Mirth danced in grey eyes and Elros snorted teasingly at him. "We will ride near. I am sure Elrond will ride out to meet us."

He was grateful Maedhros had managed to somehow pull himself back enough to run. To run to him. To run back towards life, near enough to be shored up. When the bowls were empty, the king went to the table where he'd spotted a pitcher of water and two glasses, which he was quick to bring back and pour Maedhros a glass. Then held it gently to his lips in wordless command.

"Two," so far. His wife was pregnant again, in the early stages but even he could tell. "I will wash it for you. If I cannot rescue it, I will do as you ask. And I will help you, if you let me."

Oh good. He wanted his babies to meet their grandpa.