Here's another one-shot, although this time it deals with the two surviving sons of Fëanor, and, of course, the Half-Elven twins!
Disclaimer: Everything in this one-shot piece belongs to the wonderful man, JRR Tolkien. I've just used the characters to satisfy my own whims. (Oh well!)
The sons of Fëanor and the Half-Elven twins
With a soft smile on his face, the dark-haired Elf-lord tugged at the sheets that lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. The two occupants of the bed; identical, dark-haired Elflings; did not stir as he pulled the sheets over their small forms, making sure to securely tuck them in for it was that time of the year where the night air chilled one's bones.
His task completed, he stood silently by the bed, blue eyes gazing fondly at the twins. It was true that the rest of his household tended to find the pair troublesome, with their childish antics, but, as he had informed the stable-hands earlier in the day, they were children, and so childish antics were to be expected of them.
"So this is what has been keeping you from your…other duties, these last two months," commented an all too familiar voice, causing the dark-haired Elf-lord to whirl around with an almost frightened expression on his face.
"…What are you doing here?" he questioned, as he moved slightly to the side, trying to obscure the two Elflings from the Elf's view –although he knew that it was probably too late for that.
The Elf moved further into the room, stopping when he was standing beside the window. The bright light of the night moon cast a white light on him, causing his deep red hair to shine as though it was made out of fire itself.
"It is nice to see you too, brother," he commented, somewhat dryly, as he fixed his light eyes on the two lumps on the bed. "Strange…" he murmured. "…For I do not seem to remember you getting married."
The dark-haired Elf paled.
"Neither do I," he said, softly, hoping that the conversation wouldn't wake the sleeping Elflings.
"Then the Elflings would be…?"
He shook his head at his brother.
"No one of importance," he said. "To us or…to our…Oath." The red-haired Elf-lord stared at his closest younger brother for a moment, before moving forward so he was standing closer to the other side of the bed.
A thoughtful expression found itself on his face as he stared down at the Elflings, immediately noting that they were twins. His light blue eyes widened slightly.
"They bear a striking resemblance to their mother…" he said, quietly, as he saw one of the Elflings stirring in his sleep. He only spoke again when the Elfling had settled down. "I must say, though, it is surprising that they survived." A shrewd light entered his eyes as he glanced briefly at the tensed figure of his brother. "Ah, but perhaps 'tis not too surprising." He paused.
"They were fortunate," he murmured, "to have been found by Maglor Fëanorion."
Maglor let out the breath he had been holding, making it sound suspiciously like a…defeated sigh.
"Listen to me, brother," he said, softly. "This…war is against those who possess the Silmarils. It is not a war against children, especially those who have lost both of their parents and the rest of their kin."
"But they are related to those who have disallowed us the opportunity to fulfil our Oath, and to free ourselves." The red-haired Elf-lord paused. "And they are the kin of those who have caused our brothers to fall."
Maglor shook his head.
"Our brothers fell, partly, out of their own greed." He shuddered as he thought of the ransack of Menegroth. "It was our fault –we should not have fought the son of Luthien Tinúviel."
"And we should not have left her grandsons to die," commented the Elf-lord, bitterly, as he thought of the brothers that his brother's servants had chased into the woods; woods which were perilous for the two young Elves. A saddened expression formed on his face as he remembered his desperate, albeit unsuccessful, search for them.
Maglor had a knowing expression on his face as he observed his elder brother's face.
"It was not your fault, Maedhros," he said, softly. "You did what you could to find them. Surely you do not think there was more you could have done?"
"I could have stopped our brother from ordering his servants to commit the horrid sin."
"If you had the foresight to see that he would act in such a...grievous manner, yes, you could have stopped him. But since you do not have the gift of foresight…there was naught you could do."
Maedhros, the eldest of Fëanor's seven sons, said nothing, choosing to stare at the sleeping tins instead. Maglor watched his brother, a somewhat apprehensive expression on his face as he did so. Would his brother ask for them to be thrown out? Or…would he order them killed?
He found that he was not particularly fond of either option.
"What are their names?"
He blinked in surprise.
"Elros and Elrond."
"Ah." Maedhros was silent again. "The Valar will show them their two choices, later in their lives."
"Aye." There was a foreign light in his eyes. "Eärendil shares the blood of the First and Secondborn. As does…as did Elwing, for although Díor was Luthien's son, he was born to her after she accepted a mortal life, as one of the Secondborn. And, of course, Elwing's mother was of the Eldar."
"There is no need for a history lesson, brother," he said. "I know." Maedhros raised his eyebrows at him.
"Then did you know that the Valar would present them with the choice of being Elf or Man?"
"…Elf or…Man?" Maedhros nodded.
"As they are now, they are Half-Elven, Peredhil, for they share the blood of the Secondborn as well." He shook his head. "The Valar will later let them choose which race they wish to be a part of." He turned back to his brother. "You did not know this –nay, do not try denying it, for I know you and I know that you cannot lie. Tell me, Maglor, when the day comes for them to make their choice, what will you do?"
Maglor stared at his brother, a somewhat distant expression on his face. "What will you do should they choose to remain as part of the Firstborn?"
"I will continue to keep them here," said Maglor, softly. "And to assist them in any way I can." Maedhros said nothing, although he noted, somewhat sadly, the clear attachment his brother had for the twin Peredhil.
"And if they choose a mortal life and lifespan?" A twinge of guilt shot through him as he saw the unreadable expression on his younger brother's face. He knew that he was being utterly insensitive in asking these questions, but he also knew that he had to; he had to show his brother the possible pain that lay ahead, in the future, both for him and the twins, when the time came for them to make their choices.
For if one of them were to choose a mortal lifespan, so would the other, if only out of love and fear of losing his other half.
"I…" Maglor paused. "I…think, I think that-"
"-Leave it, Maglor, I did not intend to make you answer me." Maedhros shook his head. "But I would like for you to think about it; what will you do when the time comes?"
"I…see." Silence descended once more, as the two Elves stared at the Elflings with different expressions on their faces.
"It is, perhaps, a good thing that we are the only remaining sons of Fëanor," commented Maedhros, suddenly.
"For I do not think our other brothers would take too kindly to the fact that you are raising the sons of the 'enemy'…"
Maglor lowered his eyes.
"Aye," he murmured, a shudder running down his spine as he thought of their younger brothers' possible reactions to the twins. "But all the same…they are dead…"
A heavy silence fell upon them once more, although this time, the brothers were haunted by memories of their brothers and their deaths.
"Have you decided what you will be teaching them? How many hours of work will you make them do? And what will they be allowed to do in their free time?" Maedhros paused for a moment, to glance at the twins. "Judging from their size, I would say that it is a good time to train them on horseback…teach them how to ride –starting with ponies, of course."
Maglor blinked a few times as his brother went on, naming other things to do with the Elflings and their education. Soon, a smile had formed on his fair face as he watched the eager expression on his brother's face. He was acting in a similar manner to how he had acted with their younger brothers –always thinking in their best interests.
"I think," he said, realizing that Maedhros had stopped and was staring expectantly at him. "That your suggestions are nearly perfect." He smiled at the eyebrows that shot up at his choice of words. "But first, do you not think that you should be introduced to them? They would not have too much fun with learning to ride when they are strangers to their instructor."
It took a brief moment for realization to dawn on Maedhros' face.
"Instructor? Riding instructor?" He shook his head. "Nay, I cannot. I would not be the proper choice. One of your stable-hands will do. In fact, I will personally select one myself if you-"
"-You are one of the best riders of our House, Maedhros, so I would prefer it if you were to teach them." Maglor smiled, somewhat innocently. "Besides, it was your idea……"
A scowl formed on Maedhros' face, before it was replaced by an impassive expression.
"I will not be able to help them, Maglor," he said, quietly. "What kind of instructor would I be, with just one hand?"
Maglor glanced down at the hand his brother held up, taking in the bandages that were clearly wrapped over the wrist, where the stump was.
"I do not think it will matter, brother," he said, after a while, not taking his eyes off his brother's.
"I have not yet seen you being rendered useless by your missing hand, which means that you can carry on without it." He sighed. "You will be the best instructor I can give them, Maedhros. Why not just give it a try, and then stop if it is too…difficult, or awkward?"
Maedhros stared at his brother for a moment, before glancing at his arm.
"The Peredhil will be frightened by this…" Maglor smiled.
"Give them a chance, brother," he said. "For you do not know that for sure."
"You are stubborn, little brother."
"I believe that is a trait our dear father passed down to each of us." With a muffled snort, Maedhros leaned down and absently stroked the head of the Elfling closest to him. The child stirred, before sighing in his sleep, a tiny smile on his face.
"See, brother," started Maglor. "Elrond likes you already." Maedhros rolled his eyes at his brother, although he did not remove his hand from the Elfling's head, much to Maglor's amusement.
"Sleep well, penneth."
Another one-shot completed! The reason why I believed that Maedhros wouldn't know about Maglor taking in Elrond and Elros is that while Maglor was dealing with the twins, Maedhros was going after Elwing, who had the silmaril that he wanted. And Maglor, deciding to rescue the twins, would have been somewhat afraid of his brother's reaction to his behaviour, and therefore would have kept the twins' presence secret. But of course Maedhros wouldn't be so cruel as to order them killed! (I love Maedhros, if you haven't guessed already!)
Anyways, that's it for this one-shot!
Hope you liked it.