Title: What Should We Do?
Warning: AU – Desperate Hours AU
Series within the AU: Tales of the Lost Twins
Summary:
In year 500 of the First Age, King Dior of Doriath and his wife Nimloth were blessed by the birth of their twin sons, Elured and Elurin. In 506, the sons of Feanor ended their world, and Elured and Elurin disappeared from the historical record. What if the tales told by the wood-elves are true? What if the twin uncles of Elrond Peredhel had survived, safe and anonymous amongst the secretive Nandor of the forests? In this story, a group of village elders discuss what should be done with two foundlings, during the first age.
A/N: This chapter takes place in 507 of the First Age, some short weeks or months after the Fall of Doriath, in the forests of Ossiriand.
Title: What Should We Do?
In a village in the forests of Ossiriand, where the reclusive Laiquendi, called wood-elves, made their home, a small group of village elders sat down to discuss the problem posed by two young elflings, found wandering alone in the snow by the village's hunters.
"What in Eru's name should we do with them, Neirin?" The village weaver and eldest elder, an elleth with fawn colored hair, asked in mournful dismay.
"What can we do, Dilys my dear, but take them in, of course." Neirin, the village carpenter and blacksmith, replied firmly. Neirin was nearly as old as Dilys, and both had known Denethor, before the Laiquendi became leaderless in the wake of his death.
"Well, of course we shall care for them, heal their poor hurts and see them well again." Dilys replied, as if she was afraid Neirin, though a capable ellon, might be a little slow this day. "But we can't keep them."
"Why not?" Replied Dilys' son-by-law Bedwyr, a healer. "My lass Eirian is just their age, so is Neirin's great-granddaughter Serenwen. Be good for them to have some company in the village, and these two little lads are such nice elflings. You'll see, they'll be right as rain soon enough, running around and playing as elflings should."
Dilys sighed, and wondered if all of the male Laiquendi in their region of Ossiriand had gone mad that day. "We can't keep them because they're not ours." She said slowly, "I have no doubt that they, personally, are very good elflings. But they are not OUR elflings."
"You're afraid." Fion, the village's finest hunter, and trainer and leader of their milita, observed softly. "They're just elflings, Dilys, it makes no sense to fear them."
"Its not them Dilys fears, its these." Bedwyr, who had seen to the hurts of the poor elflings, drew out the jewelry the two young ellyn had been wearing. Each young boy had borne several rings on his tiny fingers, the most ornate of which had two names engraved in a delicate, ancient script on the miniscule band. Great skill had carved the names; Elured on the sapphire ring, Elurin on the ruby ring. Each elfling had also worn a necklace like a noble lord's chain of office, semi-precious stones linked by a golden chain. The clasps of each bore the engraving, "a gift of Turgon, delivered by the talons of the Eagles."
Fion raised an eyebrow. "Heirs to Doriath, which exists no more. Of interest, evidently, to King Turgon of Gondolin. But Gondolin cannot be found. I'd say these elflings belong to us as much as anyone." Fion was already invested in the elflings. He had been the leader of the hunting party that found them, impressed by their endurance and faith, having followed the beasts all the way from fallen Doriath to within ten leagues of their village.
Dilys sighed again. "There must have been survivors of Doriath, kin who would claim them."
Neirin shrugged. "King Dior and Queen Nimloth both died. Little Princess Elwing and the silmaril they were killed for, are together, being cared for by retainers of Dior's, at the mouth of the River Sirion. But nowhere on Beleriand is safe, these days. Particularly not anyone in connection with something so coveted by the sons of Feanor."
Fion, Bedwyr, and Dilys considered that. Neirin often knew things before he should. His granddaughter Heddwyn, though the youngest of the elders, was the most reliable predicter of fair or foul weather in their village.
Heddwyn herself added in the distracted tone that usually indicated a true prophecy, "They will die if you send them back to their family. The Kin-Slayers will come again, and they will be warriors, not elflings. These twins will not be shown even the scant mercy they received this time, exposed to the elements. They will be killed."
Dilys sighed a third time. Heddwyn was an elleth, but Dilys should have known better than to expect her to be sensible. Heddwyn was the sort to bring home a wounded wild cat, and train it to hunt rabbits. True, her pets had never attacked anyone, but there could always be a first time. It just wasn't natural.
"They might bring war here, someday." Dilys felt compelled to argue further. She was losing, and she knew it. The twin elflings were adorable, and special. Her heart had been won over as well, though she felt compelled to play the role of responsible adult.
"War is coming, whether we want it, or not." Bedwyr argued. "The attacks by orcs increase yearly. I, for one, will not stand by idle again, if our kindred make an alliance and stand against Morgoth."
"We can teach them what they need to know, Dilys." Fion argued. "You and Neirin and Heddwyn can teach them reading and writing and figuring; I can teach them hunting and weapon-craft; and Bedwyr and his apprentices can teach them basichealing. When they come of age, we can teach them whatever trade appeals."
"Very well." Dilys had known this was a losing battle. "But no one can know who they were, whose children they were. We shall not even tell them, until they come of age. They are young enough, and traumatized enough. They will quickly forget any life but this."
"Agreed." Stated Neirin firmly. "They're safer, and better off, away from all that, as elflings. When they come of age, they can make their own choice."
"They shall be Elboron and Eldun; no longer Elured and Eluin." Bedwyr suggested, adding "I will tell Eirian and Serenwen. They are taking turns keeping the elflings company; and they chatter constantly. By the time they are well, the poor boys will be calling themselves Elboron and Eldun."
And so it was.
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