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Maegisil is found and brought in . . .
My Lord Celeborn! We have discovered a small group of survivors. A short way to the west of us. Their scouts came near and we followed them back to where the Mirdain were gathered.
There was a pause before the Lorien scout went on.
It is Maegisil, Lord. There are sixteen others with him. And ‘no’ . . . Celebrimbor is not among them . . .
~*~
Maegisil and his small party were escorted to the encampment of Dwarves and Elves of Lindon and Lorien by the three Lorien scouts who had found them. Celeborn stood at the edge of the camp, his keen grey eyes fixed on their approach. He looked over the small group as it drew near him, his features giving no evidence of the dismay at the absence of his friend, Celebrimbor. Surely he would have been at the side of his counselor . . .
‘We are glad,’ he spoke aloud, ‘that you have been found safe, Counselor. Come, bring your people to our healers.’ He gestured toward the center of the camp, where tents for the wounded had been set up and food was being cooked. ‘Then you and I should speak with Elrond whom Gil-galad has sent.’
Celeborn fell silent as they made their way to the camp center. ‘Gladder still would we have been,’ he thought to himself, ‘if Celebrimbor had been found . . .’
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