Drabble Twenty-Two: Down the River
"Ada?"
Maglor smiled at the little elfling beside him. "What is it, Elros?"
The young Peredhel snuggled up against the older Elf's side. "Why does Uncle Ros go down the river all the time?"
The Fëanorion's grey eyes narrowed as he subsided into thought, leaning back against the tree with one strong arm about the elder twin's shoulders. Maedhros had disappeared early that morning, as was his wont, to the river, and he had caught the twins watching as his older brother pushed his boat into the current and leaped in. Maedhros had done this every day for as long as he could remember. In some way the river seemed to bring him comfort and peace, especially since Sirion.
"That is a difficult question, little one," he started hesitantly. "Your uncle has always loved the sea, and now that he has been taken from it, perhaps he goes down the river to get as close as he can... I cannot say for certain."
Elros seemed to think about this for sometime, playing with the fastenings on Maglor's tunic. Then he announced, with all the intelligence of the very young, "I think he is lonely."
"That may well be," Maglor replied, surprised at the child's perception. "You could tell him you are his friend – perhaps that would help."
Elros considered for a moment. "If I did, would he not leave for the river?"
Maglor sighed a little. "I think not, little one. Perhaps for a time he will stay. But the sea is in his blood, and since he cannot have that, the river brings him comfort that we cannot."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boat draw up in the reeds and his brother leap nimbly out.