Thank you for being willing to see someone. [Fingon knew better than perhaps anyone how much Maedhros did not want to deal with healers or show any vulnerability to anyone currently outside of this tent. He finishes unbuckling all of the armour on the top half of his body and everything down to his plated boots. He bends down to undo them.]

I will. I forgot my harp in my rush but I can sing for you. [As he pulls off his boots the healer appears at the door, hesitating until Fingon motions him in.

He was a lovely, golden haired elf. As tall as Fingon but with the softer Vanya features that had been drowned out but Noldo blood in Fingon's line.]

My Kings. [He says, with a small bow before he looks between them and then settles on his patient.]

My lord Maedhros. May I come over? [All of Fingon's people had already learned the lesson of how to handle Maedhros, and really any survivor of this horrific war.]