"Too late the ships of Cirdan and Gil-galad the High King came hasting to the aid of the Elves of Sirion; and Elwing was gone, and her sons."

Maglor

"Gil-galad is coming with his troops, my lord, as is Cirdan. We must set forth back to Ossiriand within the hour."

Maglor scowled at Braenor in the pre-dawn light. "If he's hoping to be here in time for the battle, he can go home now. We've done our fighting already. If Gil-galad wants to be where the action is, tell him he can visit the healer's tent."

Braenor didn't smile. "Very droll, my lord. Forgive me, I've been commanded to alert the other men." He bowed and trotted over to the next tent.

Maglor yawned and rubbed his eyes as he ducked back into his tent. Tentatively, he leaned over and nudged Elros awake. "We didn't think to pack for you two a change of clothing. Perhaps we were preoccupied with something. Wash your face at least; we'll be on the road soon."

When Elros awoke and saw Maglor's face, he gasped in alarm and clutched protectively at Elrond. After a minute he relaxed slightly.

Maglor set a shallow bowl of water on the table by the bed. "There are easier ways to wake up your brother. Do you like lembas?"

"What's lembas?"

"That answers that. I suppose your mother was never taught how to prepare it." Maglor froze and waited for the tears to erupt from either boy at the mention of their dead mother, but Elros kept cautiously examining the bread in his hand before venturing an experimental nibble. Elrond slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

It hasn't sunk in yet for either of them. Their mother's dead, but what does that really mean? It's as if she's just … away for now, like their father would so often be. In a closet full of clothes tailored for a six-foot elf, Maglor searched for something that would inexplicably fit two little boys.

"No matter. I'm sure there's some old play clothes of Celebrimbor's at my residence. Caranthir's just the sort to have left something behind." On another day, the thought of Caranthir would have sent Maglor into a grief that would hang around his neck for the next few hours, but the boys were watching. One foot in front of the other, that's how to do it. 'Would that the dead were not dead!' But there is still work to be done.

Elros had finished his bread – Maglor should have warned him to only have a few bites; the boy's stomach would be swollen later and Maglor would feel guilty – and was now offering a piece to Elrond. "You said you had a change of clothing?"

Maglor took the lembas from Elrond's hand after the first two bites. The younger brother glowered at him. "I only wish. Come now. It'll be like being a real soldier."

._.

Author's notes:

Quote from Richard Adams, "Watership Down".