Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"My Lord." Egalmoth looked up in surprise when hearing someone address him as he was reading in the garden. The cloudy eyes clued him in pretty quickly that it was a Maia of some kind, and the dark and drap robes narrowed it down to one of the residents of the Halls.

"Yes?" He rose from his seat on the grass.

"A moment of your time." The Maia inclined his head. "Have you heard of the 'fostering' my Lord has started?" Ah, a Maia of Mandos then.

"Yes." He confirmed. A long time in the Halls of Mandos had proved detrimental for young, undeveloped fëa, meaning children could not stay long. At times, it meant either one of their parents had to be reborn prematurely, or they had to be put in new families if no other relative could be found willing to take care of them. He had heard that there were very stringent requirements for foster-families, having to be of a similar socio-economic class so the children would have as close a childhood as their parents would have given them and most importantly having no children of their own or the ability to have children of their own... which he suspected was to prevent some kind of Fëanor-Fingolfin-rivalry-repeat.

"This is Niphredil." The dark figure gently urged a small form forward. "A child of a Nandor-Noldor couple who were minor nobles in Barad Eithel. Her parents cannot yet be reborn, and there are no appropriate couples in Valinor."

"Oh." She looked young, having inherited silver hair from whomever had been her Nandor-parent, but brown eyes from her Noldor one. "Hello, Niphrendil." He crouched down on her level.

"Hello." She was underdressed for a Noldor-noble, even a low one, but he suspected that came from having been reborn recently. She was still young, but clearly not too young to know what was happening, because she was studying him almost as intently as he was her.

"There is a general shortage of childless Nandor-Noldor couples among nobility, and you and your husband are spoken off highly by various children under you."

"You're suggesting we foster her?" Egalmoth looked up, but didn't stand up. He looked back at the girl within a moment.

"You were suggested as a good family for her, yes."

"And you are okay with that?" He knew that there were contingencies in place to make sure the children would understand what was happening and not forget their true parents, but felt he needed to ask anyway.

"Yes." Clearly, she was as sparingly with her words as Rog, which would make for a perfect fit in that regard. "Mom said she and dad will need a long time."

"I see." He rose to his feet, already imagining how Rog's reaction to all this would be. For all that he proclaimed not missing 'a bunch of rambunctious youngsters'... he absolutely missed having kids around. Also, the reaction of their friends, at the two of them being the first parents - barring Idril and Tuor. "My husband is in the forge. Shall we go meet him to see if you like him too?" At her nod, now a fair bit shyer, he offered her his hand, which she took.

"I will return in a few days to see if all goes well." The Maia promptly disappeared, leaving the two of them in the garden by themselves.

"Walk or carry?" He smiled gently as she tucked herself against him.

"Carry." She hesitated. "Please."

"Of course." Picking her up, he reached across his marriage-bond to Rog. His husband would very much appreciate the warning, even though him throwing his hammer through the forge in shock would be hilarious to see.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Tinnuion was happy he had not been drinking when he read the letter from his fathers in Lindon, because he would have spit it all out again in his shock. Instead, he choked on nothing, coughing and gasping for breath for a few moments.

"Tinnu?" Aredhel had visited her son and law-son in Eregion, and they were having a comfortable lunch with Celebrimbor and various dwarves she was sure the Fëanorian smith had just added to their family at this point.

He wheezed, trying to get air in and words out at the same time. Celebrimbor knocking on his back nearly send him sprawling across the lunch-table, which hardly would have been better than if he had sprayed wine, but it did allow him to finally speak.

"They... they are informing my to come to Lindon. I have a little sister." He squeaked as he re-read the pertinent bit of the letter. "One of those fosterlings we've heard about has been put in their care."

"A sister!?" The White Lady of the Noldor reached across the table, snatching the letter from his hand. "Oh Valar, they do!"

As if he'd have lied about that. He sunk down on the chair again. Rog had helped take care of a fair few kids, particularly when they were still stuck on that reed-island on the Mouths of the Sirion, but now they had their own!

"I think I am going to have to leave for a time." What did one even do with little sisters!? Was he expected to bring a gift? Should he ask Uncle Turgon for help? He squeaked again, only managing a mild glare at Celebrimbor's chuckling.

"That is very fair." Fëanor's grandson grinned at him. "You have nothing time-sensitive in the forge, so take as long as you need. Send my congratulations, will you?"

"Oh, I wonder if they send word to Turgon too... I am almost sad I am here now." Aredhel laughed. "The first of his Lords to get kids are one of the same-sex couples! He's going to lose it."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

There were some things that marked Tinnuion as related to Turgon - and the larger Fingolfian branch as a whole. One of which was the very similar reaction to shocking news. Unlike his nephew and sister, no one would be able to ever catch Turgon squeaking, but the table was distinctly more wine-covered than it had been a few moments prior.

"Dad!?" Idril had only barely managed to save most of the paperwork from the fountain of red that had come from her father's mouth.

"Rog and Egalmoth have a kid!" He did recover much faster than his nephew however.

That announcement was met with outcries and questions from the rest of the meeting, which had been the full number of Lords of the city on lake Evendim's shores, planning this year's Tarnin Austa.

"A fosterling." He ignored most of the outcries, just reading the letter. "Formerly of Barad Eithel." His face fell at the reminder, because while his brother had had a Fëanorian escort to safety after the Fifth battle, most of the civilians in the fortress of his father - and later brother - had not been so lucky. "Now of the Heavenly Arch until her real parents are reborn, because she thinks Egalmoth's House is prettier."

The group chuckled at that, dispersing the minor gloom that overcame all of them whenever they remembered what had been lost in the First Age.

"Are they coming here?" Glorfindel, a big child himself at times together with Ecthelion, leaned almost over the entire table.

"Not yet. They want to wait until she's settled a bit."

"Aaawwww..." The golden form drooped a bit, slumping back into his seat.

"They do say they expect she'll manage larger crowds by the festival, if all goes as well as it does now?" The white-clad male chuckled, putting the letter down on a clean bit of table. "So contain yourselves, will you? Not sure what Egalmoth would do to you if you send his daughter running for the hills."

Chapter Text

It took them centuries to feel ready to be reborn again, even without Thalion still falling under the Ban for most of that time. Ulmoica refused to leave him, even though they both knew that meant neither of them would see their daughter grow up.

But now, he was ready, so they both were.

"Who would you like to meet you?" Namo asked gravely, as he asked all fea bound to return.

"Our daughter." They unanimously declared.

The Vala's severe face softened. "I am afraid that will not be possible. She still dwells in Beleriand..." He smiled gently, ever so briefly. "One of her foster-grandfathers still dwells in Valinor, he oversees the trade to and fro. Shall I send for him?"

"Very well." They conceded, only to find themselves outside the halls for the first time in years.

"Well met." The elf greeting them had a clear accent, but his Sindarin was understandable enough. He offered them a pile of clothes, with a leather bag on top. "I am Falthon, if I am pronouncing that correctly... My son is more likely to laugh at my pronunciations of Sindarin than he is in helping me with them."

"Thalion and Ulmoica, sir." He greeted him back, accepting the pile.

"No formality, please, we are kin." Falthon assured them, grinning widely. "You will meet my wife when we hit the harbor, she's arranging passage for you. Unless you wish to sight-see Valinor before heading to Beleriand?"

They finished dressing before answering. "We'd rather see our daughter." They weren't sure if she had remembered what had happened when all three of them had died, and if she had, whether she had ever told anyone... They had to see her, first of all.

The Teleri's eyes twinkled lightly, though they lacked the light of the Trees. "Very well. Do you know how to ride horses?" He lead the way to a campsite a short walk into the forest, and from there, to a harbor they were pretty certain was Alphlond, which he confirmed. Neither had ever seen the famed swan-ships of the Teleri, but if these boats were any indication, they could see why they hadn't wanted to give them up.

"My son will probably apologize to you a few times." Falthon grinned at them from where he was leaning on the railing. "But between my law-son and their older foster-child, it was inevitable she'd become a smith."

"Could be worse?" Ulmoice offered. She had been hearing out her daughter's grandparent for almost all their journey about anything he could tell them of their child. He in turn had gladly obliged, stories ranging from Niphredil's first Tarnin Austa which had apparently resulted in a rash of kids among the peers of her foster-parents, to her achievements in the forges of his law-son. At that last one, he pulled out a brooch, offering it to her with the declaration that it had been made by her little girl.

She'd wept for an hour orso at this first physical proof that however poorly her child might have handled her death, she had certainly recovered well, to have crafted something this beautiful.

Thalion lingered in earshot, but had not really asked anything of their guide himself. She figured he'd only feel well enough for that once they actually met their daughter.

By the time they hit the next harbor, she was full of beans, clinging to the brooch Falthon had in the end gifted to her.

"Ah..." The Teleri briefly forgot them, waving widely at someone on shore, who waved back. "My son." He told them, with a small smile. "Only child."

She looked more closely at the elf now, clearly taking after a Noldor-parent, between his looks and the absolute rainbow of gems decorating him. So this was one of her daughter's foster-parents.

Thalion's hand slipped into hers, as they both noticed the elf tilt his head, then beam. Clearly, he recognized them too.

When they docked - a good while later, considering the range of elvish sight - he was grinning widely. "Well met, parents of my daughter." Falthon had told them that Niphredil clearly took a great deal after her mother, just with her father's coloring, but they had not expected it to be so much anyone could just spot the relation.

"Hi." She smiled weakly.

"I warned my husband, so he warned Niphredil... It would not surprise me if we meet her halfway to the house, depending on whether they let her leave without cleaning her workspace." He gestured them into the city. "I am Egalmoth, and beyond glad you managed to make it. You were sorely missed."

"We were...?" Thalion's voice broke. He had been declared ready to be reborn, but he had yet to forgive himself.

"She knew." The rainbow-clad elf softly answered, grin fading into a small smile. "And understood, but that did not make the loss any less severe."

"She knew..." Her husband echoed brokenly. "Always?"

"Yes. It made no difference." Their fellow parent stopped walking, facing them. "She understood that too." It had been a kindness, to the females. It had not been an easy one to deal for the male.

There was an outcry, from further up the street, drawing their attention as surely as the breaking gates had back in Barad Eithel. Sprinting down the wide cobbled road, she could see why her daughter had been so easily recognized as hers. Between the two of them, they barely managed to brace on time to catch her, laughing and weeping at the same time.

Chapter Text

"Three children." Rog muttered darkly, looking at his spouse.

"Yes." Egalmoth was sitting on the windowsill, watching their eldest play with the newest arrival. The small boy had joined their family just a few weeks ago. Niphredil, whose biological parents had arrived two decades ago, still spend most of her time in the house of those that had raised her, mostly because her forge was there however.

"Why do we have more children than some couples that can make their own!?" The white-haired male demanded, pacing in the room.

"You're a good parent?" The black-haired one countered with a faint grin, laughing softly at the glare that statement earned him. "You are aware you can just say 'no' when the Maia of Mandos arrive, right?"

One of the two ruling Lords of Lindon's northern harbor grumbled, but did not vocally answer. Their marriage-bond was filled with a mixture of fondness and annoyance.

"My poor, poor Dove, thinking himself save from all pretenses of parenthood by marrying the same gender..." The Lord of the Heavenly Arch rose from his seat, teasing grin playing around his lips.

"I guess I should have seen this coming when I married the Mother of Gondolin." The Kindi bared his teeth, crossing his arms. "I am starting to wonder about your maternal urges, my love. Remember when you used to complain about having to keep the gremlins alive?"

"To be fair, I have yet to stop these kids from trying to throw down with a bear." Egalmoth's eyes narrowed at the look on his husband's face. "What?"

"I am sorely tempted to test something." Rog smirked, stepping close enough that he could see their three children outside playing on the grass-field in their garden. Their eldest and second daughter were teaching their second son - first being Tinnu - a dance of some kind. It'd keep them all busy, at least for the next two hours or so. Longer if the middle child pestered the other two to go to the beach again.

"Which would be...?" They were still in their honeymoon-phase, as living cheek to yowl in the refuge-camp at the Sirion had not exactly been conductive to learning one another's tastes, nor did having to deal with traumatized kids, none of which had been able to sleep alone in the beginning.

"Well, Niphredil is going to take them to her parents this weekend..." The Lord of the Hammer of Wrath poked his spouse in the ribs, which rewarded him with a squeak more in line with their eldest than anyone else. "I am half-wondering..."

"Yes...?" The archer backed away some, slapping the poking hands lightly to keep them from his various squishy body-parts.

The smith did not answer in words, but merely opened their marriage-bond, sending an image through.

"Rog!" Olfu's grandson sounded like he didn't know whether to be scandalized... or excited. "No!"

"Yes." He purred, grinning widely. "It's a legitimate concern at this point!"

"NO!" The slighter male dodged away from the grasping hands. "We are NOT doing that!"

"We are!" Carefree in a way his husband so rarely was, Rog had to chase him down, first in their private rooms, then out into the main part of the mansion. Even now however, he could tell of the great care of his spouse, as even their playful chase came nowhere near the children, or grew loud enough that they could hear. All three had died more or less against the enemy, though thankfully only their second had encountered orcs in person. Still, better not to risk any of them getting some kinds of flashbacks.

Chapter Text

They rode up to New Gondolin, little Niphredil tucked in Egalmoth's cloak. It was actually quite warm, certainly warmer than it had been in Old Gondolin, but she was young and small and prone to suffer from any lingering cold.

Rog was right beside him, their escort surrounding them. The road between their city in northern Lindon and the city on the shores of Lake Evendim was usually quite safe, on account of the large amount of travel, but it was better not to risk anything. Especially now that there were children involved.

The little girl was burrowed against him, but he suspected it was mostly because she was comfortable, not because she was cold.

"Should we push, or not?" They could see the city in the distance, but the sun had already set and it would still take them an hour or two to actually reach it.

"What say you?" They could easily push, but this was the first time their daughter had such a long journey. Egalmoth gently patted her head when she grumbled softly. "'Let me sleep.' Clearly. I suppose we can just push, so we can put her in a real bed."

"A valid thought at this time. It is very late." Her other father chuckled, not reacting to the last statement. Never mind putting her to bed, at least now they could go to bed.

Egalmoth adjusted her, smiling gently at the little fist clinging to his tunic. "Though perhaps send someone ahead to make sure there's rooms prepared." He gestured to the head of their escort, who send one of the others ahead. At first, the guard was at a mere canter, to break into a gallop a distance ahead. Most of their people had gotten used to what they could and could not do around the young Lady.

'I can take her, you know.' Rog mentally pointed out, offering his husband a faint pout.

'You're just jealous she likes me better.' Very maturely, the other answered with the faintest tip of his tongue sticking out. 'On the way back, how does that sound? I think transferring her now would wake her.'

'Fine...' He had looked away, but he could feel the eye-roll.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next morning the already present Gondolindhrim were greeted with the last two of their number, and the current youngest heiress.

"Hail and well-met." Half-tucked against Egalmoth, the little girl curtsied very prettily.

About four of the Lords of Old and New Gondolin heard a spouse in their minds; she's so cute, I want one.

"My name is Niphredil, daughter of Ulmoica of Barad Eithel, Fosterling of Egalmoth of the Heavenly Arch." Her piece said, she promptly retreated back to her fathers, disappearing between them.

Chapter Text

"Cousin." Fingon rode up to the Lord's mansion, where his kin was waiting.

"Welcome, My Lord...?" Egalmoth was awaiting him at the front-gates.

"No, this is family-business." Maedhros was behind him, thick fur-coat protecting him from the freezing winter-winds coming in from the sea.

"Very well, cousins it is." They did share an aunt, after all. "What brings you here during this time of year?" Very few elves came to the most northern settlement in the middle of winter.

"Some assistance that is needed." Fingon hopped from his horse, handing it off to the waiting stable-hand. His husband sank down behind him, thick cloak firmly closed.

"Well then." Their host invited them inside, sending a boy to prepare rooms. "Let us see if I can assist you then." He lead the way to the private sitting-room - at least, if the duration of their walk was any indication - where they met up with his husband and two daughters. Rog looked up from the book he had been reading. "Take a seat."

"Hi!" The youngest of the two daughter chirped in greeting, balled up in what seemed several blankets.

"Well, hello there, My Lady." Fingon briefly bowed in her direction, before turning to his husband to help him with the cloak.

"Oh..." Tucked against Maedhros was the reason they had come here at this time of the year. "Cousin, that...?"

"Not a Mandos-foster." The redhead softly stated before their shared cousin could finish the question. "But..."

"I see." Egalmoth tilted his head. "Niphredil, could you get some snacks from the kitchen?"

"Sure." The teenager slipped from her own cocoon of blankets, which her sister promptly carried over with nary a complaint she had to leave her own. From what he'd heard from Turgon, the girl had died in a similar event as this boy probably had just barely survived.

"Tuck yourselves in." Rog spoke up as the black-haired lord turned to the tea-making equipment at the open hearth. "Has he woken at any point."

"He was awake when we found him and I do think he knows what happened." The High King of the Noldor in Middle Earth obediently settled on the couch with his husband and the child, letting the small girl tuck them together. "I am not sure...?"

"He woke once or twice on the way here too." His husband stated, moving to nestle the small form between them. "Didn't say anything, but I felt him move."

"Good." Egalmoth appeared beside them, with some steaming teacups. "When was that? That you found him?"

Normally, he should probably object to talk like this being had in front of a child who looked even younger than the one they had picked up, but well... she had already lived it. "A little less than two days?" He accepted the tea. "We were actually a bit closer to Turgon, but figured you'd be a better choice to help him."

"His kin?" The white-haired Lord of the city asked softly, but whatever he saw in their eyes in answer was enough for him to nod lightly. "The Maia of Mandos come regularly to check on the girls. We can ask them to pass a message, tell the family he's safe."

"That's probably good, yes." He hesitated briefly, before patting the small head against his husband's chest. Tiny fists were clinging to the riding-leathers of the Son of Fëanor. Niphredil slipped inside, followed by a maid with a cart of food, who promptly left after the delivery.

"Bless." Maedhros' hand was stuck making sure the youngster didn't slide to the ground, so Fingon held out the sandwich for him.

"Perhaps Turgon will now stop joking about us finding random kids... at least ours were delivered." Egalmoth chuckled, taking a seat on the other couch with his two daughters. "You actually just find them in random places."

"I.. wait... now just a..."

"Pry him loose, and I'll take it back." Their host snorted, gesturing to the tiny fists holding on for dear life.

'Maglor's going to be such a little shit...' Maedhros reached along their bond, dry exasperation dripping from his thoughts.

'Worse than Aredhel!?'

'...' A small number of curses passed between them, but neither made a move to detach the boy from themselves.

"That's what he thought." Rog laughed softly, making another round with the teapot before joining his husband in their blanketpile.

Chapter Text

They were half-tempted to call the boy Ereinion, since the ordeal had temporarily - they hoped - rendered him mute so they could not ask him his name, but decided against it. In the end, they picked the temporary epessë of Eression - lonely son - until he either regained his speech, or the Maia of Mandos could inform them of his name when they came by.

Until such time, however, he'd have to make due with it... and the rest of the fortress better not confuse him with 'Erestor' who had been Caranthir's Major-domo and had lingered in the East because he fell in love with Turgon's golden retriever of a Lord. The confusion was not helped by Eression taking a liking to the dark steward of Maedhros, lingering around the ellon while he was around like a little shadow.

In fact, aside from his muteness, the child bounced back quickly, literally and figuratively. Dressed in Fëanorian red, their fosterling brought in the one hair-color not represented in that family; brown, in a shade similar to fresh oak.

Maedhros thanked every Valar that his brothers - barring Maglor - were not around, because he did not trust some them with the boy. Celeg would have had him halfway into the wilds by the second day, and his fosterling would gladly follow.

"Is this more or less worse than raising your brothers?" Fingon leaned over, watching the closest thing he had to an actual child listening intently while Maglor showed him how to put Power in humming, the most he could manage. There were already cracks in the tile both of them were staring at.

"Worse, at least I could leverage those against one another." Maedhros was reading a book, one eye on his brother. Fingon supposed that it could be worse; Celegorm would have needed like 6 eyes worth of surveillance if you didn't want your child to suddenly climb walls. "I suppose also less since there's only Maglor to cause trouble."

He grinned widely when his brother looked over with a flat and considering glare, having heard them. The Noldorin High-King of Middle Earth waved lightly, his own book forgotten on his lap. He'd been reading together with his son, practicing his letters, when his law-brother had arrived and thieved said son.

Still, he knew that he was the boy's ultimate favorite, for which he'd gladly hand him over once a while. It was them that Eression regularly turned to for comfort, still spending more nights than not in their bed.

He relaxed back into his seat, considering the book himself. His husband quirked an eyebrow, asking without words whether he'd start reading on his own. He would not, putting aside the story about a little squirrel that had gone on a quest to find the biggest acorn it could find, and rose from his seat.

"You do realize I still need that flagstone, right?" He leaned over the two Singers, poking the crack with his boot-tip.

"Eh, you have a couple hundred more." Maglor grinned widely, and Eression snorted into his sleeve. "I am sure you have some in a dark corner that you can exchange with this one."

"Why do I let you into my palace again?" The only one currently with a circlet muttered darkly.

"He'll break in otherwise, via breaking all the windows with his caterwauling." Maedhros answered him in their stead, eyes firmly on the book in his lap. He did flinch some at the high-pitched teakettle-impression of his brother though, looking up with a flat glare. "See? I bet there went three of those."

"Why you!" 

"I am so sorry about this family." Fingon informed his son in an aside while the second son of Fëanor rose to confront his elder.

Eression just beamed up at him in answer.