...Silaria insisted on following him. Cruelty didn't seem to matter in this case. She remained convinced she belonged to him; even when Maedhros hunted with his eagle as fast as he could, she ran after him, trudging along until she was covered with yellow dust with bits of grass threaded into her light hair.
People laughed at her curled up with a blanket in the chilly night air, and soon they were laughing at him. They said that he had a white-haired slave. That she was a know-nothing. Useless.
"Go away," Maedhros cried. "Leave me be."
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