In Imladris, I have heard a song said to have been written by Maglor the Minstrel. He was one of the greatest singers the world has ever heard-- or hears, for none will say when or whether he has died, or if he still wanders the world singing laments of those terrible days. In the Common Speech, it goes something like this.
Two stars, born of blood and fire
One cool wisdom, one fierce desire
Thou in the cave with mist on thy face
Thou diving fearless in the swirling place
Where the waterfall breaks. The prophet reads chances
In the fall's jewelled curtain, while his brother dances
With foam in his hair. There they are found
In cave and in pool, to different fates bound.
As ever, mortal words cannot encompass immortal memories. But so it was. Maglor named the quiet one of the pair Elrond, in memory of that vaulted grotto, and what name he held before I do not know. The other boy was called Elros, "star-foam", from the freshet where he sported without fear of being dashed against the rocks, young as he was. It was Elrond who insisted on êl, the ancient word for star, by which he and his brother were to be linked and severed forever. I wonder if, when it came to naming his last-born child, Elrond knew in his heart of hearts that Arwen would never have a share in that star's blessing.
But I am telling the beginning, not the ending of this family's story. Elrond's parents were gone. His brother still lived. But the twins were hostages of one of the Sons of Fëanor, and could not have expected any better from him than their folk had received at Sirion and Doriath. It would take time for Maglor to show to what extent he was willing to stretch the chains of the oath that bound him.
Maglor kept them among his own company, riding back towards Himring whence they had come. The host was subdued. They had not found the Silmaril they had sought, only blood and death and slaughter. They had damned themselves a third time and come up empty-handed. Surely they now knew themselves accursed. They had left the bodies of many of their number rolling in the long-enduring waters of Sirion. What prize had they to bring home from their struggle? Two freakish boys, born of mixed parentage, the peredhil. I do not think that name was first bestowed as an honorific.
Maglor, however, shielded them. He had never married or risked bringing the curse of his family on the heads of children, but the curse had already touched these two boys. Yet they almost seemed not to know it. Their innocence, when he found them playing by themselves beside the river, had profoundly moved him. He was determined to do what little he could to atone for his crimes against their family. Unfortunately, he had not counted on the stubbornness of Elves redoubled by that of Men. Elros, at least, would not make it easy for him.
Riding in the company of the Noldor, the peredhil were not shackled or confined; there was no need. Marauding orcs often attacked or prowled behind the host, spying on the movements of the Sons of Fëanor at their master's bidding. Stragglers would be dealt with swiftly. Young Elros was of a mind to ride out and fight them, knowing he would die but wishing to shame his kin's murderers. But his brother was able to dissuade him. Elrond would not leave his side, nor would Elros lead his beloved twin to his death. So he suffered to remain with the host. However, he would not touch their meat or food. Day by day Elros grew weaker, albeit slowly, for their strength was more than that of other mortal Men.
At length, Maglor came to Elrond in despair. "Your brother will not eat! Make him see sense. The fire is leaving his eyes, and I do not know what you are, mortal or immortal, but I know that even the blood of a Maia is not proof against death in these accursed mortal lands. Can you not do something?"
"You cannot wash away the blood from your hands by saving him and me," the boy pointed out gently. "My brother will do as he will do. We miss our parents very much. If they are mortal, as your soldiers say, then there is only one way to find them. If they are not, this way will suffice."
And from that Elrond would not be budged, but neither was his heart more or less troubled to see the thin shadows touching his brother's cheeks. He was waiting.
"For what?" Elros demanded of him, watching him break bread with Maglor, who seldom left them alone.
"For a star."
