Lost Youth

Chapter Two

All disclaimers etc in the first chapter.

Thanks to Nemis for betaing this.

It's good to see that I'm cementing my reputation for evil with this fic *g*

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Círdan crept into the room, already clad in his ceremonial robes. He had not been able to find the elflings in their rooms and guessed that they would be in here, as they were. The two tiny bodies were curled up under the sheets, their dark heads close together.

The floor was still strewn with a mass of tunics which no one had had the heart to clear up. An old sword was propped in the corner, and a book lay open upon the desk. The whole chamber was redolent of the deceased High King, which was, of course, why Elrond and Elros had sneaked in here.

"Come now." He reached out for to touch their shoulders. "It is time you were up."

Elros merely grumbled and buried his head in the pillows, but his brother sat bolt upright.

"It is today?"

"Aye. Galadriel and Celeborn will be here soon, and then…" He did not need to finish his sentence. Then there would be the funeral. Afterwards, the last surviving adult of the House of Finwë, except for the two accursed kinslayers, would formally take up the protectorship, ruling in Elrond's stead until he came of age.

Already the Shipwright fancied that he could see the new responsibilities graven in Elrond's face. He had always been the quieter of the twins, but now fresh sombreness seemed to shine in his eyes.

"Elros." The Peredhel shook his twin. "Wake up."

"D'n't w'nt to."

"Get up, you lazy slug!" Elrond was becoming exasperated, the resorted to tugging at his brother's hair.

Finally Elros emerged from the sheets, rubbing his eyes blearily.

"'Tis too early."

"Not today, little one."

The child's eyes widened in remembrance and then filled with ready tears. "Oh."

~*~

Galadriel sat straight on her horse, her white mantle flowing round her.

//Do not fear, my love// Celeborn said in her mind, but she was not calmed. Certainly, she had come to Middle-earth to rule, but her youthful imaginings had never included this.

//A peredhel babe as liege-lord of the Noldor in Middle-earth! To what depths we have fallen … And can I hope even to preserve his kingdom until he comes of age?// She was not given to self-doubt, but the idea filled her with a foreboding which she could not pin down. //Yet something tells me that he must survive…//

"Then you must make sure he does so," her husband replied out loud. "Now look – they await us."

Círdan stood slightly in front of the grieving crowd; he was flanked by the peredhil. The two boys were dressed identically in robes of deep blue velvet, not yet embossed with their own arms, but with the myriad stars which Gil-galad had borne. Their hands were bunched into fists by their sides and their faces showed signs of recent tears.

"Hail, Masters Peredhil; hail, Lord Círdan and people of Balar." Galadriel was wise enough not to greet Elrond with his new title; that unpleasant business would come later. "It is a sad day which brings us here."

"Sad indeed." Círdan bowed deeply. "Shall we proceed?"

The simple, unadorned coffin was brought out, and they formed a solemn procession behind it, wending their way to the highest hill on the Isle of Balar, where Ereinion Gil-galad would be buried, facing the West from whence his ancestors had come with such high hopes of victory. As befitted her new position, Galadriel found herself walking behind the young High King who was rubbing at his eyes in a desperate attempt to quell his tears.

Unfortunately, he was so immersed in this melancholy task that he did not notice the small rock which lay in his path, and he tripped. Instinctively, Galadriel reached out her hand to steady him. A flash of power as bright as lightning, as pure as the light of Anar on the sea, coursed up her arm, along with something less definable, the merest glimpse of a lord, tall and wise … She recoiled in shock.

The boy looked up at her quizzically, but she shook her head and gave him a wan smile which he returned with a moment's hesitation.

At long last they stood by the freshly dug grave. All Elrond's childish composure deserted him and he began to sob softly, gripping Elros' hand so tightly that his knuckles whitened. The twins watched in mute horror as the brief words were spoken and their foster-father was lowered into the earth. Only then was the eldest child shaken from his stupor.

"He was greater than all of us," he said with surprising maturity. "But most of all he was our Ada …"

"Long may his star shine," Círdan muttered as Elrond buried his face in his tunic, his shoulders shaking.

~*~

They stood in the main hall of the palace, surrounded by grim-faced Elves and, here and there, a scattering of Men.

"It is my solemn duty to announce," Círdan proclaimed, "that Elrond Eärendilion is now High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth." He handed the crown to the quaking boy, who placed it on his head, trying to keep the circlet from slipping down around his ears. There was no shout of acclamation; no rejoicing at a new hope, for those who were assembled saw little promise in this coronation, and had scant faith in the boy-king whose ears were being slowly bent over by the crown.

Once Galadriel had formally assumed her office, they settled into their places. Elrond shifted uncomfortably in the central seat, reaching out for his brother who sat on his left hand and avoiding the curious eyes which gazed upon him.

"Why do you not eat?" Elros asked. "The stew will make you feel better."

"I am not hungry." His twin twisted his fork between his fingers. "And anyway, I cannot eat with a stupid lump of metal on my head."

Galadriel reached over and plucked it from his head, careful not to touch him, afraid of her own forebodings.

"No one will mind if you do not wear it."

Taking it from her, he placed it carefully in his lap and asked, "Does this thing really matter so much? It was important when Ada … I mean Lord Gil-galad … wore it, but I am only a child. Would it not be better to forget about it?"

"That may be so, yet it may not be, young peredhel." She eyed him speculatively. "And it may yet be that the fate of all these lands is bound up with that crown."

~*~

Galadriel, sleeping only lightly in her new chambers, was woken by wails of terror. She sat up in bed alongside Celeborn, waiting in the silence. The desperate cries rang out again and she heard in them a note which suggested that they belonged to a child. Throwing a shawl over her nightgown, she hurried down the corridor. She found one door slightly ajar, a dim light spilling out into the passageway.

Pushing the door open, she saw Elros kneeling before his brother, begging him to awaken. For an instant, she thought that yet another tragedy had occurred, before she reminded herself that it was to be expected that the half-elven might sleep with their eyes closed.

"He will not wake," the younger twin whimpered.

"No Ada … please do not leave me … Elros, no, no, no!" The sound rose to a crescendo then died away as Galadriel moved to sit on the bed. Without thinking, she pulled the terrified boy to herself, smoothing his dark hair, and the impression she received was stronger this time – power … wisdom … sadness … perilous deeds … yet a broad smile and the sound of happy laughter … blond hair shimmering in the sunlight …

Although she did not pull away, the vision faded, leaving her only with a sense of unease. Strangely, she was reminded of her eldest brother, who used to be troubled in his sleep.

*May this child not meet the fate of Finrod. May he be preserved from the darkness*

"What is it, child?" she asked steadily as the stormy grey eyes flickered open. "What do you see?"

"I do not know." Elrond shook his head dazedly. "I received tidings of dread and Ada would not stay with me to receive them … I was alone … so alone…" He clutched at her desperately.

Galadriel rocked him in her arms, bemused by this novel sensation, and not entirely at ease with it.

*Elbereth, children are strange creatures*

Nonetheless, when Celeborn crept into the room, he found two elflings wrapped round her, fast asleep.

"They are so young, so tender, and yet so old." She raised her eyes to his.

"Aye, I know, but a heavy burden falls upon them, Elrond most of all."

TBC

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