Baby Maedhros by Cirdan

Baby Maedhros

Read Baby Maedhros

Someone mentioned to me recently that there are no baby fics of me. At most, there are pre-pubescent fics. There are baby Maglors but no baby Maedhroses. I don't think this is entirely true. Surely there's at least one or two. But let me kindly add to the overwhelming number of Maedhros fics.

The world was silver when I entered, and I was blinded by the light. It seemed to me that my father sang to my mother and me, but I would later learn that all his words were like music. He took me in his arms and cleaned me with a towel. Then he wrapped me in a clean blanket, kissed me on the forehead, and handed me to my mother. I would never forget the feel of their spirits at that moment.

Actually, there's probably other things that happened that I don't remember. What I do remember is probably built upon hearing this story from my mother many times. My delivery became famous. Between inventing the alphabet and making the Silmarils, my father didn't just actively hate and plot against Fingolfin. That came after Morgoth was freed. Father would be the first man to be present in the room while his wife gave birth. Not only that but he had studied midwifery and acted in that capacity for the delivery. When it became obvious that I was causing complications, my father performed what would today be called a c-section. It was a technique that he'd invented and perfected for horses, but I think it's fairly obvious that he'd developed it for my mother.

My father's been portrayed as a demanding father, a neglectful father, an incestuous father, and sometimes even as a good father. Before any variation of that, he was a new father. Whether or not you believe in conscious conception, even if I had been an accidental teen pregnancy, my father wanted me. And I was a beautiful baby. My parents were overjoyed. I was loved. That's that.

I was probably only a few days old when a celebration was held for my birth. A very big celebration. I've never been a father (except in some rather creative fanfics), only an uncle or godfather at best. Unsurprisingly, that also means that I've never been a grandfather. I can't fully understand it, but somehow being a grandfather is different from being a father. A father's certainly proud when his child's born. For some reason though, a grandfather is proud in an entirely different way, in a way that I would hazard to say is even stronger than that of a father. I was the first grandson of the first High King of the Noldor. As you can surmise, I was very loved by him, and the celebration that he held for me was incredible (as were my subsequent birthday parties).

All the Noldor followed my antics. My grandparents loved me. My parents loved me. Even my half-uncles and half-aunts loved me. Whatever tension existed between them and my father, they certainly melted to the sight of an innocent baby. However else you choose to interpret the later parts of my life, my days of infancy were blissful.

When I first crawled upon the snow white carpet of my room, my father crawled after me and we both laughed when he caught me and kissed me. My mother held my hands as I took my first steps. I remember my paternal grandfather holding me high up in the sky and then bringing me down and hugging me. I remember my maternal grandfather poking the musical mobile above me and smiling when I giggled.

Isn't that the nature of growing older? We become filled with more memories, but the days of our early youth, regardless of their moments of difficulty, remain the best of our lives. Only in our infancy do we receive unconditional love. Only in our innocence can the world seem bright and blessed.