Title: Treasure in the Woods
Author: Serenity
Author's Email: serenityabrin@hotmail.com
Pairings: None
Rating: R
Summary: Gil-galad discovers something precious while riding in a forest.
Disclaimer: I don't own them; they belong to Tolkien.
Warnings: Child abuse discussed
Author's Notes: At Bottom of Page
* * * * *
The cool air whipping against his face invigorated the young king. Beneath him, Alcar raced along the edge of the Nimbrethil forest. The large chestnut-colored stallion enjoyed the chance to stretch his legs as much as Gil-galad enjoyed the break from his duties.
Feeling his mount's pleasure, the dark-haired elf allowed them to go longer than perhaps was wise. Círdan will have a fit, he thought as his horse approached a forest stream. Pulling gently on the reins, Gil-galad directed Alcar to stop near the cooling water. He gracefully dismounted, letting his horse drink its full. Stretching, the young king looked around.
The little brook was barely two feet deep, splashing softly around protruding rocks on its way to the ocean. The banks on either side were taller by a foot and covered in lush green grass, cut low by foraging deer. Slender white birch trees grew sparsely near the stream, but thickened almost to a wall deeper in the forest.
Kneeling down, Gil-galad splashed water onto his sweaty face. He sipped the refreshing water before refilling his water-skin. A gentle breeze dried the water on his face, further cooling the young king. There was a slight bite of cold on the wind hinting at the beginning of winter. Gil-galad watched Alcar wander near the stream, munching contentedly on golden-tinted grass. He sat back and relaxed.
A sudden gust of icy wind bit at the dark-haired elf's skin, bringing with it the soft sounds of chattering and sniffling to his sensitive ears. Blinking in surprise, Gil-galad turned his head toward the sounds. His eyes widened when he heard them again. Slowly getting up, he followed his ears to a thick snowy birch tree surrounded by dense bushes.
Looking closely, the young king found that the bushes shook slightly. He advanced slowly expecting to find an animal, perhaps injured or snared to prevent it from leaving. Gil-galad was thus very surprised when he pulled back the bush to reveal a little boy.
He appeared to be an elfling of no more than eight or nine years old though a keen intelligence shone from eyes too large for his face. There was also fear and distrust swimming in those huge silver eyes. His pale, thin face was framed by matted, stringy black hair. From the neck down he was mostly a shapeless mass of cloth and foliage that trembled violently.
Suddenly the formless mass moved, revealing another child who raised his head from its pillow of the other boy's stomach to look at the young king. Gil-galad stared in shock, seeing the second boy was a perfect match of the first.
The second child seemed even more emaciated than his brother (or at least Gil-galad assumed they were brothers). He appeared to be smaller than his twin. His cheeks were sunken in and the tiny hand clutching his brother's garb looked skeletal. Impulsively, Gil-galad shifted forward but froze when the boys moved away, their shaking increasing and their eyes widening with fear. The littler twin whimpered; his brother clutching him closer and glaring at the king.
Perplexed, Gil-galad considered his options. Moving to sit on his haunches, he tried to make himself less imposing.
"Hello," he began, keeping his voice soft while he tried to remember past encounters between children and adults that he had witnessed. He had no idea how to deal with children. The little one whimpered again and buried his head against his brother.
"Are you lost?" the king persisted. Again, the children did not answer but cowered back as though his voice were a weapon. Gil-galad remained silent until the boys relaxed enough to respond. The bigger twin kept looking at his brother before quickly shifting his gaze back to the tall stranger before him, watching for any signs of aggression. Finally, the little boy gave a hesitant nod.
"Have you been separated from your parents?" The question seemed innocent enough, but it caused the littler twin to burst out in silent tears while his brother bit his lip hard to keep from doing the same. Their reaction led Gil-galad to an uneasy conclusion. "Are you parents . . . dead?" he asked gently. Another sad nod. "My parents are dead too," the young king confided, trying to gain the boys' trust. The little ones looked unimpressed.
Stumped on what to do next, Gil-galad took a moment to observe the twins. He noticed that they continued to tremble, but too intensely for it to be solely from fear. Another blast of cold air pulled hair into the king's eyes. The little ones drew closer to the tree, looking for warmth. Gil-galad realized that they were cold. It was no wonder. From what little he could see of them, he saw that they wore what could have been an adult's undertunic that was threadbare and tattered. Certainly not sufficient to keep away the cold.
Slowly moving his hands to his throat, the elder elf unclasped his cloak and drew it equally slowly over his shoulder. The little boys watched him with wide eyes; the fear in them making his heart clench. As nonchalantly as possible, he folded the thick fabric. Gil-galad debated how to give them the cloak so that they would accept it. The silence must have stretched on for too long for the larger twin suddenly cried out, "Please don't hurt us!" His voice was scratchy and raw.
Gil-galad blinked in surprise, forcing himself to restrain the impulse to bury the little boys in a loving hug. Taking a calming breath, he said as softly as he could, "I have no wish to hurt either of you, but I am . . . concerned. These are dangerous times and I want to ensure that both of you are safe. If you tell me where you are from, I would offer to help you return there." Gil-galad held his breath to see how the elflings would react.
The little one sniffed, drawing his brother's attention. They locked eyes with each other. Gil-galad couldn't tell what they were saying, but he had heard that twins could speak to each other with their minds so he assumed they were doing that. As they seemed to have momentarily forgotten about him and showed no signs of answering his question, Gil-galad returned to his initial concern.
"Are you cold?" he asked quietly, extending the cloak toward them. Their heads snapped back to look at him, their eyes once again as wide as saucers. Gil-galad was getting a little tired of their continuing fear but he kept his annoyance to himself. He knew he was more annoyed with himself because he did not know how to alleviate the elflings' fears than he was truly upset with them.
The little boys eyed the cloak suspiciously, though Gil-galad could see they really wanted it. Gil-galad remained absolutely still, giving the boys time to overcome their fears. They exchanged a look obviously debating what to do. Finally, the little twin buried his head into his brother's side, who tightened his hold and stared as defiantly as he could at the king. "What do you want for it?" he demanded with trembling bravado.
"Nothing, little ones. You obviously have more need of it than I and I have wardrobes full of cloaks at home." Gil-galad waited until the boys understood that he was not moving until they took his cloak. Hesitantly, the larger twin reached out. The king remained as still as stone, sensing that if he so much as twitched, the little ones would not accept the warm fabric.
The elfling leaned forward slightly, quickly snatching the cloak and backing away. He continued to eye the elder elf, making no move to put the cloak on until he was sure the stranger wasn't going to try anything. Once his fears were calmed, he awkwardly opened the cloak.
Gil-galad watched with some amusement as the twins silently argued. It was obvious to him that the larger twin wished to wrap the cloak around his brother, who was equally insistent that he use it himself. While they argued, pushing the heavy fabric back and forth, the king caught sight of bruises and cuts on their too skinny arms. The injuries could be nothing more than scrapes obtained while traveling but something in Gil-galad's gut told him it was not so.
While he inspected their visible injuries, the twins had come to some kind of agreement. They clumsily wrapped the cloak around both of them, each trying to tuck it more securely around his brother.
"That is better, isn't it?" Gil-galad said softly. The two turned owl eyes at him, obviously having forgotten about him for a moment. The king tried to smile, though it was strained.
"Are you hungry too?" he asked. The little ones continued to stare at him and he had to stop himself from checking to see if he'd suddenly grown an extra head. Auspiciously, the elflings were betrayed by hungry growls from their stomachs. The little one blushed weakly and hid his head beneath the cloak. His brother clutched him close, and Gil-galad wondered that the little one didn't protest the hold, as it looked to him to be painful.
"Alcar," Gil-galad called. His horse ambled over, stopping beside his elf. The great stallion noticed two little creatures cowering near a tree. A hand to his flank stopped Alcar from indulging his curiosity and he snorted, sensing the tension in the air.
Again using slow motions and making sure his hands were always visible, the elf-king hurriedly took out the packet of sweet bread the maids always packed for him. Quickly, he returned to his crouched position before the little ones, even daring to move a little closer. Trusting his instincts, Gil-galad broke off a small piece of the bread before placing the packet within easy reach of the twins. He backed away slightly, popping his piece of bread into his mouth.
Another interminably long pause passed before a tentative hand sneaked out from beneath the cloak. Gil-galad was once again witness to a silent struggle where both boys tried to give the whole of the bread to his brother. As before, they settled on sharing the sweet bread, happily munching on their treat. They continued to watch the elder elf warily though Gil-galad saw the little one's eyes continue to flicker towards his mighty horse.
"Would you like to meet my horse?" he offered. The little one looked startled, quickly huddling closer to his brother, but he continued to watch the large beast quietly grazing near the three elves. "Have you ever seen a horse before?" Gil-galad persisted. The elflings simply continued to look at him. Sighing, the young king decided on a different approach.
"Do you live around here? Is there someone looking for you?" Again his innocent question was met with a violent reaction. The too pale elflings went sheet white and began to tremble again.
"Please don't send us back," the larger twin said while his brother began to cry softly.
"Send you back where? Has someone hurt you?" he asked, though it was plain to him the answer was yes. He kept his voice soothing, trying to calm the little boys, but it did not have the desired effect. The larger twin, obviously distressed by his brother's cries and the imposing stranger before him, became slightly hysterical.
"We're not going back to Maedhros," he yelled, pulling his brother with him closer to the safety of the tree. Gil-galad could almost hear the tree call to the upset little boys near its base. The larger boy bared his teeth and growled at the king, clutching his brother so close, the little one cried harder.
Gil-galad schooled his features to impassiveness to hide his shock. Maedhros? he thought. What has that bastard done now?
Looking at the tiny, trembling boys, their identical faces pressed together, wide silver eyes glistening with tears, Gil-galad's breath caught. "It cannot be," he breathed. Unable to contain himself, he fairly shouted, "Elros! Elrond!"
The little twins blinked; their surprise and curiosity instantly calming them down. Just managing to stay himself from grabbing the boys and clutching them tight, Gil-galad fell back onto his butt. "We thought you were dead!: he said, tears of joy welling up in his eyes. The twins exchanged confused glances.
"H-how do you know us?" the larger twin asked hesitantly. Wiping his tears away, the young king smiled genuinely at the little boys.
"I should know my own cousins," he said.
"Cousins?" they asked together; the first time the little one had spoken, though he may have only mouthed the word.
"Forgive me," Gil-galad said, rising to his knees. "I have not introduced myself. My name is Ereinion
and-," he began but was stopped from further speech when the twins gasped.
"Gil-galad!" they cried. Now it was the elder elf's turn to blink in surprise at being recognized. He watched as the twins struggled to their feet, the cloak entangling around them. The moment the cloak fell to their feet, Gil-galad's heart clenched in pain now that he could see them plainly. Though both swam in the large tunics they wore, their arms and legs were bare and the cloth was so threadworn and tattered as to conceal very little. Now knowing how old they were supposed to be, he ached at their malnourished state.
Their arms were covered in bruises and lacerations, concentrating around their little wrists. The little one could not stand up on his own, but limped beside his brother. Both were barefoot allowing Gil-galad to see that the little one's left foot was swollen and twisted at an odd angle, though this could not be the cause of his limp for it was his right leg that he dragged. He seemed used to his foot's deformity. But what truly concerned the king was his right arm.
The entire arm was dreadfully swollen, but especially so around the upper arm where a jagged wound was visible. The wound was distended from the skinny arm. As Gil-galad could not inspect the wound up close, he could not be certain but he thought the little one had broken his arm and it had never been attended to.
Fighting back a wave of nausea, Gil-galad watched as the little elflings attempted to bow to him. "My king," they said. The little one overbalanced, but his twin kept him from falling.
"No, little ones," Gil-galad said softly. "I do not desire your deference. You are my family, my equals. You needn't bow." The little ones looked at him, their expression unreadable to the young king.
"Family?" the little one breathed, hope shining in his silvery eyes. Gil-galad smiled gently and held his hand out to them.
"If you would like one," he said quietly. The two glanced between each other and the kneeling king. Gil-galad's patience paid off when a tentative little hand slid into his. He smiled brightly at the littler twin, who looked at him shyly. Glancing out of the side of his eye, the young king could see the larger twin bite his lip nervously. It was obvious he wanted to have a family as much as his brother did, but he still couldn't trust this stranger not to hurt them.
Sensing that the trust he had been given was still tenuous, Gil-galad restrained himself from bundling the twins up and racing to find a healer. "Would you still like to meet my horse?" he asked, trying to further strengthen the burgeoning trust forming between them. The little one nodded happily, glancing at the huge stallion. His brother's joy seemed to ease the larger twin's mind and he relaxed marginally.
The horse sensed the little creatures' interest and moved toward them, but as they looked very frail to him, Alcar was very careful how he moved. To Gil-galad's delight, neither of the twins showed any fearfulness toward the horse. Tentatively, the little twin stroked the horse's nose. His brother patted the strong right forearm.
Moving away slightly, the elf-king slowly stood and walked around to the other side of Alcar. He fished out an apple from his saddle-pack. Returning to the twins, he saw that his absence had gone unnoticed. Gil-galad squatted near the littler twin and offered him the fruit.
"Would you like to give Alcar a treat?" he asked, though he would've rather given the apple to the underweight twins. The little twin backed up against the horse, but thankfully it seemed his actions were the result of bashfulness and not fearfulness. After only a moment's hesitation, he gingerly accepted the apple from Gil-galad's hand and shyly offered it to the chestnut-colored stallion. Alcar happily bit into the succulent fruit causing the little one to smile. He gently petted the horse's soft cheek.
"I must ask your forgiveness," Gil-galad said after a moment watching the little ones pet his horse. The twins looked at him with dread, biting their lips in perfect unison. The young king smiled kindly.
"I know you are my cousins but I do not know which is Elrond and which is Elros." Gil-galad managed to look abashed and was rewarded by the little twin patting his hand forgivingly, but it was his brother who responded.
"I'm Elros," he said rather sullenly. Gil-galad turned his attention to the little twin before him.
"Then, you must be Elrond," he said. Elrond blushed, ducking his head and nodding. The king smiled warmly at him. "I am delighted to meet you." Elrond's blush intensified and he quickly turned back to Alcar. Gil-galad let his horse command the little boys' attention while he decided what to do next.
Looking up, he saw that the day was waning and he knew that if he tarried any longer, Círdan would send out a search party. The thought of fully armored, ill-humored guards meeting his little cousins caused Gil-galad to abandon caution and hurry the twins along.
"Little ones," he said softly. "The day grows late and I fear my friend Círdan will start to worry about me." He decided to be as truthful as possible with his cousins.
"Círdan?" Elros asked. Elrond also turned to look at Gil-galad. He returned their inquisitive look with a surprised one of his own.
"Do you know him?" he asked. The twins nodded in unison.
"Mommy said daddy learned sailing from him," Elros said. The king nodded.
"As did I. Would you like to meet him?" Gil-galad asked. His question was met with a shrug, but Elrond looked interested, though whether it was the idea of meeting the Shipwright or just the conversation Gil-galad could not guess.
"Well," the elf-king continued. "I must return to him." To his relief, the twins obviously didn't want him to go. "If you like, you could come with me to the sea."
The boys exchanged a look. "The sea?" Elros breathed, a hopeful look shining from his eyes. After a moment's confusion, Gil-galad understood. The only time his cousins had ever felt safe and loved was when they lived by the sea.
"Yes, I live on a large island, well protected from evil creatures." And sons of Fëanor, he thought and he could see the twins were thinking the same thing.
The little boys locked eyes with each other, communicating silently. Gil-galad remained silent, knowing this was a very serious and hard decision for his young kin, whose trust had been betrayed. His heart burned to think of anyone hurting these little ones and he swore that the sons of Fëanor would pay for their crimes if ever they met their new High King.
Five minutes passed before Elros approached his twin, embracing him tightly. Then he looked up at the tall king. "We accept," he said formally. Gil-galad nodded. He suppressed his first impulse to snatch the twins up and take them away. Instead he smiled gently and gestured toward the cloak, which was still hopelessly tangled around the twins' ankles.
"May I help?" he asked. The little ones looked at the thick fabric, having forgotten about it. Sitting back down on his haunches, Gil-galad carefully disentangled the little ones from his large cloak. He made sure not to touch them, knowing it was better if the young elves had control over any physical contact.
Shaking the cloak out, he quickly wrapped it around both twins at once. Elrond watched with some trepidation, leaning into his brother for support, but it was clear Gil-galad was making progress with the younger son of Eärendil. The king could see that gaining Elrond's trust would help him gain Elros".
Putting on his most reassuring smile, the elder elf held out his arms. "Shall we go?" he asked. His cousins looked at each other, reaffirming their decision. Then, they slowly walked into his embrace.
Gil-galad gently lifted them, one in each arm. He held them aloft for a moment, letting them pet Alcar before settling them on the large stallion's back. Elrond sat before his brother, reaching out to braid the stallion's mane. Gil-galad made sure his cloak remained secure around his cousins before swinging up behind them.
The twins tensed momentarily. The Noldorin king waited until they relaxed before nudging Alcar into action. The proud stallion walked forward. It took no more than ten minutes to reach the edge of the forest, where Gil-galad urged his horse to greater speed. Alcar chose an awkward gate for himself, allowing for speed but keeping his little passengers from bouncing.
As the countryside flew past, Eärendil's sons calmed down. Elrond in particular enjoyed the ride. It was obvious he had a great love of horses, often patting Alcar's neck. But it was also obvious to Gil-galad that the little ones were very weary. It was no wonder. Who knew how long they had wandered in the wilderness? Then, they had a scary encounter with an elf they didn't know. The king thanked the Valar that it was he who had stumbled across them and not orcs or wildmen.
The twins settled sleepily against their cousin. Alcar sensed the change in his charges and moved into a more comfortable canter, covering more ground.
The sun was just setting as they approached the shore. Gil-galad felt the little ones stir in his arms at the sound of the waves. He heard them inhale sharply in anticipation. However, their joy turned to fear as Alcar ascended the bluffs concealing the shore and Gil-galad's ship could be clearly seen. Just as Gil-galad had predicted, several armed guards were preparing to mount equally formidable warhorses. Inwardly, the king groaned and he directed Alcar away from the armed elves.
"Where have you been!" an irritated elf demanded. The little ones drew closer to their cousin as a strange creature detached himself from the other elves and bore down on the young king. Keeping his temper in check, Gil-galad pierced the elder elf with a withering glare.
Círdan stopped short, never having received such a look from his former foster son before. Fortunately for him, the twins had forgotten their fear for curiosity as they peeked over Gil-galad's cloak to look at the strange man with the long silver beard. They had never seen anyone like the Shipwright before.
However, the Teleri elf did not see the twins right away, focusing on the High King. Trying to radiate calm for the twins but at the same time silently convey to Círdan to be soft spoken for once in his long life, Gil-galad swung down from Alcar. He looked beyond the older elf to his guards and gave them the same meaningful look he had given the Shipwright. They instantly became very busy with packing up camp.
Disregarding everyone else for a moment, Gil-galad reached up to grasp the twins. They reached for him, nervous with all the other elves around. Elrond wrapped his one good arm around the king's neck, burying his head into his cousin's broad shoulder. Elros peeked over the cloak to ensure that everyone stayed back.
The guards and sailors glanced at their king curiously, wondering what he was doing. Círdan frowned as Gil-galad gestured with his head toward him. "Elros, Elrond. This is Círdan." His words were met with complete silence as everyone stopped working to simply stare at the children held safe in their king's arms. Elrond joined his brother in peeking out of the cloak to see why it was suddenly so quiet and to see the Shipwright they had heard so much about.
Círdan stared at the identical boys in shock, his mouth hanging open. After a moment of simply staring, Gil-galad cleared his throat. "Círdan," he warned. He let his warning extend to the other shocked elves, who once again quickly returned to loading the ship. It did not go unnoticed by the king, however, that many of the elves lingered to see what would happen.
"My king," Círdan began, wanting to ask if he was sure these were the lost heirs of Eärendil. But then he looked closely at the inquisitive faces staring at him. Despite their emaciation, there was an unearthly loveliness to them. And he had seen those eyes before. A unique light shone from their silver eyes reflecting the light of the Silmarils, the light of the two trees. It made his breath catch.
The little ones began to look at him with concern, glancing at Gil-galad to see if this was normal. At the king's warning look, the Shipwright pulled himself together. He tried for a passable smile. "Hello, little ones. I am very glad to see you are well. We were all very worried about you," he said formally.
"He has a beard!" Elros whispered loudly to his brother.
"But I thought mommy said he was an elf. Elves don't have beards," Elrond whispered back, unsure of the strange being before them. Unable to understand this contradiction, the two little elflings looked up to their cousin for the answer. Gil-galad smiled at them.
"Círdan is an elf, despite what he looks like." Círdan scowled at the young king. The little ones looked at the Shipwright skeptically.
Suddenly, Elrond yawned. "Forgive me, cousins. It has been a long day. Why don't we settle in the boat and you can sleep?" Elrond and Elros exchanged a look, knowing that this was their last chance to get away. Once on Balar, there would be no way off. They had to decide now if they trusted this stranger.
Gil-galad sensed their thoughts and waited. Eventually, Elros nodded and Elrond snuggled against his cousin's firm chest, almost instantly asleep. Smiling happily, the young king went up the gangplank.
"Círdan, I want to be able to sail within the hour." The bearded elf could only nod, stunned.
~~~
"Well, Calmo?" Gil-galad asked when the healer approached him. He had been pacing the length of the healer's office for the last few hours. Behind him, Círdan stood up from the bench he had been sitting on.
The short elf looked up at his king with sad eyes, slowly shaking his head. "I have finished examining the boys as you requested," he said.
"And?" Gil-galad almost snapped when Calmo didn't go on.
"I-I'm afraid to tell you, your majesty," the healer stuttered. He looked quite pale and in need of a stiff drink. Círdan watched as Gil-galad's hands curled into fists, but his tone remained remarkably level.
"Calmo, I need to know," he said, but his voice wavered slightly. It was obvious he was afraid of what he might hear. The healer bit his lip, which instantly alerted Círdan. In all the years he had known Calmo, he had never seen him do that.
"Why don't we sit down?" Calmo said, trying to remain professional. He gestured for them to sit near the fireplace. Gil-galad sat uneasily on the edge of the seat. His nervousness was getting to Círdan.
The short healer took a moment to order his thoughts. Sighing, he clasped his hands together to keep from fidgeting. "They have been abused as you thought, my king. Both have lacerations all along their backside, possibly from a whip or belt. I also found evidence of old broken bones that have healed improperly."
Calmo glanced at the king, trying to gauge his reaction to the news, knowing it was only going to get worse. Both Círdan and Gil-galad remained silent, though they had paled noticeably. Clearing his throat nervously, the healer plowed forward. "I have noticed gashes around their ankles and wrists, which I assume are rope burns from prolonged periods of being tied up tightly. Both half-elves are malnourished, which has caused them to be underdeveloped, but I feel that with a proper diet from now on this should not affect their growth adversely.
"Elros has a rather large laceration to his stomach that was infected. I had to reopen this wound to allow purulent drainage. I have packed the wound with herb pouches to fight the infection. He also suffered what I think was an arrow wound to the shoulder that nicked bone. Some infection has set in and I will have to watch the wound closely for the next few weeks. If all goes well Elros should make a complete recovery within the year."
Calmo stopped, bowing his head. "His brother's injuries however. . ." For a moment, he was very still, but as neither Círdan nor Gil-galad could see his face, they could not tell what he was thinking. The healer took a shuddering breath before continuing, keeping his face hidden behind his brown hair. "His right arm is badly broken. I have set it and relieved the swelling. His left ankle was broken awhile ago, but has since healed. However, infection has set in and I have had to break the bone and reset it. Elrond also has a deep gash on his upper right thigh. It too is infected and I have had to cut away dead tissue lining the wound.
"But . . ." the healer said hesitantly, glancing up at the young king. "That is not the worst of it."
"What could be worse than that!" Círdan demanded, sick to his stomach from what he had already heard. Calmo lifted his head, revealing eyes brimming with tears. Both other elves were taken aback. They had never seen the professional healer cry over a patient and the Noldorin elf had seen some of the worst evil that could be done to an elf.
Taking a deep breath, Calmo held his king's gaze. "The younger half-elf has been raped . . . repeatedly." The room descended into complete silence. Gil-galad looked away from the healer's glittering eyes, trying to understand what he himself was feeling. Círdan was speechless. No one knew what to say. Finally, Calmo opened his mouth to continue his report.
"No," the High King said, his hands tightly balled into fists and his eyes firmly shut. "No more. I cannot hear it." The healer shut his mouth with a click. He nodded, understanding completely, and stood up.
"They are sedated at the moment but should wake in the morning. I think they will be glad for your company, my king. I will take my leave of you, your majesty, Shipwright." He bowed to both and then quickly left, looking quite ill. Círdan wouldn't blame him if he went to throw up.
Gil-galad also stood up, walking over to the high-arched window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared blankly at the sea. The ancient Teleri elf watched him for a long moment, uncertain what to say.
After several minutes, Círdan sighed. He stood up and walked over to his friend, placing a supportive hand on the king's shoulder.
"What do I do?" Gil-galad whispered.
"I don't know," Círdan answered truthfully.
"It's my fault," the king said. Círdan frowned, unsure if he had heard correctly. Leaning his head against the cool glass, the king shrugged off the comforting hand. "If I had come earlier, I could have saved the twins, possibly all of Sirion from those bastards."
The bearded elf was taken aback by his foster son's angry declaration. Shaking his head, he forcefully turned the distraught elf around, not at all surprised to see tears on his cheeks. "You listen to me. There was nothing more you could have done. Nothing," Círdan emphasized, gently shaking the king. "The only ones at fault are the sons of Fëanor, no one else. Those little boys need you right now. They can't afford to have you wallowing in guilt, especially when it is baseless guilt. Now, pull yourself together."
The elder elf held his breath, wondering if his speech would work. For a moment, Gil-galad did not react. Then, he straightened his shoulder, a resolute look coming to his eyes. Círdan had never seen him look so regal before. Nodding to himself, the High King marched out of the room.
~~~
Golden rays of dawn peeked into the healing room, revealing two little boys curled together on one large bed. Gil-galad watched them from the doorway. They slept quietly, looking as peaceful as any child does at rest. Knowing the truth, the king sighed and cautiously entered the room.
He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, setting the box he was carrying beside him. Quietly opening the box, he withdrew a large blue stuffed frog. Gil-galad gently lifted Elros' arm and put the animal in his embrace.
The elder half-elf murmured in his sleep but remained undisturbed. Returning to the box, the king withdrew a furry gray seagull. Gil-galad gently placed the gift in Elrond's grasp. The younger half-elf instantly clutched his new toy close.
Smiling sadly, the king reached up and tenderly stroked Elrond's silky hair. His cousins had been washed and bandaged, and now wore new clothes. In Gil-galad's eyes, it only highlighted how small and fragile they looked.
The king carefully stood up. He leaned over and gave each boy a kiss on the crown of his head. "I promise no one will ever hurt you again," he whispered, straightening up. "I will protect you. I will keep you safe."
With a last lingering look, Gil-galad turned to leave. He didn't see his cousins open their eyes to watch his retreating figure. They exchanged soft smiles. Elros moved closer to Elrond, taking his small hand in his. Gently squeezing it, he rested his head next to his brother's, their foreheads touching. Soon they drifted off to sleep.
THE END
******
A/N
Obviously Elrond and Elros were never abused and were likely not raised by Gil-galad. Cannonly, they probably stayed with Maglor and Maedhros until adulthood. Indeed:
"For Maglor took pity on Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought . . ." Of the Voyage of Eärendil from The Silmarillion.
As for the names:
Variation #1: "The names Elros and Elrond that Elwing gave to her sons were held prophetic . . . it was Elros who voyaged over sea to Númenor . . . Elrond was a word for the firmament, the starry dome as it appeared like a roof to Arda; and it was given by Elwing in memory of the great Hall of the Throne of Elwë . . ." Pg 371 of The Peoples of Middle Earth.
Variation #2: "Elros and Elrond . . . were so called, because they were carried off by the sons of Fëanor . . . The infants were not slain, but left like 'babes in the wood', in a cave with a fall of water over the entrance. There they were found: Elrond within the cave, and Elros dabbling in the water." Tolkien's letters # 211.
I'm going with the first variation even though Tolkien said it was flawed with regards to the meaning of Cair Andros (you'll have to read it, because I didn't understand it).
Lastly, Calmo is my creation. He doesn't belong to Tolkien.