silverstar, the silmarillion

iv. elmarë

Maedhros stared at the sleeping children with a blank face. Elmarë, Elrond, and Elros had fallen asleep after eating lembas and one of Maglor's lullabies. He was confused. He knew that the Silmaril was long gone, most possible in the hands of the Valar, so why he ought to keep the children?

He gave them pity; sparing them from a sad fate. But he wondered if he just— "No," Maedhros said out loud. No children should live that fate. They should've had a happy life, a loving family, long life.

Family.

He'd taken their family away. If he had been faster, maybe Eluréd and Elurín might live. If the Second Kinslaying had never happened, maybe they'll have their grandparents.

Guilt it was he has been feeling for hundreds of years, guilt that can't wear off of him. He was scarcely happy too, it was guilt, and sometimes anger that paints his eyes.

Maglor entered the tent, stared at his brother then he sat on the ground with a sigh, "You can't keep living in guilt and 'if's, Nelyo." Maedhros rubbed his stump, a habit he had acquired if he was confused.

"When we reach Amon Ereb? How long do we keep them if they were not traded for the Silmaril?" asked Maedhros, finally turning to face his brother.

He seemed to shrug, "Educate them. They are our responsibility now. They will need food, clothes, rooms, lessons, rules. You knew that the Silmaril was out of reach, why did you do so?" Maglor questioned earnestly.

"I do not know."

...

The next following days were going smoothly. Elmarë didn't seem to mind being in their care. Instead, she was often found dancing around the camp, offering soldiers a smile, while wearing a white flower-crown. While she does so, she tried to avoid the sons of Fëanor whenever they neared; even Maglor.

While Elrond was quiet, often playing on the ground with his toy boat, while his sister danced around him, singing songs to entertain her little brother. Elros was different, he seemed to be glaring at the sons of Fëanor at times, though he still plays with his siblings.

One day happened when Elmarë danced then bumped onto Maedhros. She tried to move, but he was quicker. He sat her down on a nearby stone while keeping a firm grip on her shoulder, before sitting down himself.

She was quiet, staring down at her lap as Maedhros continued observing her. It was uncomfortable for her, and when she twitched, he finally asked the question, "Why do you avoid us?"

Elmarë wiggled below his grasp, crossing her arms as she continued to stare down her lap, "I avoid you and your brother because you are our captors." Maedhros continued staring down at her, and she relented.

"Because you are responsible for us. I—I do not want to grow any fondness for either you or your brother because when you have the Silmaril, you will give us away. It is true, is it not?" at last, she stared back at him, her eyes showing sadness. She mumbled, "Because that was what mother did."

"I raised my brothers since I was 12 years old, while mother was busy over the Silmaril and my father sailing in Vingilótë, searching for Valinor. I healed their every hurt, told them songs, took them to bed. I stayed here, because I knew, that orcs are much more dangerous than living with you," she abruptly stood and fled from him, leaving Maedhros to his thoughts.

She was afraid.

Afraid to be given away. For a harsher word, afraid of being thrown away. He will not do this, will he? She was hiding behind a facade of cheerfulness, for her brothers. She lacked parental love, and she didn't want to be seeking it from him and Maglor, hence the distancing.

...

Maedhros sat on the grass while watching the Peredhil siblings not far from him. Not long, Maglor arrived and sit by him. Maedhros seemed troubled, and so Maglor asked, "What troubles you, brother?"

"The girl—" he began.

"Elmarë," Maglor corrected.

Maedhros glanced at Maglor and repeated slowly, "Elmarë... she was... afraid. She was lacking love from her parents, and as such, she didn't want her brothers to experience so, thus, she cherishes her brothers much."

Maglor made an understanding noise behind his throat. He had seen when her cheerful facade crack, when her voice faltered while singing to her brothers, when her silver eyes were pooled with love and sadness as she kissed their brows, filled with pride when they made something.

Though he knew her for only a mere one and half week, he had seen her much. Maedhros sometimes did something alike too, when their father first created the Silmarils. But after his long torture and suffering at Thangorodrim, his mask fell.

He questioned hesitantly, "Why does she avoid us?

"She was afraid of seeking parental love from us," answered Maedhros shortly. Maglor's eyes widened, "Oh." His brother's brow rose, asking the silent question, 'That is what you say?'

Maedhros shook his head, then changed the subject, "You mentioned educating the siblings?"

"Yes. Quenya lessons and writing maybe? And perhaps some music. They are young, do not push them too hard," Maglor spoke, Maedhros nodding in agreement.

A laugh was heard from the siblings as the sons of Fëanor turned to glance at them. Elmarë was sitting cross-legged on the grass, a white flower-crown upon her brow, with a genuine, happy smile bloomed across her lips, as she watched her brothers in amusement and happiness.

Elros looked to be less angry at the time, as he mock wrestled Elrond on the grass. Both brothers were laughing then, enjoying their time as they rolled around the ground, dirt staining their clothes, and leaves tangled on their hair.

They were truly happy, a light in dark times.

And though he doubted this, Maglor stated, "They have all the time in Arda."

Maedhros glanced at him as he spoke, knowing that Maglor was just hoping, after all, the world is still young, though darkness looms about, he knew, that his brother wished for them to have the entire time for them.

"They do."