think of a lovely daughter"

　　We now knew that the great Feanaro could count well to Otso*.

　　Maedhros wasn't the High Prince that was ranked after his father and grandfather, he would never be.
　　His mother had known that, with a little foresight. She hadn't concerned about Maedhros' existence as "Nelyafinwe".

　　It just seemed that Nerdanel also knew that her eldest would one day regain his lost beauty from whatever torment, and remained beautiful, though not unharmed, till the end.

　　Fingolfin, his Rescuer's father, was a High Prince of the Noldor, and by right the Third Finwe, the High-King of the Noldor.
　　That, Maedhros was sure, for he was the one who handed over his own kingship yesterday; with one left hand.
　　With one hand left.
　　He laughed to this thought.

　　-The Dispossessed. I am.

　　"No, that's not right." Finrod stirred his saute.

　　"What?" Maedhros asked.

　　"The mushroom I picked up yesterday afternoon near the lake."

　　So Finrod had not been there, where Maedhros waived of his father's crown.

　　"What did you mean by 'not right'" Maedhros looked over his shoulder: The mixture Finrod made looked quite suspicious.
　　A shudder ran through his tall frame, he wondered whether his dear cousin knew mushrooms could be poisonous.

　　"It's a kind of mushroom that can not be mixed with cabbage." said the golden-haired prince determinedly.

　　"Nonsense."
　　Don't tell me you've wasted the whole morning here to show you've never cooked, cousin.
　　Maedhros thought aloud.

　　"The recipe sucks." Finrod gave him a beautiful smile, "Royal cooks in Valinor are none of the Unbegotten, they've never seen any mushroom in the wild land. Middle-earth has no kitchen for old recipes, I dare say."

　　"And no land for old songs, indeed."
　　Tit for tat.

　　"I'll go to Macalaure to learn new songs one day," Finrod said thoughtfully, "Noldolante for example, it's new, and not a bad one."

　　"Why that?"

　　"It tells us what we've done."

　　He rolled his eyes, "All the wrong-doings,you mean."

　　Finrod laughed, "It may seem that the more you do, the worse it'll be, but that's not true, Nelyo. Look,you are hale again in a few months, that's a good thing, well done."

　　Maedhros could say nothing.

　　He remembered his father making the last comment on Maglor's new song, near a camp-fire right here in Hithlum, two nights before Feanor encountered the Balrogs, being fey as always.

　　"In Valinor, people do nothing, nothing to be remembered, from that very hour our Fall begins; so does Noldolante."

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