Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Wish I did.
It was raining heavily. An autumn storm had chosen the middle of the night to unleash its fury. Lightning flashed into the small candlelit room, causing Maedhros to look up sharply and Maglor to pause in playing his silver harp.
"This storm will continue for a while," Maedhros remarked.
Maglor resumed running his fingers over the strings of his harp. He gave no indication of having heard his brother. After a while, he murmured: "...Yes, I suppose it will."
"Are they asleep?" asked Maedhros.
"They should be. I put them to bed about three hours ago. Do you think the storm will have woken them?"
"I would not be surprised if it had. We were frightened of storms at that age – as were our brothers."
Maedhros' long fingers gripped the edge of his chair when he said that last word; the melodious notes coming from the harp faded away.
"Let us see if they are awake."
The brothers left the room, and began to walk up the stairs. When they were halfway up, a new sound came to Maglor's ears – one that made him stop where he was and listen intently. To the ear of a Man, it would not have been audible over the thunder and the rain – but to an Elf's, it could be heard all too clearly.
It was the unmistakeable sound of a child crying.
Maglor hurried up the stairs, his dark hair gleaming in the torchlight. He reached the room where the two small captives were; turning the door-handle, he opened the door silently and slid into the room.
Two small white beds were placed side by side in the darkened room; two little black-haired heads were resting on pillows. One was perfectly silent, sleeping soundly under the warm cover. The sound of smothered weeping came from the other bed: the elfling's face was hidden in his pillow, as though he was trying to make sure nobody heard him cry – not even his twin.
The sight and sound went straight to Maglor's heart.
Elros had succumbed to emotion some days ago, and had crumpled into Maglor's arms, sobbing miserably. But Elrond had not shed a single tear since he and his brother had been brought from the ruins of Sirion; his quiet voice and solemn eyes hid a fierce internal struggle.
Maglor wondered if this was the first time the child had shed unhappy tears when he thought he was alone.
Stepping quietly, so as not to wake Elros, he made his way to the nearer bed and lowered himself cautiously onto it. Very gently, he placed one hand on the back of Elrond's head. The elfling did not flinch, or shy away. Encouraged, Maglor stroked the mass of black silk as soothingly as he could. It was a tactic that had often worked on his younger brothers when they could not fall asleep – and, indeed, on Maglor himself.
You are so strong, little one.
He continued stroking, but the muffled sobs did not cease. The white pillow was wet with tears.
Carefully, Maglor peeled back the cover and gathered Elrond up, wrapping him in warm arms. Just at that moment, a loud clap of thunder burst through the clouds. Elrond jumped and buried his face in Maglor's shirt, one small hand grasping the material.
Maglor quickly glanced at Elros' bed, to check he had not been startled awake by the noise. He had not. Maglor's attention was swiftly brought back to the shaking little body he held.
"Oh, little one," he said tenderly as he rocked Elrond back and forth. "There, there, you are perfectly safe. I will not let harm come to you. You are safe with me."
The combination of the arms around him and the gentle motion of being rocked had the effect of gradually calming the elfling down. As the tears slowly dried and the trembling ceased, Maglor softly began to sing a lullaby in his melodious voice. Slowly but surely, Elrond's breathing became deeper and he surrendered to sleep, his head resting against Maglor's shoulder.
Maglor continued to hold the child as he slept. This quiet little creature and his impetuous brother had found their way into his heart; he had told them many times that they were safe with him, that he would not hurt them or let harm come to them – and he had meant every word.
The twins may have been captives, but already they were coming to mean more to him than mere hostages or bargaining tools.
Maglor looked up to see his brother standing in the doorway, his form a shadow in the torchlight. He did not know how long Maedhros had been watching; nor did he care. He smiled at Maedhros, then – still holding Elrond close in one arm – turned the pillow over so the dry side was up.
"I think I will stay with them tonight," he whispered, "just to make sure they sleep well."
Before he could place the child back in bed, Elrond unconsciously snuggled a little deeper into Maglor's arms.
"They are learning to trust you," Maedhros said.
"Yes. It would seem they are."
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