Two months by maeglin

| | |

9/16 Elven

On family trees.

Amon Ereb, YoS 545

 

Maedhros strode into the room where his brother’s foster sons worked on the problems their tutors assigned them.  Given their youth, it was still mostly a play room, but during lesson-hours their various toys and games - sadly few in number, yet still a great luxury on Amon Ereb - remained stacked neatly on the shelves opposite the window.  Elrond, however, had recently announced to everyone who would listen that the room was now their "study", which had drawn smiles from the adults present and frowns of protest from his twin.  Now the boys were both bent over their figures, but one, he noticed, was not performing the task set to him.

"So, Elros, have you solved the problem?"

"Yes, Uncle!” The boy beamed. "If you can carry three packets of lembas, but must make a journey that would require four packets of lembas to return home without starving, you have to prepare for the journey by leaving caches along the way. You will need two additional packets of lembas on the journeys where you set up the caches. So, the total is six packets of lembas."

The famous “lembas” problem dated from the Great March, which had required the invention of both lembas and supply lines, but very few of the Noldor were able to solve it before the age of twenty or so, and the twins were only thirteen.  The boy showed promise…

Elrond’s frown indicated he had not yet solved the problem. 

"Do not be troubled, Elerondo.” the elder said gently. "It is a difficult problem.  Even your Uncle Curvo had not yet solved it at your age."  

Of course, this was true only because at that age Curvo had spent most of his time chasing Moryo and Turko all over Tirion, and the rest of his time alternately astounding and annoying the rest of his family.  A few more years had passed before Feanaro showed him “lembas,” which Curvo then solved within less than a thousand heartbeats.  But Elrond did not need to know that.

The boy gave the slightest pout before turning on his twin, saying "But, what, brother, if someone steals the caches? Will you not then starve?", and then proceeding into a sulk that even Turko would have been hard put to match.

Maedhros knew better than to confront an angry child — especially one that was, however much he might wish otherwise, not his own — too soon.  I will speak to him in an hour's time, he thought. 

Elros, however, now looked confused. “Uncle, he is right! You will starve, will you not?" 

So soon to have to worry about such things, he thought sadly. Already the boys must learn to think of supply lines, rather than playing in the gardens and forests as he had at their age - but here they were, where war and the need to evacuate on short notice were far more than theoretical concerns.

"Yes." he said gravely, "You must set guards on the caches, and the guards must eat, but that is a problem you will not solve in an afternoon. Elrond saw this, and you may find you need his advice in such things. Do not forget that he saw it before you, and that you work best together. But enough of that!  I see you have set your mind to something else.  Tell me about it and then we will go find some dinner.”

Elros looked at the figures he had been working on — a sorry mess of lines they seemed now.  Embarassed, he blurted out "The others call us ‘Half-Elves’, and it's not right!"  

Elros’s hands then flew to his mouth before any more traitorous words could escape.  Elrond pulled out of his sulk so quickly he almost fell over, and looked upon his twin with the “You’ve done it now!” expression so universal to young children that had the situation been otherwise, Maedhros would have laughed aloud.

But it was not “otherwise.”  The boys knew well by now that if there was one thing not allowed on Amon Ereb, it was complaining about one’s fate or one’s lot in life.  When half or more (and for many, far more) of one’s own family and friends had died - or worse - trying to secure what little prosperity and safety they still possessed, when more continued to die - or worse - every year, for southeastern Beleriand was well-nigh overrun, and when one’s own Lord was missing a hand and covered in hideous scars, yet still stood firm and never uttered a word of complaint, well … 

Even so, the boys were only thirteen, Elros was clearly very sorry already, and Elrond was now clearly praying to any Vala listening that he would still have a living brother come sunset.  Maedhros therefore measured his response.

“Few in this city can claim greater lineage than you and Elrond.  What are a few words of scorn, against that?”

Elros was clearly frightened, and half-squeaked.

"No, it's not that. I am proud of my forefathers. But I'm not Half-Elven!"

The elder frowned - was the boy in some sort of denial? "How so?", he asked.

"If my blood were divided into sixteen parts, the Elvish parts would be ten."  Elros exclaimed proudly. “They should call us 'Five-Eighths Elven'. Elrond agrees,” he said, looking accusatorially at his brother.

This was not the response Maedhros been expecting.  It was, it was … and his laughter filled the room and the halls beyond.  Half those on duty smiled at this rare gift - laughter was all too rare in Amon Ereb these days.  The other half wondered whether their Lord had finally gone mad.

“I see my brother has been neglecting your poetry lessons! We will have to amend this!”

But first, a secret had to be revealed.  The twins had not yet been told the true nature of their great-great-grandmother Melian. It did not do to tell children they were part divine - this tended to go to their heads. Even being one-quarter Maia was no protection against swords, as the astonishingly arrogant Dior had learned, too late. But it seemed the boys were now ready for it…

"And how do you conclude that ten of the sixteen parts of your blood are Elvish, penneth nin?  Four come from your father who now sails the skies, so how many from your naneth?" 

He had found that openly discussing the twins’ true parentage was the best track - it allowed the tragic details of their endings, especially Elwing's, to be left unspoken.

"Six, of course!", the boy responded. "Four from Daernaneth Nimloth, and two from Daeradar Dior."

"No", Maedhros replied, "One from Dior."

Elrond immediately protested, "But Dior was truly Half-Elven, as our Star-Adar was.  Therefore two from Dior."

"No again. Dior's blood was less than half Quendi, for his daernaneth Melian was not an Elf as she seemed, but a Maia." Shock transformed the boys’ faces as the elder quickly continued; "Therefore you are nine-sixteenths Elven, three-eighths Mortal, and one-sixteenth Maia. Perhaps I shall decree that you two are now to be known as Nine-Sixteenths Elven." he concluded grandly, feigning gravity.  “Should I issue the decree?”

Elros looked around for a way to escape. Stern and kingly his Ada’s brother now seemed, and surely his answer would be important. "No, Uncle, well, let's ask Elrond, but I don't think he would like it either. I guess Half-Elven will have to do."

The Lord of Amon Ereb grinned, and the many cares that beset him vanished, at least to to a child's eyes. "So, now that we have decided how you shall be known ever after, let's find my brother and dinner.”

 

Chapter End Notes

Elrond and Elros' grandparents were the Elves Idril and Nimloth, the Man Tuor, and the 1/4-Elf 1/4-Maia 1/2-Man Dior. The six-packets-of-lembas is a reference to a simple case of the famous "Jeep problem" - the age-old problem of how many supplies are required to make a journey longer than one can carry supplies for. The Elves would surely have considered this by the time of this story, very near the end of the First Age. Elrond and Elros, being brilliant (and part-Maia!) could work this simple case out while still quite young.

Table of Contents | Leave a Comment