A Short Tale for Summer's End by StraightOuttaHimring

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Chapter 1

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Summer had descended upon Amon Ereb with a fury, bringing with it smothering heat and humidity. Springtime with its cool air heavy with the scent of wild flowers and new beginnings was, as is all too often the case with happy times, far too short. 

Maglor lounged under shade of the one, lone tree in the courtyard, his hair piled high atop his head lest it cling to his neck like some sweaty, black, spiderweb. Beside him, the twins were playing—albite somewhat lethargically—with the crude toy horses Maglor had tried to whittle for them. 

Maglor gazed at them. They would be turning eight, soon, and were already losing some of their soft babyish features. Maglor dreaded the day when they would no longer beg him for one more song before tucking them into bed for the night. The Peredhil grew all to quickly in Maglor’s opinion and soon their innocent childhood years would be behind them. 

Elros chose that moment to look over at him, grinning as he met his foster-father’s eye. 

“Ada!” he exclaimed, “Look—it is an ent horse monster. Be careful, it is going to attack!” 

Maglor laughed as Elros nudged his face with the wooden horse decorated in leaves and twigs, making terrible screeching noises as he did so. Maglor supposed he was trying to imitate a dragon, but in reality sounded more like a hungry baby bird. 

“Oh no, little one,” cried Maglor, “help me, I don’t stand a chance against a dreaded ent-horse!” 

He started when he heard another laugh from up—far up—above him. Maglor sat up, looking at his brother. Both the twins had stopped their play to cautiously observe him as well.

Maedhros had spoken little to the twins during the three years they had been a part of the Feanorians’ household. He had spoken little at all since they had lost Amrod and Amras. Maglor had tried to explain to the boys that his silence was not their fault, though he doubted it did much to soothe their worries. 

“I remember when you were a great warrior, little brother,” Maedhros teases.

“Yes, well, I was never asked to slay orcs and dragons in a blasted heat wave,” snipped Maglor. 

Maedhros chuckled, but did not argue. Elrond peeked over at him from where he had huddled behind Maglor. 

“What’s that big green thing on your shoulder?” asked Elrond with wide-eyed curiosity. 

“This,” replied Maedhros, hefting the large green fruit, “is a watermelon. I thought your ada and I could show you a game we used to play with our family when we were children.” 

The twins looked at him hesitantly. 

“What do you say, boys? I think I know what uncle Maedhros has in mind and it is exactly what we need on a hot day like this.”

“What is it?” asked Elros, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Well first,” said Maedhros laying down a towel on the flat ground, “we set the watermelon down on the towel. Next, whoever wants to go first puts on this blindfold. Then comes the fun part—we take turns trying to smash the watermelon with this stick. Whoever breaks the watermelon first, wins.” 

“What do we win?” asked Elros. 

“Glory to your name,” replied Maglor smartly. 

The twins stared in silence at Maedhros, who was looking more and more crestfallen as time wore on. 

“What do you say, boys?” prompted Maglor.

Elrond cast one more nervous glance at Maedhros before finally uncurling himself from his hiding spot behind Maglor. “I’ll go first,” he offered.

Maedhros tried to smile reassuringly at Elrond as he beckoned him over. “That’s the spirit!” 

Maglor smiled as Elrond patiently let Maedhros secure the blindfold one-handed. 

“There, all done,” declared Maedhros. “Now, spin around three times, and then try to hit the watermelon.” 

Holding the wooden staff carefully, Elrond spun once, spun twice, spun a third time and then brought the staff down hard directly on Maedhros’ foot. 

“Sshhining Stars of Varda,” Maedhros ground out amid Maglor’s hysterical laughter. He had shot his brother a warning look as he heard the profanity on the tip of his tongue, but his brother’s clumsy save only added to Maglor’s mirth. 

Elrond ripped the blindfold off. “Are you alright?” he exclaimed, eyeing Maedhros worriedly. 

“Aye, but by the Valar do you have a good arm,” exclaimed Maedhros. “Why don’t you put the blindfold back on and try again, only this time I will stand further back.” 

It took a few more rounds and a lot of laughter before Elros finally managed to crack the watermelon. By that time, the sun had climbed high into the sky and Maglor was more than ready to retreat back to the shade of his tree. 

“Mmmm,” exclaimed Elrond from where he was tucked into Maglor’s side, watermelon juice dripping down his chin, “melon water is so much better than regular water.” 

“Uncle Maedhros, aren’t you going to sit with us?” Elros piped up from Maglor’s other side. 

Maedhros started, looking in surprise at the trio. “Ummm… yes, yes I’ll join you,” he replied awkwardly. 

Much to Maglor’s amusement, he looked even more startled when Elros promptly climbed into his lap and offered to share his oversized watermelon slice. Maedhros glanced at Maglor, uncertainty written across his face. 

“They have gotten so big,” exclaimed Maedhros in wonder. 

“Childhood is a fleeting gift,” Maglor replied sadly. “Even more fleeting for Peredhil.” 

Maglor paused a moment, studying his brother’s features. The lines of worry, usually so deeply engraved on his handsome face, seemed somewhat lessened. Uncertainty aside, Maedhros looked more at peace than he had in years. 

“I’m glad you could join us today, brother,” said Maglor softly. 

Maedhros smiled softly. “I’m glad too. Maybe we can do this more often.” 

With one arm curled around Elros, Maedhros reached toward Maglor with the other. Maglor grasped his brother’s forearm and smiled back. Perhaps summer was not so bad after all.

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Chapter End Notes

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