The Parentage of Gil-Galad by avi17

Chapter 1

Hehehe...somewhat inspired by an extremely silly conversation on DA a while back, and written pretty much all in one go (which for me is FAST). Oh the crack. ;P

This was fun. God only knows whether or not it's actually funny, but whatever, I enjoyed myself. XD

It's pretty bad that this is the longest Tolkien-related thing I've written so far.

Warnings: Complete and utter crack. Rather OOC Maedhros, dense teenage Gil-Galad, mentions of slash and mpreg (neither of which are taken seriously at all). Basically just complete silliness. Apologies for bad Star Wars reference.

Read Chapter 1

The Parentage of Gil-Galad

Initially, the news that one of the sons of Fëanor was riding into the refugee settlement at the Mouths of Sirion caused something of a panic.  Every few minutes, one of the terrified Falathrim or Sindar would come bursting through the door of Círdan the Shipwright, crying, "They have come for the Silmarils!  We're all going to die!" and continuing to babble in that vein until Círdan calmly pointed out that it was highly unlikely, considering that no one there had any Silmarils in the first place.   This continued for a good hour, until a messenger bearing the Fëanorian star arrived at the aforementioned door with a rather strange message- that their hysteria-causing visitor was none other than Fëanor's eldest, Maedhros, and that he had come for a surprisingly nonviolent purpose- to speak with Ereinion Gil-Galad, heir of the High Kingship of the Noldor.

Círdan was troubled by the potential motivations behind this request, including but not limited to Kinslaying, or the revealing of Círdan's extensive collection of dwarvish erotica, which he had thus far managed to keep mostly secret (though he did have a well-known fondness for beards). However, Ereinion, who was at that time rather typically adolescent, insisted against everyone else's better judgment that he would meet with Maedhros alone.  Fingering the mostly ornamental sword hanging from his belt, he declared, "I will go, for I have a few choice words for the Kinslayer."

So it was that Ereinion Gil-Galad came to meet his cousin (in some manner- by that point most sensible genealogists had basically given up on Finwë's house) Maedhros, son of Fëanor, and found himself regretting his earlier declaration.  Maedhros was, if nothing else, very tall.  It was rather difficult to glare convincingly when his eyes were about level with the copper haired elf's nipples (or at least where he figured they'd be if he cared to think about it, which he did not).  Still, when Maedhros said solemnly, "Well met, Ereinion Gil-Galad," and extended a hand- the left, of course- for a shake, the young elf managed to look suitably indignant, and instead of taking the proffered hand, he stepped back and drew his blade, pointing it firmly at Maedhros' heart.

Looking genuinely dumbfounded, Maedhros asked, "Why do you draw your sword on me?  Have I somehow wronged you?"

Fury flashing in his eyes, Ereinion exclaimed, "Wronged me?  The whole Nírnaeth Arnoediad was your idea, you and your "Union of Maedhros" or whatever you called it!  You as good as killed my father!"

"Is that what you think?" he asked in a wounded tone. "No..."  With some difficulty (he was, in fact, quite tall), he lowered his gaze enough to meet the much shorter elf's eyes.  "Ereinion...I am your father."

The silence that followed this statement was so tangible that one could have likely grabbed it out of the air and thrown it at someone.  Figuratively speaking, anyhow.  However, despite being thoroughly stunned, Ereinion's anger at the Fëanorian quickly returned, and he shouted, "How the hell are you my father?  High King Fingon was my father!  Unless..." A horrible thought popped into his mind, and he whipped the point of the forgotten sword back to its former position, poking it at Maedhros' shirt threateningly. "Did you have dalliances with my mother?  Against her will, no doubt!" His eyes widened. "You...you assaulted her!  And you probably killed her too, you Kinslaying bastard!"

Now it was Maedhros' turn to look indignant. "I did nothing of the sort!  You never even had a....erm...." He chewed his lower lip for a moment, looking uncomfortable, before finishing, "...Well, technically speaking, Fingon was actually your mother."

"WHAT?!"

Maedhros frowned.  "Now don't look at me like that, we were as surprised as you are.  One doesn't exactly expect something like that to happen in our circumstances, you know.  Indeed, we thought it quite impossible, but there you go."  He smiled a bit nostalgically. "Of course, it would have been quite scandalous for Fingon to keep you, considering he was not formally married, so we sent you off to Círdan.  We did call you "Scion of Kings," though, so that in some small way we might both be remembered as your parents."

Ereinion's mind was positively spinning, in a whirl of utterly absurd information and rather disturbing images, possibly the most bizarre of which involved one of the storybook-style pictures of the High King he had seen in his youth waddling around with a gigantic, pregnant stomach like the one Círdan's housekeeper currently had.  The world around him grew rather fuzzy as he struggled (and generally failed) to wrap his brain around what he had just been told, and he felt queasy and a little faint.

Suddenly, a strange sound filled the air, and Ereinion was snapped back to reality when he realized that Maedhros was laughing.  Head thrown back, body shaking, full, honest laughter.  It was actually rather frightening.  "Oh Eru..." He clutched his sides, struggling to get control of himself.  "You are awfully gullible for the heir to the Kingship of the Noldor, do you know that?  Can you not tell complete and utter nonsense when you hear it?  You are the son of Orodreth, of Finarfin's house.  I know you were young when he sent you here, but do you not remember your father at all?"

"...What?" Ereinion said, for what he belatedly realized was the second time in about a minute and a half.  "So wait...everything you just told me was not true?"

"Of course not!" Maedhros exclaimed, still fighting back laughter.

"Then why on earth would you say such things to me in the first place?" The teenage indignation returned, magnified by the fact that he felt rather left out of whatever Maedhros found so amusing.

Wiping at the corners of his eyes, Maedhros let out a deep breath and said evenly, "I do apologize.  A few days back, I heard one of my brother's men refer to the child Círdan was fostering as "Ereinion Gil-Galad, son of King Fingon."  The idea was so absurd, I had to come have a bit of a joke at your expense." He paused for a moment, the smallest of smiles lingering on his lips. "I actually have not laughed like that since...in a very long time.  It feels rather good."  Surveying the confused and rather righteously irritated boy in front of him, he asked, "Wherever did you get the idea that Fingon was your father, anyways?"

"Círdan told me..." He blinked a few times.   "Well, actually, what he told me was that I was next in line for the High Kingship.  I knew Turgon's only child was a daughter and that he would have no more since his wife passed, so...I assumed I had to be Fingon's."

Maedhros raised a copper eyebrow.  "But if you were the son of Fingon, the kingship would have passed directly to you.  Considering that it is now held by Turgon, I should think that would make it obvious that you are not."

"...Oh."  When Ereinion actually thought about it, that made a good deal of sense.  He felt rather silly, despite his lingering annoyance at being completely duped.  A moment later, another thought struck his mind and he asked, "But what about what you said about my name?"

"About 'Ereinion'?" Maedhros asked.  "I have absolutely no idea why Orodreth called you that.  I actually always thought it to be rather presumptuous, considering that one has to go back a good three or four generations in Orodreth's line in order to find any kings.  But then again, he was always a bit of a pretentious little prick, so I'm not exactly shocked."

Ereinion opened his mouth to protest the insult to his newly-discovered father, but it occurred to him that considering he actually knew almost nothing about him, it wasn't really worth the effort.  He also worried that if he did so, Maedhros might start laughing again and reveal that he was really the son of Morgoth, or a dwarf, or something equally nonsensical that under any other circumstances he probably would not have believed.  At this point, however, he was so mentally worn out that the taller elf could have probably convinced him he was the son of a tree frog, so he decided not to take any chances.

When Ereinion extricated himself from his own jumbled thoughts, he looked up and saw Maedhros turning to leave.  He struggled for a moment to think of something appropriately disgruntled to say, but instead realized he had another question.  "But wait, why did you find it so absurd for me to have been Fingon's son in the first place?"

Maedhros looked genuinely surprised, before his lips curled up into a tiny, enigmatic smile. "You...really can't guess?  After all that?"  He took in the rather blank expression on the younger elf's face, and said amusedly, "You really ought to tell Círdan to expand your education a bit.  If I remember correctly, he has a rather interesting collection of literature that you might find informative, even if you, like me, will likely never understand the appeal of beards. "  When Ereinion 's expression became, if anything, even more blankly confused, Maedhros shook his head, chuckling, and turned to leave. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Ereinion, Scion of Kings...whichever kings they might be."

As the tall, copper haired elf turned and walked away, Ereinion found himself wondering if he had gotten into the barrels of wine Círdan kept in his cellar the previous night, and was in fact having the most bizarre dream of his life.  When he had pinched himself (and smacked himself upside the head once or twice for good measure) enough times to convince himself that he was quite awake, he shook his head bemusedly and began to walk back towards Círdan's house, making a mental note to inquire about his literature collection as soon as he arrived.  He resolved himself to make an announcement that evening, to inform the entire settlement that he wished to be known as Gil-Galad from that point forward.  The name Ereinion just had too many potentially awkward connotations.

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Chapter End Notes

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