Elros

The northern night air hit Elros like a slap the moment he pushed open the door. There was no fur cloak draped over his shoulders right now, only his long-sleeved woolen shirt. It was very clearly not enough.

._.

Elros, safe in Maglor's study after a grueling day, let himself fall into the cushions blanketing the window sill. His arching bracer lay curled in his hand, only half-laced. Elros should finish the job, but the heat of the fire in the hearth draped over him like a blanket. Already he could hear Elrond's soft breathing across the room.

Maglor's voice as he sang wove through the air like spun gold, so different from the harsh growl that had emanated from above that afternoon as Elros and Elrond huddled under the canvas sheet. Then Maglor, inevitably, discovered them, and as Elros looked up to see Lord Maedhros lurking over Maglor's shoulder it struck him how similar the two sons of Feanor looked.

Disquiet churned in Elros' stomach, but the exhaustion was stronger. Elros let the strum of the harp wash over him as he strayed in and out of sleep. Maglor had started the night out with a cheerful harvest tune, then a lover's ballad, and then a folk song about the moon trying and failing to catch the sun. And so on.

The plucking of strings stopped. As Elros dozed, the only sounds were the occasional crackle of dying coals.

And then Maglor played a few notes of something new.

A feeling of familiarity rose up from the depths of Elros' mind. Mother, seated at the window on a clear blue afternoon, singing as she darned a hole in one of Father's shirts. Her features in Elros' memory were starting to blur, but the high lilting tone as the needle plunged in and out of the linen remained sharp as daylight.

Elros' mind, foggy with tiredness, continued to drift. Ontamion on a cold autumn morning, opening his palms to let the chestnuts pour out onto the bricks of the kitchen fireplace.

"My father won't let me listen, but sometimes I pretend to be asleep when he has soldiers over for supper. No one pays attention to children."

Something was gathering in Elros' head, memories from Sirion that had been buried in the tumult of moving up north, or perhaps shut away for his own good. Tales that Mother used to sing, old whispered warnings. A word drifted to the surface, "Noldolante", and with that, Elros snapped awake.

Maglor was nearby. Elros kept his eyes closed.

._.

The path crunched under his boots. This late at night, the only parts of the castle still alive were the soldier's quarters out near the stables, which never slept. The thick fog which blew in from the north made blazing eyes out of the torches mounted throughout the camp. They seemed to peer at him as he ran past.

Inside the quiet stable, there was only a single safety lantern. Water filled the spaces between each double pane of glass, so that the light that made its way through had an ethereal, eerie quality.

Grunting with effort, Elros pushed aside some sacks of horsemeal until he had cleared away a little rectangle in the floorboards. He grasped the plank in his hands and pulled.

There was an explosion of squeaks. Elros gave a strangled gurgle and scrambled backwards on his hands. The few rats that had been nesting underneath sped away from the lamplight, into the mounds of straw piled up in the far corners of the room.

Elros peered into the hole in the floor. There it was, the little bundle, surrounded by grains of barley that had leaked from the bags of feed. Elrond, back when Elros had hid it, was still following his brother around like a shadow, afraid to turn away in case Elros, too, inexplicably vanished from his life. Regardless of how Elrond whined and wheedled, Elros refused to tell Elrond what was in it, nor his reasons for hiding such a thing away out of sight. Elros had tried not to think about it at all.

Back in the present, Elros reached down and clasped the dusty canvas. He untied the knot and ventured a peek. There it was. A scrap of paper, in case they needed to leave someone a letter. One of Ontamion's little tinder boxes, the matches with their wax coatings neatly laid out in a row at the bottom. A knife that he had purloined from the table at dinner when Maglor wasn't looking. A loaf of long-past-stale bread that, while unfortunately could no longer be used for food, could probably bludgeon something with enough force to feed him and Elrond in other ways. And two cloaks.

Back when Elros had first found that hollow spot under the floorboards, Elrond watching him silently with beady eyes, Elros had tried not to focus on the mantra that drummed in his head.

In case we ever need to leave this place in a hurry.

Elros clutched the second cloak in his hands. Elrond. He was still upstairs.

Around the corner, hidden by the horse stalls, there was a slow creak of hinges. Elros' head whipped around.

A work bench, waist height for a grown man, hidden in the shadows at the back of the stall and piled with stained cloths. Careful not to dislodge anything and make any noise, Elros wriggled underneath it.

He came face to face with a pair of dark eyes. Elros fought the urge to yell and swat the rat away. Instead he watched it lift up its head and sniff the musty air. Elros' skin crawled.

There was a scrape of metal, and the light changed. Someone had picked up the water-lamp and was stepping slowly past each stall in the stable. Elros listened to the footsteps come down. One. And then another.

Underneath the dusty wool, Elros could spot the bottom half of a pair of shiny black boots in the middle of the floor. He knew those shoes. The thought floated up. Maglor.

And then: Son of Feanor. Kinslayer.

The hidden figure moved closer.

Elros put his hand over his mouth to keep himself from breathing too loudly. He didn't see you. At worst, he saw that you took something from under the floorboards, which means he thinks you've now fled somewhere else. He won't find you.

The boot made a quiet rustling noise as it glided over the straw.

I need to grab Elrond.

Elros stared transfixed at the shadows that danced across the floor as the lantern swung overhead. He clenched his fists to keep them from trembling. His heartbeat rang in his ears; Maglor was sure to find him based on that alone, it was so loud.

I couldn't escape. Not in Sirion, not earlier today. They always find me.

Elros gripped the knife and prepared to leap out.

Someone tore away the sheet. Elros coughed as straw and wood shavings rained down on his head. He blinked up in the light.

Maglor smiled wanly. "Oh, dear. Am I really such a danger to you?"