The Greycloak's Foster-Sons by Kaylee Arafinwiel

Chapter 1

FA 472, Doriath, Midwinter

Lord Brandir knew how much his youngest daughter disliked court functions. Yet, she had agreed to attend this feast with him, in Celepharn’s absence; Siliveth had come as well, of course, but he found it comforting to have Neldiel by his side. She had pestered him with questions, as though she were an elfling again, and Brandir had only given her a weary smile. “Iel-laes,” he said softly. “Hush. In time, your questions will be answered.”

Neldiel had not, if her expression was anything to go by, taken well to being told to hush like an elfling. Yet she had quietened, and when announced, he entered the feasting hall with his wife and daughter on either side. His elder daughters had not been invited, which grieved him, but Elu had found their marriages unacceptable. He rather resented his foster-father for that. Still, Brandir supposed, it was the King’s right to invite whom he would to his feasts – even at Midwinter.

When they reached the King’s table, and took their places, Brandir was surprised to see a place set between his own and the King’s. Ever since Lúthien and Beren had removed to Tol Galen, he had sat at his foster-father’s right hand. But now, not only was there an extra chair, but it was higher than his own – as if to assist an elfling to sit at the height of the adults. And when his foster-parents entered, they were not alone. Walking just before them, between two guards, was a boy – a Mortal child of perhaps seven or eight winters. He had raven-dark hair, and his blue-grey eyes were clear and intelligent, seeming to speak of a wisdom beyond his few years. The boy’s guards were Mortals as well, and they assisted him to climb upon the stool to his place. He heard the child announced as “Túrin son of Húrin Thalion and Morwen Eledhwen, foster-son of Aran Thingol,” and his eyebrows rose sharply. Why on Arda would his foster-father choose this child? He took the boy’s measure, gazing thoughtfully at him, before raising his eyes to Elu’s. The child was intimidated, but pretending not to be, he could tell that, so instead of looking at the boy, he looked directly at the King.

“You certainly waited long enough to give me a brother, Adar,” he said drolly. Elu’s eyebrows went up, and Melian gave Brandir a knowing look, seeing what game the ellon was playing. Túrin, meanwhile, stared openly at Brandir.

“You want me for a brother…my lord?”

“Well, it seems only right, as Adar will foster you as he fostered me. What do you say, little one?”

He was rewarded with a bright smile, and the shadow Brandir had felt encroaching on the child vanished – for the moment. Brandir sighed in relief. That could have gone far worse.