And They Looked Up and Saw a Star by grey_gazania

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Chapter 4

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Elros was soon dressed in clothes which, although clearly hand-me-downs, were clean, comfortable, and warm. Maglor had taken him by the hand and was leading him around the fortress, showing him the places he would need to be able to find.

 

"My youngest brothers were twins, you know," he said, his deep voice tinged with sadness. "If I needed to speak to them about something that had them upset and I tried to do it while they were together, neither of them would listen to a word I said. Maybe you and Elrond are not like that, but then, maybe you are. What I have to tell you now is important, and I don't want to risk either of you ignoring it."
 

He came to a halt under the eaves of the storehouse they were passing, putting himself and Elros out of the wind. "You are safe here," he said. "I don't expect you to believe me now, but I will say it as many times as you need to hear it. My brother and I and our people will not let any harm befall you."

 

Elros frowned, looking up, up, up at Maglor's bright eyes. "You say that, but when we tried to run away and Galwen caught us, she pinched Elrond so hard he still has bruises," he said. His voice was quiet and shaking, but he made himself keep speaking. "She hurt him because she was angry. And you killed Nana because she wouldn't give you what you wanted."

 

Maglor's face darkened, and Elros’ remaining determination was swept away by a wave of fear. He flinched, certain that he was about to be struck – or worse – but when Maglor spoke, he realized that Maglor's anger wasn't directed at him.

 

"Galwen won't do that again," Maglor said firmly. "I'll make sure of it. And you'll not see much of her in general. She spends more time on patrol than she does here at the fortress."

 

Slowly, the man knelt down, and Elros was finally able to meet his gaze without craning his neck.

 

"I'm going to take care of you and Elrond," Maglor said. "And I promise, you will not be harmed. You may bring anything that you need to me, and I will see to it. The only thing I ask is that you not trouble Maedhros – not because he would ever hurt you, but because he has many responsibilities and is very busy."
 

I don’t believe you, Elros wanted to say. But he had exhausted the last dregs of his courage and he was alone, unable to borrow strength from his brother. All he could do was nod and hope that that would be good enough.
 

When Maglor stood and took him by the hand once more, he followed his captor without protest.

 

***********

 

Maglor declared that Elrond and Elros needed time to adjust before starting their schooling, so that afternoon they were turned over to yet another new face, an adolescent girl called Ólloth who sat spinning as she watched two young boys at play.

 

“Nelmir,” she said, once Maglor had left the room. “Arthoron.” The boys looked up from their painted blocks, and Ólloth gestured to Elrond and Elros. “Lord Maglor has brought you two new friends. This is Elrond and his brother Elros. They’ll be living here at Amon Ereb with us now.”
 

Her voice was calm and her expression placid; it was impossible for Elros to discern how much she knew about the circumstances of his and his brother’s arrival. Nelmir and Arthoron seemed to take her words at face value, and they both smiled shyly at the newcomers.
 

“Hi,” Arthoron said, pushing a few of the blocks towards Elrond in a silent invitation.

 

He was Taraharn’s grandson, Elros remembered, and part of him wanted to turn away, to shun the descendent of a Kinslayer. But Arthoron didn’t look any different from Elros’ friends back home, and his smile was genuine.
 

Elros exchanged a silent look with Elrond and saw his own feelings mirrored in his brother’s eyes. Slowly, together, they inched nearer to the boys and joined in their game. Neither spoke much, but Arthoron and Nelmir didn’t seem to mind; in fact, Nelmir talked enough for all four of them, chattering away about anything that crossed his mind. He seemed content with only the occasional nod or shrug from his new friends, and Elros couldn’t help being relieved. He didn’t want to answer any questions about why he was here. He didn’t want to think about why he was here, not if he didn’t have to.

 

Eventually Ólloth brought her charges down to the hall for a supper of unfamiliar stew, made with a meat that Elros didn’t think he’d ever eaten before. It was warm and filling, but he found himself missing his mother’s fried sea trout with a pang.
 

Against his will, he started to cry.

 

Maglor set his own spoon down before pushing his chair back from the table and rising. “Bedtime, I think,” he said, gently scooping Elros up in his arms. Elros couldn’t find the energy to struggle, and he closed his wet eyes and rested his head on Maglor’s shoulder, allowing himself to pretend for a moment that it was his long-absent father who held him and not one of the men who had murdered his family.

 

Soon he and Elrond were tucked together into bed. Elros was still crying silently, and Elrond nestled closer to him and glared up at Maglor.
 

“Go away,” he demanded.

 

Maglor hesitated, but ultimately decided to comply, and Elros relaxed a little against his brother as they were left alone.

 

Slowly, both boys drifted off to sleep.

 

***********

 

Maedhros couldn’t sleep.

 

That wasn’t unusual. In truth, he spent more nights awake than he did in slumber, for he was often plagued by bitter memories and harrowing dreams. The people of Amon Ereb were well accustomed to their lord pacing the darkened keep at night, his restlessness driving him from corridor to corridor on silent, unshod feet.
 

Tonight, his wandering took him past Elrond and Elros’ room. The door was ajar, spilling the dim light of a candle into the hall, and he paused to peek inside. The children were huddled together in their sleep, shivering beneath their woolen blanket, and it suddenly occurred to him that being part mortal likely made them more susceptible to the cold.

 

He couldn’t bring their mother back. He couldn’t undo what he and his people had done at the Havens of Sirion. He couldn’t restore his own brothers to life, nor could he fulfill his thrice-damned Oath. But the cold, at least, was something he could fix.
 

There were extra blankets stored in a cupboard near the kitchens, but they were plain things. Better to give the boys something with some color to it. Perhaps that would help them feel less like the prisoners that they truly were.

 

He returned to his rooms and knelt before the weathered cedar chest that stood at the end of his bed. Folded away at the bottom was a quilt, a many-textured whirlwind of reds, golds, and browns. Parmacundë had made it for Caranthir, her husband, when he had followed Fëanor to Formenos. It had been the only possession that Caranthir had spared room for when he had his people had fled from Thargelion during the Dagor Bragollach, for he had treasured it more than any gem – perhaps even more than the Silmarils themselves.

 

It did no one any good hidden away, and it was warm and beautiful. Maedhros gathered it up in his arms and walked down the hall to the twins’ bedroom.

 

Elrond stirred as Maedhros draped the quilt across him and Elros, his breath hitching and his grey eyes widening with fear when he saw Fëanor’s eldest son towering beside the bed.

 

“Go back to sleep,” Maedhros whispered, bending over to tuck the quilt under the end of the mattress. “It’s a long time till morning.”

 

He left the room without waiting to see if Elrond listened. Surely the boy would sleep more easily without one of his captors nearby.