Disclaimer: Everything recognizable belongs to Tolkien. Veryafion belongs to Serenlyall, who has graciously allowed me to borrow her. Gwaereneth belongs to me, as do any other unrecognizable names. The Daeron mentioned in this story is in no way the one mentioned in the Silmarillion, nor is he from Doriath.
Time Frame: After the Sack of Sirion, but before the end of the First Age. I know at this time the twins were probably younger than I am making them, but I feel as though any younger age would feel wrong in the story. I will reveal why in later chapters. As for the reference to Himring, since there is no clear statement that says it was actually abandoned by the Sons of Fean̈or, I am going to use it as one of the locations in my story, and pretend it was still inhabited at this time. Mithlond was part of Lindon, which was ruled directly by Gil-galad, and I am assuming he would travel to Ost-in-Edhil to see Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, since they were distant kin. Ost-in-Edhil was part of Eregion, so if I swap back in forth between the two names I apologize.
A/N: I am going on the assumption that the twins are at least fifty-six at this time. It is never really stated when the twins returned to Lindon or how they returned, so I am going to mix a little bit of revenge into this story to suit my purposes. Nothing too serious though, and it won't be for a few more chapters in the story. I will leave a warning when I think things are a little bloody. This is my first time writing a story that has angst in it, so it might not be very good. But...better late than never, and I have been wanting to write this for a while now.
Gil-galad was troubled. For many months he had been receiving strange reports. Reports of orcs and wargs being killed, the corpses piled and burned, but no patrol was taking credit for it. No patrol knew what was going on. And now he was meeting with his councilors, captains, and friends to try and figure out what was happening. The whole group was baffled to say the least.
"Maybe it is just a group of men, passing through who decided to make it easier to travel." A captain suggested.
"Only the sons of Fean̈or and their followers pile orc corpses and burn them." Círdan the Shipwright commented. "And they have not strayed from Himring in many years."
All fell silent, remembering the Sack of Sirion and the unknown fate of Eärendil's sons. When the forces from Lindon arrived to aid Sirion, all that was found was the streets covered in blood and the dead and dying, houses in flames, and no sign of the twins. The dying were unable to say what had happened, and there had been no sign of Elwing, either. None had survived.
Gil-galad frowned then. He had never met the twins, and was saddened that he never would. Círdan had met them, taught them how to swim and make the knots used on ships. He was still grieving for the bright-eyed, dark-haired twins that loved to swim and play. They had been little terrors that wouldn't sit still unless told to do so, and even then they would fidget and twitch. The twins had been a joy to be with; their love of his stories made even the harder to tell stories a bit easier in the telling. Círdan's grief was still there; a shadow over his eyes that no amount of hiding could make go away. All those that knew him well, which there were few of, could recognize that grief as belonging to not knowing what happened to the twins and not being fast enough to save them. Not even their bodies had survived the inferno that had destroyed their home.
"Whatever or whoever is doing this, they should be stopped. They are a danger to the patrols and anyone else passing through." Thawon commented in his bad-tempered way. He was a councilor that was known for not tolerating the sons of Fean̈or after what they had done to Doriath. He was a lucky survivor who had made his way to Lindon. Unfortunately, he had not been fond of Elu Thingol or Melian either. He was loyal to the line of Finarfin, but could not tolerate anyone that wasn't a pure-blooded elf, making him very biased and hard to count on to be diplomatic to the men and dwarves that often came to the city.
"I doubt they are a danger, since they are only attacking the orcs when they venture to close to the paths the patrols take when on horseback." Galadriel commented softly. She and Lord Celeborn, her husband, were visiting from Eregion for a time and would most likely stay for a few years. They were eager to help the king in any way possible.
"Still, my Lady, would you take the risk that the ones doing this are just preparing themselves to get ready to attack a patrol? Perhaps it is some of Maglor and Maedhros' followers who have been ordered to attack the patrols." Thawon argued.
"Would you take the risk it is some people trying to do good in the world by helping our patrols?" Celeborn asked softly, but with steel in his voice. One did not easily get away with arguing with the Lady of Light.
With those words, the dam was broken and out poured a steady stream of arguments from every corner of the room. Círdan's face was passive, but Gil-galad could read the troubled look in his eyes. They met each others eyes and agreed to meet later in the king's study.
Gil-galad could see an argument brewing, and so held up his hands. When that didn't work, he quietly stood. Still no effect. He surveyed the room, his temper mounting.
"ENOUGH!" He finally bellowed, slamming his hands down on the table. Everyone jumped, including Lord Celeborn. Lady Galadriel looked as though she had been expecting this and wasn't the least bit surprised. Quiet immediately came. Gil-galad then looked about the room. "I cannot believe that you are all squabbling like small children over a toy." He said, enough venom in his voice to make protest die before it could even get started. "Whoever is doing this has not harmed our patrols," staring at Thawon as he said this. " Or done anything even remotely resembling what the sons of Fean̈or are capable of. Even though the burned corpses suggest them, no one from Himring has approached Lindon in years. Therefore...I do not believe that the ones responsible are from Himring. There are a number of other reasons that could account for the burnings, none of them related to the sons of Fean̈or."
One of the captains, Heledhon, asked almost shyly, "What would you like us to do, your Majesty? We could increase the patrols-"
"No." Gil-galad cut in. "I want them to come out of hiding by themselves, feeling as though they can trust us to not overreact to their presence in the woods."
Heledhon nodded. He understood the need to let the Watchers, as the patrols had named them, feel that they could trust them not to react badly to their presence. Any more patrols would make it harder to find them. The Watchers had been named thus because some of the members of patrols sensed they were being watched from the treetops or close by, depending on the circumstances. Whenever someone went up the tree in question, there was no one there, and the tree refused to reveal who or what had been there moments before. No amount of coaxing could convince any of the trees to reveal who or what it was.
"Heledhon." Gil-galad's voice cut through his thoughts and drew him back to the presence. Looking around he could see the entire table staring at him, making him realize he had lost himself so much to thought he had not realized he had been addressed many times.
"I apologize, my King, my thoughts were elsewhere." Heledhon apologized quietly.
"Obviously." Thawon muttered under his breath, garnering glares from the other captains. Thawon wasn't liked by many, and the captains least of all for his opinions of their methods. Thawon had never been a warrior and so didn't understand the captains tactics.
Gil-galad ignored him for the moment, even though a slight glare promised repercussions. "What do you know about the ones you call 'the Watchers'?"
Heledhon thought for a moment. "Well, my King, many of the patrols have sensed them, but no one has been able to actually see them. The trees will not reveal who they are either, no matter what we say to try and coax the information out of them. All they say is they will not reveal the Watchers yet. Recently however, the Watchers may have left something behind." Everyone looked up with interest at this and even the guards at the door seem to lean in a bit. "On a recent patrol, my group and I came across a pile of burned corpses. In the nearby area we found the remains of the fight. It was a large group of orcs, no one could have escaped unscathed. My King-" and here Heledhon hesitated. "We believe that there are only two Watchers."
There was an explosion of sound. Only this time, it was quieted by the king simply standing. Heledhon nodded at the king. "There was only signs of two people other than orcs in the clearing. There were only two sets of tracks not belonging to orcs. The tracks were almost non-existent, as though the Watcher's are skilled in woodcraft. There was blood that didn't belong to orcs, and signs that someone had been thrown against a tree. We found hair caught in the bark."
"Do you have it with you?" Faneth asked. She was a very pretty elf with eyes the color of robin eggs and wavy, flaming red hair that went below her waist. She was one of the master healers. It was well worth mentioning that whenever Heledhon looked at her he turned misty-eyed and blushed deeply, which was what happened then. All he could do was nod and pass over a small cloth bundle, not taking his eyes off her.
Faneth took the bundle and opened it. Inside were several strands of coal-black hair. She took them in her hands and examined them closely. After a few minutes, she put them down, a puzzled look on her face. "These hairs are too long and straight to belong to a man-"
"So it is an elf?" Thawon cut in.
"Not quite." Faneth said. There was a stirring in the room. "They are too coarse to be from an elf, but too soft to be from a man. And they aren't dwarvish hairs."
"So that means...?" Lord Daeron asked.
Faneth looked nervously over at Lord Círdan, who seemed to be extremely interested all of a sudden. "It means that whoever these hairs belong to could have mixed blood, or has not had a chance to bathe recently. I do not know."
Gil-galad had also seen Círdan, and even though he hated to, he had to say it. "There is a chance that this isn't Eärendil's sons, Lord Círdan. It has been too long with no word from Himring about their fate. I wish for them to be alive as much as you do, but maybe it is time to move on." With those words he chanced a look at the Mariner.
Círdan looked at him as though he couldn't believe what was just said to him, then he abruptly stood and left. All watched him leave, then Lady Galadriel turned back to the king with a question in her eyes. The king nodded and she rose to go after him. Lord Celeborn stayed behind.
The king heaved a sigh at his words, and all looked back to him. "Heledhon, Barhador, Belegon. Please organize the patrols as always, with no difference from before."
The three captains nodded and left, bowing at the door. Heledhon and Belegon would leave on patrol for a few weeks then return, as always. Heledhon's eyes lingered on Faneth for a moment and then he left as well. She pretended not to notice. The king then turned to the councilors and lords. "You may all go, but Lord Celeborn please stay. Lady Faneth, you stay as well."
When only Lord Celeborn and Lady Faneth remained, Gil-galad let out a defeated sigh. "I made a mistake, didn't I?" He asked no one in particular.
"You did not, mellon iaur." Lady Faneth said softly. "Lord Círdan has been holding onto hope for so many years, perhaps you saying what everyone has been thinking for years caused the wound to reopen a bit. You know he feels guilt as well as grief over the twin's fate."
"I know, but I have a feeling I may have chased him away with my words."
"Again you are wrong, penneth." Gil-galad couldn't help but smile. Only Lord Celeborn and Círdan ever called him that. "Círdan has never had children or a family. The twins were, in their own way, his sons as much as Eärendil's. He taught them things a father should teach them, and he wishes more than anything to know what their fate was. Seeing the burned out shell of their house wasn't enough to convince him that they were dead. I now fear that only seeing their bodies would be able to convince him that they are truly dead."
Gil-galad nodded. "Thank you for your words my friends, but it will take more than words to reconcile with the Shipwright. If there is one thing he is, it is stubborn. He won't let me apologize and make amends until he is ready."
The other elves nodded. Gil-galad looked from one to the other. "Well, now that has been accomplished, there is one more thing, Faneth."
Faneth looked completely baffled. "What could that be, my lord.?"
"Heledhon." The name was all that was needed to cause a small blush to form on her cheeks. "I noticed he couldn't take his eyes off you and blushed in much the same way you are now when you asked him a question. Do not torment him so...speak with him."
"I..I..I can't..." Faneth stammered.
"You can, and you should. He is tormenting himself because of you. Do him the favor of showing your interest. Do not try and deny it old friend, you are interested. Show him that you have feelings for him as well. He acts as a sailor without a compass and no heading when you do not speak to him or ignore him." Lord Celeborn stated.
"I do not know how." Faneth whispered quietly.
"Do what your heart tells you, my Lady. It has not steered you wrong before." Gil-galad said. Faneth nodded, knowing his words to be true. One time, he had been seriously wounded on a journey from Ost-in-Edhil to Lindon. He and his escort had been attacked by orcs. He had been separated from his Guard, captured and tortured before the guards could rescue him. The poison that was used on him, though, only sped up when the guards tried an antidote that would normally nullify the effects of most toxins. Upon arriving in Lindon, the other healers had despaired, but Faneth had remembered an old trick and had gone ahead without the Master Healer's consent. The trick had worked, but she had been scorned by the Master Healer and forced to receive a demotion. The king thought that she had been extremely brave and said so. He also was not impressed by the Master Healer not trying to figure out a solution to the problem as Faneth had done. The Master Healer was not impressed, but allowed her to keep her rank.
"Do as your heart bids, Faneth." Gil-galad stated. "It cannot steer you wrong."
Looking between Gil-galad and Celeborn, who was nodding vigorously, Faneth knew he was right.
Many miles away, two beings, wearing cloaks and hoods the color of the forest, watched from the treetops as a patrol passed by. They did not move, did not speak. Not even the trees whispered that they were there. All they did was watch. Watch...and wait for the time being. Their horses were well hidden, waiting patiently. They needed help, but were uncertain how to go about asking for it.
Translations:
Mellon iaur – old friend
Penneth – young one