...Maedhros alone stood aside, while Feanor caused fire to be set to the white ships of the Teleri.
There, in shadow of the Prince, was an elf maiden.
When Maedhros knelt to drink from the firth, the Teler hurried before him and drew the water for the Prince. She got down on her hands and knees. The Noldor heard their lord say, "You don't have to do that."
Her name was Silaria - it sounded like a shining wreath when Maedhros said it.
Maedhros didn't turn from the Teler's sorrow. She mistook his pity for love. Silaria took Maedhros's hands. There was blood and dirt caked on the Prince's hands, but Silaria kissed them both, at the wrist, in the place where he would be cut.
She was jealous to see that he could love Fingon.
Silaria slept in a crumpled heap by the side of the Prince's tent from that first night.
The next morning, Maedhros decided to hate Silaria. Meanness rose inside of him.
"Don't look at me," Maedhros told Silaria.
She did not truly understand their language. She stared at him and wouldn't stop.