Elros

Maglor, whose eyes always seemed faintly rimmed with sadness even on the best of days, who could sit patiently with Elrond and his wooden soldiers on the carpet for practically hours, and who once scolded Elros fiercely, then hugged him so hard it hurt to breathe, the day Elros' hands slipped while climbing the old oak tree and Elros plummeted ten feet down onto the hard earth.

Maglor had been at Doriath in the attack that killed Elros' uncles, and Mother's parents. The seven-pointed star carved above the doorway at the main entrance to the house loomed over Elros' head every time he stepped outside, but it had been easier not to look at it, or think about it. There were a lot of things it had been easier not to think about, trapped up north among strangers with only the desperate hope that Father would eventually find them. Not forgotten, just … put away, in some dim corner of his head until they could be more properly dealt with. And then it became abundantly clear that Father wasn't coming at all, but Maglor was here, and constant, and Elros felt guilty about the burst of unconstrained joy that burned in his chest every time he received Maglor's quiet smile of approval. At which point there were new reasons to let those thoughts lie, dormant and unexamined.

Until that afternoon.

Elros didn't move, but growled back at Maglor, "Yes."

Maglor clucked his tongue. "Let's bring you out from under there. There are rats in the stables, did you know? I wouldn't be surprised if peredhil are particularly susceptible to plague, like everything else." He knelt and extended a hand.

Elros reared away and stuck the knife in front of him, between him and Maglor. "Stay back!"

Maglor's arm froze. His fingers curled inwards. He rested his hand on his knee instead. "Have I ever hurt you before? Elros, I bear no malice in my heart towards you, nor Elrond."

"So what did my grandmother ever do to you?" Elros frowned as he tried to remember. "Nimloth. And all the people in Doriath and Sirion. We had cinder-boys back home, too. What happened to Pendor?"

Maglor looked wary. "Pendor?"

Elros' jaw trembled. "Our cinder-boy. He was about my age; did you see him? He and Nirorndes; they lived at home with us."

Maglor's eyes widened, just for a moment, before something in him slammed shut. He swallowed. "Pendor is … he's home. You shouldn't worry about him."

Elros' voice cracked as he spoke. "That's what older people always say, don't they? When there's something they don't want you to know."

Maglor pleaded, "Come out from under there. I'll step back."

Elros stared at him. "What did you do before you met us?"

Maglor didn't answer. Instead he crept backwards until his back rested against the opposite wall. He stretched his feet out on the straw and looked straight across at Elros.

There was now a comfortable twelve feet of space between Elros and Maglor. Elros glanced upwards to the left at the open stable doors. A single star was visible through the dense clouds.

Elros rose to his feet.

He stepped slowly towards the stall closest to the door. Tamblin's horse stood roped inside, a massive creature twice Elros' height. Elros kept his canvas bag bundled up under one arm as he moved to pick up the saddle on the wall.

Maglor's waist jerked forward as if to reflexively pull Elros away. Elros locked eyes with him.

Shoulders rigid, as if it went against every instinct in his body, Maglor leaned back once more against the wood.

Elros slid the saddle off its hook and immediately sagged under the weight. His foot slipped slightly on the straw. Maglor didn't say anything. Elros' arms trembled as he pushed the stall door open with his elbow. He met the horse's gaze and bowed, which was easy, then rose back up, which was difficult.

Tamblin's horse stamped its feet nervously. Elros swallowed and maneuvered around the edges of the stall, out of easy range of its saucer-sized hooves. With a grunt of effort, Elros swung the saddle above his head and over the horse's back.

"I thought it was best you didn't know."

Elros turned around.

Maglor stared at a fixed point on the opposite wall. "We placed blindfolds on you that day we took you from Sirion; do you remember? We were trying to shield you from it all. That's what I've been doing all this time; blindfolds of a different sort. It didn't occur to me I was shielding myself, too."

Elros licked his lips. "My mother told me stories about the sons of Feanor, at night after Elrond fell asleep. She wanted me to be on my guard, just in case something … in case something like this happened. They didn't look like you, though, in my head. I know about how monstrous Celegorm was – " he ignored Maglor's wince " – and the way Curufin could weave lies until you couldn't tell them anymore from the truth. You and Maedhros, though. You're just … people."

Maglor certainly looked ordinary, straw clinging to the front of his shirt. His tone was level. "But you also saw the shattered gate at the edge of Sirion. Maedhros kept you from seeing what was inside."

"What did you do in Doriath? Not the House of Feanor. You, Maglor."

Maglor shut his eyes. "Terrible things. There was a soldier, hiding behind the pillars in the throne room. No strategy to it; the fighting was already done. He was just afraid. Your mother was by that point beyond our reach; Amras had just informed me. I walked in and saw Caranthir lying cold on the marble, and then I saw that boy. And I – " He stopped himself. "And after that there was Sirion."

Elros wanted to wail. "How could anyone do that?"

"I had to save my brothers." Maglor's fist clenched against his knee. "You wouldn't understand, Elros – "

"I don't understand?" Elros was yelling now; he felt it as if from a distance. Next to him, Tamblin's horse jostled nervously. "You took everything from me in Sirion; Elrond is all I have left. And you think I don't know?"

"Elros!" Maglor snapped.

Elros gasped, then followed Maglor's gaze. Tamblin's horse was now pawing at the ground. Elros' chin only went to the top of its legs. Elros stumbled out of the stall into safety.

Maglor sat stiff against the ground as if turned to stone. Despite that, his eyes burned into Elros. "The Everlasting Darkness. Do you have any concept of that? Cast into the void, consumed for eternity. Amrod, Amras, Curufin, Caranthir, Celegorm, and Maedhros. Unless we gain back Feanor's Silmarils."

Elros shook his head. "Maybe you all deserve it."

Maglor flinched. "You shouldn't say things you don't mean."

"You think I don't?" Elros balled up his fists. His words came out as shouts; the few soldiers still awake outside in the yard could probably hear it. "After what you did to the people of Alqualonde? And kept doing, again and again. You can't even remember all the people you've hurt; there've been so many. I'd put you there myself if I could, I swear it!" He rushed at Maglor.

Maglor, still sitting, caught him with a grunt. Elros' fist collided with his stomach. "Don't," Maglor panted.

Maglor's arms attempted to hold him back, but Elros was filled with a fury. This must be the battle-lust that Maglor had felt in his Kinslayings; a red haze that shimmered at the edges of Elros' vision. Maglor the loving guardian wasn't there anymore; in his place Elros saw only an assembly of pieces: arms and legs and Maglor's soft exposed neck. Elros kicked and beat.

In the end, however, Elros was small, and Maglor was a soldier hardened by many wars. Elros howled with grief as Maglor's arms clamped Elros' own close to his sides. Something damp now dripped down Elros' cheeks. He ground his boots against the floor and struggled to push his back away from the wall.

Maglor's eyes glimmered as well. He stood now, hands tightly gripped onto Elros' arms to prevent him from lashing out again. "Don't – ," he repeated. He paused to catch his breath. " – Swear such oaths. And don't give in to your rage. Not like I did in Doriath."

Elros fell silent.

"It will consume you, Elros. The wiles of Morgoth will take root in your mind, if you let them. I watched it destroy Curufin, after Celebrimbor left. Despair and the weight of his oath. In the end I didn't recognize my brother anymore."

Elros' shoulders shook. "Why would you swear something like that? If it made you do these horrible things."

"Heh." Maglor's head jerked away. He stared away from Elros, up at the still night sky. Maglor's eyes watched it as he spoke, as if out there lay some absolution just beyond his reach. He bit his lip. "Hubris? Naivety? A son's faithful love?"

Slowly, Elros stopped struggling. Maglor's gaze remained fixed on the heavens.

Elves always looked young, even after centuries of living. That was just the way the world worked. Elros didn't question it. As Maglor stared off into the distance, however, Elros caught the scent of untold years that had slipped away like sand through fingers, long before the sun had ever lit the sky. Maglor's hair was as dark as ever. Unlike the spots and wrinkles that eventually turned up uninvited with Men, or so Elros had been told, Maglor's features shone with vitality; perfect, unchanging. Nevertheless, time rolled off of him in waves.

"I was raised in the light of the trees. I was young, and the world had not yet lost its luster. The world is strange and filled with terrors, but I did not yet know that. I saw my father and all my brothers take the oath, and so did I, one after another. It felt so simple. And for that, I have been hundreds of years far from home, and I will never see my mother again." Maglor spoke quietly.

Elros shivered.

Maglor looked back at Elros. "Do not swear oaths rashly as I did."