Fingon gives a reluctant laugh. "It's always this way, isn't it? 'You rest-' 'No, you rest-' Alright, this time you win. Come to the fire with me, and I shall keep the flames from you."

Still, something nags at him about this. It was what he wanted, wasn't it? Maedhros near the warmth and light the campfire provided? And yet Maedhros follows not for his own sake but for Fingon's, duty to another taking precedence over his own preferences.

It doesn't quite seem right, or sustainable in the long term- but for now, it must do. Fingon threads their fingers together and hopes that this is the right thing for Maedhros.

"You have me, Maitimo. Always."