Work Text:
Gwinig
Maglor was pacing.
Normally, the 2nd oldest son of Feanor was calm and collected. At least, since he found a home again in Aman. Back in Middle Earth, he had often wandered aimlessly, his spirit never truly at rest. He had found peace here.
However, at the moment, some of the familiar anxiety had returned. He wanted to help, but his aid had been refused.
So he had tried to distract himself; he had been working on a composition, but today the notes would not come. Ignoring the urge to throw his harp across the room in frustration, he had set it aside and went outside to work on the bench he had been building. When he jammed his finger for the 3rd time, he actually did throw the hammer across the lawn before stalking away towards the river which flowed near Elrond’s house. The whispering of the water over the stones usually brought him some peace, but today it was more of an annoyance. Frustrated, he got to his feet and made his way back towards the main hall.
Where he now found himself.
Pacing.
Back and forth, from one end of the hallway to the other, in front of a large, beautifully carved door.
He froze at the pained sounds on the other side of it, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. It was only getting worse.
But no, he was asked to stay outside the room. ‘Asked’ being a polite word for it. “More like forced,” he grumbled, flinching as another cry of pain emanated through the wood.
Suddenly he felt a hand clap his shoulder, “Cheer up dearadar, this is a happy occasion!” a much-too-cheerful voice said.
“Things do not sound so happy in there,” Maglor grumbled, annoyed at the happy expression on Elladan’s face. “Where is your brother?”
Elladan motioned at the door, “Inside with Elweleth, where he should be,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Adar is with them as well.”
“Elrond cannot sing,” Maglor scoffed. “How can he help her?”
“By delivering the baby, like Elweleth wanted,” Elladan replied slowly, like he was trying to explain things to an Elfling.
Which Maglor certainly was not.
“But who will aid her with her pain?” Maglor argued. “You know as well as I that Elrohir sounds like a bull frog when he tries to sing.”
Elladan burst out laughing, “While this is true, his support will be enough to get her through this.” Despite the confidence of his words, he shifted uneasily when another sound of distress was heard, this time much louder.
Maglor narrowed his eyes, “How is Elrohir doing?”
“He, ah…” Elladan stammered. “H-he’s fine.”
“Is he really?” Maglor asked suspiciously. “Because from where I am standing, I get the sense you can tell he is not at all fine.”
“There is nothing either of us can do but wait,” Elladan said, shrugging his shoulders. “Adar will not let us inside, and besides, birth is a messy business. Do you really want to see that?”
At this, an old wound thrummed with pain. A very old wound. One from before he even came to Arda from across the Sea. “Yes, I would,” he whispered.
Elladan clearly read the situation and floundered a bit, “Ah, Maglor, I…I did not mean to…ah…”
Maglor put a hand on Elladan’s shoulder to halt his anxious movements. “It is all right, indyo,” he said softly. “You have done nothing wrong. Just remembering the past.”
“What happened?” Elladan asked hesitantly. “You do not have to tell me, but I am willing to listen.”
There was a heavy silence, punctured only by the occasional moans of pain on the other side of the door. Finally, Maglor sighed. “Very well, but it is not a happy tale.” He eyed the offending barrier of wood one last time before escorting Elladan over to a set of chairs by the fire. It was crackling merrily, but Maglor barely felt it. Once they were both sitting, and Elladan had poured them each a goblet of dark, rich wine, he took a sip and said, “Did you know I was once married?”
Elladan’s brows raised in surprise, “No, I did not. Adar never mentioned it.”
Maglor chuckled humorously, “I never told him I was, for it was long before I ever met your father.”
“How long?”
“We all still lived here, in Aman,” Maglor answered, a little amused at Elladan’s shocked expression, despite the heavy topic of discussion. “I was young then. Young and in love.” He felt a swell of both regret and longing for the Elleth he had not seen for years beyond count.
“What was her name?”
“Narmeleth,” Maglor whispered, a smile crossing his lips.
Elladan smiled a little, clearly curious. “Tell me about her.”
“We met in Tirion, at some gala or party King Finwë was holding. I was slotted to play my harp in a quintet during the dinner hour. I prepared myself to help tune the rest of the players, when a violinist beat me to it. I remember scowling at her as she winked at me.” Maglor chuckled. “She was the smallest Elleth I had ever seen, although my family is considered taller than most. Instead of sitting down in the chair provided for her, she proceeded to skip around the small dais as she played. Her hair would swing in one long, dark sheet, and kept getting me right in the face as I attempted to play my harp. I knew she was doing it on purpose, and made to confront her once we finished our short set.”
“What happened when you met properly?” Elladan asked with a knowing grin.
“She stopped me before I could even utter a word and said, ‘The space was a little too small, if you ask me.’ I did not know what to say, and she laughed in her light, airy way, and said, ‘I’m Narmeleth. Who are you?’”
Elladan laughed. “I am sure you were used to being recognized on sight?”
“Of course!” Maglor replied. “I was the grandson of the King, and well-known in Tirion. Who was this little waif of an Elleth to not know who I was?” He smiled at the memory and shook his head fondly. “Stupidly, I rattled off my full title. She looked less and less impressed as each word came out of my mouth. I worried it was because of who my father was, for he was not well-liked,” Maglor swallowed the painful reminder of Feanor’s continued exile in Mandos and continued. “She made sure to correct me in that regard by saying, ‘Most people only have one name others call them, you know. I suggest you pick one and forget the others.’”
“I bet no one had spoken to you like that before,” Elladan said knowingly.
“Certainly not,” Maglor chuckled. “I wanted to forget about her after that night, but she kept sneaking into my thoughts, and I’d seek her out when I heard she was performing somewhere. It took a while, but eventually we warmed to each other and grew to love one another. Father was not exactly pleased with the match, for Narmeleth was not from a wealthy or powerful family, but Naneth convinced him to come around.”
“That is good,” Elladan said, but Maglor knew he was wondering how this all connected to the labor of Elrohir’s wife.
Maglor’s smile faded. “We were married for only a short time before she became with child.” The memory of the joy he had felt! It had been all-encompassing and the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced. “It was to be a girl, and the first grandchild in the family.”
“It was?” Elladan murmured, looking grieved.
“Yes,” Maglor whispered. “Alas, we never got the chance to meet her.” At this, the Ellon had to take a short break to get a hold of himself. The pain and grief felt just as sharp in this moment as it had so many thousands of years ago. “There was an accident.”
Elladan waited, but when it seemed Maglor would not go on, he gently prodded, “What happened, dearadar?”
The familial endearment roused him from his spiraling thoughts. “Narmeleth loved to walk alongside the riverbank near our home. It had rained heavily the night before, and sometimes the banks become unsteady and slippery.” Maglor swallowed the lump in his throat. “The bank gave way, and she fell into the river. It was running fast because of the recent rains, and while she was a good swimmer…” he bit his lip, trying to force the tears to stay away.
“She drowned?” Elladan whispered, horrified.
Giving up the fight, Maglor let them roll down his cheeks quietly, and nodded, too overcome to speak for a time. Eventually he took a shuddering breath and continued his tale. “I was not home at the time, but Maedhros had come to visit, and somehow spotted her falling into the river. He ran down the bank, slipping and sliding as he went, and was unable to catch up to her for a long distance. Finally he jumped in and carried her out of the water, but it was too late. She was not breathing, and he could not revive her.” Maglor put his head in his hands, feeling the anguish and despair trying to overcome him. He barely noted Elladan’s comforting arm around his shoulders, but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
Finally, after some time had passed, Elladan rose and rekindled the fire. “So do you see why I wish to be in there with Elweleth?” Maglor said. “I wish to see such a happy occasion, and be a part of it. I wish to help ease her pain with my voice, for I have been taught how to heal such things in song. I wish to see a pregnancy end in joy, and not in sorrow.” He huffed a watery laugh. “Although I suppose it is not really my place. She should be with her husband, not an Ellon she barely knows.”
“Ah, that is not true,” Elladan insisted. “You have known her for over a yen now, at least! She loves you as much as Elrohir and I do, I am sure of it.”
Maglor shrugged, “Be that as it may, I will stop hounding the door and let them have their time together.” He eyed Elladan, who was clearly now struggling with whether or not to ask another question. “Go ahead, ask away.”
“Have you ever gone to look for them? Perhaps they are returned from Mandos?”
“Ah…I doubt they would wish to see me, even if they had,” Maglor muttered, his face flushing. “Likely Narmeleth would be ashamed of me, and has found another to love.”
Elladan frowned, “I find that very unlikely. Besides, your daughter should get the chance to know you, do you not think?”
“I do not even know her name, nor if she is even here in Aman,” Maglor argued. “Nay, Elladan, neither of them would wish to be associated with a son of Feanor.”
The younger Ellon frowned in a way which looked eerily similar to how Elrond sometimes looked at him. “It is not your right to decide whether or not your daughter should be a part of your life. She should get to make that choice, and you should give her an opportunity.”
“Ai, penneth, you are just as infuriating as your father sometimes,” Maglor grumbled. This garnered a laugh out of Elladan, which Maglor found welcome, as it replaced the disappointed look he had just worn. “You really think I should seek them both out? Surely they would have heard of my arrival here?” His heart stuttered as he considered they might have been there on the day of his sentencing. “Assuming they are even here and not in Mandos.”
“I think you will regret it if you do not,” Elladan insisted with an encouraging smile. “I will help you!”
The bonding moment was interrupted by a long wail of pain, and despite his plan to stay away, Maglor found himself jumping out of the chair and pulling the door open before he could even think about what he was doing. Luckily, there was a curtain pulled around most of the bed, so Maglor could see nothing except Elrond poking his head around it with a heavy frown. “What are you doing here?” he asked, brow furrowed.
“I…ah, well…” Maglor stammered.
“He just got overexcited, that’s all,” Elladan said breezily, grasping his arm to pull him back out. Elweleth seemed to not really notice anything that was going on except the pain she was in, and Maglor stiffened as she began to beg Elrond to make the pain stop. Elrond softly sang calming words of healing, and Maglor found himself joining in with his own voice before he could stop himself. Luckily, Elrond gave him a smile and seemed to appreciate the help, and Elweleth’s cries became quieter as she felt some relief.
The night lengthened as Elweleth labored on, and in the beginnings of dawn, a much more welcome cry filled the air. “You have a healthy son,” Elrond murmured happily, wiping a tear of joy from his cheek.
“Give him to me,” Elweleth said, wonderment in her eyes as she pulled her son to her chest. “Meleth nin, he is beautiful,” she whispered. Elrohir seemed unable to speak, his eyes trained unblinkingly on his new child as he stroked the downy, dark hair. “Elrohir, what will you name him?”
“I would like to get to know him first,” he said softly. Maglor raised an eyebrow, for he had never heard of such a thing. The father-name is generally given at birth, with the mother-name and chosen name coming later.
But no name?
“Do not worry, little brother, I will think of one for you,” Elladan said cheekily, laughing at his brother’s scowl.
They gave Elrohir and Elweleth some privacy with their new child for a time, until they were ready for visitors. Everyone took a turn holding the baby, with Maglor being the last.
Maglor’s eyes widened as Elrond settled the elfling in Maglor’s arms. He was speechless for a moment as he gazed at the perfection he was holding. “I wonder if this is what you looked like, Ionneg,” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the sleeping bundle in his arms. “He has dark hair, and grey eyes, just like you.” Speaking of which, the lashes fluttered and those beautiful eyes opened, studying Maglor curiously. The similarity was so striking that it seemed to hit him like a physical force.
Elrond was speechless, clearly overcome by his father’s words. Maglor gave him a swift smile, before turning his attention back to the bundle, which was now beginning to fuss and make little coos of distress. “Now now, none of that, gwinig,” he whispered, before beginning to sing a lullaby, which brought forth a surge of memories of singing it to a pair of elflings, long ago.
Ter i lóme, nai lye ómanya rahtuva,
Or i súre, nai lyenna órenya wilyuva...
Nai loruvalye,
Hendu holine...
Nai loruvalye,
Éli calime...
Á sasta ingalya or telcunyat, nanwie nauvar ilye olorilyar
Á pata ter fend' ex’ Ardanna,
Á papátu mina tyelepta cala
Nai loruvalye,
Hendu holine...
Nai loruvalye,
Éli calime...
Á sasta ingalya or telcunyat, nanwie nauvar ilye olorilyar
Sure enough, even before he had finished, the child was sleeping once more. Elrond was blinking back tears as he clearly was remembering the nights spent huddled with his brother under the blankets, as Maglor sung them to sleep.
Settling the child back into the bassinette, he put a comforting arm around Elrond, and they walked out into the study. “Congratulations,” Maglor whispered with a smile. “I never thought I would see the day when my son became a grandfather.”
“Truly, neither did I,” Elrond said ruefully. “At least, in my lowest moments, when I feared I would never see an end to the darkness.”
“Yet, here we are, surrounded by such blessings,” Maglor replied with a tone of disbelief.
“I am glad to be with you, Adar,” Elrond murmured, pulling Maglor into a hug.
“As am I, Ionneg,” he whispered, a feeling of warmth surrounding him. “As am I.”
Translation: Elven Lullaby
Through the night, may my voice reach you,
Over the wind, may my heart fly to you...
May you sleep,
Eyes closed...
May you sleep,
Stars luminous...
Rest your head over my lap, all your dreams will be reality
Step through a door to another Realm,
Slowly walk into the silver light
May you sleep,
Eyes closed...
May you sleep,
Stars luminous...
Rest your head over my lap, all your dreams will be reality
Credit: Elven Lullaby, composed by Forest Elves