Surrogate Jewels - Chapter Nine
Interlude




The Elf-lord sat silently and waited. When no movement could be seen and no sounds had been heard for long, he leaned forward. "Peredhil?" he asked in a whisper. One head turned towards him slowly, dark hair pooled against the gray pillow, illuminated by the moonlight.

"Ah, you're still awake." Maglor smiled, and sat back.

The child, instead of nodding, quirked the corner of his mouth into a weak smile. Weak indeed, and the sum of all the strength he possessed.

"It's your turn," Maglor went on.

"But my brother is asleep," the child said, uncertain.

"You may sing it alone," Maglor encouraged.

"I'm too tired..."

"But it's you favorite verse!" Maglor leaned forward again, and cradled the child's hand, ignoring its frailty. "Come, I will sing it with you."

It did not take long for the small hand to go limp, and the voice that sang so weakly fall back into silence. Try as he might, Maglor could not bring himself to continue the song alone. Quietly he rose, and pulled up his quilt to rest under the Peredhil's chins, and left. He walked with heavy steps to his own bedchamber, oblivious to the figure watching from the darkest end of the hall.

Inside, one child threw down his arms, freeing his neck from the thick blanket. "I hate when he does that."

"What?" asked a drowsy voice.

"Tries to bake us," the other panted.

"He's trying to be nice," Elenion countered hesitantly, then added, "But I'm cooking too."

"He treats us like weaklings," Eldahir continued to complain, then quickly stilled his voice.

Maglor might indeed treat them like weakling, but the brothers could not deny that they deserved as much. It was understood between them that abundant energy and youthful vigor were things of the past. Often they were carried, and seldom did they run or laugh. Worst of all, they seldom noticed the change.

"We could try to escape again," he said suddenly. "Maybe that would... help."

"I doubt it," his brother replied.

Eldahir thought for a long moment, as weariness tugged familiarly at his consciousness. But he fought to stay awake. "What's wrong with us?" he asked dully, halted by a yawn. "We used to... want things. But I've never been so tired as now, and sleeping never helps anymore. I feel like I'm-" lack of a proper description caused his silence.

"Sinking," his brother added thoughtfully. "Falling, fading... I know, I feel it too."

"We should try escaping again, just once more," Eldahir said determinedly. "We made it so far the last time, before we gave up."

"And we gave up because it was no use. It's still no use."

Eldahir sighed, turning his head to face his twin. "Do you not want to go home still?"

"Of course I do," Elenion said, his eyes closed. "But I'm too tired now." He blinked his eyes open, and studied his brother. "We agreed to make the best of things here."

"Only because we thought it would make us better. But we're still getting worse."

"Was better, for a while..."

"Elenion, wake up!"

Elenion's eyes had fluttered shut again, and he did not correct the mistake. "I'm too tired to argue. I don't want to fight."

Eldahir sighed, and watched out of the window for a while. The difference for him between sleep and wakefulness was so vague, that he did not realize when the stars were lost to the blue sky hours later. Nor did he pay much heed when a chambermaid entered the room, and sat him and his brother up in bed, and began to dress them for the day.

Eventually he sat at a breakfast table, his thoughts still bent on those of the previous night, and his mind still watching out of the bedroom window.

"Here, your juice, child," someone spoke.

"Very well," Eldahir thought he replied.

"Have some breakfast, child," was said next to his ear, and he was vaguely aware of someone cutting fruit for him on his plate.

"Very well."

"How well did you sleep, Peredhil?" questioned a voice that might have been Maglor's.

"Very well," he replied, or Elenion did, or no one. Thinking on it, Eldahir decided it mattered not, and his eyes eventually focused on a mural across the dining hall. Later, after he was carried to the library, it took his mind twice as long to catch up until he actually saw the book under his eyes. And that night, the story he heard told in the early afternoon finally emerged in his recognition.

"Elenion, every story ends, right?"

No reply came.

"Elenion, wake," he shook his twin. "Every story has an ending, does it not?"

"I suppose," his brother finally murmured, and turned towards his brother, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Why?"

"Are we a story?"

"What?"

"If we are like a story, maybe ours is over, and that's why we feel ended." Eldahir took a deep breath, and looked down to his brother. But his eyes were by then vacant in sleep, and suddenly Eldahir forgot what his thoughts had been, and without him noticing any passage of time the sun again rose, and so began another day.

***continued***