Double Blessings
Dior walked with silent feet, his arms full. He carried the precious bundles to his and their mother's favorite waterfall among the many in Ossiriand. Lanthir Lamath bubbled and fell over smooth gray stones, flowing into one of the many rivers of the region. Tall trees gave shade, matching the coolness of the fresh, clear water.
The son of famed Beren and Lúthien came now to the spot he and Nimloth, his elven wife, had spent the first days of their marriage. Where they had decided to build a home just out of sight of the waterfall, close enough to hear part of the Song that forever flowed in water. Where their children had been created. Where Nimloth had sewn baby clothes, singing lullabies to their unborn little ones.
Now, he brought his day-old sons to their most cherished place. Twins they had been blessed with. Two tiny, perfectly formed, identical babes. The first in Beleriand. The second in all of Arda. All the branches of the Teleri knew of the twins of Fëanor who now dwelled in Beleriand.
His sons had not the fiery hair of the Noldorin princes. Their small tufts of hair were dark, inherited from their half Maia, half elven grandmother. Their sleepy eyes were gray like both sides of their kin. Eluréd, meaning Heir of Elu, was the elder by two minutes and as such would be the heir to his great grandfather's throne in Doriath, after his father. The younger, Elurín, meaning Remembrance of Elu, would be his brother's helpmate and advisor.
As Dior shifted his children in his arms, not being used to holding one much less two, he pondered their futures. Though he was a combination of the blood of men, elves, and a Maia, he was mortal. As his mother had accepted mortality in order to be restored to life with her beloved Beren, the consequence or gift of her choice flowed in his veins. And he had fallen in love with and married an elleth. Their offspring were the second Peredhil, a new word coined at his own birth. Would his children live as mortals or immortals? What had he and Nimloth gifted or punished them with?
Elurín yawned in the crook of his father's right arm. In Dior's left arm, Eluréd scrunched up his tiny face as if about to cry before the lines around his eyes fell away to continued dreams. Their proud father smiled at their actions. Wise, strong princes they would raise them to be. How he loved these double blessings in his arms.
Elwing rested against the pillows, allowing the ocean breeze to cool her hot skin. She pulled the strands of sweaty hair away from her neck.
She was tired. It was hard work bringing two babes into the world. But it was worth it. From the moment each cried, her heart was stolen. The midwife now cleaned blood and fluid from her sons. She could barely wait to hold them in her arms.
Elwing wished her husband was with her. He had planned to be back from his voyage before the birth, but the twins had arrived a few days early. She could not blame Eärendil for his absence. Despite being a devoted husband and eager father to be, he had more pressing duties. He sailed west, further and further each trip in hopes of finding his parents or the Valar. The mortal, Tuor, had been taken by Sea Longing and could resist the call no more. Leaving with his elven wife Idril, they had sailed in an attempt to discover the path to Aman. Morgoth's power grew and his hold on their lands spread. Fighting and hatred among the Eldar further weakened them. The dwindling people of Endor would need help, and it would have to come from the Valar.
No, she did not blame him. Yet she wished she could share this moment with one of her family.
"Here are your sons, my Lady."
The first was laid in her arm, then the other in the opposite. Oh, how tiny they were. Mirror reflections of each other. Her heart burst with love.
Is this how Ada and Nana felt holding her brothers? Dear Eluréd and Elurín, sundered from her in Doriath's fall. They had been devoted older brothers. With much elven blood in her veins, her memory developed quicker than human children, a fact she was grateful for. She was the last of her family, and though she had left Menegroth at only three years old, she remembered them.
Elwing smiled at her sons, putting away her sorrow.
"Your father is sailing the sea, my sweet children. But your names can not wait for his return."
She watched her sons rest peacefully and considered names that would combine something of both her and her husband.
Elwing-Star Spray.
Ëarendil-Sea lover.
Sky and sea.
The elder would be Elrond, Star-dome. The younger, Elros, Star-foam.
"What say you, my sons? Are you pleased with your names?"
Elrond's eyes opened and stared at her with what appeared to be wisdom though he was less than an hour old. Elros, meanwhile, curled his little fist as if holding a scepter.
"May you never be parted, children, as my brothers were from me. My little treasures. My double blessings."
Elrond wrapped a soft woven blanket around each of his sons. The Lord of Imladris was also a healer, and although the midwife had been adamantly against his assistance with his wife's labor he had ignored her protests. He had been determined to be with his wife every step of the way.
He had lost so much. First his parents, then his foster father, later his mentor and friend.
He lost his twin.
Elros, who was part of his soul. His best friend. His partner in mischief. His comforter. His brother. Thousands of years had passed since Elros' choice to become mortal and lead the Edain to their own island with the Valar's blessing after the War of Wrath. Years since they had parted. Letters were sent as often as possible between the wide expanse of their homes. Elros had wed, had four children, and been a highly praised and respected king. It had been many years since death had taken his twin. The hole never filled.
"Elrond, my love?"
Celebrían's gentle voice carried across the room. She reclined in their bed, waiting for her sons.
"Coming, dearest."
The Peredhel brought the twins to his silver haired wife. She opened her arms, fatigued but so eager. He somehow managed to safely hand her one baby and maneuver himself on the bed next to her with the other. His wife traced their rounded cheeks with infinite tenderness.
"They have your dark hair."
When Elrond did not respond, Celebrían reached for his available hand.
"Do you think of your own twin, beloved?"
His wife knew him well. Holding back tears, the ellon nodded.
She squeezed his fingers and said, " I think we should name one in honor of his uncle."
Elrond felt a tear slip from his eye. Yes, something that captured the best of his brother. But which elfling? The question did not remain long. One of the babes pulled his hand free of his covering and clenched his fist tightly. The same gesture that Nana had told them Elros had made after his birth. Holding a scepter, the scepter of Númenor.
"Elladan," he choked out, "Elf-man."
His wife smiled and agreed.
"Yes, Elladan. Perfect. And our other son?"
The Lord of Imladris studied his second born, searching for inspiration. A vision promptly flashed before his eyes. A ellon with a bright silver cloak, jumping off a horse and cutting down orcs with precision and speed. Another identical ellon fought equally well beside him, but this one ran ahead first. Elrond could not clearly see who he ran toward, only a hunched and distraught figure with a splash of color the same shade as his wife's hair.
Celebrían recognized his far away gaze and waited until his gift of foresight faded away. Her husband blinked then explained what he had seen to her.
"A noble little warrior, then. Hmm, what about Elrohir, Elf-knight?"
"Yes, very fitting, Wife."
Elrond leaned down and pressed a kiss to both small heads before kissing his wife's brow.
"Elladan and Elrohir, our double blessings."
*Author's Note
Sindarin Translations-
Elleth-(singular form) female elf
Peredhil-(plural form) half-elven
Peredhel-(singular form) half-elven
Ada-(shortened form of Adar) father
Nana-(shortened form of Naneth) mother
The figure in Elrond's vision is Celebrían upon her rescue by Elladan and Elrohir.
The Silmarillion and Tolkien Gateway used for reference and meaning of names.
I do not receive compensation for my writing, only satisfaction and joy from adding my contribution to Middle Earth's legacy and the opportunity to express myself.
All characters and places are owned by J.R.R. Tolkien and those he gave the rights to.
