7. Not The Only Way To Go

The door banged open, and Elrond clattered into the house. He knuckled Elros’s head, and Elros laughed and chased him into the kitchen. He managed to land one good-natured punch on Elrond’s arm, and then they both grabbed handfuls of shelled hazelnuts from the bowl in front of Maglor.

“Stop that,” Maglor said. “Those were to go into dinner tonight. How can I cook when I have two adolescent boys eating everything in sight?” But he smiled as he said it, and Elros and Elrond merely grinned at him as they ate their stolen nuts.

“It is a good thing there are only two of us,” Elrond said. “Your parents must have been at their wits’ end with seven.”

“Not all at once, fortunately,” Maglor replied. “Though Amrod and Amras did prove a handful. Of course, they had five older brothers to teach them manners.”

“What are you cooking tonight?” Elros asked.

“I had planned to try rolling trout in nut meal and frying them,” Maglor said. “It is a Sindar style of cooking fish, and I have found that I enjoy that mode of cooking.”

Elrond shrugged. “I hope we have enough.”

“Do not fear. I made sure to take a whole fish for each of you from the traps.”

“That is not what I meant.” Elrond held out a grubby letter to Maglor. “Uncle Maedhros sent this. He plans to arrive this evening, for he has something important to tell you.”

Maglor raised an eyebrow at Elrond as he took the letter from Elrond’s hand. “I thought I told you that it is impolite to read other people’s letters.”

“I did not read it. The messenger told me what was in it.”

Sure enough, the seal was intact. Maglor broke it carefully and read the message inside. Maedhros had not written any further details about his mission. Maglor sighed, and folded the letter, then turned to Elros and Elrond.

“Well, it seems that we will be four tonight at dinner instead of three. I will go and clean another trout. You will crack more hazelnuts to replace what you have stolen.”

The twins laughed, and reached for nutcrackers.

When Maedhros arrived, Maglor knew immediately that all was not well. Maedhros’s smile was a little too broad, his laugh a little too hearty as he greeted Elros and Elrond and embraced Maglor. However, he seemed determined to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary, and Maglor decided to go along with the game, at least until they had eaten. He took Maedhros’s cloak and hung it by the door.

“Welcome,” he said. “Dinner is nearly ready. I am sure that you are hungry. I know that the boys are.”

“That is no great guess,” Maedhros said. “They are always hungry recently. I am surprised they have not yet eaten you out of house and home.”

“Ha. Father and Mother survived having adolescent twins. I will do the same.” Maglor glanced around the room. “Elros, will you help Maedhros get ready for dinner? Elrond, please come and set the table. The sooner you start, the sooner we may eat.”

The twins needed no further prompting, and everyone soon sat at the table, eating and talking. Maedhros still had not brought up his important message, and his eyes darted furtively around the table. It made Maglor profoundly uneasy, but he knew that Maedhros would not reveal anything if pushed. Elros and Elrond chattered about an expedition that they planned to take the next day with a friend of theirs. This friend’s mother was an herbalist, and had planned to take all three boys out into the woods to teach them how to identify, harvest, and prepare some of the simpler remedies she used.

“The fish is truly excellent, Maglor,” Maedhros said, when the twins paused for breath. “Your skill at cooking never ceases to amaze me.”

“It is not a difficult art to master,” Maglor replied. “Elros and Elrond have begun to learn some of the skills, and they are able assistants.” He glanced around the table and noted that the fish fillets had disappeared. “Boys, will you clear the table? Set the dishes to soak and bring in the bowl of berries and cream. They plucked the berries this morning,” he told Maedhros as Elros and Elrond cleared the table.

Maedhros nodded, and a shadow passed over his face. He watched until the boys had left the room. For a moment, no one spoke. Maglor could hear the water splashing in the kitchen. At last, Maedhros took a deep breath and looked Maglor in the eye.

“It is time,” he said.

Maglor frowned. “Time for what?”

“Morgoth’s army is rising again. There have already been several battles, and our aid is desperately needed. We have one last chance to defeat the Enemy and regain the Silmarils. I require your assistance in this matter, as I have in the past.”

Maglor chewed his lip and looked down at the table. “I suppose that is fair,” he said. “Elros and Elrond are old enough to care for the house by themselves, and –“

“No.” Maedhros’s soft word startled Maglor.

“You cannot mean . . . I will not take them to war, Maedhros. I will not do that to them.”

Maedhros’s jaw tightened, and he had to force the next words from his mouth. “It is time, Maglor. You cannot keep them any longer. They have distracted you from your Oath long enough.”

A sick knot twisted in Maglor’s stomach, and he feared that he would vomit the fine dinner he had just eaten. “I made promises to the boys as well, Maedhros. I will not allow you to kill them. Not now, not after all these years.”

Pottery crashed behind them. Maglor and Maedhros whirled around to see Elros and Elrond standing just inside the main room, the shattered remains of a bowl of raspberries and cream at their feet, and identical expressions of disbelief and horror on their faces. Maedhros closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You and I both know that they present a complication in our quest,” he said quietly. “But you are right. To kill them now would be –“

“Unthinkable,” Maglor snapped, tensing himself to rise and defend Elros and Elrond if need be.

“Yes. Unthinkable. But they cannot stay with you any longer.” Maedhros glanced away from Maglor and began to undo the straps on the steel hand he wore at mealtimes. He did not meet Maglor’s eyes as he spoke. “They are not old enough to fight, that is true. But they are old enough to serve as pages, or squires, perhaps.”

“Whom would they serve in such a capacity?” Maglor asked. “You? I would not allow that.”

“What about Gil-galad?” Maedhros replied. He finished unstrapping his steel hand, and laid it gently on the table. “Do you not think it time to return Elros and Elrond to their own folk?”

Maglor had no immediate answer for that. Elros and Elrond took advantage of the momentary silence and stormed forward. “You cannot send us away, Maglor,” Elros cried. “You promised! You promised that we would always be a family.”

“Do not blame Maglor,” Maedhros said. “This is not his doing. It is mine, and I am not giving him any choice in the matter.” He turned to Maglor. “I do not wish to invoke my authority as Head of the House of Fëanor, but if I must . . . “

“You cannot haul Elros and Elrond off to Gil-galad just like that,” Maglor said. “He would likely have you killed as soon as he saw you, and to dump the twins in his lap with no warning –“

“He has had warning,” Maedhros said. He rose and walked to the cloakroom, returning with a letter bearing Gil-galad’s seal. This he dropped on the table in front of Maglor. “He has already agreed to my arrangements. In writing. We will leave tomorrow morning, and meet him at a location five days’ ride from here. He will take custody of Elros and Elrond then.”

Maglor opened the letter. The text confirmed Maedhros’s words. Maglor could do nothing except stare at the page. He was vaguely aware when Elros embraced him and began to weep. Elrond stood straight, choked down tears, and glared at Maedhros.

“I hate you,” he said. “You led the attack on Sirion that destroyed our first home, and now you will wrench us away from our second. You are a horrible person, Maedhros Fëanorion, and I hate you forever.” With that, he turned away from Maedhros and put his arms around his brother and his guardian, though there was no comfort to be found in that embrace.

The little party set out for the meeting place early the next morning. Elros and Elrond had packed some of their clothes and a few favorite objects, but they had left the majority of their treasures and possessions behind, never to be seen again. Maglor had packed food for the family, but Maedhros’s guards had to provide for themselves. Now, Maglor sat tall and straight on his horse, riding behind his brother along the narrow trails that would lead to his doom.

They did not speak as they rode, for there was nothing about which to speak. Maglor tried to concentrate on nothing beyond the immediate present, the cool, fresh air, the motion of his horse, and the details of the trail. He knew that he would fall from his horse, weeping, if he dwelled too long on memories of the twins’ childhood, and he could not bear to contemplate the immediate future. So he lived in a fantasy of the present, in which this lovely journey went on forever, never coming to an end.

When they made camp in the evenings, the twins would build a fire, and Maglor would cook something simple. After they had eaten, they would sit and watch the fire die, and Maglor would sing to the twins or tell them a favorite story. Maedhros always sat slightly apart, and did not presume to intrude upon them. Only once did he speak to Maglor.

“You have raised them well,” he said, as Maglor tucked a blanket around the sleeping boys. “Gil-galad will be pleased when he meets them.”

“I do not care what Gil-galad thinks,” Maglor replied. “Would you care about the preferences of the man who was to rip your heart from your body?” He made a show of unrolling his own blanket and lying down beside Elros and Elrond, signaling that the conversation was at an end.

One evening, Maedhros announced quietly that they would meet Gil-galad the next morning. No one had much of an appetite, but Maglor made Elros and Elrond swallow a little food, and he forced himself to choke down a few bites as well. After they had finished their attempt at supper, Maglor put an arm around each of the boys and drew them close, as he had not done since they had become young men, and had declared themselves too old for such displays of affection. They did not protest this liberty, but snuggled closer. Elros laid his head on Maglor’s shoulder.

In a halting voice, Maglor began to speak of Sirion, of the dreadful battle that had led to his adoption of the twins. He described everything that he had seen and done on that terrible day, and did not omit a single deed. He spoke of how he and his bodyguards had pursued Elwing higher and higher through the keep, and how they had cut down those of Elwing’s ladies who had dared to offer resistance. At last, he described his final confrontation with Elwing.

“I did not lay one finger on her,” Maglor said, “but I bear the blame for her fate. I forced a choice upon her that she should never have had to make. I made her choose between her life and the jewel, and she chose the jewel. I cannot blame her for that choice, though it grieves me even now to tell of it.”

He paused, and squeezed his eyes shut. Elrond brushed away tears, and Elros clung to Maglor. Maglor took a deep breath, and shifted the twins so that he could look them both in the eye.

“I have had many years now to contemplate my actions that day,” he said. “Of all the evil deeds I have done in my life, that is the one I regret the most, forcing Elwing to make that choice. I had thought that we would have more time to approach this on our own terms, but that has not been granted us. Tomorrow, you will go with Gil-galad, and return to your own people. I do not anticipate that we will ever meet again. And so I ask you, Elros, Elrond, on this night, I beg your forgiveness for the wrong I have done you.”

The twins looked at each other for several long moments. Maglor wondered, not for the first time, if they were actively sharing their thoughts or merely thinking the same thing. Whatever the process, they seemed to come to a wordless agreement and turned back to him.

“You took our mother and our old life from us,” Elros said, “but you did not act alone in that; Uncle Maedhros commanded you. Yet you gave us a home and a new life afterwards, and you showed us the loving kindness of a true father. This you did of your own will. For myself, I consider that you have paid that particular debt. I forgive you willingly.”

“I forgive you as well,” Elrond said. “But I will not extend that courtesy to Maedhros.”

In spite of himself, Maglor smiled at that. “Well, that is your own business, Elrond,” he said. “But I am grateful for your love and forgiveness.”

Elrond bowed his head and peeked at Maglor from beneath his eyelashes. “Can you not come with us tomorrow?” he asked. “We could ask Gil-galad to let you stay with us.”

Maglor sighed. “I wish I could agree to that. But Maedhros is correct in one regard. I did swear an Oath, once upon a time, before your parents were a glimmer in your grandparents’ eyes. I am bound by that Oath. I put it aside for a while to raise you, but I cannot renounce it forever. I must follow Maedhros.”

Elros stifled a yawn, and Maglor began to hunt around for blankets. “Perhaps it is time to go to sleep,” he said.

“I do not want to sleep,” Elrond said, trying and failing to hold back a yawn of his own. “Tonight is our last night together. I do not wish to waste it sleeping.”

“We will have a hard day tomorrow,” Maglor said. “We all need our rest. Will you two sleep by my side tonight? That way, we can still pass the night together.”

The twins agreed eagerly, and they snuggled down, one on each side of Maglor, as they had done when they were small. Despite their protests that they were not sleepy, they were soon walking the path of dreams. Maglor remained awake a while longer, but eventually, the soft breathing of the children he had raised as his own lulled him to sleep as well.

The next morning dawned all too quickly. Maglor made Elros and Elrond wash themselves as thoroughly as possible, and shook out the best of the clothing they had packed. After they had dressed, he inspected them to make sure that they were presentable, their hair neatly combed, and their clothes hanging just so. Elros and Elrond endured the attention in stunned silence, their hands clasped tightly together. Maedhros watched the process from a distance, but did not interfere, knowing that the real reason for Maglor’s fussing and activity was to prevent himself from weeping.

At last, even Maglor could not find anything else about the boys’ appearance to correct. Maedhros inspected the campsite one final time, then gave the soft, gruff order to move out. They mounted their horses and began the short ride that would take them to the meadow that Gil-galad had designated as a meeting place.

With every step his horse took, Maglor withdrew deeper into himself, letting layer after layer of protective numbness bury his heart. He had lost people he loved before, more times than he cared to think about, but not since Nerdanel had left their home had the process been so slow, so formal and polite.

The trees ahead of them grew thinner, and Maedhros called a halt. He motioned to a page, who rummaged around on one of the pack ponies until he found a clean, white handkerchief. He cut a switch from a young tree near him and tied the handkerchief to it to make the white flag of parley. This he handed to Maedhros, who tucked it into the crook of his right arm. Then Maedhros commanded the party to move forward again. They emerged onto the meadow to meet Gil-galad and his escort in a flood of sunshine.

Gil-galad appeared to have arrived at the meeting point some time earlier. His troops had pitched tents and cleared ground for a cooking site. At the moment, they waited, mounted in silent formation, behind their lord. Gil-galad himself waited somewhat apart from the rest, mounted upon a large bay horse, resplendent in shining armor, with the crown of the Noldor kings upon his head. At his side stood a tall, strange Elf who wore no armor, and whose long silver beard fluttered slightly in the wind. Although he had never met the Elf, Maglor guessed that he must be Círdan the Mariner.

Maedhros halted just at the edge of the meadow and raised his flag. Gil-galad nodded, and beckoned them forward. They halted again at a distance close enough to exchange words, but too far to exchange friendship. Maedhros handed the flag to his page and raised his left hand in greeting.

“My Lord Gil-galad, and my King,” he said. “I have come to this field, as we arranged, to deliver the sons of Eärendil and Elwing into your custody. They are unharmed and in good health, just as I have described to you.”

“Maedhros Fëanorion,” Gil-galad replied. “I am gratified to see that you have honored the terms of our arrangement. Let the sons of Eärendil come forward, and I will give you leave to depart in peace.”

Moving as if through water, Maglor dismounted and unloaded the twins’ packs from the pony that bore them. Elros and Elrond dismounted and stood huddled close together, not daring to take a step toward Gil-galad. Maglor set their packs at their feet, managing to remain outwardly calm and in control. Elrond glanced nervously over his shoulder at Gil-galad, then suddenly flung his arms around Maglor.

“Farewell, Maglor,” he said. “I love you.”

Elros moved forward and joined the embrace. “I love you, too,” he said. “I will never forget you, I promise.”

Maglor opened his mouth to speak his last farewell, but at that moment, a sharp pain shot through his chest, and his throat swelled so that no sound came forth. Instead, he clasped the boys tightly for a brief, eternal moment, then slowly and deliberately opened his arms to let them go. They shouldered their packs, then turned and began to walk across the field towards Gil-galad and Círdan. Elrond paused once and glanced back over his shoulder. Then Gil-galad and Círdan were greeting the boys, and pages were relieving them of their packs and ushering them into a tent, and then they were gone. There was nothing left. Even the pain in Maglor’s chest faded away, leaving emptiness behind.

Maedhros and Gil-galad exchanged polite formulas of farewell, and it was time to leave. Maglor mounted his horse without thinking, and followed Maedhros back into the woods. They rode without speaking for a while, for Maglor would not be roused, but sat as if blind, deaf, and mute, allowing his horse to carry him along.

At last, Maedhros called a halt, and the party dismounted to stretch their legs. Maedhros put his arm around Maglor and steered him behind a small thicket for privacy.

“You were very brave,” he said. “I am sorry to have caused you such pain, but we both know that it is better this way. They are alive and with their own people now, as they should be.”

Maglor hung his head and said nothing. Maedhros sighed, and gathered his brother into a tender embrace. “When this war is over,” he said, “our Oath to Father will be fulfilled. You shall have a Silmaril for your own, one of the fairest jewels the world has yet beheld, shining with the light of the Trees that are now vanished from the world. You will have one of Father’s creations, Maglor, a little piece of him. Would you not like that?”

Maglor tilted his face up and stared at Maedhros with eyes that had no life in them. He had no desire for a Silmaril now, but he supposed that, all things being equal, having one was better than not having one. “Yes,” he murmured. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Maedhros led him back to the rest of the party, and they mounted their horses and rode onwards.

In due time, they came to the parting of the ways. Maedhros turned to Maglor and smiled at him. “Come and spend some time in my house, Maglor,” he said. “You will not be haunted by memories of Elros and Elrond there.”

This made sense to Maglor, and he followed Maedhros down his trail. He never set foot in his own house again.