During Maedhros's stay in Rivendell, he found a quiet solace in the realm's peaceful beauty and the company of kin he'd never met before. He spent much of his time with Arwen, the wise and graceful daughter of Lord Elrond, who shared stories of past ages and revealed glimpses of the family history that had long been hidden from him.
One evening, while they walked beneath the starlit canopy of Rivendell's glades, Arwen shared a tale that stirred something deep within him—a story of his father, Taranis, and an elven woman named Aredhel, who had once captured his father's heart. She spoke of Taranis's journey to Rivendell during his first quest, accompanying Thorin Oakenshield and his company. And she spoke of Aredhel, an elf-maid of great beauty and spirit, whose light had shone brightly among their kin.
"Taranis was a stranger to us, a man with a mysterious power few could understand," Arwen recounted softly, her gaze distant as she seemed to look back through time itself. "But Aredhel saw in him something beyond that mystery. She saw strength and kindness, and she grew to care for him deeply."
The revelation surprised Maedhros. He had known his father as a steadfast figure, brave and kind, but he had never imagined him sharing a bond with an immortal elf before meeting his mother, Liriel.
"Why did she leave him, then?" Maedhros asked, unable to quell the curiosity and sadness rising in his chest.
Arwen's expression softened, a hint of sorrow threading her voice. "It was a matter of her heart, one not easily explained. She loved him, but Aredhel feared the path her heart had chosen. She was immortal, and the thought of watching him age while she remained untouched by time was a weight she could not bear. It was not a lack of love, Maedhros, but perhaps too much of it—enough that she could not endure watching him fade while she endured."
Maedhros was silent, contemplating this revelation. After a long moment, he sighed, nodding. "I suppose I can't fault her for that. Without her choice, he might never have met my mother. Without that, I wouldn't have my family, my grandfather, or even this knowledge of our past." He gave Arwen a small, wistful smile. "I don't resent her for it."
Arwen smiled, a gentle pride in her eyes as she looked at him. "You bear a wisdom beyond your years, Maedhros. And now Aredhel's son, Beroan, walks among us."
The name drew Maedhros's attention sharply. "Aredhel had a son?"
Arwen nodded. "Beroan is the son of Aredhel and Elrohir, my brother. He is young for an elf, perhaps fifty years—though that makes him but a youth among our kin."
Maedhros met Beroan not long after that conversation. He saw immediately the blend of strength and grace that the young elf inherited from both his parents, along with a lively spirit that reminded him of his father. Beroan greeted him with eager curiosity, clearly excited to meet someone who carried both human blood and a connection to the legendary House of Fëanor.
"I never met Taranis," Beroan said as they sparred together one morning. "But I heard so much about him from my family. I always hoped I might be able to learn about him through you."
Maedhros smiled, feeling an unexpected warmth at the bond forming between them. "Then let's honor him by building strength together," he said, demonstrating a defensive maneuver with careful attention. "If we are to bear the legacy of those who came before, we should wield it with skill and with purpose."
Beroan absorbed every lesson eagerly, watching Maedhros's movements with an intense focus, determined to learn as much as he could. And Maedhros, for his part, found himself invested in Beroan's training, guiding his stance, correcting his technique, and sharing lessons his own father had taught him. He felt a sense of responsibility in the guidance he offered, and with each passing day, his respect for Beroan grew.
As the days turned into weeks, Maedhros spent more time with Beroan, sharing stories of the world beyond Rivendell and recounting tales of his father's deeds and bravery. Beroan, in turn, shared his own dreams and aspirations, eager to contribute to the protection and welfare of his people. Maedhros admired Beroan's spirit, recognizing in him the same passion that had driven Taranis to fight for justice.
In the evenings, Maedhros would sometimes find himself reflecting on the story of Aredhel and his father, feeling a deepening appreciation for the paths that had brought them all here. He also found himself occasionally thinking of his grandfather, Maglor, wondering what he would think of his grandson training an elven youth, continuing the legacy of skill and valor.
One evening, as he prepared to leave Rivendell, Maedhros and Beroan met in one of Rivendell's quiet groves. The two stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Beroan turned to him, his gaze steady but filled with a hint of longing.
"Thank you, Maedhros," he said quietly. "For everything you've taught me. I feel as though I know a part of my family that I never had the chance to meet."
Maedhros placed a firm hand on Beroan's shoulder, offering a small smile. "You have great strength in you, Beroan. You honor those who came before us, and I have no doubt you'll bring light to Middle-earth in your own way."
Beroan nodded, his gaze filled with a newfound determination. "I will remember this, Maedhros. And I hope we meet again."
After paying his respects to Lord Elrond, who expressed quiet pride in the kinship he had fostered with Beroan, Maedhros said a heartfelt farewell to Arwen, who wished him safe travels and urged him to keep their family's legacy strong.
With a final glance at the tranquil beauty of Rivendell, Maedhros departed, the bonds of family and friendship strengthened within him, a renewed purpose guiding his steps forward into the unknown paths of Middle-earth.