Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elrond is entranced.

He’s  found himself once again an extra mouth at Disa’s table, hypnotized by the atmosphere of warmth and familial love that fills the corridor.  A lazy smile plastered on his face, elbow resting on the table and balancing his head on the back of his wrist, staring intently at the scene before him. 

This evening,  Gerda and Gamli have made a rare, somewhat un-chaotic appearance. 

Somewhat. Elrond hasn’t missed the small glances thrown his way from the two children, nor is he immune to their whispers of speculation and wonder of their elven dinner guest. And he is especially not spared of their plans to interrogate him. Still, like any playful elf, he feigns ignorance,  superficially engrossed in the conversation of his two hosts. 

Disa and Durin recount yet another story of their time in the mines together, completely lost in each other’s eyes to notice the two small dwarves making their way towards Elrond’s side of the table. 

“Pa says you’re thousands of years old. Is this true?!”  Elrond is shoved unceremoniously to the side of his chair, making room for Gerda as she sits beside him, “says you might be older than the mountains.”

“No ones older than the mountains!” Gamli pulls his own seat beside Elrond, staring up at him in wonder, “especially not an elf!” 

“You’d be surprised, young ones. I have a friend who is older than the moon.” By the way the childrens’ jaws hang agape, Elrond can tell he’s landed the line perfectly. 

“Not true!”  Gerda shouts. 

“Impossible!”  Gamli adds, leaning forward in his chair, yelping as he falls forward into Elrond’s lap. 

“It is quite possible,” Elrond smiles as he steadies Gamli, “I myself have watched the formation of many a dwarven kingdom.”  

“Gamli, Gerda, you menaces! Stop interrogating Elrond, he is our guest!”  Durin shouts, “let him eat in peace!”

“But he’s practically family. That’s what you and Pa say. So it’s okay!” 

“But we don’t antagonize our loved ones, at least not all the time.” Durin corrects, “Especially not about his age.” 

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind.” Elrond responds, ear twitching as Gamli reaches for it, “it’s been some time since i’ve been around young ones.” 

“You don’t have many young amongst the elves?” Disa’s interest is piqued, “I would imagine with you all living forever there would be no need.”  With Elrond’s attention on Disa, Durin seizes the opportunity to snag his children away from the elf, much to their obvious dismay. 

“You are right in your assumption, Disa. In fact, the last child amongst the elves I can recall is my own brother. And that was thousands of years ago.” 

“Your brother, Elros?” Durin supplies. Elrond nods, “We were quite the handful. Moreso than your own children, I fear.” 

“I’m sure you ran your poor mother up the wall.” Disa laughs heartily, sipping her wine, “You children do numbers on your mothers.”

 Elrond’s smile falters slightly, and his gaze drops to the auburn liquid in his cup. He thinks of the flames of Sirion and blood covered Feanorians. He thinks of his mother’s blood soaked gown, tattered and worn as she runs with the Silmaril clutched to her breast. He thinks as she chooses a jewel over her sons. 

“Elrond?” Durin’s gentle voice calls, red brows knitted tightly, “are you alright?” 

Elrond looks up, his gaze resting gently on the fiery red hair. And he thinks of Maedhros. 

“I am better than alright, my friend. One as old as I am tends to get lost and thoughts, and your question took me down a rather long memory lane.” 

“Oh dear, I hope I didn’t offend you!”

“Quite the opposite. But to your question, unfortunately my mother’s decisions left me alone. But not for long. We were taken in by the Son of Feanor, elves who have both marred and enhanced the beauty of Middle Earth. When we met, they had destroyed my home. But they gave me and my brother a new one. Back then, I hadn’t realized how difficult we were to them.” Elrond chuckles, “watching you two gives me a new appreciation for them both, though I appreciated them as much as I could when they were with me.” 

Disa smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She seemingly lost in thought of her own, “To unsuspecting fathers, then.” 

Elrond raises his glass, “To unsuspecting fathers.”

“And you do more than simply watch, Elrond.” Disa sips her glass, “you are practically a second father to them. In fact, Durin and I were talking about you and the children last night.” 

“We were?”
“You were?” 

Elrond can’t tell what’s more amusing, Durin’s obvious confusion or the varied expressions Disa goes through to jerk his memory. 

“Diplomacy, remember?” She relents after some time, “getting the children used to the woods?” 

“Ahh–yes—we wanted to know if you felt comfortable taking the children with you, a lesson in diplomacy." Durin takes a bit of the mutton on his plate, “Get ‘em used to the woods.  Especially Gamli–seeing as he’ll be King one day. He’ll need to know a thing or two about the woods and dealing with the elves.”

“And we lady dwarves seldom leave the mountain. It’s of our own choice, of course, but I’d hope Gerda would choose differently.” Disa’s voice is bubbly with wonder, “I wish I’dve  spent more time outside of the mountain in my youth. I was too busy singing’ to the rocks–and don’t give me that look Gerda, you’re going in the woods. Elrond’ll look after you.” 

Complaints and questions ensue immediately. Elrond tries to speak, but the words fall silent on his tongue. His heart swells. 

“You’d trust me with your children? In the woods amongst the elves?” 

“Honestly Elrond, it’s them we don’t trust. We’ll give them a stern talking to before you take ‘em.” Durin glares at his kids, “we want you to come back in one piece.” 

Any complaints or reluctance Elrond wants to voice is drowned out by laughter and music.

Chapter Text

They leave the mountain in song. Well, the children do. Elrond listens engaged, occasionally humming along with their words and tunes. Autumn has come early this year, bringing with it cooler temperatures and a visage of orange and red leaves. He’s grateful that the children will be able to experience the woods during the fall. 

They’re safe with him, and as such have been permitted to leave the kingdom with no escort save for Elrond himself. His ears are tuned to the smallest ant crawling underneath the floor of leaves, his eyes honed in on the forest around them. 

“Will we go to Lindon?” Gerda stops her tunes, “I want to see the elven King!”

“Me too!” Gamli chimes in, “and then I want to see more elves! I want to learn magic.” 

Elrond’s laugh is a gentle rumble on the cool breeze, “One would think you see my people as a circus exhibit. We are no more magical and otherworldly than you.” Though he feigns offense, Elrond cares little about their thoughts on the elves. To their credit, elves were vastly different. Especially the High King himself. Elrond considers it a blessing that he only shares half of his blood with such an elusive species. 

“And we will see the elves, but not in Lindon. Lindon is much too far for the three of us to travel. We’ll go to Eregion.” 

“What is Eregion?” “Will there be elves?” They ask in quick succession. 

“There are only elves,” Elrond reassures, “Elves who would love to meet you.” 

And indeed they do. 

The children squeal as the fair city of Eregion comes into view, and it takes all of Elrond’s multitasking to keep them from running ahead of him. The gates are wide open, and a small host of workers flank their lord as he makes to greet Elrond and his charges. 

Celebrimbor’s enthusiasm shines brightly at welcoming the future Dwarven king and princess into his halls, no matter how little they may be. And Elrond himself is ecstatic about exposing Gamli and Gerda to his own culture. 

“A city of just elves! How amazing!” Gerda squeals, “are they old?”

“I bet you they’re older than the mountains.” Gamli adds, “Super old! Older than the sun!” 

“The Lord of Eregion, Celebrimbor, is indeed that old.” Elrond smiles, “old and wise. Like your grandpa.”

They spoke for some time longer about the elves and the dwarves, and begged and begged for Elrond to sing a song as they traveled. 

–

Eregion is just as Elrond left it. The city is bathed in orange light as the sun descends behind its pillars. The lord of the city is there to greet them immediately, a party of elves behind him. 

Elrond greets his Lord, inclining his head deeply. Gamli and Gerda look at Elrond, hesitate, and now themselves, curly red hair sweeping the floor. 

"I take it these are the young dwarf prince and princess?" Celebrimbor turns towards the two, “You may raise your heads, young ones.” 

The waste no time, an ear to ear smile plastered on their faces. 

"Can we say hi to him Elrond-" Gamli chimes. 

"Can we give him a hug?" Gerda adds. 

Elrond casts a sheepish gaze towards Celebrimbor, wordlessly begging the Lord to agree.  

"Well I don't see why not." Celebrimbor says, baffled. Elrond almost feels bad for the Lord of Eregion. Not many elves have had the unique pleasure of being tackled by a hoard of young dwarves (Elrond himself is still recovering from his embrace with Disa).

His fate is sealed when he gives them permission, and they run towards him with a swiftness, barreling into his body and embracing him with all the tightness they can muster.

“My goodness, I thought you said you were bringing dwarves to Eregion, not trolls!" 

Elrond erupts into a fit of laughter, while the host of elves, standing idly around, exchange slightly concerned looks. 

"Indeed. I find our dwarvish counterparts at times forgetting their strength. Gamli, Gerda, please free our host!" 

"Sorry!"

"Sorry!"

They release him immediately, and Celebrimbor makes a dramatic show of rubbing his ribs. Elrond snickers, placing a comforting hand on his charges’ shoulder. “Save your strength for working in the forges.”

“I still find it difficult to believe that young dwarves are able to work in the forges.” Celebrimbor begins as his elves relieve the company of their belongings, “I don’t recall my grandfather allowing anyone into his forge under a certain age.” 

“Fa–Maglor used to say that you were in the forges since before you could talk.” Elrond challenges, “I assume dwarves are the same.” 

“Our line was an exception,”  the elven lord chuckles, “I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. My father hauled me into the Forge the moment I opened my eyes, and the rest was history.”

“Well I think elven society is grateful for your lack of choices as a child,” Elrond says, “you’ve contributed greatly to it.”

“I only wish I was a faster learner. Took me longer than most to learn–” 

Gamli and Gerda seize the opportunity to wedge themselves into the situation, absolutely unable to hold back their delight of smithing. 

“We dwarflings know how to forge right from our mothers wombs! We just need the right instruction and guidance.” 

“Please, bring us to a workshop and we’ll do the rest!” 

— 

Elrond collapses onto his bed the moment he arrives in his quarters. 

The children have been engrossed in Celebrimbor’s workshop for hours, fed and bathed, and then taken to the workshop again to continue their earlier project. 

Elrond had no interest in the smithing and sought the first opportunity to rest away from the children the moment he was able. He loves them dearly, as if they are his own, but they are constantly in need of attention. He feels particularly human this evening, his body heavy with aches and pains as he pulls the thick covers over his body. He estimates he’ll have only half an hour before his rest is interrupted by Gamli and Gerda.  At best.

“You do so look like your father.” 

Elrond jumps, heart lurching into his stomach. He unsheathes the Feanorian blade he keeps hidden under his robe, ready to strike at his assailant hidden in the shadows. 

“Peace Elrond.” Celebrimbor emerges from his enclave, the moonlight illuminating his elven features, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“Lord Celebrimbor,” Elrond sighs and sinks back into bed, “I could have hurt you.” 

“You are skilled Elrond, no doubt trained by my uncle, but you could not have landed a blow,” Celebrimbor descends onto the chair beside Elrond’s bed, smiling, “Your dwarflings fell asleep in the forge, but they have been moved to their own rooms.” 

Celebrimbor catches Elrond by the arm just as he stands to go retrieve his charges, and gently pushes him onto the bed, “They are skilled workers already, and I’ve let them know that they are free to visit our forges in the future.” 

“Thank you my Lord.”

“They are very fond of you, you know.” Celebrimbor states, “one would say you’re much closer than a chaperone. Almost like a third parent.” 

Elrond rises sharply, the weariness fleeing him all at once. 

“My lord, I-” 

“Peace, Erond. Peace.” Celebrimbor chuckles, “your relationship with them is not mine to condemn. Especially if that relationship is causing no harm. At least not to your dwarven companions.” 

The young elf perks up at the tail end of Celebrimbor’s exchange. 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my Lord?”

Celebrimbor shifts uncomfortably atop of the bed, “I know you are accustomed to much loss, Elornd. And I have watched as each one chips away at you like chisel to a rock. To be involved with a family is to be involved with an eternity of heartbreak. Your dwarves will die, and so will their descendents who you will love. Are you prepared for that, Elrond?” 

This conversation isn’t new to him.  He’s had it hundreds of years before Durin and Disa, and he’s certain he’ll have it years later. He has it with himself every evening before bed. 

 And yet, the familiarity never dulls the blade that his immortality is. 

“My Lord Celebrimbor, I-" 

His teeth nearly clamp down on his tongue as his doors are flung open. 

 “Elrond we were looking for you!"

"We fell asleep and woke up and you weren't there!"

Elrond knows they mean well, and that their words are doused with weariness and fear, but they hurt nonetheless. Alongside the heaviness that Celebrimbor’s conversation has brought upon them, this is almost too much. 

He remembers his father leaving and his mother following soon after, he remembers the way his heart ached at their absence.

They could save the world, yet they couldn't take he and Elros with them. 

"Oh Gamli and Gerda, please forgive me," he extends his arms, "I hadn't realized I'd been away for so long." They don’t hesitate, and throw themselves into Elrond’s warm embrace, burrowing their head into his thick robes. 

"You have to promise to stay with us forever and ever!" 

"Even when we get old and gray."

Elrond can’t help his eyes from welling with tears, though blinks them away. No need to worry the children. Or Lord Celebrimbor for that matter. 

Still, he catches a hint of sadness in-between Celebrimbor's smile, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Elrond doubts the dwarflings even realize Celebrimbor is there, as they've fully dedicated themselves to suffocating the life from him.

"I shall take my leave. Do try not to kill the kings Herald, your highnesses. We elves are not as sturdy as your kind," Celebrimbor inclines his head gently, making himself known,  "sleep well, the three of you."

He leaves with a chorus of "Good Night" from the two children, leaving Elrond with no chance to properly say goodbye to Celebrimbor. Not that he's particularly upset about it.

The conversation was dreary. But it's to be expected of the Feanorians. He's heard from elves living on the sea that dreariness is all his foster father is now.

Regardless, the weight of the two children seems to press the sadness from him. And after singing them several Quenyan rhymes, they all drift asleep