[ Maglor doesn't mind, waiting patiently for his brother - this is little enough, after all. He waited for longer by his brother's bedside, long ago. And that was his fault too. When his brother nods he reaches for his hand, the softly hummed charm that was the first healing song he taught Elrond, long ago .

Eventually, Maedhros will realise what's wrong, that Maglor is far too old, comparatively, that he's frayed around the edges, that he has silver shot through his hair.

Eventually, Maglor will have to explain to his brother what he did. But not yet. Maedhros doesn't need to know, not yet. For now, Maglor focuses on soothing the burns, coaxing them to settle, at least a little. ]

Apparently, [ Maglor says flatly ] spend several centuries running around Houseless. On the plus side, he's saner than I've seen him since we were children.