Maglor

A few days later once the children were well again, Maglor was in his study with Elros, where a roaring fire had been lit. Elrond, who had initially clung to Elros like a shadow in those first few weeks after Sirion, had with time gained back some confidence that Elros wouldn't vanish like their mother if Elrond turned his back for ten minutes. Now Elrond felt hopeful enough to wander on his own, and could leave Elros for as long as a whole afternoon if tempted.

Other than the crackle of the flames, the only sounds were the scritch of pen on parchment where Maglor sat writing at his desk, and the occasional turn of the page as Elros lay sprawled out with a book on the rug.

The door swung open by a few inches, just wide enough for a pair of eyes to appear in the gap. Maglor glanced up from his account-sheet. Elrond's eyes disappeared. There was a soft grunt out of sight, and then the door was pushed open farther, this time by Elrond's elbow. His hands were now occupied. Elrond's breathing was slightly louder than normal as he leaned against the door to close it.

Elros didn't appear to notice as Elrond approached the carpet by the hearth with the unwieldy wooden box in his hands. Elrond hesitated, then knelt forward and set it down with a thump.

Elros looked up.

Elrond pressed his lips together. "My soldiers. The wooden ones I got from Maglor. And the little swords out of tin."

A confused crease appeared between Elros' brows. "Did you want me to play with you? I was going to do some reading; perhaps you could ask Ontamion?"

Elrond shook his head. "For you, I mean. As a – " He squinted his eyes shut. "I'm sorry about hitting you with my troll. You can have them, now."

Elros sat up. "Oh, that." He lifted the lid and gingerly picked up a wooden elf.

"Tamblin told me about weregilds; it turns out they don't have anything to do with wolves after all. Will this make it all right?" Elrond looked miserable. "Look, you can even have the dragon; it has a little flame out of real glass. I put it in the corner, right there."

Elros prodded at it. His gaze stayed away from Elrond, fixed on the contents of the box. "You don't need to worry, Elrond. Look, we were both angry the other day. And I didn't need to say … the things I said."

"Was it true, though?"

Elros swallowed and stared at the toys. He traced the features of the miniature elf with his thumb. "Most of it."

Maglor had set down his pen and was watching, closely but with his head still turned to the desk so as to remain surreptitious.

Elrond blinked rapidly. "Father?"

Elros took a breath. "Not true."

Elrond's knuckles were white as he gripped the sides of the box. He kept quiet for a few moments, just breathing.

Elros watched him.

Elrond gulped and drew in a shaky breath. "Mother; was that true?"

Elros sat across from Elrond on the carpet, the box of toys between them. He bit his lip. "Come here."

Elrond looked younger than normal as he crawled over to sit next to Elros. Elros stared at the ceiling and blinked rapidly as he buried Elrond's face against his shoulder.

Maglor wondered if he should intervene with some words of comfort. He decided against it.

Elros rocked back and forth seemingly unconsciously. "You have me, all right? And I have you, and that's never going to go away. Here, let's go drink some hot water with lemon; just what you like."

Elrond shook his head. His voice sounded stuffy, as if his stomach-sickness had been immediately followed by a head cold. "No one here knows how to make it like Mother does."

"Did," said Elros automatically.

Elrond froze. "I learned how to lace my boots all by myself. I'm supposed to show her." He looked up, stricken. "I wanted to show her my drawing I made of the castle. She likes my drawings. And she said I'm supposed to learn how to swim this summer. She said it was important, and now no one will remember. I'll be a whole six years old and won't know how to swim yet. People will laugh at me."

"Maybe Maglor can teach you."

Elrond sniffed. "I bet Maglor doesn't know how to swim. Not enough horses in it, probably."

Maglor's ears went pink.

Elros' shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Elrond. It's all gone wrong." Elros' lip wobbled. "I miss her, too. And even if she's not – " He reared back to avoid letting his nose get rammed by Elrond's scalp as Elrond stood up suddenly.

Elrond's eyes shone wetly amidst a now-pink face. "Thanks for sitting with me, Elros," he spoke quickly. "I need to go now. I think Maglor was calling me."

Elros stared. "Maglor's right there."

Maglor snatched up the pen and wiggled it around an inch above the paper as if he was intent on his work.

Elrond looked over. His face now bore a determined, blank look. "Someone else, I mean. Someone else needed me. I'll just go, I'll just … " Elrond's chin tucked into his chest as he made a beeline to the door.

"But we weren't done talking about Mother – "

The door slammed shut. Just before it closed, Maglor thought he saw tear tracks descending over Elrond's cheeks.

Elros was stuck in place on the carpet, watery eyes fixed on the door. He swallowed.

Maglor was there in an instant, handkerchief extended towards the boy. "Leave him," he advised Elros. "Elrond will face his grief eventually; let him take his own time about it."

Elros blew his nose loudly. "I didn't mean to upset him. I just wanted to talk about her to someone."

Maglor sat down on the carpet. "Which is why you have me. If that's an adequate substitute."