"Bright Earendil was then lord of the people that dwelt nigh to Sirion's mouths; and he took to wife Elwing the fair, and she bore to him Elrond and Elros, who are called the Half-elven. Yet Earendil could not rest, and his voyages about the shores of the Hither Lands eased not his unquiet … In the Lay of Earendil is many a thing sung of his adventures in the deep and in lands untrodden, and in many seas and in many isles; but Elwing was not with him, and she sat in sorrow by the mouths of Sirion."
Maglor
Maglor's seat at the generals' table had been painstakingly carved out of a rich, dark wood and engraved with a pattern of whorls of sea foam. Maglor thought it was beautiful, and felt quite proud of how it had turned out. Maedhros thought it was bloody stupid. "This is a soldier's camp," he had told Maglor. "All that matters is that it be light enough to pack and sturdy enough to bear your weight."
The chair sat in the command tent by the head of the table, to the right of where Maedhros would be in a few minutes. Maglor sat, too, and looked quizzically at Amrod and the three empty seats that separated him and Maglor. "Who exactly are you waiting for?"
Amrod shrugged diffidently. "Oh, you know. Celegorm and Caranthir and – Oh." His face froze when he remembered.
In the suddenly charged silence, Maglor leaned over gently and squeezed Amrod's hand. "It's early. You're allowed to forget sometimes." Like Amrod, he deliberately kept his gaze away from the three empty spaces in the tent.
Amrod got up and gingerly slid into Celegorm's seat. No, Maglor corrected himself, no one's seat anymore. Amrod looked up guiltily when Amras entered the tent and saw him.
You're a general, Maglor thought. I've seen you charge an entire company of orcs and come out standing, or verbally tear an officer apart for disobeying your orders. So why are you cringing like a child caught sneaking sweets? But that was family gatherings for you.
"I thought Maedhros told us all to be in here before now," said Amrod.
"The supplies had gotten misplaced for the healers' tent," Amras argued. "I needed to be there to help locate the crates before battle starts."
"No, the place you needed to be was where your commander ordered you," said Maglor mildly.
Amras looked ready to bicker, but Maglor tore a piece of bread off the plate in the center of the table and tossed it across to him. "You need to get your strength up. Here, have some lembas."
Amras was chewing silently when Maedhros entered the tent, ducking his head slightly under the lintel. As if pulled upwards by invisible strings, Maglor automatically straightened to attention. One day, he thought, we'll have a family reunion that doesn't double as a war council.