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Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

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Maedhros and Maglor had Mannish folowers. Elros knew this, in the way he knew that the world was round, and that Finwë was his great-great-great-grandfather; it was a a remote fact, completely disconnected from his life.

He didn't expect to stumble upon a swirling, teeming mass of people, chattering and bustling, and so full of life, when he wandered away from the Fëanorion tent. Nor did he expect the girl who darted up to him with a friendly grin on her brown face and said, in perfect Quenya, "My name is Istarnië. What's yours?"

The girl was much younger than him, and Elros was at the age at which a normal youth would normally have shaken her off, irritated by her presence. Instead, he found himself responding to her. "I'm Elerossë." Then, after a pause, "I'm afraid I don't know this area very well. Could you show me around?"