He brings fire into the darkness and finds him on a table of stone, a naked, mottled heap of limbs, bruised and bleeding, splayed in half awareness, chained without need.
Adar murmurs something about trees.
And Arondir. He doesn’t question, nor hesitate, nor consider.
---
Or, Adar has never been saved before, until, perhaps, now.
---
Or, let's flip a few tales back and see how Adar came to be with the fellowship of elves.