Sirion by Grundy

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A Brand New Day

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When Elrond woke, he was startled to see that the sun was shining and the day was beautiful. Somehow it felt wrong for it to be such a lovely day when Lalwen and Nellas were dead and naneth was gone. He was not sure why, but he did somehow believe Makalaurë’s assurance that in this case gone did not mean dead.

No, Nana was gone like atar, which meant it might be years before they saw her again, though Makalaurë had not explained why she had gone. He wondered what would become of him and his brother now.

A moment later, he noticed that the ground underneath him was moving.

Sitting up abruptly, he almost smacked into Glinwen, who was cradling a bowl of oatmeal in her lap and eating with the air of one who is not fully present.

“Good morning, Elrond” she said, but her smile lacked its usual warmth – it seemed somehow false, as though it was only pasted on her face to cover unhappiness. Her voice sounded hollow.

“Where is Elros?” he demanded urgently.

Glinwen looked startled by the question, and a second later, Elrond understood why when heard Elros-sized snores. Looking behind him, he found his twin wrapped snugly in several fluffy blankets, fast asleep.

He himself had been ensconced in a blanket nest of his own, he realized. In fact, it was only in sitting up that he realized how cozy it had been – he pulled several still warm blankets back around himself, as the air was chilly.

“Awake, little prince?” asked a friendly voice.

The strange elleth was speaking Quenya. He had heard it spoken by some of the Gondolindrim, and Aunt Lalwen had begun to teach him and his brother to say some of the words, but Sindarin was the tongue of Sirion. Elrond had already learned that most there did not care to hear the tongue of the Exiles.

“Yes, thank you,” Elrond replied carefully, hoping conversation would not be necessary. Though he understood a good deal more than he spoke, what he could say was only simple courtesies.

She called out to someone he could not see.

Looking forward, Elrond saw that he was riding in a partially covered wagon. It might have been fully covered earlier, as the land around them showed signs that it had been raining. But now that last night’s storm had blown itself out, the canvas had been raised so that the sides were open. He could see a river in the distance, and green fields. He had never been outside the Havens before, so could not guess where they were, much less where they were going beyond ‘northeast’.

There was an elleth he did not know driving, with another sitting armed at her side, ready to protect the driver should the wagon be attacked. Many elves, mostly male, but with a few ellith sprinkled here and there, were keeping pace with the wagon on horseback.
Clearly their cousins were not waiting for Uncle Celeborn and Aunt Galadriel. Elrond did not care to think on why that might be.

A few moments later, the smiling elleth was handing Elrond a bowl of oatmeal of his own. He was surprised to find that there was even a dollop of honey and a sprinkle of raisins in it, just as he liked it best. He wondered how they had known. Glinwen did not seem to be in a talking mood, so he doubted that she had told anyone.

“We hope you eat happy,” the elleth explained, her Sindarin pronounced so carefully that Elrond realized that she was no more comfortable with his cradle tongue than he was with hers – though she clearly knew more Sindarin than he did Quenya.

“Thank you,” Elrond stammered, fretting that he did not know enough words to properly return the gesture of using the other’s language. Such things were important. He knew that from mother and Aunt Galadriel. And it was probably even more important now.

He had not wanted to say so to Elros last night, but he knew that Maedhros and Makalaurë were two of the feared sons of Feänor. They were cursed. He’d heard Aunt Galadriel discussing them with Aunt Lalwen once.

He did not understand why the pair had been so kind to them last night, even if it was true that they were cousins – which he supposed might be right, for Aunt Galadriel said they were her kin, and Aunt Galadriel was also kin to their father. But being cousins did not necessarily mean that they were safe to be around. After all, the reason the sons of Feänor were cursed was because they were kinslayers.

So it was very important that he and his brother be well behaved. He had always felt perfectly secure with Aunt Galadriel and Uncle Celeborn, or Aunt Lalwen. Though they might be sent to their room, or otherwise punished for mischief, actual harm was out of the question. But who could say what kinslayers might do to badly behaved elflings?

At least, that was what Elrond thought at first. But he began to notice things that confused him.

For one thing, he could clearly see both Makalaurë and Maedhros at the head of the column. The elf who had brought the bowl of oatmeal to the elleth who spoke Sindarin had ridden faster to catch up to them, and as he spoke to them, Elrond saw that both brothers turned to look back at him. Maedhros’ expression was hard to read, but Makalaurë gave him an encouraging smile, which only grew when he began eating.

As he ate, Elrond paid more attention to his surroundings. He noticed that the mounted elves were shifting as they rode, switching positions so that they all got to have a turn riding closest to the wagon, catching a glimpse of Elrond, Elros, and Glinwen. While they were all armed, Elrond knew that no one travelled unarmed in Beleriand. There could be orcs – or worse – anywhere. He had heard more than enough of what could befall the unwary traveller. But the elves riding around them, armed though they were, seemed curious and even happy to see them.

Weren’t kinslayers grim, fearsome elves who would kill you as soon as look at you? Elrond didn’t see how elves who tucked you into blanket nests and brought you oatmeal with honey and raisins could be kinslayers. Kinslayers wouldn’t look so pleased to see elflings, would they?

Kinslayers killed elflings. Nana had been furious when she discovered Thranduil telling them what had happened to the elflings of Menegroth who had not escaped as Elwing had. (Elrond very much regretted having asked. Elros had dared him.) The twins had been marched off to bed by Tirniel and Glinwen while their naneth gave her older cousin a dressing down that Nellas later chuckled would have done Thingol proud.

Elrond tried to make sense of everything he was seeing, and found he could not. Maedhros and Makalaurë were kinslayers beyond a doubt. The elves that followed them must be also, for even together with their dead brothers, the two of them could not have destroyed mighty Menegroth themselves. It would have needed many more than six elves. Logic – and his tutor often praised him for being such a logical little boy – said that he was surrounded by elves of the most dangerous sort.

But if they were such fearsome killers, why had these elves taken such care to bring clothes and toys for him and Elros? He could see their packs from the previous day, and more besides, stacked neatly at the rear of the wagon. Even Glinwen seemed to have her own clothes and things brought for her, so it wasn’t just that he and Elros were being well treated as kinsmen or even as princes.
He chewed absently at his lip as he tried to readjust his worldview to accommodate cousins who were kinslayers but still took good care of elflings.

“Bad doing!” said another cheerful voice from just outside the wagon.

Elrond didn’t recognize the elf, but Glinwen seemed to, because she lunged at Elrond, pulling him close to her.
The elf looked startled, calling to one of the other elves nearby. He shook his head, and cautiously reached out to chuck Elrond’s chin gently, just below the lip.

“You will hurt,” he said, sounding unsettled by Glinwen’s reaction.

“Oh!” Elrond exclaimed, suddenly understanding what the elf had been trying to say at first. “You meant ‘bad habit’!”

The elf’s face brightened, and he nodded, grinning.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Bad hab-it. You stop!”

“That’s what my aunt tells me,” Elrond sighed, deciding after a slight hesitation that it was probably more polite not to tell an older elf he was saying a word wrong.

Glinwen burst into tears.

Now it was Elrond who was startled, and he looked from Glinwen to the grown elf in confusion, unsure why she was crying.
Elros chose that moment to wake up, and seeing Glinwen crying, flung himself at her in concern, hugging her tightly. When her tears only increased, Elros began to tear up as well.

Not knowing what else to do, Elrond hugged Glinwen also, asking her as nicely as he could not to cry, and assuring her everything was all right. He wasn’t completely certain that was true – he still was worried about his naneth, and troubled by the kinslayer issue – but he was feeling a bit more confident that they were safe, and they were being looked after and fed properly, so things couldn’t be too bad.

When Glinwen’s tears only increased, Elrond felt as if he might cry himself. If only nana was not gone, she would know what to do…
For a few moments there seemed to be far too many elves he did not know about, all of them talking, and all of it Quenya, far too much at once, until a shout restored order.

Elrond saw that his cousins had dropped back to find out what the commotion was. The other elves were speaking to them, too rapidly for Elrond to follow even had he recognized all the words, gesturing first at him, then at Glinwen, and finally at Elros.

Makalaurë maneuvered his horse close enough that he was able to lift Elrond from the wagon easily. Another elf passed one of the blankets Elrond had been wrapped in, so that Elrond found himself seated securely in front of his cousin and wrapped as warmly as if he’d still been in the wagon. Makalaurë put a reassuring arm about him as if he were well used to dealing with upset young elves.

Elros was passed to Maedhros and similarly wrapped, while the elleth who had brought Elrond's breakfast climbed into the wagon to try to soothe Glinwen, whose sobbing was subsiding into messy sniffles. Other elves on horseback were still milling about, looking as though they would have liked to help if they could only work out how.

At a command from Maedhros, they returned to something more like a normal riding order, and the entire group continued on their way. Elrond worried about his brother for only a moment, for it seemed that getting to ride on Maedhros’ spirited horse quickly cheered him, as did the unexpected novelty of being able to eat breakfast while riding.

Elrond found himself watching his brother wistfully, for he seemed to be having the time of his life.

“Are you well, young Elrond?” Makalaurë asked him after a few moments.

Elrond was a bit embarrassed, but couldn’t help confessing the truth in the face of his cousin’s clear concern.

“I do not think I like riding,” he admitted quietly.

The motion was unsettling. He would much have preferred the wagon, but Glinwen still looked very unhappy, so he was certain he would not be allowed back yet.

“You have not been on a horse before?” Makalaurë asked, sounding surprised. “But-“

He changed his mind and left whatever he had meant to say unspoken.

Elrond ducked his head, feeling still more embarrassed. Was this another thing that a young Noldo should have known, like reading?

Makalaurë said nothing more, but Elrond noticed that the horse slowed, and as its stride changed, the motion became more bearable.

“The stable master was trying to find us a pony to begin learning,” he explained, a touch defensively.

It wasn’t poor Rochendil’s fault that there was little call for an animal small enough for young elflings to ride – the next youngest elf in the Havens was Glinwen, and she ventured from the queen’s house no more often than the twins. The other ‘young’ elves had been nearly adult height.

“There is no shame in not knowing something you have had no opportunity to learn,” Makalaurë said gently. “I daresay we will also need to find a pony or two. I am sure we have none at Amon Ereb. And I think you may enjoy riding once you have been taught how.”

Elrond felt a bit better at that. He had never liked the feeling he sometimes got from Aunt Lalwen that he was disappointing her. And if there was no shame in not knowing things, surely there should also be no shame in asking questions…

“Will Glinwen be all right?” he asked, still concerned for his friend and confused at her reaction to a gesture kindly meant.

“I am sure she will. Glinwen is still upset at some of the things she saw yesterday,” Makalaurë told Elrond reassuringly. “And it seems she is frightened of Peneldur. The first time she saw him, he was in full armor, and he is so much bigger than she is that she might have been startled even if he could speak Sindarin.”

“He does speak some,” Elrond said truthfully. “He was trying to tell me to stop chewing my lip, like Aunt Lalwen always does. He just did not know the word ‘habit’ is all.”

“Ah,” Makalaurë said, as if this somehow explained everything. “Perhaps you could tell Glinwen that when she is feeling better. I think we will leave Nyellië to take care of her for a little while.”

“Nyellië is the elleth who brought our breakfast?” Elrond asked, hopeful that he might learn names. It was easier not to be scared of kind, smiling elves with names than nameless Kinslayers.

“Yes, she and her brothers followed my younger brothers when we came here,” Makalaurë explained. “She has long missed the little sister they left in Tirion. She will take good care of your friend. In the meantime, you will ride with me.”

So he did. As they rode, Makalaurë pointed out not only other elves riding with them, who all smiled as they were named, but also birds and trees, naming them in both Quenya and Sindarin so Elrond might begin to learn the tongue of his father’s people.