Elros

After some unknown number of minutes, Elros could feel things returning to normal within him. His breathing slowed. His eyes felt, understandably, worn out.

Perhaps, now that he had stopped crying, Maglor would expect Elros to sit up and act his age. Elros waited, but Maglor's arms, warm and reassuringly solid, seemed content to still wrap around Elros. They were heavy but in a comforting way, Elros thought, like the weight of furs piled on top of you in bed on these cold winter nights up north.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember Father's embraces. Different, to be sure, in a way that made the guilt squirm quietly in his belly. Father always smelled of salt and smoke and occasionally, unfortunately, fish. The rugged life of a sailor constantly wore away at the roughspun linen of Father's clothes, so that his shirts unavoidably ended up as a slapdash of small patches covering other, larger patches. Elros loved running his fingers along the stitches.

Maglor liked velvet, and dark colors, and he always smelled faintly of flowers. That was nice too, in a different way.

Was it allowed, to like both?

Elros' own shirt was still damp with Elrond's sick, he remembered. He pulled away with a grimace and looked down at the stain.

Maglor smiled at him cautiously.

Elros tried to summon up his dignity. He was nearly nine, after all; no longer a little child like Elrond. "I can take my bath now, if you would like me to. Even if it's cold."

Maglor opened his mouth to respond, but footsteps echoed across the stone tiles. There was a creak as a door swung open. Elros' eyes widened and he rapidly ducked back behind Maglor, who turned around.

Elros hurriedly wiped at his face and peeked around again past Maglor's arm.

Elrond's silhouette looked so small standing in the middle of the doorway, his belly poking out under his shirt. He still looked pale. "Maglor?"

Maglor, towering above Elros next to him on the bench, gave Elrond a little wave. "Everything's fine. I was just upset and needed Elros to comfort me."

Elrond visibly relaxed. "Oh, good. I was worried something was wrong with Elros. It's all right, I won't tell anyone," he added kindly. A little crease of worry remained between his brows even as his shoulders loosened. His eyes found Elros'.

Maglor squeezed Elros' shoulder. "That's quite magnanimous of you, Elrond."

"Oh." Elrond's forehead wrinkled. "Thank you, I think." He stayed twenty paces away with his hand still on the doorknob. His next words came out quietly. "Can we go back to bed now?"

Maglor looked at Elros.

Elros surreptitiously wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.

"Marta's changed the sheets, has she? Good." Elros was old enough not to need the help, but he didn't object when Maglor clasped Elros' hand as Elros clambered down from the bench. "Let's get you two back in your – do you like sleeping in one bed? I assumed that's what you did in Sirion; was that even ever the case?"

Elros shook his head blankly. "Could I have one of my own, please? Only if you have a second one you could spare. I didn't want to bother you."

Maglor groaned and scooped Elrond up gently in his arms. "And I thought I knew you so well."