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When he finally reunites with Elwing and finds out their sons were left in their burning city by her -- for the fucking cursed jewel -- he has no words. Left to die brutally at the vicious hands of the evil Feanoreans, just like her brothers had died except probably worse, he can only assume. She interprets his disbelief at her actions as grief and sadness and weeps all over him. He keeps his horror to himself.

That was totally unnecessary. A city's worth of people, and his own little babies, dead. For nothing. [Yes he has the silmaril on his ship, but what does that matter in his heart -- how can you measure a piece of stone against two little innocent angels, now gruesomely murdered, corpses left to rot. How can he measure saving middle earth against his two little sweethearts that like their pudding, dead.]

His little boys are gone. He'll never teach them to sail, see them grow up. He keeps trying not to think about it, afraid he'll break down so intensely that he won't be able to stop.

He has nothing left to lose now.

Eventually they learn from elves coming over to Valinor that their sons are actually alive -- taken alive and kept alive by the kinslayers; they are both shocked. Elwing shuts herself in a spare room in the tower that she was given as a type of house and he cannot bring himself to intrude. On her grief or on her anything. Or on her at all.

Thankfully the valar told him he could sail his ship for part of the year, which soothes his pain at not being able to sail back across the real sea ... to where he now knows his sons actually live. He is grateful for his strange sky sailing, especially because he hears things when he's out there alone. Things he tells no one.

It's probably just fevered dreams invading his waking mind, due to sailing alone all the time. He spends all his time alone, by choice. He doesn't want to see random elves, or his relatives, or his parents or his wife.

He likes the whispers he hears when he sails, though. He imagines his sons praying to him, and others too. Mostly only one other, saying strange things. His sons say what he imagines they would say; this other one, some other elf, asks for forgiveness from him, and mentions his sons often.

But he sounds like a Feanorean from his own account, so it is strange to hear. What odd things he imagines, he thinks, but it makes sense, kind of.

His sons are angry at him, of course. He understands. But they also ask him for strength, or wisdom, or endurance. He wishes he could give them anything at all, much less things like that.

He hears one son more than the other. At least he imagines anything at all. It is a great comfort to him. He can see the difference between his wife's hysterical grief, self-hatred, paranoia and his own state of calm. He knows as soon as he returns to his beloved ship that he will hear his hallucinations.

It's crazy, yes, but it sure is comforting.

The other voice drops out after a while; and the strange other Feanorean one as well. Then it's just one son.

He thinks it's Elrond, based on how he mentions Elros being dead and having chosen to be mortal, which makes him unaccountably sad and also envious. He only chose this endless life for his wife. She doesn't seem to care for him anymore, though.

He's at peace with it. He doesn't mind, after the chaos and horror of their lives. He's grateful that he's alive, and gets to sail, and can hear the strange whispers that he does. He spends little time with Elwing or in Aman, choosing instead to sail and listen as much as possible.

Eventually he hears, through normal elves talking in real life on the harbor, their gossip, that the high king Gil-Galad [from middle earth] has been reborn in Valinor.

And then later on to his surprise he gets a letter from him [nobody sends him letters, and he barely even talks to his parents] -- he's requested to meet with Earendil. Thankfully he asks just him and not Elwing too, as she is still not well.

He comes to his ship at the harbor and is waiting while Earendil docks one day. They bow to each other, and he's surprised to see how polite Gil-Galad is to him.

Eventually he realizes why, it's because he's practically Elrond's spouse.

He spends the whole time telling Earendil of Elrond and his brother's lives, then finally he leaves.

Earendil sits down on the deck in shock. What he heard was real, he knows now. All of it. The other voice must have been that son of Feanor who stole the children. But loved them, too. And he stopped hearing Elros because he really did die. Dead forever, a son he barely knew at all. That he didn't know.

Also, distantly, he's shocked at the reality that the high king clearly is still in love with his son. He openly admitted they were together to him, but explained Elrond preferred it stay quiet.

And then he causally mentioned that he was building a new city for Elrond that would be the exact same as the one he founded in middle earth [apparently the locale mattered due to it needing waterfalls?]. All so that Elrond would be pleased when he crossed the sea.

It fills Earendil with shame to think this elf has thought of Elrond more and done more for him than he's ever done. So the same for that son of Feanor.

In secret he goes to see Feanor's wife one night. She's confused when she opens the door [she sent all her servants away long ago in the distant past] but lets him in. "I have news of your son's kindness," he tells her, and she stops looking dour and goggles at him.

Truly, it is a sentence none in Aman would think was rational, not even her. All know of her family's evil and violence.

"Who are you?" she asks him.

He explains who he is, and then continues. "One of them adopted my sons instead of slaying them when they took the havens," Earendil tells her. "He loved my sons, and treated them ... much better than I," he finishes, ashamed. "Much better. I would not be surprised if my son comes over the sea and says you are his grandmother, not Nimloth or Idril -- that you are his only relation here in Aman. And that he has no other family here."

He looks up, unable to hide his sorrow, and shame. She still looks full in disbelief. He feels the same way, but not, too, because he's heard those whispers for all this time. Now he realizes he heard the truth.

"Your son loved my sons well, and I think my sole son that lives still is looking for him. The singing one. He wants to heal him, as he is ill and lost, it is thought."

Nerdanel blinks.

He finally falls silent. They sit there like that for a little while. Eventually she says, "Really?"

"Yes," he says.

Later he leaves and goes back to his boat. She's still in shock, but he has to get back under the cover of nightfall.

He is eager to keep sailing, so he does. His star is only supposed to be in the sky at certain times, so he keeps the silmaril in a chest on his ship when it's not officially needed. This way he can sail and see if he hears more at any time, any season.

He keeps listening. Eventually, Elrond finds this son of Feanor in the wilderness, but he is very sick, almost dead. He immediately decides he must tell Nerdanel right away, but then realizes he should figure out if Elrond can keep him from dying first.

After a while Elrond says to his friend [the famous Glorfindel, from his own Gondolin, not that he knows him well, only having seen him as a very young boy; he's been sent back by the valar which seems rude vis a vis Earendil not getting to see Elrond] that Maglor is 'stabilized' and that sort of thing. All healer terms he doesn't know so much about, but even he gets the gist of a few. If Elrond starts praying to him and then pauses, Earendil hears everything. It's like the 'prayer' part is still active, somehow.

He sails back to Aman in the sky and goes to tell Nerdanel the news. "Elrond found him, and he is working on fixing his injuries."

"He's healing him?" she says, in shock all over again.

"Yes, Elrond loves him very much," Earendil tells her. Well ... at this point it's more like Maglor's son loves Maglor. Let's be honest, he thinks. "He is his real father, let's be honest," he tells Nerdanel.

She just looks at him, still in shock.

He's had a long time to get over his jealousy, envy and all that. Hearing Elrond's thoughts or prayers or words to him -- something like that -- has helped in that regard.

He sneaks back to his wife's tower and finds her shut in her room like usual. So he goes back to his ship after buying some simple hard tack style provisions in a town near the harbor.

Of course, one day he hears Elrond's words saying that he knows he's listening. Earendil pauses in shock.

"If you hear me, and can, throw down the stone in a chest so its light is not seen -- I shall say I 'claim' it for it's owners, and the whole thing will be over, I think," Elrond says. Earendil cannot see him, but he can hear him. "I will throw it back up to you afterwards."

This is a season when he's got the jewel in the chest, so he throws it down without even thinking. It's only after he does it that he panics at how crazy that was.

But he hears Elrond say, "Perfect," excitedly. And then, "I claim this for them, the sons of Feanor, for I am an adopted son of Makalaure. Now all three jewels have been claimed for the sons of Feanor. It is over."

Then a few seconds later suddenly Earendil sees his little chest dropping back on the deck beside him. How Elrond threw it back he doesn't know. ... He should have thought of that earlier, oh boy.

"Thank you ... lord Earendil," Elrond says, more shy than usual.

He does not say 'father' now like he used to, knowing someone can hear him. He halts when he speaks often, clearly editing what he's saying.

For the first time Earendil realizes he should drop letters down to him. So he does, except that first he has to figure out what to write. Elrond's verbal words that he hears become more hesitant and shy now that he knows someone is listening. Before he told him everything with no restraint at all.

Finally Earendil decides to say:
My dear Elrond, I do not know what to write. Except to write that I am sorry. I hope we can meet in the west someday. I can hear you sometimes, I like to hear you talk. I am happy you were loved by that enemy elf that rescued you.
Sincerely,
Earendil

He decides how to sign it after agonizing over it for a while. What would he say -- 'love, your father'? Elrond would laugh out loud at the cheek of it.

He tosses it down tied to a little spoon, so the paper won't float in the air, and after Elrond goes and finds it, he supposes, he hears him again. He can't believe that even worked.

"I don't know what to say either," Elrond admits to him. "I found your letter. But I will go west, so we will meet. I have had a good life, considering everything, really. Except for Elros and the high king dying, and having to leave the ones that took me."

More like saved him. At least you have one back, Earendil thinks, and is happy for both of them. He's going to need to buy more silverware to weigh down his letters, he thinks.

When they meet in Valinor, after the requisite 'first introductory letters', Elwing comes with him. It's awkward, of course. Elrond is very polite to both of them. [Neither mention their secret communications or what they did with the stone.] Elrond looks more like Luthien than like either/or also like any of his relatives, really. He honestly looks more like Maglor than like Earendil himself, he notes mournfully to himself.

Elrond looks searchingly at Earendil, and is pleased with him, it seems. One time he smiles at him; it's exciting.

Elrond seems to grasp at a glance that Elwing is unwell. Earendil suggests he show him his ship, and he agrees. There they can talk privately. They walk the deck and Elrond tells him he thinks she needs to go to Lorien for healing. "I am a healer," he explains. "This is my professional opinion."

Earendil nods. "I have mentioned it before, and she was not happy. Can I ask you, how is ... your friend?"

He looks at him. "The one who was good to me?" Elrond confirms.

He nods.

Elrond nods back. "He is doing alright. He is very weak, sickly. He suffers very much still; and being here makes it much worse for him."

"Could I meet him?" he asks. Elrond looks shocked. "I feel I owe him my thanks," Earendil explains. "And also I'd like to have a friend. If he would like to, too."

He looks even more shocked. But it's true. Earendil loves sailing, it's his passion. He has never had time for people or socializing. He can make an exception for this paragon that emerged out of a morass of pure evil to save his children from a war despite being on the other side of it.

And not just save them, love them. Cherish them, teach them.

And Elrond has told him how Maglor has to still be hidden away, to keep him safe from the victims and haters of the kinslayers. Despite his repentance, later good deeds and suffering beyond the bounds of life, he doesn't know if elves would line up to hurt him. Elrond has said he can't take the chance.

"You'd have to ask him," Elrond says. "So you really heard me, all those times?"

"Yes, but at first I didn't understand," he explains eagerly. "And sometimes I was not sailing. It took a long time for me to know what I was hearing."

Of course also he'd never heard his children speak as adults, so he didn't know their voices, or recognize them. Seeing Elrond now is fascinating, because he's never seen him grown up.

"I'm sorry we didn't go to the shore when you arrived," he continues, "but I didn't want to get in the way. Especially since your king was coming to see you too."

And he had Maglor with him, as well, he thinks, but does not say. "And I didn't want to meet you ... in front of everyone, and make it be something they could all watch. I wanted it to be private, for both of us."

Elrond looks at him for a moment. "I find that very wise," he says, and Earendil feels like he can relax.

It's pretty nerve-wracking to be next to Elrond in real life. Before, he just heard him speak, or sent him letters. It was distant by nature, in a sense. And after Elrond realized he could hear him, he was very formal and dispassionate in his prayers to him.

But now he's right here. Here. Beside him.

"Gil-Galad came to see me," he tells his son.

Elrond blinks and turns to him. "Really, why? Politics? Or about sailing?"

"No," Earendil explains, "I think he was just introducing himself because he knows you. He told me about you, things like that."

"Hmm," his son murmurs, and Earendil wonders if he's just gotten the high king in hot water. Well, fine if so. Elrond deserved to know. Of anyone, Earendil has to be loyal to Elrond first, others second. He deserves that much. Look at his life.

Sometimes Earendil has stayed on his boat so much just due to feeling shame.

"He likes sailing," Elrond tells him. Elrond doesn't mention if he himself likes it ... which is enough of a statement on that front, he thinks. Does he like music like his 'real' father? Earendil feels like he can't ask. He wishes they could share something.

Earendil gets to meet Maglor in new Rivendell, which is nice because it turns out he's not some cruel child-stealing monster that flaunts his status over him. He's actually kind. He doesn't say anything about Elrond, or Earendil's life, or the stone.

He looks very sick, almost dead-like. It's hard not to feel sorry for him, just looking at him. Elrond tells him in advance he's put a glamor on him to make him look better.

He can tell Maglor is gentle, kind, because his aura just seems like that.

Maglor answers his questions and is polite. Elrond stays in the room, and he almost wants to ask why. To protect Maglor from him?

Shockingly Maglor asks if he wants him to apologize, and he says no, of course. How terrible to even hear. Do they think he is that stupid and/or insane?

Everyone knows it's Maglor that's redeemed now, in several ways, the Valar had announced it. He suffered worse than death and lived during it, with no release; he resisted the ring; he helped Elrond; and most importantly, he helped heal the ringbearer. Also, he was truly sorry for his crimes, and his insanity, illness and starvation had tormented him far beyond the actual enormity of the crimes themselves.

He admits to Maglor that he'd like to be friends, and Maglor looks like he can't understand his sentence, like he's speaking the language of some distant land.

And Elrond again looks concerned and shocked and confused, making Earendil feel like maybe it was a mistake to be honest.

Maglor will only speak to say the fake party line that all the anti-Feanor people had before -- to pretend Earendil is a perfect, one dimensional hero. To pretend his failures aren't real.

'Feanoreans bad; everyone else good.'

The two people sitting in front of him, and their bond and lives, are a literal real life example of one of his biggest failures, and how the 'party line' is a joke.

Elrond tries to be nice to him, but none of it's real. It's frustrating, to be the only person saying the truth in this conversation.

But he says they can all be friends. That's nice, at least.

He gets agreement in the future that he can write to Maglor [vis a vis Elrond obviously], and he does. Maglor obligingly writes to him all the time. It's so nice to get letters. It's exciting.

Maglor's life is very interesting -- as is Elrond's. They both describe their lives, what's going on, who's doing what, what the latest issue or annoyance or fun thing is, and he imagines what it's all like.

It's fun to read Elrond's long discussions of herbs and potions and healer techniques and patients and things, though he understands nothing of it. And it's also fun to read Maglor's long letters that answer his random questions and also then talk about songs -- Earendil makes sure to always ask lots of music questions.

One time he sent him a letter that was the longest letter Earendil had ever seen. And it was all about music.

This is probably priceless to the music appreciators, Earendil thinks. To him, it's hard to understand. He barely can grasp any of it. Clearly Maglor is a genius in this realm. When then he plays him a song in the future, that makes it obvious that he is. [Though this huge packet is a clue.]

Elrond tells him strange mundane things in his letters. He lists things he saw, or thought were funny, or got annoyed by. He mentions a flower he thought was pretty, or a book he looked at. He complains always of whatever work he must do -- never healing though, he acts like that's not work. He never whines about that.

He does whinge about having to meet dignitaries, kings, famous people, things like that. He does not like going to parties, or courts, or anything formal.

So it all goes well right up until he finds out that Elwing has taken the silmaril from his chest in her tower -- since he was not on his ship for the moment and he stores it there sometimes -- or absconded with it, whatever, from a messenger from the high king [Gil-Galad, not the other ones here in Aman; this is from Elrond's king].

He rushes to new Rivendell, as he's learned it's called, only to find his wife crying on the floor in a room [holding a little purse] with Gil-Galad, who is sitting a chair looking very beleagured. He doesn't even know what to say, he's so surprised.

Gil-Galad gestures for him to take a seat. "She won't get up," he explains over her weeping. "Apparently she came here and snuck in past the guards as a bird, I assume, to get to -- him."

His blood runs cold. That can only mean Maglor; otherwise he'd say the name of the elf in question.

"She showed him the ... stone, and he ran away from her and threw himself off the balcony into the river from high up. This is from her own account of what happened," Gil-Galad continues, grimly. Even now most elves try to avoid saying certain words out loud. Maglor, more than anyone, appreciates it, Elrond has told him. "Crews are searching it now. ... Everyone is. Soon we will be forced to dredge it."

To find the body, he thinks numbly. Oh no. No no no no.

And wait, everyone? He gave him a significant look then; he must mean Elrond is doing that too.

Maglor had been redeemed and everything; even the Valar had announced it to all in Aman. The only son of Feanor who turned and came back to the light after his evil deeds. The only one to want redemption, to become good once more.

Why has she done this? What gain was she trying for?

Elrond will be so upset, he thinks. Who hasn't abandoned him or died on him at this point. ... Not many.

And he'll never speak to Elwing again, that's for certain. He didn't seem keen on her to begin with; this craziness [and hopefully not murder] will not endear her to him.

"I would like you to take her from this place; obviously she cannot come here again," the high king tells him quietly. "Our people know some violence has happened and I am loath to keep this a secret, yet it seems I have no choice in any direction. It will calm the populace if I declare our borders closed for a time."

He nods. He picks up Elwing, who obligingly turns into a bird to make it easier for him, and carries her out of his son's city. For truly it is his, and not the high king's, he knows. All know that, it's common knowledge. If even Earendil knows something about elvish society in Aman, that means it's known by all, since he pays no attention to it usually.

He takes Elwing back to her tower with her in his pocket by her choice, and him on his horse, and once they're there he doesn't know what to say. Finally he says, "You took the jewel from my chest?"

She nods.

"Please put it back," Earendil requests. She shakily gets up and does. Step one done, he thinks.

"What are you going to say to Elrond," he asks her.

She stares at him like this is the first time the thought has occurred to her, and he realizes all at once that she is truly ill to the point of needing immediate intervention. He's had the luxury of going off and doing his passion, and listening to his family and others, but she's just gotten worse and worse. They'd been married too young, he sees that now. Both of them had been too young.

"I think you should go see a healer in Lorien," he says. And stay there, he thinks. He has heard from many how famous his son is for wisdom and healing; and many who came over the sea told him personally that his son had saved them. "I am going to sleep."

As peredhel, they need to sleep. He wonders if Elrond does too; he cannot remember. Regardless, what a baby needs is not what an adult needs anyway. He goes to his ship and sleeps onboard. He spends some time there, just doing nothing.

But then hours later when he wakes up, things are different.

Elrond appears as if by magic up in his room on the ship -- he is there when he wakes up. "We found him, alive," Elrond says when Earendil wakes, sitting near his bed, and he closes his eyes in relief.

Thank goodness. He can't imagine what would happen if he'd died. Elrond would have probably been unreasonable and hysterical. Which he understands.

"I can't stay long," Elrond adds. He looks low indeed and very, very dirty, like he's rolled in water and mud; he was out looking for Maglor's body, he thinks. How terrible, to look for the dead body of his foster father because of his actual mother. And in Valinor, after the great wars have ended, where there should be peace now.

Earendil nods.

"I think you should take your wife to Lorien; I have spoken to her mother who agrees with me. We cannot have someone provoking kinslaying in Aman, and starting that again," Elrond tells him.

He almost gasps at his last words. "Yes," Elrond says in response. "If you hadn't ... listened ... before, that's what could have occurred. Regardless, there can be no endless cycle of killings here. I don't care who did what to who. It has to stop."

By 'listened' he means how he and Elrond broke the silmaril frenzy oath thing back when he was across the sea. He nods again. "I need to go back and help him recover," Elrond adds. "If I think of you here, and speak, will you hear me?"

"Yes, it should be like before," Earendil says.

Like this, a voice whispers to him. Except it's in his mind, somehow. None typical elf-mind oswane, something else.

Oh that's Elrond, he realizes. He knows that voice.

"I can, I heard that, just now," he says, cheered, and his son nods, and rises to leave.

Then this is not goodbye, Elrond says in his mind, glancing at him. He smiles. "It's not," he agrees.

Elrond nods, and leaves, still talking to him as he goes back in his mind. Unfortunately Earendil can't do the same thing back to him from far away, so he writes letters and goes to see him in person instead. It's only much later that he realizes he could do it, he'd just have to 'pray' to him.

Finally he gets to meet Maglor again, which is kind of him to acquiesce to after how Elwing tried to stir things up all these thousands of years [and his pardon and everything] later. Yet he understands her pain, too. He still feels it. Elrond tells him he isn't putting a glamor on him this time, he'll see his real self.

He almost gasps when he sees him, he looks horrendous. And this is after Elrond healed him?!

Maglor is so thin it looks creepy to see, and he has almost no glow. He should glow even more than regular elves of the first age who saw the trees, due to being a son of Feanor, but instead he doesn't have almost any light in him at all. Even Earendil who's younger and half-human glows more.

He tries to talk to him casually but Maglor is very wary of him. He watches him constantly. He is very polite to Earendil but still seems to think he's going to stab him at any moment. That's not what's going on here, but he can't seem to get Maglor to realize it. He thanks him for what he did, but that only makes him look uncomfortable.

So he changes tack and asks him if he could hear him sing. Maglor looks shocked but agrees. He gets a harp from a table nearby and asks him what he wants to hear. "Anything. A nice song, happy," Earendil says.

While he is here for his son of course, he doesn't want to miss the opportunity to hear the greatest singer and harpist to ever live. Earendil has no passion for music but even he isn't stupid enough to pass up this lucky chance. Maglor lives hidden here, so he's not performing for anyone in Aman; it's almost impossible to hear him play.

Maglor starts, and it's like being drunk in a good way, to hear the music. It's so so so good, it pours through his soul, it feels like. And then later Earendil suddenly wakes up. Huh?

He looks up, but Elrond is there instead; Maglor isn't anymore. "Wha?" he asks him.

"He told me you asked for a song, but you fell asleep during it; it is common," Elrond explains, looking up from his book.

"It was ... so good, magical," he tells his son, struggling to find the words, who nods in understanding.

"Yes, that's part of his talent, the power of it," Elrond explains.

"What did Elros think about me?" he asks him out of the blue. Elrond blinks.

"Well, our lives were difficult," Elrond says delicately, prevaricating.

"Did he hate me in the end?" Earendil asks and Elrond hesitates. So he did, then.

"We did not know you," Elrond says, defending his brother. "You and your wife were myths to all elves. My, well, 'friend' told us at first of course you two would come for us, or your people, your allies, would. That you were heroes. But no one ever came. Eventually we got older, and realized that even they had been surprised no one came. Elros was ... sensitive about it all. He didn't like not being their real son -- and then in court with the high king he didn't like how people fussed over us like we'd been slaves. I bonded early on with my 'friend', but Elros did not get so close to either of them in the same way."

"There was another?" he asks quietly. He didn't commit his early hearings to memory, thinking they were mere workings of his imagination.

"Yes, he's recovering from being tortured by Morgoth in the halls still," Elrond explains. "He was extremely ill before he killed himself. Not even I could heal him -- then or with my current power, either."

Earendil blinks. How horrific.

"I'm sorry," he says. Everyone Elrond has known has abandoned him or died gruesomely or had something terrible happen.

Elrond shrugs. "He is at peace now. It is a relief to know he no longer suffers. Even despite his great pain, he tried to be kind to us. "

"Are you pleased with your waterfall city?" Earendil asks him to change the subject. Also because he wants to know.

He pauses and smiles at the way he names it. "Yes. The high king built it for us, those who had not yet come over the sea from where I live. It's a copy of our settlement."

Earendil already knows that. He also knows that no one says that -- everyone says Gil-Galad built it for Elrond personally because they are secretly spouses. The funny part is that when he's overheard this type of talk, many say they too would jump at the chance to be with Elrond, as he is very close to the beauty of Luthien.

And then there's the whole 'most famous healer of all time' and the 'extremely wise' part, which only heightens people's interest, it seems.

In a way he can see what they mean, having now seen Elrond as an adult, he looks very elegant in a way that Earendil does not. Elrond doesn't act like he wants attention. He wears loose, long clothes all the time and puts his hair back often, tying it up. He is very sober, almost grim, mostly, and doesn't ever smile. Of course maybe this is just when he's with him, Earendil thinks sadly.

Maybe he's more joyful with his people and his Gil-Galad. Elrond shows him his own memories of Elros sometimes, using his great power at osanwe. Apparently he's been seeing Melian here in Valinor so he's even better than usual at it, he tells him. It makes him weep to see his little Elros. He's dead now, dust and rot; and under the sea besides. How horrible.

Along the way he happens to see the Feanoreans.

Maglor so obviously loves them that even he can tell from the few moments he catches of him in Elrond's memories. And yet he feels he cannot directly ask Elrond to show him more of his childhood, as it is a mockery to request it.

The father who abandoned him asking to spy on his 'kidnapper' father and himself as a little boy? The gall of it.

And it's more like 'real' father, not kidnapper father.

Elrond sends him letters sometimes, updating him on things he's working on in his waterfall land. He is very interested in plants, because some have healing properties. He sends the letters to the dock, so if Earendil is sailing he reads them all at once when he gets back. It's nice because he could just 'pray' to him, which he still does often, but also sends him letters too.

Actually, since most elves left when Elrond did, the Valar told him he did not need to keep sailing, but that he could if he wanted to.

Sometimes he does just because he has nothing else to do. ... At all.

He has no one. He does not want to go see his parents very much. And he doesn't really have a friend. Once in a while he goes to see Maglor or writes to him. He of course allows Elrond to go see him on his ship, which he now lives solely on.

He also takes Elrond out literally sailing, in the actual ocean, and when his son asks if he can bring Gil-Galad too he agrees. He goes out with them all the time after that, as it seems as if Gil-Galad has some great love of being on the water.

Elrond clearly doesn't love it as much. Sometimes he brings books and literally reads, laying on the deck while Gil-Galad actually eagerly does the work of sailing with Earendil.

Would Elros like it, he thinks, and turns away sometimes. Would Maglor or Elrond tell him if he asked?

Maglor sends Earendil letters too. Mostly they just answer his questions, and don't say anything else. Thankfully, Earendil has an imagination, and comes up with lots of queries. Also, he remembers some of what he heard when he was out sailing in the sky, so he asks about stuff he knows by way of that. He tells him in person that he did hear him when he prayed to him mentally.

Maglor too is horrified, just like Elrond was. Earendil knows it's not personal, but it hurts his feelings.

He tells him he can still talk to him that way now, if he wants. Maglor does not. He seems beyond appalled that he heard him, and explains that he wouldn't have spoken as he did if he'd known.

Yeah, I know, he thinks. No one wants to speak to me if they know I'm listening.

But Maglor goes on and explains he would have been more apologetic and respectful. He assures him he prefers it the other way, the honest way.

In his letters he asks Maglor about:
-how he's doing
-his music
-is he working on any new songs
-how is the weather in Elrond's city
-how is the food
-is Elrond doing okay

When he comes by he asks Maglor to play him songs, and he acquiesces. He actually also asks about songs he's still working on, and so Maglor will play him different parts of unfinished pieces.

He likes to hear it. It's like nothing else, to hear him play. He really is the best of all time, Earendil has no doubt. Finrod he's heard as well, and he's like a blade of grass compared to the sun that is Maglor.

At first Earendil'd been very afraid that Elrond would be cruel to him, or refuse to see him. Yes they interacted before, and he did keep 'praying' to him in middle earth, he knows. It's just hard not to be full of fear.

Seeing him face to face is difficult. It was quite scary to meet him and Maglor.

Back then he'd thought, who knows what this Maglor would or could say. He could've easily distained Elrond's true parents to their face and say he was his real father -- in every way that counts. He's been there for him, saved Elrond after he was abandoned during a war against Maglor himself, and then later Elrond wanted him back again, and fixed him.

He's seen Elrond as a tiny boy and as a teenager and as a young adult. And as a real adult. He taught him, fed him, loved him. And it's obvious that Elrond loved and still loves him back.

Earendil is not needed at all, really. No one needs or wants him. Elrond clearly considers Maglor highly indeed, to bring him to Aman and also get a pardon for him that's publicly announced.

Sometimes Maglor doesn't write, and he finds out from Elrond's letters that Maglor is not feeling well. He's ill a lot: his hand hurts, or he's too cold, or he doesn't want to eat, or he's upset. To be honest it's kind of hard to view him as this criminal mastermind who stole his children, even though he technically did; he's not very scary.

But Earendil understands that he was one among many, and could make no difference except in the way he did -- by sparing and adopting his little boys.

He likes when Elrond comes out with Gil-Galad to the water. It's fun to imagine for a moment that they're a real family, and Elrond is young, and this is his lover. Of course it's an idle fantasy. Gil-Galad makes for a good son-in-law though. He's very polite and clearly respects Earendil, which is nice of him.

Especially since Elrond has probably told him what a pathetic excuse of a parent he and his wife are.

He and Elwing don't have a real marriage, but then they never really did, did they. She finally tells him she wants to rest in Mandos, and he says goodbye. She wants peace and healing.

It's only later that he realizes they should have thought about Elrond and told him first. Would he have wanted to say goodbye? ... Another mistake, he thinks worriedly. He goes himself to Elrond's city to tell him, and gets a private audience with him. Even Maglor and Glorfindel go off so he can be alone with him.

"Your -- well, Lady Elwing has gone to rest in Mandos," he says in a rush. Elrond blinks, surprised. "She wanted to heal, she said. She left all at once."

He adds the last part in a desperate attempt to sound like they both just didn't forget about Elrond, which is what actually happened.

All Elrond says finally is, "I see."

Earendil drinks his tea as they sit in silence because he's nervous and can't keep his hands calm any other way. Eventually Elrond adds, "You can stay here in Rivendell if you want, if you are concerned about living alone."

"Oh," he says surprised. "Thank you."

What an opportunity. He would have never asked before, as it's a too big an imposition on Elrond.

So he stays there. He gets to see Glorfindel, and Maglor, and Elrond too, all the time. He even gets to see Gil-Galad acting all kingly. They are all solemn. The other elves treat them very respectfully.

He wonders if they ever act fun, lightheartedly or silly. Is it just his presence that's the blight? Or did middle earth make them all so serious?

There are concerts all the time of music he realizes is written by Maglor. He goes and listens to lots of them. Elves offer to give him better seats, and all that, but he demurs. What a joke, for him to claim anything due to being Elrond's father.

It's Maglor that's Elrond's true father.

He notices now with sustained time here that they don't really interact very much while he's there. Maglor doesn't speak almost at all, and Elrond doesn't really talk to him in particular.

But he knows that cannot be true. They must be playacting. A few times as he approaches their rooms he realizes he's right. As he comes in, Glorfindel will stop laughing or he will have already flung himself down on some furniture where he looks amused. That is good, for them all to have fun. He comes by less often, knowing this.

Mainly he walks around Rivendell by himself, just looking at it. He imagines being in the similar city in middle earth. This was his son's design, his desire, this place. It's very beautiful, and the nature is incredible. Rivendell is quite self-sustaining in many ways -- they have incredible cloth makers, shepherds, weavers, farmers, gardeners, healers. They have an enormous library that he sometimes wanders around in.

It's a nice place, this city. It's open and soft and cozy; not opulent and rigid like the old cities of the first elves in Aman. Elrond's people all dress differently [to each other, even, too] compared to each other, unlike the other elvish cities and settlements he seen throughout his life.

Elrond's servants are all young and don't seem to know how to do anything, so Elrond often helps them, as does Glorfindel. It's weird, you'd think after all these millennia all that would be habit by now, but what does he know.

Then he overhears one elf asking another how long they think he'll stay. And he realizes as the seconds pass they mean 'him'. Earendil himself. Because all the servants have had to change their roles due to his presence. It takes him a while of listening but he eventually grasps that it's because the supporters of Maglor are Elrond's actual servants from long ago.

And because Earendil's there they've all been replaced [just for the moment] by young elves who have no idea what they're doing, or what to do in the first place.

Why? he thinks. Do they resent his presence? Refuse to be near him, or do things for him? Or is it polite, to not have him near them? He knows this last vein of thinking is something Maglor has said to him before, that he could leave when Earendil comes by.

But he doesn't want that. He wants things to be normal.

And what's he going to say now, admit to eavesdropping? So he takes his leave of Elrond, and goes back to his ship.

Now they can all go back to normal, he thinks. What a mess. Though it was a bit funny to see them all try to help these elves try to do things they keep confusing, not knowing, and all.

He did at least get to see Elrond do his work with Erestor. And he got to listen to Maglor many times, that was nice. Also, the food was really good in Rivendell. There were always all different options, and servants would bring him trays with many things on them to try. Only the highest people got that, the rest went and got their food themselves. He would have liked to do that, but can't offend them by asking for it.

He'd never tried anything like all the food. It must be a middle earth thing. Strange textures, flavors he's never had, all of it was new. How interesting. He'd love to go eat there every day, but he's just an obstruction. Everyone's happy there as it is, he's just a pox on their lives.

He stays in his boat and eats on the dock like usual.

For the first time ever, really, he feels lonely. It was kind of fun, to talk to people. To see new things, and try new food.

To hear Maglor's new songs, or what he'd just thought up. To listen to Glorfindel's latest funny story, and see his elaborate outfits. To get to talk to Elrond about random mundane things that don't matter. To hear him and Glorfindel bicker, to hear them all argue about which clothes they should wear to what event.

He's just an interloper.

A while later out of the blue the Lady Galadriel comes to visit him, to his shock. He bows and makes to come off his ship, but she asks if she can climb onto it. He agrees. Her servants stay on the dock to wait for her; she comes alone.

She invites him to come and see her city. He hesitates; his story is famous.

He used to be proud of it.

Now he's ashamed to think of how he abandoned his family. And everyone knows Elrond, and what happened. Earendil often keeps his gaze away from that of other elves, aware of what they must think of him. ... Especially in Elrond's own city. Of all places, they must laugh at him there more than anywhere else. They must despise him.

Admittedly they were very nice when he was there, though.

"I would be pleased to show you the trees in my forest," Galadriel tells him, so he agrees to come. She seems like a powerful, magic elf. It would be folly to cause strife with her, he thinks. And also, he knows she taught Elrond much, as per his own words, and that she is great friends with her son. And a noble, powerful ally to have.

So he prepares for a journey to her forest.

He rides there with her and her servants. It's very different from Rivendell, except for the nature being the focus. All the rooms are up in trees. They have to walk up endless stairs. She has dinner with him, and asks him about sailing and the ocean.

Thankfully she skips topics like his life, Elrond's life, the Feanoreans probably hating his guts when he comes to new Rivendell and just in general, her cousin Maglor, and other things. There's no one who hates 
Earendil more than himself.

Galadriel has him try the food of her people and asks him to compare it to Rivendell. "I have only been able to try their food recently," she explains, as he eats. "I have been enjoying it. The diverse types of it. Very unusual."

He nods.

"I liked their variety of beverages," she continues. "They have teas and drinks no other elven area has, and often drink things at strange temperatures. Their use of ice is very interesting, as I have not encountered that before in food or drink. Typically we shun it, of course. For obvious reasons."

"Like the cold cream," Earendil offers, and she agrees.

"Indeed," Galadriel says. "That is something unique, one among many."

He had liked that. Very cold, very firm cream with flowers in it, or spices, or other things. And things on top of it, like nuts or candies. Goodness but does he miss their food. Elrond's chefs are truly superlative.

This Lothlorien food is simply desultory by comparison. Having tried such a wide variety at Elrond's city, it doesn't compare. Before that he would have said it was great.

It's the food that does him in. A lifetime of eating bland, shelf stable food on his ship has made him weak for Elrond's people's food.

He goes back to new Rivendell unwillingly, and Elrond is surprised to see him. But not totally displeased he thinks. He tells him about his interest in the food, and Elrond is pleased.

He personally takes him to the gardens, farms and kitchens and shows him why their food is different. He also explains where the recipes come from, and why they're all so different.

And he shows him the statue of Elros that he has. Elrond waits for him outside the garden that it's in. He weeps to see it; he'll never see Elros except in the memories Elrond shares with him mind to mind.

Then later Elrond tells him he can have them try food together if he likes, all different things. He likes.

It's fun to eat with Glorfindel and Elrond. Maglor doesn't eat with them for some reason, but he doesn't feel like he can ask.

Gil-Galad doesn't either, but that seems to be because he is the high king. Earendil eventually realizes that other, normal elves make obeisance to him but he just greets Earendil like an equal, casually.

This time he asks Elrond if he can stay in a room away from the main area of the city and if Elrond can come see him if he wants, but he won't bother him in his real rooms where his work takes place. Elrond doesn't seem to mind. This way they can keep their servants.

He spends time in the library, trying to find some joy in Elrond's interest. He likes this realm that Elrond loves. He has an enormous private book collection too, he's famous for his love of reading. ... Earendil tries many books, but never quite finds himself enthused about any. Elrond gives him some books on sailing and related topics that he does read, though, as that does seem interesting.

Also, as if he wouldn't read stuff Elrond picked out for him and brought him by his own hand. He owes Elrond big and small in perpetuity.

He tells Elrond to let his friends know they can come and see him if they get bored or need an excuse to get away, and shockingly they do come. Maglor brings his harp, and Glorfindel just chats. Sometimes they come together, actually. Elrond comes and eats with Earendil in his rooms everyday, often with the others, and it's fun to have it be so informal.

They get huge sets of different types of food. It's really nice. Maglor's absence stands out at mealtimes, and he asks Elrond if he will not eat with Earendil for some type of honor-related reason.

Elrond looks surprised. "No, he just -- well. He just usually eats the same thing all the time, and he thought you'd find it odd to see. And then he'd have to explain why."

"All the time?" he asks.

"Well," Elrond says slowly. "He was very hurt a long time ago, and forever after that he struggled to eat. So I had him drink liquids instead, and he got used to it. And so he usually does not eat like a normal elf."

Oh, he thinks. Earendil now grasps what he means.

"You mean when he was sick on the shore and you rescued him," he says and Elrond stops and looks at him, confused. "I heard you all thinking about it sometimes, when you used to 'talk' to me in middle earth," Earendil explains.

Elrond had often prayed to him, telling him what was going on, and asking him to magically give him wisdom, and more power, and more skill. Of course he couldn't, but he wished he could.

"I forget that, sometimes," Elrond tells him. "What do you know, then?"

He tells him a rough version. Elrond looks a bit nauseous at first. He gets it. It's a pretty big invasion of privacy for a kid discarded by his parents.

"I don't remember a lot of it," Earendil tells him, trying to reassure him. "At first I thought I was imagining it."

"Why don't I tell you about everything again," Elrond suggests, and he nods. He tries not to be too eager, but he wants to hear all about Elrond. Boring regular things and the big stuff too. Maglor doesn't tell him things like this, and Gil-Galad only says expected things about him. "I'll go through it all."

Maglor he does not begrudge though, for many reasons. Also because he seems to guard Elrond like the distant guards Earendil has noticed just barely that trail Elrond; they are usually off in the distance.

While at first Elrond's inner circle seem to try to be formal around him, that breaks down pretty quickly. Glorfindel seems to eat off of everyone's plates [well, not Earendil's] all the time.

"I am interested in seeing Lorien for myself," Elrond tells him one day at lunch with just the two of them. "I do not know so much about Aman's healing."

Earendil nods. "I've never been inside." He's only escorted his wife there before.

"I'm wondering if I should go, to be healed," Elrond tells him, to his shock.

He opens his mouth and stops. What's he going to say -- why? ... Everyone knows why. Elrond's life story is literally famous for how grotesque it is. And Earendil is a key, chief architect in that story.

"Would you go with me?" he asks him, and Earendil nods, surprised.

But when they do go, escorted by Glorfindel and Maglor too, weirdly, it's nice there. He gets to even talk to Nienna herself, personally. By the end of the day he knows -- he wants to stay here. It's making him feel good, somehow. He tells Elrond, who understands.

All four of them end up staying. It's rather nice there.

The nightflowers smell so good, and the gardens are so endlessly beautiful. Earendil finds himself weeping, and weeping and weeping. Thankfully he has an excuse to be here, since Elrond said he wanted to learn about their healing methods.

It would gross for him to claim he needed to be healed when Maglor's life is just one open wound [still, even] and Elrond's was only horror.

After the world is remade, Maglor shows him memories of his boys as children. He only shows him Elros once in a while, and through his mind connection Earendil can feel his excruciating pain about him. He can feel Maglor's mind shy away from it, as if he is trying to push away his powerful emotions.

Earendil finds himself hysterically sobbing silently and comes out of a daze to see Maglor unconscious. He runs out and gets help for him, and thankfully there are people right there. At his house at Elrond's, there are often people out planting his garden for him and things like that when Maglor or someone comes over.

It's kind of them. He likes to see the flowers. They do lots of things for him, and treat him respectfully. They don't say anything about what he did, or Elrond, or well, anything like that. Or about him being half-elven. There is a strange solemnity in how they treat him, like he's important.

Well, maybe they feel like his connection with Elrond means something. As little as that might be.

Elrond's people often bring him food, invite him to things, clean his house, give him random things. He finds stuff in his rooms that he's never seen before all the time, and it's always fancy things like beautiful clothes, or supplies, or art.

Elves are kind to him in Elrond's valley, but he shuns most company. A few of them he talks to when he has the energy. He's spent so long alone while sailing that he isn't used to talking to anyone. He often goes off on his own to the shore and gets on his boat. He makes sure to mention it sometimes to Gil-Galad in case he wants to go, since he seems to love sailing so much.

Of course after Cirdan comes, he does this no longer. It's ironic to feel replaced once more, just in a different circumstance, in a tiny way. It's still difficult to feel, and to think of what it reminds him of.

Maglor just seems better than him in every way. He's a real full elf, and one from the strongest, oldest blood. He has seriously dangerous superpowers with his harp, Earendil's been told. Apparently he can kill and destroy buildings with only singing and music, no sword required. The actual weapons are just for show.

And he saved Elrond, loved him, raised him. He comforted him as a little boy, he taught him to read. He was there for him. Instead of being tortured to death, or treated ill as a hostage, Elrond was a beloved son. A child that was cherished.

Maglor bought him everything -- clothes, shoes, presents, books, jewelry, weapons. And more importantly, Earendil eventually finds out by overhearing Elrond's inner circle [who talk openly around him, it seems] casually mention something about Elrond's insane wealth. Maglor had given Elrond so much money and priceless gems when he'd sent him to Gil-Galad's court that Elrond couldn't spend it because it would upset the local economies.

Of course, Elrond nor his brother had needed to use almost any of it, since Gil-Galad had personally given them both large amounts of wealth and goods to befit their standing as princes of Doriath, Sirion and Gondolin. Secretly, Cirdan had too, and so had Galadriel.

Elrond doesn't seem much for worldly things, he's noted. Except for books and gardens.

He always seems to wear old, worn clothes unless some dignitary is there or it's a formal occasion; and Maglor always seems to look like he's going to a funeral in an outfit he's had for centuries. He wonders what Maglor would look like in his 'pre-Finwe-dying' raiment.

Glorfindel dresses so ostentatiously that it makes Maglor and Elrond stand out even more in their plainness. Neither of those two wear jewels, either, mostly. Sometimes Earendil sees little pieces of jewelry in the markets near the shore that he passes by that suit one or the other of them, and he buys them. He keeps them on his boat.

It seems silly and humiliating to think of giving them as actual gifts to either of them. Maglor has access to the highest level of society and also craftsmen, even including those in his own family, and Elrond is probably secretly one of the richest people in Aman -- other than Finwe and his sons.

His eye is always caught on books as he passes by. But he of course does not look or buy any. Elrond has one of the best libraries in Valinor, courtesy of Gil-Galad's intense collecting phase before Elrond even arrived here. And Earendil knows that many Feanoreans like even Nerdanel herself personally sends Elrond books as well.

Many elves know this about Elrond and do the same thing, either out of respect, out of gratefulness for things he's done for them, to be kind, to try to curry favor with him, to try to be friends, or to try to have done something nice for him in case they ever get injured and want to ask for his help.

How could Earendil possibly compete with any of that, he thinks.

Of course Elrond also has a actual city full of people who would literally compete with each other [with pleasure] to serve him. Over time Earendil realizes these people are actually Feanor's quarter people -- Feanorean supporter people. And they treat Elrond like he's their favorite person of all time.

He can tell, in the little things they do. The way they arrange his food so fancily, the way they act so submissively around him, even though he doesn't even care about fancy things or desire people to humble themselves before him. Elrond is very humble himself, without even thinking about it. They are all much older than he is. And they act like it's an honor to take his teacup when he's done with it!

Earendil has met other famous people, rulers, all that. Their people treat them efficiently as servants. But not with the love that Elrond's people show him. He sees them beam lovingly at him, unseen. Small things like that.

When he and Glorfindel are off on strange jaunts in nature in the valley, Earendil can easily find where they are based on the percentage of new Rivendell common worker elves who are smiling to themselves.

Elrond seems oblivious to this, and also interestingly acts like his servants are his friends. This is something Earendil has never seen before in real elvish society. Class is a real thing in the world of the elves. Most elves socialize based on class.

Elrond though does not seem to have heard of that principle. When he takes Earendil to be introduced to the famous ringbearers, the halfing people, they give Earendil a fancy seat on a couch and Elrond sits on a pillow on the floor.

When Earendil protests this, Elrond tells him it's his old tradition with them.

Eventually, he meets Feanor. Before that he meets Maedhros -- they both stop, startled, [it's not like either of them are easily confused with others] and he says, "Lord, I am sorry to hear of your suffering before," politely, and bows, and walks away.

He makes sure to speak in Sindarin, seeing as who knows how offended he would get by sa-si-ing.

"Wait," Maedhros says, softly, and Earendil turns around, surprised.

It's not like he doesn't know what people say. He has very, very keen ears ... to be honest he's wondered whether his senses are better than those of elves, but he forbears to ask anyone due to the implied insult, either given or taken.

Everyone has been worried about Maedhros talking to him. Apparently they all think he'll say 'Elrond is mine/ours' and things like that.

"Could I speak to you for a moment," he continues, and Earendil nods respectfully. Regardless of what he did as a kinslayer, this elf is a famous opponent of Morgoth and Sauron. He deserves respect.

And he did a lot positive things for his sons.

Maedhros goes into another area, and he follows. He finally sits down on a bench in a random little garden area; new Rivendell has many of those. "I must tell you," he says, "I have greatly grieved what was done in my life, by me. But I was happy to think at least the boys were spared. Much good though that did, since Elros chose to die."

Earendil is taken aback. He too kind of thought that this son of Feanor would just say 'Elrond's mine, get out of here you fraud' and walk off.

But instead he keeps talking. "I have thought, though him being with us comes from evil, at least we were good to Elrond. He always seemed pleased by us. And now, too. Though for you this must necessarily come as an affront, that he should cleave to us."

"No," Earendil interjects. Maedhros pauses, so he continues. "It isn't. And I'm happy he's with you. Was with -- is. Both, I guess. I gave up the right of getting to speak for him when I abandoned them." His throat closes a little. "I'm so happy he has both of you back. He tries to pretend and be nice to me, but ... it's all a farce, of course."

Maedhros stares at him.

"I wish I'd been one of you," Earendil adds bitterly. "Because you adopted children who needed someone; and I left them. I have no good track record when it comes to my only family member caring about me. I have no family, anymore. It's funny how everyone pretends I'm a good person and not who I really am. But of course that's the truth -- Elrond's real father is Maglor, and his real grandmother is Nerdanel."

He looks down at his shoes, leaning on his arms as he sits beside Maedhros.

"You can be one of us -- now," Maedhros says. He looks up at him. "You are free to remake yourself. Just as I and my brother want to be someone new, you too can be. I know Maglor likes to talk to you; he has said he holds you in high esteem."

Oh. That's nice of him, Earendil thinks. It's probably because he feels sorry for him. Maglor's always seemed like a nice guy. And Elrond likes him, which means he's really great -- Elrond is not a fan of a lot of elves, he's learned over time. He judges them harshly.

Earendil hasn't asked how he judges him, because that is a scenario that will turn out poorly for him.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and gets up, and leaves.

It's just sad to be him sometimes. Elrond will always think of the Feanor sons with happy memories, and specialness. And he will always think of Earendil as a stranger who deserted him. Along with the mother who did even worse.

He goes back to his little house in new Rivendell, and cries. Just as he feels disconnected from his own parents, so too has he failed his own son. Sons, he reminds himself. Then he's sad all over again over Elros being dead. He didn't even want to come over the sea and meet his parents. Ever.

Earendil marvels at the energy of Elrond's elves. Sometimes he barely has any. When he does have some he goes and sees what Elrond's up to. He's in a small way lost his passion for sailing, but only a little.

Gil-Galad often asks him to take him out on his boat, so he does. Elrond comes too, and sometimes even Glorfindel does as well. It's nice to hear them compliment his magic boat, though often he just sails in the real sea for them.

Elrond always lounges around as Gil-Galad does the work of sailing. Sometimes he seems to like to look at the water by the railing.

Earendil does not see Maedhros again, but he does meet Feanor. When he sees him, it's obvious who he is. He even looks larger than life. He knows from hearsay and Elrond too that Elrond has spent time with Feanor and his family before.

He also knows Feanor sends him boxes of things all the time -- books, clothes, jewels. Earendil has never given him the little things he's bought him and Maglor. There was no point before, and now with Feanor back in action there's really no point.

Chapter Text

Elwing rarely talks to him nowadays. Not that she did before, a lot, in Valinor. But still. When the world is remade, they don't remarry.

It's something built in, somehow, he can feel it, in this remaking of all things – all contracts are null and void now. So people who want to remarry do. He can't find the courage to ask Elwing what she wants, and she doesn't come and talk to him, so he just stays like a hermit in his house in Elrond's city.

It's not like he blames her. He wasn't even ever there for her anyway. And he's still pretty torn up about how she abandoned their children. Her people in Doriath got her to safety [with the stone, even], but she can't get their babies out? After ample warning that they were courting death by being open thieves [of the stone]?

He has no words. He's stupid, but he's not that stupid. [But he didn't try to tell her what to do either, so he knows it's his fault too. It just seemed like not his place -- it's her father's thingy. Earendil was from a different ruined city.]

He has never seen Maglor's power in action but he doesn't need to; he can imagine it. Likewise, one can imagine all the rest of it as well. That is, the use of his magic in terms of war.

Sometimes Earendil still goes to see his parents, who of course remarried immediately after the remaking of the world. Elrond comes with him at times, which is so nice of him. Really he likes it outside of the purpose even [breaking the ice of how distant Earendil is to them], because it's his son choosing to be kind to him, even though he doesn't deserve it.

He feels very remote from Tuor and Idril, personally. Earendil was so young when that monster elf tried to kill him, and hurt mother. But father saved them, and mother fought too. And the whole city fell to literal monster creatures. He was so scared.

Gondolin had been nice before, even if he was often alone. Apparently he had some great foretelling about him, he had learned as a little boy. So the elves all acted like he was special, different – not even just because mother was a princess. Even more so, because of this other foreseen thing. So by the time he had to sail all the time in the sky, he was used to being alone.

And then at Sirion, his parents left for the West together on a ship when he was still extremely young.

Cirdan helped him build his ship, which was nice of him. [So he feels even worse for being jealous that Gil-Galad goes to Cirdan all the time, often with Elrond, at the shore.

… Instead of him. He shouldn't be so envious of Cirdan, he knows.]

His parents weren't even there to see him marry Elwing. All the highest elves had told them they must marry immediately, to secure the bloodline of the two greatest lines. He and Elwing were already friends, and always together, since no one else was as high up in rank, or different/non-elf. They two were the only odd ones out. Everyone else was just a normal elf.

He likes Elwing a lot, actually. And he thinks she likes him too. But they were both unhappy with their lot then, in different ways.

Elwing, even to his inexpert healer eyes, had been extremely distraught back then over losing her father to literal death. It had made Earendil afraid about his own mortal father, who was off who knows where with Idril on a ship. His parents survived Gondolin's fall with him, only to leave him right away. So he too felt bereft, just not to the level Elwing did. At least Idril would live forever, he thought, even if he lost his father.

And would he die too, someday? Lost to the elves and the world forever?

The thought was frightening. The elves all went together to Mandos and then Aman, he knew. But what of him? Alone, he would die and be apart from them all, and never see his mother again?

It was excruciating to think about. He often found himself throwing himself into fights with wild creatures on his ship just to court death. But then he chose to be an elf, to be with Elwing, to see his children maybe [though he can't imagine they'd even choose to speak to him, after all this,] and to see his mother hopefully.

And Elwing had lost too her mother, her brothers [and they were like her father, right, dead forever]. She often just laid silently on the floor and did nothing, back then. The elves wanted her to be Queen of Sirion, and him to be King. … He doesn't like being in charge of anything, other than his ship. And also he knows nothing about all of that. And she could barely function at all.

And he wanted to find his parents. Now that he's older he sees how insane it was that he married Elwing so young. They were both simply traumatized in a hundred different ways, and had no one, no family with them, and were scared.

And then he left Elwing and their sons, desperate to find his parents. And then also to ask the Valar for help, too. He hadn't expected her to join him, but it was both amazing and terrible. For with the jewel, she brought news of their sons being dead.

He believed that was true for a long time. He had felt sick with grief.

As the remaking approached, they all planned for it. Earendil went down to the shore with his boat, and many other elves, all ready in case there really was a battle. The magic users all got ready too, like Elrond and Artanis. Maglor stayed with his son, and Glorfindel, which he likes. He knows they would defend him.

But then nothing happens. There is no fight. The world just changes.

So he treks back to new Rivendell after he and Cirdan celebrate. Elrond and everyone are there, looking happy. He honestly doesn't recognize Maglor – before he looked like a warped skeleton thing. Now he looks flush with health and glows mightily.

Elrond looks very young; it's enough to make him want to cry, just to see it.

He and Elrond talk all the time now, and it's still exciting for him. Elrond being nice to him is very much thrilling and scary; it's much easier to fight some monster than it is to be sitting with Elrond, afraid of what he might say. Because he could say some things. Some true things, that would make Earendil unable to stop crying, honestly.

Actually, Elrond never asks him what he assumed he would. He never asks about Gondolin, it's fall, or about fighting monster creatures, or his 'heroism' stuff that the elves love to rave about. He doesn't ask about how he left him and Elwing and Elros. Any of it.

At times, Earendil almost wants to tell him, randomly. He doesn't, of course. Hasn't he, and Elwing, done enough? In the bad way, that is.

Maglor is still nice to him, now that he's clearly recovered from being dead, or however Elrond would term it healer-wise. He stays there, in Elrond's town, and does not return to live with his family, only visiting them.

Earendil is glad of it; the same for Glorfindel, how he's always stayed there and not returned to new Gondolin. [Earendil would never go back there; even his parents won't. He doesn't really remember Glorfindel from Gondolin, of course, he was too young, and he was mostly alone there.]

Maglor and Glorfindel are his only friends.

[He can't count Elrond in that, because they have a weirder, more awkward relationship.] Fingon though is his friend too; but he cannot speak to him now, now that he's finally gotten Maglor's brother back. Even Earendil knows of Fingon's extreme obsession with him – he braved hell itself alone just to try to help him, and won.

During his time in Valinor, Earendil witnessed his many periods of depression at being separated from Maedhros. He often was recruited to try to 'do' things with Fingon, to distract him from his pain, which he was happy to do. It's also just nice to be part of something, have a purpose. And also to be part of a group.

So now it's sweet to think of Fingon as finally being happy. Maglor he knows is now constantly with his brother in his new house in Elrond's city's outskirts, leaving Glorfindel to often look a little bereft. So sometimes he asks him if he wants to do anything, and Glorfindel agrees. Regular elves think they know each other, but they don't – not personally. Glorfindel of course technically knew him as a baby, but Earendil was more occupied with his toy blocks when they knew each other than interchangable elves.

He cannot begrudge Maedhros as much as one would assume, as everyone knows what he suffered. Earendil can't even imagine it.

When he finally did see him once, Maedhros looks very distant. You can tell something happened to him, even though they've all been remade. It's in his manner, his face, his body, how he moves. It's terrible to see.

Elrond doesn't seem to go to Maedhros very often, which he hates to say is almost nice to know. Not in a cruel way of course, but in a 'his 'son' only really is Maglor's, so he only has to share him with one person'. Okay, share isn't the right word. Earendil only knows Elrond as a random other elf. His real relationship of family ties will never extend to him, ever, he knows. That is for Maglor alone.

Elwing comes to see Elrond at times, he's aware, and even comes to see him too. She makes up weird excuses to see him, but he knows her. It's nice to have company. Neither of them mention the whole 're-marry remade' thing.

Elrond doesn't seem like either of them, he thinks, as he has tea with Elwing at her house one day. Elrond built her one, which was so nice of him since she already has her tower on the shore.

It's extremely messy for some reason. "I know," Elwing tells him suddenly. He blinks.

She is a very unqiue person. At times she has lain still for days in the past, and then sometimes talks all the time. He is used to it, despite only being with her once in a while, due to his sailing. "Elrond isn't like us at all, but the music elf sometimes thinks he does things like us," she tells him.

"Really?" he asks, putting his teacup down.

Elwing often eats with magic because she is made of magic, just like Earendil is made of 'mannish' things, in part. So food just disappears, and tea is gone from her cup, but she is consuming it, somehow. He is used to this.

She calls most elves monikers instead of names, so Maglor is the 'music' elf. Glorfindel is the 'strong' elf. Gil-Galad is the 'spear' elf. Really, Earendil agrees with her names for everyone almost always. She has told him before that she at times has difficulty with telling elves apart because they are all the same. He doesn't have that problem, but he understands. The three of them [them two and Elrond] seem very different than elves in a lot of ways, even visually.

"Yes, I was excited," Elwing says honestly. "All the magic stuff is like me, he said. Not like him!"

Like Maglor, she means, that Elrond's use of magic does not echo his 'real' father's [Maglor's], then, but instead her.

Earendil smiles, happy for her. She smiles too, lopsided; she is very honest in her expressions. She does not put on airs like elves do.

Elves are different than them, they are more reserved and barely express anything half the time, and try to look perfect and act sedate. Well, elves are rather off-putting, often, other than Elrond's circle. And his mother Idril.

Here in Valinor he's met Elenwë, his grandmother, who died when his own mother was a little girl. His grandfather is obsessed with her, but she is angry with how he handled his life, he knows. Elenwë is nice to Earendil, though, which he likes. Both he and his mother Idril are awkwardly trying to spend time with her once in a while, because of course neither of them really knows her [Idril barely as a tiny child, Earendil never.]

Fingolfin on the other hand always says he wants to see Earendil as much as he will come. But that is strange too, because he does not know this old famous person. And they cannot talk about many, many topics – like Maglor, or how Earendil ruined his own family just like everyone else in his line did, it seems.

"And he said Elrond was like you, too," Elwing tells him, looking happy for him. "All the time, how he acts, things like that."

He feels touched, almost teary-eyed. Maglor is very nice to them despite being a Feanorean who up close saw their disgusting mistakes and then tried to fix them by raising and loving the boys. He has no doubt it's all true, because Maglor doesn't seem like someone who would say otherwise.

Elrond has told him exactly what Maglor told him and his brother – that his heroic parents of course loved them dearly, but were scared a bad monster would destroy the whole continent, and so went off to fight monsters heroically and save the world. And that of course they would come back for them, obviously, it was just that they didn't want them to be in peril on the way, that's all, so Maglor was just taking care of them as his sons in spirit until then out of honor.

Of course all of that is a lie. But Maglor insisted to the children that it was true. Elrond relates all of this to him in an almost amused way; it's cutting. But it is Elrond's right to be cruel to him, after what he and Elwing did. Sometimes after talking to him he has to go home to his house or his ship and just cry.

And on top of that, all he can imagine is how Elros hated them so much he was happy to avoid them forever – literally, in the worst way. So whatever Elrond feels about them, Elros legitimately, seriously hated them passionately far more, even.

It's difficult.

It'd be easier in a way if Maglor had been a [mostly] bad person who happened to tolerate his sons as some type of bargaining chip – instead Maglor's just better than him. If Feanor hadn't fucked around and ruined his kids' lives, Earendil has no doubt that Elrond would never have spoken to his blood parents, seeing them as lesser [if somehow Maglor had got him again in that hypothetical scenario.]

So he knows that if Maglor says he and Elrond are very similar in behaviors, then it is very true. It's nice to think he shares something with his son. They are so disimilar, it can feel heartbreaking.

Even though he has a more distant relationship with his own parents, because they left when he was so young, he knows he is very like both of them. He is like Idril with her great planning, her thinking ahead strategically [with her passageway, with her evil cousin, et cetera.] And he is like his father Tuor with his great heroism and adventurous spirit, and his desire to be out exploring.

And Elwing is obviously very much like her father, her grandmother, and Melian, what with her magic, he assumes.

"Yes," she agrees. "I am like them." He nods.

Elwing does not need to resort to elven behaviors like talking, she can feel a soul's feelings and expression naturally, like the maiar do. But she has practiced only communicating to elves out loud, as her father had to. As Luthien had to, she's told him. Sometimes she has him help her practice how to imitate an elf; it's hard for her.

"Do you think Elrond would take a name from me?" Elwing asks him, looking vulnerable.

Her feelings wash over him; she's afraid. She often can't control her magic well; she says her father was bad at it too, that her mother tried to help him practice restraining his immense power. She hasn't asked Elrond, she told him once, as she is afraid he'll curse her for burdening him with it. It's true that it's obviously hard for her, especially since society is all elves [ie not maiar, etc] so she has to be careful around them constantly, which seems exhausting.

"I don't know, couldn't you offer one, or even a couple of mother names to Elrond and see how he reacts?" Earendil suggests.

He wouldn't dare give Elrond a father name now, himself. What a joke. Elrond probably already has one from Maglor and his brother, too.

Eventually Earendil even found out that the boys have a fake birthday because no one knew it, so Maglor just made one up and claimed to them that it was their birthday [which they believed] and then had it celebrated yearly, in the mortal style, not knowing what Elwing actually did for the boys culturally. … And Earendil had always been sailing anyway, never there regardless, back then, so he didn't/doesn't even know himself.

Elwing does a physical motion that means she doesn't know.

"His name is 'Elrond Peredhel', and Elros' name didn't reference us either," she comments. "Unless the 'half-elven' is meant to mean you. But I want them to mention me, too."

She frowns, upset. He gets it.

"It's definitely not about me," he consoles her. Currently she's floating in a weird position; he sits in a chair. This is typical. "I wonder who picked that name out in the first place."

Elwing suddenly looks at him directly, tilting her head over and over. She often does that, she's told him it helps her stop from actually affecting others with magic when talking to them one on one.

"I'll go look into everyone's minds for it," she exclaims, and turns into a big cloud, and moves out. He watches her go.

The cloud goes off, floating up and away just like a real cloud.

That is normal too; she can turn into strange things, mostly objects or parts of nature, though she can turn into animal shapes too. As youths they had played like that, with her being a big leopard or pelican or wolf or giant squid. But that was rare, as mostly she was morose due to the trauma of her life; he felt the same way, as much can be similar. She had it worse than him, he knew.

Chapter Text

Elwing eventually comes back from her mind-investigation about the word 'peredhel'; he stays home until she does. She returns as a tumbleweed that rolls in somehow [the door is shut].

Then she turns into a person.

"Elros picked it, so Elrond used it to to honor him," she tells Earendil. The name 'peredhel', he realizes she means. "The music elf helped them brainstorm about it, telling them they must reserve those potential names for their 'real' parents. But that he and his brother had epithet names for them, given out of friendship and love for them. But he didn't want them to supercede the ones their parents would tell them when they returned to get them, 'for they of course already had chosen them'."

She gives Earendil a troubled look. He feels the same way. Both of them hadn't even thought of the boys' mother names or father names.

[Elwing had barely inhabited her body when it had the children, finding it weird and painful; she had used her power to exist as a type of ghostly presence during that. Earendil had stayed home with her because she was young, they were both young, and she was scared of it all. So was he, but he tried to be strong for her. Everyone kept telling them she had to have a kid immediately. Earendil had never even kissed someone before, and who knows how mature they both even were then, with their higher blood?

After the children were born, they both watched as the nurses did all the real work. Neither of them had ever really seen a baby before for any length of time. Elwing then returned to her body from her magical form; she said it hurt still, and cried. He tried to comfort her. When the nurses tried to leave them alone with the children, he ran after them to bring them back in a panic, to have some of them stay all the time in shifts, and Elwing even pulled some back through the air magically in her haste.

... They both were excellent at giving the babies toys, though.

Thankfully there were lots of people who took care of the children while Elwing tried to be Queen of Sirion despite having little education, and Earendil tried to never step foot on land if he could help it, metaphorically.]

Elrond hasn't asked about a lot like this since he's known him. And Elros is dead.

Elwing suddenly weeps; he feels her sorrow like a strange mist in the air, soddening him and his spirit, drenching him in her sadness. He sits there and feels it with her, crying himself.

He sometimes feels tired of being an elf, to be honest. It's been exhausting. Even when he and Elwing were forced by the Valar to choose, thank goodness they let them choose and didn't just kill Earendil for breaking their weird 'no mortals in Aman' nonsense rule, he wanted it to end. For all this pain to just stop.

But when Elwing said she wanted to stay alive and see if the boys came over, he realized he too wanted that; also, what if his parents somehow were found. [They were, they got to Aman, he later learned.] And he loved her, too, little that they knew each other, admittedly. She acted like she favored him, which was soothing, exciting, in his life of loss.

They both change their clothes together, after she finishes crying, because they are both soaked in water from her uncontrollable magic that's acting out due to her grief, and lay next to each other on a million pillows, like a big sinkhole of them. Elwing always has liked this, and he does too.

"Do you still like the sea?" she asks him as they lay close. She doesn't do elven 'hand' things, like shake hands, touch hands, all that. She is more of a 'cuddle without moving her arms' person.

Honestly, he's used to her ways, and prefers them over the elves. He's seen them, how they act. His mother and father act very loving, in their way. Tuor actually doesn't act mannish very much at all, so it's fitting that he's an elf now [Earendil was happy to find that out, as one can imagine.]

"I do," he replies. "Do you still like nature?"

"Yes," she says. They always ask this together. It's a weird refrain they developed from childhood together; they grew up together in Sirion and married as soon as the they were both mature physically [though the elves weren't sure how to measure that in either of them, they admitted] and as soon as the courtiers were able to convince both of them to immediately marry and Elwing to bear a child.

They both let the courtiers decide all the wedding stuff, neither of them had the energy to pretend to care.

Elwing often goes back and forth between wanting intimacy and not wanting it. Sometimes she wants to be with him all the time, even having relations. Other times she wants to be alone. He doesn't mind her schedule, it seems much more natural and nicer that how the elves seem to, as a group, act so cold and still all the time. He likes her passion, her advance and also her retreat, too. It's all very exciting.

He is lucky, in that, definitely.

They do many better things, that elves don't do. They sleep, they seem to relish food more [even the way Elwing magically eats often, she has confirmed it], they have better senses [even though Earendil is half-mannish, it just seems to improve him, weirdly, he thinks.]

But they also feel strong feelings of wanting to not live, which is not something elves seem to have as a problem. This must be the 'man' blood, Earendil thinks. His mother has told him before his father never feels any desire to leave the world, only great joy at getting to be an elf and stay with his family, with them. He apparently is one of the only people who's still tight with Turgon, as most shun him for his failures.

At least Earendil has Elwing. And maybe Elrond feels this way too, he wonders, but can't ask of course. It's too personal, and yeah. And Elros … Uh. Hm.

"He does," Elwing says, and he blinks. "He feels it too. Elrond. Even the music elf does – he is something else, almost. How strange he is an elf, with his power, and longing for annihilation. He'd fit better as one of us."

"Oh," Earendil remarks, thinking about it all.

Elwing often can feel his soul's thoughts and feelings, and will answer him out loud as practice in not acting solely like a maia [which would make her even less good at acting a little elf-like.]

This makes it easier for him, as he doesn't have to articulate himself ever with her. She mostly knows how he feels, what he thinks, already. It's really handy and easier to talk to her than one of the elf people. Elrond doesn't do this, out of hatred for him or just cause he doesn't want to, he doesn't know. Surely he inherited it from her.

And yet he doesn't act openly like her, when he's with Earendil. He wonders what Elrond acts like when he's not there. What he talks about, just normal things.

"He lets his power float above him," Elwing tells him suddenly. "Elrond. He doesn't put it in his body. I don't know why he does that. It would be hard for me to, to separate myself into another place. Weird."

"Maybe he wants to camoflauge himself as a 'regular' elf," Earendil opines, and she moves her arms around. He can feel her emotion of unsure-ness, of not knowing.

"I don't like acting like them," Elwing tells him.

"Me either," he agrees. He of course does not have the burden and hardship that Elwing does in this and other regards, but still.

Maybe since Maglor raised the boys, they naturally tried to mimick his elven behaviors, instead of whatever their real more non-elven ones would have been.

How would they have turned out if their blood parents had raised them?

"Not well, I think," Elwing says, startling him, even though he's used to how she talks. He's much more reactive than elves are, he's noticed. They never seem startled. "I am still not good at being a mother. But maybe I should bring my mother to him, and say: this can be for you, too. My mother is good at being one."

Typically Nimloth lives alone, he knows. Once in a while, Elwing sees her; Earendil has only met her once, when she had Elwing introduce them. She seemed like a regular elf lady, but sad, which obviously makes sense, given that most of her family is gone forever.

"You're good at being a mother," he defends. Okay, technically he'd been gone almost always and has no idea. But still.

Elwing pours her feelings onto him, this time on purpose – he can tell the difference. She is thanking him this way for saying that, with loving feelings. She feels very possessive of him, always he can feel in her emotions, which he doesn't mind.

… He kind of likes that. Nobody else is lining up to even talk to him, much less anything else, despite his fame as a hero.

She leaves after a while, saying she needs to go talk to her friends. He bids her goodbye as she turns into a snake and slithers away.

Her friends are some of the lesser maiar, many of whom come and talk to her. Apparently they all thought of Luthien as one of them, so this is just her granddaughter, in their eyes.

Of course amongst themselves, the maiar don't use real forms like elves do, or talk out loud the way elves do, and so on. So any practice Elwing gains at imitating an elf withers away at these times.

Earendil flatters himself that he's pretty good at acting elvish. But who knows what real elves would say. He asks Maglor next time he sees him.

Maglor doesn't lie, even when he probably should, Earendil has noticed. The only person he's willing to sugarcoat stuff for is maybe Elrond a bit [but not much, he's seen], his elder brother, and Fingon a lot. Glorfindel not at all, who seems to love that.

He thankfully finds Maglor alone in Elrond's and his rooms, and Maglor invites him to have tea. "Glorfindel's still after me to eat," Maglor tells him. "So feel free to vouch for me, and also feel free to embellish," he jokes.

Now Maglor glows incredibly, since his soul was in the original light of the trees, and as Feanor's son he has more intrinsic blood power than most [in terms of his genes, not rank.] He still wears his old plain clothes.

It's felt like meeting him all over again, weirdly. The 'old' him's words coming out of a new person's mouth. Although over time he's seemed to get very underweight for some reason, and he does keep cutting his hair very aggressively. Honestly, it's nice to talk to eccentric elves, way more than he'd want to talk to regular ones that sometimes almost seem interchangable with each other.

Pages bring in food, and Earendil actually eats while Maglor only eats certain things. This is some oddity about him, he remembers.

"If you did not know me," Earendil asks him, eating a bunch of little fancy sandwiches, "would you think I was an elf? Do you think I could pretend well enough?"

Maglor smiles at him, and pours them wine. Elves love it, but Maglor waters his down weirdly. Earendil only has a little, because his tolerance for it is not like that of an elf.

"Don't worry, you come off as much higher than a mere elf," Maglor tells him, thinking he will be pleased, he can tell. He has a reassuring manner in this. "No one could ever confuse you for a commoner, only an elf, in any regard. The stories must be true, that you were radiant even as a baby. Greater looking than a regular infant."

"Oh," he acknowledges. Well, so much for that.

"What's embarrassing is that I could tell the children were different, that Elrond was special, but it took me a while to really make the connection about them," Maglor continues, playing with a spoon in some creme pudding.

Maglor actually behaves rather not like an elf in that way, at times, and in others. He fiddles with things where an elf would be still. He reacts where an elf would not. Earendil has noticed it now many times. It's easy to see often as he sits near Glorfindel so much, and Glorfindel sometimes acts like a real elf.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Maglor murmurs. "Really. How unbelievable."

" … Were they scared?" Earendil asks him, his voice trailing into a whisper, and finds himself weeping out of the blue. It's just so hard to imagine his little toddler babies during a war, about to be left to slaughter or worse, being taken by Morgoth's servants, and Elwing simply abandoning them.

Yes, Earendil abandoned the three of them first. He knows.

But still.

How little they looked when he saw them those few times when he wasn't sailing. They seemed so fragile and pure, pudgy and innocent and silly and cute. Both of them together, playing. Saying nonsense words to each other.

He cries some more.

Later he comes out of it and realizes that Maglor is soothing him, holding him in his arms and singing to him quietly. It's calmed him, he realizes. He feels more alert now … but stays there in his embrace anyway. It's just nice. Maglor is a very warm, gentle person up close; he actually also was too when he was looking like a corpse. He is very kind to Earendil; much nicer than Elrond is, which makes sense.

Being hugged feels good. For being a famous criminal, Maglor has great bedside manner. As he lays there against him, he wonders if this is what it was like for Elrond and Elros, then. Being comforted so thoroughly; it's like his aura too is just so relaxing. Maglor's spirit's presence being so close seems to shimmer love all over and it makes him relax.

He wakes up later, and realizes he fell asleep on him.

"Sorry," he coughs out, and Maglor helps him up off himself and gives him a cool cloth for his face and eyes.

"I have wept most of my life, and looked far worse than that," Maglor tells him. "They were not scared. They somehow were waiting, in safety, for me. Elros always preferred to be out and about, being adventurous, like you. Elrond wanted to be more near elves in general, and heal them, I think, using his power. He did that even when very young."

Maglor pours them more tea and makes fresh plates up for them again, which is kind of him, because Earendil has a post-crying residual eyes hurting situation. Also, he has a headache.

"Why don't you take some potion, to relax," Maglor suggests, showing him one. Elrond has told him before which he can probably take safely, seeing as certain ones are a bit less strong than those he'd dose an elf with.

Earendil accepts it. It does make him feel a little better. And Maglor's words made him relax too.

"Now later on, did they curse me sometimes and cry and smack me? Of course," Maglor adds calmly. "But I knew that would happen."

"Why did you even take them?" Earendil asks. Since he didn't know who they were right away, so it wasn't a hostage situation, or politics. "Do you love children overmuch, or something like that?"

Maglor laughs, looking pleased.

"I do not," he explains. "I only love music. But I felt the rightness of taking them with me when I saw them. And knew it must be so. One could say it felt like the great music of existence seemed to hint to me that it was what must be done. … Also, I couldn't leave them there, everything was on fire. For obvious me and my family related reasons. And soon the dark enemy's forces would move in, too. I would have taken any child in, in that circumstance, they just happened to be unique."

"Were they angry I wasn't there, then?" he asks Maglor.

Maglor looks surprised. "I told them where you were. Out doing brave things, fighting bad thingamabobs to save everyone," he says dismissively. "Besides, they were busy with their lessons. I told them they had to finish all their tutoring work of years before they could even think about going out and trying to kill some giant monstrous behemoth of the deep. I made them do a lot of learning work, all the time."

"Did they complain?" Earendil asks.

Yes, it is humiliating to ask his literal enemy dash child stealer basic questions about his own kids. He has no choice, he can't ask Elrond. And Elros hates him, and is dead.

But Maglor isn't that bad, if you have to have an enemy.

Maglor smiles again. "Oh yes. I would tell them, 'when you are kings in your own right, what shall your people say when you can't do any math or write proper formal diplomatic letters? They will say, who has not taught you this? And your answer will be 'Oh Maglor, son of Feanor, who let us just play all the time and never read because he is wicked.' And then how much more cursed my name will be. Trust me, I don't need help in that area.' … Actually, I studied both of your realms, and tried to imitate their customs for the children."

"Really?" he says, surprised.

"Yes," Maglor says causally, like this isn't pretty wild. "I had everyone gather as much information as they could about both cities, and then we replicated it all. Clothes, food, customs, language. I releaned Quenya, the 'other' way, and we three only spoke in your, both of you's way. So they would know real proper Elvish, and be able to read it, but still fit in with you all, when they went back to your society. And then we made sure to speak mostly in Sindarin every day, to honor the mother's heritage with the whole 'let's make Quenya illegal' thing."

Earendil sa-si's, obviously, and Elwing doesn't know much Quenya at all, due to Thingol's language ban. This doesn't help her with her general lack of integration in Aman, as many elves here don't speak Sindarin.

Actually though, those Teleri here really love her, the ones who built Elwing her tower, as do her own people from Doriath. They all send her things, and also accost him once in a while with stuff for her. They're nice to him, but he knows it's only about her.

Elwing is very angry, he knows, at everyone from Doriath, and stays away from them. She has told him she cannot talk to Melian without getting so angry the ground starts dissolving and being ruined around her, as if she's some kind of volcano or earthquake. So she doesn't talk to her, not wanting to ruin the elves' land of Aman.

"What about you?" Earendil asks him. Maglor looks confused. "How is your family?"

He looks shocked.

"Well, unfortunately, they're alive," Maglor tells him frankly. "But one can't have everything. At least my elder brother can heal here, from his torment, of course. Now I didn't need my father to make the trip back to life, but I don't ever get what I want."

Earendil nods. "I'm happy to see Lord Fingon doing so better, now," he agrees. "You have an easy way about you, though, with your father. I never know what to say to my parents."

Maglor blinks at him, looking like he doesn't understand. Earendil has seen him talk to his own people by now, and even Feanor.

"They left when I was really young," Earendil explains. "Same for Elwing, in a way. We both don't know how to talk to any of them."

Maglor frowns. "I guess I hadn't really thought of that," he says honestly. "There's so much craziness going on in my family, and Finwe's other lines, that I barely even notice anyone else half the time."

Earendil tries not to chuckle at this. It's true that the royal family is known to be a total mess, with drama and craziness at every turn. At least now Feanor's group is the least of the problems, for once.

"I have only really met you and your older brother," Earendil comments. "I mean where I know you a little. But I can't imagine being in a big family."

Maglor makes an impatient noise. "You're not missing out on anything. Trust me," he says dryly. "It's like having to deal with a lot of relatives that are annoying but you can't smack the shit out of them. Well, usually. Really, Nelyo is my only brother, in truth. And I guess Amras is … acceptable."

Earendil has not really seen this Amras boy, who is a twin. Like Elwing's brothers, like Elrond and Elros. The only other twins he's heard of. To be honest he doesn't want to see him. Just beause he's a reminder of Elros choosing to leave forever instead of even meeting his parents once.

And of course, he clearly probably choose this due to his and Elwing's sins, and this all has hurt Elrond terribly, twice over now that he's lost Elros, so suffice it to say that Earendil really doesn't want to even see Amras from a distance or be reminded of twins.

[Elwing never talks about her family unless to say her father was 'just as worthless as her. But not as evil as HER.' The first 'her' he knows means she herself, Elwing, and the second one is more vehement, and that always means Melian, he's aware. The 'worthless' is about being a thief by keeping the stone.]

"It must be interesting, how you're all so talented," Earendil muses. Indeed, Maglor's family is famous for being made up of lots of geniuses.

Earendil feels like Elrond is the best part of his family; Turgon now seems like a fool, Earendil himself as well, Idril he supports but felt so adrift when she and father left – and his father he likes, but he doesn't like how they made a half-mortal child and put this all on him. It's all a burden. Same for Elwing, in his unvoiced opinion, making a child with magic powers. There was no need for either of them to exist.

He knows they both resent their lives. … Elros clearly did too. He doesn't know if Elrond does.

"I think it's more like obnoxious, except at holidays when you get a nice gift from one of them," Maglor explains, looking like he's pondering it. "I'll almost give some of them that. … No, I take it back, I don't."

"I wish I had siblings," Earendil tells him. Really, Elwing feels like his sister, and his friend, and his wife too.

Maglor looks surprised.

"People don't usually say that to me," he finally says, amused. "Based on my siblings. But here, don't you have Glorfindel? And Gil-Galad? And Fingon too. I am sure they all count you close to them."

And you, Earendil thinks.

Maglor, he knows, often talks about himself as if he's actually dead sometimes, or in prison, or in a coma. It's strange to hear. He's right here. He talks to Earendil all the time, and even does nice things for him.

Gil-Galad similarly is kind to him, and invites him to have tea once in a while. He has no doubt that Elrond pre-approves this; one of the great thing about Elrond's friends is how they so clearly are looking out for him.

Glorfindel does all different things with him, all the time. He treats him like a random elf, not like the baby he knew before in Gondolin. And not like a hero either, just like a regular friend. It's very fun.

He invites him to play sports with him and his men, but Earendil turns him down. It would look terrible if he won over Feanoreans, or they won over him. And goodness, if he or they accidentally bruised a finger it would seem very bad, in terms of public perception.

It's obvious that Glorfindel is obsessed with Maglor. He often even talks about him randomly, saying he wants to hear him play today, or that he's buying some little thing for him and says 'he'll complain about this', with glee.

[Earendil had worried that Glorfindel would try to use their Gondolin similarity to talk about it, but he never has – he talks about many things, but never, ever Gondolin.]

And Maglor seems to favor Glorfindel very much, teasing him and being quite fresh with him in a way he isn't with anyone else, at least that Earendil's seen. It's very compelling, being near them all. Everyone is so lively in a way that he and Elwing aren't, and Idril and Tuor aren't.

It's so fun to be around people, even if it's hard to think of what to say. He doesn't have a lot of experience in that. So mostly he just listens, and watches.

Glorfindel often takes him shopping in new Rivendell, and bemoans the whole time how he'll, "Never find the perfect gift for anyone!"

Earendil follows him, glancing at what he's looking at. Very fancy pens, it turns out, at this very moment.

Elves have many festivals, some of which were also celebrated in Gondolin. Here in new Rivendell there are those, and many more besides. He doesn't know about most of them, except that people send him gifts, and Elrond sometimes asks him to come for special meals that are clearly holiday-related. Also, he knows it's a holiday because the servants of Elrond decorate his house with different things.

He hasn't found the guts to ask anybody about most of it yet. He doesn't mind, anyway. It's interesting.

What is very clear is that Elrond is not from his Gondolin type culture at all, nor either from Elwing's Doriath type culture. There is no intense hierarchy in his town, no endless fancy bejeweled elves all over. Instead it's a hotbed of industry, art, creativity and inventing.

Elrond does many things, but not like a real Noldor elf would, he notices. But he is not like a 'lower' elf, either. Earendil knows all about elf hierarchy … they all seem pretty wicked, but whatever.

Personally, he thinks of himself as a different type of person, with only the culture of his mother and father.

"I'm sure they all would like anything you gave them," Earendil tells Glorfindel, who shakes his head.

"You aren't thinking," he informs him breezily.

Only Glorfindel, and a few others, treat him like a regular elf. It's great. He hates being weirdly glorified and idolized as some other 'creature' by the elves. Many bow before him if they see him. It's extremely uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Maglor laughs if he accidentally drops his cookie, and tells him about when Elros did the same thing once, and Glorfindel tries to swipe some from him on the sly.

"They probably all have everything they need already," Earendil tries again, following Glorfindel to an area that seems to sell shoes that may be made out of just jewels. Ugh, he tries to hide his grimace.

Indeed, Glorfindel's circle is all super rich elves of the highest blood and station. None need anything, and they have servants for that.

"It's not about needing things – let's go look at the hats," Glorfindel decides, and pulls him after him, darting to another area. "It's about showing something to someone. Recognizing them. Then they know you thought about them."

He watches Glorfindel try on different hats, as the shop clerks try not to smile as they pretend to turn away.

' … I never do that,' Earendil admits with osanwe. He and Elwing both never give people gifts; his parents don't to him either. He doesn't know about Nimloth, but he doubts she's giving elf gifts to Elwing. And he gives nothing to uh, well, um, even Elrond. [Glorfindel probably knows this already, he realizes.]

It just seems impossible, like almost mocking, to do that to their son.

'Would you like a trite little knick knack? Sorry we both abandoned you. Let's pretend it didn't happen and act out rituals that real families do just for our own selfish pleasure, despite not deserving it,' he imagines Elrond thinking of him. How grotesque.

'Do you think this would go with dark hair,' Glorfindel asks him with osanwe, about his current hat. So this must be for Maglor.

'Didn't I literally hear Maglor say 'buy me something and die at my hand, fool', recently, even?' Earendil asks him mentally, but Glorfindel waves him off.

"He was just joking, he loves getting stuff," Glorfindel says airily, switching hats and examining himself in an art nouveau mirror.

Well, it is true that they both like going after each other verbally, so maybe all of it is true at once, he thinks. He and Maglor have entire, long conversations in front of everyone while just constantly poking at each other with words for more attention, like youths in love. He's seen Glorfindel even hold him, touch him, do things for him proprietarily. Glorfindel taps Maglor very lightly on his knee, Earendil has seen, and Maglor kind of leans against him in the same way. And that's just in front of company.

"Let's check out the latest art," Glorfindel enthuses, and so they go and spend hours in the Rivendell art galleries. Earendil's not much of an art person, himself, unless you're talking about boats. But it is interesting to hear Glorfindel talk in depth about each piece.

Glorfindel buys a little painting picture, some elf stocking-socks [Earendil doesn't wear them himself], some jewels [no painite even though one piece is simply amazing, Glorfindel sighs – it's reddish, so he must mean that he can't get Maglor that for obvious reasons, or anyone else … for obvious reasons, as red is the color of Feanor in popular culture, even he knows], a few little very thick slippers [too overly cushioned, in Earendil's opinion], and some fancy hair ornaments.

They walk back together.

"There was practically nothing today," he tells Earendil mournfully, as he helps carry his multiple bags over to his rooms.

Earendil wisely does not dispute this, despite it being a totally insane claim. Glorfindel asks him if he wants to look in his closet for inspiration for his own wardrobe, or even borrow anything, and Earendil makes a hasty escape from this sartorial trap.

He does not really like elven clothes so much; Elwing neither. She often makes her raiment out of magic. Her house from Elrond is stocked with clothes befitting her status [that Elrond comissioned for her], he knows, because she sometimes asks him to help her choose 'something appropriately elf-y' from her closet, at times.

He alters his own clothes himself, by hand, to make them more comfortable. It's not like anyone sees him anyway, since he's always sailing. Well, he was. But Elrond asked him to stop, so he told the Valar he had to because of that. They didn't care; he didn't expect they would. No one really cares what he does.

He goes back to his house. He gets a lot of mail there, it's a job practically to go through it all the time.

Earendil waves hi to the servants that are out near his house and they wave back and are nice to him. He hurries inside. It almost makes him nervous, even now, to talk to them mostly. They just remind him of what happened – they're here because Elrond asked Maglor's people to come to him and build his city and live with him. … Because Earendil abandoned his family.

Inside, he works on his mail. Lots of people write different things. Maglor actually always complains about his own mail, and will ask Earendil for response advice, the results of which he also complains about.

Maglor is a very amusing person, very fun. He even was as a corpse before, too. He likes to go and see him.

It's harder to see Elrond, obviously, who is both not like that and also has a reason not to be 'fun' with him. Maglor treats him casually nicely, like Glorfindel.

To them, he's nothing. A random person that shows up. It's a relief, but also shows how pathetic he is, that he's not even Elrond's father, as he well knows. He's no one.

Elrond is very different. He seems to observe him a lot, just looking at him. Almost studying him, visually. Maybe even magically, he doesn't know. He is often silent with him. Earendil doesn't know what to say – what topic could possibly be safe?

Not sailing, holidays, their lives, other elves' lives, Aman's current happenings, et cetera. All of it is one degree of separation away from: you're a monster, Earendil.

He is well aware that if Elrond is too harsh to him for too long, he'll won't be able to survive it. It's just so painful.

His mail can be difficult, in general. Sometimes people write him and express sympathy about the evil Feanoreans stealing his children and clearly driving one to mortal permanent death. The irony is hiliarious, and also makes him have to take breaks in even reading, because he gets upset.

At times his parents write him, and say bland things. Lady Nerdanel writes him once in a while, about odd, random thoughts. He likes that.

Sometimes Gondolin elves write him and say 'come here and live with us' or they say 'Turgon betrayed us all, renounce him.' He doesn't have the energy either way.

Mostly, he gets sailing questions. He refers many people to Cirdan, citing him as having more knowledge.

No one writes and says the truth, about how it's a farce that people say he's Elrond's father. Some people write and tell him how happy they are to know that Elrond keeps Maglor as a prisoner.

It's disturbing to read.

Even apart from saving the boys, and giving them a princely life, and a life with love, Maglor is just a nice person in general. It's ghoulishly ironic to read about people criticizing him, since he did what he was told, by his father and then his brother, and suffered excruciatingly for it.

So too did Earendil do what he was told: marry Elwing, have a child, go to Valinor on a special mission.

Look where that all got him. This miserable life; Elros dead; Elrond merely tolerates him.

Anyway, he knows what it's like to trust the people around you, and then end up realizing they were all idiots and you're fucked, permanently.

He gets lonely a lot. It's hard to live here, or on his ship, or well, anywhere. It's just hard to live at all.

But Fingon has told him recently that if he ever wants to hear Maglor play, he must tell him with osanwe, and he'll ask him to do it for him, or say it's to please Nelyo, and that Maglor never questions anything like that. So he can go relax and listen to it, anytime.

That's nice of Fingon, even though it feels wrong to keep Maglor out of the loop on it.

Sometimes he's so desperate to relax that he can't help it, and asks Fingon for it. And Fingon will tell him if he can get Maglor to come to his and the brother's house, and if yes, then he walks over and sits out in the far distance from it, very far away, behind a tree. And then he gets to hear it.

Of course Maglor is pleased to play for him, or anyone if they ask him, honestly, but it gets tiring, to ask someone he owes so much too. This is just easier; his body is strong, but Earendil feels weak emotionally.

[Few elves are brave enough to ask; it's extremely rare, it seems, outside of the inner circle of Elrond. And many elves flee if Maglor is near [and not playing, just existing], which Earendil eventually finds out is to make it easier for Maglor to not be troubled by dealing with anyone, either his own people or any others.]

Maglor playing is the most incredible sensation there is, it feels like, other than intimacy [both the comforting and carnal types, with Elwing.] It's pure rapture. It's like someone is soothing his mind, his soul, effortlessly. He feels relief, peace; he can rest. He often falls into a deep sleep afterwards, so now he takes a little pillow with him when this happens, to rest his head on pre-emptively.

Fingon is kind enough to also tell him in general when Maglor is playing, so he can come hear it, just randomly. It happens all the time, but it's worth it to come listen that much. It feels so healing, like a higher level of true calm has come over him, at the end.

He knows too that loads of other people do this, not just him. When Maglor plays, huge groups of elves stop whatever they're doing and listen; it looks really odd, like time has stopped by magic. He feels the same way at those times, in a stasis of pleasure.

Elwing has told him she only likes it when Maglor plays 'light' music [well, not her words, but that's what she meant], but Earendil really likes the release of the deeper, more intense music. He feels like he can rest better, afterwards. If she wants to listen to him, she often will just go and appear before him and ask him to play a song about something for her, and he does, she's told Earendil.

He knows that she often spies when Gil-Galad asks to hear something, because he too only wants to hear light music. Elwing has told him it's due to his hatred of being reminded of his earlier life, which had some unhappy parts.

Eventually, back at home, Elwing comes by in the coming days. It's always nice to get a visitor, even if this one drifts in through an open window as a leaf falling from a tree, that turns into her.

"What do you think, of this Gil-Galad?" he asks her. "Is he really good enough for Elrond?"

Elwing floats around in the air all akimbo, as if there is nothing keeping her to earth at all.

"Elrond is all he thought of, when he got here," she tells him. "I used to stay near him, in secret, all the time and watch his mind think of him. I mean I didn't love seeing the whole naked stuff, but the rest of it was fun to watch."

Earendil chokes on air. It's difficult to imagine Elrond like that. He's so … refined. Dignified. Actually, so is Gil-Galad, to be honest. Elrond acts very elven, all tranquil, unflappable. When they first met in real life, he examined them, looking at them like they were bugs he was idly glancing at.

"Elrond is very pleased with him, I think," Elwing continues, floating slowly upside down and then rightside again, seemingly naturally. "I think he likes that he doesn't put anything above him, like the rest of us did. Instead he put him first. He built him this metropolis. He took no others before him. He waited for him. None of us have ever put him first."

Earendil understands that the 'us' includes Maglor.

"Elves think good things of the spear one, so that seems good," she adds. "They like that he's big and strong, his spear, his life before. They like him liking Elrond. But the only thing that really matters is that he's nice to Elrond. Don't worry, I watch them all the time, and he is nice to him."

"That's good," he agrees.

It may be weird, wrong, or questionable, but he likes that Elwing can see further, can watch people all the time. She's like a literal army of scouts, in one person.

"I used to watch the music one all the time; I was afraid," Elwing tells him. "But all he thought about was killing himself. He didn't even think about hurting me once. And I liked when he thought about music, but only light music. I can't watch him with his big elf, though, they both look too vulnerable when they touch each other."

How sad, he thinks.

He has long known that Glorfindel has black moods here in Aman, and needs to rest at times. Elrond told him that in confidence, explaining that sometimes he couldn't let Earendil come over due to this, and at those times they all must speak to Glorfindel gently, as they don't want to trigger this in him. In those instances, Maglor plays for him until he feels better.

A few weeks later Gil-Galad invites him to come and have lunch with him, so he goes.

He mostly talks, and Earendil listens; he likes that, as he isn't great at socializing after a lifetime of being alone, and being with Elwing, who sees the expressions of his soul and doesn't require him to speak if he doesn't want to put forth the effort of it.

It's weird to think of Gil-Galad being his son's lover. Neither of them seem very emotional. Elrond seems more like a 'real', typical elf than Earendil does, he thinks.

They are both very sedate, very calm all the time; Gil-Galad is very strong, like Glorfindel looks.

Chapter Text

It's nice to see the hustle and bustle of new Rivendell. He feels like he'll never get over the silence and emptiness of Tuna and Tirion as he first came upon it, on his mission, and was greatly afeared.

But here there are always people, and industry, and even all the arts flourishing. Things happen day and night, but only in certain areas, so there is peace and silence as well, if you want it.

His old sailing hands never talked to him after the way to Aman was closed forevermore – some were of mannish blood and were dead, others were elves that looked upon him as mighty, and it was so discomfiting. As if they hadn't sailed with him, seen his errors, his childish mistakes as he grew up, as Cirdan taught him to sail.

As much as he and Elwing have been lost to their own griefs, for much of time, she did choose to go with him into Aman. She loved him. Sometimes he just thinks about it. He should have told her then, no. Be safe.

But he was so weak at heart, he could not bring himself to.

He has never done something as great for her. She had yelled at him from the ship as he walked onto the land, trepidatious, and he'd turned around. "Don't leave me!" she'd called, upset.

And she had run after him, jumping out onto the shore. He had run back and told her, "Get back, I'll say you fell. Don't risk it!"

But she wouldn't let go of him, and when a maia-like being wants to do what it wants, you are not going to win. That is obvious, so he paused.

"I don't care. They can kill me too. Don't leave me again! I'm coming too!" she had yelled into his ear, and turned into a ring of mist around him that wouldn't leave, and he had subsided. What else could he do, if he couldn't dissuade her? If anything, he couldn't think of it.

Of course, millennia later he reads the stylized, poetic rendition of all this in elven history books, and it makes him feel a lot of things. Reading about himself and Elwing in the historical record makes him amused, upset, sad, depressed; it depends. The wording is ... a choice.

He goes with Gil-Galad and Elrond to the shore sometimes, to see Cirdan, his old teacher. He's proud to think he isn't jealous anymore. As much.

It's just that his sailing is all he has, it was his one thing he could do with Elrond and Gil-Galad, in his capacity as Elrond's lover. Cirdan doesn't have any of his problems.

Elrond continues to have literally zero interest in sailing, which makes Cirdan laugh for some reason. … It doesn't make Earendil laugh. It's uncomfortable. The only saving grace is that Elrond isn't some famous harpist.

That would be crushing. He isn't sure who to thank on that. He's also thankful for the fact that during the War of Wrath he didn't see Elrond, actually. He can't even imagine how rightfully vicious he would have been to him then … or Elros.

He wouldn't have been able to live through it.

Elrond still seems to dispassionately engage with him, but at least he does, he consoles himself. After Maglor's family returns when the world is remade, he's busy all the time helping his older brother. So there's a lot of time that Earendil spends with Elrond … alone.

They have nothing in common. It's easier when there are other people there, but Glorfindel comes and goes as he pleases, Gil-Galad is often busy with ruling the town, and Erestor has no interest in being sociable to anybody [Elrond has told him].

Elwing only goes to see Elrond if he and his friends are mentioning her or saying they want to speak to her, or if she feels good about her ability to control her powers. Elrond seems to prefer talking to them one at a time.

One afternoon, Elrond sends a page to him, to see if he wants to have tea, and he says yes and walks down to where Elrond's rooms are in the more populated area of the town. Elrond lives in the middle of things; Earendil and Elwing have more private, separate houses.

Elrond opens the door when he knocks, and gestures for him to sit. The table is already set; no one else is there. He almost misses the old days when Glorfindel and Maglor were almost always there, and Fingon too, and even Finrod would come by and bother Maglor to play harps with him.

"How are you doing, father?" Elrond asks him.

Elrond used to call him Lord Earendil, to his face, even. That had been rough to hear and not react to. But now he doesn't, and he even calls Elwing mother – when he does she later shows Earendil the moment of it with her magic afterwards as if he's there [he wasn't there] because she's excited.

"Well, I suppose," he says.

Elrond never really consumes a lot at meals, but he assumes that's because he's like Elwing, or something. Earendil actually eats.

"My patient with a broken arm is healing, so I am pleased," Elrond relates. Earendil knows nothing about healing. It seems very complex, what with all the books, elixirs, and all the rest of it. "Has mother ever healed people?"

Earendil shakes his head while eating some tiny, delicate croquembouche pastries. And then some tiny fruit custard tarts. The food at Elrond's table is always incredible, and also visually amazing. Like tiny pieces of art, which makes it weird to eat, except for that it tastes so good.

"I don't think so," he says slowly. "I can ask her. I mean, I assume that requires a lot of reading and apprenticing to do."

"Oh, yes," Elrond agrees. "The basic books are really just only – "

He then talks about books for a literal hour. Earendil has some sweet martabak, and lussekatter, and listens. Elrond is so much more educated than he is, it's hard to really understand everything he says; like when Maglor talks about music, it's like his expertise is so great that it's no longer for normal people to hear anymore.

"This must be very boring," Elrond suddenly says to him, as he blinks and tries to pretend he absorbed anything. He smiles at him. "Maglor always said I study too much, and Elros too little."

"Yes?" he says. Elrond rarely ever speaks of Elros, unless it's in the formal, emotionally removed way.

"He used to promise me he'd let me question another expert artisan for hours if I'd play outside and practice my swordwork. And he said the opposite for Elros, obviously," Elrond explains, calmly. "How bitter I am about him. I truly despise him for leaving. I suppose I'm almost jealous, but not really. I love so much about this world."

Earendil stills in surprise. He never talks like this.

"I wish he were here," he finally responds, unsure what to say. He can't say 'I wish he'd stayed', because he himself left them all. So that's too hypocritical.

"I don't," Elrond says bluntly, shocking him into silence. "I hate him. He wanted to win, I think, and never let anyone else leave him again – of course we would have to leave Maglor soon enough, we understood. But for him to win at the price of leaving me – that is an insult. I would never do that to anyone. He shouldn't have either. He knew better."

"Maybe he was just tired," Earendil offers, sounding timid even to his own ears. How often has he felt wrung out by being alive endlessly? It's hard to live eternally. Very hard.

Elrond laughs derisively, and he tries not to flinch. "No, I know that's not true. I knew his thoughts, then. He didn't care at all what happened to me. All he cared about was himself."

Earendil falls silent.

"I guess I must keep up the illusion that you lost something worthwhile," he says, mild in temperment again.

"I wish you would punish me," Earendil blurts out.

Elrond gives him a confused look. Sometimes he looks normal, not like an unmoving elf person.

"What?" he says, astonished.

"I know I have wronged you very much," Earendil tells him. "And you can never forgive me. Surely you should just mete out some retribution."

Elrond studies him for a little while. "I think you suffer enough," he says finally. "That was a long time ago. Are we not friends, now?"

"How can we be?" Earendil says, upset, and finds himself ringing his hands. "I ruined your life. My replacement literally lives here. I'm a failure, everyone knows it."

Elrond looks taken aback, when he glances up and sees him.

"Maglor wasn't your replacement," he argues. "He was Elwing's replacement. And you are my friend. I know my life has been disordered, but think of all the good I have been able to help with. If I had simply lived in Sirion forever, I would have never become as learned as I am. I got to study with the greatest elves of their fields, when I lived with Maglor. Of course our sundering, of you and I, was terrible, but there was much good in my life."

"There hasn't been any in mine," Earendil finds himself saying.

Then he realizes Elrond has his hand on his shoulder, and is sitting next to him, all of a sudden.

"This can be the good part," Elrond insists. "I am happy to have finally known you and mother. And all the other elves, like Feanor's brothers. Even Thingol, despite his … despite himself. And surely you have had a few good moments recently."

He nods.

"With Elwing," Earendil tells him. "It's nice to not have to be out with elves, just at home. She never keeps up the pretense; I couldn't if I tried. I think my only happy moments were playing with her when I was a little boy, and she turned into different animals, and I chased her around as she laughed."

"How sweet," Elrond says, and then he thinks he should have said something else.

"But, also, with you children, when I saw you, before," he hastens to add. He'd been scared to touch them too much, they had looked so utterly fragile. Even Elwing had mostly just touched them with her light magic, so as not to hurt them with her overly powerful hands. "Oh. And now, getting to see you when you got older."

Elrond looks amused at his mistake in not listing him first.

"I have been lucky, to have so many people who are special to me," he tells Earendil seriously. "You and mother, and Gil-Galad, and Glorfindel, and Maglor. And many others that take pains to try to have a relationship with me."

"We should switch roles," Earendil realizes quietly. "I'm far better at being a child. You're a wise lord, now."

Elrond smiles. "I am still a child. They all here call me 'little Elrond', even now. Feanor gives me cookies as if I am a boy once more. But they are good cookies, really," he admits. "Come, try them."

He takes his hand and pulls him into another room. There are boxes all over it, and goods piled up everywhere. Indeed, many of the highest living elves send Elrond gifts: of jewels, plants, books, tokens, other things.

Elrond takes out a little tin box and opens it in front of him. "Glorfindel calls these 'melting flowers'," he tells him. The sweets do kind of look like that. His son hands him one and they both try them together.

While they both comment on the good taste, Elrond's description is that of a gourmet's – Earendil lived on his ship for so long that he got used to just hardtack, and that type of thing. Only since he saw Elrond more has he really been able to try more refined food [once more, after his childhood in Gondolin] and get to enjoy it.

"Did Maglor give you these, too?" he asks, a little hesitant.

It's not that the two of them don't tell him things, or won't, or something, on this topic, it's that the whole thing seems so truly magical – almost divinely ordained, in a sense. That it should be Maglor who found Elrond and Elros, the most gentle of the Feanoreans. And that Elrond later found him, and was able to heal him despite his dead, skeletal appearance, and the loss of his natural elven soul's radiance, or glow – and got him a pardon successfully even, and convinced him to come over here.

"Oh no," Elrond tells him, taking another one and wrapping it in a napkin. "We must reserve one for Glorfindel, otherwise he'll feel slighted. Maglor had us try all different food; mostly what he thought your two cities ate. And then he had us also eat his people's food, and to try other group's as well, as practice in eating other people's cuisine, and how to react. Elros used to try to touch his tongue to foods, to investigate before trying them, and Maglor would warble on that he was someday going to be called 'The waggly tongue king' in the history books. Did you have sweets like this when you were a boy?"

"Yes, but honestly I don't want to eat our style of food again," Earendil admits to him. "Does Glorfindel have it made for him here?"

Elrond shakes his head. "No, he doesn't. He even prefers not to speak of his past, at least it seems so to me. Do you talk together that way? Or is that too private, for both of you share that place."

"No," Earendil tells him, taking another cookie. "I don't even like to think of it. It seems like a terrible dream."

Does Elrond think that way of Sirion, he wonders, suddenly. He can't ask that.

"At least we are all awake together now," Elrond commiserates. "I'd say bring one of these to mother for me, but she never seems to enjoy the food of the elves." And yet, he packs one up in a little serviette.

"No," Earendil agrees. "Not really. But I think she would like it, just being something from you."

Elrond looks pleased. Earendil puts his hand out slowly, and Elrond gives him it.

When he gets back to his house some time afterwards, Elwing is already there, and stops hovering like a giant bubble in the air [but he knows it is her, and not some real bubble, he has some feeling about it], and demands, "I want it, the food," to him as soon as he comes in and shuts the door behind him.

She tries not to use magic in front of regular elves, so they both do things like wait until all doors are shut to talk to each other [he can always recognize her in her 'other' forms, somehow.]

He takes it out of his pocket, and gives it to her, and she unwraps it and looks at it intensely.

Elwing doesn't eat it. She sets it on a pedestal that already has a statue on it, sends the statue somewhere else magically, and leaves it on the plinth for now. [They go over to each other house's all the time.]

Weeks later he realizes she somehow made it eternal, un-degradeable, even though it's a foodstuff, and then put it in her own house under glass for safekeeping. He knows the feeling.

Getting something from Elrond is very special. It probably isn't for everyone else, but the two of them aren't anyone else. They're his [kind of] estranged parents.

Elrond sends them holiday appropriate food gifts every year, carried over by the pages, but that doesn't feel the same as this. That feels like a formal, rote, expected, 'doing your duty' situation. This is him being nice deliberately.

Sometimes Elrond leaves his town and goes to see other famous people [some of them related to him.] Glorfindel usually goes with him; Maglor often stays home, unless he's on a music tour for some reason.

Before, Earendil tried to go see Maglor at these times and sometimes he even played for him [lucky], but now Maglor's always over at his brother's house with Fingon. Not that he begrudges either of them, really – Fingon is so universally loved that even Feanor himself is said to not mind his very mistake filled and terrible [due to lack of practice] attempts at not sa-si-ing in Quenya.

And he cannot imagine what Maedhros lived through.

To be honest, he'd thought of it a lot before he knew that the boys hadn't been murdered or left to be tortured in Sirion. It's not like anything was beneath Morgoth, and the helpless heirs of Gondolin and Sirion would have been a great thing to bargain with, to the elves.

He'd thought of what might happen to them, because there was no Fingon for them, to save them.

Except of course there was.

Maglor did save them, before anything even happened. Anyway, he's very sensitive to Maedhros' suffering because of that, in a way he doesn't think elves would understand. Of course the guy did bad things, but to be honest, Earendil has always resented Elwing's family mightily in this vein – and he resents his own grandfather Turgon, too.

Also, Aredhel. Her mistakes led to the ruination of his life. Thankfully mother and father were able to save themselves [and him too!] and also then Glorfindel saved them.

He still hasn't met Turgon and Fingon's sister. He's too filled with anger … not that he talks to Turgon much either. Part of him cares about his grandfather, and part of him wants to slap his face over and over while screaming.

But the elves are too pacific and silent for that type of thing, and he doesn't want anyone to say he's 'got different blood' as an explanation for his anger or any potential smacking.

He and Elwing talk often about how hard it is to be seen as these 'other' beings that are looked at curiously – how elven are they in behavior and look? Will they act differently? They know all the elves think [and say] these things.

He asks Elrond what he thinks about it – do people do that to him too? – one day at tea with him and Maglor, and then regrets it instantly. Because Elrond can now say, 'yes you fool, it's almost as if you shouldn't have burdened a child like this and then left them to die, and then oh, your wife did too. But you're both idiots, so … I didn't really expect anything else.'

"Hmm," Maglor responds, as Elrond smiles, and Earendil waits, feeling sick.

Both reactions he didn't expect. He knows that Maglor will hurt him [with words, probably, or even soul-wise with his musical power, instead of first physically] if he hurts Elrond. Even Glorfindel has yelled at him and Elwing, many times, when Elrond is there and he is too, and they say something Glorfindel thinks is: wrong, rude, inappropriate, unacceptable, critical, hypocritical – it's a long list. He and Elwing have argued before in front of Elrond and Earendil, until Elrond drags Glorfindel away.

But Elrond never seems to get involved, or disagree with Glorfindel, or tell him to stop. So he must be pro what he's saying. These are hard lessons to have to learn.

He and Elwing [he knows] don't resent having Glorfindel there fighting them. Honestly, it's helpful to have him there, as otherwise Elrond doesn't react to them at all, ever. It seems like they could say anything, and he'd just say 'oh', dispassionately.

"People do that to you, right?" Elrond asks Maglor, holding his teacup, to Earendil's surprise.

"Yes," Maglor says, as he works on a music score. He does that a lot, all the time. It seems like he can still do it easily no matter if he's talking or anything else. "Everyone likes to see a royal, and a sicky, evil, magical disgraced, music-famous one is even better for gossip."

Elrond smiles, and so does Maglor.

Elrond turns back to Earendil. "People do look at me like that. But not as much as you'd think. My people here know me well, from my youth. So it's nothing new to them; I'm positively boring, in that way. And other elves, from your and mother's cities, are too busy either kneeling or trying to convince me to rule new Gondolin or new Doriath … despite them already having rulers. Other elves definitely look very curious, but seem too shy to say anything untoward. Then again, I think most elves are a bit cowed by Glorfindel leaning over my shoulder, looking at them the whole time, and suggesting changes to their raiment."

Maglor almost giggles, but stops. That is indeed a funny image, he thinks.

"As a child, I don't remember anyone even looking at me when I was with Maglor; other than before that with the Sirion people, but I will partially excuse them because they were all traumatized," Elrond continues, and looks to Maglor to confirm, seemingly. Earenedil looks at him too, wondering.

"No, I didn't let anyone look at you. I told them we all had to pretend floating up around in the air randomly was perfectly normal, same for any other magical whatever-it-is, because god forbid you two get a complex about magic or your own blood. Melian would hunt me down right then as a special mission, despite her grief departure, I was sure," Maglor says, amused.

Elrond laughs.

They keep talking about it, and Earendil listens.

So it is different; people look at Earendil and Elwing not like how Elrond describes, or even like they do at Maglor. [For Maglor it's probably more like 'is he scary up close?' or 'ooo will he play???????? I hope so!']

Sometimes he drifts out of conversations, as they go on. He does try to listen, but his own thoughts can get too loud, inside his head.

To think they [everyone involved each time, including him partially-ish in Sirion, he knows; in his defense it was Elwing's alone] kept that stone, knowing it was wrong to do so. Knowing that having it ruined everyone's life – Luthien's, Thingol's, and on and on. They were all greedy, evil.

Even Luthien should have presented Maedhros with any and all silmarils she could get her hands on. She would have been hailed as a great hero, as reuniting all elves – on top of her amazingness already.

But even she was a wicked thief in the end, he thinks.

On his ship he was alone with the stone of course, and tried to use it alternatively as a headlamp for himself when it was dark, or as a kind of general lamp tied to the mast, so he could see the deck better, when it was dark.

Having it near him was bitter indeed for a long time, when he thought of how it was the cause of his little babies' deaths. But when he learned they lived, and were well, even, he felt a little less rage upon thinking about it or looking at it.

It was okay looking. Like some type of Ainur-created object, really. But he never enjoyed seeing it.

Was it not a beacon of death?

And also of his own failures …

It's almost funny to think of it as being such a fancy, pretty little trinket that Thingol ruined everyone's lives over it. Elwing certainly would re-kill Thingol for it, he knows. She likes to talk about her fantasies of torturing him to death, and then waiting until he's out of Mandos to do it all again. [So far she hasn't gone near him, other than to scream at him that he should kill himself, she's told him.]

After Elrond came to Aman, he asked him after a while if he wanted to see the silmaril up close, and Elrond had looked disgusted immediately. He was silent for a long while, looking apoplectic, and finally just said ' … no'.

Of course the disgust could have mostly been for Earendil too – and probably was. But still, he liked that they share in a distain for the stone, on some level at least.

"Father?" Elrond says, breaking into his thoughts. "Do you want more tea?"

He nods.

Elrond pours it; Earendil knows this is unusual from his childhood. The Noldor love servants, and lots of them, all the time. But in new Rivendell, they don't attend to the royals [like Elrond] like that, or to Maglor [he's a prince, and was the high king after his brother was put into torment]. Or anybody, really, except for Gil-Galad sometimes.

In some ways, his son seems extremely like what he knows of Elwing's people's culture, but in others, he is hardcore Noldor. He often is reading [in the purpose of healing] or working on healing projects, or helping patients.

A servant should be pouring the tea, he remembers that from Gondolin; and in Sirion they [random elves, since most nobles and servants had already died in both previous cities] did that too, for him and Elwing.

Elwing spends more time now with Elrond, one on one. He's happy for her. She takes Elrond to different places at times, or shows him things, and afterwards she comes to see Earendil and tells him everything, in depth, and what she thought Elrond seemed like, and if he was nice to her.

He feels the same way. It's really almost 'scary' to talk to Elrond, due to knowing how much he could hurt them if he wanted to. No one else could affect either of them. Even Earendil's own parents could tell him they look down on him, and it would be nothing compared to Elrond's potential censure.

Earendil feels sure though that Maglor wouldn't be nice to him if Elrond really did look at him with disgust. Nor Glorfindel, even. Both of them would do whatever Elrond was already agreeing with, he thinks, so them being nice must mean something in this vein.

A page comes for Elrond; after he leaves, Elrond rolls his eyes and tells them both, "Finarfin has come here."

Earendil tries to hide his wince; he hates having to talk to the high blood elves. Oh god. It's the worst thing to have to do.

He looks at Earendil. "Go to your house, the back way, we'll show you. Someone should be having fun at least."

Elrond goes to speak to the king, and Maglor calls a page to him, and tells them to show Earendil the back way to his house, so he doesn't have to walk through the main square where he'll be seen potentially by other elves.

"You can come," Earendil tells him, and Maglor looks surprised.

"I was going to go tell Finarfin I would play for him; he'll forget you're even here. Unless my music is poor today," Maglor explains.

Oh. "Thank you," he says, and Maglor shrugs it off like it's nothing. He's like that.

Earendil follows the page out. He can't imagine a day where Maglor's music wasn't all consuming and mind blowing. It seems impossible.

Indeed, Finarfin leaves without trying to see him, which is such a boon. It's not that he's a bad elf, it's that all the higher elves are so, so, so tedious, uncomfortable. They want to talk to him if he's around, and it's so awkward.

Some talk politics; he knows nothing about that, they seem perennially shocked to re-learn this. Others want to talk Elrond and Maglor; he pretends he doesn't know anything about them, not knowing what they'd want him to say. It's not like he can jeopardize his tie with them when he only has like three to four friends, and they all live in new Rivendell.

Many praise him each visit, which got old the literal first time. Feanor himself doesn't do that, though, when he meets him. He says he can come over, and acts like he's a nobody.

Elwing likes Feanor too, and calls him the fire elf. It seems like a good moniker, he thinks, from the forges he's always in to his death before to his famous red symbolism on everything. He is very intense, zealous about working on jewels and invention stuff.

Eventually he works with Elwing on things she wants, which is nice of him. Elwing tells him one night at her house together, "He's much closer to us than to the elves, in 'being'. He isn't very elf-y at all."

"Feanor's been nice to me," Earendil tells her.

They both often talk in dreams all night, while they sleep.

Elwing likes to sleep, but really never has to; Earendil feels so good after it that he does it all the time. He can go without it technically but doesn't want to.

[He doesn't know what Elrond does, he feels like he can't ask.]

Physically, location-wise their bodies are sleeping in Elwing's bed in her house [actually it's a giant hammock they use together at times to sleep in – he's so used to sleeping in one on his ship that it can be weird still to sleep on a 'real' bed], but in the dreamscape they are currently inhabiting, they are in Gondolin.

They did this as children in Sirion too, the dream-talking together while sleeping. They 'are' in different places in the dreams randomly.

Elwing never shows him Doriath because she says she'll get too angry and might accidentally explode the house. And she doesn't want to ruin Elrond's present to her [the house and the stuff inside it], so she can't take the chance.

Before she didn't either, she didn't want to risk hurting any elves around them, back in Sirion.

Earendil sits on his childhood bed, in his childhood room in Gondolin, here in this dream, and knows his body looks like a glowing light instead of a person-shape. In dreams, that's what happens to him for some reason. Elwing's form in dreams keeps changing all the time, seemingly randomly.

But he knows it's her.

"The music one was worried we wouldn't get along," Elwing tells him, currently looking like a big orange starfish that's floating around in the air. He can feel her amusement the way sunshine hits your skin and you feel that warming feeling. "But we do. Very well! He does what I do with magic, just with the materials of the elves. And I like the lady too. She sends me letters, sometimes. I like those; they smell like good feelings."

[Elwing can sense objects in a way elves can only mildly do, Earendil is aware. She can see all from being near any item, almost 'into' the item's past. She can feel the emotions of the people who made it, what poured into the item; she can see who created what and why.

That's why she likes Elrond's presents, because they were given and made in love; for her [from Elrond, and from the artisans] and for Elrond of course too [by the artisans who made the things personally, so he could then give them to his mother]. Elwing doesn't care 'what' Elrond gives her, she cares about the miasma of feelings that resonate from the objects.]

For the letters, Elwing means those to her from the Lady Nerdanel, he knows. A queen consort by marriage, a famous sculptor; the best sculptor. Nerdanel is nice to him too, sending him things sometimes at his house. Before, she sent him letters, to the dock. Which was also something he appreciated, as no one was talking to him then, at all, almost ever.

She wrote him once and said she lost her kids too, just to the evil of pride and grief. And she had many regrets of her own. It had comforted him back then, to think that someone else could relate to his weird situation.

After Earendil had seen that Elrond had a statue of Elros, he'd told Elwing, who said she knew – that the Lady Nerdanel had created it as a gift for her – and that Nerdanel had looked into Maglor's mind to see Elros, that's why it looks accurate, Elwing assures him. It looks just like Elrond obviously, they're twins, but the manner, the mein, the bearing are different.

Some unplaceable thing about his coutenance is different.

"I'm happy Maglor can be at peace with his family," Earendil tells her as she floats around, "but it's hard, now that Feanor's back. I mean he sends Elrond amazing jewels all the time. The way I'd buy some sandwiches; like it's casual, despite how incredible it all is. How could I ever give Elrond anything? Or even Maglor? It'd seem so pathetic."

Elwing floats around, thinking. He can tell somehow, the feel is different when she is ruminating on something.

"It would have good auras though," she says. "And he can see them. So it would be worth it."

"What do you think he even would want?" Earendil asks her. "Not books, he has them all. I feel like it's approaching a hoarding situation, almost. Pretend I didn't say that, of course." Elwing turns into a big multi-grey-brown owl and hoots in agreement. "Clothes he already has, due to being a king. I don't know anything about whatever healing involves. It seems complicated. What else is there?"

"What about their toys?" Elwing tells him without speaking – or even mentally speaking, how elves do. It's like he just 'knows' what she's saying without any of that.

"The ones we gave them?" he asks, confused.

"Yes, I thought they were nice," Elwing says helpfully.

"But why would Elrond want some baby toys now? Isn't it just a reminder of what happened?" Earendil argues.

"They would have goodness radiating from them," she explains. "I can pull them from my memory into being once more. What if he liked it?"

Oh. That's true. What if he did like it? And of course Elros' toys would be there too, would that be good or bad?

"Well, I guess we could do it and just warn him first," Earendil suggests, and she agrees; her agreement feels like little pats of finger pads on the tops of his hands.

So they do it.

Elwing puts it all together in terms of 'magically creating/re-making things from the past', and he takes the box of it to Elrond. She doesn't want to be there when he gives it to him, saying that if Elrond is displeased that it will make her start asking him to forgive her, aggressively, and she doesn't want Elrond to think she's too emotional.

The maiar feel emotions and express things differently than elves, and Elwing is always concerned about that – just for Elrond, though. She doesn't want him to have a worse opinion of her than she's said she assumes he must already have.

Chapter Text

Elrond looks very shocked by his 'gift'. "They're what you had when you were little. From me. It's from Elwing too," he hastens to add. "Well, unless you don't like it. Then it's just from me."

His son starts laughing, looking at the [his and Elros', a recreation of them] soft baby toys in the big box Earendil brought him.

" … Thank you," he says, amused, and smiles.

Earendil doesn't ask him if he remembers the items. He was surely too young.

"There's going to be a ballet we're all going to, if you want to come today," Elrond tells him, all a propos.

"Oh, did Maglor do a special song for it or something?" he asks.

Even Earendil knows that Elrond publicly does not go to the concerts of Maglor's music, not wanting to seem political; though he can of course listen from far away with a palantir type object if he does want to hear it. Or hear the elf in question play for him himself. Gil-Galad listens to literally every piece, dance, opera and performance of Maglor's music, he's heard; but then, so does everyone else who can get in.

"No, that's the point," Elrond explains. "It's other elves' music. I want to be sure to support them."

"Oh okay, I'll come," Earendil says, and they all go over; other elves too.

He knows what it's like to live with someone who has you beat, forever. [Maglor and even Cirdan, too, for Earendil personally.]

He can only imagine what it's like to be a musician and then have frickin Maglor show up, of all people, to live there. His existence makes them all not just no longer needed practically but also almost worthless.

They listen to the music, and Earendil unfortunately has to sit in a 'good' seat by Elrond because he came with him; in some cases Elrond makes his presence known, as a sign of his 'royal' favor.

After they play their 'okay' music, Elrond goes and tells them that it was lovely. That's an overstatement. The dancing was nice, though.

Maglor never goes to any concerts, whether of his own music or others, he told him when he asked once. And he never performs himself to a crowd, unless it's some special situation – like for Doriath's representatives, or when he plays all over to symbolically show his alliegance to Finarfin and Fingolfin's rule; to show that he cleaves to his own father Feanor no more, really. This has a weird symbolism to the rest of the elves, because all know that many Feanoreans would follow Maglor in this [or Maedhros, who similarly publically signals the same thing, just in other ways than music performances.]

[Earendil feels like as soon as those two kings [Finarfin definitely is in charge, even he knows, not Finwe despite him being alive, and Fingolfin assists Finarfin] realized that's the only way they could get Maglor to play out anywhere for the people, they immediately started planning to continue to have 'united/unified/peace' events in this vein, just for that side outcome.]

The other high elves try to talk to Earendil since he's in public at an event, but Elrond bails him out, saying he needs to borrow Earendil right now. As one can imagine, no one could dare contest that – twiceover. He follows Elrond back to his rooms. Maglor is there, of course, writing music like always.

Elrond's rooms are fancy, but not as ornate as a typical Noldor king's. By Gondolin standards, it's pretty blah. Gil-Galad's suite across the way on the other side of the town is much more what one would expect. It's extremely opulent.

In contrast, Elrond's rooms are positively plain – but then, they are not his formal receiving rooms, he knows, these are private ones. Earendil knows that because Elrond first met him in some of those types of rooms.

"Do you ever tire of writing?" Earendil asks Maglor, as Elrond calls for tea. Maglor often seems to do nothing else.

He glances up at him.

"Hm. I guess not," he replies. "Even if I didn't write it down, I'd still be thinking of music. I just always seem to think of it."

"I can't imagine having such a passion," Earendil admits, taking a seat. Elrond sits at his little desk [a letter writing small one, with a small flat piece that comes down to write on and reveal the small cupboards in it,] like he always does.

"Well, what have you tried?" Elrond asks him.

Not much, he thinks. Nobody mentions sailing, which he suddenly realizes is weird. But he doesn't bring it up. Elrond seems to not like that he was sailing in the sky, and had been very pleased when he said he told the Valar he wasn't going to anymore. He isn't quite sure what his hatred of it is, but at least he was pleased with him for it.

"Maybe you should go around and try different things and see," he continues.

Earendil shrugs. "I don't know if being so into some type of work is really 'me'," he admits.

Sailing has lots of periods of nothing, really, he thinks to himself.

"Well, you're an adventurer, like Finno," Maglor proposes. "That's an interest. Think of all the monsters you two have taken on."

"They started to try to kill me, most of the time," Earendil explains.

To be honest, initially he'd just had to get out. Sirion was so suffocating, except for Elwing [and the children]. Elves everywhere, wanting him to be in charge and all this, none of which he felt he could do, or knew about. Thank god for the excuse of his 'mission'. Otherwise people would really look at him with disdain.

He hated not being outside, not being free. Mother and father escaped from all that; they left him there in Sirion. At least Elwing had been there, and had empathized with him.

"You don't have to have heroic aspirations to be heroic," Elrond says. A page comes in with tea, and they all have some. Elrond cajoles Maglor to, so he does.

Maglor still has some problem where he doesn't always want food or drink, which Earendil was lead to believe elves needed. Glorfindel especially always is on him to have something, but once in a while he's out in the painting halls, working on stuff, like right now.

Maglor has warned Earendil to not look at the pieces Glorfindel's created, as 'you'd probably destroy something that looks so creepy on sight, like some type of hero-reflex'. So while he wonders what it looks like, he's a bit hesitant now to see it. Because Maglor was not joking when he said it.

He looks at Elrond and pauses. No, he can't ask that, he thinks.

But Elrond notices, it's too late. "Can I show you something in Glorfindel's closet for a moment?" he asks him. "I want to know what you think."

"Don't get lost," Maglor warns them as they leave.

Earendil knows that's also a true statement; he's been in his closets before. It's kind of wild in terms of how you really could keep wandering around forever.

After they go in a ways, Elrond asks him, "What did you want to say?"

Earendil tries not to shudder a little. Fighting a horrible beast is much easier than this. "Do you know about how I killed a dragon?" he asks, worried.

"During the War of Wrath?" Elrond asks calmly.

"Yes," he forces himself to say.

"What about it?" Elrond says.

He can't do it. He can't say it. He deliberately didn't try to see him when he was close to Middle Earth, then. He had been too utterly afraid of his children's hatred.

"Were you upset you couldn't come see us then, due to the Valar's rules?" Elrond asks him gently. He nods.

It's a lie, but he'll take any out right now. The truth is he didn't even think about the Valar's rules then – even if they killed him for breaking them, why would he have cared at that point? He'd lost everything.

"By that point we knew that," Elrond explains. "Everyone congratulated us on your great feats."

He feels terrible. The two boys must have been furious to hear that.

"I am lucky to have you back now," Elrond continues. "And Maglor and his brother back. And Gil-Galad. I was very embarassed when I realized you could really hear me pray to you, before. I must have sounded like a fool, many times. I have made many mistakes."

"Not real ones," Earendil tells him, sitting down on a random ottoman of Glorfindel's that looks suspiciously like it's made of solid gold with a cushion on top.

"You guys are in here?" Glorfindel calls, and finds them, all of a sudden, cheerfully. "I can't believe you're enjoying fashion without me. Tell me everything."

"It's not about that," Earendil says honestly, but Glorfindel squints at him.

"Sure," he says, clearly disbelieving it.

"I was trying to pick something out for Maglor, for our meeting next week with Fingolfin," Elrond says, blatantly lying.

"I have so many ideas," Glorfindel enthuses, and starts talking.

Maglor is a sort of representative of the Feanoreans, even though the real Feanor himself is back. He often talks to Fingolfin and Finarfin, or plays for Olwe, or Melian. Elrond goes with him if he's not just talking to a literal step-relative of his [Maglor's].

Eventually, he successfully begs off and goes home to his house. Elwing is not there. At times she is busy with her mother, or her brothers – they were saved by the Valar, in their mercy. After the remaking, the two children appeared apparently, and Elwing goes and plays with them often. He is happy for Nimloth.

Earendil can't be near the two of them; he can't bear to see twins, much less ones that look quite a bit like his own neglected children.

At times he goes and stays on his ship in the marina, just because he's at loose ends. It feels weird now, though, after living in new Rivendell. It's so quiet, except for the noise of the dock, or other sailers.

He goes back to his house in new Rivendell after a day or two, feeling lonely. Even if he doesn't always talk to people there, he can at least see them all over, constantly, doing whatever it is they do.

The town has all different industries, separated by area. There are flower gardens [to be cut for vases indoors], fruit and vegetable gardens, herb gardens and then actual ornamental gardens of different types, picturesque [the style, that is, specifically imitating nature, often asymmetrical] and also gardenesque [focusing on how lovely each plant is].

There are paper making areas, book copyists, scribe areas, bookbinding, pen making and ink making too. The wax making area for all the wax seals the elves use on their letters. [Idril had one made for Earendil as a boy, how ironic that it had a star for multiple reasons; Elwing's people made her some to choose from but she eventually just went with a white bird on white, which apparently is not very elven – she's not just an elf, so it shouldn't be, he thinks.]

He has never seen Elrond's seal, since he puts his letters to him into larger envelopes that are sealed 'by the order of King Gil-Galad', which means it's confidential. At this point Elrond's seal is probably a Feanorean star, let's be honest, he thinks. Maglor's is just a harp, he knows; he used that back when Earendil kept sending him letters when he lived on his ship still.

He sees furniture building areas as well, and the ceramicists and metal workers who make the plates, forks, bowls and different beverage glasses for everyone.

The arts have their own area, like painting, sculpture, textile art, or stained glass. The clothes makers have a huge area of their own – they have to have looms and weavers, special animals to take the wool from, spinning wheels, and of course dying cloth is a whole other thing. Also, lace makers.

Earendil often wanders around new Rivendell just to see what's there. Elves offer to show him things, and sometimes he says sure just to be polite. So he's seen where Elrond's people cut fabric for clothes, sew it, embroider it. And the shoemakers, the hat makers, glove makers. He's seen the jewelry workers and the forge workers.

His favorite area is obviously the kitchens because they let him try food. The bakers have their own space, closer to the flour-grinding mill.

The Feanoreans are pretty nice now, it turns out, up close. At first when he came to Elrond's town he tried to hide more, and make sure people didn't see him. But they are friendly. They let him walk through their workrooms, and show him what's going on, and let him watch, if he wants.

He has seen the spice rooms [where all the herbs are stored whole, or dried, or cut into small pieces, or ground into powder], the olive trees and olive oil pressing/making area, the alcohol area [there are some small vineyards and a few elves make beer and mead as well], the beehives and the animals raised for meat [and the fur and skin processors], and the fish ponds [for fishing to eat seafood, specifically, so they don't have to just import it from the shore.]

He has seen the fishmongers and the butchers, and also where the soap is made, along with hair products, cosmetics, lotions, candles and perfumes [he and Elwing like to smell them from time to time in their bottles, not wear them]. The leatherworks area is interesting, because they make a very many different type of things.

Earendil has not indeed seen the healing areas, as he doesn't want Elrond to think he was scruntizing his halls. [It's a very large complex, with areas to make medicines and also store them, and areas for people to have surgery or get medical attention, along with the tools that entails, and bandages, ointments, philters and potions.]

Also, every time anyone talks to him about it [like Elrond's healing masters, he trained people apparently] in general it's so complicated that he wants to ask them to stop their long monologues. There's way more tinctures and tonics and linaments than he's ever known of, now. Elrond has invented a lot of stuff, people tell him.

There are big areas for animals that lay eggs, because many elves really like eggs here, it seems. He's a fan.

Horses have their own large land areas, with special buildings for them and also people to take care of them if they need it [like their feet, et cetera.]

Sometimes he hangs out down by the artificial water areas for sea creatures on the outskirts of town. Few people go out there, unless they are checking the water [that it's good/okay for the animals, and doesn't need any supplementation of anything] or catching sea animals or fish to eat.

This aquaculture system is quite complex, Earendil's been told. Despite it being built 'into' the earth so that it looks like all real ponds, they are not real.

They were made by the elves of Elrond so that everyone could eat fresh scallops, all types of fish, crabs, octopus, squid, shrimp, clams, eel, caviar, lobster, and other sea life whenever they want … without having to trade with Olwe. For obvious reasons.

Earendil has had seafood at the shore many times. It's pretty good. Elrond's cooks have all different recipes, which he likes to try. Sometimes if they see him, his elves will show Earendil interesting things about what they do. Like rare spices, or rare illustration work in liquid gold, in the art wing.

Elrond's elves even let him go out with them into the great strong cellars in the earth they keep food and emergency materials in, and also let him follow them up into the peaks where they cut ice and bring it down so everyone can enjoy it [as ice in drinks, or for cold desserts, or what have you.]

One day he's out walking around the truffle areas [lots of trees here, and the ground is often wet because the elves seem to always be pouring water on it] when he comes across Finwe himself. Finwe is dressed only a little kingly. Earendil wonders if he minds that his kids [Fingolfin and Finarfin, at least; he doesn't know what Feanor thinks, but in public he's never protested it at all] won't let him actually be king again. Who knows.

He has seen Finwe before in new Rivendell; Maglor introduced him, as per his agreement, when Elrond asked him if he wished it. Finwe comes to see Elrond and Maglor and Gil-Galad, and also to go to the concerts of Maglor's music.

Also, Feanor's house has a lot of portraits of this guy. It can be fun to go see Feanor when he invites him; he's always working on crazy stuff [in the good way], and he shows him Elwing's inventions and his ideas for more of them. So he'd recognize Finwe either way.

Earendil tips his head to him a little tiny bit in acknowledgement, because elves seem to like that very much, their hierarchy, the regular ones. The 'different/eccentric/weird' ones don't seem to, like Fingon, Maglor, Maedhros, Glorfindel and Feanor.

He has no relationship with Finwe. Yes he is related to him, of course, through Turgon. But still. He's a random elf from a long time ago.

Finwe actually always seems quite interested to talk to everyone, and few elves seem pleased with him, Earendil has noticed. Maglor openly pays him little respect, and Elrond too is simply perfunctory with him, and that's it. Earendil is sure this means he doesn't care for him. But then again, what does he really know of Elrond, who certainly isn't his real self with Earendil in the first place.

"Lord Earendil," Finwe says. "How are you?"

Despite him being his great great grandfather, he addresses him like this. It must be an elf thing, Earendil thinks. He has often managed to avoid speaking with Finwe and the like, unfortunately there's no one here to fob him off on currently, not in this empty [of elves] field of trees.

"Good," he tells him.

"What are you doing out here?" Finwe asks him.

"Just walking," he says.

"All by yourself?" Finwe asks, looking concerned.

"I sailed by myself for a long time," he says, trying not to be annoyed visibly. Flying in the air does not require a crew like flying in the actual water does. "I like to look at the woods of Elrond's town."

Finwe nods, looking a little cowed.

"How do you like it here?" he asks Earendil.

"It is a very impressive town," he opines. "I prefer it very much to all the other elven areas I've seen."

It's true. Elrond must truly share in his blood, to desire to live in a half-Noldor, half-nature city. Everywhere you go in it, you step from fancy, complex buildings into pure nature of all kinds, all the time. It is not so extreme as say new Doriath or the new Greenwood of Thranduil here, or a truly Noldor-looking city like Tirion.

Instead it is a mix of it all, and Earendil thinks it superior in that way.

Off in the distance he can hear the archers practicing in their area; many elves still go off on hunts in Aman either for sport [to socialize while getting food] or solely to obtain food. Nearby there, he knows, is the area where people make bows and arrows by hand, fletchers and the string makers, and the like.

"You should come see Tirion," Finwe suggests.

Yeah, he's been there. He remembers.

"I have seen it," he says shortly.

He had feared the Valar back then, how they would slay him for breaking the rules by stepping foot on Aman, and Elwing too. He wouldn't've minded to die then, thinking the boys lost as well, but to think her dead had been too much for him.

Finwe regroups and says, "Feanor tells me you have seen his workrooms, at his estate."

"Yes," he agrees. "He is a prodigious worker."

"I have not met your wife," Finwe then adds, probably to try to meet her. Most elves haven't met her. Becuase she doesn't want to meet them.

Earendil wishes he were that intrepid, but he's not.

"She does not wish to speak with the elves," he explains, as Finwe looks discombobulated. "I will not dishonor her wishes."

"But there are only elves here," Finwe says, looking a bit lost.

"There are the ringbearers," Earendil lists out, piqued now. "The dwarven lands. And me … my wife too, and my son."

"You are all counted among the elves," Finwe tries to reason, but he shakes his head.

"Only by the Valar, with their power over us, then," he says, pushing back his bitterness. "We are not like you. If you'll excuse me, I have a prior engagement."

He walks back into the town, worrying at what he's going to pretend that fake 'appointment' actually is if anybody asks. He doesn't want to be caught out, or for Finwe to catch up with him, or send somebody after him.

Thankfully Fingon crosses his path, and he begs him with osanwe to pretend they have a prescheduled meeting.

"There you are, I was looking for you," Fingon immediately says out loud, swooping in and dragging Earendil after him to his house. "We wanted to talk to you privately."

This is perfect, as no elf [including Finwe too] would dare gainsay Fingon or Maedhros in public, each for different reasons. Even beyond his incredible reputation and bloodline and high kingship before, Fingon is known for being extremely opinionated.

He will openly get heated with elves of rank, and they know it. So they don't even attempt anything. People don't even dare mention the Feanoreans in general if he's in the vicinity, as they don't know what he'll say or do.

After they walk to Fingon and Maedhros' house, and go inside, Finno shuts the door behind them and calls out, "I'm back and I brought Elrond's father."

It's funny how some people refer to him like that, it's kind of nice to just be listed as a relative instead of the star of the show. Some people who know Elrond call him that instead of his name; like the ringbearers, and the dwarf of the ringbearers' group.

"Yes?" Maedhros says quietly, emerging from another room in time. He moves slowly, and talks slowly.

"Yes," Earendil answers to him, nodding hello. "I needed to be rescued, and people say that's his forte."

Fingon laughs. "Would you like us to entertain you?" Maedhros asks, seeming a bit smile-y, and Fingon scolds him.

"You mean I should play for him – I am no skilled harpist, as you well know," Fingon protests to him. He looks at Earendil then. "But if you do really wish it, I will try. As long as you are nice at the end. I make Maglor sign a contract in advance that he will only clap and smile, and say nothing truthful about my music."

Earendil can't imagine anyone being rude to Fingon for a lot of reasons. Especially not Maglor.

"I do not want you to," he tells Fingon. "I don't like the idea of people doing anything they don't want to do."

He looks surprised at that, and Maedhros looks pleased, in his faint way.

"We could play cards," Maedhros suggests, and they both agree. So he stays with them a while in their house. Fingon calls for light refreshments, which he brings in himself, into the house after pages drop them off on the front porch for him.

That is unusual, to not let servants do it, but then Fingon is a very famously eccentric elf. Even if you discount the whole step-cousin relationship thing.

"I'm doing so poorly," Fingon mourns, while they play another round, switching up the games all the time. Earendil only knows certain ones. "I should practically try to cheat."

"I cannot imagine you cheating successfully," Earendil tells him. "You seem too pure, somehow."

Maedhros laughs; it is a strange sound, very soft.

"I can too," Fingon immediately protests. "Ask Maglor. He'll tell you. I used to play with him and try to cheat all the time, and he would say 'if only the public knew'."

"The two of them like to amuse themselves," Maedhros explains, and Fingon tsks him.

"You're making us sound like children," Fingon scolds. "Earendil is my nephew's son! He's the child. We're older."

Maedhros looks at him. "What about in spirit?" he asks.

"Ugh," Fingon submits. He gets up and says, "I am getting some more cake, what would you both like?"

They both agree to more cake too. Elrond's people make loads of tiny, complicated cakes that are amazing, and even decorated super fancily. They bring whole trays of just cakes.

Fingon later packs up some extra cake for him to take with him to his house, and eventually he leaves them. He goes home; Elwing isn't there, so he goes to sleep alone. She's often at her own house, or out, busy.

There are places in new Rivendell he never goes to – the administrative records and taxes complex of Erestor, for example, or the treasury. He doesn't go to the shops area [unless Glorfindel drags him] because he doesn't usually buy items. He doesn't need anything most of the time anyway.

He doesn't go to Gil-Galad's area of the city unless he invites him to have tea with him or something. Or the mines, where elves go out and look for gemstones in the earth – apparently Gimli worked with Elrond's elves to set it all up, and goes and does things there all the time still.

Erestor is nice, he just is always busy. He's a great example of a really Noldor Noldorean elf, obsessed totally with his work.

The next day he recieves a letter from his parents, asking if he wants to go see them, so he does. He decides not to bother Elrond this time. Earendil tells a page he's going, and leaves a note for Elwing in his house [they have a system, so she knows where he is. Sometimes she gets upset about different things and goes to his house, once in a while.]

He takes a horse that Elrond's elves provide for him, and goes off. It doesn't take too long to get to his parent's house; it's all alone in nature, but it's close to Galadriel's forest, so her haidmaidens work with Idril's servants to ensure they are taken care of.

A servant lets him in and takes him to where his parents are. Of course the page says 'Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!' to him, as many elves still do.

That's not annoying at all. Oh wait …

This must be why Maglor still acts like a recluse, he thinks, as he goes deeper into the house. Because being a public figure is not fun. It gets old immediately. And the phrase he doesn't like either, since everyone likes to pretend he's a 'star' point blank, without pointing out where that light was coming from. And at what price it got there. ... Who it actually belongs too, and who kept it as thieves.

No one cares about how he and Elwing destroyed their children's lives. They care about their stupid star, their 'moral' victory. It angers him; he tries not to think of it. [Thankfully the Feanoreans in new Rivendell don't say that line to him, when they see him, they just say, 'Lord', and that's it.]

Of course he's luckier than Maglor, because everyone en masse ignores his and Elwing's sins, and pretends they are one dimensional cookie cutter heroes. And some elves still look at Maglor like he's the bad guy – as if he came out of a nowhere vacuum, as if Finwe and Feanor hadn't fucked it all up in the first place.

His parents are currently talking together, when he walks in. Tuor and Idril are very much openly 'in love', in a way that he doesn't see elves act like. They clearly are focused only on each other, all the time.

He's happy for them, he just would prefer to also have parents who were focused on him, too. But it's fine. And he's old now, he no longer wants attention. He has his own life.

They spend an awkward afternoon together. It's obvious none of them can think of what to talk about, since Earendil spent so long without them and then sailing alone that they don't really know each other.

So they all talk about the royals, the real original ones of Aman.

"I have heard that Fingolfin is going to do another unification holiday," his mother says, consuming some tea, while his father does the same. "And that the lady Nerdanel was allowing people to commission sculptures from her."

"Do you think we should ask her for one?" his father asks him.

Lady Nerdanel has publically sent Earendil gifts, that he accepted, so everyone knows about it, that they have a good relationship. In the world of the elves, the fastest moving thing is not a horse, or Fingon being a hero – it's gossip.

"I don't know, what would you want it to be of?" Earendil says.

"Whatever she wishes," his mother says.

"I wonder if she will do that, decide for others, or no," Earendil muses. "Esp – "

He cuts himself off.

Especially since Idril's mother Elenwë died on the grinding ice, leaving her motherless when extremely young.

Earendil knows that many elves blamed Feanor for their journey across the ice, like Turgon, he's learned. His mother has never spoken to him about the ice and her mother's death, and her almost death. He has never asked, since he realized how bad it all must have been.

… But why did Turgon and Elenwë bring a child that young across the ice? It seems like the height of stupidity and evil, really. Then again, Earendil doesn't really have a leg to stand on the opposite way, does he.

Elenwë is a nice person, though, when he's seen her. Yet she picked Turgon. Hm.

Why didn't they all try to build their own boats? Why go across the ice? It's not like there was a time limit on Morgoth or his servants being over in Middle Earth.

Really though Olwe saying he wouldn't even sell ships to Feanor was disgusting – no matter what the Valar said then. Morgoth just gets to do whatever he wants, and some elves won't assist even in the capacity of selling ships they could rebuild?

It's Morgoth!

It's ridiculous, but of course he never says anything to anybody, here inland or on the shore.

"Surely since they are gifts, she will choose a netural, nice subject for the sculptures," his mother says.

"We could ask for a swan," Tuor suggests, and Idril agrees. His father literally still loves swans, for obvious reasons.

As a gift, Elrond once gave Tuor a swan figurine made of ivory, carved, with gemstones as the beak and eyes, and explained it was his own design. He loved it.

Elrond also actually has given Earendil and Elwing things like that before; for Elwing a flower figurine made entirely of gems only, and Earendil a little sword of the same [like a big letter opener, only made of all jewels.] For Idril too he had another flower made, just not as big as Elwing's.

Elwing explained to him then that he'd once told Elrond he would get him a pony when he got older. When he was a baby ... as if that were relevant.

So to be frank, he's not sure how that connects to the sword thing. Elwing told him it does, but who knows. While she is far seeing and has great power, she is not some authority on elves, obviously.

While Earendil rebuilds his own ship every so often, as milennia pass, Tuor didn't care about his own, and let Eärrámë decay and be disposed of, in time. It was never rebuilt.

They discuss it at length, while Earendil listens. He tries to see his father once in a while because of how he has no family left but that of the elves, and Earendil. His mortal relatives had obviously died or been left behind before he even got to Gondolin in the first place, much less left for Aman.

Truly, though, Tuor seems happy here in Aman. He always has, when Earendil has seen him.

His parents seem to like to speak to Elrond, appearing to find him very interesting and mysterious. Elrond indulges their interest easily, but Earendil can tell it's not like he really has a tie with them of any kind. Idril has tried to talk to Elwing before, but she finds her incomprehensible every time.

[This is not Idril's fault, Earendil feels; elves are very specific types of people. Elwing too says that Idril is kind to her, but seems simply baffled at all times.]

Once in a while Elwing goes to see Idril, nowadays, just so it doesn't look like she is rejecting her or the people of Fingolfin and his heirs, or Noldor in general. It's a publicity thing, for the people of Aman. Before she goes she practices acting like an elf with Earendil, even though he keeps telling her that Idril already knows her, so she doesn't have to put forth all this effort.

It's easier to be at home in Elrond's town in terms of people to spend time with. It doesn't feel as awkward there.

Elrond's real family seems to be Maglor, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel – he doesn't know about Maedhros. [They do often speak to each other, but Earendil thinks that might be more due to medical concerns than anything else. Who knows.] Fingon seems to want in, too.

At home now in new Rivendell, he has Elwing and everyone else. The focus isn't really on him very much to be a source of words, except when he's alone with Elrond.

Chapter Text

Eventually some elves apparently get up the gumption to ask Maglor to teach them in person, which is thankfully intercepted by other elf people.

Earendil finds this out because when he's about to randomly walk over one morning to Elrond's rooms to see what everyone's doing, Elwing appears in his house as a big piece of hovering fog and tells him not to.

"Don't don't don't," she tells him.

"Why not?" he asks, worried.

When she has something to say, it's usually a 'pay attention' moment. In that sense she's all Melian and no Thingol.

"Because they are all talking about this big problem of music teaching, and elves coming to see the music elf," Elwing explains.

"Why would elves come see Maglor?" he asks. "They want to ask him to do that?"

"Yes," she says.

There are bits of lightning in her fog. "Your bolts are pretty," Earendil tells her. It's true.

He can feel her smile, her joy. It feels like being pulled into a warm blanket when you're cold.

She turns into a person and tackles him to the floor. … A while after that, they take a bath together; him as a person, and her as a big piece of rock. He pours scented water on the rock next to him in his big bathtub.

"Thank goodness I have you," he tells her. "I could never be with an elf. If not you, then no one."

The rock scoots over on its own and sits on his ankles. He pets it. It actually feels like mist instead of the hard granite it looks like. This is typical of Elwing's magic.

"I feel the same way," she tells him, into his soul mystically, bypassing speaking out loud, like usual. "I don't even understand the appeal of elves. What was my father thinking?"

"Well, I'm sure your mother was great in many ways, especially if he needed help back then. It must have been hard," Earendil hypothesizes. It was tough for him; he can only imagine also having magic powers you have to constantly try to control and then being murdered.

But keeping the stone was abhorrent, and really he was begging for death, Earendil thinks. How fucking stupid. He knows Elwing agrees with him.

Nimloth seems like a nice elf lady; Elwing doesn't really criticize her in the same way she's ready to set the rest of them on fire.

"She's okay," Elwing agrees. From her that's high praise, he knows. "I know your parents dumped everything on you because they're selfish, like mine. But I'm happy you're alive. What if I got to Sirion and you were an elf cause your mom married an elf? Then I would have been all alone, forever. Just me."

He picks up the rock and holds it to his chest as he tears up. God how terrible. He wonders if this is how Elrond felt when Elros effectively killed himself [metaphorically.] Alone.

"I couldn't have done it without you," he tells her-as-rock. "I'm so sorry I was such a bad friend. Husband, whatever. I love you."

"I love you too," she says into his soul. "Thank goodness we're both here together. And we even have a kid that's not dead! I thought we'd have zero. Or he wouldn't talk to us. But I think he likes us. One time I was spying and he told the other one that he liked us a little. I mean, there were a lot of caveats … but I don't care about technicalities."

Earendil laughs wetly.

"At least we are here together," she tells him. "Maybe Elrond will be nice to me again. It's so exciting when he says something nice."

"I know," he agrees. "I almost feel like I am the child, and he is the parent, and I want his approval. He certainly has no need of ours, of course."

He tries not to get emotional.

Elrond has Maglor for that; for approval. "I wonder if the boys wouldn't have accomplished so much if it had been me as their father instead," he tells her.

"I don't know," Elwing tells him. "I hope they wouldn't go off doing crazy stuff like HER daughter did. Maybe it's better they were around elves all the time; elves are normal, boring, and have no power. I think the music one was a good mother to them, from what I've seen in his memories, and the tortured one's."

The daughter being Luthien, of course. And then Maglor and Maedhros.

Elwing never gets physically close to Maedhros; she told him it was because she can see the extreme torture he went through in his soul, and it's horrific to see.

"I hope we would have been good too," he tells her. "I guess I should go to bed."

He gets out and takes the stone with him, and dries himself with a towel, and then dries the stone. He gets into his hammock with it, and holds it, and goes to sleep.

Elwing sometimes likes for him to take whatever physical form she is looking like around with him. When he wakes up, she is a person again. They have sex again, and both take a nap afterwards on the bed. It's great that his house has a bed because while they don't sleep in it, they do use it for coupling and naps.

He doubts most elves even have sex, honestly. They seem like they feel nothing, most of the time.

"I agree," she tells him. "They seem like they have no feelings inside. Not like us."

"Except for the weird ones," Earendil says, and she agrees.

They both think the list of weird ones includes the usual suspects: Fingon, Glorfindel, Maglor, Feanor, Maedhros, and also Earendil's parents, who are still as crazy in love as newlyweds, all this time later.

They don't know really about Elrond, maybe he's just never being his true self around them.

Elwing pulls in the breakfast trays left outside for Earendil by pages with her powers, teleporting them inside, and they eat on the bed together; him with his hands and her by consuming things without moving, magically. She likes pancakes with a disturbing amount of sweet syrup; he likes savory food first and then little sweets afterwards.

"I can't imagine being with a normal elf lady," Earendil says, leaning back onto a pillow. "I don't know if the boredom would get me first, or the fact that the elves are either stoic, or cheerful people who skip around all the time, in turn."

"I don't think I really like elves much," Elwing confesses, and he nods in understanding. "I wish Elrond were more like me."

"Maybe we just don't see the real him," he offers.

"No," Elwing tells him, "he uses his power when the elves get hurt. He doesn't do much other stuff. He imitates the elves all the time. He seems like he likes my magic, though."

"Maybe you could teach him," he says.

Elwing squidges her face around, making an 'I don't know' type facial expression. "SHE teaches him. I can't think he'd want my teachings after someone 'better'. Nevermind all the facts and blood, of course … " Elwing says angrily.

It's true, Melian should have never had a child with an elf. How insane is that. Or let that elf create endless bloodbaths due to his insane obsession with the silmaril.

He almost wants to say to the Valar, really? You impose your rules on elves, and you all are doing whatever you want. Also, what's going on with that Feanor son kid, Orome?

Funny how the rules only seem to work one way.

"I guess we won't know unless we ask him," Earendil says, and she considers it. "Do you want me to ask for you?"

She thinks about it for a while. Finally she nods. So he does.

It's the least he can do, after he left her in Sirion. To be honest, he doesn't know what he would have done in her shoes. It's easy to criticize her, obviously, but even Maglor has said things to him that shock him in terms of him [Maglor] siding with her.

He wonders if he would have done even worse than she did … he can definitely imagine that type of scenario.

Later that day, he takes a bath, gets dressed and walks over to Elrond's rooms, and finds him there with Maglor. Elrond seems to somehow know he wants to talk alone, and tells Maglor, "Save a cookie for me."

He gestures for his father to follow him down into the strange maze of rooms in Elrond's suite. Eventually he stops, and takes him inside one. It's filed with – no surprise – books.

Elrond probably has some type of collecting fixation due to his life trauma, he thinks, and then feels like a bad person. The amount of books is weird though. [The same for Glorfindel and his closets.]

"What's wrong?" Elrond asks him, sitting down on a chest of what's got to be books.

"Your mother wanted to know if you would like her to teach you about magic. But she understands if you are too busy with Melian already," Earendil explains.

Elrond looks surprised. "Of course I would," he replies. "I will probably be a poor student, you should warn her."

"I'm sure she doesn't care about that," Earendil assures him. "I don't think she has anyone else to do magic stuff with. And who doesn't tire of their siblings, I assume. So she would be happy to have a 'magic friend'."

Elrond agrees to it.

Earendil returns to house right away to find the inside is full of flowers – everywhere. You can't walk anywhere. He crawls up the hill of them and over them and finds her there on top. He can feel her happiness radiating out like a nice cool breeze on a warm day.

"He said yes," Earendil says unnecessarily. She already knows, he's aware.

He lays down next to her on the magical giant pile of indoor flowers for a while, enjoying her jubilation.

Then when the day comes for her to actually do it, meet with Elrond about it, she gets nervous and asks him to take her there as a single shoe and stay nearby in case she messes up and needs him to smooth things over with Elrond.

He says okay. He carries the shoe under his cloak and waits nearby. The shoe [her] zigzags off on it's own down the path to Elrond's rooms [making sure no elves can see it/her, hiding from them] until it's out of sight.

She returns after a very long while, still as a shoe. When she gets to him, he picks her up and he hears in his soul, "It worked, you were right – he liked it!"

'That's great,' he tells the shoe with osanwe, and puts it under his cloak and hustles back to his house. Once there he sets the shoe down on a table and she turns into a white kite and tells him to go fly her.

He agrees, happy. It's always fun to do stuff like this, they both like it. He has to go all over to find the best winds, higher up in the hills, and does, and flies the kite.

Afterwards, he collects the kite up and goes back to his house and they go to sleep. Elwing turns into a person for a little bit and then decides to be a big blanket around him instead; he clutches it to him. It feels like their souls are submersed against each other, it's a great comforting, good sensation. Her jovial feelings seep into him like water rains into the ground, the earth.

This must be what drinking wine is like for the elves, he imagines. He never feels good with it; they must feel something like this, that would explain their weird love of it. The Noldor even have different kinds of wines for different foods.

Many months later he finds out from Elwing that at the time, she also asked Maglor if he wanted to learn about magic, and he said yes.

"But isn't he a regular elf?" Earnedil asks, bemused. "How can he use magic."

"He is in tune enough with the Ainulindalë to use magic," she explains. "Like the tall lady elf. Her power though comes from will, instead. His comes from already being in harmony with the magic of existence itself."

Earendil knows she means Galadriel; she really is startlingly tall up close.

"Is that why he's always into music?" he asks her.

"No," she says. "I think he just likes it. You know, like an 'artsy' person."

Must be the blood, he thinks. A lot of Feanor's kids have crazy passions.

"So what's that like? Does he like it as much as Elrond does?" Earendil asks her.

She already has told him that Elrond is very pleased with his lessons from her. Really, they should have tried to do this as soon as he got here, maybe he would have been more pleased with them then.

Elrond, she's told him, is very much a logical person who tries to understand magic through basic concepts of already known science; like building off that already constructed scaffolding. He knows so much about the sciences that Elwing can't figure out what he's saying – and he can't figure out what she says about magic.

But she told Earendil they both like trying to figure it out together, to try to understand each other. Elwing does not exactly have a 'normal' education, due to her life. And Elrond was raised by someone [Maglor] who only could attempt to teach him what he scant knew of magic [use music to do stuff, apparently music is his conduit to it.]

"He seems to," Elwing reports, as they sit together in their swinging chair in the back room. It's hanging from the ceiling; Elwing asked Feanor to put it in there for them, so a while ago he came over and did. "He thinks he can't really use magic, but he can. His own mind is limiting him, because he doesn't think of himself as super powerful like that. Only a little powerful."

Earendil is wise enough to know he isn't missing out, in a way. Magic has seemed to be a great burden on Elwing always. He feels sorry for her instead of envying her.

Though it is neat how she can magically wash and launder their clothes in an instant. He likes that. This way he doesn't have to give his clothes to the servants in new Rivendell. It lets him avoid asking for things, which he doesn't really like to do.

It just feels weird – these people are the ones who helped Maglor care for Elrond, after setting their home on fire. So asking his old enemies, and then saviors [re Elrond] for things can be hard at times.

He can't imagine what they think of him. He can hardly think about himself.

Of course there is a big area in new Rivendell for the washing and drying and ironing of clothing, but he hasn't seen it up close. One of Elrond's elves told him they have invented a lot of machines for it all, so that it is less work for the elves in general.

Elrond's people also invented indoor plumbing, which is in the town, not far out where his and Elwing's houses are. But that's okay, he prefers an old fashioned latrine or outhouse. They do have some newfangled invention that heats water faster than boiling it, but he rarely uses it. He was fine on his ship without it, so he rarely uses new technologies.

"What about Fingon?" Earendil asks.

He knows that he wants to learn too, but has absolutely no natural magic whatsoever, apparently.

"Oh, he's a dead end," she says easily. "But I didn't want to hurt his feelings. So I lied and said he channels his into heroic stuff, like the other one does into music. So therefore naturally, he won't be able to use it easily since no one is in danger. The truth is he has no magic at all. He does have crazy love, which can seem similar, I understand, to the elves. But it is not."

"How sad for him," Earendil remarks, as they swing on their hanging chair together. "At least he's got the love part."

"Yes," she agrees. "That is rare, in the elves. … I have thought of something. And told my mother. She was shocked. So I want to tell you and see if you're shocked too, or if that was an elf thing."

"Okay," he says. They often do this, to see if other people's reactions are legit or are simply an 'elves are different' situation.

"I think she should remarry," Elwing says, and he is shocked.

"Oh," he says, surprised. "What did she say? Do elves do that? I mean other than – "

"That piece of garbage? I know. They don't, it seems like," Elwing says. Garbage always means Finwe, in her parlance; he started it all way back. His mistakes ruined all of their lives, and so many more, they both feel. "Mother said she didn't want us children to feel hurt, but me and them said we didn't care and that we hated father. She said she would think about it."

"Who would she marry?" Earendil says. "Some random elf lord? Can you see with your long sight?"

"I don't know," Elwing admits. "I'm thinking maybe those elves that met ladies who died forever – Finrod's brother, or Caranthir. Or what about Curvo, then she has a new built in kid, and he's even an elf!"

"Whoa," he says, blinking. "Do you think she even speaks to people related to who they're related to?"

Feanor's group.

"Hmmm," Elwing thinks, kicking her feet out and about. "Mother is technically rather different than regular elves. She alone among all the Doriath elves wanted to marry father. I was told that they would joke that he 'had' to choose her to wed because no other elf was brave enough, or thought they were high enough, to even approach him in that way."

"Well, then at least she's in good stead for these other ones, with that attitude," Earendil agrees.

He later finds out that Elwing literally sets up dates for her mother with these other elves [Aegnor, Curvo, Caranthir.] Thank goodness his parents are set forever, he thinks, because he could never do something like that for them. But Elwing though has her feelings of intuition due to magic that he does not have, so it must be different and make sense to her, he thinks.

After a while, he asks Elwing what the end result has been. She tells him, "Well Aegnor admitted he was in a secret relationship with an elf his family wouldn't approve of; Curvo she never spoke to because Tylpe showed up all of a sudden and said he was 'protecting' his father from her, clearly he doesn't get it, and Caranthir said he's not good enough for her. But that she was pretty. So I think it went pretty well."

Earendil tries to absorb all this.

"But Tylpe then later apologized to her, and she's going to go talk to him and Curvo in a few weeks. And the same for Caranthir," Elwing adds.

Well, that family is already pretty nuts, he thinks. Two brothers sharing a lady in real time hardly seems like a problem based on the Feanorean track record – or rather more correctly the Finwean one, since Finwe thought he'd take two wives, like the greedy asshole that he is.

Earendil might have been left at Sirion by his parents when they sailed, which was extremely horrible to endure, but at least neither of them started a new family and replaced him many times over.

And so as time goes on, that becomes a thing, that Nimloth goes and sees the three of the Feanoreans all the time. Tylpe even lets her go to see where he lives with the dwarves, which few elves have ventured to or been allowed access to. Aule's creations live mostly by themselves, together, just like most elf groups live by themselves, as like separate groups or tribes [Olwe's people, Feanor's people, Thranduil's people, etc.]

When word of this gets out to the public, that Nimloth is pursuing this, everyone assumes it's to punish the evil Feanoreans up close – and console Tylpe on his evil family. Earendil can only roll his eyes. Nimloth isn't even that type of person, she is very wise in some ways, Elwing has told him. She is just limited to an elf's wisdom though, so not smart enough to say 'dump that stone or I'll dump you' to Dior.

"Sometimes I feel thrilled that Elrond picked a regular elf king to like instead of a vala or cousin or random inappropriate person," Earendil tells her, and she agrees.

"Yes, the spear one is a good choice for him. Even everyone else thinks so too," she says, which must mean Maglor, Glorfindel, Cirdan et cetera. "They seem natural for each other, the way we are. I feel lucky to have you, and for him to have that elf he prefers."

"I feel lucky too," he says, and Elwing pours her spirit onto him, as they are both already feeling loving, making them both feel ecstatic. It's almost better than normal coupling. Touching souls is a serious and extreme pleasure.

Then later they are intimate. Neither of them mention the whole 'are we going to remarry' thing at any point.

Since the remaking ended all contracts, that type of thing, all elves who want to remain married have to re-marry. Of course the Valar can't police them now, but still. A lot of elves like the ceremony and public announcement of marriage, especially the nobles obviously.

Earendil feels like he can't mention it. He was probably the worst husband ever. Elwing could easily get somebody who didn't make as many mistakes as he did. Someone more social.

Surely there must be an eccentric elf out there that she would be pleased with, if they looked really hard through all the populations of elves currently in Aman.

"I need our matching blood," she suddenly says into his heart, not out loud. "Other than my magic blood, our blood is similar. We are as like to like, almost – close. I like that."

"Me too," he says quietly.

It had felt creepy in Sirion, when all the elves practically dragged the two of them together at all times and almost openly demanded they marry. They were children … refugees from extreme violence and the fall of their citites. Elwing's family was dead.

The elves didn't care at all. They were mere symbols, not people. A king and queen, not traumatized kids.

It had felt gross to think everyone was watching them, knowing they were different, the two different creatures among the elves. But he really had liked Elwing, and she had said she liked him too.

"Do you think Elrond will ever forgive me?" she asks him.

"I'm sure he understands, everyone says he's very wise. And Maglor said he told him nice things about you," Earendil says, trying to be supportive.

Whatever he does re Elwing, Elrond will never love him, he knows. Elrond is no sailor, not a fighter of dragons, not someone who's done crazy things. Elrond was raised by royal elves, and then went and stayed with another royal elf.

Elrond got adopted out of his bad life, from his bad parents – Elwing and him too would have jumped at the chance, he thinks, honestly, if they could have in Sirion themselves.

His son is a great scholar, a refined, respected ruler, a famous healer. They're never going to have anything in common.

Then though, the next week, Elrond shows up at his house, all energetic. "I need to show you something," he tells him, and already has a horse for him.

It's rare to see him like this, well, at least when he's with Earendil. He is usually is very controlled, very elves-sometimes-seem-like-statues-y. But he smiles at him today, and seems enthused.

They both climb on and ride out into the depths of the untouched land of new Rivendell. This is just nature only; few elves venture out this deep. But Elrond takes him into an area that has giant machines in it.

He gets off his horse, and Earendil follows him. There are no other elves there.

"You know how you like sailling," Elrond says. "But in the sky, your ship was simply going along without much work."

He nods. "This is real sky sailing," Elrond tells him. "My people have invented it. Come on."

Elrond climbs into the interior part of the machine, and has Earendil follow him. Then he taps all different things inside it, like levers and buttons, and it makes noise, and rises up into the air, and yes, is flying in the air. Like his ship.

Earendil panics a little, but Elrond reassures him, saying it's alright, relax, it's supposed to do this. He tries to breathe slower because Elrond tells him to try at one point.

It's very quiet inside it, the flying machine, but he can hear the distant whoosh of the machine working outside; it must be soundproofed inside.

Elrond sails the craft in the air.

"Look, the land down there looks so tiny," he remarks. "I guess you've already had this view, though. I haven't."

"I've never sailed over here above Aman, just over the ocean, and a little of Middle Earth," Earendil says. "Why did your people build this thing, this contraption?"

Elrond shrugs. "They thought you might like it."

Oh, he thinks, shocked.

Elrond shows him how it works. "Do you want to try?" he asks, and Earendil demurs.

"Maybe I should learn more first," he suggests, a little unsteady, emotionally.

"Books have already been written about it," Elrond tells him enthusiastically.

Of course, he thinks. He doubts there is anything that exists in Ea or beyond it that Elrond doesn't have a book about. Literally.

"Is it magic, that's making this operate?" he asks, looking out the window at the view. You can see all different parts of Aman from this height.

"No, not at all," Elrond explains. "Everyone involved in making it and using it is a regular elf."

He takes it back to where it was, flies straight back down to the earth, and docks it on the ground, and gets out. Earendil follows him blindly, stumbling. "What do you think?" Elrond asks him.

"Why would someone make this for me?" he asks him.

"One of the engineers thought you might like it," Elrond tells him causally … like that is a normal thing to do, or to make for someone else. "And they asked me, and I thought you might too, so they developed it so that you could try it."

I don't deserve that, he thinks.

It can be hard to bear, when Elrond is nice to him, not just only when he's more flat and netural. "They shouldn't have done that, wasted so much time for just me," Earendil tells him, feeling embarrassed, and hot with shame. "I don't need anything."

"Father, the point of life is to enjoy yourself," Elrond tells him flippantly, going to his horse. "Trying random fun things is part of that. I care about you, and want you to have a good time."

"You're more fun than me," Earendil says, watching him get up onto his horse, Elrond looks down at him as he stands there on the ground still. "I almost wish you hated me. It would make more sense." But instead his son has done many nice things for him, over the years that he's known him.

Elrond laughs at him.

"You have no sense, father," he says. "You're so silly. Try to enjoy yourself more."

"How can you be so nice to me," Earendil says quietly.

Elrond gets off his horse, which is worrying. He comes to him and hugs him, to his surprise.

"If reality is too hard, then just lie," he says to him, holding him in his embrace; he's shorter. "Pretend I'm just your random friend you met in Aman, and your name is Pitialph."

Little swan. For Tuor is forever the big swan. People of Gondolin actually send him swan-themed things once in a while and he unironically loves it. He has a room of just swan depictions.

"And you're Nityaparma?" Earendil says dryly, above his head. Little book.

Elrond makes an amused noise. He steps back but keeps his hands on his arms. "You don't have to be so serious all the time," he says. "Go to some parties. Live. Be happy."

"I don't like to be around the elves a lot," Earendil explains. "Your mother, neither."

"Well then let's go to the parties of the dwarves and the ringbearers," Elrond says, cavalier. "I'm sure Tylpe would let me go."

"Wouldn't the dwarves object because Thingol was killed – " he starts saying and Elrond rolls his eyes.

"Get on your horse, come," Elrond tells him. "Even the dwarves have given that old stuff up. So we must too. Besides, they like the compliment that the elves want to see their parties. They love Maglor's music, which they beg Tylpe to let them keep getting to hear; and also that Maglor has a great interest to hear their music, and learn their ways. They like Galadriel, and they like me too. And of course they have taken Tylpe in as one of them, now. Sometimes Aule even comes by for the festivities, how fun is that."

"Alright," he says, and gets on his horse.

So that's how he and Elwing find themselves in the dwarven lands, with both the ringbearers and the dwarves, at a party.

Elrond knows some of them, and speaks with them, as does Galadriel; the ringbearers too. Legolas is there, who is already known to the dwarven peoples as a great friend of theirs.

Elwing has spent most of her time alone, and so now eagerly talks to dwarves that Gimli introduces her too. They are all desirious to speak to her about her 'elven magic', asking her if she does craftwork with it, or creates art with it. They tell her they know Elrond and that he is magical, because he is such a great healer. And that Legolas too is an outstanding, magical elf who is a great warrior.

Their definition of what 'elf magic' is is totally wrong, but Elwing seems to like this, and nobody else corrects them. Earendil doesn't either.

They also want to ask Earendil questions about sailing, since most of them do not do things like that, staying instead close to the earth or down below the surface of the land. Some of them ask both about what it's like to fly – for Elwing is famous for being a bird, and he has a flying ship, right? They both must have great magic powers.

Instead of their questions being tinged with elven history and attitudes, they are simple and pure inquiries, out of simple interest. They don't care about the old elven history.

One little dwarf earnestly asks Earendil, "Do the birds in the sky get annoyed when you sail, because it's their sky? And do you ever go to the moon and explore it? What's on it anyway?"

"No I've never been to the moon," he answers. "And birds don't seem to mind me."

"The birds tell me what you're up to," Elwing interjects calmly.

The dwarf finds this very funny. "Spying on your husband! This is something any woman could get behind," the dwarf laughs. "You will make the lesser elves jealous, my lady. They will want birds to keep their own elf men in line!"

Earendil isn't sure how old most of the dwarves here at the party are, or if they are male or female. Then again, sometimes elves all seem alike too. Tuor and he himself are both very masculine in a way that's a little visually different than some elves. Though there are some very manly ones, like Maedhros and Glorfindel. They both look like they could uproot a tree themselves and carry it off easily.

Tylpe was happy to let them all come over to his 'house' in the dwarven areas, and the dwarves threw a party to welcome them all. First though, Earendil had to endure listening to Tylpe privately apologize for his evil family.

He'd had to tell him that he wasn't so good, either.

But Tylpe had just laughed and said that Elrond wouldn't be so great and famous and amazing if he and Elwing weren't also great; that blood always tells.

That was nice of him. Maglor has said that to him too, which is nice, again.

Chapter Text

The dwarves turn out to be fun, as are the ringbearers. Glorfindel seems to be friends with everyone; that's just his manner, Earendil thinks. The dwarves insist that Maglor come over all the time so they can show him more of their music, and also so they can hear his. He seems to like this.

Kano and Elrond go see Tylpe there often anyway. Sometimes Elwing or Earendil go too; Finrod of course comes at times. Caranthir starts to be invited too, when the dwarves ask Maglor for him, and Maglor pre-warns Earendil about this particular brother of his at home.

Earendil hasn't met him before [or most of the sons of Feanor, not in depth], and Elwing as a child was busy saving herself [and a certain stolen stone] as he fought, killed her people and family, and died in Doriath.

When they are about to leave for the land of the dwarves, Maglor comes up to his closet with him as Elrond speaks to Elwing downstairs in his house. "Remember that he while he was indeed slandered in that biased Peng's histories, not everything written was wrong. He is very remote and stoic and spends his time managing trading agreements. He is reliable, he is an organizer, he manages things. He handles the records. But Caranthir when angry is very angry. He is not a sociable elf. He makes me look like a beloved celebrity."

Maglor literally is one anyway, in several ways, but Earendil decides not to mention it.

Maglor has been insistent with Elwing that Nimloth deserves someone far better than a son of Feanor, or two, but she smiles and throws water balloons at him and distracts him, making him watch, mesmerized like a little boy in delight when the balloons explode, it's magical glowing halographic colored glitter that then disappears when it hits anything. [Or she fills rooms with butterflies, making him laugh.] Apparently she likes it when elves like her magic, like Maglor does.

"So if he speaks to you, and is rude, simply call for me with osanwe, and I'll give the dwarves something fun to watch," Maglor adds dryly, cautioning him about Caranthir. "I almost want you to give me a reason. Make one up if you must, ha. I already told Elwing all the same. Oh not that coat, wear the other one. It makes you look more regal."

Earendil goes with his fashion advice. "Has Glorfindel rubbed off on you, for you to speak of raiment like this?" he asks.

Maglor looks aghast. He really is pretty delightfully dramatic, in a quiet charming way. "This is my own thought, I tell you. Glorfindel has nothing to do with it. I've had opinions on fashion far before he popped up," he declares. "Did you see that outfit of his last week? How could anyone think he has style."

It's incredibly easy to get Maglor or Glorfindel off track, just mention the other one.

Caranthir though actually turns out to be pretty non-terrible, despite Maglor's warnings. He simply appears to lack the inherent charm and beauty of Maedhros, and the natural magnetism of Maglor [he really was born to be a performer.] Or even the burning passion and energy that Feanor practically radiates naturally.

The guy is not very good at socializing, and seems about as awkward as Earendil feels, and also definitely is, for that matter. The dwarves are pleased to see Caranthir, and he knows many of them personally. He seems quite shocked that Earendil and Elwing are there.

Caranthir seems though to be eager to do whatever Maglor wants, which Maglor doesn't really seem to notice at all, Earendil thinks. [There isn't a lot of space here for that to apply in general anyway.] In a sense, he's not surprised, because Maglor really is a megastar when he's in public. He almost never is actually out where people can see him, or by himself like that.

When he is, elves literally swarm him [to talk to him, begging him to play for them] if they think they can get away with it, or they think he'll be receptive for some reason; here the dwarves do that too, but he's taller so it looks different.

Fingon and Maedhros rarely go see the dwarves, but Glorfindel comes every time.

Hearing Maglor's music is quite nice, he loves to. When Elwing is there, he only plays happy songs, he lets her know beforehand, because that is her preference.

"What do you think, of these dwarven excursions?" he asks Elwing, back at her house one night, after they've gotten back from an dwarf soiree. "I thought the food was okay."

It's not as amazing as Elrond's chefs, but it's pretty good.

"I like it," Elwing says against his chest, as they lay together in the hammock [she's got one in her house too, for when he stays over.] "It's fun to not have to be around elves. We can do whatever we want. They don't care. And most of the elves there with us don't care what we do either."

It's true. Everyone that goes has their own interests and is focused on other people.

Weirdly, Caranthir gets along with Elwing [ … despite the past], who apparently spoke to him at length at first while telling him he should speak to her mother as a prospective suitor. Earendil thinks it's because she's herself and he's very straightforward, with no graces. Kind of like a more boring Feanor, he thinks.

Eventually Caranthir even speaks directly to Earendil, and apologizes for his part in the Feanorean crusade. Earendil nods. It's always uncomfortable when people talk like this.

After that, they both aren't sure what to say, he thinks. "I only really know Maglor very well, out of all of you," Earendil comments.

Caranthir looks surprised. "Very well?" he asks quietly.

"Yes, I have known him for long time now," Earendil explains.

"You have spent time together?" he asks, almost confused by the concept.

Earendil understands; most elves don't know what's going on with Maglor, much less Earendil himself. If anything they imagine Earendil approving that he's kept hostage by Elrond. … Elves are kind of idiots sometimes, he thinks.

"Yes," Earendil confirms. "He's kind of my best friend. Or my only friend, except for Glorfindel."

Him and Glorfindel, really. That's it. But Glorfindel is much more of a usual elf, and Maglor is not. He and Glorfindel are like normal acquaintances, the way the elves are, all mostly polite and appropriate.

He and Maglor have a more messy and deep and emotional situation going on.

It has been Maglor who has held him as he's wept many times over his mistakes. It has been Maglor who has played for him, whether for his pleasure or to make him feel better. And also, it has been Maglor he talks to about Elrond at times, because he's his parent. He's shown him his memories of the boys with osanwe and magic, too, so that he can see things he missed.

Moments he'll never have with them.

Elwing and Earendil himself are like Elrond's distant aunt and uncle, it feels like. In terms of their real tie.

Caranthir turns a little away. He looks like he's thinking about a future where he may be sick as he tears up at the same time, but he can tell it's not some reaction to him – it's got to be about Maglor. This son of Feanor has no reason to care about Earendil himself at all. Why such a strong response?

But Caranthir says nothing.

Earendil isn't sure what to do. He stays quiet too; the other elf doesn't go anywhere, apparently stilled in upset.

So reaches out to Maglor with osanwe, who's just talking thankfully, and asks, after explaining what happened.

'Tell him I mentioned him, and said he was our reader and keeper of knoweldge, of us brothers,' Maglor instructs immediately.

So he does.

Caranthir looks like he might sniffle due to being emotionally affected, now.

'Say I mentioned that I was thinking about asking him for his help with how I should organize my scores,' Maglor adds, so Earendil does.

He looks so pleased; Earendil reports this back to Maglor.

Afterwards, he goes to Maglor to ask what that was about. Sometimes after the dwarven events they all go home and hang out together in Elrond's rooms. There's a lot of drinking going on with the dwarves, so many of their party rest when they return to the town in guest rooms in new Rivendell.

To his surprise, Maglor admits to him, "I have no idea, really. I can't imagine anybody caring about what I think. The elder one? Sure. The more aggressive ones? Okay. But me?"

He immediately thinks of how Elrond said Maglor replaced Elwing.

Maybe he was a figure of gentleness to his brothers, too, and they want his approval. When he tells Maglor this, he laughs. "My friend, truly you must be tipsy to say this. You clearly must not have read the early histories of my group."

He must mean when Maglor was regent, and Maedhros, taken. Earendil did learn about that, from tutors that were so over the top Feanorean-hating that it kind of started to show their own mistakes, Turgon's mistakes, not just those of Feanor's group. But Earendil had kept silent even as a boy, because everyone was very much cultlike.

He wonders if that's why Glofindel does such odd things now. Even as a child Earendil could tell that everyone was hyping up Turgon and Gondolin itself a little too much. It was just a tiny bit too forced, too unnatural.

Unfortunately, Earendil turned out to be right. He didn't want to be.

"Maybe he wants to have a good relationship now," he asks, but Maglor shakes his head.

"You don't – let me tell you, I know these people. I tell you, they do not care for me. Nelyo, I won't let them be alone with," Maglor insists. "They are not like me. Not that I'm something, but still. They are different. I hated what happened; I felt like they were … not feeling exactly like I did. I was only close to Nelyo anyway, but. The way. I will not speak to any of them by myself; they have no care for me. What Caranthir was like just now is very out of character for him; I don't understand it."

"Maybe the halls changed him," Earendil suggests.

"Hmm," Maglor hums, wrinkling his nose. He obviously is having a hard time buying that idea.

But indeed, it keeps happening that Caranthir goes to the dwarves' gatherings, at their invitation, and Earendil sees him watch Maglor intently, and try to please him. Maglor of course is too busy being famous and in demand to notice anything about his random brother.

They are almost opposites: Maglor is very personable, affable. Everyone loves being able to hear him perform, so they are excited to see him – even, Earendil has heard, elves he literally killed himself. Elrond has told him that some come to new Rivendell and weirdly want Maglor to play for them privately as some type of recompense for their deaths.

… Elves sure are different, he thinks.

But truly, his playing does feel like a magical fever of pleasure, that he understands. Even the end, when he stops a song, that moment of coming up for air out of the relentless feeling of euphoria – that too is a moment of gratification, satisfaction all its own as well. It's like the silence makes the music that was just played even more powerful, after. It's hard to describe.

Maglor probably could explain it, but Earendil has accidentally fallen asleep when he talked about 'music: 'how it works' ' before, so he doesn't ask.

[Maglor thought that was very funny, and told him when he woke that he knows he's a boring pedant about music already. Maglor has a way about him where you feel cared for instead of embarrassed, you feel kindness and loving warmth instead of disdain or humiliation.]

The Curufin brother never goes to these new dwarven events, though even Earendil knows that that one knows the dwarves. And that he's Tylpe's father. When he asks Elrond, his son looks surprised.

"I think he's still ill," he answers, as they play chess together, in Elwing's house. She wanted them three to do something, but it's a surprise; they're waiting together for her.

"Elves don't get sick, I thought?" Earendil asks. It had been hard, when young, to see his father not be as hale as the elves sometimes. And he'd feared for his own self greatly, too.

"They only do if it's some type of sadness," Elrond explains. "That hurts them as much as a real wound."

"He's sad about the past, what happened?" Earendil says, really in a rhetorical way, because everyone knows what happened to Tylpe. Thank goodness Elrond was never hurt like that, he doesn't know how he could go on, just knowing of it.

"No," Elrond corrects, to his surprise. "Because Tylpe rejected him here, in this new Arda. And his wife left him. He was unable to go on."

That could be me, he thinks, a chill going down his spine.

He loses another game of chess to Elrond, and they start again. He's never won one, which seems almost symbolic. Really he doesn't even try to win; he's never played much ever anyway. He just likes doing stuff with him.

He can imagine it, if Elrond had rejected him when he crossed the sea. Elwing still consumed by grief and hysteria and barely able to live with knowing what she did and also that Elros died, too.

Earendil would have had to kill himself, if Elrond had spurned him then.

"Finno has asked me if you think Tuor is bothered by his visits to him and Idril," Elrond adds.

"I don't think so," Earendil opines. Fingon has said before he wants to know his 'nephew' of a sort – not just his niece Idril.

This obviously is a deliberate statement, because Tuor is simply Idril's mannish husband, and not an elf, and not related to Finno obviously.

"Finno has improved so much," Elrond continues, pleased. He knows Elrond had often worked excessively to try to help Finno's series depression at being separated from Maedhros for so long.

Earendil feels like he's healed a little too. He's not so bad off now as before. He has a routine now.

And Elwing has recovered a bit, like he has, over all this time. Before she was simply incorporeal at all times in her tower. He's extremely offended when he hears that the histories say the elves near to her tower could see her fly up as a bird to meet him when he was docking his flying ship.

She was not doing that. Elwing was busy living through the agony of knowing what had happened -- and what she'd done, too. He was as well. It was unbearable.

There is no greater punishment, he thinks. [Other than what happened to Maedhros, obviously.]

Elwing's brothers continue to remain a secret, Nimloth informs him when he has tea with her. He mentioned to Elwing once that maybe she could come and see them at his house if she ever felt like it, and now Nimloth comes by all the time, apparently happy to socialize with him and Elwing together.

"Is it because of the Valar?" he asks Nimloth as Elwing vacuums up some cookies magically, one day at Nimloth's house though, consuming them in some vaporizing way as they disappear.

Nimloth acts like an elf, and so is very stately and ladylike. But honestly, he prefers Elwing. He'd hate to try to act different. Admittedly, it's much easier to be around Nimloth than anyone else [re random elves], because she knows them both and also married Dior, and had magical children, so clearly she has a lot of experience with people like Earendil and Elwing, too.

"No," Nimloth says, holding her teacup like some perfect unmoving statue. "The boys just don't want to have to deal with the elves. I agree with their decision. It seems like a waste of time to bore them with new Doriath and make them deal with so many elves who grieve them. They deserve to live free and happy, not be made tragic symbols. And ... I wouldn't want them pressured to do things in new Doriath," she adds, with a particular tone.

He nods. He knows she means because Thingol is a little asshole.

Surely he would parade the boys around, have them playact as princes, and also make them [or try to] live in new Doriath.

How lucky the boys are to have Nimloth, a great parent, he thinks.

"Yes you're a great mother," Elwing suddenly says. "I agree."

Nimloth inclines her head, and says thank you to both of them.

"Though it be foolish, I have often thought of myself as one of you," she says, surprising him.

"Like magic got on you by accident?" Elwing asks. "By being near us and with father?"

"Yes," she says. "I know it is not so. But I find myself thinking of the elves as some 'other' group, that I am not part of. You both must find this silly, I know. I must seem utterly pedestrian in terms of my kind."

"No," Earendil hastens to say, lying. "You are much better than an elf."

Elwing nods emphatically. "I would never call you that!" she adds.

Nimloth smiles at her over-agreement, she and Earendil knowing it is out of love. There's nothing about Nimloth at all that's unelflike, to his inexpert eye. But maybe Elwing can see further, obviously, and discern more than he can.

They have a nice lunch of elf food that's absolutely boring. Then they both go home to new Rivendell and eat much more complex and interesting food – the mignonette for the oysters is excellent today especially, he thinks, while Elwing magically hoovers up some crab cakes and then they both eat some fresh warm pasta with nice crusty bread.

They have both felt much better recently, he thinks.

Now he can look back at when Elrond first came across the sea and met them and understand how terribly he and Elwing had done trying to talk to him for what must be the 'first' time, in Elrond's eyes.

It had not gone well.

Elrond had simply looked at them, and they at him. He had spoken to Earendil before of course, with his prayers and all that communication. But it's different in real life.

He and Elwing must have disappointed him then, he thinks. They were both very scared of meeting him, and of how he must hate them.

Elrond had seemed quite self-sufficient back then, very closed off and proper, and formal. Like some very old and wise elf that was meeting with two odd children.

But nowadays, seeing what he thinks is closer to Elrond's 'real' self, he sees him as much more funny, casual and actually rather closer to Tuor and Nimloth in personality than anything else.

He has never seen Elrond really get upset though. Glorfindel yes, who had yelled at the two of them at some of those early meetings. He had criticized their phrasing, wording, and also what they were saying entirely. That had been hard to take, seeing as they had only said about one sentence each.

Even then they both knew Glorfindel was right, it's just that they still didn't know what to say, regardless.

He pauses and tells Elwing, "I want to go apologize to Elrond."

"Will you say me too, but that I don't know how to word it?" she asks, and he nods.

Over at Elrond's, he's looking at books like usual. Everyone else is out, at the moment.

"Oh hello, father," he says, letting him in. Earendil sits down heavily.

"I realize now, yes I am a fool," Earendil tells him, "that it has been you and Maglor who have comforted me for so long. I do not know what you do with your mother when I am not there, of course. But I suddenly though, I wish I could comfort you. And be like Maglor to you. I don't know what happened, this all just got away from me. And I know you are no child now, but – "

Elrond comes over and sits beside him, and hugs him.

"I wish I could have comforted you when you were praying to me 'as a star' before," he adds, as Elrond leans against him and he holds him back. "I was so invested in all the stuff you said. It was so exciting when good things happened. And I was so sad for you when you said something bad happened."

He can see now that he and Elwing were so ruined by their lives when Elrond crossed the sea that there had been no chance that they would be able to rebuild their relationship with him well.

"Oh, also your mother wanted me to say she is sorry too but wasn't sure what words to say it in, so she wanted me to mention it," he adds.

Elrond makes an amused noise, still there against him.

"I don't we are as bright as you, in learning," Earendil tries to explain. "You say everything right all the time, and I don't think we ever do. Really we didn't really have many lessons, and then – "

"I know," Elrond tells him, quietly. "It's neither of your faults."

Indeed, the breakdown of both their societies had lead to both of them not having normal elven educations, something that never happened because then they left middle Earth anyway, and then lived in seclusion and grief in Aman. Basically they haven't done homework about anything since they were tiny children.

Earendil knows they both even have terrible handwriting. In comparison, Elrond's got like fifty Ph.D.s, courtesy of Maglor.

"I don't care how you talk," Elrond tells him. "Simple is fine. I was more sensitive back before, when we first met in Aman. My life had been very tiring at that point, due to the fight against the enemy, then. I had no energy. Coming here was very scary, for me. I was afraid of what you two would be like. If you would like me."

"Of course we like you," Earendil tells him hastily. He suddenly realizes that Elrond is crying onto his shirt. "You're one of us. On our team."

Whoops, he thinks. Okay, more like Elrond's on the Feanorean team, but whatever.

"We missed you," he adds. "I used to think about you all the time when I was on my ship. I pictured you as a baby, though. When I heard Maglor talk to me, I used to imagine him holding you. Eventually the mental picture I had made no sense because he was saying you were like doing well at your archery lessons and I was still imagining a baby holding toy bow and arrows."

Elrond laughs.

"Truly, I love Maglor," Earendil tells him. "I think if I hadn't heard you all pray to me, and that it was so good and loving for you, with you being with him all safe, I would have killed myself. Before I knew he had rescued you, I used to think of you two being tortured to death as babies. Sometimes I couldn't sleep. I … just felt hysterical."

"The Valar in their wickedness hurt you very much," Elrond says, to his surprise. "At least, at last, you are free from their evil."

He blinks. Of course the Valar were uh questionable on just about eveyrthing they ever did, but he didn't think of his own life like that.

"Me?" he asks slowly. Elrond sits back and wipes his eyes.

"Of course. We know what they did to you. Everyone has always been thinking of you; me and Maglor, even Feanor, so many other elves. How we have thought of your suffering and felt so sorry for you."

"You mean by saying I couldn't go back to you?" Earendil asks.

"No, by making you sail," Elrond says, like it's obvious. "But sure, that too. Really just everything they did. Truly, they were all corrupted, monsters. I had long mourned for you, to know you had to sail. Maglor too felt it very keenly for you."

"Uh, thanks," he agrees. "Why is the sailing bad again?"

Elrond looks shocked. "Because they forced you to sail."

"Oh," Earendil says, hesitating. "That wasn't really, well, 'forced' per say. I wanted to do it. I mean, it probably kept me from suicide, to be honest. Elwing probably came close, she had no excuse to be busy with, to distract herself."

Elrond looks appalled. "You should have gotten support, medical help, instead of been sailing," he points out.

Earendil tries not to laugh. "I don't think the elves and the Valar here would have really helped us. I think they probably would have made things worse, really. Your medicine-healing stuff isn't like that of the elves. Yours works all the time."

Elrond looks weirdly pleased. "I think somehow you must have gotten some affect of Maglor's blood in yours, to be such a genius. Because it definitely is coming from Feanor and Maglor, not from me or Elwing, or our relatives. Nobody we've got is a genius."

Elrond laughs, looking young. "It just interests me, that's all," he explains. "Maglor told me he was sure I'd be a great healer, and he told Elros he was sure he'd be a great adventurer-leader. It almost now seems like prophecy, when I think of it. But he always said you were brilliant, and that mother was too, and that you needed the silmaril to get to Aman and save our whole continent, so that's why Elros and I were bright. He said sagacity in the blood was clearly directly coming from you and mother. I believed that for a long time."

"That goodness for Maglor, a million times over," Earendil says, and they both smile. "I feel like he spent the whole time lying about us, saying we were great. Instead of who we really were. Are. Just stupid, scared kids. I don't even know if I needed the silmaril. Mother and father got here without it."

"I know," Elrond says easily, to his surprise. "And I know mother must have panicked and jumped – without thinking she was going on another trip."

Earendil sighs heavily. It's so sad to think of her freaking out, understanding all her advisors were wrong, not being sure what to do, and that she was going to die. He's always known that she must have simply gotten hysterical – but nowadays he understands it with compassion for her. Before, he was too hysterical himself to even be supportive. He just expresses himself differently.

"Both of your peoples had put you and mother in an impossible situation," Elrond says. "You both were trapped; I often thought of it as almost being similar to how Maglor and Maedhros were trapped in their horrible lives by their father. I've been more 'free' than the rest of the group, really. I am sorry for you all."

Earendil embraces him gently, and they just sit there for a while.

"I am so grateful for Maglor," Earendil tells him quietly. "Can you imagine if he'd left you … oh god. It makes me sick. And he helped you be so smart and accomplished. If you'd lived with us you'd have turned out to be a floor washer with only a few letters, not the whole alphabet."

Elrond laughs. "That's not true. Maglor always said there were many types of wisdom, and many people were good at their interests and not good at anything else, like him with music. And that clearly yours was better than most, because there won't be anyone left to hear a song if the world was destroyed, so Maglor would be out of luck without you."

It always feels so strange to know how Maglor has always been nice about him and Elwing. He feels like they don't deserve it. Elwing herself has said that Maglor is more motherly than her – and even Nimloth and Idril. She had confessed to him that sometimes she asks Maglor to hug her and say she did her best, and he demanded that Earendil be there to approve this. [He told him he doesn't care.]

Admittedly, he is very good at being comforting. He's definitely soothed Earendil enough times. It can feel hard not being embarassed about it, but Maglor thankfully isn't someone you have to feel like that around. He knows Maglor is too kindly to want someone to feel that way about him.

"If only we could have all been friends, free of our terrible paths," Earendil murmurs.

"You are free now," Elrond says, getting up and calling for refreshments. "And we are all friends. I know Maglor has lived in only pain about what happened this whole time. He told me when I was a boy that when I met you and mother again, I must be ready for how angry you would be about him, and I must agree with you then with no caveats, because you both would be so eager to show me you loved me, and that it was a symbol of your love."

Earendil looks askance at him. "I feel like Maglor really was overstating us," he says, wincing. "Setting us up for failure in your eyes, when we really turned out to be a bunch of pathetic loners. He should have said 'awkward child rulers who fucked up will have a hard time knowing what to say after the enormity of how they ruined your life confronts them while meeting you for the first time as an adult.' "

Elrond looks amused.

"You didn't ruin my life," he says calmly. "I had a pretty nice life, actually."

Yeah, he thinks. All due to Maglor – if he hadn't intervened, they would have had ruined his life. He and Elwing owe everything to him.

But at least it's easy, because it's him. Maglor is already nice to them, and seems to like them. He is very gentle, in his way, and it feels nice, honestly, to have someone on their side … even if it's someone nobody expected to be on their side.

A page comes in with some nice fare, and Elrond drinks some elderflower tea beverage.

Earendil drinks milk and eats a bunch of little sandwiches; there are cucumber ones, deviled egg ones, smoked salmon ones and also whitefish salad ones, friend shrimp ones [very good], chicken salad [some with celery/plain and some with curry powder], and ham with brie ones.

Elrond eats very daintly; he actually eats.

"Tell mother I understand," he says, while they both try the little puddings. "It's not any of our faults, what happened. I think we all know that Finwe set this into motion because he's an idiot."

Earendil nods while eating some apple crumble with apple cinnamon ice cream. [It's amazing.]

"Are you using magic to make this food good?" he asks him, and Elrond shakes his head.

"It's Maglor and Maedhros' people," he explains. "They love their work. They make me look like a lazy lay-a-bed. Sometimes I turn around and they randomly built a new building for whatever purpose – and they're already done, even. They simply can't be stopped."

He nods.

Thank goodness Elrond is their leader now, Earendil thinks. It's much better for them to channel their crazy-level Noldor energy into good, constructive projects intead of into following Feanor and his kids to their deaths on a deranged suicide quest.

Maglor shows up, holding a popsicle in a cup, and goes to leave them together, but Earendil begs him to stay.

"Please don't go," he asks him, and Maglor pauses. "I'm so much better at talking when you're here."

Maglor looks bemused, and looks at Elrond. "I think he's fine," he tells his 'son'.

Elrond just laughs, and asks him how he's doing. It's true though, that all conversations are more fluid and easy with Maglor there, not only for Earendil but for everyone. Maglor is so naturally witty and has such a magnetic personality that it's just better.

"Well, the kitchen made me an ice lolly of wine, but light for me, how neat is that," Maglor says, and waves it around.

"Why do the elves like wine so much?" Earendil asks him. He often asks Maglor 'elf' questions, because he seems like the only person who is both an elf, and will be extremely honest with him, not sparing his feelings.

Maglor hmms. "I suppose it's their only way to feel relaxed, artifically. And the taste is nice, how it's a little astringent. And then there's the whole, 'drunken escapades are fun' situation."

Maglor often speaks of the elves as 'them' instead of 'us'. Earendil has noticed that he does this often; it must be that he so takes Elrond's side in all things that he even looks at the elves as the other instead of Elrond as the 'different' thing.

How great is that. He knows he himself and Elwing would have killed for someone like that, all this time.

"Did you ever go on those?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor smiles and shakes his head. "He couldn't risk hurting his hands or arms," Elrond chimes in.

"Indeed," Maglor confirms. "Besides, I was never in society, I was with Nelyo, or talking to mother and father. And even Finno was incredibly upstanding at all times, shaming his average, normal family with his perfect conduct."

Earendil doesn't doubt it. Fingon really does seem like that.

"I can't believe that he did what he did, back then," Earendil says. "I am not brave enough."

"Who is?" Elrond asks, amused. "Truly, Fingon is unique among all the elves. One of the greatest, I think."

"Yes," Maglor agrees seriously.

He knows that Maedhros, Finno and Maglor are said to be in some weird co-dependent situation because of how they tried to heal Maedhros, before. And that now too, Maglor is always over there with them, trying to help his brother.

"Have something," Elrond tells Maglor, gesturing to the very decimated refreshment trays.

"We should get a new one, I ate all this," Earendil tells him, and they both smile.

"Don't say that," Maglor insists to him, gently. "Then he'll want me to eat more. With this, I'll get away with just one tiny thing."

"I can't save you if Glorfindel gives you worried lectures," Elrond says, jesting.

Earendil has witnessed this, that Glorfindel is always scolding Maglor to eat more, who then tells him to mind his own business.

"Can't you both just lie for me," Maglor complains, trying a little cucumber sandwich.

Elrond laughs. "Father would probably self-combust. And I am no good at lying, as you know."

Maglor nods, and tells Earendil, "He only even tried to lie, quite poorly at it, when he was trying to spare a servant for something and say he broke a vase, or whatever. But blood will tell. If I got married and had a kid, you would see – they'd be great at lying. And hopefully music. Can you imagine me if the kid wasn't good at music, despite being of my line? I think I'd faint dead away."

Earendil tries not to guffaw at this. Maglor is quite funny when he talks, often.

"You could teach them," Elrond argues.

Maglor shakes his head. "You were a born hero, child. Like your parents. Your deeds in life come as no surprise. They are valorous and feted by all; so are you. Just as I am like my own people, what with my prodigious talent and exceptional foolishness. As they say, blood always tells. If Elrond were my real child, there's no doubt he'd be off like Tylpe by now, shunning me justly, not being revered as wise by the elves."

Truly, Maglor can go from being extremely comedic to extremely incisive randomly, all at once.

"Elrond is much wiser than us, though," Earendil points out. "We're not alike in that."

Maglor hmms, thinking on it. "We cannot know what field you two, you and Elwing, would have excelled in, since both your childhoods were so excessively disrupted," he rules. "Maybe Elwing would be a famous artist, or astronomer; or you would be a great lawyer, or architect."

Personally he feels like neither of them have the work ethic of the Noldor, even him, who is partially related to Finwe. But that's still really nice of Maglor to say.

"You do seem like you'd be good at those things," Elrond muses, clearly trying to picture them as experts in those fields.

Earendil isn't so sure.

He tells Elwing what they said later when he goes home; she's at her house, she tells him on the way, so he diverts over to there.

The house Elrond gave her is something she prizes, he knows. It's not like his house, which just looks like a royal summer vacation home.

Elwing's house looks like a kind of castle, really. It has giant towers, but also a huge underground area, too; not just cellars but tons of real rooms.

Elrond had had it filled with lots of items for her, that he had ordered made, and had done the same for Earendil and his house, earlier. He hasn't touched any of the things put in there, as it seems so special, to think his son bothered and picked it all out for him specifically.

Elwing has taken the opposite tack and moved a lot of what Elrond gave her into like 'shrines' almost, where it will stay pristine forever. Earendil actually uses the stuff he has eventually, he stops treating it as holy and just uses it; Elwing usually doesn't.

Her house is painted in all gold, looking quite eccentric, unlike his house [which looks like a normal royal elf house.]

Inside, it doesn't look like elves made it, because of how she put some of the furniture on the ceiling and moved things around to suit herself. Some items stick out of walls at random angles, that type of thing.

"He and Maglor said we are really like him," Earendil tells her, after coming inside. He can almost sense her in the other room, and goes in – she is a big cool pile of fresh snow on the ground. "And that everything wasn't our fault."

"Oh," she says, sounding emotional. He feels the same way.

The two of them's opinion is something he and Elwing feel extremely sensitive to.

"Come and make a snow vala," she tells him, so he does, laying down in the 'snow' [it's her, but it's a lot of snow, not like literally her in person form] and moving his arms and legs.

"I wonder what Maglor called these when the boys were children," Earendil says to her. "The Feanoreans hate the Valar. So they probably didn't say 'make a snow vala' or a 'snow elf'."

Tuor had called them 'snow angels' and a 'snowman' to him as a boy, and so he has always thought of them that way, but mother had told him the elven words for them, just so he knew.

"I'll look into his mind," Elwing tells him with osmosis, still as snow.

It's nice to lay against her like this. Like she surrounds him, everywhere, and he can just relax into her enormity.

"Oh he told them the non-red elf way," Elwing reports. She sometimes calls the Feanoreans the 'red' elves. "He only told them what his people said later on, when they were old. They just said 'snow people' and 'flying snow people'. And he told them what the edain say, when they were little children, and said their father probably would have learned that."

Maglor is so thoughtful, he thinks, feeling a little misty-eyed. He knows that Maglor did things like that in general, but evidence of it always is so moving. Earendil is pretty sure that if they had swapped lives, he wouldn't have even thought of that, much less done it all – especially since he taught the boys of every ethnic group they were from: of Melian's maian nature, of Thingol's Doriath culture, of Idril's Noldor roots and Turgon's Gondolin culture, and of Beren and Tuor's mortal people.

Elrond has mentioned it before, asking Earendil random things about Tuor – or asking Tuor himself, who is extremely delighted to not only be asked, but that his grandson knows all about him and his culture.

"Do you think I really could be those things that he said about me?" Elwing asks him.

Hm? Oh, he realizes, she means that she could have been maybe a famous artist, or astronomer, Maglor had said, if her life had been peaceful.

"I don't know, you could try and see if you like them," Earendil suggests, and she agrees; he can tell because he can feel it somehow in the way she sprinkles some more snowflakes on top of him, making him smile. Like a private snowstorm inside a warm room.

Her snow isn't super bitter cold, just gently cold; like, refreshingly cool.

He turns his face into it more. Surprisingly, it's nice to burrow into. He wakes up later, laying on sand instead, but she is not the sand, he knows. She is already a person again and is looking at him. "Wha?" he asks her.

"Fingon is coming here," Elwing tells him. Oh, so that's why she's dressed up, he realizes.

Can you – he thinks, and it's already done, she dressed him formally by magic already. Thanks, he thinks.

There's a knock on the door, and Earendil goes down to get it. Elwing often prefers to listen in and see how things are going, and then make an entrance if they're going well.

While Earendil has spent a lot of time with Finno, trying to cheer him up before the world was remade and Maedhros returned from Mandos, Elwing only so recently has gotten to be friendly with him.

"Hello," Fingon tells him, looking in good spirits. "I wanted to ask if you and Princess Elwing wanted to go see my father with me, because it would really distract him from talking to me. We have nothing to talk about at all. And I am so very angry at him, still, but I got tired of him bothering every elf practically in existence about it due to me. I wasn't sure whether you'd like to talk to him more, with me I mean, in the sense that he's your ancestor."

"I would," Elwing tells him, appearing, and Fingon looks cheered. "But Earendil is busy and can't go see him. Really, it's not good for him to, because what if he mentions Turgon in a non-critical way and Earendil punches him?"

Finno laughs, and looks like he doesn't believe that. Which is good, because Earendil's not going to be punching anybody, much less some king that he's related to from the mists of time. Also, Fingolfin is Finno's father, and he wouldn't want to offend him.

"It's okay, I'll come, I'll just try to see Miriel instead," Earendil says, shrugging, and Finno nods.

Miriel has publically made it known that she favors the 'better than elves' people, and welcomes them. Elrond has said she's very interesting.

The real reason he doesn't want to go that Elwing knows about and didn't say is that Fingolfin doesn't know what to say to him, and so talks of Turgon, who Earendil has nothing [mostly or good, both] to say about, and also Elrond, who is hard for Earendil to speak of to a random stranger.

Elves either guess that he and Elrond rarely speak [elves think Earendil is not someone part of their society, he's aware; and also he knows that the elves think of Elrond as a great leader; whereas Earendil is a great solitary hero], or that he and Elrond know everything about each other, as if the past didn't actually occur.

Earendil kind of jealously guards everything he knows about Elrond. He won't even speak of Maglor or Glorfindel, either. These random elves don't deserve to know what they're aren't part of anyway.

So they journey out to Fingolfin's court with Finno and a few elves who come with them. "Are you sure you don't want to bring your own servants too?" Finno asks them beforehand, but they both demur.

Elwing shocks him by saying, "I don't have servants, I don't like elves."

Fingon had looked at Earendil then, askance, but he hadn't been able to help him either. "My parents' people are with them. I've never had any with me."

He and Elwing know that elves seem to adore servants – the closer to Noldor, the more they have. Elrond's Feanorean people don't seem to act the same way, but he bets that's due to Elrond and Maglor not wanting it, and ordering them to mostly ignore them.

Finno has several servants with him, and none of them know what to do with Elwing and Earendil. Most of them having never even seen her up close before.

"Just ignore us," Earendil tells them, when they look at him questioningly.

They look at her, [she's a bird currently, on his shoulder], and she nods, backing him up. Elwing's magic can do whatever they need, anyway, on the trip. The elves bow to both of them, even her bird form.

It's a quick trip to get to Fingolfin's area, and then they are in his palace. He and Elwing clasp hands with osanwe [not visibly], and then she goes with Finno to see his father, while Earendil leaves to seek out Miriel.

He finds her in a room with giant windows; servants bring him to her. Everything in her rooms seems to be made of gold and giant jewels, it's pretty wild looking.

She walks over to him when he's brought in; she uses a giant cane draped with jewels. At first he just looks at her. She really does have silver hair. This is Feanor's mother, whose loss ruined him.

"They tell me you are Earendil, son of Idril and a mortal, and the scion of Elrondaro," Miriel says to him. He nods. "You wanted to see me?"

Sire and scion are not his favorite words. He has long suspected people use that for him re Elrond because they don't want to say 'well we all know he's not his real dad, so let's not even use 'father' either.'

"I just wanted to say hello, and ask a question," he admits. "I've been trying to get to know my son, and a while ago I thought of how you must be doing the same thing. Except for how my situation is my fault. I kind of wanted to ask you for advice. If you have any ideas."

Miriel smiles at him. "You are just like Elrondaro. Come and sit with me."

As they go to sit Finwe appears, and Miriel shooes him away. "Go bother someone else," she tells him. "I need to speak to this boy."

The servants chase him out, upon her word. It's pretty funny to see.

"It is true, that I must learn of my son now, but I already knew of him greatly from the tapestries of all history, which I myself helped create," Miriel tells him.

Oh. He wasn't thinking of that.

"I forgot," Earendil tells her, feeling a little low. "Forget it."

He didn't have any cheat sheet into knowing what his kids were up to. And no, he doesn't count the praying/hearing their prayers stuff.

"Despite that," she adds, "it is still hard. I sometimes feel like he thinks I am going to be perfect, when of course I am a random elf. Just a regular person."

Earendil pushes down a laugh. "Elrond has never thought that about me."

Miriel looks like she feels sorry for him; he looks away.

"Feanaro often comes to me and we talk at length, about everything he is doing. Could you have weekly meetings with your son as well?" she suggests.

"We already do stuff like that," he explains. "I just don't have anything to say, and Elrond is so clever that I don't even understand what he works on, most of the time. We don't have anything in common."

"Hmm," she considers. "Feanaro and myself are famous for our iconoclastic streaks, our stubborn solipsism. Maybe you are similar to your son in ways that are not so obvious. You should try new endeavors together, that you have both not ever attempted. Like traveling to new places, or working on new arts."

He nods, listening.

"Let me ask you," Miriel adds. "Is it really obnoxious to be one of the few non-elf elves here in Aman? I myself am treated like a strange 'other' creature. I asked Elrondaro, and he said his people never act like that with him, but that elves outside his house do, and he finds that it makes him think of them as children, gasping as if like at a light of Feanaro."

Earendil knows of Feanaro's early famous inventions, of the alphabet and of his lamps.

"I guess so," he tells her. "It seems like the elves are all in some world that I'm not part of. You'd have to ask Elwing to see what she thinks. To me, all of us are each different, but the elves seem all the same, sometimes."

"Interesting," Miriel says. "I feel that way too. Except I have no excuse!"

"Well, maybe you and Feanor have more powerful souls than regular elves," Earendil suggests. "That would explain how you both pushed back against the Valar before, and are such individuals, and so unqiue."

"Mmmhm," she intones. "I don't know. I cannot explain our oddness compared to the rest. My own parents were not like this, nor their ancestors, I have been told. I suppose we are simply unique, an oddity in the line. Now, your wife – is it incredible to be with someone so magically gifted?"

Earendil shrugs. "It's the way she is. She's always been like that. I met her when I was a little boy. It's neat. It's just a part of her. Like how I like to go sailing."

She had been the only good thing that happened to him after Gondolin fell. That he got to meet her, someone else that was different – and she was even better!

But while she had been fun to play with, she had often fallen into long, long periods of extreme sadness and melancholy over the horror she had lived through [so far].

"I would wish to learn all about magic, if it were me beside her," Miriel tells him. "It is good she has you, who will not look at her with scientific interest."

Earendil nods. Of course Elwing would have never tolerated that; would have never married him then, if so.

One reason they had gotten married was that it honestly did seem natural – they both were each other's only friend, only confidant. In terms of rank and blood there was no one else anyway. And it did make sense, that someday they would marry. They just would have waited for a long time, that's all.

And they did love each other. Earendil had actually had boyish fantasies of her coming to where he was learning to sail with Cirdan and saying she missed him, she wanted him, in front of all the elves there. Embarassing to think about now, of course.

"I don't even know anything about science, if it doesn't relate to sailing," he admits. He had been too young for real lessons when Gondolin fell, and in Sirion Cirdan had just focused on trying to help him prepare for his infamous future holy mission.

Miriel takes him to her library and piles him up with a bunch of books. "And let us get some for your wife, so she doesn't get none," she says. "What do you think she'd like to read about?"

"I don't know … " he begins and then pauses. "What about art and astronomy?"

So she gets some books on those for him. [Elwing is pleased that she thought of her.]

It's only when they all go home and he carries them all back to new Rivendell in a big pack he can carry on his shoulders that Miriel has found for him, that he realizes what he just did.

He was given books to read and is going back to new Rivendell … which famously has the most books of anywhere in Aman.

"Okay," he suddenly says to Finno and Elwing, [she's a bird on his shoulder right now, as that makes travel faster and easier.] "Let's say Miriel gave me this bag of tomes also because she knows Elrond likes books."

"Alright," Finno agrees.

Indeed, Elrond is interested in his big case of books, and looks at them with him. "How lucky," he remarks, impressed. "She must favor you greatly."

More like pities him, he thinks. But it is nice to have Elrond look with appreciation and respect at him for it.

So then he and Elwing have to do the work of reading these books. It turns out that basically almost never doing any homework in your entire life makes it hard to suddenly do it. Elwing comes up with the idea of asking her mother to help, so then Nimloth works with both of them on their reading.

They both have terrible hands at writing, both runes and Tengwar. Elrond's penmenship looks much better than theirs – Maglor's looks like art.

Elrond asks him at times how he likes the books, and Nimloth's help makes it much easier to answer.

Elwing gets very into her books, and has Glorfindel take her on a tour of the art facilities and galleries of new Rivendell – and asks Maglor to ask Nerdanel [for her] for a statue tour, and to tell her about sculpture.

She also gets into astronomy as well.

Elrond shows her where the cosmologists in new Rivendell look at stars with great glasses in big buildings for that purpose, and she goes there with him all the time, and afterwards tells Earendil of how she's seen Wilwarin, Borgil, Nenar, Remmirath, Lumbar, Luinil, Menelvagor, and more.

"The star gazers were nice to me," she tells Earendil one day, informing him of how it's been. "They showed me and Elrond how to look and what to see."

He has no doubt that Elrond probably knows all about this, and is just keeping Elwing company as something to do with her.

Earendil actually knows a lot about the stars just due to being up there sailing before all the time, but only some of the elf-names of the constellations. He does know the mannish names for some of them, from his father. Elrond does too, he finds out, because of Maglor's work in educating him so well in about seven cultures.

"Do you want to go hear about sculptures?" Elwing asks him. She's going tomorrow with Elrond and Maglor and Glorfindel to Lady Nerdanel's sculpture workroom, to hear her lecture on the topic, as Elwing wished.

"Nah, I'll stay home," he decides, and she nods.

"Let's play chase, like we used to," Elwing says, and he agrees, and they do.

They go into the woods behind Earendil's house and she turns into all different animals, and he tries to catch her by running after her. It's very fun. They did this when they first met, too.

Seeing each other had broken through both of their grief, back then, and startled them, to see another 'different' creature, that was unlike an elf.

And then eventually Elwing and the rest go off to the Lady Nerdanel's. He's alone.

A page shows up though, and spoils [thankfully] his solitude by bringing him an invite from Maedhros and Finno, in case he would like to hang out with them. It's written by Finno, for obvious 'hand was gone before' related reasons, and in it he says that he thinks Nelyo will be sad to be without Kano, so he wants to distract him.

Earendil has heard them call Maglor that before, but only they do, no one else seems to. So he tells the page to say he's coming over.

He puts on some nicer clothes for them [he's a slob when it's just him and Elwing, she is too but since she changes her form all the time with magic, it goes more unnoticed], and walks over to their house.

Finno lets him in, and he finds that they are playing chess. "I was thinking we could play chole," he says.

"What's that?" Earendil asks him, looking over at Maedhros.

"It's like jeu de mail," Maedhros explains. That doesn't help him. "Or beugelen. Or like klosbaan."

"We'll show you it," Finno says. "Then you can tell us if you've seen it. Come along."

They both follow him out of the house, to behind it, where there are some horses for them. Finno brings a bag with him [that Elrond created] that he always has now, Earendil knows – it's for Maedhros, in case he feels ill and needs medicine right away. They all take one and ride out a ways, and then Finno dismounts, halting them.

There is a little building nearby, and Fingon goes into it, so they leave their horses and follow.

In the building are all sorts of things that must be for sport, he thinks. He does not play sports like Glorfindel does – he does it all, and loves everything from pitz on the stone ball courts to wrestling and many other ball games [on the fields, in the air, et cetera.] Fingon packs up bags for them, while Earendil asks Maedhros about different items that he doesn't recognize [that turn out to appropriately be from sports he doesn't know of, like creckett.]

"I know battledores," he tells Maedhros, "with the light, tiny shuttle. I know paille maille of course, which Elrond calls croquet. I've played shovillaborde."

But he does not know of the other ones that Maedhros lists, like mintonette or pelote.

"Take this," he says to Earendil, giving him a tall bag to carry, but not one to Maedhros.

"I can carry mine," Maedhros insists, but Finno won't let him.

"You know it pleases me to have yours," he says, and ignores his mock pleas about how he isn't letting him try. They walk out onto the field, and Finno shows him how to play this type of recreation.

"You hit the ball, trying to hit the stick so far out," Fingon explains, pointing quite far away – it is very distant from them. "And whoever hits it first wins. We must hit each our own ball, and only can hit in order. I invited you, so you'd go first typically, but I will right now to show you better."

Fingon hits the little ball with his long club, and it goes quite far.

"I don't think I know of this game," Earendil finally reveals. "I will have to ask Elwing if she's heard of it."

"I'm not good at it," Maedhros tells him, looking pleased regardless. "Finno is well skilled, though."

They play at it all day, and halfway through Finno reveals he brought snacks with him from home, and grabbed some beverages from the sport tower. "Maybe you really are a great hero," Maedhros teases him.

He hands out the little hand pies – some of meats, cheeses, sauteed vegetables, tapenades, and others of sweet fillings like fruit chutneys and sugared creams.

Fingon laughs, looking embarrassed. "Don't make fun of me in front of guests," he admonishes him.

"Can I be your friend, and not company?" he asks him.

"Why, of course you are, it's just japery," Finno tells him. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Can I count too?" Maedhros asks Earendil, and he nods. As a friend, he means. They smile at each other.

He gets home after playing some more with them, and of course Elwing is still gone. Sometimes when he comes back to his quarters, she is in his house already, playing senet against herself while reading.

He sits in the big curule seat she often occupies.

The next day he decides to go out to see Turgon – it's good to go every once in a while, otherwise the Gondolin people start writing him asking him when he will visit again. The whole thing is not really fun. Best to get it over with.

He tells Gil-Galad where he's going, before he leaves, and he suggests that he come along too.

"Really?" he asks, surprised.

"Why not," Gil-Galad says. "It could be interesting."

"But then you and Elrond are gone from here," Earendil points out. "There is no ruler here, then."

Gil-Galad looks amused. "It's okay. Finno will be enough, I think."

"If you say so," he agrees, and then waits for Gil-Galad to get ready.

Servants come with them, since their man Gil-Galad is coming, whereas Earendil always travels alone, of course.

In Gondolin they all act like Earendil is god's gift, which is so annoying. There's a reason his parents don't live there now – and why Elwing's parents didn't live in Doriath at first [instead at Lanthir Lamath], until they had to, either. [Because of her father's ascension to the throne.]

Turgon greets them, looking pleased. Earendil has heard that he is often a bit of a hermit now, with his great failures weighing on him. He knows from his parents that Turgon tried to get them to live in the new Gondolin he wanted to build when he re-embodied, but they refused, having alread lived in their house near Gil-Galad's new Rivendell for so long a time.

"How is Finarfin?" Turgon asks Gil-Galad, and they discuss the king.

No one ever really cares to ask about Orodreth or Angrod [who seems like a generally more angry elf than most, Earendil has heard.] Orodreth is known as a stuffy and boring elf who is still humilated about the whole Turin fiasco with the bridge.

Earendil often likes to ask Maglor and Elrond about other high elves in Aman at the same time, to see what they both say. Sometimes they disagree, and debate it, which is very interesting. Maglor actually lived back in the beginning in Aman, and his vantage point is different than Elrond's, who is much more harsh in his judgements.

Later on, while they talk and Earendil eats the food that's set out [not very good, but hey, it's food], Turgon asks him, "How are you and Elwing?"

"We're fine," he says.

"I can't believe you stopped sailing in the sky before, don't you miss it?" Turgon asks.

"No," Earendil tells him.

He hadn't minded doing it, before the world was remade, but Elrond had seemed to despise it and wanted him to stop. So he had, to try to please him.

"But why? It was so beautiful, to see your star before," Turgon sighs.

"It's gone now," he points out. The silmarils were broken by Feanor to help light the new two trees for Aman.

"Couldn't you just get another bright light?" Turgon says.

Earendil has to take a moment and not say anything he's actually thinking, or cuss. "It isn't needed anymore," he finally says.

Turgon, he can tell, is going to argue this. He doesn't really need to see Elenwë, since he doesn't really know her, honestly. She goes alone to visit Idril sometimes at her and Tuor's house. "Alright," Earendil interrupts. "This has been enough of a visit."

He walks out to get his horse, and only a bit later realizes that Gil-Galad is following him, behind him. "Sorry," Earendil tells him.

"It is no trouble," he answers peaceably. "I already miss our things from home. My study, our land, our buildings, the food, the routine."

Earendil agrees. Gil-Galad summons his servants, who had been eating together, and they all leave. They get out to where the horses are kept, get back on them, and ride out a little bit, and then dismount and walk to give the horses a break [since they just recently rode out there on them.]

"I'm sorry," Earendil tells the servants. "I should have warned your king to not come, since I left so soon. I didn't think of it fast enough."

They thankfully don't look annoyed. "It was a fun excursion, lord," one of them says to him. They're probably just being nice, but he appreciates it.

In Gondolin, Tuor did a lot himself, and Idril liked to follow him in this, doing many things with her own hands for the three of them. [Of course servants actually did the work, but she kind of cerimonially carried a little item a little distance once in a while to show how much she loved Earendil and Tuor, and how much she respected Tuor's custom of doing things for Earendil himself.]

Earendil stays at home after this, begging off other invites, and then they're back from their journey, the group is, of Elrond, Maglor, Glorfindel and Elwing. He can tell because he can feel that she is near, somehow. Not with osanwe really, but something else, too.

Dearest Elwing, he thinks, as she pops out of a painting on the wall inside the house. Like if a person in an art piece could walk up to the frame from 'inside' it, and climb out.

Elwing indeed climbs out of the frame and runs to him and jumps into his arms that afternoon and he smiles into her hair, embracing her.

She kisses him. They make love for the rest of the day.

Later she has to magically clean a lot of furniture in part of his house. Thank goodness Elrond gave them windows that you can see out of, but not into.

Finally they have some food sent to them, and Elwing tells him how their trip went as they eat.

"She showed me all her pieces," Elwing tells him, while absorbing-eating some rolled up little hot long-shaped sandwiches of very thin wrapped flatbread. "And said she would teach me, and them, but we all said no, and that only the top level students should even train with someone as talented as her. I don't want to take up her time, she is busy with her family already. It was really fun. Elrond took notes. She liked that. The other two were off canoodling in his room of a many many harps."

" … How much is many?" Earendil asks.

"One hundred and seven," Elwing tells him. "I asked him why he needs that many harps, and he said that lots of them were diplomatic gifts, even recent ones, so he kept them. Elrond said surely no one would care if he handed them out now, especially since he has so many dozens of harps also over in new Rivendell as well, and he looked horrified. So I think he might keep them all. He insisted that they were all different. Then Glorfindel said all harps sound the same … so then then he played and sang a lot of songs on different ones to prove he was right. Lots of elf people came to listen outside, in secret. His brothers came to talk to him but he said he was busy – I think he would have said that anyway, even if we hadn't been there."

"What did you and Elrond think?" Earendil asks.

"Elrond said the harps were different, and I agreed, and Glorfindel didn't – but it's so small a change that I don't see why anyone'd care," she says. "But I definitely didn't want to tell him that and then be inadvertently signed up for many hours of music explaining."

He laughs to himself. That does sound like Maglor.

"Elrond said I could try to do sculpture here and that he would try it too," she says. "And Glorfindel also wanted to try."

She's clearly happy about it; he's happy for her too.

"What are you going to make?" he asks her.

"I don't know, she admits. "Maybe a ghost. Or elf clothes and no person inside, no face, but standing up."

"Do you think Maglor will do a harp?" Earendil laughs.

Elwing shakes her head. "Glorfindel already said that on the way back and he said he's 'deranged'."

They all do go off and try to make statues, and Elwing tells him later, "We're all terrible at it," after one such session, but she says they all have fun at it, so he's happy for them.

He goes out often with Finno and Maedhros to play light sporting games – nothing strenuous, probably due to Maedhros' health situation.

It's almost weird, he reflects, as Glorfindel drags him through the shops on another epic quest for gifts, how he's almost busy, now.

When he's not with Elwing, he sees Elrond. Or the rest of them, and even his parents. And often his friends invite him over to do different things. Even Feanor sometimes sends him invites to see his new inventions; Elwing goes over on her own to him when she feels like it, since they work together on her inventions at times.

Sometimes he tires from all this socialization and says he already promised to do stuff with Elwing to get out of stuff with a polite excuse [he didn't, but she is always pleased by his using her as an excuse to stay home.]

"You need to see these new bejewelled quivers," Glorfindel insists to him. "They're amazing. Legolas needs one."

Earendil decides not to question that, despite never having seen Legolas wear all the beautiful jewels that elves have sent him to show respect for his great deeds in the ringbearer's company.

"I don't know what to get someone," Glorfindel adds, which must mean Maglor. "What do you get Elwing for holidays?"

"We've never done presents," Earendil says honestly. "Sometimes if one of us sees a cool shell we pick it up and show the other."

They did that as little kids, as older kids, and even recently, they still do it. It's a little thing they've always done.

Glorfindel looks at him like he just set Finarfin on fire, and gasps. "This is an emergency," he tells him. "You need to buy her some stuff immediately – you know what, I'll buy stuff and have you pick from it."

He does not listen to Earendil's protests, and so he ends up with a giant bag of very expensive presents that he brings back to Elwing. He explains to her what happened, and she laughs. "So they are really gifts to you," she tells him, at her house. "How sweet of him to care for you so. Show me them."

They both end up just looking at the pile, as neither of them have any need of items that fancy. Elwing rarely uses things, and Earendil doesn't need anything.

The rest of it just sits in Elwing's house until she suggests he tell Idril what happened and give her some pieces. "Take some for Nimloth too," he urges her, and they do.

Both elf ladies find it all quite funny, and accept the items.

Chapter Text

Elwing usually tries to mostly avoid using people's names because of a fear of affecting them with magic. But Elrond is safe from her, she thinks, and she tells Earendil, "I have tried to make you safe too. But who knows."

"Trying is enough," he has told her before.

Idril still comes to see them once in a while, mostly just socially [and seems very in good spirits], and at other times they go to Idril and Tuor's house instead. Elwing sometimes comes, and Tuor is happy to see her – his parents had tried to look after her in Sirion, as much as they could.

Idril had been the one to try to teach her things; Elwing's own people were too respectful of her power – her magic and her silmaril. The survivors had closed ranks and let no Noldor near her. They let her do nothing most of the time, and managed everything themselves, as well as a hodgepodge group of random survivors could.

But Elwing and Earendil had played together, and her people supported that, since they were clearly going to have to make a match for so many reasons [higher blood, both heirs, both young. Both ruined. Both with some terrible destiny, probably.]

And so through being with Earendil as a child, spending time with him, Idril had then had real access to her, and tried to teach her womanly elven things, Earendil knows, because she had said it was all a secret and he couldn't listen. He had been much aggrieved. [Idril had also secretly gotten a mortal woman to speak too, worrying that Elwing had no one of that race to tell her aught about that little sliver of her, in case she needed to know.]

But afterwards Elwing had told him everything, all the womanly secrets. It had been exciting for a young boy, to have such a special, amazing friend. And then to share love together, when they got older.

Idril hadn't pushed many lessons on Elwing, or Earendil neither, seeing as Elwing was often still comatose from grief and Earendil was traumatized by almost being murdered, and all that happened in Gondolin.

The few times Elwing had felt non-deadened from grief, Idril had told both of them to play outside together, wishing for them to have some good memories, instead of forcing them to do royal work or the more applicable school work.

And then Idril left, with Tuor. And no one dared try to school either of them … and then Sirion fell. In Aman, they both lived in almost total isolation for an unbelievable amount of time. So suffice it to say, they are quite uneducated compared to regular elves.

Earendil decides to do something about it. He goes to Elrond, and asks him in his rooms, "Since I had no in depth education, could you pick out what I should learn, and do you think Maglor will teach me it? I can't ask you for that, for you mustn't see how much I don't know. It will scar you for life, I'm afraid."

Elrond laughs. "It would be fine, but I'm sure he will. And I will make up a syllabus for you."

And he does.

Earendil goes to ask Maglor in person, though, just to be sure – he's out at his music building at Nerdanel's, so Earendil stops by. He has an open invitation from both Feanor and Nerdanel to come see them, kindly, so this is no surprise to the peoples there. They let him go see Maglor, and tell him where he is, and outside his music room complex are weirdly lots of elves. Not just a page of his wanting to hear him play or something, but even his brothers.

They all look at Earendil as he goes in, but do not speak. It's spooky.

Then again, elves are often spooky. Many stare at him and Elwing as if they are silmarils themselves, and not literal, flesh-y people. It's extremely uneasy feeling, and makes being out in public almost distressing, at times. So he has rarely ever gone out, not in Sirion, not in Valinor and not in remade Aman either.

Maglor is there inside the rooms, not really playing, but more like idly touching a harp once in a while as he composes. There literally dozens of harps all over; Elwing spoke truly, before.

"Hello," he says to Earendil, seeming merry while glancing at him as he shuts the door behind him. 'Is all well?' Maglor asks him mentally.

'Yes – and I think your brothers are outside,' he tells Maglor with osanwe.

'They do live here sometimes,' Maglor explains.

'No, I mean like right here. At this door, here,' Earendil specifies mentally.

"Would you like some refreshments?" Maglor asks him out loud, and then answers his mental words with osanwe. 'I know. The wicked little brutes. They make my blood boil. Which must sound strange to you, I understand. To outsiders, we are all the same. But inside our group, I differentiate among us.'

'No, I get it," he tells him. 'People used to act like me and Elwing were both similarly 'different', always in worshipful, pathetic and awe-struck ways. It was super uncomfortable.'

"I can order us food," Maglor adds out loud.

"Okay," he ventures, out loud.

Maglor calls for a page, and then details what he wants, and says he wants a paper from the cooks as well; after Earendil declines to add anything, when asked, he sends the servant off.

"Shall you like to hear me play?" Maglor inquires. "Or you could be a critic."

Earendil opens his mouth to make a joke, and then thinks better of it – the windows are all open in this building. Surely all the many elves outside can hear him. "I doubt any elf could be one, before you," he tells him.

Maglor shrugs. "I don't know, truly sometimes people with no skill in, or passion for, music can point out interesting things, you know. So anyone can be a critic, in a sense, it's just more of a diamond in the rough situation re their analysis. Did you come to hear some specific song, or style?"

'Actually … you know how you taught Elrond before,' Earendil begins with osanwe, and details out how Elrond is going to make him a learning topic guide, and he wanted to ask Maglor to teach it to him.

Honestly, Maglor is the only person who would do it kindly, and not be patronizing or pitying or cloying. He's just honest. And also nice. [He can't ask Idril or Nimloth, as he wouldn't want to burden them, and they've already always helped him so much all the time. Also, it'd be so embarrassing if it were Idril.]

"Oh, of course," Maglor replies, looking interested. "Now, obviously the most important question is, how big is the section on music?"

Earendil laughs.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask him," he says.

"Hmm," Maglor sighs. "I'm sure the whole thing will be about healing, and then five minutes about music crammed in somewhere. That will never do. You'll have to come see me for music extra. You see – listen to these two songs and then tell me what's different about them."

And then he plays, one on one harp, and then the next on another one.

It's intoxicating.

This must feel like what Melian did to Thingol, he thinks. It's funny how Elwing's magic never feels like his powerful music feels.

Her magic is natural, normal, like it's just 'more her', spilling out farther. Like if she had extra legs or something, like an octopus.

This does not feel that way. This feels like being drugged, in a good way. If feels like pure euphoria.

He has no doubt that Maglor could use this level of power or music or whatever you call it to enthrall people. And obviously he knows he can use it for violence, since all know he did before. But now instead, he only uses it to help heal people, or make them feel better.

Maglor's simply obsessed with music, as if it's food or water or something. Something necessary. His playing doesn't always even seem for the purpose of performing for others, often he just seems to want to do it just as 'art for arts sake', even if he were alone.

"Do you hear how it's different?" Maglor asks him.

"It's a different song," Earendil prevaricates.

"Yes, but the feeling is different, right?" he says, and Earendil nods.

He talks about it for a little while, using all these words to describe little things in the songs, and plays tiny seconds long snippets to make sure he's thinking of the right part.

Dude's a genius, basically. The food arrives, so he pauses, and has the pages bring it in. Maglor is more old school in this way, not like Finno. Although here he does everything the 'right' Noldor way, instead of how it is at home, where the servants don't look at him and he and Elrond pour their own tea.

Instead, here the servants do everything 'properly', and then Maglor tells them, "Go, I will call if needed. I don't want people in here."

So they leave, and the two of them look at the food.

'It's alright,' Maglor tells him with osanwe, picking up a pudding. 'But it's not as good as at home. Now that's so good that even I think about eating."

Earendil eats everything off the tray that Maglor doesn't want, which is almost everything. "Are you sure … " he says at one point mentally. 'That you don't want more?'

Maglor huffs a laugh. "I am very sure, everyone's always saying that," he says calmly. 'Don't turn into Glorfindel on me,' he adds with osanwe.

Earendil is only too aware people can hear them talk right now. Elves are out there, listening. This is why he never goes out in public.

'I guess I should go home,' he tells him.

Maglor looks surprised. "If you wish, of course."

'It's private at home,' he tells him mentally. 'It's not, here.'

"Oh," Maglor says, understanding. 'Well,' he adds in osanwe, 'I suppose I'm used to it. Being a performer, and everything. Do you mind if I go with you? I doubt anyone will hassle me with you there.'

"Who would?" Earendil asks him out loud, surprised, forgetting himself.

Maglor gives him a rueful look. 'Well, my family, first of all,' he explains mentally. 'I'm used to traveling with other people. In case somebody wants to do a revenge stabbing, I guess.'

Earendil can feel himself blanch.

"Oh I'm sure no one would waste their time anymore," Maglor assures him, getting up. "I'm small potatoes now."

That's true, he thinks. With Feanor around, Maglor isn't at the top of list, like he was before the remaking of the world.

No one had tried to hurt Maglor before the remaking, as far as Earendil ever heard. Elrond's 'imprisonment' of him probably scared them off, and satisfied the rest of them. Maglor had looked horrific before, upsetting most of Aman and pleasing the parties wronged by him.

Sometimes people sent letters to Earendil saying that sure, Elrond torturing Maglor was fine, but not forever. There needed to be some endpoint, to be 'ethical'. That he should intervene, and speak to his son. ... Sickening.

So kinslaying is evil but not torture of elves? Okay.

He almost wanted to write back and say he wouldn't condone the torture of anybody anyways, much less the only person that saved his kids [since their parents were failures], loved them, and brought them up as cherished princes.

The elves and the valar seem revolting most of the time, though, so he's always avoided everybody. Before the remaking, Idril and Tuor had come at times to Elwing's tower to try to help them both, but it had been impossible -- Elwing was not in person form a lot of the time, and so they couldn't see her or communicate [she couldn't, she was too quite literally dissolved by grief] and Earendil had been sailing. When he came back to the tower, he would tell his parents that he loved them but he needed to be alone. For a long time.

So he was.

Somehow, it was easier to bear it all, alone.

It was easier to try to keep living, if he was alone. While thinking of their little babies as tortured or totured bargaining chips by Morgoth, or in the best case scenario, dead. He had often fantasized about them being in Mandos, safe there and resting. It hadn't worked, as he knew they might be alive, suffering.

And then later, thinking of them with Maglor [who he barely knew anything about at all, other that music was a big deal with him] and hoping he was merciful to them and not hurting them -- and then hearing everyone's prayers, not really knowing what it was all about.

Being around other people had been too much during most of that. He could barely be around himself.

Elwing he knew was on the edge of death, and honestly, he felt that way himself back then. It had stung to be celebrated by the elves at the cost of his own little toddlers. But the whispers while flying had sustained him, the strange things he heard out in the sky, so he had clung to it.

It's funny now, when he randomly thinks of something random he heard from those times, because it all makes more sense. While the children had often thought cruel things at him, he hadn't cared, since anything to listen to had been better than nothing. And Maglor had comforted him even then with his prayers to him.

It had felt so nice, then, to hear someone say he was doing well, and they understood it was hard for him, but it was okay. And that everyone was thinking of him, and the children loved him.

Of course he knew that last one was more of a personal fantasy, but whatever.

Now though, it's a topic he thinks of at times. Especially when he gets sad thinking about Elros.

Earendil probably has a place of fame in elven history, he thinks, morosely -- the only elf to be as hated by their kids as much as Feanor and Eol. So hated that his kid chose death, which puts him at the top of the list. [Nevermind that he himself wanted the release of death as well, but decided to follow Elwing in the end ... whatever, he thinks determinedly.] Obviously Maedhros' situaton can't be counted in terms of his suicide.

Now that he actually knows Elrond, it's laughable to think of him hurting someone. Elrond has told him that because he's a healer, he does no fighting.

At times he talks to Maglor about it all, because he can't burden and upset Elrond like this. And also, Maglor already knows all of the story; no one else does. Well, maybe Glorfindel, and who knows about what Elrond's told Gil-Galad. But probably other than that.

"When we first met with him here," he tells Maglor one afternoon in his house, referring to Elrond, "we did terribly. At the time I was trying hold onto myself and not freak out. Elwing kept not being able to hold her person form steady, she kept disappearing; I told her to just concentrate on that, and I would do everything. Which didn't go well. We were so scared. I'd rather do some battle than have to meet Elrond as an adult again."

Sometimes Maglor comes over to his house to 'teach' him, but it's mostly just talking. He is very gentle with him, and left a harp at his domicile in case he wanted him to play while there, that way he wouldn't have to carry it all the time back and forth.

When he's not there, Earendil touches it a little once in a while. He said he could, but it still feels verboten. It feels like being close to him, almost, like a good feeling.

Maglor is a lot of things at the same time: a prince from the early days of Aman, Earendil's friend [or like an older brother who comforts him], Elrond's real parent, a famous murderer, and the most talented, famous musician to ever live. [Except for that other faded/dead forever singer, from Elwing's destroyed Doriath. Elwing once told him, everywhere she goes there is only destruction. The common denominator is her. He tried to tell her that it's the silmaril that's cursed, not her, but she didn't look convinced.]

He forgets for long swatches of time that Maglor is famous, for lots of reasons, until suddenly it's referenced, or he sees him in public where the elves all crowd him and want to talk to him about music, or he sees Finarfin almost beg him to play.

"The first time was never going to be easy," Maglor opines, sitting in a chair across a little table from him. "But that first step has lead to such a good outcome. It's so lovely to see you together."

Earendil nods.

We don't even look alike, he thinks. It's an old refrain. He shares nothing with Elrond. Not looks or anything else at all. And Elros is dead.

He knows if he said it, Maglor would say 'You are quite like him, I should know. You move all the same. Of course I think at times he is being more 'elf ruler' acting, you know. Not his real self. But I know him. And I know you too.'

But he doesn't say anything.

"Did he say we were worthless, back then?" he finally asks him.

Maglor gives him a look. "Of course not. We were busy planning for you and Elwing trying to murder me."

He laughs.

"You could probably take me easily with your power," Earendil reflects. "But Elwing has power too. So maybe she could fight, though I don't think she would. I think she would have taken the opportunity to die gratefully, back then."

Maglor looks sad for him, them.

"If only you could have adopted us, after my parents left," Earendil jokes.

Now he looks sadder. "At least everyone is together now," Maglor tells him. "I have loved both of you, here."

Idril and Tuor had been worried about meeting Maglor at first, but Earendil tried to explain to them what the real situation was. He had told Elrond they should all just announce the truth to the public -- that Maglor was his real, beloved father, and Earendil was no one to him. But Elrond had said that he counted too, and would not say such a thing, and that he knew Maglor wouldn't allow it either. And didn't Earendil know how much political power Maglor really had, if he went to use it?

So he had given up on that.

In the end Tuor had said he would trust in whatever Earendil wanted, even if it seemed crazy [like right then], and Idril had agreed.

They had come to new Rivendell and been scared, he could tell, but he reassured them that he would never put them in danger, and Elrond and he himself would be with them when they met Maglor -- and even Glorfindel, too. So they couldn't be safer.

But as soon as they'd actually gotten to Elrond and Maglor, Earendil had lost control of the situation. The two of them did some playacting situation, where Elrond acted like he had power over Maglor, and told Maglor to apologize, and then told him to play for them.

This was what they must do with the people of Olwe, he'd realized then. Put on a little reassuring show. And indeed, it had reassured his parents, to think that Elrond was in charge, who they looked at with a little awe, since he was their magical [and so elf-like, so normal, unlike Elwing; no disrespect to her, but it's the truth] grandson with his own kingdom, and seemed to have possession of Maglor.

Earendil was apparently the only person who thought that this was really, really creepy, to think Elrond was keeping Maglor as chattel.

When he had spoken with Elrond about it, though, he'd calmly told him that it was only an illusion for Maglor's safety. Because the elves had long felt bettered and bitter and violent against the Feanoreans, and this was a pre-emptive way to keep anyone from going after him -- he was the only living son of Feanor, the only available target of their pain and anger.

Now, with this theater, they had to go through Elrond first to get to him.

And Elrond'd told him back then, "All the kings here have come to me and told me they cannot abide him suffering, despite his wrongs. And I have told them he is well here, and that they can speak to him themselves, for satisfaction. And they all did, and went away, unable to convince him to leave, for now they have seen that it is not me who decides where he lives -- it's him."

That night, Elwing comes over to his house, and he tells her how his 'tutoring' went with Maglor. But she says, "Oh I know. I'm listening to it all. I liked how he said I seemed smart, and how he said you did good on your learning. And how he said he loved us. Isn't it nice to think of, being loved by an elf?"

He embraces her, trying to push his emotion down.

It is nice to think of.

His parents' leaving of Sirion had been an insurmountable blow when he was young, he can see that now. He knows they had to leave. That doesn't change how it felt, though. He and Elwing had had no one, then.

Of course Nimloth lives once more after being re-embodied in Valinor, but she hadn't for a long time. So Elwing had been alone here in Aman, and hadn't even been able to be a person, much less talk to Idril. It's like her grief and hysteria had made her into a formless puddle in the end.

During one lesson, Elwing pops into the book Maglor is using to show him something and looks out from within one of the books' images on the page. "Hi," she says, and Maglor starts, and then just stares at her.

"Is that you?" he asks her, astonished.

"Yes," she says.

"Why are you in a book?" Maglor asks her. "Is it like another land, to explore -- another world?"

"No. I wanted to ask you why your brothers are stalking you when you go out from this city," Elwing says.

Maglor pauses, and sits back. Clearly, he's thinking about it. "Probably because they think they're going to try to pretend it's back when the two trees were alive," he says. "And they think I care what they do. They can literally dog my steps, I don't care."

"Are you going to talk to them?" she asks.

"Over my dead body," he tells her. "Literally, in case they're feeling like it. But does it really count as kinslaying when it's your sibling? I feel like no. Honestly, people probably would get excited at the idea of us killing each other. It'd be called pro-slaying then or something."

"Do you want me to tell you what they think?" Elwing asks him.

Maglor wrinkles his nose. "I can't imagine it's anything an upstanding princess should hear."

"They think you won't forgive them," she says.

"Oh, good," Maglor tells her, pleased. "That's quite right. Are you sure you don't want to come out of this book? I don't think I'd prefer being in one, myself. I doubt two or three dimensional harp playing would sound as good as five."

Elwing gives Maglor her hand inside the book illustration, and he touches the page slowly, tentatively where it is, and then somehow grasps her and pulls her out.

And then she's there. "You've been studying with him all morning, can't you play music now?" she asks him.

"Of course," he says, and looks pleased. He gets his harp, and Elwing lays with Earendil on the couch to hear it.

Eventually though Earendil spends so much time with Caranthir at the parties of the dwarves that he actually gets to know him. At one event, they talk like usual in the corner, like wallflowers, as Elwing spends time with her dwarf friends [she can tell the men from women by magic, she told him, and talks to the women ones.]

"Does Maglor ever speak of me?" he asks Earendil at one of the parties.

"Oh, I don't ask him about his family," Earendil explains. "I don't really know all the old histories, totally. So he'd have to start with that and then move on to a chart explaining who was who, and what happened."

"I'm the mistake one, the uninteresting one," Caranthir tells him dully. "The rest of them are all special."

"That can't be so," Earendil says. "I think Maglor said you liked books?"

Caranthir gives him a ironic, dry look. "Yeah. Unlike the rest of them, I'm a normal person. Not really talented."

"Maybe you should talk to Elrond," he suggests. "He's got such a big library."

He does not say 'aren't those twins of Feanor's just regular people too' because he hates thinking about or talking about any twins at all. It's just too upsetting -- there's been so few famous twins in elf history, and he has to have the one that's dead forever. Well, maybe Nimloth felt the same way at first, but she got both hers back.

Caranthir looks appalled. "Maglor's stolen child? Can you imagine -- Maglor would kill me. I think he came close to gutting Celegorm at dinner once when that child was there; if mother hadn't been at the table, who knows what would have happened. And this Elrond might chop me up too, but there'll be nothing left for him -- my brother is very powerful."

"I don't think Maglor would hurt someone," Earendil reassures him, and then realizes that maybe with his own family, all bets are off for Maglor. Whoops.

He knows that he hates Feanor passionately, for example. Elrond has told him to try to never mention Feanor to him, because he might someday rush off and use magic to crush his internal organs to powder [apparently that's more Maglor's speed, with his power, than swords.]

"He must favor you, then," Caranthir tells him. "If he didn't, you'd know. Trust me."

Over years of these types of dwarven galas, he and Caranthir actually get pretty close -- they are 'party' friends, who only see each other at the functions.

Most people leave from these parties and go to new Rivendell, but not Caranthir. Maglor would never allow his other brothers [ie excepting Nelyo and Amras] to come into new Rivendell, and Gil-Galad and Elrond are on his side.

He tells Elrond about Caranthir's interest in books, and his worry of Maglor cutting his throat, so Elrond writes Caranthir a letter about it, and eventually sends him some books. Caranthir obviously only has the ones still in Nerdanel's house, not the ones he collected in Middle Earth, whereas Elrond had Gil-Galad working for him in a sense, over in Aman, collecting and ordering books copied many years before he crossed the sea to meet him.

Eventually, when many years have passed, Earendil asks him about Caranthir. "He seems okay when I talk to him at the parties," he offers. "Do you really not talk to any of them?"

Maglor looks amused. "I feel like what you're telling me is, 'hi, I'm an only child'," he answers.

"I was so lonely," Earendil says, and realizes that it's not just words, it's true. He at least had his parents in Gondolin. And then Elwing. But that's it, and no one on his journeys.

At least in the sky he was too busy feeling suicidal over how their babies would be in agony when captured or left to die, to feel lonely.

He falls into his thoughts, and suddenly wakes from the stupor of that black hole of horribleness and desultory feelings that beckon you inwards towards death, to find that Maglor has, in the meantime, laid him down on the couch with pillows, and put a blanket over him, and is stroking his scalp, hmming once in a while as he probably writes his scores [he does that all the time.]

He goes to sleep. It's just really comfortable.

Maglor has a very powerful energy, similar to his osanwe, as a separate thing, and it seems to pour over him, like dipping chocolate over a cookie. Maglor is older than him and Elwing -- much older. He can feel the difference in how his energy resonates within him at times like these.

It feels like a soothing warm bath when you want one. His energy is very different from Elwing's, which feels more like a match to Earendil's in many ways, like magnets. He knows he's a little like Elwing, in energy, except for her extra magical part; but Maglor feels very different. It must be because he's an elf, with elf magic, and Elwing is a part maia, with part maia magic.

Honestly, he wouldn't put it past him that even his murmurs are powerful enough to do something like send someone into a lovely sleep. And it feels very good, to be with someone who he can lean on without feel like he's doing the wrong thing. Maglor doesn't seem to mind, or care.

He can't do this with Elwing or Elrond, they need him to be strong and support them. He has burdened them enough.

But Maglor doesn't need him at all. He's a nobody to him, in a way; Maglor doesn't even like Turgon, and has no interest in the edain. He can be weak with him, and feel utterly safe and warm. He doesn't need to measure up, Maglor already knows just how pathetic he is, and is still nice to him, and helps him.

When Elrond met them, he really should have told them to join him as Maglor's 'fake kid', instead of them trying to be a real family apart from the Feanorean. Clearly this way is better.

Caranthir never speaks of Maglor again, at future parties. Eventually, he stops going to them.

When he mentions this to Elwing, she shrugs. "Oh, he was very angry he had bothered you about him," she tells him, to his surprise. "He went to go talk to his brother, and basically he fucked him up for it."

Earendil blinks, having not expected that. He asks Maglor when everyone else isn't there in his rooms in new Rivendell, who waves his concern off. "It's just one of my younger brothers. It's not like it's a real person."

"But -- " he says, and Maglor looks amused.

"What next, are you going to say you went and talked to Celegorm? Please lie if so," Maglor jests.

"What's wrong with the one that goes to the parties?" he asks him.

"Hmmm," Maglor considers. "How much time do you have? You have to understand, these watered-down versions of them aren't their real selves. This is after Mandos got to them. But I know who they really are. I know what they did, and what they said. Let's just say there's a reason it was Celegorm's servants in the story, famously. And there was also a reason we all lived so far apart. Though I was rarely at the Gap full time, since I wanted to check on Nelyo often, or he came to me. We kind of went back and forth together, at times."

Maglor gets up. "Let me call for drinks. If you are bound convinced to make me hear of a brother that's not Nelyo, I need wine. Maybe not even watered down."

He calls for refreshments, and bids Earendil eat as he talks, laying out 'what a little shit' his other brothers are at length. By the end he's had definitely a lot of wine, and seems almost giggly due to it.

"Will you rest here with me?" he asks him, and Maglor agrees, looking almost dopey in his light intoxication. He gets him to lay down, and sits beside him while he rests during the alcoholic haze he's in.

Basically, Maglor's issue with his brothers is that they were bloodthirsty creeps who would do anything for their father's approval, who was always gone during their lifetimes [unlike that of Maglor and Maedhros.] And also, they disagreed with Maglor's decisions as regent, with some aggressive cruel remarks, which is when he cut off all real personal contact with them, interacting only through go betweens after that, even with letters.

"Maglor," he says to him.

"Mmm?" he says, rubbing his face against a pillow on the couch like a little kid. Earendil has never seen him drunk before.

"They shouldn't have said those things to you, they were wrong. They were probably just not able to handle what happened to your brother, and everything else, and wrecked you guys' relationship as almost collateral damage."

Maglor laughs. ... He can't tell if it's due to the drinking or due to his sentence.

"It's okay," he says, "I never liked them anyway. They never appreciated music. You don't understand. If you had siblings they'd all be heroes like you, so you wouldn't get it then either!"

This is a rare moment where he's actually got it more together than Maglor, so he plays with his hair as he giggles more, still a bit out of it. After a while, he seems to feel more normal and tells Earendil, "You know what? Let's go ask Nelyo if he wants to get some candies with us."

... Okay, rain check on normal, he's not sure.

Maglor pulls him up and they go walk over to his brother and Fingon's house. "Well?" he yells at the door.

Fingon opens it and smiles. "We are coming, wait for us."

Maglor lays down on their front porch on a big couch, and Earendil sits next to him. Maedhros comes out after a minute. "You know, I always thought it was an exaggeration that you were tall and red-haired," Earendil tells him. "But you are both. Who knew."

Maedhros smiles at him, and the other two laugh.

It's the same for Maglor's music. It's easy to hear other people say 'this is life-changing', 'it's better than being drunk', 'you'll never be the same', 'he's so powerful with it, it's hard to truly make someone understand if they haven't heard it' -- but actually then hearing him play and being rocked to the core is quite another matter.

None of it compares.

"What about me?" Fingon insists, as they walk together in some direction Maglor is pointing them in. "We all know Maglor's impressive when you finally get to hear him."

"You are impressive too," Earendil tells him, and he actually looks pleased, as if his opinion matters. "I remember everyone said you were a great fighter, and wore your hair with a ribbon."

But not now, he thinks. Or before in Valinor.

"Well," Fingon admits, "I thought if I didn't wear my hair ribbons people might not know it was me. I would just be a random elf then, and as a result I'd get out of a lot of things."

All three of them look at him, bemused.

"You're smarter than me," Maglor says, laughing. "My crazy haircut makes that impossible."

"You could go as each other," Earendil suggests to them. "If you grew long hair and got ribbons, and you carried a harp, with no ribbons."

"But then people would ask me to play!" Finno demurs. "They'd know in an instant."

"I think they'd know when you got a little too interested in talking to me," Maedhros hints, and they all laugh together.

Earendil listens to them chat all the way to the kitchen areas of new Rivendell. It's fun, to have a group of friends. They don't put pressure on him if he can't think of anything to say, but he can talk if he wants, too.

"Finno, will you ask for me," Maglor tells him as they approach the sugar workrooms. This is where all the little delicate candied toppings are put on cakes and cookies and other treats.

[Yes, Earendil has not only been here before, he's been here a lot of times, because they let him try new artistic looking desserts they are inventing and review them.]

"Of course," Finno says, and goes inside first, and they follow him. It's busy inside, with elves adding fancy decorations to different sweet foods. It smells like sugar and sweets; very nice.

There's lots of icing, sprinkles, candied flower petals of all kinds, that type of thing, everywhere.

The elf in charge is one Earendil recognizes, after having come here so often. He gives them boxes of desserts to try, and then they leave, all carrying them, except Maedhros, who Fingon won't let carry anything, even as he tries to snatch one when he's not paying attention.

Back at Finno and Maedhros' house, they open all the boxes, and he thinks, this is what I wish my childhood had been like. Instead of being so alone, so 'special' and different, and burdened with the foretelling of his mission.

Nelyo smacks Maglor's hand away from a cookie he wants, and Maglor accuses him, "Impolite -- you cad."

Fingon clearly finds them adorable, and hands out things from the boxes he's opening. "Kano, surely you can spare one."

"Don't take his side," Maglor tells him. "When are you going to take my side?"

And then he throws some whipped cream at him, off the top of a big cake, by scooping it up in his hand, and it gets him all over Finno's face, who squawks in disbelief.

This sends them all into fits of cachinnation, and Fingon goes to Maglor and starts wiping the cream all over him, from his own face. "I will take your side right now. I am good at sharing, see?" Finno tells him slyly, laughter in his voice.

"Oh gross, eugh," Maglor protests, amused, letting him do it but smacking at his chest with his hands, and gets it off himself with a big napkin.

It's fun to hang out with the three of them. They three knew each other before the moon and sun were even real. Sometimes they seem like they're his age, most of the time.

Once in a while they all seem unfathomably older than him. Maglor only seems old when he plays, then he seems like an ancient master, somehow, or if he's talking about how he hates [and hated] his life before.

Chapter Text

It's funny, how it was no surprise to him that Elwing could come to him as a bird with the stone on his ship [the other sailors couldn't believe it, of course], but Earendil couldn't believe she left their little boys behind. [He knew it must be so immediately, an ill feeling had spread through him.]

He hadn't even been able to talk about it. She had been hysterical, and he had just sat there next to her, lost in his own shock and horror.

Those times are so far in the past now, but the memories plague him. Sometimes they plague her, too, he knows.

Even now she has her 'let's pretend I've been murdered like father and mother' days, where she lays in her house on the floor, still and doing nothing, and that's it. She just lays there, for a long time. He understands – he did that too on his ship very often, since there's a lot of downtime in sailing the sky, it turns out.

When Elrond finds this out though, he acts horrified, and wants to see Elwing immediately.

'I shouldn't have said anything,' he tells Elwing ruefully with osanwe, as Elrond looks her over in her house with Earendil lurking behind him. 'I'm sorry. He asked if you could come over and see him, and I said oh maybe not today, and he said is she busy, and I accidentally said some stuff.'

[Maglor came over too in case his harping was needed for healing reasons for Elwing, but he's waiting outside 'respectfully', in his words.]

Earendil feels a good feeling wash over him, and knows Elwing is saying to him 'it's okay'. That she understands that he didn't mean to let all that slip, but it's Elrond. He's hard to obfuscate with.

Elrond tries to get Elwing to try some of his elixir concoctions that do positive things. She takes one after smelling it for a long time, and then he adds, "Would you like some music? For healing? I've had it done for many elves, though I guess that doesn't really apply here, but Maglor has made me feel better with healing music many times, and I always thought it was good and helpful.'

She agrees, washing the feeling over both of them, and so Elrond calls for Maglor to come in.

Maglor looks like he feels very sad for her, that she's suffering, and then plays. It's different than usual, Earendil can tell. There's a sense that you can't think of anything else, that you're under his spell, metaphorically – and not even just in the musical sense [because it's such amazing music In some other sense], instead.

He can feel his power radiating within the room, and then suddenly, Earendil wakes up.

Huh?

He's laying down, he realize, and breathes in deeply.

Elrond is there with him, and notices that he's now alert, and says to him with osanwe, 'I think it had some positive effect on her. She is resting now. You fell asleep during it, which is natural.'

He does feel a bit good now, he realizes. Some type of feeling of being whole and restored, relaxed and calm. It's nice. He follows Elrond down into the lower part of the house. Maglor is lying on a couch in elven reverie, with Glorfindel sitting there beside him, and he waves.

Earendil raises a hand in greeting.

They go past him back deeper into the house, where the kitchen is. There is a tray already there of elven refreshments, and Elrond drinks some iced tea with him for a moment; they both sit down at the table.

"You seem like Tuor and Nimloth, to me," he tells Elrond, suddenly who looks surprised, and interested.

It's true. He has their subtle boldness, their natural sociableness, their kindness and their complete goodness. [Earendil doesn't blame Nimloth for the jewel-thievery-keeping, and Elwing doesn't usually either, instead blaming Dior.]

"Really?" Elrond comments, looking surprised, eating a cucumber sandwich. "That's very flattering. They both seem like such exceptional people. And Tuor is such a hero, like you. I don't think I'm one for heroic quests, I'm more of the 'waiting in the healing tent to fix somebody' type of person."

It's always weird when people call him a hero. Because are you one, if you abandon your family? You save the world, and ruin everyone around you, that you actually care about.

That doesn't seem very heroic.

"I'm so happy I've gotten to meet Tuor," Elrond adds, pouring himself some tea. "He has such a great personality."

"Yes," Earendil agrees.

His father does. Tuor is very personable, and the elves always loved him, he knows. He gets along easily with them. Unlike Earendil.

"I wish I were more like him," Earendil admits.

Tuor seems like a much better husband to his mother than he's ever been to Elwing. But he does inadvertently get relationship lessons by watching Maglor and Glorfindel constantly discussing each other, doing things for each other, and even arguing with each other.

So he hears a lot about it, as one might assume.

They remind him, unwittingly, to be a better partner to her. When he hears Maglor and Glorfindel arguing on whether to go to a concert the Feanorean elves are putting on of music from more obscure cultures [from Middle Earth, and it's not Maglor's music, it's normal elves' music] or to a new gallery exhibit opening in the area areas, Earendil is reminded to join her more in her passion of flying around Aman as a giant bird.

[He rides on her back during the flying.]

When Glorfindel bemoans Maglor's 'hideous clothing choices' and 'total lack of interest in fashion', he is reminded to be sure to ask Elwing what she wants for dinner all special, thought she usually doesn't care and just eats off of his tray.

And they are always either looking to each other, or Glorfindel is holding him, some part at least. Maglor often tells him to 'not be so indecent when people are here' if he is very overly snuggly, so Glorfindel at that point informs him that he's going to tell people that he sucks on his toes, just to rile him up.

… It's a good thing no one else is here to hear Maglor threaten to eviscerate him like some little game, from the forest. [Glorfindel was offended then that he hadn't called him 'big' game instead.]

"When did you meet Maglor?" he asks Glorfindel, a few days later, as they go to an art exhibit together – Maglor refused to go in protest of Glorfindel saying that experimental music is inherently worthless.

Also, Maglor doesn't seem to really be interested in this type of thing, Earendil thinks.

Glorfindel hmmms as he looks over the different art pieces. There are gold leaf paintings of classic figures in frames [even people related to Elrond; he's told the artists and singers that he doesn't want people to change the course of art and music history just because they live near him – if they want to paint or sing of Thingol or something, or even Earendil, then they should do what they want. And just warn Earendil and Elwing by way of sending a servant with a message, because they don't 'care what the elves say' anyway.]

There are all kinds of art styles represented in new Rivendell's art galleries. Some are abstract, others strange combinations of mediums. There are sculptures that look like just hairstyles with fillet and diadems [no heads attached!! He'll have to tell Elwing about this], and interesting busts of different people that look warped or altered [with little placards saying 'this is what some magic might look like, even yet undiscovered et cetera.]

It's fun to walk through these areas with Glorfindel once in a while, because he is so passionate about it all. How nice it is, to see Glorfindel so deeply enjoying himself instead of just having to be a warrior and that's all, in some frozen society where nothing happens [other than Tuor showing up; His father is indeed amazing, he thinks.]

"Well, Elrond found me when I came back," Glorfindel tells him, while staring at a piece that looks like splotches of different colors [all pastels].

Earendil always sees 'shapes' in the art, like with clouds – Tuor had done that with him as a little boy.

"And then his people came to him," he continues, going over to look at a bust of a woman that looks like it got distorted somehow [but it's on purpose.] "And we went with them to build the town Elrond had foreseen must be made. And then after a while, stuff happened, and then Gil-Galad died. But then he went to look for Lindir again, with me, and we found him. But he was dead, and his hand looked like it was … like we'd have to remove it, and we healed him forever, until he woke up, which took like fifty freaking milennia. Then I met him. I don't think he liked me at first."

"I can't imagine that," Earendil comments, as Glorfindel looks at multicolor, simplistic stroke paintings of trees and forests.

"Well, he didn't know me," Glorfindel defends. "And he was very sick. He didn't come out of his half-awake coma for a long time. And then after, he couldn't walk or do anything. It must have been scary. But he eventually liked me, even though he doesn't really need anybody. He loves music first, everything else is secondary."

"I don't think I could like anyone but Elwing," Earendil muses, as they both look at some paintings of gardens.

"Yeah," Glorfindel says, "you seem like a lady elf's man, like your father."

He nods.

Of course some elf women and even mortal women had seemed attractive to him, but he'd shied away from all of them. He didn't even know if he would die or not, given that he was some higher combination of the two races. And anyway, elves seemed so extreme, so odd.

And the mortals seemed so different, not exactly like his father or like the culture he'd grown up with, with elves all around in Turgon's hidden city. So women from both groups might superficially look good, but he was always put off, in a way. Small things, little ways they were different just made it feel wrong, weird, incompatible.

[But Elwing and him had seemed so similar; she liked all his unique quirks, and he liked hers. It had felt right, there was no gulf between them, only rightness.]

Tuor is from a staid and traditional culture; he loves Idril as the greatest of women. And Earendil loves Elwing as the most perfect of great-than-elf women. She's the only one that's existed, other than Luthien, but he is sure he'd like her more than her grandmother.

He and Elwing are the same, almost, in blood. Whereas Luthien was basically a maia with a little bit less power and a weird upbringing among elves [instead of among maiar, which might have made more sense for her.]

Elwing is like him too in that she knows what it is like to have your whole world ruined over and over and then it gets worse. And you wish you were dead.

Also, Elwing is very attractive.

She looks exactly like an amazing magical higher than elf princess should look – better than regular people, like you're pulled into to her by her appearance, so unique, deep and incredible, she draws you in just even visually, much less when they talk – she's different looking, better, refined, fancy, fascinating looking. Just like Idril looks like a mother should look: beautiful, kind, loving, reliable, safe.

She can make her hair float if she wants to, and touch him all over like an octopus. She is not like an elf. Elwing likes to do things he likes: looking at shells, having fun together, talking about how silly all the elves seem, making love all the time, holding each other while she's in whatever form she feels like taking, gossiping together, hanging out.

They are well matched in personality, too. Glorfindel and Maglor seem like diametrical opposites all the time, leading to their regularly occurring arguing. But it's not angry arguing, it's sweet talk, he can tell.

Earendil might be a disgrace, but even he knows to say 'when you're a crescent moon and hover in the sky, it's very pretty looking, much superior to the real moon,' to Elwing, like a normal lover would. Whereas Maglor and Glorfindel instead bicker and constantly go after each other like two little kittens trying to aggressively groom each other.

One time after Maglor plays, and they all sit in a music-induced pleasure stupor afterwards, Glorfindel rouses and says, "I guess that was okay."

Maglor demands he lay out his criticisms immediately. When Earendil leaves an hour later, they're still intensely bandying words back and forth, eagerly, in a weird, almost flirty way.

[It's strange to think of someone liking Maglor like that, not that he doesn't want him to be happy and have someone love him romantically; it's just his musical power is so otherworldly that he seems 'more' than just an elf.

Elwing does too, but she's like him, they're almost the same. Earendil can't imagine loving a male or anyone other than his magical Queen friend. Maybe though, because Glorfindel is an elf too, they feel very similar, so Maglor doesn't seem so different to him, despite his music power.

Maglor has a very soothing energy, so it's strange to think of him in a romantic sense, even just by knowing Glorfindel likes him like that. He seems so inherently gentle and calming that basically even Earendil doesn't want to have to see him and Glorfindel get too romantic in public. It's like seeing your parents do that; it's good that they love each other, but you don't want to see it at the same time.]

He and Elwing aren't 'debate' type people.

There had never been much to disagree about. Earendil was ordained to sail, as prophecied, and Elwing was told by the Doriath people to never give up the silmaril because it was protecting them. It hadn't really been Earendil's business, since the silmaril was Elwing's.

At first in Sirion, people had spoken with Idril and the other highest ranking elves that survived the fall of Gondolin. And then she was gone, and they all looked at Earendil like he had any idea of what ruling should be like. He was busy learning to sail and build boats for his future mission.

Again, even when Elwing showed up as a bird on his boat with the silmaril, he knew immediately that everyting was done. That it was over, for them – for the boys. Because why would she come without them, and with the silmaril? They were far from land then. And he'd been right, to his horror.

"If you couldn't be with Elwing, who would you be with?" Glorfindel asks him, as they look at interestingly designed silverware that looks barely functional.

"Nobody, I guess," he shrugs. "There's only elves, right. So I'd be all alone."

"Like how there's no other higher people like Elrond," Glorfindel notes, and Earendil suddenly feels terrible.

He and Elwing have often talked about how burdened they were by their parents, how unfair they felt it was to have higher blood. And they did it to Elrond [and Elros.]

Earendil leaves him there with the artistically designed pottery that looks weird, and walks back to find Elrond.

He finds him looking at books [unsurprising] in his rooms. "Do you hate me and Elwing for giving you your blood?" he asks him.

Elrond blinks, and looks at him, bewildered. "You mean because I had the choice?" he asks.

"In general," Earendil explains, standing back against the door.

"Well, I always thought we were a mistake, in a sense," Elrond explains, to his shock. "That you must have had children not realizing your mission was imminent, or that the silmaril couldn't be kept, since it was still stolen, unreturned to who owned it. But it was no burden, to be higher -- I didn't realize for a long time how different elves were, because Maglor has a lot of magical power, in his own way. In the elven way. And at court, Gil-Galad seemed to regard me as very wise, as did the other elves. And then I lived in Rivendell. So I never minded the choice, or my powers, or weaknesses. Maglor always said that because we were so special, with such high parents, that we would have to do extra things, and deal with more problems. Because regular lower elves had simple lives of no consequence. Like how he loved music so consumingly, so intrinsicly, almost beyond his own will; that that was the price of being a son of Feanor."

Elrond gestures for him to sit down. He does, on the couch that Glorfindel ususally occupies.

"So I thought my blood and any annoyances with it were simply due to the greater burden of being descended from higher beings, and being a prince," Elrond concludes. "Why?"

"We resented our parents very much," Earendil explains. "For us it meant a lifetime of being different. But at least I had Elwing – she too was different. I am sorry you have no one, that is different too," he asks him, grieved for him.

His son can't even pick another higher elf to be with, he has to settle for Gil-Galad, a normal elf [well, at least he's a king.]

Elrond looks surprised. "I disagree. I did have someone. I had my brother. And I also had Maglor, who is quite unusual among the elves. Few can access power in music, much less be that good at harping. People often acted like he was a maia, in terms of that. I never felt like some strange 'other' thing. I don't now, either. I am simply an 'elf'-like person that's good at magic, like Galadriel, and good at healing. And it probably is my blood, but I studied very much in those subjects. So I like to think it is me, too."

"I am glad," he tells him seriously. It's a relief, to hear that Elrond has never suffered their feeling of being utterly 'unique' and alone in it.

"I also had you both having come before me," Elrond adds. "So it wasn't like I was 'new'. People like me had existed before. Maglor said when I was a little boy that the elves justly revered my high and special parents, who had been blessed, favored by the Valar. So I always felt I came from greatness. That we were special too. And Maglor had been the son of a king himself, and told us he knew how it was hard to be away from your parents, like he had been at times, and was still, but he had known that we all have a responsibility to our people, even our parents do, too. That is the price of being princes, of being at the top of society. There are huge advantages – but huge disadvantages, too."

"I am happy you had such a good life," Earendil says, feeling that old relief again, to think about how safe and loved and pampered his sons had been.

Elrond gets up, leaving his desk of books, and tells him, "Come with me for a while. I was going to see the gaming competitions today. Have you gone before?"

"No," he says.

He doesn't really know of it; just barely. "It's quite elaborate," Elrond tells him, grabbing his cloak. "Let's go back and get your cloak."

"Okay," he agrees, and they walk to his house, only to find Elwing inside.

"If I wear a cloak, can I come too?" she asks Elrond unironically, and he says yes, and laughs.

Her cloak shimmers onto her, manifesting from nothing into itself. Earendil recognizes it; it's not something she normally wears, it's one Elrond's people made for her. She's wearing it to show him she would wear something he had commissioned for her, Earendil knows.

Elrond takes them far out into the gaming areas, which Earendil never goes to. This is where say Glorfindel goes to play against his fellow warriors in different ball games, or wrestling, or other games of chance or strength.

But today, many elves are there. Elrond takes them over onto a far hill that one can see it all from, where there are many large trees, and a lot of shade. "Let's sit here," Elrond proposes, and they sit on the ground and watch the ball games.

"Is Glorfindel playing?" he asks him.

"No," Elrond reports. "He claims it's because Maglor won't come watch him, just to tease him, but it's actually because it would seem unfair for an elf of his greatness to participate against regular elves."

Elwing stays mostly quiet during all this. She does not always talk effusively in front of Elrond, not wanting to seem un-elf-like or say something 'wrong'. Elrond may be one of them [blood-wise], but he can act just like an elf easily– he can act more elf-y than even the most classic elves. The two of them never seem to be able to.

Elrond never says anything wrong, and the elves never look at him weirdly.

The elven competition games aren't really something Earendil has an interest in, but if Elrond likes this, then he'll watch them.

"What have you been up to, mother?" Elrond asks her. "Let's lay down, I'm sure you can see all with your magic if you wish, yes."

Elwing agrees, and they both lay on the soft grass next to Earendil, who still sits.

"Nothing," Elwing tells Elrond. "After statue class I turned into a rock and sat in a river."

"Oh? Why?" Elrond asks her.

"I wanted to be a rock down there. I wish I were one," she replies.

"But then who would I go to statue class with?" Elrond questions, smiling at her.

"You like going with me?" Elwing says, surprised.

Earendil gets it. He feels the same way. It's weird when your suddenly [to you] adult child shows up and doesn't know you at all, and vice versa. And you try to spend time together, and it's very awkward, because, you know. Obvious reasons.

And you were a failure as a parent, to the point that your kid literally has another, actual replacement parent that was great.

"Of course," Elrond tells her. "It's fun. Also, if you don't go, you'd miss whatever crazy thing Glorfindel tries to make and complains about."

'That's true," she agrees.

They are so far away from the competitions that the noise of the elves cheering or clapping is very distant, a mild background noise.

"You know what's funny," Elrond adds. "I always imagined you and father in regalia. As if you were lounging at your tower with a crown and jewels on, and the same for father on his ship while fighting monsters, dressed the same. I suppose it's partially because Maglor told us stories about you both all the time, when we would ask 'what do you think mommy and daddy are doing on their adventures today'. He always described you both so … majestically, I guess I just had that in my head when we really met. I thought to myself, 'they didn't wear their jewels'."

Earendil looks away and tries not to tear up.

The wicked valar. The wicked elves; he won them their survival, and for what? For his own family to be destroyed? Literally, in the case of Elros. The fucking elves got what they wanted.

He didn't.

Elwing, neither.

It's funny how this is truly the best case scenario, and he still wants to weep. His children literally never suffered how he feared they would. Instead they got extra cookies for doing their lessons, and extra presents for learning their courtly manners well – and jewels wrought by Feanor himself, that Maglor and Maedhros owned, as holiday presents.

At least they were well, and happy, and safe. And they had people who loved them. It's just hard to be the reject parent, the 'bad' one [irony in multiple different ways], the absent one. To know that's who you are, forever.

Of course though he is grateful for how Elrond shows him with osanwe his memories at times, of his life, and also for how Maglor does it, so he can see the boys [and one is dead forever. forever] at different ages from an adult's point of view. It's like for a few seconds, he can be there, and feel like he wasn't gone the whole time. It's a nice fantasy.

"These are my ones," Elwing tells him, and Earendil looks over and sees that she magically put all her royal jewels on, with raiment, and even with a fake silmaril that doesn't really glow, so as not to alarm anybody – the real ones were destroyed by Feanor to make the new two trees.

"It all looks even better than how I pictured it," Elrond tells her, sincere. Elwing smiles at him. "But I find that I prefer how you usually look, not this style."

Elwing goes back to her normal self. She and Earendil wear dark plain clothes, usually. Really, it's almost funny how they often visually match Elrond and Maglor, in a way. Like they are a family together.

"I like how we all look alike," Elwing says. "Me and Earendil and you and him."

"Maglor?" Elrond asks, and she nods.

"We kind of do, don't we, in our matching outfits, and shorter hair, comparatively," Elrond muses. "My people always warned me to have nothing extra on that an enemy could get at, whether it be hair or jewels or any embellishment."

"I should dye my hair dark, then I'd really match," Earendil realizes as he thinks out loud.

Elwing waves at him and he knows she must have done it, because Elrond looks at him oddly, studying his features. Elwing gets up on an elbow and peers at him too.

"Mother, can you make a mirror?" he asks, and she does, and Earendil looks at himself with it.

"I look weird," he reflects.

"You look like you're in disguise," Elwing tells him.

"I think you'd still be recognized," Elrond informs him. "You're pretty tall. And a famous hero. People would just ask if you were going on a new secret mission."

"I don't want to do anything," Earendil tells them. "Never mind a real mission."

"I so envy how you both don't have to go to formal events," Elrond tells them, laying back down on the tall grass to look at the sky. "I know you have an actual reason, but it's so annoying to get dressed up and talk to the powerful people. I wish I could get out of all the social calls I have to make, and take, too."

"Is the reason people don't like me?" Elwing asks him. Elrond looks over at her, concerned.

"Of course not," he dismisses. "Everyone respects you too much to bother you with their unimportant elven nonsense. From me though, people think they're going to get gossip about Gil-Galad, or Glorfindel, or my people, or even Maglor. Sometimes the elves just want to try to bargain with me so that they can hear him play. It's … off-putting."

"I don't think I really respect me," Elwing tells him, looking a little morose. "I don't know why the elves do."

"It is the same for me," Earendil says, wanting to be honest and also wanting to back her up, and he can feel her feelings of 'thank you-relief-romantic love' wash over him.

Elrond sits up and scoots forward, turns around and looks at both of them. "I respect you. Both."

"But all we did was what the elves wanted," Elwing points out. "And we ruined everything. Over and over."

Elrond shakes his head. "I believe that was the divine plan, for everything. If I hadn't been at Gil-Galad's court, and then built Rivendell with my people, I think it possible then that the ring would not have been destroyed. It was all a perfect confluence of events, that lead to that. Even tiny details mattered. Everything happened as it should have. I know when I got here, I was … just so tired. I wasn't very cheerful, when we first talked, those first years. But I feel better now, rested."

"I feel that way too," Elwing tells him, and Earendil nods [he agrees with her, and also feels that way himself, as well.]

"I'm happy about it," Elrond says, and Elwing looks pleased, relieved.

After a while they all go back to their houses, and later that day Maglor comes over to see him, for his 'tutoring/school' time. Though he has a feeling it's much more ephemeral and insubstantial than Elrond's actual schooling [designed and executed by Maglor] was.

Maglor has him read simple, very short chapters about a topic, and then he comes over and talks about it. And then he asks Earendil what he thinks about it, in general. There are no tests, no work, no studying.

It's probably really a waste of time, for both of them, but Maglor seems to be pleased doing it. He checks with Elrond, who confirms this.

It's just fun, to be honest.

Some of the 'subjects' are truly strange, like: what inventions should the engineers work on next [Elrond's opinion can't be trusted because he'll only pick ones about healing], dreams, what books are the best of all time, the best songs to sing [or listen to someone sing] while horse riding, what's the best holiday out of all of them, which ancient elven leader was the best, tengwar versus runes in terms of which is better – even though the runes were created by Daeron, what a tragedy, sigh.

"Well," Earendil asks him during one such session. "It seems like you have no choice but to make up your own alphabet, since your father made one and a famous singer made one. Being both of his blood and a singer too, this seems like a reasonable expectation."

Maglor is amused.

"In that case, I expect you to discover a magical land of higher beauty and have incredible foresight," he counters. "So … I guess just go to Valmar – and tell them they're fools while you're there."

"I don't think they're worth my time," Earendil tells him, enjoying how they both dislike the Valar.

Maglor seems pleased with him, and plays him extra music when he asks to hear a song.

It can be strangely embarrassing to ask to hear him make music; it almost seems, feels, so special that it should be reserved to special occasions or something. Actually though, Maglor doesn't feel that way, and plays all the time, and doesn't appear to mind if people ask him for it.

Maglor even plays often at formal gatherings, still.

Once in a while, everyone goes to some event put on by Finwe. No one tells Earendil he has to go, but it feels weird to watch them all get dressed and leave, with him staying behind. Even Maglor goes at times, refusing to dress differently than his plain clothes, despite Finarfin and Fingolfin asking him to [and bringing him gifts from their people that he could use.]

"Well played," Maglor tells them, looking displeased. "But I couldn't possibly not reflect my repentance in front of your two groups, who my group hurt. I will however put a little piece of cloth to my harp with some of your jewels pinned to it, so all can see your … magnificent gifts."

Earendil has a feeling that that's some kind of insult re how amazing Feanor's jewels are. [He gave him a few, and he's seen the ones Elrond's group has, they are incredible.]

The two kings act like Maglor and Nelyo are kings [still] too, really, Earendil notices. No one seems to care about the other sons of Feanor, in terms of speaking to them.

Finarfin keeps arguing, but Fingolfin gives up because Finno notices what's going on and comes in to glare at him.

No one tells Earendil to leave the room during all this, so he kind of awkwardly continues to sit there [the kings politely greet him, and he nods, and then they try to convince Maglor to do whatever it is.]

And then they all get their overcloaks, and get ready to leave.

Maglor takes forever to get ready, as he has to pick what harps he wants to bring, because obviously at any event he's asked to attend [and goes to], everyone wants him to play. So for him it's more of a performance with some other nonsense, whereas everyone else doesn't actually have to 'work' at these elf gatherings.

He's asked him if he resents it, but Maglor says he actually prefers it to just 'standing around and listening to boring nothings'.

He goes to look into Maglor's harp room [here in new Rivendell, not his other one in Nerdanel's estate], passing by Glorfindel in his many closet rooms. This harp room of Maglor's is devoid of decor and just literally filled with different types of harps; you can barely even walk in, because they are everywhere, all diverse styles of lyre style instruments; some Earendil personally wouldn't even call harps. Many Elrond had made or bought for Maglor because they were the 'harp' instruments of other cultures in Middle Earth, as curiosities.

Maglor has put some different sized and shaped harps already into the hall, for his servants to carry with them.

"Elrond told me to tell you that he's leaving without you if you and Glorfindel don't get ready faster," Earendil reports to him, which Elrond had indeed told him to go say. [But not to Glorfindel, because rushing him makes him say he has nothing to wear and has to repick out his outfit again totally.]

Maglor looks amused, hearing this, as he stares at different harps.

"If I had a jewel for every time I heard that," he says, smiling a little. "I'd have a big ocean of them. Well, just this one more, I think." Maglor picks up one more harp, puts it in the hallway, and walks off. Earendil follows him.

"The easy way to get Glorfindel done is to say I'm already ready, that I've beaten him at it," Maglor informs him, amused, as he goes and puts on his overcloak.

He looks at Earendil. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? The food is okay – passable," Maglor tells him.

Only he, one of the original and oldest princes, would call the food of Finwe's royal palace just acceptable, Earendil thinks, amused.

"I don't know," Earendil finds himself saying, and realizes that yeah, he kind of does want to go.

"You know you always can," Maglor says, putting on his 'outdoor' shoes, and laying his little traveling harp, on a long strap, over his shoulder. "You could grab one of Glorfindel's cloaks, he'd hardly mind. My god, he's got thousands."

"I would like to," he decides.

Maglor says okay, just acknowledging his decision, and Earendil calls for a page to leave a note [that he hastily writes right now on Elrond's desk] in his house, that way Elwing will know what's happening.

"Shall I tell Elrond you are coming?" Maglor asks, getting up.

He nods. Sometimes it's easier to have Maglor as a go between with Elrond than to actually talk to him himself. It's gotten easier over time, but it can still be a thing he hesitates to do.

He realizes on the journey that he and Maglor are the only people not totally covered, swimming, in jewels. Thank goodness it's not him alone, he thinks. He hates to give the elves even more reasons to find him 'different' and weird.

When they get to Finwe's, he greets them formally, and Finarfin and Fingolfin are there too, with Feanor, as a united group of 'Finwe sons'.

Then their courts talk to everyone who's arrived. Galadriel is already there, and comes over to Earendil, who stands in a forgotten corner, just observing it all. Unfortunately, at soirees like this, Maglor can't stay and talk to him, as all the elves want to engage with him extensively.

Same for Elrond and Gil-Galad, and Glorfindel is always surrounded by sighing maidens and people [read: many] who think he's gorgeous and amazing constantly.

"Lord Earendil," Galadriel says, and he tips his head to her, because the elves like that. "How nice to see you. I rarely have other people to talk to, who are not part of court already and just want to blow smoke."

He tries not to laugh, and she smiles. All the elves hold wine glasses. He has one too, though he doesn't really like wine; but he doesn't want to ask for something he would drink, because then he'd be the only odd one out, like usual.

"Have you met my husband?" she asks him.

Earendil does not ask if she and Celeborn were at Sirion, because he can't remember. He was busy constantly with ships and sailing, back then, or else alone with Elwing or his parents. When Galadriel has invited him to go see her new Lothlorien here in Aman, he spent all that time with her alone, as her guest. He doesn't think her husband was even home then, not that he would know.

"Why don't you have me say hello, and kind of not say anything about whether this is a new introduction or not," Earendil tells her, and she agrees, seeming to understand, and smiling.

And so he meets Celeborn.

The elves at the party all wear extremely heavy jewels and many layers of robes, but his clothing is more simple, as is Galariel's, and Earendil's own group too [like Fingon, Elrond, Maglor and everyone.]

He has no idea what to say to Celeborn. Actually ...

"Can I ask you a question, I suppose it's rude though," he says to him, and Celeborn looks amused.

"Of course. I get quite unbelievable questions all the time. Mostly about how powerful my wife is. And how I could have tarried after she arrived here. People seem to think she's some ainur, at this point. I try not to dissuade them, at times, but I don't want them all looking to her to do more than she can, on the other hand."

"Why are you called the 'the wise'?" Earendil asks him. "Is it in general, or about a specific thing?"

"Well," Celeborn says slowly. "Most called me that due to me disagreeing with someone ... about their choices. Early ones, and later ones, like keeping something. Somewhere. And making a necklace with it."

"Oh, I see," Earendil says, understanding. Celeborn disagreed with Thingols' mad and foolish decisions, he means. "Do you go to these events all the time? What are they like?"

Celeborn nods. "Yes, because the king, Galadriel's father, wishes us to. I think the elves who stayed here like to talk to us all, as our lives were so different from theirs. We seem to be people of interest for them. And of course her father missed all their lives by turning back and staying here, so he is eager to spend a lot of time with his children."

Earendil understands. He has moments like that too, when he hears about all the things that Elrond and Maglor and everyone did while he was sailing in the sky. Especially with how he missed most of Elrond's life, or rather all the important parts.

"How are you faring, Galadriel has said you live in new Rivendell, yes?" Celeborn asks.

"Yes," he agrees.

"What do you think of Elrond's book collection?" Celeborn queries. "I know my wife's relatives all sent Gil-Galad books for him, before he crossed the sea to come here."

Earendil thinks the word 'collection' is a little inappropriate now, since it's more of a 'dragon hoard', except not gold but books, at this point.

Admittedly, it is very organized. He's been in new Rivendell's vast libraries, mostly to just see them in general and also look at the ships section [elves always offer to show him where it is, if they see him in there; he lets them take him, even though he knows where it is at this point.]

"It's nice," Earendil answers. "I have only really read a few books on sailing, though, from his library. … If this place has one, I may have to go hide in it at some point. I didn't realize there'd be so many elves here."

There are just so many of them, everywhere. It's really quite crowded, for a royal palace.

Celeborn considers this, drinking some of his wine. "Mostly everyone just gossips and drinks and then later there's dancing with music, however with Maglor here I assume he will be asked to play instead. I doubt anyone will bother you if you do go to see the books. Sometimes elves go off and engage in different diversions, from cards to light sporting pursuits. We could always have a card game in a private room, to get you out easily."

Earendil nods, still holding his untouched glass.

"Can I ask you a question, in turn?" he says, and Earendil nods again. "Is it true, that you are friends with Maglor?"

"Yes," Earendil explains. "He has been a great help. In a lot of things. And he doesn't blame me as much as I deserve, for all my mistakes."

He'd been afraid of that; Elwing too, since Maglor was the 'mother their children never had', practically. Earendil, back then, had eventually realized that if Maglor really did love the children truly as much as a real parent would, that he would look upon them [the real parents] with abbhorence, that they abandoned the boys, during a war -- during a battle, even.

He had feared Elrond's judgement of course, and then realized that Maglor too would naturally disdain him. And all the elves, et cetera. But the normal elves don't seem to get that he's not a hero. He's almost thankful, but he's not.

Maglor had instead defended him, to him, he himself. It did kind of feel nice, to know at least someone understood the whole thing and yet still chose to say that Earendil wasn't a failure.

Celeborn looks surprised, and gets a new wine glass from a passing servant, exchanging glasses.

"Would you prefer some other drink?" he asks Earendil, who demurs. Again, he doesn't want to be the different one, that stands out. Better to just lie and 'fit in' as much as possible when around elves.

Of course Elrond always seems to act elf-y and never have this problem, which is a relief to both him and Elwing, that the struggle isn't there for him in that way. They now have realized they dumped their burdens on their children by having them, without even realizing it, despite resenting their higher blood and higher destinies.

But Elrond has told him he does not resent them for it, so that's a relief.

"I think it is excellent that Maglor is said to play for the people of Doriath, especially," Celeborn tells him, now drinking from his new glass.

Elrond steps up to them, suddenly, though, forestalling Earendil's answer.

"Father, I wanted you to try this specific item -- hello, Lord Celeborn. I must borrow my father for a moment," he explains, and Celeborn agrees.

"Of course, my friend. I hope you enjoy this gathering," Celeborn tells Earendil, and he leaves with Elrond, following him. He takes him into a side room, where Finno and Nelyo already are.

"This is a new juice that Finarfin's people have invented, so we all were going to try it," Elrond explains. "It's safe because we have such plants in Middle Earth, and I've had the fruit before, with no ill effects."

It's a surprise when Elrond comments on 'food safety', that wasn't a thing he or Elwing have ever thought of. He should be used to it by now, really.

Elrond seems to think of it often, and he and Maglor have mentioned it to both of them [the non-elves]; when they eat, either of them ascertain first what is used, for their safety. Elrond talks to the cooks, and Maglor when at Nerdanel's has his mother's cooks bring him a written note of everything put in the food for him to review first, before they give the trays over.

Elrond has told him the elves believe that he and Maglor are simply over the top in making sure the food is quality and done right, not understanding the more esoteric real reason.

Finno pours them both glasses, and they try it. "It's good," Earendil comments. Elrond agrees, and says so.

"It's so sweet," Finno tells them. "I'm not sure I prefer it. But it is alright. Nelyo, what are your thoughts?"

Maedhros agrees, and backs him up re sweetness. "It is rather saccharine, indeed."

He has a very quiet voice compared to regular elves, seemingly due to his torment, Earendil assumes, despite the remaking.

"What do the elves in general think?" Elrond asks him. Fingon discusses it with him; apparently some like it, but mostly they all find it very sugary and cut it excessively with water or something else.

"I wonder if mother would like it," Elrond says to Earendil, "we must take her some. And the ringbearers."

Fingon calls a page and orders it done. "You are in the house of Fingolfin, after all, partially," he tells them, happy to do it. Fingolfin and Finarfin always share auspices, nowadays, Earendil's been told. "We don't want to not be known for our hospitality."

Elrond thanks him, and they all talk and try the hors d'oeurvres together. They aren't like the ones at home, at new Rivendell.

These aren't as good. There's tapendade, stuff on endives, gougere puffs, paté en croute, stuffed mushrooms, crepes.

Maglor of course is impossible to talk to at events like these, as all the elves want to ask him about music, about Elrond [is Elrond still hurting him?], and about if he will play for them.

Later, Finarfin announces that Maglor will play, only after the dancing, because he wants that to happen first, while he goes over into another part of the palace to practice before he himself performs [greatly pleasing the actual players of the royal court, of course, who fear to play before him and also fear their potential him-caused obsolescence.] This delights the crowd.

They are all nobles and royals, of course. Earendil spent a lot of time with lower elves [and men] while working with Cirdan to learn sailing, and then while sailing the waters.

[Elwing may be a princess or queen, but first she is his special friend; his specialist lady. That before being a royal, in terms of how he thinks about her.]

Here too now, in Aman, he has spoken with regular Feanorean elves in new Rivendell many times. They are the elves that run everything and do everything -- the fish pond maintainers, the people who keep the animals for their raw materials for textile work. The pages who bring him trays of food, and take the dirty dish trays back.

He has even seen the elves that wash dishes, and the elves that clean the bathtubs. Sometimes they seem more mannish and talk to him casually, instead of the way the elves often treat him.

Earendil stays with Maedhros and Finno, who seem not to mind, and even fend off Finwe when he comes by and wants to ask Earendil a lot of questions that he doesn't want to answer. [They are both very aggressive with him, and he is easily daunted by them, it seems. They are his grandsons, after all, Earendil thinks. Also, his bullshit ruined their lives, et cetera.]

And then finally, after Maglor plays [it was amazing, like always], Maglor comes around and gathers them up, their party specifically, and they follow him out in a daze, towards home.

At home there is what Earendil thinks of as 'real' food: many diverse flatbreads with meat and other toppings, roasted vegetable skewers, fried panisses with condiments, scallops wrapped in bacon on the halfshell, meatballs with cheese, lots of potatoes cooked in different ways with different sauces, grilled nectarine with fresh goat cheese on thick slices of toasted bread. Also, sweets, and juices and milk.

And it's there waiting for them, when they get back to new Rivendell, which is lovely, because elf parties usually serve little appetizer bites and not real, hearty food. Which he often prefers, really.

There is always extra food [that is not switched out for new styles of dishes or something like that, which is how it all works typically] that Earendil eventually realized was really for Maglor, in case he was in a rare eating mood: many soups, many soft puddings.

While they all eat together, Finno asks Maglor, "What were you really doing when you went off to 'practice'?"

Maglor makes an amused noise as he drinks a cocktail with lime of some kind. New Rivendell has mixed drinks, all fancy inventions of the chefs. Earendil usually doesn't have them because they are serious alcohol.

"I was gambling with grandmother," Maglor tells them, and everyone reacts. Some can't believe it, others are laughing. "She won a gold coin off me. "

"Poor Kano," Finno says, and smiles.

Maglor and the other royal elves, Earendil knows, carry things like gold coins if traveling or out, because they give them to servants sometimes.

He has even seen Maglor and Elrond do it -- Elwing and Earendil have never done that [if he's out with the group, he's realized others of them surreptisiously give out coins 'for' him, on Earendil's behalf, without bothering him about it. [Very nice of them.] Elwing told him that when he was out sailing, she was with Idril; and when Idril was gone, she was alone, by choice [no servants or coins ever].

Chapter Text

Elwing still will not talk to the people of Doriath -- including the ones who saved her life and the silmaril, when her parents were dead, or dying.

She has told them before, [she conveyed to him], when they have tried to speak to her in Aman, that they are evil for not letting her die too with her family.

Now though, she's told Earendil that she is happy she lived. But it's hard to walk that kind of talk back, after you say it. So as one can imagine, she naturally asks Earendil to tell them she's recanted her old words.

"Don't you think I have to tell Elrond, though?" he asks her. "Since he's the one doing the diplomatic stuff with them."

Elwing understands, he can feel her emotion of it wash over him, despite her being a little apple on the counter in his house.

"I'll go see what he says," Earendil acknowledges, and goes to do it.

He finds Elrond in the healing halls, working on someone's sprained arm. After they are healed, he walks down with Earendil on of the smaller, less traveled lanes.

The healing areas are high up, almost on little hills, and Elrond and the healers' clothes are a strange white hue that they only wear in that complex, and nowhere else. Elrond changes his clothes first, before he started walking with him.

He explains the situation to him. "So when I speak to them next, I should ask for the ones who took her out from the city, and tell them that. But if they want to talk to her now, I should say she does not wish it, right?" Elrond inquires.

Earendil nods.

Elwing hates any mention or reminder of Doriath. Lanthir Lamath is fine to talk about, but that's it.

"Does she want this done now and over with, or should it seem 'natural' and randomly mentioned?" Elrond asks.

"Done, I think," he says.

"Alright," Elrond decides. "I will call for them to listen to Maglor play, and beforehand ask Melian for these people to be come specifically. I will go speak to Melian."

They part ways, and Earendil doesn't ask how he speaks to the maiar. He assumes it's by praying. As one can imagine, he and Elwing don't pray to anyone, though they both like Ulmo. Elwing used to be angry he foiled her suicide attempt, but she eventually forgave him.

Elrond shows up at Elwing's house later that day while they are just sitting doing nothing together, peaceably, after having made love earlier. [They are freshly re-dressed, but Elwing magically changes their clothes even again, out of nerves, he can tell.]

"Oh good, you're both here," Elrond comments, upon seeing them, and coming inside. "It turns out this is easier than I thought, because the people who saved you, mother, are not with Melian now. They don't live in new Doriath. They actually live out with Thranduil. So I'm going to ride out there and talk to them. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you," Elwing tells him. "I'm not good at being elf-like, and talking to them, like you are."

"I don't think you're bad at it," Elrond says, tilting his head and looking at her. "It's just that the elves are so limited, so insular. They rarely have ever engaged with other groups, and even then, not always well. Few elves have real curiosity or are academics. And so we have a general elf population that is deeply simple and unable to process other types of beings or behaviors. Even among the elves, they seem to dislike each other's cultures."

Earendil knows of this -- how the 'lower' elves like Thranduil and his people and the 'higher' elves like the Noldor are not on the same page.

Sometimes when elves talk to him, they even will mention how he must 'blah blah blah' because he's part-Noldor [by Idril] and grew up in Gondolin. They don't really know Tuor or about him, so they don't mention him or his culture.

And he's heard people speak of Elwing before, saying she's clearly 'etc etc etc' because of her heritage from Beren, Thingol, Nimloth and Melian. Three different ethnicities: the maiar, the humans and the elves [Thingol's type of elf is a little different than Nimloth's type, they've told him.]

"I'm sorry I didn't go to the shore, when you came," Earendil says, a propos nothing. "But I was so afraid, of your anger. And there'd be all the elves around too, to tell me I deserved it."

Elrond gives him an emotional look. "I understand," he finally says. "My motto is, fuck Thingol and Finwe too. And others, but then it would be a long list. Not really the right length for a motto."

"I hate Thingol too, and the other one," Elwing agrees, excited by any commonality they have.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Elrond says, and smiles at her. "I've hated them since I was a little boy, and realized what they did."

"Did Maglor defend Finwe, since he's his grandfather?" Earendil asks him.

Elrond laughs. "Oh no," he explains. "He was very aggressive in his criticism of him. But he always taught us every perspective. Like a kaleidoscope. He told us what every different group thought, and then what he thought. And we could decide our own feelings. He did say Tuor basically seemed flawless, though."

They all smile, at that.

"I like Tuor," Elwing says seriously. "He never acts like an elf. He never thinks I'm weird."

"Me too," Earendil agrees. "I am lucky."

He was better off than Elrond who has Earendil as a 'real' father [who wasn't even there; though at least he has Maglor as a true parent, who was great], and also than Elwing [since Dior ruined her life.]

"I asked Tuor if I could be his daughter too, and he said yes," Elwing confides in them. He isn't surprised; Tuor heartily approved of her as Earendil's future wife, as did Idril. They had liked her, and how unique she was, even personality-wise.

"I am jealous," Elrond tells her. "How excellent, to have his favor. He has good taste. Actually, I better send a runner to Thranduil, to see if today's a convenient time for me to visit. Let me get a page."

He goes out and does so, and when he returns, he tells them, "I was actually going to stop by and see Galadriel as well in a few days, in case either of you want to go. Mother, I am not sure how well you know her or not; I never asked her where she was at different moments in history, in case she went through difficult times."

That is, was she at the fall of Doriath? Or in Sirion ... or at the fall of Sirion.

"What would we wear? I don't know if I know her. I can't remember a lot of things. And I don't want to look in my memory, I usually try not to. I don't want to know of anything in the past. I have tried to forget. I'm afraid I'll get too stabby," Elwing tells him straightforwardly.

"Towards others or yourself?" Elrond asks her, worried.

"Me, mostly. ... But others too, depending on who they are," she says.

"When you do, I have a medicine that works to lessen that feeling," he suggests. "I can leave some with you, and if you feel that way, call for me or drink some on your own. I have taken it myself, even, when very upset, and it does offer some relief."

"You've taken it?" Earendil breaks in, surprised.

... Oh wait, Elrond had loads of terrible things happen to him. It just sounds strange because of how he often seems so utterly composed and regal and and and. And everything. Unlike Earendil and Elwing.

"Well, Gil-Galad died, and I was extremely depressed," Elrond explains. "I was in shock, really. Glorfindel too. Eventually my own healers asked me what I should take as medicine, and I decided, and took it."

"I remember you when you were a baby, though," Elwing says, seemingly continuing her earlier sentence. She does that, jumps around in linear time. Elves don't do that.

"Was I annoying?" Elrond asks her, looking amused.

"No," Elwing tells him honestly. "The nurses never thought that. Sometimes I watched you play with the dead one. I didn't want to touch you and hurt you; everything I get near is always destroyed. So I spied on you instead. But sometimes I turned into floating stars and floated above you, and you seemed like you liked it. You pointed at it, and looked at it."

Elrond looks at her, astonished.

Usually, they both don't really talk about how they were so scared to accidentally make a mistake with the children.

"Can I see it now?" Elrond asks her, looking almost excited. "What you looked like, the floating stars."

"You should lie down, cause you were little before, then. I can't imagine me ever being little. But I must have been, I guess," Elwing agrees, and he does.

Earendil does too, and he doesn't criticize it. He just wants to see it too, that's all; since he was gone sailing, he didn't get to see much at all either.

The room suddenly does not contain her body, by her power, and then there are stars above then, higher up in the air. Twinkling gently, sparkling. Nothing like the rabid glow of the sillmarils. Just soft light, floating around, as if these stars are alive somehow and are hanging out and relaxing with their star friends.

They look better than diamonds, not that Earendil's ever loved jewels, or the restrictive heavy, prolific jewelry and clothes of the elves. Sometimes he honestly feels like Tuor is more of an elf than he is, in all the ways that matter.

Elrond starts laughing gaily, and exclaims, "How incredible. I love it. I suppose I must have loved it then as well, just the same. Thank you for showing me it."

Elwing is very happy now, he can feel it. It spills over him like when you get into some water and it gets you all wet. He feels happy for her happiness.

"How lucky I am, to get to be able to know you both," Elrond tells them. Elwing stays being the stars. "Can I hug your stars? Or are they insubstantial, in terms of real matter?"

"They can be anything," Elwing tells him. "But you can hold them, if you want."

Elrond sits up, and reachs out and takes one into his hands and holds it to his chest.

"Maglor had little star pillows, like soft toys, made for us when we were little, after the silmaril was put in the sky, so we could feel more close to you both," Elrond tells them. "He also had little bird ones made for us too. So it was you and mother. He said you would both know we were thinking about you, because you had magical powers. It took me a long time to realize that might not be true, ha. I used to hold mine when I went to sleep, after he read me my bedtime story about the happy friendly leaves. Elros liked the story of the messy room child elf, as his pick."

That is both the saddest and loveliest thing Earendil has ever heard. It's so moving and everything is just so tragic.

Elrond comes to him and hugs him too, as he weeps, still holding a 'star' [ie, Elwing in that form]. "Well, this seems just like then," he confides, kindly. "Except you're both your real selves instead of stuffed little animals."

"Can I see what they look like?" Elwing asks him, from her star form.

"Do you see it in my mind already?" he queries, looking interested.

"I try not to look deeply into minds," she explains, "in case it makes me sad. Even mine. Or in case you get angry if I look at yours."

"Go ahead and look," Elrond says, and suddenly even Earendil too can see a little fancy bed, and pillows, and some little objects too, there -- the toys, he realizes. A little star with a smile on its' face in thread. And a little bird with a smile too. That's them. Earendil-as-star and Elwing-as-bird.

"I actually had a ship too, a toy like those," Elrond adds, "but Elros really liked his so much, so I gave him mine so he could have two. And he said I could have his star and bird, so I put them in my jewel chest for safekeeping. I kept them until the material naturally degraded into dust. It was hard to throw away the dust; I mean it was unrecognizable then, of course. But still. It was something special."

"I wish I had some," Elwing tells him, surprising both of them. "I can't remember my toys. I know Idril gave me some. I like her. And Tuor. But I couldn't play with them then, I was too sad. I can't remember before, and I don't want to, anyway."

"I'm sure Maglor can have some made for you too," Elrond jokes, and Elwing feels happy at his kind words, he can tell.

And then some weeks later, pages bring boxes to Earendil's house ... and there are soft toys inside, for both of them.

There is no star or a bird, like Elrond and Elros had.

Instead, Earendil gets some 'waves' [like water, but represented as a stuffed toy, despite how weird that is], and a swan of course re his father, and nature-focused ones [like a leaf, a tree, a rock, etc], and some little baby animals ones, like bunnies and the like.

Elwing gets stranger ones, hers are more odd.

She has ones that are clouds [some fluffy and white, some gloomy like rainclouds], ones that are strange blobs in odd shapes that she tells Earendil are supposed to be the 'cannot be seen by the naked eye' different types of cells that make up the body of elves, some of ancient no longer existent animals [in the sense that none live in Aman for some reason, but did live in Middle Earth, in the early beginning times], some ones of foods like pancakes [a separate bunch of them that you can stack if you want, with a little thing that Elwing shows him -- it's a stuffed toy syrup pouring jar to go with them.]

They all have little smiles on them, with thread, even the ones that shouldn't have smiles [like the rock one, or the cloud one.]

Elwing puts them on all the chairs throughout her house, as if they are people occupying them. He puts his in his bedroom, all next to each other. They are very cute.

Elwing loves hers, and tells him they were made with multiple love. Apparently all objects radiate an aura, and she can sense it; Earendil can't really tell things like that. But even he feels touched when he sees them, to think Elrond and Maglor too cared enough to even bother, much less commission custom ones for them.

When Maglor next comes over on the pretence of his 'schooling', he asks him about them, and he smiles.

"Yes," he says, taking a seat with Earendil in his houses' drawing room. His house has a lot of rooms -- a library, obviously, since Elrond had it built for him, and many other extra rooms, like a conservatory. Sometimes he sits in there with the big plants and just exists [servants take care of the plants for him.] "Elrond asked me what I would have chosen for you both. So I thought about it, and designed them."

It's not like Tuor and Idril hadn't given him lots of things as a boy, but his childhood was truncated by the fall of the city, and after that he was busy working on learning sailing at all times. So in a weird way, it's kind of nice to have these.

Of course it's also nice because Elrond thought of him and Elwing at all, and wanted to do something nice for both of them. And the same for Maglor doing the actual work of it, since he's the one who had ordered the original toys for the two children.

He doesn't know what Elwing had in Doriath. In Sirion she had things, but they were relics saved from her fallen city, not items appropriate for her age. Idril had given her things back then, 'diplomatically', so that Elwing's Doriath people couldn't try to say that she shouldn't accept items from the Noldor. Mostly they were little items, and then womanly things, as Elwing got older.

Maglor purses his mouth funny. "How dearly I wish we could be friends all fresh, without our history," he tells Earendil. "And Elwing too. But instead the past is real. What a tragedy."

"Can't we just pretend?" he asks Maglor.

He looks surprised. "If it weren't all so extensive, I think we could," Maglor answers.

He understands what he means -- it's not like it's just one thing that's to be ignored. It's so many things. It's how Earendil had a stolen silmaril up in the sky forever, which basically tortured Maglor due to the oath, as he lay trying to die on the shore of Middle Earth.

It's how Maglor and his brothers hunted them all down for their silmaril, traumatizing Elwing twiceover -- probably more than twice, if you count the whole 'abandoning their kids' part and the suicide attempt.

And it's also though how Maglor was the only one to love the boys, and keep them, and cherish them. Not their real parents. The whole story is insane.

But at least in Maglor he has someone else who understands, that he can talk to about it. He can't tell Elrond his real feelings, because he already hurt him, like Elwing did, by simply not being there ever. And he can't discuss it all with Elwing, because her intense grief at what happened, and at what she did [and didn't do] had led her very close to death.

Maglor never seems to mind talking about it all, from any angle, even the 'he's a monster' one. And he also comforts Earendil about his own great errors, without being condescending or cruel. He's on his side, and Elrond's, and Elwing's.

Of all the ways Maglor could have been, Earendil never envisioned he'd be the way he actually is. He never thought he would be this good, that he would be a friend to both Elwing and him too, never mind Elrond already. Basically, he'd imagined that Maglor was some wicked psychopath who simply cared for Elrond like a father. And that he'd say before them all, how unfit Elrond's real parents were. Look at what they did!

And Elrond would say, yeah, you're right. Kill yourselves.

But Elrond had simply instead been quiet when they met with him, and Maglor hadn't been there. Earendil had had to ask to meet him, wanting it over with. And then seeing him had been such as shock. Seeing how horrific he'd looked back then, like someone truly dead and starved to it.

Maglor had been nice to him, to his shock. He couldn't even remember then the last time he felt like people were kind and soliticous of him in a real, genuine way.

None of this had really fit his preconceptions, even despite hearing his praying to him before. A person can pray one thing and do another, after all. And Earendil hadn't really grasped early on that it was truly Maglor anyway.

He was also shocked that Elrond was so patient and kind to them both. Elrond has forgiven them, and is loving to them, and Maglor too is as close to them as a family member.

"I want to pretend anyway," Earendil admits, and Maglor smiles.

"Then so we shall. Except I can't be a totally new person, I still have to be a harpist in these new disguises," he informs him. "I can hardly learn a new skill after all these years, that's really the only one I've got."

He knows how that feels, Earendil thinks. Except that it's not true for Maglor, who had a real, extensive education as a prince in Aman under the two trees. Earendil had almost no education, other than some basics in Gondolin. But the elves didn't rush teaching there, even though Idril was Noldor -- their timelines were mentally different. An elven child had literally forever to learn and grow. So education wasn't immediately prioritized over everything else.

But Earendil is not an elf. And also, Gondolin fell when he had barely done any lessons, other than what a young child is taught.

"I don't want to be a sailor," Earendil decides. "But I don't know what else I could ever be."

"You can just be a prince, at your leisure," Maglor suggests. "Like Finno, and me, and Nelyo. And Elrond, too."

"Can I ask you ... " he says, and Maglor nods. "What was it like, with the two trees? What were the elves like then? Was it the same as it seems now?"

Maglor hmms and thinks about it. He lays back against the couch in a very un-elven way. It's almost funny how at times he seems to act more non-elven [he has no higher blood, only has that of Feanor of course ... which may count, in a small way, since Feanor seems 'more' than an elf in some ways] than Elrond, in terms of behaviors.

But that could be just how Elrond acts with him and Elwing, who are 'new' to him, in a sense. Maybe in private he acts differently. Elwing and him do, of course. Out in public with the elves, he tries to be more still and more 'elven' seeming. Not his real, causal self.

"I suppose," Maglor begins, looking at the ceiling, "that for some elves it was very stifling. At the time, I don't think anyone really knew that, though. They would have probably described it differently. Of course no one wanted what happened to happen -- the trees dying, my grandfather dying, my father going nuts. But the idea of going out to Middle Earth appealed to a lot of elves for a reason. Many wanted an adventure, they wanted to live. To be free, to be away from the Valar too, I think. Whereas here things were never going to change, in a way. You just had to have your little hobbies and be satisfied with that."

"Were you? Satisfied here?" he asks him.

Maglor considers the question. "I think I was, because I had Nelyo, and Finno. We three were always together. And I had my music, my composing and practicing. I was happy. I didn't really care about anything else, then. I had no interest in a family of my own, because I had those two already, and mother and father."

"Do you think I would have been satisfied? Or Elrond, Elwing?" Earendil poses the question.

Maglor purses his mouth, ruminating for a while. Finally he says, "Well, Elrond would have his healing interest, and books, so he'd always be off working those things. Even back then. So yes for him. You I think would have enjoyed the lifestyle then, it was very much acceptable to say you were just 'consumed with observing nature' and do whatever you want. Elwing I think would have liked all the events, there were endless galas, dancing, performances. She could have worked with Glorfindel back then with her magical special effects for them. But we were all children back then, and only my father had known death, truly. So I think no one knew their true selves."

"I wish all that hadn't happened," Earendil remarks, and he agrees.

"It was total pandemonion, at the time," Maglor explains. "Everyone was hysterical. So many shocking things had happened in a row. I think often when modern elves try to learn of the past they simply cannot understand that aspect of it. Even the oldest elves had never had anything happen like this. And my father was already fractured, ruined, by what had already happened to, and with, his own parents; these new events I think made him break from reality entirely."

"If only you had a different father," Earendil tells him.

"I don't know," Maglor prevaricates, musing. "What if my blood, from both parents, gives me my talent? I'd rather take my life, with my skill, than be a regular elf that was safe, with no skill."

"Ah ... really?" he asks, surprised. Maglor waves an insouciant hand. [This too is not an elven behavior.]

"Yes," Maglor says, decisively. "I'd hate to think of Nelyo all alone, without me there, as well. I'd rather be there for him, helping him, than some 'other' person. What if they didn't love him the same, and see how special he is, and help him perfectly? I can't even think about it. Anything that happened to me is nothing compared to the importance of that."

Even Earendil knows that he and Finno spent endless years helping Nelyo recover from his torture; he was almost ruined unto death and they worked together to stabilize him, and nurse him.

How envious he is, in a way, of the sibling concept. He was all alone. Elrond as he knows is incandescent with rage about Elros choosing to die, leaving him alone. But Maglor and Finno have Nelyo back at least, which is good to think of. At least one good thing happened.

"Though I am jealous of you," Maglor tells him. "Tuor seems great. I would love to have a family that was good, and pure, with no drama, horrible endless people, nonsense. And all the violence stuff, obviously. ... This seems like a bad moment to call for refreshments, but I'm going to. Glorfindel will kill me if I waste a moment of wanting to eat."

He goes and steps up to the door, and talks to a page, who then leaves. Maglor comes back and lays down on the couch, on the little decorative pillows by the one side of it.

"Don't you talk to your father when he comes here?" Earendil asks him.

He rolls his eyes; honestly, Maglor really does seem like one of them, not an elf. Though his glow now spoils it -- before the remaking he did even more so, since he had lost most of his 'elven' radiance and the light of the trees in his eyes.

"Oh, he's so annoying," Maglor sighs. "I hate him passionately. But he's like the weather, something all must put up with. It's easier and faster to see him and tell him to get his sorry ass out of here because I despise him, than it would be to not see him. Finno evaded his father easily. My father? He is not someone that can be reasoned with. Supposedly he's better now, but I really could give a fuck. I know you and everyone's lives have been terrible, but my father and grandfather ruined mine -- and more importantly, Nelyo's. So for me, it's personal. For everyone else, it's more distant, because you're not related to your enemies. My family IS my enemy, partially."

Except for how Maglor is practically family, now, he thinks. But even if he had stood aside, it wouldn't have mattered -- his brothers and the Feanoreans would have toppled Doriath, and ruined Sirion. Just with more losses on their side, probably.

"I still hate Turgon and his horrible sister," Earendil adds, and Maglor nods.

He knows that Maglor does not like Turgon, and Finno outright hates Turgon.

"Of course," he says. "I try not to say anything in front of Finno, who is so appalled at their behavior and mistakes. I think he feels ashamed that he's related to people whose foolishness lead to such devastation and death -- wait, look at the time!"

Earendil has a sundial outside his house; they both look at it.

Maglor darts up all of a sudden.

"I'm late for the pèstancats match, Finno will be disappointed," he says. "Come! You can play with us."

"I don't know this sport," Earendil says, following him. Outside, a page is approaching the house with the light tray Maglor has ordered. He waves for the elf to follow him, and he and Earendil both do.

Earendil asks if he can carry it, and the elf looks shocked and astonished by him. This is a typical elf reaction to him and Elwing. It is so tiring, and endless, unfortunately. He gives him the tray. Earendil would feel strange to have someone else carry his things.

He gestures with his head to the page that he can go, and he bows, and does, obeying. It's weird to have servants around constantly. Idril had not allowed servants around Tuor very often, or Earendil, because they weren't only the prince consort of Gondolin and new heir of Turgon, they were different.

Elves always were eager to see them both, and many watched his father go out each morning to see the beautiful dawn over Gondolin. [He later heard that the elves said in books that Tuor wore his armor each morning ... his father wore a bathrobe when he woke up, over his pyjamas. Like a normal person.]

To try to give Tuor more privacy, and to give Earendil a more 'normal' childhood [well, despite being the only higher blooded person in the whole city and being the heir], Idril had made her servants act outside their private rooms, and she herself did the labor of bringing trays outside, and things like that. This way there could be little gossip about the royal family, since they often weren't even around elves.

And on his ship, Earendil was working with his crew, not idly standing by, above them. So he is not as used to the indolent culture of the royalty of Aman.

... Maglor on the other hand was raised like that, and doesn't even seem to notice or think of things like this. Gil-Galad though he's seen dismiss servants before, if not needed. Elrond seems to be like Maglor at times, and like Earendil at others. Sometimes he's seen Elrond have loads of pages wait on him; at other times no servants are around at all.

"Like globurum -- it's the little toss game, with spheristics," Maglor tells him, striding through new Rivendell quite quickly. To be honest, Earendil didn't know he could move this fast. He is mentally still used to the half-dead Maglor, who lay in bed most of the time; who Glorfindel carried around when he wanted to go somewhere.

"I don't know that one either," he reports.

And then they're there, outside of the pathways of the town, into nature. They enter into fields and trees, and forest. There is a little gravel square, and elves are around it. Finno is indeed there, and so is Nelyo, Finrod, Artanis and Indis.

"Sorry I'm late," Maglor calls to them, as Finno yells out at him from afar that he's tardy. "I brought snacks though, and Elrond's father. I thought his presence might deter you from making an embarassment of yourself again, the way you lost last time."

Finno looks outraged, and also amused. "It wasn't that embarrassing," he calls at Earendil, insistent. " ... It was only a little bit humiliating. Maglor didn't do well either."

"That's not true," Maglor informs him, sotto voce. "I did very well. It's not my fault that the wind was strong, and against me."

"And why are you making Earendil carry the tray?" Finno says, appalled.

Maglor turns and looks back at him, confused at how there's no servant anymore. He looks back at Finno. "I don't know, he wrangled it off a page somehow. I tend not to question people who are competent at the big stuff. Now let's play."

He sets the tray over to the side of the gravel rectangle, that seems to be the 'play zone'. Maglor comes over to it and takes a piece of paper out from it, that was tucked in between the beverage carafes, the chicken salad sandwiches, the cheese and crackers, the fresh fruit salad, and the brownies.

After he looks at it, he pockets it, and doesn't say anything. Earendil knows this is a 'check' on the ingredients being okay for non-elves to eat.

There are already servants out here actually. To the far side of the little gravel playing field there are little modern, collapsible tables covered with bottles of wine, and sweets and food. The pages who brought it out are a ways away, talking to each other, and playing some type of card game together.

It's interesting how the elves have such intense, clear demarkations between ethnic groups, tribal groups [making the great journey vs. not, etc] and also class groups. Even Earendil knows he isn't allowed to talk to people not in his class if he's outside of new Rivendell, or if outsiders are there [cf: Finrod and Indis and Artanis, here.]

And he knows too that only certain elves speak to say Maedhros, versus other elves -- not because he's Feanor's son [ie a kinslayer], but because he's the grandson of the king, and was a high king himself. The same for Maglor. The elves not on that exact line in the chart of elvendom do not really engage with people in other areas of the chart.

The only exceptions to these rules seem to be Earendil himself and Elwing [out of not really ever learning about them], Elrond [due to his own choice, it seems] and the dwarves, and the ringbearers. Earendil can't imagine not being free. But then, he is not an elf.

He asked Maglor once about it, and he said, "We were raised like that, so to us it seems normal. I would feel I was discomfiting say, a cook, by asking to speak casually to them. We just aren't used to socializing outside our little bubbles."

"But you can talk to me," Earendil pointed out. "And Elwing too. We are different, and from far away, across the sea from where you were born."

Maglor had waved that away. "No, you are a royal, a king of Gondolin. And Elwing is a Queen. Just like I was a regent for my brother, when he was high king. So we are the same, you see, in that important way."

He refuses to ever say he was high king himself, always pointing out in detail that he was only regent for his brother. How sad, to think of, that all that happened. Maglor constantly goes over to his brother and Finno's house, even now.

"I'm not much of a royal," Earendil had pointed out. "I'm kind of random sailor. My mother is a princess, I know. But. I'm not really a prince, myself, very much."

"You're one of us," Maglor had told him, emphatically. "You can see us all or not, whatever you like. You can dress and do what you please. But who you are, your blood ... you and Elwing are part of our group. Irrevocably. I am happy for that, that I have been able to know you. You're even better than I had imagined you."

"Really?" he'd asked.

"Really," Maglor had said, serious. It had felt so comforting, somehow, to have his approval.

Elrond's city is an anomoly from the rules of the elves, based on his non-elven wishes. Maglor once told Earendil during his 'school' lessons that he'd 'clearly failed at trying to indoctrinate Elrond into the Noldor culture, for the most part. He's far too good, wise, kind and exemplary. He only retained the scant few good parts of my culture, and none of the bad. He's like a lotus leaf -- superhydrophobic, except with my wickedness instead of water. Despite my best efforts, he's simply too good, coming from good blood, to absorb any of my evil.'

Maglor is nice like that, re the blood.

[Earendil hadn't really grasped what the plant mention was about, so Maglor explained. It rejects water, like how he's saying Elrond's nature automatically repels doing evil, like a metaphor.]

Maglor and Finno and Artanis teach him how the game works as they all play. Once in a while they speak to him, or point something out, or tell him someone else is a bad example at something, leading to vociferous complaints and debate.

Indis doesn't really speak to him; she is someone he doesn't know, really. Maglor introduces him to her when they first get there, and says that she's one of 'Finwe's two queens, and famous for her great beauty'.

Earendil doesn't find her preferable, but then again, he is not an elf. His mother is certainly a more beautiful blonde, if one had to pick a lady elf. Indis looks more uncanny, 'too' perfect, almost. More unreal, whereas Idril looks loving and kind.

He nods to her politely, and she does the whole thing, with the elven respectful bowing and the phrase they use about him. Maglor tells her that Earendil is 'Elrond's father, a famous hero, as you know'. Unfortunately, the elves of Aman learned quickly who he and Elwing were and their track record. The fools were so busy wanting to 'beat' the Feanoreans that none of them seemed to ever get that Elwing and him messed up, irrevocably.

Indis is overly respectful to him, which feels weird, but the elves are like that. Many do that to him and Elwing. She wears a more royal outfit, with lots of jewels, compared to everyone else.

Thankfully he doesn't have to talk much to everyone, because they are all busy playing and accusing each other of cheating.

Finrod comes over to him at one point and tells him, "Don't worry -- everyone has been very aggressive with me about ever asking you anything at all about having higher blood. I've been threatened very creatively. I think Elrond may kill me."

"He should probably leave that to more of a professional, like me," Maglor says mildly, walking past them to start scolding Artanis on her current success, which he insists is not valid. "I know you know that everyone has to be the same level of drunk for it to be an even playing field!"

Artanis cusses him out quite creatively.

"Anyway," Finrod continues. "I wanted to tell you not to worry, I will pretend you are a regular, boring elf at all times, even if you suddenly do something amazing and/or magical."

" ... Thank you," Earendil tells him, a little wary of him.

"I wasn't expecting that I'd get to talk to you anyway," Finrod adds, looking jaunty in his fancy clothes, and fancier jewels. "Since Elrond has no interest in telling me anything. And Maglor warned me that if Elrond ever complained about me, I'd find myself trying to get to Mandos just to get away from him."

Earendil tries to hide a smile.

That does sound like Maglor. Only he could make the concept of himself technically avoiding kinslaying sound dangerous and like a serious threat.

It's a beautiful scene, the location of the game. There are so many beautiful trees, and lush forest surrounds them; birds sing, insects hum, and tall grasses rustle in the light breezes. The sun is just right under the leaves of the old and new plants that are all around, not too strong or too hot.

It's fun to watch them all argue over their game, really. Maedhros is much taller than the rest of them, and sometimes sits out of the game, watching. He tells Earendil funny things about the rest of them sometimes, in his so soft voice.

He is very different from Maglor; quiet, passive, enormous. Maglor looks almost tiny next to him. At times Finno comes over and sits next to Nelyo, watching the game with them.

Several of the elves try to get Earendil to act as a sort of judge at times, but he always says he wasn't paying attention. As the game goes on, they all get more and more funny.

Maglor insists the court isn't properly flat at one point, when he starts doing poorly. "Liar," Finno immediately shouts from the sidelines, jumping up and running into the fray and playing again.

"Don't test my love for you," Maglor mock scolds him. "Because you can get away with anything."

Maedhros lays down on the grass for a while, so Earendil asks him if he's okay.

"Oh, yes," Nelyo answers him in a murmur. "I just feel more comfortable this way."

Like Elwing and her brothers, he thinks. They too shun chairs. It's interesting to see Maedhros up close for so long, because he really is very beautiful. You can see why Finno likes him, looks-wise.

Nelyo often seems about as sociable as him, which is not much. But that's okay.

"Can I ask you something," Earendil says, finally, while watching Artanis put Finrod in a headlock while wrestling, as Indis laughs, as they fight over something in the game.

"Mmhm," Nelyo agrees, looking over at him.

"If you have any memories of the boys, could you tell me of them sometime," he asks.

"Yes," Nelyo says easily. "But I have very few. My mind was not there, really intact, then. I only remember Maglor saying things about them, not really interactions with the children themselves."

"Like what?" Earendil says.

Nelyo hmms. "Just that they did well in some schooling, or Elros climbed a tree when he was supposed to be looking at flowers on the ground. Or that he jumped into a pond for fun. That sort of thing. Mostly for Elrond he said that he was very smart. Elros seemed like the active one, from what I heard. Elrond healed me at times, back then, but I was insensate, and don't remember it."

"I hope you feel better now," Earendil tells him, and he mhmms again.

"I tire easily," he explains. "But I feel rather good. Your wife's token has helped very much."

"I am pleased it is so," Earendil comments.

"I'm losing," Finno calls to them, looking wounded. "Can you believe this!!"

"I can," Maglor says with a little bit of insouciance, from where he's staring at the court with Indis. Fingon gives him a rude gesture, making Maglor cackle, and comes over to them, and points at the two of them.

"They must be cheating," he declares to Nelyo. "I need both of you to tell me if you notice any signs of skullduggery. Thank you." Then he looks at Nelyo for a second and smiles, and gets down on the ground beside him where he's laying down, and kisses his cheek.

"Are you sure you don't want to try playing?" he then asks Earendil, who shakes his head. It's fun just to watch.

At times people come over and have some food and drink. Maglor has his pudding, and tells Earendil to try it, since he might like it -- it's a toasted caramel, nice and thick, with pudding below it. "It's very good," he tells him, and Maglor smiles.

"People think I 'have' to eat it, and don't realize that it actually tastes amazing. Have you had the lobster bisque? It's quite nice."

Earendil tries it. Because Maglor still mostly only eats soup and soft desserts, the cooks make many different ones in little containers, so he can try many of them and have options, instead of just having one.

There's a chicken and soft biscuit soup, ham and potato, and an almost spicy butternut squash soup. It's all very good. The elves drink wine of course; Earendil has some juice. Thankfully the trays had an array of both.

After the game is over, they all go back to new Rivendell, and he carries the now empty tray back. Everyone in the group seems like they're trying to hide their horror at this, and want him to leave it on the ground out there. But he doesn't mind.

The elves have strict rules for who can do what, all the time. It's funny, being around the 'odd' ones makes him kind of forget a little how the normal ones act. Maglor does whatever he wants often, and so does Elrond, Glorfindel, Finno, et cetera.

But the regular elves like Indis do not. And even ones like Maglor are still proper, at times, within their complex Noldor culture. Idril had shielded him from that as a boy, and then there was no city anyway.

Maglor rests for a little bit before playing for Indis. Earendil knows who she is, and has seen her before, but has never spent time with her. She's one of these 'never left Aman' people. He knows that she's Finwe's second wife, of course, Elrond and Maglor filled him in.

She and Miriel are friends, especially now, Maglor has told him, so it's important for him to be respectful to her, as a diplomatic thing.

Because the group wants to hear Maglor play, and Elrond's study is a small room for that many people, they go over to another large area for it.

Earendil sits outside, further away, where he won't be seen. The regular elves are very keen to see royals, he knows. His mother told him that when he was a boy -- and later he realized that his higher blood probably also doubled the interest.

Maglor plays some harps for a long while, and he gets lost in hearing it. And when it's over, he feels almost tired, emotionally, but good. Relaxed. Like a sigh of satisfaction after some pleasure.

He goes home alone, as elves try to talk to Maglor and Indis and the rest of them. Sitting off alone, away from everyone lets him do that easily, compared to sitting where he 'should' because he's a famous 'hero/prince' or whatever.

It's a nice walk to his little home. Well, it's not actually little. It's quite big, honestly.

Even the walk is nice, through the back lanes of the town and then out to freedom, to unspoiled nature. It's calming, see the copses of trees, to hear the sounds of the waterfalls even louder, to see all the flowers and plants and stones and grasses.

He couldn't ever live in town. It's very nice, but he wants to be alone. Safe and away from elves. How can he ever forget that evil elf trying to kill him as a child? Elves are dangerous. ... Not to mention what Maglor and the rest of them did to Doriath and Sirion.

Sometimes he still has nightmares about being almost murdered. Fuck you Aredhel, he thinks at those times. Fuck you and your husband and your kid. If only she and her evil child had never come to Gondolin. Then his life wouldn't be in ruin.

[Though then he would have never met Elwing, who he can't live without. And Elrond wouldn't be alive either. He wouldn't know Maglor, or have heard him play. He wouldn't be able to have fun with Glorfindel, back in Gondolin, if no tragedy had ever happened there -- things were extremely strict and conservative in that city. Also, his father would have died, there, which he can't even think about, it's too upsetting. So while he's happy with some things about his current life, he's still angry about other things; they don't cancel each other out. It's complicated.]

It's lovely that Elwing has her own castle-house nearby, because they can be together if they wish or need each other, but also they can rest alone, too. After living so long by himself, Earendil feels like he isn't able to be relaxed when with people constantly, with no break [anyone, not just her or something.] Thankfully Elwing seems to feel the exact same way.

He walks up to the door of his house, and notices that servants have left their little cloth off the window, it's gone -- that means they are not inside. Typically when he leaves his house, sometimes they come in and clean and take care of the plants. They leave him a little warning if they're there with the cloth thing.

Elwing is currently in his house, he finds, when he goes inside. She looks like a little bracelet, but he knows it's her. "I went to see mother," Elwing tells him, after they greet each other, and Earendil puts on the 'bracelet-but-it's-her' at her behest.

"Which one?" he asks her. Sometimes she calls both his and hers by that title.

"My one," Elwing clarifies. "My brothers were there, they were so annoying. They wanted to go hunting and had to wait because that vala and one of the boy elves that Maglor is angry at were in the way."

"One of his brothers? And Orome?" he asks.

She doesn't know which vala, he can feel it in her emotions as they spill over him.

"I can't believe that Feanor let a kid of his get with a vala, it seems crazy," Earendil tells her frankly. "Thank goodness Elrond is more sensible. I'd be so worried. Gil-Galad is nice and boring and reliable. And a king! He even built him this whole city, this copy, incredible. He's perfect."

"I agree," Elwing tells him. "It's so nice that Elrond is smarter than us. We never have to worry. After I left mother I went to see the tall lady elf, cause she always writes and says I can come over and say hi if I want to. She was nice. Mother thought maybe she would be good company, and I asked your mother, and she agreed, but said I should ask Elrond. So I did in a letter, and he agreed. I used my real handwriting, but he said it was okay and not very bad at all."

"Good," he says, happy for her. The tall elf is Galadriel of course; she's been nice when Earendil's talked with her, too, and not pompous or bent on ceremony, either, like many of the elves.

Both of their handwriting is utterly terrible, so when they originally sent letters to Elrond, Elwing used magic to make the letters look 'nicer' and more proper and elf-perfect [she gave him a magical stone to touch to the paper and do it anytime.] But now they both have given that up, and write how they actually really do. Elwing had worried that Elrond would criticize her for it, so it's a relief to hear that didn't happen.

When Maglor used to send him letters to the dock, to his ship in reply to him, it had almost been hard to read them, because his penmenship was so fancy, artistic.

He'd never thought of himself as unlearned, or a poor writer before. But he lived a mostly trauma-filled life, and then was alone on his ship for so long.

Now that he's actually near other people for long periods of time, over and over, and he can see comparatively that he knows nothing compared to Finno, Elrond, Maglor or the rest. They all know things offhand that he would have to look up in books, in all subjects. Maglor knows all about the old world of the early elves of course, and a great more besides.

And Elrond seems to know everything. Being told your son is heralded as a great loremaster is one thing, but actually hearing him talk can make him feel poleaxed. Earendil and Elwing are normal people. They've read one book between them, practically, in comparison to Elrond's probably millions, at this point.

Elrond is beyond their comprehension, in this way.

"I know," Elwing agrees, and he looks at her on his wrist [her-as-bracelet.] "It's intimidating. He's so much better than us. I'm happy he has everything, even all the words and books and thoughts, but it makes it harder for me. I don't have any of that inside me."

"Me either," he murmurs, holding his wrist with his other hand, touching 'her-as-bracelet'. "I never know what to say. He's so erudite. It's like everyone I know here is famous and a genius and accomplished, the best in their field. And then there's me. I can't even be the best sailor, cause there's Cirdan."

"It's nice of Elrond and Maglor to pretend we are heroes, though," Elwing says, reflecitng.

"Yes," he agrees heartily. He can't imagine surviving through them openly despising the two of them, or saying the truth of what they did out loud [stealing, abandonment.]

"I came and watched that game with you, since you were still out," Elwing adds. "The sandwiches looked good. Also, Finno was right, everyone was trying to cheat."

He laughs, and hold her-as-bracelet that's on his arm to his chest.

"They were good. Why don't we get some more and you can try them?" he suggests, and she agrees.

He goes out and asks a page for some, and they ask if he would like also a general set of food to accompany those? He says okay.

Then he goes back into his house. The Noldor have servants close to them, inside all over, but he prefers to go into the public sphere to talk to pages. His house is somewhere he wants to be private, void of outsiders.

Also, after he comes inside, Elwing-as-bracelet flies off his wrist and turns into herself and jumps on top of him, and he catches her, and they kiss, and they kiss, and kiss. And then get naked.

By the time that's over, and they've rested afterwards, he suddenly realizes that he forgot the food -- the pages just leave it on a porch, they don't go inside his house or call to him. He puts on a bathrobe for modesty and runs out and gets the trays, and takes them inside.

"I want a quick bath," he tells her, and she jumps in with him, magically making it warm and also making water appear in the first place.

They both get into bathrobes and eat on the carpet. His house has a lot of very fancy handwoven ones in complex, beautiful patterns and colors.

The servants included a lot of extra food, which is great because the new Rivendell food is really good. Even Maglor eats at times, so it must be, given his typical lack of appetite.

Once in a while, Earendil goes with the group to their parties at Finwe's palace, that type of thing, now. He hears a lot of things. Elves like to gossip, and he has weirdly good hearing, it seems.

People say that Maglor and Nelyo aren't going to rule on their own ever again, after what their father did to them. Earendil thinks that's true. Neither of them seem to care about politics, though they dispassionately allow Finarfin and Fingolfin to speak to them, if they want to.

Earendil knows almost nothing about the politics of Aman, because he's never cared, and he still doesn't care. He's not from here; he's from Gondolin in Middle Earth.

Elves [the important ones, that is] rarely try to speak to him anyway, which is excellent. [Elrond and Maglor already know the cheat sheet of who he'll willingly speak to or not because Elrond asked him in depth; this way if an elf comes to new Rivendell and asks to see him, Gil-Galad can ask Elrond or Maglor about it, and they can answer immediately.]

Here at home in new Rivendell, sometimes Maglor's people talk to him, if he's around, but they always wait for him to say hello first, and then they ask first, if he wants to talk, or hear about whatever. He likes the opportunity to avoid it, or to say no. If yes, they talk about their work, or about nature, never about politics or other obnoxious subjects.

Chapter Text

Maglor is often asked to go to places, to see people, to play. He mostly doesn't answer anyone, unwilling to be cruel and say 'no, you loser', or 'no, I hate your guts'.

It's almost silly, how he had clung to that phrase about him, so long ago on his ship in the sky -- that he was the 'gentlest in temperment' of all of Feanor's sons. He had tried to keep reassuring himself that that meant he wouldn't hurt his little boys.

... But that could also mean he was the weakest, and would do whatever others said, right? So it might mean the opposite in a way. Instead it turns out that Maglor is someone very reliable, in the rescuing children and giving them good lives way.

Eventually he asks Finno if he will show him through osanwe with everyone looked like in the ancient world of the two trees. And he does.

The trees look different, than from the new ones now in this remade world. Everyone looks very young, really. They all look so happy ... he has to stop watching. It's too sad, to know what happened to them all. But it was interesting, to see them in their 'real' garb, their real jewels, everything.

"You must ask them to see me," Finno tells him, as they play cards. "Since all my memories are from my point of view. I'm sure I looked like a foolish child. ... Is it strange, that I feel some kinship with you? I don't mean the real blood part. I mean more than that. Because of your grandmother."

"The one who died on the ice?" he asks, and Finno looks nauseated for a moment, to his surprise. "I don't know her."

" ... Yes," Fingon finally says, looking a little down. "I did. I always thought she was too good for him. He was different, after. I could hardly bear to think about it all, and how the child was without a mother -- like Feanor. But at least Idril didn't make any silmarils and go crazy."

"I have never asked her about it. Was all that journey as terrible as I imagine it to be?" he asks him.

Finno pauses, and just breathes for a little bit. "Yes. Yes. People always say I'm amazing for what I did, and of course I would have done it no matter what, but ... really I enjoyed parts of it, like the planning, because I was just throwing myself into thinking about something else. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened on ... there. I couldn't sleep. The only time I could forget was when I was busy. And then I got him back, and I was focused on helping him, with Kano. And Kano was playing all the time for him of course, which made me feel so much better."

"It is strange to talk to my grandmother," Earendil admits to him. "I feel closer to you than to her."

Finno tries to smile. "Well, I am a relation too."

"Do you mind if I say something critical of her?" he asks. Finno says 'of course not', easily. "I don't understand what they were doing, bring a kid that young out into such an environment. I would think they should have been left in Aman. ... Though I guess you could say that's what I did, right -- left the boys behind, with Elwing. And that didn't seem like a good choice, with hindsight."

Fingon looks amused. "Of course it was. What if a giant sea monster toppled your boat and the boys fell out because they were so tiny? And I understand what you mean, but it wasn't like we were going on a trip, we all wanted to move. Permanently. We wanted to reject the valar and their land, and migrate to another place to live. Once we realized the boats would never come back, which took a while, we started packing everything up to take with us. We didn't want to live there anymore, we didn't want to ever return. So he had to take the child. ... Of course now, knowing all of history, it seems idiotic, yes. I agree. But at the time, we thought that was it. Forever, we would go make a new house somewhere else to protest the evil valar."

"I hate them so much," Earendil tells him honestly, and he laughs.

"So do I, my friend. Or my great-nephew, should I say? That seems like an awkward title. Let's pretend you are my brother, instead. I should have greatly liked you as a brother more than my own," Fingon declares. But he is not as merry as he usually is, now that Nelyo is here, because of the topic of conversation.

There's a sudden knock at the door; Finno looks adoringly at it. ... It has to be Nelyo, based on that reaction. Anyone else he'd just be normal about, or angry about [his father, Turgon, his sister, Finwe.]

Nelyo and Maglor come in, and take off their overcloaks. Both their hair is pinned up, and Maglor takes Nelyo's down for him, arranging it gently, and he thanks him. Maitimo has long, beautiful, rich hued red hair, very lovely. And he is incredibly tall and handsome, almost startlingly so. If Earendil didn't have Elwing, and didn't love women so much, even he'd gaze at him, he thinks.

His beauty stands out even more against Maglor and Finno, who both look fine, but are more plain, and don't have any aesethically pleasing dusting of freckles, just their regular pale skin with contrasting dark hair.

"I hate ordering clothes," Maglor complains to them, taking down his own short hair. "They all were smirking at me, I'm sure. They didn't actually, but I know they were all thinking of it. How funny is it, to see Kano back after all this time. Tired of his black clothes is he? We knew it. Ugh. You know they all ran to tell Glorfindel immediately; I want to avoid telling him until the last minute. He'll laugh forever."

He dramatically flops into a chair near them. [Typically Elrond gives Maglor [ie orders for him] copies of the clothes he already has and likes [plain and black], he's told Earendil before. This must be some 'helping his older brother' type of scheme.]

Nelyo follows more sedately, looking pleased. He lays back on the big couch. Finno pours them both glasses of water from a pitcher on a nearby table and brings each one.

"Tell them how they were," Maglor instructs Nelyo, regally, implying that he'll prove his point, who smiles a little.

"They tried to get him to dress very fancy," Maitimo reports to them. "And he wasn't having it, telling them he wanted simple clothes. He was arguing with them. They kept looking to me to help him see reason. But I told them he is simply impossible."

"That's totally inaccurate," Maglor dismisses. "I'm sure everyone would back you up despite it, because they all love you more than me. Which I don't mind -- you are my favorite."

Nelyo smiles.

Maglor has told Earendil that he and Nelyo are practicing separating Maitimo and Finno at times, to see if they can tolerate it. Sometimes Fingon won't leave Nelyo's side, ever, for years at a time, which even they all know is unhealthy, without Elrond [as a healer] having to mention it.

Earendil leaves them then, despite them saying he can stay.

They are a little trio, a unit forged in extreme circumstances. He is an interloper with them, ultimately. Also, he is going to hear Elrond's account of his healing discoveries from him; he asked him to come to tea today in his rooms.

He walks over, and finds Glorfindel out [with his sporting group] and Elrond there. He lets him in, and they sit down. ... There are books everywhere. I can do this, he tells himself.

Elwing gave him a pep talk this morning.

[She isn't coming because she was worried she'd say the wrong thing, like 'why are you even interested in this stuff?' or 'this is extremely complicated, I have no idea what you're talking about'.]

Elrond doesn't make him look at the books, thank goodness. Instead he just tells him general things. "Really, a lot of the progress wasn't even made by me," he confesses to him. "It was elves who told me that before they died or got injured that I could always try experimental therapies and medicines on them, if the regular ones didn't fix their injuries. So I did try, in those circumstances. And some of them worked."

"What is it like," Earendil asks him. "To be the king of a city?"

He has never been one. Elwing's Doriath survivors controlled Sirion on her behalf; the Gondolin survivors helped them when they wanted it. And then he lived on his boat, and on his boat in the sky. So he doesn't really have any experience at managing city administration, or being a ruler, or what have you.

Elrond moves his head back and forth for a moment, and thinks. [Elves don't really move the way he does, but in public he acts more elven.]

"I don't think I'm one who would know," he says, to Earendil's surprise. "You should ask Gil-Galad, or Erestor. Erestor ran Rivendell at home, and runs our part of this town, here, now. He only needs me for something once in a while."

"You don't want to be in charge?" Earendil asks him. It's always interesting to ask Elrond questions. He knows so little about him and his opinions; it's always a learning experience.

"No," Elrond says easily. "I'm a healer. Not a ruler, or even a city administrator. Erestor knows how cities should be managed, much more than me. He does things like handle the taxes, look at all our stores of goods numbers to be sure we have enough of everything in case of emergency, that type of thing. I do that for the healing area, though, because that's my expertise. But not for the other areas."

"Did elves ... " he starts, and then stops himself.

Elrond looks at him curiously.

"What?" he asks him. "I don't mind talking about my life."

"Did elves try to get you to be king, instead of Gil-Galad?" Earendil asks him.

Elrond laughs at that. "Oh, yes. My brother and I were practically dragging elves off of us about that. Some of them were almost following us around, begging for us to be the kings of some new Doriath or Gondolin, and others wanted us to depose Gil-Galad together. I almost felt sorry for them. Of course we thought all that was insane. We already knew our destinies -- my brother knew he would choose mortal death very early on, and I knew I had to build a special city. That it needed to exist, and I needed to be there. Then of course Maglor's people came to me, thinking him dead, and I left Lindon with them to build Rivendell."

Only Elrond would have the balls to do that, he thinks.

"Did anyone protest that?" he asks him.

There are a lot of things they could have argued about: Elrond was the heir of Gil-Galad so shouldn't leave his city, that Maglor's people had technically helped kidnap and keep him with them, that the kinslayers weren't really brought to justice or something.

Elrond smiles. "Oh yes. People were going into fits of apoplexy practically everywhere when I first announced that I was doing this. But I insisted to them that the past dictated that these people needed serve me now, in perpetuity, and obey me, in light of what they'd done bfore. I said to them all in Lindon, how could anyone argue this, since it is the justice I require for what was done to me? Of course the Lindon elves didn't really understand the other side of it. And I said that if Maglor's people didn't want to obey me, they could go to Gil-Galad for their fate instead. This satified everyone."

Earendil nods.

They all thought Elrond would be as vicious, capricious and wicked as a regular elf, not as merciful and good as he actually is. They thought he wanted these people of Maglor as his slaves. But Earendil has seen Elrond interact with these elves many times, over the years since Elrond crossed the sea.

They act very caring and willingly subservient towards him, all of them. They clearly serve him out of love, not bondage or fear. And Elrond doesn't seem like a 'real' Noldor king -- Earendil has seen many, now. Finwe, Turgon [even more so now], Feanor, and others. Even Gil-Galad doesn't act like them, either, but he is closer to being in their vein than Elrond.

Elrond is simply their 'special' person, who is different and better than them, yet lives among them as their leader. Like a lesser Melian.

"Do you think we could on your boat sometime again?" Elrond adds.

"But you hate sailing," Earendil says without thinking, and blanches.

Elrond laughs. "I don't hate it, I just have no talent in it. I'm the same in many other areas. Glorfindel despairs of me in his sports games. I'm always concerned that someone has gotten hurt and try to take whoever out of the game to examine them. Though I am good at archery, and at swords. But I have never killed, to try to preserve my healing prowess, as they say that would be affected by it. But it's nice to see water, and fish, and all that. And Gil-Galad just loves it, it's one of his favorite things. I like to see him so happy."

"Then let's go," Earendil agrees.

They walk over to Gil-Galad's royal rooms, and Elrond goes in to see him while Earendil waits outside on a bench. Elves are much more ceremonial over here on what he's heard Elrond call the 'Lindon' side of the town.

As expected, Gil-Galad agrees to go on this excursion, and so he leaves a note for Elwing and they ride off to the shore.

Olwe keeps writing to him to say that he can come stay with his people when he's out at his ship, but that's old news. He's always done that, and Earendil has always ignored him. If that little shit had let Feanor borrow or buy his boats, they probably wouldn't be in this mess [well, at least to the degree they are.] It's like everyone involved did the worst possible thing at the worst possible time.

They spend a nice day at sea. Elrond just likes to look at it. Gil-Galad brings casual clothes with him and then changes into them after they're onboard, and does all the work with Earendil. It's fun to work with someone on his ship, after so long alone in the sky. Also, Gil-Galad really knows what he's doing, having been raised mostly by Cirdan.

After they dock again, many hours later, they all leave the shipyard and journey home to new Rivendell together. Elrond waves goodbye to him as he parts with them in the town, and continues walking all the way to his house, further out.

Elwing left him a note in his house, that says she wants him to come over to her abode and sleep, rest with her, so he heads over.

Inside her little castle-house, he finds her in the hammock already, so he gets in too, and they talk.

"How was the sea?" she asks him, as they snuggle up against each other.

"Nice and calm," Earendil reports. "The boys seemed to like being out."

Of course he's aware that Elrond and Gil-Galad are not children, but it's hard not to think of them that way. They both seem like teenage lovers, though Gil-Galad does seem older and more somber; probably since he died so horribly at the hand of Sauron. The remaking though has made both of them look so much younger, so refreshed and hale looking – no longer do they both look a bit weary, like before the remaking.

"Did Elrond say anything interesting?" she asks him.

"Well, they talked about plays at one point," Earendil explains. "I've never heard of any of them. Apparently they know all about theatre. I can't imagine wanting to watch that type of performance, myself, or even listening to the storytellers – I mean we're in stories ourselves. That's bad enough, I don't want to hear those or any other stories, either."

"I've seen them a few times before, spying as a bird," Elwing tells him, laying up against him, on his chest and shoulder. " … They must be an acquired taste. Music is much better. Or watching dancing."

"I agree. How was your day?" Earendil asks her.

"It was good," she advises him. "I flew around and looked at everything going on all over. Then I went and said hi to your mom, and the tall lady elf. She asked if I wanted to go shopping, and I told I hadn't gone before, and she said it was fun. So we came back here from her town and looked at the shopping tables. Glorfindel was there with Maglor, because they are going hunting soon with everyone, and 'need things' – he asked us to rescue him from his sartorial clutches. She laughed. I told him I could fly him away or make him invisible, but he said he was just joking, because he had to serve his punishment for his life of crimes before. Glorfindel told me he's melodramatic and that I should always laugh at how silly he is, but he rolled his eyes at him – he kind of acts like we do, not like an elf."

"I know," he agrees. "Maglor does, I've seen it myself. Maybe being around Elrond so much made him unconsciously start echoing how he acts. Glorfindel acts very differently too, but I think that's just how he is, as opposed to anything else. He's quite a unique person, especially for an elf."

Elves seem to be very comformist, in some ways, in his opinion. It is rare to see an elf that 'stands out', in his experience. … Not that he has a lot of experience.

The next time he's alone with Maglor, he asks him.

Sometimes when he comes over to his house, he plays for just him, either because he offered to or because Earendil asked him to, and then it's so moving that he weeps without even realizing it, and falls asleep. And wakes up on the big couch, laying on pillows up leaning against Maglor, as he writes a score with one hand and strokes his back, and hair, and neck with the other. It's almost like with Elwing, where he can feel her feelings; with Maglor, like this, he can almost feel the soft, warm, caring, loving feelings pour over him, like a magical blanket.

It feels very good.

It's like he wrung him out like a washcloth with his music, emotionally, and now has unfolded him and smoothed him out again. Sometimes he even does it for half the day, it's amazing. It almost feels as good as hearing him play and sing.

He used to not sing, that Earendil ever knew of, but now he does, at times, while he plays, and it's such a privilege to hear it. While he would have loved for his life to be better, without all these tragedies, it is kind of nice to get such unrestricted access to the best musician alive [or to ever live, whatever.]

Maglor plays for him and Elwing all the time [separately, and also together at times]; she asks him to often, so sometimes he goes from his brother's house to her house and back again.

"Do you think elves are conformist by nature?" he asks him, after he kind of surfaces from the pleasure of the music, and of being touched so gently.

"I will tell you what I think, but drink something while you listen, so I feel better," Maglor says, insistent. He gets out from under him [he's a little tiny person, compared to Earendil] and makes him lay on a bunch of pillows in the interim, and gets him some juice and water, and then makes him sit up and drink it.

He does and says things like that, sometimes. It must be beause he got used to looking after Elrond as a little boy, and being near Earendil makes him think of it. He's seen him talk like that to Elrond and Nelyo, and even Glorfindel, but no one else.

It's nice to be cared about, honestly. He was alone for so long that it always feels like a lovely surprise, for anyone to notice him kindly and affectionately [not like how the elves look upon him typically with awe and fervor] and want to take care of him.

He can tell that Maglor isn't doing it out of guilt or awe or anything bad; he can almost feel his soft love for him, and it's soothing.

Sometimes it almost makes him feel guilty, because keeping the last silmaril from him on his ship in the sky, stolen like Earendil was a thief, probably tortured him as he was trying [unsuccessfully] to kill himself on the shore … after rescuing his kids for him, and loving them. But Maglor never seems to think of that or hate him for it.

Maglor sits down by his feet afterwards, as Earendil sips his juice.

He puts his hand on his ankle. "Hm … elves and conformity. I suppose I've never thought about it before. But that must be because I'm an elf. I never have really thought of us from the 'outside'. Except of course with the boys, as everything worried me. I'd barely ever looked at a mortal, much less seen anybody different at length. I was always concerned about them, but then I realized that whatever they did had to be natural for them, and then I wasn't as scared for them."

"Do we really seem so different?" Earendil asks him. He knows it must be so, given the way elves always react to them.

Maglor is probably the only person who could really say, other than Nimloth or Idril [well, just a little for her, because she had to leave Sirion with Tuor so quickly.]

"I think you seem very … very much like born rulers, like strong individuals. You have no tendency to gather under others; you are yourselves," Maglor begins. "You are at the top of the hierarchy, so you act differently than elves, which are mostly born into a lower level. So say I used to obey my father, and Nelyo. But you don't have to obey anyone, you're higher. So I think that informs how you all act. Take Elrond, for instance. He didn't need to serve Gil-Galad when I sent him to Lindon out of a need to belong or work or have purpose. So he was his friend, not his servant. I think elves, at least us Noldor I mean, truly enjoy our work, we want to all contribute together to make a great whole. But you all are not simply Noldor, you have other culture, other blood. So perhaps you are more free of our intense desire to work and fit into the existing community."

"Do I seem marked by being half Noldor?" he asks him.

"Mmm," Maglor prevaricates and moves his head a little – unelven again, "I think maybe your love of sailing is like this, your great heroism; that you are so good at something. Other types of elves don't seem to even pursue finding out if they are good at anything in the first place. Well, as far as I understand these other elven cultures. I did try to study Doriath's, of course, for the boys. Really, Daeron seems so Noldorean to me, in what I've read of him, honestly. Quite the opposite of the stories of Timpinen. … Not that I'd ever insult the people of Doriath by saying it, of course."

Earendil has to have him explain who that is; it's creepy.

"Can you believe Fingolfin and Finarfin are having another feast of reuniting? Honestly, it's like get a hobby," Maglor complains to him. "I was tired of it when I was at the first one!"

"You mean a few years ago?" he asks.

"Oh, no, I mean the one over the sea, by the pools of Ivrin. Only me and Nelyo went," Maglor explains. "We wouldn't let our brothers come, knowing them it would have lead to immediate bloodshed, honestly. I had to scurry about half the time to make sure I never came near Daeron, and had to carry no harp, and never sing or play. It was vastly annoying."

"Why? He is a singer too, I remember," Earendil says to him.

Maglor is one of the only people he can ask about the past, for the most part. Like for Doriath, because he can't ask Nimloth or Elwing [it's too sad for both, and also Elwing can't even remember, she was too young], or Elrond [he doesn't want him to say 'wow, everything you guys did or places you went were ruined because of your fuckups as a group, huh?]. And Dior is dead forever; and he can't ask Elwing's brothers, he doesn't know them and would never want to upset them.

And he would never talk to Doriath people without Elwing's okay, and doesn't want to, anyway. Also, Melian is evil. So that's a dead end.

"We didn't want any friction," Maglor explained. "Even if we Noldor are very polite to the other types of elves, they have a chip on their shoulder about us being 'better', verily. So we were concerned they'd become offended, even if we hadn't meant to offend them. It was easier to just keep me in the background, away from him. They say he tried to seek me out, having heard of my reputation for music, but my people made sure to help me hide well indeed, and they all told him I was some amateur, that was the best of the Noldor, because we as a race do not value music as highly as smithing and inventions and gems and all that. Anyway, the other types of elves love to drink even more than we do, so it was a waiting game until he was distracted by that. Only regular elves played music at the party, people told me afterwards. I was kind of 'hiding' outside. Eugh, elves."

"Do we really look different, do you think, to you?" Earendil asks him.

"Yes, in your radiance," Maglor answers immediately, petting his ankle. It's nice. "Like if you compare your features to mine, yours are more perfect, and seem to be more fair and more luminous. The same for the rest of you. You simply look 'better'."

"The elves always act like we're different," he grumbles a little. "Even if we don't do anything."

"Oh I think that's about them being astonished to be in the presence of someone great," Maglor hypothesizes. "I mean, I definitely felt awe to see both of you that first time. You're so famous, you're anomalies because of that. Not just your blood."

"I know she is sorry that she scared you, here, that first time," Earendil hastens to remind him, about how Maglor first saw Elwing up close when she showed him the silmaril and he jumped into a river here in new Rivendell. Everyone had been angry about it then, except for Maglor.

Maglor huffs a laugh, leaning back against the upright part of the couch. "I'm sorry we hurt her – twice. Three times? Whatever number is appopriate," he says, more somber. "We ruined her life. It is sad for me doubly – triply – of course; I so dearly look upon you both, and yet have to know what I did to you. That is true punishment. Other elves wouldn't understand."

"Even if you weren't there, it all still would have happened," Earendil argues. "By being willing thieves, we, they, wrote their destinies."

"That's really easy to think until you're the one that's the monster," Maglor says dryly, and then smiles at him. "Then you realize that no justification makes killing worth the hurt you do to your own soul, with that violence. Now – you were asleep for a long time. Do you want to eat?"

"Yeah," he decides.

With Maglor, he doesn't have to go along with the nebulous interchangable [mostly] elves and pretend to act like them. Maglor often will correctly predict what they [the non-elves] want or wish to do before they even have decided it.

It's very convenient, to be honest. He is the one regular elf person [other than Idril and Nimloth, obviously – they are in their own category, being of blood to them all] they can all be honest with; he never acts like they're oddities.

"I shall call for something," Maglor says, getting up to summon a page.

It's all normal for him; for Earendil it feels a bit odd, to do it. He did not have the same type of life, not with Idril keeping the elves from gawking at him in Gondolin.

Suddenly a flower petal creeps up one of the window panes, and he knows it's Elwing immediately. He can sense her, or something.

"Can I eat with you guys?" she asks.

Maglor starts, surprised to hear her voice, and looks around but doesn't seem to understand that she is the flower petal on the glass.

"Yes – I can't see you, though," Maglor says. "Are you invisible? Glorfindel always says he'd love to be, and hear gossip, but I think he's too sensitive to really hear it. He's so easily affected by other people."

A page comes, and Maglor is distracted, giving them orders.

The petal disappears and Elwing appears next to him on the couch, in his lap. He offers her his juice glass and she drinks from it, in her way.

"I think he's just only affected by you cause he loves you so much," Elwing tells Maglor, when he comes back.

He blinks at seeing her suddenly there, on the couch.

"No," Maglor tells her, looking embarrassed, the way elves do – without red in their face, mostly. "He's just delicate."

"Why are you embarrassed about being loved?" she asks him simply.

Maglor opens his mouth and shuts it again.

"You don't mind that we love you," Elwing adds. Well, that's true, he thinks. Maglor really is part of their family, and is one of the few elves that's over on their non-elven side, in their world.

"That's different, you're Elrond's family. I was always going to love you – you're just like him. So I was predestined to like you both too," Maglor dismisses. "It's different with Glorfindel. He's always … around. He should be with someone amazing; instead he wants to waste his time with me. You two have each other, it's proper, you're both royals; he seems to just want to be with me, despite it being so totally inappropriate."

Earendil looks at Elwing to see if she thinks he sounds crazy, and she nods at him, and he can tell from her soul or higher osanwe, whatever, that she does too.

… Like the three of them being so close isn't technically 'inappropriate' [in the opinions of the elves]? The elves have a lot of rules, most of them very conservative, though he's heard that some groups of them shun all rules, to the point of going too far, even.

"I think he's just really into you," Elwing tells him frankly.

"Yeah," Earendil agrees. The two of them are always focused on each other, in a weird romantic-banter way; whereas Maglor and Finno are clearly more brothers/family instead.

Honestly, it almost reminds him of himself and Elwing, how they loved being together right away when they met as children. Of course they were more boring and young, and less 'adult-witty', but still.

Maglor is saved from more embarassment by the page arriving with tea and other delicacies. He goes and brings it in.

"I am banning all talk of Glorfindel," he declares to them, setting a tray down on the nearby table, and checking the paper with it, of the 'secret food poison avoiding list'. "I don't mind if you murder me for what happened in the past, but really, teasing me about him is beyond the pale. Let the punishment fit the crime. You don't see me talking about how the two of you look so sweet together."

Elwing laughs.

"Now eat something, so I feel better about tiring you," he tells Earendil, who does. They all eat, actually.

Maglor's weird diet of only soft food makes it less uncomfortable to eat in front of him; and also the whole 'he's one of them, almost' part makes it easier too.

They eat thick bread with white clam chowder, and there are multiple types of paella with meats and vegetables. He and Elwing also eat the crispy sticks of egg-fried toast with syrup, that's one of their shared favorites. And there are sweet cold creams, some harder with toppings and some as liquid milkshakes for Maglor, though he has them try them too.

There are some slices of all types of pies, too, but he knows that some of them are altered because Maglor knows how he doesn't care for alcohol – like there's a slice of chocolate bourbon custard pie, just without the liquor in it.

He cut the pies pieces into thirds, and gives them out to Maglor and Elwing. Maglor can eat pie easily, since the filling is always soft. They try:

-ocean beach pie, but Maglor doesn't want to try the crust, which really makes it amazing; finally he does, and chews it forever, and agrees it's good
-strawberry lemonade pie, which they like and Maglor finds too tart
-salted caramel apple pie, they all like it; it's like vitréais, which they all like already
-peach raspberry pie, which is only okay, they all agree
-banoffee pie, which they all like
-pithivier with almond sweet cream inside, which Maglor likes more than they do [it's similar to a galette des rois, which the elves seem to love, he's noticed]

After they eat, they all rest there for a little bit. Maglor actually seems to do it like they do, to want to be still and reposeful after eating.

"Yes, why are you like us after food?" Elwing asks him.

Maglor is currently on the couch beside them, tilted far to one side, laying on the pillows.

"Eating always makes me tired," he tells them. "Sometimes I try to power through; othertimes, no. I think it's really just that when I kind of died on the shore before, I got used to being dead-ish, and so my body has to work harder to do all this labor it didn't have to do for so long. Elrond thinks the memory of that reality still affects me now, more than a body thing. Like I'm so used to it that I can't adjust or something."

It's hard to imagine Maglor being dead, even though he looked almost dead before the remaking. Even though they started out as enemies, it had been terrible to see him so reduced and ruined, then. So corpse-like and in pain.

There had been times he would come over to see everyone, and was told that the rooms were shut up because Maglor wasn't feeling well. Elrond and Glorfindel had always been worrying about him.

Now Maglor looks more well and strong, but he is very thin, for an elf. Elrond has told him that he cannot fix it, that Maglor is just like this, for now. Comparatively, Earendil looks like he's three people in terms of height and muscles.

A little while later, Glorfindel pops up and knocks on the door, asking, "Why wasn't I invited to this threesome? I'm good looking enough."

"Glorfindel," Maglor immediately scolds him. "There is a lady present."

"She was singing drinking songs with me last week at that party," he protests.

"I don't care, that's not right," Maglor says, and goes after him, verbally.

"His shirt was off. He's almost good looking, for an elf – not as good as Earendil," Elwing suddenly says, and he puts his hands over his face in sheer self-consciousness and mortification. And pleasure, too.

"Do you think he beats me?" Glorfindel asks Maglor, teasing him.

"I think you both lack what's really attractive – skill in music," he insists to him, and they go off, arguing.

He can hear them as they walk away, while Glorfindel demands to know if he'd pick Daeron over him, if Daeron were still alive and also, in that case, not trying to kill him [due to the sacking of Doriath, and the kidnapping of two Luthien descents, and driving another to suicide.]

In the distance, Maglor says 'I guess we'll never know', just to taunt him, he can tell.

He and Elwing rest more for some time where they are, and then go on a walk outside together in nature, him as him and her as an unlit white long taper candle that he carries with him.

Later they take a bath together, and make love, and rest on the bed. Sometimes he feels like no amount of rest will ever let him feel peace, after what happened.

He can't forget being so scared when Gondolin fell, when Glorfindel died to save them, when almost getting murdered by that evil elf – Aredhel spelled his doom, that horrid little harridan. Thank goodness Fingon hates her like Earendil does, it makes it so much easier, when they can both complain about her errors and share their anger, than to be alone and angry in silence. [Same re Turgon, and Finwe, and Feanor.]

It's not like he can talk to his parents about it all. They live in halcyon domestic bliss together, and Earendil is loath to bring up anything negative in the presence of their devoted love for each other. He and Elwing are more normal, and have their own interests: she talks to rocks and sea creatures and birds, and flies around, and hangs out with her family, and he sometimes sails, and hangs out with Maglor and Glorfindel and Finno.

Anyway, all that actually over time has begun to feel like it pales in comparison with what he and Elwing did. It's one thing if it's you getting hurt, it's another if it's your parents, and it's quite another if it's your children. It was way easier to fear for himself and his parents than it was to feel hysterical, thinking about their little boys being tortured to death – by either the Feanoreans or Morgoth's servants.

And then after living in fear for so long, to have to face Elrond himself. Terrifying.

Not to mention Glorfindel, who knows what he did, and Maglor, obviously, who really knows what he did [and to him, too.]

Finno stops by the next day to invite him to go hunting with them, after Elwing has left to see Idril and Tuor. He feels a tiny bit alienated from his parents, honestly, but Elwing is the opposite, he thinks. She wants as much family as she can get, now.

He goes with Finno over to his house, which has lots of people there – Elrond, Glofindel, Maglor, Finrod. There are horses there too, for them all, and servants. Everyone has archery gear, and Fingon gives him some; he has extra sets already ready for everyone, brought over by pages.

Elrond and Maglor though don't wear a bow and arrow, and he wonders why, but doesn't ask. Is it the whole 'won't kill' [due to healing for Elrond] and 'doesn't feel comfortable killing' [due to his past for Maglor]?

It's a nice day, with a crisp breeze as they all head out. Finrod and Fingon really do the best at the actual 'kill animals to eat them' part.

Mostly Earendil just rides with them for the company, not to actually hunt anything. Actually, most of his experience with a bow and arrow [or a sword] is fighting horrific monsters, so. He's keen not to fight or kill anything either, honestly.

But regardless, it's fun to listen to everyone have a good time.

After Finrod and Fingon take down a few animals, they all go back to new Rivendell and servants carry off the animals to the butchers, and the other workers, who use all the parts of the carcass for different purposes.

Naturally, then they all party. Elves love parties, he's noticed.

He doesn't know where they get the energy for it. Gil-Galad shows up at some point, as several of them are having archery competitions, having pages put targets out in the forest, far off.

Nelyo watches them compete, Elrond is the judge of it, and Maglor argues with Glorfindel the entire time about the art gallery exhibit they saw together recently. Eventually a light repast is provided, and Maglor tells Glorfindel 'if you don't watch yourself, I'll ask someone else to get me some food' as some kind of threat.

Glorfindel suddenly kisses him, in public, thought no one really notices except Earendil, who is watching both shows [them, and also the archery battle.]

Maglor looks absolutely floored and sits there in silence afterwards. "I am outraged," he finally informs him. Glorfindel laughs wickedly. "Go get me some food so that I can forgive you, eventually."

He gets up and does. He waves for Earendil to come with him, so he goes. The food provided includes Deerfield pie, which Finrod seems to like a lot.

"Finno's doing the best," he tells him, as they pick out what food to try. "But someone's brother says someone else would be even better, if he tried and got back into practice, due to how strong his hands are, for obvious reasons. I guess you'd be the best though, right."

Maglor, he means, due to his endless harp playing.

Earendil shrugs. "I usually mostly have used a sword."

"You know what I'm good at?" Glorifindel tells him. "Horseshoes. I bet I can beat everyone here."

He hands Earendil his plate, looking inspired, and goes to get a page to set up a horseshoes game situation.

Earendil finishes making up their little plates, and adds stuff for Maglor on a third one, and carries them over to where Maglor is sitting on the ground. Nelyo is up by Finno, trying to coach him, but is really just there for moral support.

"Glorfindel wants to play horseshoes," he tells Maglor, setting the little plates down.

"Does he. Hm … I'm going to destroy him at it," Maglor muses, looking a little too into it.

Glorfindel returns with the servants who set it up, and then Earendil watches them play. Maglor asks him if he wants to play too, and he says okay, and tries. He's alright at it.

They continue playing against each other.

These two literally cannot stop competing against each other; and the other group, he notices, has switched from archery to darts. And they are all drinking.

Earendil is really the only one who doesn't, though Maglor doesn't drink much really either. It's easier to go to functions like these when Maglor is there, because his preferences require extra sets of food – and things Earnedil prefers often show up too, like more beverages that are not just wine.

They do sometimes expand into drinking port and sherry. He's not a fan of that, either.

Later most of them are laying in the grass, some passed out drunk and others just in the strange reverie of the elves. Maglor is sober, and Elrond too.

After Maglor and Glorfindel stopped testing each other, Elrond came over and got Earendil to play against him. He isn't sure who did better, because he was focusing on talking to him. Elrond isn't someone you 'kinda' pay attention to. Especially not after their history.

Maglor made up a new plate for both of them while they played, and afterwards they went and sat with him and tried the food. Glorfindel is next to him, quite inebriated, with an arm wrapped around one of his legs, and his head resting against it too. It's pretty cute; there's a big size difference between them.

"I don't know if I really love hunting," Elrond contemplates as he drinks his iced tea. "I mean it's pleasant, being out with everyone. But I wouldn't be actually doing it myself, you know. I remember you both used to go with Finrod to, am I right, my friend?"

Maglor nods.

Weirdly, Elrond sometimes calls Maglor 'my friend' or even 'Lindir', still. Honestly, Earendil had really expected him to call him 'father'. But he never has … when Earendil has been around, at least.

"Finrod's a huge fan of it," Maglor agrees.

The elf in question is currently passed out over by Finno and Nelyo; Nelyo seems to never get drunk, which seems sad, it makes one think of his suffering.

"Shall you play for us, Kano?" Nelyo asks him. "And you all, if you wish it."

"Of course," Maglor answers, and puts his drink down. "Let us go back into civilization for it. Where should you like it?"

Finno considers this. "Our house is out here," he suggests, sitting up.

Earendil tells Maglor with osanwe, 'My house is closer, nearby. It could be there.'

"What about Earendil's house?" he asks Nelyo. Earendil assumes he's really asking 'do you want to be resting in your own bed as you listen or is this a casual thing.'

"That is fine, as long as you don't mind," he notes, looking at him; Earendil nods to him. Servants pick up everything where they are when they leave; it feels strange to be waited on by elves, to be honest.

Glorfindel carries Finrod back to town to rest in his 'visiting' rooms, which are kept reserved for him always, and the rest of them walk out to Earendil's house.

Inside, Maglor's harp is there as it has been, and they all sit down to listen to him play.

He plays a few songs, all incredible, and it's very nice. By the time Earendil wakes up, [Maglor's music can easily put him to sleep, after it ends, due to how intense it is emotionally], it's night time. He sits up sluggishly and realizes that Elrond is on the couch nearby, with a pillow covered in blankets, like he is, too.

He can sense Elwing as well, by him.

Finno and Nelyo are on another couch together, but just in reverie of course, as is their way. And Maglor is there nearby in a chair, working on a music score.

Maglor notices him moving and tells him with osanwe, 'Your wife is here. She told me she wanted to be Elrond's pillow. I don't want her to be squished, but she said it's okay, and that she won't be bruised by it.'

He nods to him, to reassure him. A shape Elwing takes is not 'her' literally, so if she 'were' a glass drinking goblet and it was dropped and shattered, nothing would happen to her. Her form is irrelevant to her real self.

He walks out to the latrine, and then back, takes a sip of water, and goes to sleep to the sound of Maglor penning his score. It's weirdly soothing, the little noises of his pen on the paper, and him turning the page once in a great while.

When he wakes up, Glorfindel is there, awake, next to Maglor on the sofa, who is in reverie. Elrond is gone, and Elwing too [as a pillow and in general].

Glorfindel looks over at him and smiles. 'Elrond and his mom went out to look at fish and stuff,' he tells him. 'And the other two went back to their house. Don't worry, Maglor covered you up with the blanket so they didn't see you with your eyes shut."

He says this like it's some extremely good, helpful thing, so Earendil nods hesitantly.

"That's … nice?" he asks.

Glorfindel looks amused. "It's to keep the elves from being all 'fascinated'. Maglor has always done it for Elrond, otherwise elves find it captivating, to see how different other creatures are. We don't let random elves look upon the ringbearers like that either," he explains.

Oh. Well, it is nice to think nobody's allowed to gawk at him while he's dead to the world.

"I greatly desire to obtain mannish sleep, myself," Glorfindel admits to him. "I have tried to reach it before, but with little success."

"Really? What does reverie feel like?" he asks, curious.

Glorfindel considers the question, and looks down at Maglor, who is literally in it at the moment. "Uh, I guess like you're unfocused. Like everything is blurry, and you're lost in your own thoughts, and you're not paying attention to anything. I mean resting reverie though, not 'reverie while doing stuff'. That's more like multitasking."

Elwing he knows can do three things: sleep, reverie or a weird third thing. That third one seems to do something the maiar do instead, which isn't really visible but she says she can feel it if she 'rests'. Often she prefers to pretend to sleep/imitate sleeping beside him when he does, and 'rest' in her maian way at the same time, so they match. Other times she does the other options.

"Why do you want to sleep?" Earendil asks him.

Glorfindel looks surprised. "Because it looks so nice," he tells him seriously. "Where do you go, when you are like that? It's like you're far away. It looks so mysterious and refreshing."

"I think the best comparison is being tired and then resting for a moment, that feeling of recuperation is what it is, I think," he explains. "I feel like my mind is shut off, like if you fall unconscious. It's the same as that."

"Like passing out drunk?" Glorfindel asks, and he nods. "Oh, interesting. Elrond never gets drunk, in case somebody needs him as a healer."

After a bit, Maglor comes out of his reverie and Glorfindel discusses the breakfast situation with him, as Maglor starts paying attention to the real world.

"I'm actually going to eat," he tells Earendil. "Do you want to join us – here or in our usual rooms?"

"Here is fine with me," Earendil agrees, and so Glorfindel orders some food and drink for the three of them.

"I'm not hungry," Maglor tells Glorfindel, who says to his face that he's ignoring him. "Was he always this obnoxious?" Maglor asks Earendil.

"Don't tell him!" he immediately yells, pointing at Earendil, while still looking at Maglor. "That's cheating, so much. What, can I go to Feanor and ask about you?"

Maglor starts almost giggling, making both of them feel a little scared, in some indefinable way.

"Ahhh," he finally says, calming. "Absolutely. I bid thee, go for it. My father makes even the Valar lose their minds because he's insane. Good luck!"

"Maybe I will," Glorfindel says primly, making Maglor laugh again.

Thankfully the food arrives, and they get distracted by arguing over and about, waffles. Earendil drinks some water and has a blueberry muffin while they discuss the best way to eat them [Maglor drowns his in syrup of course, so they are more 'soft', and Glorfindel insists you have to have fried poultry with them, and honey.

"Besides crepes are the more Noldorean food," Maglor adds, and then looks at Earendil. "What do you think?"

"I like pancakes," he offers, and Maglor smiles. Glorfindel agrees to compromise and say pancakes are good too while he hoovers up some shirred eggs and biscuits.

Maglor still eats very sparingly, while Glorfindel casually eats cinnamon sugar pastries that are as big as his head. It's quite the contrast.

"Don't forget, there's that story telling session today," Glorfindel reminds Maglor, who shrugs.

"I'm not going, I don't even want to get caught up," Maglor insists. "You know I have no use for stories, unless I need an idea for a song theme. And I'd get a book out for that anyway. Those sessions are so uninteresting."

"I never go to them either," Earendil interjects, drinking some juice.

" … You're both impossible," Glorfindel declares, drinking a tomato juice concoction and eating the celery stick that's in the glass. "I'll go by myself then."

"You could literally get anyone to go with you," Maglor says, exasperated. "Throw a pebble, it will hit an elf that will go with you. I bet even Erestor would."

"Pshhh," Glorfindel decries.

"Isn't he always working?" Earendil asks.

"Yes," Maglor admits, "but Glorfindel's mangificence could bowl over anyone; mostly they're just blinded by his outfits, but at some point they notice he's attractive. Everyone thinks he's good looking."

"You're part of everyone," Glorfindel preens a little. It's very funny to watch.

"i think you're acceptable for a blond," he corrects. "Temper your excitement."

Glorfindel doesn't stop smiling though, which eventually prompts Maglor to thow a pillow at him.

He gets Earendil to go with him, after promising they are totally fictional stories [nothing about real elven history.] The bard tells a long part of a story about some made up war in some made up place.

Afterwards, they walk back to Elrond's rooms and he asks him how he liked it.

"I hated it," Earendil tells him honestly. "I can barely handle our real history, much less care about some fake stuff. I can tell the speaker has talent in recalling the tale, but I don't like to hear it."

"But it's so romantic," Glorfindel protests.

It is. But that just makes him think of how all the elves were gleeful at combining the bloodlines of Elwing's ancestors and his own, and making more 'higher' children. As if they were breeding plants together to make better, special fruit. Or animals.

It wasn't a good feeling, then. And he hasn't forgotten it. They are simply rare objects to elves, not people. Only Elrond's inner circle treats him like a real person.

"You're just too pragmatic," Glorfindel concludes. "This is about whimsy, about imagination. About a beautiful mystery."

" … I agree, I am too sensible for it," he concurs.

Glorfindel looks amused.

Back at Elrond's study, they find everyone getting ready to go play chovgan. "Have you tried it?" Elrond asks him, as he puts on sporting clothes.

Even Maglor has them on, so this must be a royal thing.

"No," he admits. But he can't remember his childhood well. So maybe they played it and he does not recall it. Like Elwing, he tries not to think of the past.

"Let's see if you like it," Elrond decides, and off they go. They don't make Earendil wear different clothes, but Glorfindel gives him one of his 'sporting cloaks' for this particular sport.

They ride out to a particular area, and Maglor tells him on the way that it is also called 'pulu', or 'sagol kangjei'.

Then they take Elrond's croquet mallets and use them to hit a ball all over, just on horseback. He's actually pretty good at it. They all deliberately hit him the ball on purpose, so he can practice trying to play.

"This is a sport of kings," Maglor tells him, as they get off their horses for another recess, a long pause interval. "Did you care for it?"

There are a lot of breaks in this sport; this must be why Maglor and Finno feel comfortable having Nelyo play it.

"I suppose it's alright," he allows. "I don't know that I'd push to do it, in particular."

Maglor nods.

"What about racing horses?" Elrond asks him. "Or takagari?"

"What's that?" he asks, and Elrond explains that it involves using falcons to hunt.

"I only like one bird, I don't want to not be loyal," Earendil jokes, and they both smile, knowing he means Elwing. "And I don't think I'm one to ride a horse hard just for pleasure, and not for need."

Elrond clearly has had a proper royal upbringing, because he and Maglor are good at all the 'royal' games, like this and chess, shogi, the glass bead game, and shovillaborde.

"Well there is always cave diving, exploration, and qajaq, on the water," Elrond suggests. "Or fara á skíðum, on the snow."

"I do like snow," Earendil offers. "It can be very beautiful."

"Then we must see if you like snow sports," Maglor tells him, and then switches to osanwe. 'But not with Finno, we must not speak of it before him. It's too much of a reminder.'

Elrond nods seriously.

So they do, they go up into the peaks around new Rivendell and go sledding, and skiing, and spongee-ing. Nelyo and Fingon don't come of course. And despite wearing a million layers of clothes, Maglor is very good at most of the snow sports. Elrond is pretty skilled too.

"Curling's okay," he decides one afternoon, when they're out at a little complex built higher up on the mountains.

They take breaks after being out in the cold, and go inside for hot chocolate drinks and other things. [Elrond has warned him before not to have chocolate near when he wants to sleep.] The elves put chartreuse-colored elixir végétal liqueur in their cocoa drinks, but he does not.

"No, ice climbing is the best," Glorfindel informs him. Elrond laughs.

"Fishing in the ice is more fun than that," Maglor disagrees. "And snow kayaking is clearly superior."

"You're both wrong," Elrond argues, "yukigassen is unbeatable."

"True," Earendil agrees, and Maglor does as well.

"Absolutely not," Glorfindel says, holding his ground.

Eventually they go back down, and Elrond again asks him how he feels, with osanwe – he'd asked him before while going up, too. 'I don't mind the cold,' he tells him, but Elrond shakes his head, and pulls him off into another room to speak to him privately.

"Altitude can affect people," he explains. "When … you sailed in the saky, did you ever feel dizzy, lightheaded, unwell, ill? Was it hard to sleep? Did you feel tired a lot, or not hungry and sick at the thought of food?"

Earendil pauses.

He actually kept thinking about throwing himself off the ship, which would hopefully result in his death. Of course he felt terrible. He and Elwing had left their toddlers to die, gruesomely.

"Um … sometimes," he hedges, and Elrond looks angry. That must be the wrong answer, then.

"Those are common symptoms of being up higher than you should be, we were not made to be there, high up," Elrond explains, looking like he might light something on fire. "Where we were today isn't very high, but even I can feel the difference, just slightly."

"I didn't feel anything bad, today," Earendil assures him, and he nods.

"Good, I just wanted to mention it," his son explains.

Weirdly, the Valar later give him presents, and send him a written note of apology, that's very vague. He shows it to Elwing, who says that Elrond must have told them he didn't like how they talked to them before, so long ago [back when they made Elwing and Earendil make the choice.]

He doesn't really get it, but it's nice to think that Elrond cares about them. Especially enough to bitch out the Valar. He knows that Elrond and Maglor passionately hate them, and that Glorfindel is still annoyed that he woke up with a hangover when they sent him back to live again in middle Earth.

Chapter Text

In time, he even gets to know Erestor. Erestor is very old fashioned, and often tries to get Elrond to wear more 'appropriate' clothes for special occasions [read: zillions of pounds of jewels and lots of heavy, fancy robes], though he rarely seems to obey, it appears.

Erestor is in charge of 'everything', as Elrond and Maglor say.

When he asks Elrond about him, he says that Erestor is 'the real ruler here, he just wants me to be his figurehead; like if somebody famous comes over here like Finarfin, I'm the one who has to talk to him.'

When he asks Maglor, he says 'Erestor is the highest level of servant. Ones like that assist you in governance, and learn your wishes, and then extrapolate from there … sometimes in a bad way, like with Celegorm, of course. But the good versions are able to handle things the way you want, and only present you with the more unsolvable quandries or issues, to decide on. You have to pick your help very well – for example my people at the gap knew my wishes in all matters, having been with me since I was a little boy, or a youth. So they made the headache of being a ruler much easier for me.'

Eventually he asks Erestor if he can learn about what he does, and he agrees, looking pleased. Elrond and Maglor tell him to say that they 'appreciate his work and knowledge', as neither of them wants to do any of this work, his work.

Though Earendil doubts the Feanorean elves would 'let' them work on 'boring' things like this, since Elrond is their little magical king, whose life they destroyed. And Maglor, all know, should not be kept from writing and performing music – Earendil has even heard his old enemies agreeing about that. It would be a loss to all elves if he weren't creating it and playing.

"Can I ask you, what are you doing all the time, when I see you once in a while?" Earendil says. He's noticed Erestor all the time, of course, but mostly as he goes from one thing he's doing to another.

Comparatively, elves like Finno do literally nothing but leisure acitivites. No offense to Finno, obviously – his old hobby of heroism doesn't really have any potential here in Aman, now.

Erestor looks amused. "I try to 'run' everything. I am the central person all the elves come to with their issues – I organize everything, and delegate to the right people, when needed. So if repairs or rebuilding is needed somewhere, or more goods, or more food, or more animals, I arrange for all that to be taken care of. If Lord Elrond's healers told me they need more of a certain plant for medicine, then I would say, write to Lady Galadriel asking to trade for it, or purchase it outright. Or if there is a complaint, question, concern about something, I handle dealing with it. Things like that."

"Do you like doing it?" he asks him.

Erestor looks surprised. "Yes," he judges. "I was pleased to come from Lord Tylpe's service into Lord Elrond's. Lord Elrond is … very intellectual. Extremely wise. I am pleased to keep the mundane work of the settlement off of him, out of his area of focus, so that he can concentrate on more important endeavors, like his healing work, and learning, and medical invention."

"Is Elrond like Tylpe? He had a city before, right," Earendil asks.

Erestor nods at the city-Tylpe mention. "No, Lord Elrond has no interest in the typical quirks of the Noldor rulers. He prefers that skill trump blood, as much as we regular elves can bear it. So his attendants in the healing halls are all types of elves, not the typical cream of the crop, as it were. He only cares about an elf's resonance with healing energies, as that seems to be crucial for being a top healer, he has said. Many elves have actually permanently changed what they do in this sense, after asking him to 'read' or look at them, or examine their souls, however he'd phrase it."

Erestor, he learns, manages the taxes, administration and the civil infrastructure of the town, and the Lindon elves meet with him at times to discuss if they would like anything built for them, by Elrond's Feanoreans.

The Lindon elves only have small amount of servants and workers, and the work they do is light – Elrond's people do all the more intense, constant, serious work for both sides of the town.

He also keeps track of how much money he is spending on behalf of Elrond's part of the town for various goods and services. He is the one who tells which elf to do what, and if one of them wants to switch jobs, they talk to him. This way there aren't too many people baking bread, but not enough people growing wheat, or grinding it, either.

He also recruits people for, "Lord Elrond's special projects. Certain healing areas need volunteers at times, and I have a compendium of who was wounded how – and if and when and how Lord Elrond has treated them. So if he makes a breakthrough in say foot treatment, then I can immediately speak to all those elves who were ever hurt there before, if they want to talk about it with him. Even now, after the remaking, people want their old area of injury soothed."

Earendil nods, listening to him in his parlor room. He has a giant complex that is just about town function, that he works in, and is in charge of.

"I sort through everyone's complaints – more serious ones I research, and then present it all to Lord Elrond. Then he passes judgment. In terms of emergency planning, I handle checking that as well, that we would be ready to respond in case of fire, natural disaster, attack, or something like that, in terms of having ready food stores for the entire population here, including the Lindoners, and Lady Galadriel's people, and King Thranduil's, who may all come here during a time like that. The same for our stores of backup medicines, bandages, things like that."

Erestor pours them both more juice and drinks some of his. "In terms of suggestions, Lord Elrond is very open to people's ideas, regardless of who they are or what the idea is on. Everyone knows this, and so sends in special letters in a particular way. I have one of my assistants add them all to a particular notebook, and then each month I review them with Lord Elrond. He then speaks to them individually about it. I also keep the calendar for the hunters, farmers and domestic breeders, though they know their own work – so that we can adjust if say the hunters could find no boar for the kitchens, I arrange for them to seek out more of other animals, if possible, without upsetting the natural balance of the forest. Or we turn to our animal husbandry experts, seeing if they can do anything."

Earendil drinks some of his own juice. "I also inform different groups of elves when political events are happening – say if King Finarfin were to send word he was coming. Then many groups must know at once to prepare: the housekeepers to check that extra rooms are ready and refreshed for him and his party, the laundry must process any extra linens that are needed, the kitchens may need to plan specific meals, things like this. Most of the royal elves that come here prefer to stay in Lord Elrond's area, as it's an easier set up for guests."

And everyone knows the Feanoreans are excellent hosts, when they're not trying to kill you, Earendil thinks. He's been a guest here, in new Imladris, before Elrond gave him his house; it is very nice, way more fancy than any other elven place he's stayed.

His guest room even had books on sailing in it! That had to be done on purpose.

He has no doubt the Feanoreans here do that for all the royals, customize it for them.

"I work with elves that want to try new projects, and learn new skills," Erestor explains. "It is thought wise to switch one's study at times, and then back, in order to broaden and strength the mind. So elves submit to me a request to be trained in another area, and then I have an assistant go to the managers of that area and discuss it with them first, how to integrate this, so that this new person does not disrupt the workflow, yet they are taught."

"Like Glorfindel and painting?" Earendil asks, and he agrees.

"Yes, exactly," Erestor accedes. "Of course, I have many assistants that specialize in certain types of work or knowledge, making all this much easier. One important thing is that we also monitor are the basics: water quality, sources and access, protecting the food we grow and the animals we breed for food, and how we dispose of waste."

He tells him about how he also keeps all the records [about all the elves' skill specialties and knowledge who live in the town on their side of it, about money, about any contracts they have – like with dwarves or something, for example], for trade especially, which is still enormous here, just like it was in middle Earth, Elrond has told him.

The Feanoreans are master craftsmen, and work constantly out of their own desire, resulting in large amounts of rareified goods that they are willing to trade. So he keeps track of who sold what, and what the taxes are on the sales, and then who gets however much money after it 'goes to Elrond' first. Which is the facade of it all that allows the rest of the elves in Valinor to buy things.

The idea seems to be, what outsider doesn't like the idea of Elrond profiting off of his kidnappers' work?

Of course Erestor talks about the truth to him, and seems to know that he's on the inside of Elrond's circle here already. "While we need to trade for nothing, from the outside," Erestor tells him, "we still do buy a few small items from other areas, to keep up good ties with everyone. And of course it is countenanced, as it is said that it is Lord Elrond that has requested it."

It's kind of funny, how Elrond does whatever he wants – like giving the Feanoreans the money they earn, just less any taxes Erestor applies to their sales. Earendil likes the idea of him not obeying the intangible rules of the elven world, and being free, and rebelling in his own oddball ways.

Earendil can't really rebel, himself, since he isn't actually part of any elven society. For most of life, he's only lived on his ship, by himself.

They talk for a while, it's interesting. Then Erestor goes back to work.

Now that Earendil doesn't sail in the sky, he has no 'work', himself. He walks out of the area to go back to Elrond's rooms only to find that elves are waiting for him already, outside Erestor's administration complex.

"Lord," one of them tells him, "Lord Elrond is lightly indisposed. Lord Makalaure asked us to come to you directly, and tell you to stay forthwidth away from the whole area of his rooms, and the same for Princess Elwing, in case somehow you either could be affected by the situation. He feels you would not be pleased with it, even though it is very mild, and nothing serious at all. We here have not been near Lord Elrond or that area recently, which is why we were asked to deliver this message. So there is little chance of contagion from us."

He nods, understanding, and goes home, and finds Elwing [at her mother's house], and relays the news to them. "Elrond is a little sick. They didn't say with what, just that Maglor warned us to not come by, worried that we'll get sick too."

Nimloth understands, and tells them about Dior's illnesses. Elwing's brothers are there sometimes, and at others go out hunting. Earendil has said hello to them, but doesn't spend time with them, as they remind him of how they had two twin boys too … but not anymore. Thankfully Elured and Elurin are not really interested in him, instead they are busy with their life of the outdoors and their adventures together.

In the interim, Elwing and Earendil don't go back into the rest of new Rivendell, fearing that the sickness could be caught by them by being near any elves – while elves won't become ill, they could unknowingly pass it on to them.

Now that he is very close to Maglor, when he feels sick he doesn't go hide out on his ship until he feels better. Instead he lets him come over and take care of him, and if Elwing is feeling unwell too, Maglor will call for Lady Nimloth to come as well, with her consent.

[Elwing doesn't actually need another woman, but Maglor is from his very proper culture, and so 'can' only do certain things for a lady, like lay a cool cloth on her forehead, or hold her hand, or bring her beverages. She likes the attention, and Nimloth likes to have someone else that will help her know when to come over, because the two of them like his intervention. Typically before, they kind of hid it when they were sick, not liking being so afflicted and different; also, when you're sick you just don't want to deal with anyone, really. Especially not the damn elves, who never get sick, those bastards.

But Maglor is different, since he took care of the boys, and still takes care of Elrond; and he was sick unto death himself for a long time, on the shore. They don't have to feel like they're a burden with him, like with Idril and Nimloth.

Maglor has no obligation to do anything for them, so it feels different. It feels more like a loving gift.

It always kind of feels a little embarrassing with Idril or Nimloth, who are just regular elves, and have their own lives now. They've never been sick the mortal way. But Maglor took care of Elrond for a long time, and then after Elrond found and cured him, a long time again. So for him it's more 'normal', and you can tell in the way he talks and acts about it. He has a great amount of knowledge about it [not that their mothers don't, of course they do, but it just feels different.]

And so a very tedious bunch of weeks elapses. At least he and Elwing can be together, and go on walks by their house, and play draughts and cards, and gossip about everybody [Elwing tries to read everyone's [except Nelyo's and Elrond's] mind from far away to see if she gets any impressions], and make love.

But it's annoying, to be so restricted from seeing everybody. Really, they've both got used to randomly hanging out with the group, or having fun spur of the moment with someone [some elf they're close to], or going on random adventures because one of the elves is tipsy and thought of something funny to do, or hear Maglor's music at any and all hours, which feels like a privilege in many ways. So does getting to see Elrond, who will set aside his book reading for them, and spends time with them, despite how awkward it still often is.

The two of them go visit Lady Galadriel, at her behest, after they get a letter from her. Elrond's people assure him in another letter that they are only sending servants to drop things off at their house who were not near Elrond or his area of the town, so the chance of contagion is very low. Elwing doesn't want to see Celeborn, becaues he's from Doriath, so Galadriel has him visit Thranduil while they're there; this is hashed out in letters beforehand.

She's pretty good company – probably because she knows Elrond, she seems to understand that Elwing and him are different. She never talks about the past, or about their 'heroism', or has them given glasses of wine only [she lets them choose what they want to drink], or keeps them up at night [they like to sleep, whereas the elves often party all night, for days and days on end. It's pretty wild, honestly.]

She tells them of times she spent with Elrond, and things like that. After their stay with her, they go visit Idril and Tuor, who of course also understand illness because of his mortal blood and Earendil's, too.

He likes his parents very much, but always comes away feeling like a terrible husband to Elwing, comparatively. His father is perfect, while Earendil is just made up of mistakes.

Depite not being able to always understand her, Idril loves Elwing very much and likes spending time with her, and vice versa.

Eventually Maglor sends them an elf with a verbal message – that he and Elrond think Elrond has been well for long enough that they won't catch anything. So they go home.

Elrond comes to see them at Earendil's house, and tells them that he's fine. "Really, we just wanted to be extra cautious, like usual," he explains.

They always do this, wanting to spare everyone else that's susceptible from any suffering. It works the same way if it's Earendil or Elwing that's sick, or her brothers, or Tuor – or the ringbearers [out of extra caution.]

"We missed everything," Elwing tells him. "We couldn't see anybody from here, or watch them play games, and the food wasn't good anywhere else, or the music, or the elves. I wanted to come home and see everyone."

Elrond smiles. "Well, you are here now, so we should enjoy everything. I can easily set the elves to their diversions. I think Maglor and Nelyo and Finno were working on their embroidery, with Glorfindel too. Mayhaps they would like a break. I know Glorfindel is quite poor at it and insists he is sure he will eventually improve."

Earendil knows of this, having asked Maglor before. All the Feanoreans greatly esteem Miriel's skill and passion for needlework, and many still work in it, just out of respect for her. Some even show her their work, or write to her, mentioning it. It is said that this pleases her greatly, to encourage others in her great art.

They go over together to Nelyo's house, and indeed they are all there. "Must we not have a happy celebration, now that you are well again?" Maglor suggests to Elrond.

So they do.

Finno makes a kingly gift of a rare falcon [a Falco punctatus] to Elwing while they're there, and she is very delighted. Because of her great communing with birds, she can be friends with it instead of trying to instruct it or train it.

She and Glorfindel play with it off outside, and it with them, while Maglor plays music for them inside, since Earendil asks him to. They have been without his music for so long, due to Elrond's illness. He has missed it.

It's so invigorating.

Afterwards, he comes back to himself to find that he is upstairs in Nelyo and Finno's house, comfortable and ensconsced in a soft blanket. Maglor is there next to him on a big settee, working on some music scores, and he can hear the elves being quite merry on the floor below. Gil-Galad is singing some very indelicate sea shanty.

"I had Finno carry you up here," he explains to Earendil. "So you could rest in peace."

"Mmm," he murmurs. It's nice to be like this, cozy and warm and with a bunch of people that are close to him.

"Shall we try the party food?" Maglor asks him, getting his attention. "I'll need you later for proof if Glorfindel thinks I haven't eaten today."

"Yes," he agrees, and they both smile, and goes down with him.

The elves are indeed carousing downstairs. And Elrond is playing tawlbrdd with Nelyo, as Finno dances merrily with some other elves. [The Feanoreans that are Maglor's people, in new Rivendell, will sing and play while he is there, unlike the rest of elvendom.]

Outside, some elves are playing quoits. The ringbearers and Gimli and Legolas are there too, all eating while playing cards.

The food is always interesting and different in new Rivendell. At parties, it's even more outré and fancy, but satisfying, too. Not just amuse-bouches.

Today there are roasted pheasant and crane, and roasted pork loin, noodles with sauce and a variety of soft breads, many types of nuts, fruit custard tarts and also fruit salad, roasted vegetables in honey, haya-zushi with seafood [the eel ones have the best sauce, Earendil has figured out over time], fried vegetables and fried dough [Elwing likes this], and many puddings.

The elves mostly seem to be drinking claret, mead or perry. Maglor often also drinks water or herbal cool tea, which is convenient, because Earendil likes those. It's easier when someone else is already breaking all the norms.

Maglor tries some of the little soups that are there, clearly for him, and tells Earendil which he should try too. Then he gets some little soft desserts, and then they go sit and eat with Legolas -– Gimli and the ringbearers are now out playing quoits too, which they are strangely proficient at.

"Lord," Legolas greets them both, and nods.

"What is the news, from the rest of elvendom?" Maglor asks him, as he tries his food.

Legolas looks amused. "Not much, that I have heard. Only that y– … the ruler in Tuna will have another unification event, and wants representatives of the other groups to attend."

That is, all the non-Noldor Finwe's two later sons groups, since the Noldor Finarfin and Fingolfin are the ones hosting it.

"It's ridiculous," Maglor declares. "Shall we do this endlessly?"

"They probably just want to hear you play," Earendil says to him, while eating some fruit salad with caramel sauce on the side.

Maglor grimaces. "I'll play for anyone who wants it, we don't need this nonsense."

"Shall I tell all the elves this, lord?" Legolas asks him, amused.

Maglor sighs, very put upon. "Of course not, they'd all twist it into some insult or something. Eugh. Try this cranachan," he adds to Earendil. "They've left out the whiskey."

It's a sumptuous pudding, it's very good. The party gets a little lively when some of the elves start drinking more; Elrond is now playing mehen with Nelyo, he sees.

These royal elves don't really play simple games like alquerque, morris, latrunculi or nodde. Earendil tries some creme brulée in the meantime. [Maglor won't eat it because of the 'hard' top.]

"Can we play hnefatafl, so I can practice?" he asks Maglor, who agrees, and has a servant bring them a set.

Like chess and mū torere, that is another game that all the royals play. Earendil has never felt so grateful to his mother for raising him a bit 'outside' elven culture, because it seems like a lot of work. And he's aware that it's all heavily toned down for him, that everyone is helping him. Maglor's lessons are nothing like what he had Elrond learn. [He had an aggressive, thorough education.] Earendil's is a cakewalk, a silly fun moment, comparatively.

Finno rolls by, very drunk, and wants to hug Maglor excessively, and tell him how he cares for him, which Maglor tolerates very well. "Do you want me to play for you, to help you into rest?" he asks him, but Finno shakes his head.

"I have to go tell Nelyo he's my favorite person," he says seriously, and scoots off.

Maglor jokes mildly as he goes, "I don't think that's going to be a surprise to him."

Sometimes it feels odd to talk to Maglor, and hang out with him as a friend, [or a 'part of the family' person,] because he witnessed so much of history first hand. He wasn't just there for some of it, he actually was involved in it. Of course for the kinslayings, but also for other events. Lots of famous elves are simply nothing, in Maglor's opinion, even well known ones in the history books.

"Was the music when you were a child different than it is now?" he asks him. "I mean of your people."

He knows all the groups of the elves. The level that they differentiate amongst themselves is wild to him.

Maglor hmms. He sets down the sakura cream cake slice he was trying. "Well, not to sound self-important, but I changed the music world when I was young, when the other royals first heard me play. I don't think any elf had really obsessed over it before to that degree, like my father and jewels, or inventions. So I was the first one, they say. Though since I don't listen to other people's music much if ever, I guess technically I cannot know how music changed overall specifically. But it must have, just as my father's work changed things … hopefully my oeuvre wasn't as cataclysmic, ha. We must ask Finarfin, I suppose."

Next time Finarfin tries to talk to Earendil, he has a question ready to go. This puts Finarfin on the back foot, not expecting it, and then he talks for forty minutes about early music, the Noldor music after they got to Aman, Maglor's music, and how music has been since Maglor left Aman [and then later returned to it.]

Once in a while Earendil is busy with rebuilding his ship – just because it's hallowed [and can fly] doesn't mean it doesn't need to be repaired, and refinished, and all that. He sails it in water mostly now, and keeps it docked in water, so obviously it needs to be looked after.

When he does, Glorfindel comes and helps him, because he 'wants something to do, no one is appreciating me currently at home'. Gil-Galad comes and assists too, saying he doesn't want to be left out. Now that Cirdan is over in Aman, he and Earendil talk sometimes, if he's around his ship, or at the docks.

[Though Cirdan has been mostly living since the remaking near the remade two trees, in honor of his great desire to see them, that he put off for so long.]

After his boat is rebuilt to his satisfaction, he goes back home to new Rivendell. Elwing is often working with Glorfindel on 'special' [literally] effects for the performances there, or she is spending time with her family or Galadriel, or with Feanor re her inventions that they work on together – or with Elrond. At times she goes and asks Maglor about elves or other things, or asks him to play for her.

Maglor is commonly found with Nelyo, either playing for him, or literally just playing máquè with him, and Elrond eventually teaches Earendil how to play it too.

Earendil used to buy plain clothes at the docks, when he needed something, but Elrond set up a 'real' [as Maglor would say] wardrobe for him when he gave him his house. And the servants replenish his clothes at times, without making him do anything, like when his current ones get really old and fall apart, which is nice.

When he goes to fancy functions with people like Finwe, Maglor picks out his clothes at his request now [and used to tell him what he looks good in, before going straight to picking them out.]

Of course Finwe has parties all the time; it's not like he's a real ruler anymore, with the work that entails – that's Finarfin's job, and a few other royals.

One morning, as he gets dressed while Maglor looks through his jewelry cabinets to pick out what to wear so as to be appropriately 'diplomatic' and not shock anyone by accident, Elwing shows up [materializes out of thin air] and says, "Will you pick out my things too?"

"Of course," Maglor replies absently, pouring over different jeweled necklaces. … Apparently Earendil isn't supposed to wear things Feanor has made, despite Feanor having sent him some pretty ones. It's about elven politics, et cetera.

[Maglor picked him out other ones that he had that Tylpe had sent Earendil instead; they were nice too, really, so it was no bad trade.]

Once he asked Elrond what he should wear, only to be told that he should 'wear whatever he likes, the elves like to doll themselves up like literal dolls.' Earendil just doesn't want to stand out more than he's already going to, but it was nice of him to say that, anyway.

Despite Maglor picking out their outfits, he himself does not dress like he 'should', based on what Nelyo wears, or Caranthir, or Fingon.

After Earendil's outfit is sorted, they go over to Elwing's house, and Maglor looks through her clothes, and selects options for her to choose from.

"I want to match us," Elwing interrupts his work, and he looks surprised. "You and Elrond wear dark colors." Earendil looks down at his bright royal blue robe.

"Me too," he agrees.

Maglor pauses, and laughs. "Well, then I must redo you entirely," he says to Earendil, and gets Elwing other alternatives to look at. After she picks from the new 'dark' choices, then he goes to look at her accessories for suitable items.

Then they walk back to Earendil's house, and Maglor redoes his raiment while Elwing comments on it. It's fun to listen to them talk. Elwing likes to talk to Maglor, he can tell. They've never really had a friend before.

Finally they are ready, and go to Elrond's rooms, where Glorfindel complains that the two of them are picking Maglor's aesthetics over his own amazing fashion taste.

"I'm not pretty enough for you to dress me," Elwing tells him casually, and goes in past him, leaving him shocked.

"What do you mean, saying this," Maglor protests, going after her. "You're much too beautiful for someone as silly and gauche as Glorfindel to dress you."

'I think you're pretty,' Earendil tells her, with osanwe, and she smiles back, with it, from the other room [he can feel it.]

Glorfindel looks like he can't wait to argue with Maglor about it all on the way to the party. And he does, as they ride their horses there, to Finwe's palace.

Now that Earnedil knows Miriel, these parties aren't so bad. If Nelyo and Finno are busy, he can talk to her. Maglor of course is busy being swarmed as a celebrity, Glorfindel has admiring crowds of people around him, and Elrond is someone all the kings want to talk to [Finwe, Finarfin, Fingolfin, and Feanor too.] Elwing likes to walk around and just look at the elves, to their confusion. Most kind of cower before her, not understanding that she just wants to see them up close.

Feanor is often with Miriel at these events, and welcomes him over to where he is sitting with her, when he comes by. She looks very queenly, in silver clothes to match her hair, and jewels of all colors set in silver, making Earendil think of Feanor's heraldic device, his crest, how it's all rainbow-y.

Feanor looks more like how Nelyo is dressed, more plain, not like Finwe or Finarfin. [Fingolfin looks in between them both.] At these events, Feanor rarely goes and speaks to his sons [despite them being there], and often stays with Miriel the entire time. When he asked Maglor about it, he told Earendil that his father 'clearly must have some modicum of common sense, to not anger me or Nelyo in public, because we don't care anymore about being proper – we will try to get him to kill himself right there, and he knows it. Well, Nelyo would just ignore him. But I certainly would.'

"Would you like some wine?" Feanor asks him. "Or something else. I do not know if I know what Elrond's type of person prefers, I think I've seen him have many things."

'Type of person' meaning 'non-elf', he understands.

Earendil shrugs. "Just something light, like water or juice," he explains, and Feanor nods, and walks off.

Sometimes elves have servants do things like this; other times, he's seen elves do it themselves for him. Whenever he thinks he's learned a Noldor [or other elf culture] rule, it seems he hasn't, apparently.

Music sounds in the distance, but Earendil can tell it's not Maglor playing … but it sounds really good. So it's music he wrote?

Miriel explains, "Makalaure has brought an invention of his people, cylinders of wax that record sound, letting his songs be heard when there are no players there to play them. Very interesting."

"Oh," he says, surprised.

Thank goodness he has the real Maglor around at home, and can listen to him live all the time. It's far more preferable to hear Maglor directly. It's nice to hear his music played by other musicians, but it's not the same, in a way.

Feanor comes back with drinks for all three of them, and hands them out.

"And how do you fare, Lord Earendil?" Feanor asks him.

"Good, I guess," he says honestly. "How are your inventions, and all that?"

"Well, it depends on the project," Feanor begins, and then talks about several of them for a few minutes – pointing out which ones are Elwing's ideas.

"This is too complex, but it sounds magnificent," Miriel tells him, and smiles, and he laughs.

"It is the same for me," Earendil agrees, nodding.

Feanor looks amused. "Your wife says this to me often, that I must be more clear when I speak to people not already entrenched in the argot. I always forget, until someone mentions it again."

They nod.

"How do you like these events?" Miriel asks Earendil.

"I have not spent much time with the elves of Aman," Earendil explains. "Or the rulers here. So it's not really my world. I only came because everyone else was coming."

And also because it's been fun, to do things with the group, more and more. For Elwing too, he can tell. She likes to come talk to Feanor as well, but currently she's been held up in a conversation with Elmo, who she will allow to speak to her because he is Nimloth's ancestor, despite her usual ban on all Doriath people.

"Nolo isn't so bad," Miriel muses. "Ara seems a little naive. But then he stayed here, for the most part. Fewer life experiences."

"Mother," Feanor protests, "Ara is greatly wise. Just because he didn't make as many mistakes doesn't make him unsophisticated."

"Agree to disagree," Miriel says, smiling. They go on talking about all the elves at the party, and telling Earendil what they think about them. It's very funny.

It helps him remember them, this and also Maglor's talks with him, because there are a zillion elves in Aman, and he's supposed to remember who is who … depsite having never or barely seen any of them, and cared about zero.

Later, Maglor escapes his fanclub and comes over to them. "Hello, grandmother," he says, and hugs her, sitting down to do it, due to her status of having a cane.

"Kano, does it please you to play for me? Or should you like to do other things?" she asks him, as he sits back.

"Of course I do not mind it. Where shall you like it?" Maglor asks.

"Somewhere that will not disrupt the party, I don't want Ara or Nolo to think I have tried to hijack it with my grandson," she jokes. "Feanaro, help me walk down to my rooms."

He does, and she tells Earendil and Maglor to go on ahead, so that Maglor can get his harps ready, and everything. They walk off and Maglor brings him to his childhood bedroom in the palace, back when only he and Maedhros came to visit Finwe and his 'secondary/other Nolo and Ara family'. "I used this room more often as I got older," Maglor tells him as they go in. "But then we stopped coming here, and Finno came to us, instead. And Finwe. Father had us built our own little houses, actually, to work in, but then we all moved to Formenos."

"What is Formenos like?" Earendil asks him, as Maglor looks through harps that are piled up in the room. It's strange to see Maglor's room, with things from when he was young. The detritus of his young life, before he fell into his father's evil.

It's hard to imagine him being a young elf, afraid and led astray by his father.

Maglor always seems so comforting, gentle and reassuring. How sad to think his life was just wholesale bulldozed by his father, instead of having someone as good as himself to be there for him.

"It is really just a copy of our country estate," Maglor explains to him. "Nelyo and I have our own buildings there, to work in. I told Tylpe already that he could use mine if he wishes it, just to put the harps into some safe storage."

Maglor's got so many harps he could probably hand them out to most of Aman's elves, Earendil thinks, amused. Formenos doesn't interest him, since it sounds like it's the same as Nerdanel's house and lands, which he's already been to before.

He follows Maglor down to where Miriel is, in her very elegant, very ornate rooms, and Feanor is gone, now. "I sent him off to play with his other brothers," Miriel tells them. It's always really hilarious to hear her refer to the famous rebel ruler Feanor as a little boy.

Maglor sits down and plays and sings for them.

It's always amazing, gut wrenching, revitalizing. It feels like you can finally breathe deeply again. When he comes back to himself, Maglor is beside him, talking to Elwing. Miriel is gone.

"How were the elves?" Maglor asks Elwing. "You must tell me if they do anything obnoxious, I will correct them."

"They were okay," Elwing says. "Two of them said together that they would love to invite me to their tea. They seemed nice. Despite one being related to that greedy elf. I don't know him – I refuse, I don't care."

"That could apply to so many elves," Maglor contemplates, and laughs. "Do you mean the one who banned Quenya?"

Elwing nods. Ie, Thingol.

"Are the two elf ladies Eärwen and Anairë, maybe?" he asks. "Look into my mind, see who I am picturing."

"Yes, that's them," Elwing agrees. "I always forget the elves' names and faces; there are so many of them, and so many look so alike. Maybe these two ladies would be friendly, and wouldn't be scared of me, or think I'm weird. Do you think so?"

"Well, I can always go tell them what the higher people are like, to prepare them. They haven't met any other types of people, they both stayed in Aman all this time," Maglor proposes, and Elwing agrees, and also asks Maglor to go with her the first time, and he says he will.

It can be helpful, when Maglor does that, or even goes places with them. With him as a go between, the elves seem more able to not be surprised by them. Elves both respect Maglor [his blood and his talent], and fear him [the child stealing, the kinslaying], so they all go straight to begging him to play with no hesitation – they want it, and also, it's a compliment.

Maglor is a great distraction, so fewer elves stare at them in awe – they are busy, preoccupied, with trying to bribe him to perform.

"They are eager for good diplomatic relations between our families," Maglor agrees. "And I'm sure they'll want to hear me play, and all that." He looks at Earendil, and adds, "Grandmother left after I played, because Elwing arrived and wanted to speak with me alone."

He nods.

"Now I want to try that new game of Finarfin's people," Maglor says. "Do you want to as well?" They both agree.

Maglor calls for a page and orders it to be brought, and also sends for some food. "I always like something to drink and eat after I play. Don't tell Glorfindel," he says, making them both smile. The two of them are always saying things about each other.

"I'm happy you were there before with my dead kid," Elwing says, and Maglor looks shocked. Earendil is more used to how she talks of whatever is on her mind.

It's always on his mind too … that just Elrond is here with them, just one child. Never two, never the other boy. Only Elrond.

"Oh," Maglor says in an emotional way, looking sad, and hugs her.

"It's hard to know he picked death over us," Elwing says into his shoulder, and lays her head on it. "But I understand. It is a judgment on our evil."

"I am sorry, child," Maglor tells her. "I wish I had been on the right side of everything, back then, from the beginning."

"That wouldn't work," Elwing points out, still clutching at him. "You'd be back in Aman the whole time, and they'd both be dead."

"I'm sure he just wanted to explore that other world, wherever they go," Maglor adds, re Elros. "And the Valar forced him to choose whether to be able to be free to go there, or to be forced not to, and he chose freedom. "

"Do you think maybe now, after he got to be free for so long, he wouldn't hate us anymore?" Elwing asks him.

Earendil has to take a second to weep. "I don't think he did," Maglor argues. "And he definitely wouldn't now. He's assuredly ruling some realm on some other world, with strange creatures as people, and going on wild adventures all the time. Come and sit with me, both of you."

Maglor comes over with her to sit next to Earendil, and hugs him while she sits on Maglor's lap, putting her hands on both of them. He leans against Maglor's shoulder and closes his eyes, and breathes. Even Feanor's sons never choose death to get away from him … and Feanor is a 'fire in a bucket of apples', as Maglor has said.

"I was very upset, when I found out what he was going to choose," Maglor tells them. "I kind went a little crazy and told Elrond he couldn't leave me – for death, not in the literal location sense. They both already knew they had to go to Lindon eventually, when the roads were safe enough. I wish all this hadn't happened to you two. You didn't do anything to deserve any of it. You were children."

"I didn't give up the stone," Elwing says, in a strange voice. "Everyone told me not to. They said father and mother wanted me to keep it, and they would be angry if I didn't keep it. I was scared."

"It's not your fault," Maglor tells her with finality. "It's mine, or my father's, my grandfather's. Or even your ancestors. But it is not yours."

"Everyone knows I'm the bad one," Elwing tells him, mournfully. "Sometimes they think of me and think of how I got everyone killed."

"Well, elves don't have a reputation for being bright," Maglor tells her frankly. "I mean we needed the Valar to teach us? Really? We couldn't figure it out on our own – that's kind of pathetic, really. And elves also don't understand how complicated the situation was. Besides, people often like to blame others when they can't face their own mistakes; your people could have left Sirion easily, and chose not to. Just like I could have left my father's quest, and chose not to."

"I'm so angry sometimes," Elwing says, and Earnedil agrees, in his heart, silently. She touches his soul with hers and says 'I understand', in her way of communicating.

Maglor hmms. It's nice to lay against him, and feel his arm and hand on his back.

"I am too – and I'm one of the bad guys," Maglor says, almost amused. "You know it's bad when even the villain thinks it was all a tragedy of errors. I never wanted this. Everything I did to try to improve things never worked. It just made it all worse. I almost can't believe it's my life, really. I mean, I'm a harpist. I'm not some kind of Feanor-type character. I'm not even as balls-y as Finarfin, and he turned back!"

"I don't know," Earnedil says to him. "I'm not super into Finarfin."

"Me either," Elwing agrees. "But at least his wife likes birds."

Maglor laughs. "You know, I don't really know any of them, other than Finno. I mean Fingolfin's and Finarfin's kids, families."

"What about your other brothers, they aren't here, at this thing?" Earendil asks.

"Oh no," Maglor says, surprised. "They either don't want to go, or no one else wants them to go."

"What about that one I used to talk to, can't he come? He seemed okay," Earendil says to him, about Caranthir.

"Eugch, really?" Maglor asks him, surprised, "are you serious? He's known to be the most off-putting one of all of us. And that's a real achivement, if you know the other ones, let me tell you."

Suddenly Turgon walks in, and they all look up to see who it is. "Get out," Earendil barks at him, seized for a moment with fury.

He looks startled, and backs away, and shuts the door behind him. "God, I hate him," Earendil tells them, and lays his head back down on Maglor's shoulder.

"Don't worry, we both glared at him too," Elwing assures him, and making him smile.

"I know mine are terrible," Maglor says, "but poor Finno, to have to have his siblings. Ouch."

"I don't think I mind Caranthir," Earendil muses.

"He doesn't seem great at being an elf, like us," Elwing tells them.

"Well, if you really want to see him, I can make him come to you," Maglor says, giving in. "Honestly, Amras is a much better choice."

But Amras is a regular elf, he thinks [and a twin, uh oh]. Caranthir's non-great-elf skills actually make him closer to Earendil and Elwing in a way than to Maglor.

"Are you going to ask to see Curvo and Celegorm next?" Maglor continues. "Because I will make them come apologize to you both, if you would like it."

"Do you think Orome's boy would show me how to talk to moss?" Elwing asks Maglor. "I've tried to learn, but the mosses are so secretive with their languages."

" … Was that last word just plural?" Maglor says, looking discombobulated. "Forget it, don't tell me. Let it be a surprise for me. Yes, of course I will have him come see you. And you tell me if he does anything you don't like – or that I don't like. Or Elrond, too. … Let's cover a lot of ground with that. He did do great evil to your family and your city, though. Are you sure you don't want to secretly ruin his life instead from the sidelines, driving him crazy?"

"No, he's just like his dog," Elwing tells him. "Everyone wanted people dead and to have the stone, so he wanted it done. Over with. He's not thinking about elf-morals, ever. He thinks like he's part of the forest."

"If he does anything bad or rude at all, I want you to leave right away, and come get me," Maglor says seriously. "Will you, please?"

"Yes, but I already can see that won't happen," Elwing explains to him. "He doesn't care about elf stuff. He's not very elf-y. He was with the vala too much; it affected him too young. He doesn't think like an elf, or feel like one."

" … That explains a lot," Maglor says dryly. "I'm just worried he'll say something about your family."

"Oh, that's okay," Elwing says breezily. "I hate my family a lot. They set me up to die, and then I didn't. It would have been way easier if I had. But I'm happy to be here, now, and have fun. If he hadn't killed my father, I'd kill my father now myself. How could he endanger me? … how could I do the same thing, to my … "

To her little kids.

He can feel her horrible, roiling sick feeling of pain and self-hatred and panic and hugs her, and Maglor does too.

"It's not the same," Maglor tells her quietly. "Not at all. It has nothing to do with you. You were a little girl then. Everyone understands that. The people around you made some choices that were not smart, and your enemies – hi – made some even less smart choices. Elrond knows that."

He's pretty sure Elrond actually knows they're idiots. But it is kind of Maglor to be so gentle with them. He appreciates it, and he knows Elwing does too.

When you are at your most fragile, someone being nice to you on purpose, out of empathy and love, really affects you.

Glorfindel walks in then, and they all look over at him, and he exclaims, "What did you do, play sad music? Play something happy for them, my goodness."

They all laugh at him. "What?" he exclaims. "I'm serious. Also, you have to eat something, Lindir. I'm getting food."

Maglor rolls his eyes as Glorfindel argues with him as he steps out to get a page, and then is gone for a moment. "Well, this is your chance to escape the health brigade," Maglor tells them dryly.

"I want to eat," Elwing decides. "And I like Glorfindel."

"You have no taste," Maglor informs her archly. "Well, except in Earendil. He's a much better pick than Glorfindel, if you have to go with blonds."

"Glorfindel's your favorite," Elwing teases him. "I can tell, with magic."

Maglor looks appalled. "I want you to tell him I barely think about him, don't say true stuff. Obviously!"

Earendil laughs at him, and Maglor gives him the hairy eyeball. Elves don't usually make a lot of facial expressions like that, that's he's ever seen, so it's extra funny to see; they are usually more staid, sedate, still. [Unless during real death and chaos, but he tries not to think of Gondolin; seeing all the elves literally hysterical had been extremely scarring, adding to his panic and fear and trauma.]

"I'll tell you what he thinks, if you say I can tell him vice versa," Elwing bargains, and Maglor hesitates.

"Eh … hmmmm," he thinks it over. "Okay. But me first. Then him."

So she does, and Maglor looks very teary-eyed by the end. He clearly did not expect this to be so moving. But Earendil could have guessed it would be.

Anyone who really knows both of them gets it. They are simply adorable about each other.

"I'll go tell him," she says, as Glorfindel walks back in; she takes him with her to another room.

The light repast arrives, and it's not as good as new Rivendell food, of course. In Earendil's opinion.

There's many quiches, and crepes that Maglor warns him have alcohol on them, and also little cups of lobster thermidor [that sauce has liquor in it, he adds.] Earendil sighs [sometimes he doesn't care for the taste of any alcohol, even that used in cooking] and eats the bread basket while Maglor tries the other things in miniature bites. They try the quiches together.

Eventually Elwing comes back from Glorfindel, in the other room, and tells them, "He cried a lot. I think maybe you should hug him. You're good at that."

Maglor rushes off to go to him.

'I am not enthused about the food,' Earendil informs her, and she tries it all herself.

"I agree with your assessment," she says. "I'm glad Maglor agreed with me, just now. I think this is good for him and his friend; it's hard for him to express himself and be vulnerable, after his father and his life damaged him so much."

"Yes, me too," Earendil agrees. Maglor is very loving to them, but shuns any open acknowledgement of it.

Maglor comes back after a while, and says, looking tired, "I need a drink. I just had to talk about my feelings. … The Noldor are not into that, as a rule."

Earendil hands him a bottle of wine from the tray, and he pours himself a glass.

"How's the food?" Maglor asks them, as he drinks.

"We don't like it, home food is better," Elwing judges.

Maglor nods. "Well, this is to Finarfin's taste, really. I doubt Fingolfin muscled in on the food scene here, after he came back from Mandos. Who knows. We'd have to ask Finno, and I don't want to bother him about his father. Is there any pudding?"

"There're little puff balls, with hard sugar on them," Elwing shows him. Maglor examines them, and does not try one.

"Well, I can eat at home. I think I get extra points if our home people are watching," he jokes.

"I want to go back, I've had enough of looking at the elves. Do you want to come?" Elwing says succintly.

Maglor agrees, so they go get their overcloaks from the servants with Maglor, who says 'yes, he's all played out harp-wise at the moment anyway' to the random elves who see him leaving and bewail it. Maglor tells the others with osanwe that they're leaving, he informs them.

Elrond shows up and leaves with them, as Maglor has the pages bringing them their horses.

'Where is Glorfindel?" Earendil asks Maglor with osanwe, as they ride out towards home.

'Oh, he said he didn't want everyone to see him be emotional, because of his reputation for being tough,' Maglor replies mentally. Then he switches to talking out loud "Glorfindel said he was going to leave later, and anyhow he's deep into a game of bezique with my grandmother; I checked when we left. He is confident of winning – he thinks wrongly, but I didn't enlighten him. She is great at it, and is going to win serious money off of him. I'm going to have to sell a harp to pay his debts!"

Elrond laughs. "You exaggerate, my friend. I don't think Queen Miriel will miss an opportunity to be provocative. She'll tell him she forgives him the notes just to pique him."

Elves have all types of money, he knows – coins of different precious metals, banknotes on paper, and cheques. Maglor has shown him the ones he doesn't use. At the docks elves were always putting money for him to use on his ship anonymously, so he did use it, to buy some food when he needed some.

Maglor has told him that Turgon and Fingolfin set up a real large amount of money for him, as befitting the king of Gondolin, but he's never accessed it. There wasn't a reason to; the random coins on his ship were enough to buy food with.

And now if he wants something, he asks Elrond or Maglor or Glorfindel to help him buy it in new Rivendell, and they three pay for him, insisting that it's only right.

"Well, true," Maglor agrees. "Provoking people is in our blood."

They ride back to new Rivendell. Earendil and Elwing go off to her house and leave everyone else in town [they want to drink more together], and then relax together. They take a bath, and then watch the clouds go by, at the top of the tall castle-tower on her house.

A few days later, Maglor escorts his brother to see Elwing, and also summons Caranthir, and has Elrond take him to Earendil, at their respective houses. Elrond just drops Caranthir off, but Maglor stays with the other one at Elwing's, he finds out later. He apparently doesn't like Celegorm even more than he doesn't like Caranthir and the other one [Curvo].

"I'm sorry I got you into trouble with Maglor before," Earendil tells Caranthir, letting him into his house. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay," Caranthir tells him. "It's kind of nice, to see Maglor, and hear his voice. Even if he's very angry. It's been a long time. He hasn't spoken to me, since … many years ago."

"What was it like, to have him as a brother? Did he play for you all constantly?" Earendil asks him.

Caranthir says no, looking a little melancholy. "We rarely really saw him. He was very busy, being so important a musician. He was always with Maedhros, anyway. I was much younger. They didn't live at home then, and then later in Formenos they were in their own buildings, anyhow."

It's strange to think of how Caranthir literally died while trying to kill people in Doriath; not to be rude, but the guy doesn't exactly look like a genius murder machine. He looks like some scribe that copies books for Elrond and has never held a sword, honestly.

[Though Earendil has actually seen some of Elrond's scribes, they show him neat nautical/sailing mentions in rare books if they see him and he's amenable; they don't look as fleshy, blah, and inelegant as this guy. The scribes actually look pretty buff, like extreme warriors, to be honest.

… Since they are Elrond's people, which means they are Maglor's people, maybe they are really warriors of the Feanoreans who decided to take up book copying because Elrond needed volunteers. It's a mystery.]

Caranthir and him talk for a while; it's just as awkward as he expected. But it's far more preferable than talking to a regular, 'perfect' elf. Eventually he tells him he better go, so as not to take up all his time, and Caranthir asks him if he thinks he should now go to Maglor to 'report' that he'd finished.

Earendil has no idea, but either way he's sure he'll hear Maglor complain about it – he keeps that to himself.

Elwing comes in to join him that night, and tells him happily that, re Celegorm, "He said I was pretty like HER daughter, but that he wouldn't say anything about it because he was back with his old magical creature-god already, now. And he does know about mosses, and we talked to them. Today! Already! It was so fun. He likes nature things too, instead of elves. He said he didn't like elves very much. He said he would like to be, wished to be, some water or something else that's natural instead."

Like part of nature, he knows she saying.

"Was he polite?" Earendil asks her.

"Yes," she agrees. "He said he was sorry that he wanted to talk to HER daughter in secret, because he was so sad then without his god and wanted her to send his one a message. Which she did. Then he let her go and lied to everyone and said she escaped. But he said she could have escaped any time, because of her great power, and that he gave her his big dog in case she needed help on her big adventures, because he was sure he'd die in his and didn't want his dog to die with him."

Wow, he thinks. Only Celegorm would apologize for the Luthien situation and not for the literal murder of Elwing's dad.

"Oh, he said sorry for that too," Elwing assures him. "But I already knew that. I watched them all for a long time, when they came back, when the world was remade. He was very wanting to die over there, across the sea, and wanted to take down my father as the way to go out. He said my father was a good fighter and told him that he should say to me that he regretted keeping the stone, not realizing he got him good, and had killed him back. Isn't that nice."

"Yeah," Earendil says honestly. It's nice to know that Dior realized his error, in those last moments, and was sorry for/to Elwing.

"He asked me for relationship advice," Elwing continues. "Cause I'm magic-y and his guy is magic-y. Maglor looked like he was gonna have a stroke. I told him that everyone thinks I'm weird, but he said that's because elves are hidebound and conservative, and can't understand anything greater than themselves. He said I'm not weird; but that the elves are weird. But cause there's so many more of them, they don't realize that. If there were only a few of them, they'd realize how weird they are, he said."

"How interesting," Earendil comments, as they go to bed in their big hammock together.

"Oh, he said he was sorry his people killed my brothers," she adds. "He said he thought Nelyo would be pleased that he didn't slay them with a sword, and instead had his people do something kinder and more gentle, by giving them to nature to die naturally, because they were mortal, he said. But instead everyone now says he was bad for doing that, which he didn't expect. … I thought Maglor might say something then, but then he didn't."

"Are you going to tell your brothers?" he asks her.

"Oh, they already know," Elwing explains. "They actually hang out with him and go hunting all the time, they just use magic to look different. But if his god is there, then they stay away, afraid that the vala will be able to see through their image, the magical glamour on them. Anyway, they have looked into his soul many times when with him. They understand him. He's just a big dog, but in person form."

So she and Celegorm next work on talking to lichen and to coral, underwater.

Maglor still comes over for his 'lessons', and also shows him his memories with osanwe, if Earendil asks to see the boys when they were little. … He has to take breaks to cry, after seeing Elros.

On the one hand, it feels normal to see his dead son. On the other, it feels excruciating.

In Maglor's memories Elros looks so vital, so bright and vivacious – and he chose to die, even leaving Elrond, much less his actual parents in Aman. Of course Earendil understands all this logically, and why he chose that way; did he himself not desire for it all to end, too? [Before he heard Elwing say she wanted to live to the Valar, and then he changed his mind.]

Maglor never chastises him for wanting to do this, even though he often sobs afterwards and gets a terrible headache. He just makes him drink water then, and take some pain relief elixir of Elrond's, and holds him, and lets him cry into his shoulder, and rubs his back.

Then he tells him to take a nap, and plays some 'sleep now' music, which seems to be its own genre; it must be magic, but really with Maglor, music IS magic, partially, so who knows.

What's extra nice is when Maglor and Elwing are both there, and both hold him at the same time.

It's relaxing to be close to someone. He can't ever do this with Elrond, he's old and revered, now. He's not his little baby anymore. It's not just an imposition, it's an affront, after his mistakes.

Other than Elwing, he never even is near other people, in this sense. His parents hug him of course, but he just feels like a failure when he's around them.

Their city fell, but they both saved his life, and they got all three of them out [well, with Glorfindel's help, but still.] Compare that to his and Elwing's track record with their children. It's a disgrace.

It's a relief to cry when just Maglor is there, in a sense. It's not like he could do it with Elwing, who almost died from grief before, or Elrond, who would probably be appalled at the gall of it [since he's the real victim here.]

With Maglor, he feels free. He is strong enough to help him, old enough to not mind him getting his robe all wet while a comparative 'child' weeps on him, and loving enough to comfort him. More and more he can't help but think about how he kept the stone from him, when Maglor was on the shore in agony. It seems both inhumane and disgusting, to torture someone like that.

Of course Elrond put a stop to that, by ending the oath, but still. It makes him feel so sick and uncomfortable to think he did that to anybody, much less the one person who cared about the kids he and his wife abandoned to death or worse.

He feels like he could just weep forever, and never stop, at times. Like his deep well of sadness is truly endless. But in reality he always falls asleep after a while, and rests deeply for some time after Maglor soothes him into a more calm state.

Elwing has told him that she does the same thing; he understands. Maglor is very good at being comforting, supportive. He acts like they are his children too, not just Elrond.

[Elwing doesn't physically 'cry' sometimes, instead she simply feels bad feelings with no outlet, and straightforwardly asks Maglor to come and 'comfort' her while visually looking normal.

Which he does. Earendil assumes he must be confused at her lack of overt 'sadness', but she explained that she's told Maglor before about what she feels verbally. "I don't have enough energy to be crying with my eyes," she'd said. "I have to use all of mine to keep being a whole person that's alive, and look elf-like all the time."]

He feels lucky he doesn't have powers – if he did, he's sure he'd never get up the strength to be non immaterial, ever. It honestly still feels new, how he sees different people all the time, and even talks to them, and they hear him speak. He had gotten used to being on his ship alone, though he did hear people's prayers, after he realized what he was hearing. He could listen, but not speak … not that anyone would have wanted to listen then anyway.

He's been an outcast for a long time. He's felt like one, too. Unheard, unseen [the silmaril doesn't count]. But now it feels nice to be with other people, to see the elves play and make merry up close. To do things with Elrond and everyone. To see Maglor's famous ancestors.

At times, he almost thinks he feels happy, too.

He finally asks Elrond about the stone oath, and if he really did torture Maglor by it keeping from him on his ship.

Elrond hesitates to answer, so he knows it's true. His son then spins out some pat answers that avoid the truth, so he really knows it's true.

It's not a good feeling, to think you hurt someone, especially in a huge way. He already feels that way about his children – child. He and Elwing still stumble over their words, always saying it in the plural, when there's only one left and the other one is dead.

He goes and sees Maglor after that, but he's playing at his brother's house, so he lays down on a couch on their covered porch and listens, and falls asleep. [Elrond has told him that the elves do that too, when they hear him harp and sing.]

Later he wakes up, and has blankets on him.

Maglor is there too, and notices his alertness, and says, "You should have come in, they don't mind other people listening to me at their house."

Earendil is quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry I tortured you, by having the stone on my ship," he tells him. "I hate thinking I hurt you. I would never say that I was a criminal, a thief, or hurt someone, but really, aren't I? Haven't I?"

Maglor looks shocked. He stops working on his music score, and lays down his pen.

"Well, I think that's coming in light of Sirion's fall, isn't it," he finally says. "It's just a consequence of it."

"I would say that I am no torturer, but it seems like I am," Earendil says, upset.

Even Earendil as a boy had heard of how the 'evil Feanorean sons' had taken a terrible oath that turned them into raving, monstrous animals, only able to feel peace when they were trying to take the silmarils back.

"I don't think that can be laid at your door – my father's door has plenty of room for it," Maglor asserts. "And so does mine. My grandfather too, for starting this mess."

"I get so furious when Finwe tries to talk to me," Earendil admits to him. "How dare he. Look at the mess that is my life. And he got off scot free! He died before anything happened, practically, and now he's back, lounging around eating parfaits. He talks to me like I'm some famous stranger, instead of someone related to him that he fucked over."

Maglor nods, and says, "It is obnoxious. We have all suffered, and then he just shows up unmarred, having gone through nothing but what happened to grandmother, and his death. I can't see him as anything, anymore, familially. I cannot respect him. But even when I was young, we all were kind of cringing at his greed and his later pathetic attempts to fix his mistake, by going too hard the other way, like when he came with us to Formenos. I mean I know my parents made mistakes, but we were never replaced. We all were special, we knew we were wanted."

"Is it true, that only Caranthir isn't gifted, like you all?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor considers it. "Well, the twins aren't, I don't think, but them being so unique as to have each other makes people forget that, in general. Though they are really twins no longer, as they are never together now. And the whole different color hair thing, I've always thought that was weird."

Like how Elrond and Elros will never be together again.

"I suppose technically I don't really know what's going on at the moment, with any of them," Maglor adds. "I don't keep up with the news on my family. While of course I wanted Nelyo back, the others I kind of hoped were going to stay in Mandos. Well, I'll excuse Tylpe, obviously."

"I don't like thinking that I hurt you," Earendil tells him seriously. "I didn't really realize it when it was all going on. I so afraid that I'd find my parents dead and shipwrecked somewhere. And then when Elwing came, I knew it was over. I didn't care anymore. Most of the time in the sky I spent laying down on the deck; I felt so sick."

"All that is in the past," Maglor consoles him. "There is peace now, and how nice is this little town, and Finno has Nelyo once more. I know there are bad things, but so many good things have happened – you are here with us."

He says the last fragment in a weird way, it makes him think of how Elrond talks, about him sailing.

"Why does Elrond hate me sailing in the sky so much?" Earendil questions. When he asks Elrond, he just says it's terrible that the evil Valar made him do it for so long … which was not quite the case. Elrond is surprisingly evasive at some questions, but of course he can't tell, not really.

Maglor looks shocked.

He comes over and takes his hand, as Earendil watches, bemused at this. He can tell that Maglor thinks that situation was very tragic and is trying to be sensitive, from his manner, his behavior.

"We all want you here with us, and love you, " Maglor tells him, somber. "We don't want you far away and in danger. The Valar are truly evil, and what they did to you was wrong. They should have sent giant birds to kidnap the boys back and take them from me to Aman, or something. Whatever it would be."

"That's way too far for a giant bird to fly while carrying something as heavy as chlidren," he points out.

But Maglor doesn't laugh. Indeed, it was him who used to mentally speak up to Earendil-as-star before, and tell him of things in his prayers, and he would say they were [he and the boys] thinking of him, and that he wasn't alone [metaphorically], and everyone was against the Valar in general, and also appalled at his situation.

"Just like I want to see Elrond, and Nelyo, and you, so too is it wrong for people who have love for each other to be separated," Maglor adds. "We were – we are – all joyful, including us Feanoreans, to know you are here, safe, and with Elrond. I know we all want you to be happy, and enjoy yourself."

"Thanks," he says, feeling a little awkward. But touched, too.

"I know how much my people have mourned their evil in regards to you, and Elrond, and Princess Elwing," Maglor continues. "And of course, myself as well. They have often come to Elrond with ideas about things you might like, to try to please you in some little way. Though it is no real recompense, of course."

"It's weird to have anybody care about me," he admits. The elves revering him does not count.

He knew his parents did, but they're supposed to. They're his parents. They can't understand what he's been through anyway. Besides, they're busy with each other. With their perfect fairytale life [well, not perfect, but you get it. A lot of it is perfect and great, like Tuor miraculously being allowed to live like an elf, forever, as an exception.]

Earendil hasn't had anything good happen in his life. It's hard to relate to them, to their happiness. They are both heroes, both happy.

Elwing cares about him, but her own grief has grounded her [as a bird, metaphorically] for a long time. He knows they both have been trying to keep themselves from self-killing for a long time.

At least Elwing isn't different than him, in her sadness, though he would want her happier if possible, of course. It's just nice to have someone similar. Even Elrond, despite his life, seems so calm and pleased that it can feel hard to talk to him; he's nice to him, but of course he's a stranger, due to their mistakes. Nimloth is nice, but she's Elwing's mom that he never knew; he knows her life has been terrible, but she is very happy now with her sons back and her daughter doing better.

Elwing and Maglor too know what it's like to want to kill yourself, to suffer excruciatingly with no reprieve, and just despair. He can relate to that.

Maglor looks outraged at his statement.

"I care about you – Elrond cares about you," Maglor insists to him. "We always have. And Glorfindel does too, and Princess Elwing. But you don't have to think on it now. You will get used to it, being with us all, and feeling close."

"Will you play," he asks him quietly, feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, of course," Maglor agrees, and gets his harp, and plays.

That is a quick way out of any situation with him – he never minds someone randomly asking him to perform, even if it's very out of the blue or to change the subject, or whatever.

So he plays, and then pets his neck slowly afterwards, when Earendil's in a daze from the music. There's something so comfy about dozing and being safe, on a thick, cushy pillow, with Maglor soothingly touching his back, his hair. His sleeve is always very soft, delicate fabric.

When he becomes more alert, he realizes that Elwing is there too, laying on top of him now, half against his side. She looks at Earendil from where she is laying on his shoulder, his side and chest and says, "I got jealous of you. I want him to touch my hair too."

He smiles at her. He understands.

"And you're sure you're okay with this?" Maglor asks him, quizzically.

"I only like higher blood people, like us," Elwing jokes slyly, before Earendil can answer and say it doesn't really count, it's him; Maglor is like some weird co-partner with them, because he's Elrond's parent. Yeah, they just met him after Elrond grew up, but it's still true. "So it's okay. I do not like you like that. Elves are not appealing. You look weird."

Maglor laughs.

"Well, if I were as good looking as both of you, I think I'd say the same thing, the elves would pale in comparison. Until then, I will make do with Glorfindel. Poor me," he tells them, amused. He keeps writing his music score, and they just lay there with him, his hand upon them.

'His energy, it's nice, good feeling – am I right, in thinking I can feel it pour off of him onto me?' he asks Elwing with osanwe, and she agrees, silently.

'Yesssss,' she says to him, without using words, bypassing all that and somehow 'speaking' into his soul, or consciousness. 'Elrond keeps his energy from coming out, so he can use it to heal, but this one does not keep it in, it emanates from him, and we can soak it in. Lay in it.'

They lay there and enjoy it, and his little hand soothing them, running over their robes, their skin, hair, while he works on his song papers with his other hand.

It is always odd to see him do it all the time, in the sense that Earendil's never had that type of desire, that level of drive. Maglor was probably composing music mentally while he was literally almost dead. That's how much he does it. It's like just part of being awake, for him. Earendil doesn't think of anything that much.

The peace though is jostled a tiny bit when the first elf since the remaking happened, dies [in an accident], and no one is able to save them. For the first time, he and Elwing get to comfort Elrond, instead of the other way around.

Chapter Text

Elrond tries to heal the elf, but it's too late. [The one in question is over in a nearby city, not in new Rivendell, but the elves all bring the injured one to new Rivendell immediately, to get Elrond's attention.] For the first time, he and Elwing see him get upset in real time, and try to be there for him.

They both hesitantly try to be comforting, and Maglor of course helps them [thank goodness], having actually known and raised him.

Even though Earendil saw Elrond as a little toddler, it's hard to imagine the elf-ish being he is now as the same person. Before it was easy, give the children a toy. He and Elwing did that all the time. They were great at it, and the nurses said they were doing great, too.

Now it's not easy. Elrond is his own person, with a life they know little about, unless Maglor or him tells them. They've never seen Elrond without his composure before. Elwing makes Maglor answer a million questions first with osanwe before they go in to see Elrond ... they all remember how poorly the two of them did the first time they met him [when he was an adult, and had crossed the sea.]

He had sat there and simply looked at them. It had felt like being examined by a judge, though at the time Earendil had judged it to be a success, thinking of how Elrond had said he was pleased with him before about the oath breaking. And how he had continued to 'pray' to him, to speak with him on his sky ship, once in a while.

Now when they go in, he is laying on Maglor's daybed in pyjamas while Maglor dabs at his face with a cool, damp cloth.

They both tell him they're sorry out loud, and he says 'yeah' back in osanwe, and then nothing more.

Elwing asks Maglor mentally, letting Earendil hear too, says she thinks they should leave, and Maglor nods, and they do. They walk back to his house, and on the way she tells him silently, 'I think he is too tired to try to talk to us. He has to be careful with us, he thinks we are very ill because of our lives, and right now he doesn't have the energy to watch his mouth with us.'

He understands.

Elrond views them as weird patients that are related to him; they are not literal parents, because your parents give you lessons when you are little, and raise you, and are there for you. Basically, being 'there' is the baseline definition.

Earendil goes and asks Maglor how he is once in a while, from outside, with osanwe. He doesn't go into where Elrond is, but eventually Maglor tells him to come in again.

He walks in slowly, and finds Elrond sitting up, this time, looking tired. He has on a real robe this time instead of sleepwear.

"Hey," he tells Earendil. "I've improved. Lindir is no longer acting like I'm a baby."

"I heard that, I was not," Maglor yells from the room next door, and they both smile.

"It was just a shock, that's all," Elrond explains, gesturing for Earendil to sit down, so he does. "It made me think of before, at home. In Rivendell, I mean. Even when there were deaths, we all tried to be strong, I think, given the situation at the time. All this made me think of that time. I think we all tried to not cry then, unless Lindir was playing for us of course, because the enemy was everywhere, and powerful."

"I spent that whole era on my ship crying, most of the time," Earendil tells him frankly, and Elrond looks shocked. "It's not like there was anything to be happy about."

"I'm sorry," Elrond tells him, looking sad for him.

"I think only I'm supposed to say that," Earendil jokes bitterly. What a farce, the idea of his abandoned son being supportive to him, instead of the other way around.

'More like me', Maglor tells him with osanwe. He touches him back with it gently, in recognition, appreciating it. Maglor always says things that make him feel better.

"We must forget the past," Elrond insists to him, mildly. "How are you and mother doing?"

Earendil shrugs. Mostly they've been worrying about Elrond, but Maglor kept them updated and they knew Gil-Galad was there with Elrond too all the time, and that he has a lot of experience with Elrond's grief -- over Elros, and then over Maglor 'dying' back when he was thought dead at the shore.

Also, Finno and Nelyo came to comfort Elrond too, and Galadriel, which is good, because he actually knows all of them in depth, as opposed to his parents. "Elwing has been learning more languages," he answers. "And I have been reading a history book for lessons."

It's quite a simple book that summarizes what happened in the early ages of elvendom, but Maglor thought it'd be good for him to look at after trying to see how much he already knew ... unsurprisingly, it turns out Earendil knows little about elven history.

He does actually know a lot about Tuor's people, because when he was a little boy, Tuor would tell him exciting stories about them. Idril didn't do the same about her people, probably thinking the kinslaying, Feanor's situation, and the ban of the Noldor were too evil and serious topics to explain to a child.

"Which book?" Elrond asks him, interested because it's a book, of course.

Earendil explains which one, and he nods. "Yes, that's a good primer. It's very neutral, and was written much later. Early histories are mostly by the non-Feanoreans, and are extremely one-sided."

"Like Peng's," he suggests, and Elrond nods, looking pleased.

"Yes, exactly," Elrond agrees. Earendil remembers that detail from Maglor causally saying something about it before.

"I've been looking at books on architecture," he offers. "I wondered if it would be similar to shipbuilding. It only is a little bit. But it's interesting."

In this vein, Elwing still does astronomy things with Elrond, and art stuff too. She seems to like exploring it, so eventually he wondered if he should look at what Maglor had suggested for him: architecture and lawyering. Of course he can't look at books for the latter, he'll get too angry about elven societies and rules and the Valar, and Finwe. So that leaves architecture.

"Gil-Galad has been saying he wants to have a ship day soon," Elrond tells him. "But this recent tragedy distracted us. It is hard for me to see death. Despite how other people talk, my life has been pretty comfortable. Of course I lost people in Rivendell, but we expected it, we pushed on together."

"I try not to think about my life, the early part," he offers. "I know it's the same for Elwing. It's all been too much of a shock. I still can't believe any of it happened -- how could Turgon let that happen? He acted like he loved me, when I was little boy. And then he let those people back in, and ... everything happened."

"Turgon and his sister have reaped what they sowed," Elrond says, sounding somber. "All now look upon them with disbelief for what their deeds lead to. I am thankful the Valar did not allow those evil creatures to return to life. It is so rare I find myself praising anything the Valar have done," he says dryly.

Earendil kind of smiles. "Yes," he agrees. "I don't like them. I don't like how they made us choose, and didn't help everyone until I went over here. I hate them for making me fear for my life, just to beg for help for everyone. I would never do that to them, why did they get to do it to me?"

"Power corrupts," Elrond agrees, nodding. "I am so happy they have been punished, as it were, and reduced, negated, in their power over us. Of course as a little boy, Maglor tried to lie to us and say you were very excited to sail, and asked to because you wanted to keep us all safe from space monsters, and were having adventures in the sky, and fighting the space monsters, and winning all the time. And people were writing songs about you all the time in Aman, but not as good as Maglor could write a song about you, he was sure, even though obviously he hadn't heard these new Aman songs -- he did sometimes, when we wanted him to."

Earendil huffs a laugh. Maglor's crazy fake stories about them to make the children happy often have funny parts in them, or funny editorializing if music is involved.

"Have you ever said anything true about me?" he calls out to Maglor in the other room. He reaches out to him with osanwe, to get his attention.

"Well I didn't except to get an editor about it this late in life," Maglor calls back as an answer.

Elrond leans forward a little towards him, and says mentally, 'He is giving away some of his extra harps to the Feanorean elves that would appreciate them. It's taking forever for him to decide which to give up. That's what he's doing over there.'

Then he switches to speaking verbally. "Let me call for some tea. I just got a letter from Cirdan recently, asking if I thought you might like to visit him at his second home by the two trees."

"Oh," Earendil considers. "I guess so. I don't know if I want to be so close to the trees, though, I'm tired of brightness."

On his ship, he'd often avoided staying on deck when he had the stone out, tiring of it's powerful light. It was soothing to go inside and rest in the dark.

"Hmm, I understand," Elrond tells him. "What if you wore eye goggles that were tinted dark? Then you could look at the trees and they wouldn't seem bright to you."

"Okay. I mean I could try it," he agrees.

A page comes in a bit later with a tray, and Elrond drinks some fancy tea while he has cold milk and tries the little tea sandwiches. Well, they're pretty big sandwiches, actually, but whatever.

"Mother told me she is now trying to speak to sharks with Celegorm," Elrond tells him as he eats. "I asked her what they talk about, and she said they gossip about each other and they discuss the other ocean creatures. How interesting, that she can speak to so many animals and parts of nature."

"Yes," he agrees, trying some curried chicken salad, with cashews, grapes and celery in it. It's funny how he used to eat such plain, horrible food, and now he can eat the best food in Aman all the time. It's great. "I have no such interest, myself. I only like to talk to you all, here. That's enough. I can't imagine that the moss or mercury has worthwhile things to say."

Elrond sighs. "I have warned her about the danger of cinnabar and mercury. I hope she listens."

"She said she makes a protective translucent selenium bubble for them to stay in when near it," he reassures him.

Elrond waves a hand, seeming like he's saying 'he has no idea about this and hopes it's fine'. "Are you going to go to any of the festival events?" he asks Earendil, and picks out a calisson to eat from the array in a crystal bowl on the sliver platter.

They both like those, he's noticed. Sometimes if he asks for a tray of food in the afternoon, the confection makers give him a giant one … he's a fan. If he's out by the candy creating building area, [there's a whole area where they grow sugar cane just for that and for jam making, sometimes elves call out to him from the windows if they have invented a new flavor, and he tries it and they ask him if it's better than the original kind. It's never better, as classic is best, but it's fun to try them.]

"I don't know, I don't usually. When I was a child, my parents really focused on Tuor's people's holidays, so those seemed really special to me, over those of the elves. Even though we did those too. But I recall little of it all," Earendil confesses. "And Elwing knows no holidays, as we did not celebrate things with the elves in Sirion. Mother and father did, but she didn't make us do things, she let us rest."

The elves hadn't liked that. They wanted their little unique, different-looking symbolic rulers paraded out for their visual pleasure on holidays. But Idril wouldn't allow it, and Elwing's people had lost control of her to Idril … and they were surprised to find they didn't get it back after Idril left Sirion with Tuor.

"It's kind of fun," Elrond explains. "This one is just a simple harvest celebration, where everyone is grateful to Yavanna, and all our farmers. I go and say 'thank you' to the plants myself, in case that helps them grow well, and there are lots of special types of food just for that day. All work ceases, so that all can go enjoy the day; everything is set up the day before to ensure this. I can show you it, if you want."

"Okay," he agrees.

"Did Lindir tell you of his new project?" Elrond asks him. He shakes his head. "Bilbo wanted him to sing songs about the early times, or perform the Noldolante, and he won't, but gave him a compromise, that he would write some songs about how it felt, in ancient times, when everything happened. Bilbo has heard some of them already, and says the two trees one is his favorite."

"I kind of miss the sun and moon," Earendil admits. "I guess these glowing trees are okay. It is interesting to see them, and know something like them was there in beginning."

"Yes, I feel the same way," Elrond agrees. "The ringbearers have said the same, as well. This land is not native to me, so it feels odd to be here, even as so much time passes."

After a long while Maglor comes in and declares, "I can't give any of these away. They're too special. I'll have to look at what's in Formenos and at mother's house."

Elrond laughs, and he glares at him. "I see there is dissent present," Maglor says primly, and leaves, making Earendil smile after him.

Later, he asks Maglor about this upcoming holiday at his lessons, when he's over at his house. Maglor explains the basics, but also mentions things that Elrond didn't.

"It's a big gift holiday, everyone prepares in advance. We all always have your presents put in your house by the servants. That's the fashion, you know, for this day. People all leave their doors open so that others can go in and leave their offerings there anonymously," he tells him.

Oh, he thinks.

Well, that explains a lot of random items that have appeared in his house at times over the years. Typically the servants deposit stuff for him in there without bothering him, so he didn't really think anything of it. And everything made in new Rivendell is incredible in terms of quality, so that didn't make him think anything in particular.

"But I haven't given anyone the presents I got them," Earendil tells him. "I guess it would be a slap in the face to try to give Elrond a present. He has you, and Feanor, and everybody. And it's too late now. Not just cause he's an adult; cause I didn't even think of it when he crossed the sea."

Maglor looks up at him from the harp he was looking at intently. [Probably evaluating if should give this one up, he thinks. Though he'd be sad to see the 'his house' one go. Why should he care, though, really. Of course.]

He looks appalled. "Of course Elrond would like anything you gave him. You know how he prizes having gotten to know you. He is always pleased to see you, or have some favor from you."

"I don't think so," Earendil counters. "But I'll do it. And when it goes the wrong way, I'll tell you, 'I told you so'."

Maglor smiles at him, looking like a mischievous child. "Let it be so, then."

Goodly and badly, Maglor turns out to be right, of course. Elrond loves his gifts. Earendil has kept them on his boat all this time; no elves dare to even touch his famous ship, so it's all safe.

Earendil explains to Elrond about why he didn't give him any of these little trinkets, before, after they both go out to his ship together on horseback. Onboard, he shows him the box of stuff he bought for him, once in a while. "Of course, now that you have Maglor and Feanor, this all wasn't worth showing anybody."

Elrond immediately looks over everything, and looks pleased. "Why should that have to do with anything? Who cares about anybody else. I can't believe you kept all these back."

"I did that too," Elwing suddenly says, materializing out of the air in front of them.

"Really?" Elrond asks, looking excited.

She nods. "Can I see them?" he continues. Elwing takes them both away by magic, and he knows she is taking him to see in her tower wherever she keeps any stuff/gift she has gotten Elrond and never given him. They both feel like it's impossible to give him anything, they've discussed it.

His boyfriend is a king, his 'real' father is a son of Feanor with a dedicated [to him] literal army of people, Elrond has rich and powerful friends. It just seems so silly to even try.

He goes back home because she lets him know that she'll just take Elrond back with her magically when Elrond has had enough of her [in her judgment of trying to interpret him], or when she gets tired or nervous.

So he takes his horse and goes back to new Rivendell, carrying the box of gifts with him; and he takes Elrond's horse too, not being sure what to do with it.

He also take the box of things he bought for Maglor too, and when he gets home, goes and seeks out Maglor. He hears that he is currently on a picnic with Glorfindel, so he goes back to his house to see him some other time. It's funny how his big house here feels lonely at times, when he's all alone. He's gotten used to seeing everyone constantly.

That night, a page comes to tell him that Maglor wants to see him, can he come over? So he says yes.

And Maglor appears, coming to sit in his usual spot in Earendil's parlor. How nice it is to see him, in his usual black, plain outfit. His weird thick shoes and short hair. How lucky that it turns out he's a great person, despite everything.

"You came back by yourself?" he asks him, looking concerned, because where's Elrond.

"Elwing came and they went off together to do things," Earendil explains, and Maglor nods, looking pleased. It's nice how Maglor really actively wants Elrond to be close with his real [or 'real'] parents, despite technically being his ''real for all intents and purposes'' dad. "So you were right, after all. He did like it. I got you these, back then, too. Now you will have to agree with me, what worthless trinkets all the stuff I got was."

He gives him the little container, but Maglor doesn't say that. He just looks at it all, examining it as if it's something expensive wrought by a jewelsmith. [These little nothings cost almost nothing.]

"You got me a present," Maglor says, almost to himself.

"Well, you are my only friend," he defends.

"Other than you, my only friend is Finno," Maglor says quietly.

"That's not true, everyone praises you, wanting you to play," Earendil says, surprised. "And what about Elwing? She's your friend. And Glorfindel, and Gil-Galad. And your people."

Indeed, the Feanoreans revere their leaders to the degree that they're like total psychos, compared to other Elven cultural or ethnic groups/areas. Well, other than what Melian probably inspired, he guesses.

"I'm not as honest with them as I am with you," Maglor says simply. "Except for Elwing. She with her power gets the most honest reading of all things, since she can simply see into me, and all the elves."

"You can throw those away," Earendil says, pointing to the box of gifts for him. "I know what utter trash they are. I've seen what you actually have – and what Finno gives you as presents, and your father, and brother."

Maglor and Nelyo probably have better jewels than Finwe at this point, especially with Feanor on the case, now caring more about them than about his father.

"I'd say 'no take backs', I want my presents, but I feel like historically that might not be a good phrase for me to invoke," Maglor says, mild and quiet. "I can't believe somebody got me a present."

"Lots of people give you stuff all the time," Earendil informs him, not understanding.

Maglor looks at him, and away, and he realizes that he has rarely seen him look vulnerable. It's a weird look on him. He's seen him look physically ill and decrepit, but not like this. So he shuffles over to him, and hugs him [gently, other beings must be touched gently, his mother had taught him as a boy; all except for Elwing, who is stronger than he is, which is such a relief and a comfort.]

For the first time, he comforts Maglor, instead of the other way around.

"I am glad Elrond found you, and you him," he says to him. Maglor is so much physically smaller than him that the top of his head is only against his chest. He is so thin that it prompts him hold him even more delicately than he would usually touch an elf [if he had to, other than say hugging his mother.] It feels very different to hug like this, to comfort someone else, than to hug to be comforted yourself. "And that you came over here. I think me and Elwing would be all lonely without you. You're like our extra partner, because of how you're Elrond's real father. Also, I think the elves would have all been sad if both you and Daeron were lost to them, they sure like music. I mean it's amazing, yeah, but they seem like they could totally subsist only on it, instead of ever having a sandwich. You know?"

'Yes,' Maglor tells him mentally.

"Can I touch your hair? I never really have touched an elf's," he lays out to him, and Maglor says he can. "Oh – it feels weird," he exclaims immediately. "It doesn't feel like mine or Elwing's. Try it."

Right after saying that he realizes that Maglor doesn't need to 'try it' … he's touched Earnedil's hair many times while trying to calm him down re weeping and/or resting after listening to his music.

But Maglor sits back and does touch his own hair with one hand, and Earnedil's with the other at the same time.

"Yes, yours is different than Elrond's – and Princess Elwing's," he muses. "How interesting. Don't tell my father or Finrod, they'll both be too interested and want you to cut some off for them."

"I'm not as good a hugger as you," Earendil finds himself telling him. "I know. You're just a very huggable person."

Maglor looks at him, surprised, pleased, amused. "I wouldn't say that to anyone else," he instructs. "That's not exactly what I'm labeled as, to all and sundry."

"But you are, you're like a sweet pillow, that's heavenly soft to relax with," Earendil says honestly. "It's strange how the elves all act like you might criticize their music. I can't see you doing that."

Maglor frowns and looks away. "I can't see me doing what I did. And yet."

"Elrond says we must forget the past," he implores him. Just then a bird startles them both, flying in and dropping a message on the couch, of paper, and soaring away. Earendil opens it and it's from Elwing, that was her falcon.

In it, in her very messy, weak handwriting, she says in Sindarin that she and Elrond are back in new Rivendell at Nelyo's current party. Then underneath that she writes in terrible, almost unreadable Quenya [poorly, but Earendil's not great at writing either] that this note is not really to update them as much as it is to practice her Quenya.

"What a model student she is," Maglor exclaims. "I knew Elrond came by it naturally."

Like Elros and his desire for nature, no lessons and only fun adventures, he thinks. How sad.

"We must applaud her effort," Maglor says decisively. "That will help me in putting this moment from my mind. You have moved me too much emotionally; I think we extreme Noldors malfunction when presented with so much goodness. Let us go to the party."

"Okay," he agrees, and first though Maglor has to go back to his rooms and put his present box in his bedroom, he explains. So Earendil walks over with him, and then walks back with him out to Nelyo's house.

There is indeed a party.

Galadriel is there, dancing with Elwing, who looks happy. They say hi to each other with osanwe, and he can feel her joy at Elrond having fun with her, and at having fun with Galadriel wash over him.

Maglor immediately wants to check on his brother, who is fine and also laughing at the contest that the ringbearers are having with Gandalf re making smoke clouds out outside. Of course they are downwind, as he has a feeling that Maglor and Finno won't allow anything impure near Nelyo, for his comfort.

What's nice at these parties is that they aren't like 'real' ones, with Finwe, and all them. Those ancient, famous people. Instead, no one looks at them here. Elwing can dance in her own, unique way, and no elves say anything, or say she's like Luthien, or not, et cetera. It's almost like they can be free of all that stuff. No one mentions the past, or Earendil's stolen silmaril, glowing in the sky, as Maglor lived through death and yet did not die, suffering for so long.

It's almost like those things didn't happen, at times like this. The elves all pretend he and Elwing are as regular as all of them. It's nice of them. It can be fun, to pretend to be normal.

Of course it's always noticeable, in a lot of ways, that they are different, higher. They glow with more radiance than the elves have, almost in a different way [elves mainly glow with their eyes; they glow all over instead.] And it's obvious that they're different when he sees the elves quaff wine constantly, copiously. In contrast, elves eat little and very delicately; whereas he eats like he enjoys food. And Elwing obviously eats very differently.

But it is easier to bear, being so different forever, when they get to be around other 'different' peoplt -- Nelyo [who has everything special/different for his recovery, as Elrond calls it], and Maglor [who was so ill before, and also is very eccentric], and Glorfindel [who is extremely eccentric, and also eats very heartily, not like a regular small elf -- Feanor is like this too.]

At the party he finds himself playing croquet with Gil-Galad and Elrond; he's terrible at it. There's a weird servant situation during these parties: they are inside Nelyo's house, and so that area is devoid of servants [Finno does things himself inside instead, to make it more peaceful and still for Neylo's health], but also the Noldor always have lots of servants, especially at parties, and especially for royals.

So there are a lot of servants outside, with extra stuff outside, like food and drink.

Earendil doesn't really like being near them. They're fine, it just feels weird that he's supposed to apparently ignore them and act naturally. He can barely do that on a good day alone, and now he has an audience?

But no one else has this problem, not even Elrond. Of course he lived in Lindon, he remembers, with Gil-Galad-as-king. It's nice to see them talk to each other; they clearly like each other but are very 'proper' in public. It makes him think of how Maglor is very like that in some ways, always telling Glorfindel to stop kissing his cheek or forehead because there're other people around.

Later lots of the elves dance to music that the Feanoreans play for them; they play outside, not going into Nelyo's house. This must be the only time that Maglor actually hears music he didn't write or play, he thinks. [Since he doesn't go off and listen to any music written by others anywhere in new Rivendell, ever.]

He and Elwing drink juice at these events, there are always interesting beverage selections in new Rivendell. The elves drink wine, of course, mainly, but other things are offered. Even Elrond drinks wine.

At some point, Finno starts playing tag with some of the elves, and after a while of them racing around randomly, he 'tags' Earendil, as if that's normal. He has to think about it for a second, after he taps his shoulder lightly and runs off. Earendil has never really played children's games. Few children were born in Gondolin, and anyway his parents kept him away from other people.

And in Sirion, he and Elwing only played with each other sometimes, when either of them weren't submerged in fits of depressive sadness.

So he's played simple games with his parents, but not with other people, or other [mundane elven] kids. He isn't really sure who he should 'tag' now, honestly. It was nice of Finno to treat him like a 'normal elf' though, instead of who [and what] he actually is. Finally he decides to go and find Maglor and tap him on the bicep, and explain to him that this is all Finno's fault.

"He's about to regret that," Maglor tells him with a smile, a gleam in his eye. ... Something tells him that Finno won't expect whatever he's up to.

And later he does indeed hear Finno laughing. In the interim, he watches some elves play carrefour outside -- they mark out four squares that touch on the grass with some chalk or something, and then four elves bounce a ball between them, but they all constantly keep saying things, which clearly changes the rules, and then they must all do special things, like clap. Other elves wait in 'line' for when one person makes a mistake, then they get to take over their 'square' and play.

It's funny to watch, how they all race to do all the randomly announced things. It makes them seem like children, instead of dangerous, scary elf creatures. Over time, all of them get very drunk, and so obviously it's even funnier to watch.

He goes inside the house eventually to see Elwing talking to those two royal elf ladies she'd mentioned a while ago, with Maglor there too. So he does not disturb them. Elwing has never really seemed to hang out with elves, so maybe she'll have more of a good time if she meets some and sees if she wants any as friends.

Of course in one way he wants to spend time with her very often [they only have each other, literally before], but on the other hand, they have more people, really, now. They have Elrond, even it's scary to talk to him, and they have Maglor, who doesn't seem to mind when they make mistakes or say the wrong thing.

They have Glorfindel [who corrects them if he thinks they say something he doesn't like about Elrond, but they don't mind it], and Finno, too. Elwing has her real family now too, her brothers and mom. And they both have his parents, obviously.

He goes and sits out back behind the house and looks up at the stars, and then lays down on the soft grass.

"Hello," Nelyo says in his so quiet voice, and he looks over and realizes he's doing the same thing. "Are you escaping the party too? Having a rest."

"Yes," he agrees.

"So am I," Nelyo tells him. "Do you want to converse, or be in silence?"

"Talk, if you want to," he tells him. It's nice of him to ask. The elves here always ask first, not like the famous elves in Tirion.

It's beautiful outside, of course. Everything looks nice at night, and the elves put up lamps all over inside and outside. The waterfalls make their waterfall-y rush-boom noise like always, and it is a comfort to hear, now. It is the noise of home and safety.

The sky has all the lovely -- and real -- stars, [unlike that evil nonsense with stone on his ship], and the night breezes are soft and lovely to feel in your hair, on your skin. The trees rustle and he likes to hear it.

It's not music, but it's something like that. He'll have to ask Maglor, since he's an expert on all things audible.

Nelyo often openly dresses like a prince who is an original [not knockoff] grandson of Finwe which is interesting to see, since Maglor doesn't. "I hope Princess Elwing liked her falcon," Nelyo tells him. "I went with Finno when he picked it out. It's very rare, or something -- the type and the color. He knows more about it. He was worried she would be offended at a bird being a gift, because they are living beings, and she can be one, as they say, but she said she liked it."

"Yes, she said she liked it," Earendil confirms. "She talks to it all the time. If it wants to, it goes on adventures with her. She told me that Celegorm said it was cool, and introduced it to his new dog."

"Kano has spoken of that ... " Nelyo says softly. "That she and him go off to talk to nature itself, with him tagging along. What do you think of this?"

Earendil shrugs, still laying down, looking at the stars.

"Maglor says they get along very well," he reports. "Despite him watching him. He said his brother 'hadn't messed up yet'. So. I guess that's good. But Elwing doesn't care what elves think, so I don't think he could really do anything -- and she has real power, unlike the elves, so if he did mess up, she could really hurt him back right away."

"Good," Nelyo says simply.

"How are you?" Earendil asks, and Nelyo seems to think about it.

"I think I am well," he tells him. "It can be hard to tell. Elrond usually is better at finding names for how I feel. I do not have much pain, anymore. But I think I have to get used to that. It is a strange state to be in."

How sad, he thinks. He can't even imagine -- at least Maglor rescued the children from such a horrifying fate. And at least Finno rescued Nelyo.

He often ends up talking to Nelyo at these parties, like he does Miriel at Finwe's parties, and Caranthir at the dwarven-Tylpe parties. They are the 'different' people on the sidelines, which is where he ends up, at some point.

"I think I'm going to get something to eat, do you want anything?" he offers, and Nelyo thinks on it.

"I guess so. At times I am not sure if I feel hunger, I have to practice feeling and understanding what I feel, more. Are you going to?" Nelyo asks him, and he sits up, looking down at him.

He is incredibly beautiful, extra really, in this twilight. Like a work of art. "Yeah, I'm gonna look around and see if anything looks good," Earendil says frankly. "You want me to grab you a plate?"

"Sure," he says. "Get some cold creams. I like those."

"Me too. I will," Earendil agrees, and walks back into the house.

He goes into where Nelyo's little study room in, that has the food he's seen him eat before, at every previous part, and takes some for him, a bit of everything to cover it, his tastes, and then gets a plate for himself. Also, utensils, and a drink for Nelyo, who didn't seem ot have one, outside. He's seen him always have wine like regular elves, so he pours some out for him from a bottle in his study into a cut glass wine cup, and utensils, and napkins, and the little hand seasonings the elves use [small wells of different ones from a little dish for this they put their food to taste, when eating.]

And at the cold cream closet, he takes a bunch of different ones, and spoons, and then tries to carry it all outside ... he ends up setting the cold creams in their little containers on top of the food, to make it all fit. He puts his own glass [he took it out, and back in] on the top tray for Nelyo, with his wine. They he carries both trays outside.

Nelyo looks over when he approaches, appearing to have not moved in the interim. "That looks good," he comments, seeing his own tray as Earendil sets it beside him. "You did not have to get me such a feast."

"This way you'll like something, if there's one of everything," he explains, and Nelyo nods. Earendil takes the cold cream containers off the top of his food for him [he'd put a napkin on top so they didn't get sauce on them from the food], and sets them to the side, on the grass, with the now extra dirty napkin.

He sits up to try some food, and only eats with his non-bad side, the side that didn't have the arm ruined and the hand cut off. Though of course that 'good' side was the side with the hand that burned from the silmaril. So he's quite slow moving.

They both eat peaceably.

When they get to the cold creams, they both review them with each other. The chefs in new Rivendell make new flavors of everything constantly, along with old favorites.

At some point Elwing comes out and tells Nelyo seriously, "I'm sorry. I ate your whole sweet closet. I was hungry."

"That's alright, it's there to be eaten," he says easily. They talk for a little, and she asks him for funny stories about Celegorm so she can embarass him in front of 'his big glob' Orome. He happy supplies some.

Elwing goes off to play with her hawk, and eventually the two of them are done with their trays, and Earendil asks him if he can carry them both in, and he agrees. Nelyo only seems to say anything if it's Finno not letting him bear an item.

Inside, Maglor meets them and says, "Where did the cold closet go? It's gone."

They all go in and look ... the cabinet is gone. Literally.

Oh. That's what she meant. She consumed it wholesale with magic -- the entire thing, not just the dessert creams. The frame, the construction part. "I think she ate it," Earendil tells them. "All."

They both are startled, astonished.

" … I see," Maglor says, looking at the now empty space in disbelief.

"I will ask the builders to make you a new one, and say this is our fault," Earendil assures Nelyo, who smiles.

"It doesn't matter. Finno will love this example of magic," Nelyo says. "It is no trouble to get another. I will go tell him, how excited he will be, to see this feat."

Nelyo goes off to find his favorite love.

"How incredible a feat. I always marvel at magic. I don't know if I could eat wood or metal," Maglor muses to himself. "Well, maybe if they were soup-fied. I suppose I could try it then. Dwarves do use those tiny wooden drinking boxes for certain types of liquor."

That is true, Earendil's seen how they have little wood beverage cups; he has not tried drinking out of one himself. Maglor told him that it's hard liquor in there. Thankfully they have many varieties of beer and mead, and also juices, so he has juice or light beer when he's there.

Later, Earendil goes home and finds Elwing in his house already, just as mist in the air, like fog. None outside the house, just inside. "Are they angry?" she asks him, sounding fearful. "I didn't mean to."

"No, they thought it was neat," he reassures her. "And Nelyo said Finno would love seeing that it was magically gone."

She seems more relaxed, he can feel it; the mist doesn't visually change.

"Oh good," Elwing tells him. "I didn't realize I was doing it, and then it was too late. I don't want the elves to say I'm too dangerous, and bad."

He puts his hand out into the mist and it gathers around him, like a smaller, darker cloud. "No, they didn't say that. I don't think they cared. Besides, they like magic. It's exciting for them. None of them do anything interesting like that, so I think they like it."

"I don't want them to realize it was a mistake, and be scared of me," she says. "Like the elves should have been scared of HER. Maybe she tricked them, I don't know. I wouldn't trick people."

"I know," he says, and she turns from the cloud into a very big aggressive pillow and snuggles him. He goes and lays down on the couch and grasps at it in his hands. "I know. I think they know too. Maglor would never let you around Elrond if he thought you were going to bamboozle him somehow. Well, he'd try, at least, you could probably take him."

"He'd be more of a challenge than a regular elf," Elwing judges. "But I don't want to fight anyone. I want to be safe. I like how those elves love us now; nobody's even liked us, other than mother and mother and father."

Elwing calls Tuor father and Idril mother, in addition to Nimloth.

"And the elf ladies were nice," Elwing informs him, about those two royals that Maglor sometimes talks to with her as well, to make the intro period smoother. "That tall one is there too sometimes."

Galadriel. She's almost unnervingly tall, honestly. She has a very powerful personality, in a way, whereas Nelyo is the opposite, despite his height. Not that he doesn't seem majestic in his own way, but it's not the same.

They talk for a while more, and then she touches her soul to his in the electrifying way, and then they go to sleep. [It's like being intimate, it's all ecstasy, inside somehow and also physically.]

The next morning, someone is knocking at the door, he realizes, as he wakes up. He sits up, groggily, and Elwing appears beside him on the bed; they fell asleep on it. 'It's HER,' she tells him with osanwe, freaking out. 'This is just an image of me. I went far away to hide, but left part of me here.'

'What should we do?' he asks, worried.

'I think you should go and say – ' she begins, and then they hear noise outside. They both peek out of the windows from the edges of the curtains, not moving them, and see that it's Elrond. And he's cussing Melian out.

… He's saying quite a few choice phrases that Earendil honestly doesn't have the chutzpah to say to her face himself. Like what is she doing here, what is she doing breaking the rules of the elves, ie that you can't enter new Rivendell unless Gil-Galad approves it.

And some other stuff, like who the fuck does she think she is to bother the great-grandchild she fucked over, and the great-great-grandchild. Cause they both consider it a tragedy that they were unlucky enough to be related to her disgusting ass.

This must be what it was like to hear Feanor tell Morgoth to fuck off, he thinks.

Earendil kind of freezes in place at first, but then realizes that that maia might and/or could hurt Elrond. And that is unacceptable. So he grabs a sword and runs to the front door.

Elrond and Melian look over at him as he walks through the door and steps outside. They look surprised to see him, and are both silent for a long moment. "I'm just here to protect from Elrond from this … 'thing'," he explains, waving a hand at Melian in general.

"Thanks," Elrond says, and looks pleased. He walks over towards Earendil, and goes past him, headed inside the house.

He didn't expect that. He looks back at Melian, who is still there, unspeaking. "Well, you heard him," Earendil tells her, and goes back inside himself.

But when he gets in a ways, he hears Elwing and Elrond talking, and bonding over their intense resentment of Melian, and Elwing, he can tell, is so excited that Elrond 'defended' her in this way [in general and specifically, literally], that he doesn't want to disturb them.

So he goes into the kitchen instead and eats some breakfast [omelets with vegetables and meat] from the root cellar, after he brushes his teeth in the back bedroom. [His house is very big, there are a lot of bedrooms. No one is ever in them, but they are there.]

The elves often leave food for him in the fancy root cellar, [coming up to the back of the house to do it, so they don't really come inside; there's another entrance to the underground cavern that it is], in case he doesn't want to go out to eat in town with everyone, or if he doesn't want to call a page. This can be helpful for when he's super depressed, or feeling sunk low in grief, or if he and Elwing were running hot and making love a lot, and then were tired afterwards but they wanted to eat something with literally zero effort needed, required.

Maglor shows up after a while, looked afraid. Earendil waves a hand at him, to dispell his worry. "It's okay. Elrond yelled at Melian, and then she left. He's upstairs with Elwing."

Maglor hesitates at that last part. He often does, very clearly loath to interrupt or intrude on Elrond's time with his blood people. "Are you all alright?" he asks him, seriously.

For obvious reasons, Maglor thinks of the valar and maiar as extremly evil, in general.

"Yeah," he assures him. " … Do you want an omelet?"

"Hm," Maglor considers, and sits down next to him at the table he's been sitting at. "What's in it? How soft is it – did you eat enough yet?"

Now that they're really close, Maglor often acts like Earendil is some newly found relation of Elrond's that he scolds if he doesn't take care of himself the way Maglor thinks he should.

[Only Earendil and Elwing count in this 'new' vein, because Maglor has confessed to Earendil before that he feels sad, a little, when he sees Elwing's brothers who he plays music for, once in a while. Because they look so similar to how Elros and Elrond did when younger.

Earendil feels the same way.]

He gives Maglor his plate so he can try the eggs. "It's pretty good, I think it's soft."

Maglor tries it, and Earendil smiles to think how none of the elves would believe that he, such a famous and old prince, a grandson of Finwe, would eat like this instead of being served by pages with his own plate, food, and fork.

"It's not as good as soup," Maglor decrees, giving him the plate and fork back, after he takes a little bite.

"If you can talk to me, then I can talk to you," Earendil points out gently. Maglor wrinkles his nose, knowing what he means, he's sure. "You are very maybe in need of some more soup."

Maglor is still very, very thin. It's extra obvious when he's near Finno, because they look similar in general [normal height, hair, coloring, both second generation princes re Finwe, except for that Finno looks like he could break Maglor in two with his pinky.]

Elrond and Elwing start to come down the stairs, and Maglor looks thrilled, like he just got saved [from this conversation] by the luckiest happenstance ever.

'Don't you know we worry about you?' Earendil asks him with osanwe. 'If you are going to tell Elwing and me that we have to move forward and not stab ourselves, then we can tell you to practice trying to eat more.'

Maglor nods begrudgingly, looking like a pouting child, a little.

And then Elwing and Elrond come in, and Elwing tells Maglor what Elrond said to the maia, all thrilled that he spoke in her defense, against the demi-god.

Maglor looks horrified. "She could have killed you," he chastises Elrond, somber. "And think of how many people would die after that, would go to war against her for you, in revenge. And think of your parents, I'd have to cry with them in Mandos forever about it, after she killed us too when we came for her with swords."

"I do not think she would," Elrond argues, trying to calm him, and convince him. "Her power is greatly diminished, here in our remade world. People even say Orome is a more appropriate partner for Celegorm now, because of that. Also the maiar can no longer use their power on us unless we willingly ask for it over and over."

"Like she cares about rules!" Maglor counters. "Like any of them do."

"I have spoken to her many times, I don't think she'd hurt me even if I did just tell her to get the hell out," Elrond tells him, and goes over to him, and hugs his shoulders while leaning over him; Maglor is still sitting down. "I'm sorry you were scared for us. For me. You know I wouldn't put myself in real danger. Because then you'd scold me, and father would have to rescue me, and who knows what mother would do – probably something amazing that the elves would put in new history books. And then we'd all be angry about the new mediocre songs that the elves would write about us."

"I was scared," Maglor admits, and Elwing turns into a big crocheted afghan and throws it [ie herself-as-blanket] all over him.

He makes a weird squeaking noise, and Elrond tells him. "It's alright, it's only mother. See? She's a blanket."

"Yes, it's just me," Elwing agrees, making her voice audible so that it's easier for Maglor to relax.

" … This is a nice blanket," Maglor admits. "But don't think you've distracted me. I don't want you to do that again. Think of how annoying my complaining will be. I am a very loud and obnoxious person."

Elrond smiles.

"I won't," he tells him, "I was just worried for mother. And technically this all violated the rules, both that the valar and maiar are now subject to in the remaking, and also Gil-Galad's rules about our city."

Elwing looks [technically 'feels' like, as her emotions pour onto him, metaphysically] like she's died of happiness and gone to something better than Mandos, to think that Elrond came to defend her specifically.

"I should tell everyone else things are fine," Maglor says. "Do you want to lay on someone else?" he asks Elwing, looking down at her, because she's still a blanket that's wrapped around him.

"Sure," she says, and hops over to drape around Elrond's shoulders, who laughs, pleased.

Maglor leaves to reassure the populace, and his family [of Nelyo, Finno and Glorfindel] that they are safe.

Later on, Elwing confesses to Earendil that she has asked Celegorm to go ask Melian what she was going to say – because Elrond showed up literally right away and started telling her off for bothering his mother, who she had left to her horrible fate [of Doriath falling, et cetera.]

"I mean, I do hate her guts," Elwing has told him, "but I want to know what she was going to say so I can be angry about it specifically."

[Celegorm apparently not only did it, but later reported to her that Melian had wanted to say that she was sorry. And that she felt she should interfered with Thingol's evil, joyous thievery-keeping of the stone, because yes it was wrong, and also because Thingol was spellbound by it, addicted. Dependent. Unable to think clearly, needing it.

And then so was Dior.

Celegorm really has no fear gene, Earendil thinks. He's similar to Fingon in that way. Only Celegorm would roll up to Melian with a question from Elwing, totally uncaring of the level of danger that put him in. Then again, he is with Orome, so maybe Melian doesn't faze him at all, and seems like a minor demi-god to him.]

Eventually he actually sees Celegorm in person, with Elwing, and Maglor there to 'supervise' his brother. Celegorm barely even acts like an elf half the time, which is interesting.

He tells Earendil at one point, "I figured it out, you know. That Glorfindel was tricking me. Elwing accidentally smacked my bare arm as we were running into the water once and it didn't hurt at all. He and Elrond lied, saying you all were electric eels."

This is something that's been invented, Earendil knows. It's some type of self-sustaining something with time crystals.

Those eels have been called angry catfish forever, but now as a joke people say 'electric' instead, after Feanor's new inventions that he works on with Elwing. [The first name for it was 'ítacelmë' but people say the slang name for it instead now, which comes more from the language of the Ainur – Feanor has told him their speech is called 'Valarin'. Elves don't like it, he's told him, but he does. … Of course. Feanor is very unelflike in many ways, Earendil thinks.

Feanor has shown him information about it before, at his request, because of how he knows Elrond is interested in it, so he wanted to check it out. That was a mistake. It's literally the most difficult language of all time. Earendil mentally checked out after Feanor showed him that Telperion is 'Ibrīniðilpathānezel' in this tongue. Unbelievable.

At one point Feanor went on an hour long rant about he still didn't like the Lambengolmor, and that Elrond didn't either. Then he had to explain to Earendil who they are, they're apparently the 'book people' of the elves, who know things about history and languages.

Elrond had already pre-warned Earendil about Feanor's general attitudes, as far as he knows them – and had warned him not to insult Rúmil before him, since Feanor praises him greatly, despite his propensity to drink too much.]

"Well, I'm not the same as them in blood, remember," Earendil points out. They have maian blood, and he doesn't.

Celegorm gives him a quizzical look. "All special blood is the same," he dismisses.

He asks Elwing what she thinks later, when they're alone. She agrees with those words, to his surprise.

"You could learn magic if you want," she tells him. "You just are like Maglor, you think of yourself a certain way. You'd be scared to go beyond yourself, and be a pen instead of a person. A pen isn't alive. Whereas I don't want to be me, my self. I willingly enter into depersonalization and derealization. When you were little you were always yourself; I wasn't. It's like playing at being permanently obliterated soul-wise, dead and non-existing. So it's different."

"Yeah … " he agrees. "I think I'm good. I don't need more, of anything."

Chapter Text

Earendil is an only child, so it interests him to kind of covertly notice Maglor slowly being more open to talking to his brothers. Elwing has said that after many, many times accompanying them as a chaperone, Celegorm and Maglor have actually spoken.

Okay, mostly it's Celegorm telling him to come look at something cool, but still. That counts, compared to the radio silence of before.

At the dwarven parties, recently Maglor has come over to ask Earendil how he's liking it, or just potentially really to escape his crazy fanbase [yes, of dwarves there, but elves are present too], and he has exchanged words with Caranthir in front of him.

[Typically he just asks him if he's being polite to Earendil, and Caranthir says yes.]

Elrond, and Maglor too, display the little things he got them, and that Elwing got Elrond; though it's a long time before he sees Maglor's room again as he rarely is in it [either he or Maglor], but it's a surprise for all of it. It almost feels weird, to see them display these things in private spaces, just for them all, where no one else sees. Where there is no need to pretend in front of others.

It makes him feel something, some good feeling.

Eventually Elwing no longer needs Maglor to be there with her when she talks to Eärwen and Anairë, but tells him she likes him to be there as a friend now, not a helper. So he comes once in a while, when she wishes it.

Earendil asks him if he minds it during one of his lessons, which are truly more like hang out sessions that have a label/excuse, and he says, "Well at first it was interesting, and new. I have never spent any time with Eärwen and Anairë, as they were here, and I was over across the sea. And even when I returned, they obviously didn't have any interest in me, or vice versa. Except in a 'don't raise your people and do anything crazy or violent, way, of course."

"Are they your aunts, or not really?" Earendil asks him.

Some elves say Feanor has no brothers, on many sides politically, actually [like Feanor is 'too good', or 'too bad'.] And Maglor has never seemed to have any interest in talking to Finarfin or Fingolfin, to his amateur eye.

"Oh, I suppose so," Maglor hedges, contemplating it as he lays on the big pillows on Earendil's couch. "But really I don't know them even a little, so no. They are random old people. And politically I can't offend them."

"Are they nice?" Earendil asks him.

"Oh yes," Maglor assures him. "I would raise hell among you if I thought they weren't kind to Elwing. But they are; they are even nice to me – of course I play for them, as a way to make it easier for them all to socialize, and few elves will turn me down. Even ones who should."

"I wonder what it would feel like, to be an elf," Earendil tells him, pondering it.

"Hmm," Maglor says, and moves his feet around a little; very unelflike. "I don't know, I guess. I do think elves may be more prone to extremes, than say you all with higher blood. So either extremely prideful, commanding – or the opposite, devoted servants. You all seem more, like, independent. You have this extra innate dignity, and don't appear as obsessed with the elven world, the politics, the everything. Take Elrond, for example, he has no need to be some publically worshipped king, though he could have been, easily. He just doesn't care about what the elves think. He does not desire their applause. Whereas a regular king I think would be more overt, do more superficial things, do more events in public and ceremonially."

"Is it the people here?" Earendil asks him. "Did they not do that with you and Nelyo?"

"Oh, they did do it, unfortunately," Maglor says wryly. "Nelyo was too sick to even notice them half the time, and I was busy worrying about him, and also busy being a kinslayer. It is Elrond's wish for them to ignore him in practice, unless Erestor says otherwise for a special occasion, or when foreign dignitaries visit and Elrond needs to look powerful before them."

"Elves don't seem very passionate," Earendil comments. "Do you think that's true?"

Maglor mmhms and ponders it. "I think it depends on 'what' one is being passionate about. For the Noldor, all our work is passionate, of course. And our interest in nature, and study, and studying nature. But I do think we are a little closer to dwarves in that way – that it is said they often choose their work over love and family. I don't think elves are as demonstrative or as pure, as you all with higher blood. Elves are a little restrained, a little too elegant instead of being more emotional. Always their image is important. This is what is valued in our culture. Do you agree?"

"Yes," he says. "You all seem very … inhibited. Everything is so restrained, and quiet. Unless at a party."

"I think the higher the elf in blood and class group, the more you see it," Maglor adds. "I also think you all aren't as bogged down in our labels – people think me and Finno are just shocking as friends even, because we are of different factions. And in terms of eating, I think because we need so little to live, say with food, that we aren't as much enjoyers of food in the same way that say Elrond would relish eating something he wanted. I do think the royal elves are almost an exception though. So I don't know."

"Do you savor food, when you eat? Enjoy it greatly, I mean?" Earendil asks. That last part is part of it; Maglor sometimes seems to barely eat.

"Um … I guess so, but I'm not a good example," Maglor decides. "I am not good at swallowing after all this time, and even now I can feel the echo of the difficulty. I think it's more that I don't desire that pleasure very much, compared to other things I want, like writing music."

He nods. Maglor does want to do that constantly, or play and sing; comparatively he has no interest in sustaining himself with any fare.

"Am I right in thinking elves don't really do intimacy very much? They seem so cold and sedate," Earendil asks him.

Maglor laughs. "Partly I agree. But partly I don't. I think some of the elven 'attempt at perfection' thing is natural, and some of it is really not – I think some elves try to overcompensate in different ways. Like there's no way Fingolfin didn't want to wring my father's neck six ways from Sunday, but he tried to be as silent and restrained as possible. Amras says he and Finarfin seem to love my father, and talk to him all the time, which seems odd. But then it must have hurt them, to be rejected by their 'better' sibling. I hope you heard that ironic emphasis, in my voice."

Like Maglor and his lesser/younger brothers? He wonders.

"I will say that I think it all depends on the elf in question – so elves that are more passionate people in general are going to be therefore naturally more interested in intimacy. Basically, if I walk in on Finno kissing my brother one more time, I will start wolf whistling, just to tease them," Maglor says, amused. "What do you think? What do we seem like?"

Earendil shrugs. "Mostly like statues."

Maglor laughs. "Well, I can think of many that are like that. I'm going to call for some wine, do you want anything?"

He does. Maglor orders a big tray for them.

Maglor drinks watered down wine sometimes, like now, and Earendil drinks a thick fruit-cream beverage.

"I definitely think a big factor is who else is there – at home with their families, I would say elves act much more casually," Maglor opines, while trying some raspberry doberge cake, dunking it in liquid chocolate to make it even softer. "But out and about, there's so much more to think about. Honor, your king, all that stuff."

Earendil remembers how Elrond told him not to eat chocolate before sleeping. "Do you ever feel more energy, after some chocolate?" he asks him.

Maglor blinks, surprised. "I don't think so. But then, I've only recently been into it, as it's a way to soup-ize other things. I mostly like berries, like jams or pie, instead. I know Elrond said it made him feel more alert, like how tea does."

He nods, and tries a cream and strawberry shortcake layer dessert. It's very good.

"Do I seem like a statue?" Maglor asks him, interested.

"Only sometimes," Earendil says, trying to soften it.

It's true – even Maglor, who is a bit unconventional among the elves, often is very still. Before his sickness was a kind of extra reason for it, but now he still does it, after the remaking.

"Feanor is very different," Earendil continues. "Always lively, always moving. He doesn't seem like an elf almost at all, to me."

Maglor looks amused, holding his wine glass and leaning back against the pillows of the couch. "That's an accurate assessment," he agrees. "My father has too much energy, famously. But regular elves are not given to extraneous movement, I agree. Unless they are dancing, or drinking, I think."

"You do do little things that are not like an elf," Earendil adds. Maglor looks intrigued immediately. "Like movements, really, or how you exist physically somewhere. I've never seen elves act like you and Glorfindel; he does it too, sometimes."

"Mmhm," Maglor muses. "How utterly unusual. I wonder if it's because I'm so used to Elrond that I copy his behaviors unconsciously, like osmosis. And the same for Glorfindel."

"I try to act like an elf a lot," Earendil admits. "But I don't think I do well."

"You do better than me," Elwing says suddenly, looking at them both from within the reflection of a freestanding, tall mirror in the room.

Maglor looks astonished, to see her there. "Are you behind that? Or are you 'in' it?"

"I'm in it, and no, there is no other 'mirrorland' inside it," Elwing explains. "It's just a regular looking glass."

"I wasn't going to ask that," Maglor defends, and Elwing raises an eyebrow at him. He always asks that, despite Elwing telling him every time that the only world there is, is the one they are in right now.

"Uh huh," she says, and Maglor laughs.

"Fine," he confesses. "I was thinking it. Why are you in there, anyway?"

"I wanted to hear if you thought we were good at acting like elves. They're hard to imitate," Elwing informs him, and walks out of the mirror as if through an open doorway, and comes to sit with Earendil.

"I don't know if that makes sense, though," Maglor tells her. "This concept of 'acting'. Elves are naturally lesser, less radiant, less powerful. So how could you lower yourselves – wear a big cloak or something, so people don't see your extra glow as much?"

"No, I mean how we try to act like sculptures," Elwing explains. "And never move, and not be emotional."

"Ooh," he says. "Well, I haven't really thought of you as over move-y, or overly emotional."

"We must be, the elves treat us funny," Elwing points out.

Maglor looks thoughtful. "Where you say 'funny', would I say instead 'nervous, in awe, and wishing to be servile before you'? You are both incredibly famous, and all respect you. I can see their bowing and scraping being unappealling to you both."

"They always act surprised," Earendil details.

"Maybe they're expecting you both to act like a typical old fashioned Noldor king and queen, subconsciously. So when you don't wear loads of jewels, and keep a court, and on and on, everyone doesn't get it," Maglor theorizes. "People definitely act weirdly with me – not just for my evil, but because of my music. They gush and get anxious and get emotional, too, telling me how much they were moved by a piece, or loved one. I expect it though, actually I see it as a compliment. I mean I am talented at music, so people falling apart and being barely able to express how much they love it, due to being overwhelmed, means I'm doing a good job. But I can see how it would be weird if I didn't have my musical skill, and I were just going on a walk, and they all were like that anyway, randomly. Do the elves do that to you here, my people, I mean?"

He looks concerned.

Elwing tells him no. "The elves here think you and Elrond don't want us to be bothered," she says simply. "So they try to pretend we are just other elves that are not unusual. Most of them feel sad for us. They think you like us, so they love us more."

Maglor smiles at her. "I do like you two."

"Will you sing and brush our hair when we're sleeping? I like that," Elwing tells him, straightforward, and he agrees.

Maglor gets up and goes over to the harp he keeps in Earendil's house. "What type of songs do you want? Any theme?"

"Just nice ones," she says. Elwing almost alway wants 'happy music', Maglor already knows what that means.

"Alright," he says, and sings while harping for a while.

When Earendil wakes up, he can tell Maglor aleady brushed his hair, and from Elwing to him some feelings of comfort, and pleasure and her greater power flood into his awareness; he could already feel the goodness she felt, but now understands more.

But even apart from that, Maglor put blankets on them and smoothed his hand over them; he can almost feel the echo of his power, of how it's tipped over and poured out onto them both. It's like he can now recognize his power's 'signature', the way you'd know someone's handwriting.

Elrond has never touched him with his power, since he 'stores' it up for use for healing; he doesn't know if it would feel like Elwing's. His parents have light auras, as does Nimloth. Maglor has a more intense aura, when his energy falls onto them, but it's intense in the thorough way, a relaxing way. Like how you would cover a bed with a sheet and not have any part of the top not covered with it, and that would be nice to rest on.

Like being in a big cloud of softness, that's what it feels like.

Of course he can feel the power in it, and understands that Maglor used to use his power to fight and kill. He's not dim. But knowing someone is very powerful, and feeling them treat you very warmly, and gently, despite what they could do, is another level of experience; it's very soothing. This must be why Celegorm is so obsessed with Orome, he assumes.

[He doesn't feel like that with Elwing, like one would think – he's known her since they were kids. So she is normal to him, and also she's never really summoned her power into something focused, that you would use to hurt people. Paradoxically, Maglor's more dangerous, aggressive power is very good at being soft, soothing or whatever word like that, probably because he has focused it [to kill other elves, and the enemy's agents] so many times.]

While they were resting, Maglor laid them both down on the big couch beside each other before he brushed their hair [literally, there's a hairbrush on the table nearby.] He can feel it still, now, after it's happened, both on his scalp and everywhere else; it's like it echoes within his body, the pleasantness of it, and the emotional warmth of being loved. It's so good that it almost gives him goosebumps; it makes him shiver a little.

He looks around the room and spots Maglor at an open window, leaning out of it.

'Hm?' he asks him, murmuring very quietly, wondering what he's doing.

Maglor turns and pulls himself back inside. 'Finwe is here, my brother is updating me.'

'Hnhn,' Earendil murmurs unhappily with osanwe, and frowns. They both speak mentally becaue Elwing is still resting.

'Apparently grandfather's currently talking to Elrond, who is monopolizing him to spare everyone else – this is clearly the fault of your blood, the heroic tendencies,' Maglor says, amused. 'But I don't want him to be the sacrificial lamb. I am going to go rescue him. In the boring way, not in the 'songs are written about it' way.'

'Okay,' Earendil says quietly.

Maglor comes over to him, and sits on the couch beside both of them. 'I guess this got interrupted; we can finish later,' he tells him, and hugs him for a moment. It feels very good, like everything is right in the world, and everyone is happy and safe.

Then he goes off, and later when Elwing stops resting, she tells him she's been shortchanged, and when next with Maglor demands her missing hug.

Elrond shows up a while after Maglor has left; in the interim Earendil has been dozing again while Elwing tries things from the earlier tray of refreshments.

When he knocks Earendil shows him in, and Elrond comes and sits with them. "Lindir told me he was with you here, before he came to be passive aggressive at his grandfather," Elrond says. He still often calls Maglor by his fake name. "He wants something done to help Curvo; I am going to see him, after I talk to Feanor and Nerdanel. I don't know if Lindir will come with me or not. … Finwe is convinced that Lady Nimloth must want revenge on Curvo; he isn't really in the know with us all."

"I don't think she is afraid of a guy who stays in bed all the time," Elwing contributes. "He used to follow Celegorm, and he's not hanging out with him now."

"I am concerned Finwe might try to bother Lady Nimloth, out of his misplaced misinterpretation of things – mother, could you ask her what I could say to him on her behalf to shut him down about it?"

"Yes, I will go ask," Elwing assures him, and vanishes.

"I want to have some of your wine, here," Elrond tells Earendil, and he nods. His son pours some out into a glass for himself. "Do you want any?"

"No," he says, "I don't really like strong alcohol. I used to take a lot of waterskins on my ship instead that were very light beer or water. But I like juice, or milk, the most."

Elrond nods. Earendil goes back to eating the stuff on the tray – it's not like he and Maglor ate it all before, Maglor only tries little bites of food. The banana pudding pie is good.

"I've invited Caranthir over to talk about books," Elrond tells him. "And of course I have already warned Lindir and Nelyo. They have agreed that they have no issue with it, if we don't, and mother doesn't."

Elwing has said before that Caranthir is interesting due to his lack of 'normality elven-wise', and Earendil agrees. And it's nice to have a fellow wallflower friend at the dwarven parties.

"But now I have to go evaluate Curvo," Elrond continues. "I don't want to rescind my invitation to Moryo, or reschedule, lest he be offended or think it wasn't sincere in the first place. When he comes, could you show him my library?"

"Yeah," Earendil agrees. It's easy to agree to whatever Elrond wants in the moment.

It's less easy to actually do it in real life. Caranthir indeed appears as was said, and Earendil takes him to Elrond's big library. He went and asked Erestor if they could have it be avoided by elves a bit when he's there, just to make sure it goes smoothly, cause it'll be awkward already. Why add to it.

Erestor agrees, and then Earendil finds himself trailing Moryo in the library, bored out of his mind, while he looks at the books.

Sometimes he randomly will say something about a book to Earendil, absently. Mostly he is quiet.

After what seems like forever, Caranthir turns to him and says, "This is incredible. Which are your favorite?"

Earendil shrugs. "I don't really like books."

The look on Caranthir's face is so totally only shock alone that Earendil is worried he might faint. But he grabs a bookshelf and seems to steady himself.

"But … you're Elrond's father," Caranthir says to him, almost begging him to recant this horrifying admission. Ha, he thinks.

"Sorry," Earendil explains. "As you know, I didn't actually live with Elrond, a long time ago. So this has to be Maglor's influence."

Caranthir looks astonished all over again. "Maglor doesn't care about books," he disagrees. "Not even music books."

"Well, he definitely raised him to be this learned, and fancy," Earendil adds.

"Do you really both live here?" Moryo asks him.

"Yes, we are very close," Earendil explains.

"But … " he says, and peters out, looking like he can't even find the words.

"The past was a long time ago," Earendil finds himself saying, and he almost believes it, to be honest.

"Did Kano okay this, that I'm here?" he asks him, and Earendil nods. "What is he like, now?"

"Well, I've only known Maglor recently," Earendil explains. "So I don't know if he's different than he was in ancient times. But he's, you know, really into music. And his other brother is here, so he talks to him a lot. I guess that's it."

"Did he really burgle and adopt children, and Elrond is one of them?" Caranthir asks him in a whisper. "I know everyone says it, but it's impossible to believe. Kano, of all people. He probably couldn't keep a plant alive, because he'd be too distracted by writing scores."

Earendil smiles a little. "I guess he figured it out," he offers. "Since Elrond's fine."

"Is it true he's talking to Celegorm all the time?" Caranthir asks, looking more somber now.

"He's making sure he doesn't offend my wife," Earendil says. "I think he thought Celegorm might not be polite, but apparently he is."

Caranthir shakes his head. "What a crazy world this is; it's hard to believe. Orome's favorite being mannered? Kano having a family – that he literally stole? I don't know anything, or anyone it seems, anymore. And I don't just mean because Celegorm is totally off his rocker and Kano wants to slit our throats personally. … Do you know Nelyo too?"

"Yes," Earendil says.

"Do you know if he's feeling well?" he asks, and Earendil assures him that he seems quite well. Moryo nods, looking happy to hear it.

"I don't really understand how you and your wife can talk to any of us, after what happened," Caranthir continues. "I don't get it. People say Kano is pleased with you and her. None of this makes sense."

Earendil nods. "Well, for us it's different," he starts. "Maglor is like our co-parent. So. And then the rest of you we don't know. My wife's choices are her own. But we are both not so stupid as to not see the thievery that occurred. And we can see how all were addicted to those horrid things."

He looks confused. "But she kept it, right?" Caranthir asks in a whisper. "That's what I've read, at least, in these modern history books. I didn't watch anything in the halls, it was too upsetting."

"She was very young, and her life was ruined when she was a baby; Doriath fell, her family all died, and so she was alone, and her advisors told her to," Earendil explains. "I was gone on my mission; she didn't know what to do."

Caranthir looks like he might actually get upset; elves don't usually do that.

"It was easier when I thought she was some crazy magic evil goddess," he admits. "This is just sad."

"I know," Earendil agrees. "But it's in the past, now."

"Maglor said I could help organize copies of his songs," Caranthir tells him. "It almost seems like he isn't as angry at me, now."

"Well, the past was a long time ago," he says again, and Caranthir shakes his head.

"No, I'm sure he remembers what I said to him … and he and Nelyo are probably still angry about a lot of other things. What I said about Angrod too. I didn't mean it to be such a big thing, I wasn't thinking. I just said it automatically, because it was so riduculous. Finarfin's children were acting like they were actually in charge at times, because he stayed at home and ruled there – here, in Aman. So the most cowardly person's kids get to be big shots? It was laughable."

"Can't you just say sorry, to Maglor and the other guy?" Earendil asks him, and Caranthir looks dubious.

"Angrod would probably burn a letter from me without opening it, and Kano would just laugh at me," he says.

"What if you switched it – send Maglor a letter, and tell Galadriel to convey the message to the other one," Earendil suggests.

"I guess," Caranthir says dubiously. "I can't imagine Galadriel choosing to talk to me. I'm sure everyone blames me for what happened at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, like I wanted that. Ugh."

"Can't you send her a note and explain why? I can't imagine elves don't like apologies. They seem very into formal stuff," he says, and Caranthir looks like he doesn't agree, but doesn't say anything.

Eventually he leaves, and Earendil asks Maglor if he can help him with his 'which harps to give away' project. He agrees.

"It's impossible to decide," Maglor tells him in his lightly dramatic way, as they go to Formenos to look at his harps there. They also have to go to Nerdanel's, and the family's country estate too, to look at them all. "So many are unique."

Some of Maglor's people from new Rivendell come with them as servants. Glorfindel told them both he refused to come because Maglor would just 'throw harps at him, like projectiles, when he would inevitably smartly point out that he only technically needs like two of the million harps, in total.' … Earendil feels like that was wise of him. With Glorfindel, Maglor is at his most honest and sardonic.

At Formenos, there are a very many harps. Maglor looks at them all and touches some lightly.

"I guess these are worse in my memories than the others, because of this time period," he considers, looking at a big silver one.

"Are you going to play for the elves here?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor looks surprised. "Here? There's no one in charge here. These are just Curvo's people. They're not foreign."

"Maybe they would like it," he points out. All elves seem to like his music. It seems weird for Maglor to not play, honestly, since he does everywhere else he goes; even Earendil knows this, so it has to be very common knowledge … as he rarely knows what's going on with any of the elves.

Maglor looks like he can't believe his statement.

"Well, if you want to ask them if they do, go ahead," Kano tells him, shrugging finally. So he goes to Maglor's servants that came with them, and asks if they can ask the highest elf here if they'll talk to him.

"Of course, lord," one of them says, and goes off. Then Earendil retreats until that one comes to him, and brings him to the most important person at Formenos.

It's just some random elf that apparently worked with Curvo in the forge. "Lord, you wish to speak to me?" the elf asks him, looking concerned.

"I just wanted to ask if you think the elves here want to hear Maglor play, while he's here; he said it was okay for me to ask you," Earendil explains.

The elf looks surprised. "If Prince Makalaure wishes to, of course," he answers, after a moment.

"Okay. I'll let him know," Earendil tells him, and leaves. He goes back to where Maglor is still poring over his harps the Elrond would with books. "They said yes," he tells Kano.

"Alright," Maglor says. "I'll use this one, but it has to be quick so we can go down to mother's house."

So he goes out into a larger room in Formenos and the elves come to him, and he plays. Earendil stays away, back in the original harp room, since he knows Maglor will want to ride down to Nerdanel's house afterwards [this way he won't fall asleep.]

Maglor and he leave when he stops performing, and they leave the servants there too. "I put a note in one of their hand's," Kano tells him as they ride together. "Telling them to bring the harps back to new Rivendell."

He notices how people like Maglor or Finno 'tell' the servants things, they give orders, and Earendil himself 'asks' for things instead. It must be because they had royal childhoods in the ancient world, he thinks. Elrond actually 'asks' too, which is interesting.

"I'm sure mother will eat with us, unless she's wrapped up in the 'Elrond examing Curvo' situation, we shall find out," Maglor muses.

What's unique this time is that Earendil has never been alert after Maglor has played before; he walked past the resting elves to leave Formenos. They all looked totally out of it, some with tears on their faces, others with their mouths open. How strange to see.

"Do I look as weird after you play as those elves did?" he asks Maglor.

Maglor laughs. "No, you just are asleep. Like Elrond or Elwing would look, when they're asleep."

He remembers seeing the boys sleep, when they were so tiny. Sometimes he and Elwing would watch them, if he weren't out sailing.

"If only you'd been there to help us, back then," he tells him. "We never touched the babies much, we were afraid to do something wrong. The nurses did everything."

"At least we are together now," Maglor agrees. "And Elrond is here with you both. I was always happy, back then, to think of Elrond someday crossing the sea and being reunited with you."

Maglor rides his horse rather slowly; Earendil knows that he held the gap with his calvalry. He must be a good horseman, but never rides much, that Earendil has ever heard of or seen, here in Aman. It's a nice slow ride, with the lovely lands and the birds chirping.

"It's too bad you weren't there, the first time we met him over here, it was an unmitigated disaster," Earendil says frankly. "I don't think you could have prevented it, but maybe you could have kept us from capsizing."

Maglor hmms. "It was good for you all to be together," he counters. "Of course it would be rocky, and strange, at first. But that is the first step – and look how good everything is now."

"True," he agrees.

But he has a feeling that Maglor simply made a better parent in general, than he and Elwing would have. Maglor is way, way, older than them. Both back then and now, of course. And he had a stable childhood, and adulthood, at least until his father lost it a little before Finwe was murdered.

At Nerdanel's house, Elrond is indeed still looking at Curvo. Tylpe is there too, they find. Nerdanel fills them in after they come into a parlor near her sculpture planning area [the workshop itself is in a different nearby building, of course.]

After she is done getting them up to date on what Elrond has said so far, she says, "Do you want to talk to Feanaro? Or have lunch with us?"

"I think so, better to get it over with," Maglor decides, and Earendil nods when he glances at him. So they eat lunch with the two of them. Elrond doesn't come down, or Tylpe, as he is still working on Curvo.

Now that her family is back, Nerdanel's house has a lot of servants in it. They even pour the wine.

It's very different from being in new Rivendell. It's uncomfortable. Maglor of course seems right at home, since he grew up like this. Sometimes he tells him things in osanwe when they're with other elves, if he thinks Earendil doesn't get something, or might not know about something – it's very helpful.

Maglor tells a servant to bring him a jug of juice, which he then drinks, [along with wine as well], and then he asks Earendil if he wants to try it, saying it's good. All, he knows, so that Earendil can have something he actually likes without making it weird and just about him. Maglor's nice like that.

No one [the elves, that is] is surprised when Maglor is eccentric, everybody knows he is in like a million ways: stealing/rescuing Elrond and Elros, raising them like they were his own children [and also teaching them of their many blood cultures], sending them to Lindon when they were ready/older/it was safe to travel, living with Elrond after he rescued him back and healed him, coming across the sea, and then living with Elrond in his city instead of the Feanorean quarter with Nerdanel, and refusing to act like he's himself [ie politically, the only living Feanorean rebel leader etc.]

Feanaro and Nerdanel ask Earendil how he is, and things like that.

"I'm fine. Everything is like usual," Earendil explains. "Elwing said she likes her sculpture lessons," he says to Nerdanel, who smiles.

Nerdanel had laid out a lesson plan for her and given it to Elrond/Maglor's sculpture artists in new Rivendell, after Elwing had said she wanted to be taught by a regular elf at home, and not by the most talented sculptor of all time [ie, Nerdanel] because she was not going to be good at it now, or probably ever.

Nerdanel had found that very funny, and hadn't minded.

"The Queen says you have sometimes seen her at her palace, during the parties there," Nerdanel says.

"Yes, she's great," Earendil says honestly. "It's so nice to … get to talk to her."

She is unique of course, which makes it easier to talk to her than a regular elf.

"She is higher than regular elves, even royals," Maglor says to him, "so it is natural that you would find good conversation in each other's company."

While Maglor and other elves have changed their minds about many things, one immutable, unvarying, firm, set in stone, indelible fact is that everybody thinks Miriel is awesome. Earendil has noticed this. Someone like Maglor has totally changed his opinion on everything [the silmarils, his father, etc, well not Nelyo obviously though] except Miriel. She is considered almost a minor deity, and everyone does needlework once in a while 'in honor of her', even still, now that she lives normally once more.

"Indeed," Feanor agrees, eating his lunch heartily. It's nice to be around him and Nerdanel because of how they both act very passionately, very aggressively, in everything – even something like consuming a little mid-day supper. "Mother always has excellent taste. She loved Nerdanel too as soon as she met her."

Nerdanel smiles.

She and Feanor are always wearing 'work' clothes, as he is in the forge constantly and she is working on her sculptures every day. They do not dress fancy, like say Fingolfin does, or Finarfin [who is even more excessively fancy.]

"Well, you do seem great," Earendil tells her, and she laughs.

Maglor chimes in, setting his spoon down from the soup he was trying. "Mother's only flaw is that she told me I couldn't eat my little beginner harp when I was a very tiny boy, and tried to get me interested in a cookie shaped like one, instead. I'm still pouting about it."

They all laugh.

Earendil can almost forget that there are servants all around, but not. He doesn't. These elves are not like him, in that regard.

But at home he knows that Maglor acts differently, not letting elves see him, or Elrond, or Elwing, if they are doing something 'different', like sleeping with their eyes shut, to preserve and respect their privacy.

The food at Nerdanel's house is not like the food Finarfin serves at his parties with Fingolfin and Finwe. Instead it's much more filling, yet simpler than the food in new Rivendell, which includes influences from a huge amount of other cultures [from middle Earth.]

There are plates of all different types of big sandwiches, but with ordinary fillings that are more plain than the same type of thing would be in new Rivendell.

Maglor tells him what's there, clearly recognizing it all easily from his earlier life here with his family. "What type of thing would you like – there's egg sandwiches, and chicken, and ham, and pork. And the soup is good, I can say having just tried it, it's butternut."

"I could cut them in half, and we both try them; you could try the middle part," he suggests to him.

Maglor sighs, put upon by his wish for him to eat a normal, liveable amount of food and says 'fine'. So Earendil takes one of each and cuts them into two, and gives him some, and then eats his own. Maglor takes a spoon and eats the filling out of them, and not the bread.

His parents don't say anything with words, just their expressions, which thankfully Maglor doesn't seem to see or notice.

They have a nice lunch, and he eats Maglor's extra bread as Feanor and Nerdanel protest that they will have new bread cut for him to eat, instead of eating Maglor's leftovers. He waves them off, and he and Maglor go upstairs to see Elrond.

Royals like them are never going to understand that he's not a 'real' royal like they are; he's not from their culture. He doesn't care about a frickin sandwich, or eating off of Maglor's plate [and he knows that Maglor doesn't care about much of anything at all except for Nelyo, Elrond, music, Glorfindel, Fingon, Earendil and Elwing … probably in that order, honestly.]

Maglor saved his babies from being tortured to death, or worse. Or even just being unloved. … After their parents fucked up. So Earendil isn't exactly precious about his own self, and what he does. He wasn't raised that way, and he isn't worth it anyway.

Also, he's a sailor. He's not exactly used to the good life, the royal world and experience, other than very recently in new Rivendell.

Elrond comes out of a room to talk to them when they walk up onto the second floor of the house. He looks at Maglor for a little bit, and Earendil can tell they must be talking mentally about Curvo.

Then Elrond looks at him directly, and says with osanwe, 'I am going to rest here tonight, and go back home tomorrow. I want to treat Curvo again only after seeing how this time's work has affected him."

'Do you wanna have lunch?" Earendil asks him.

'We could go to my music room,' Maglor offers, and Elrond agrees. They walk out to it together, and Elrond pauses to go let Nerdanel know of his plans, and then comes and joins them.

Maglor sometimes calls it a 'room', but it's a freestanding big building, actually. Once they get there, Maglor starts looking at the zillion harps he has in there; he sometimes will play for a quick moment on one or two and then stop and examine another one.

"Do you want to sleep over here too?" Elrond asks them, and Earendil shrugs.

"If it will make you more comfortable of course – whichever you like," Maglor tells him, and Earendil nods, agreeing.

"Can we sleep over in your room?" he asks Maglor, who groans.

"And make fun of all my childhood toys? I think not," Maglor says sniffs, amused. "We can stay here. The upstairs has lots of room."

"Will father fit on your bed here, though?" Elrond asks him. "He's so much taller than you."

"I had it built so big that Nelyo could stay over, if he wanted," Maglor explains, "so it'll be fine."

And it is. Elrond eats a little something and then lounges around resting lightly from his work for Curvo while Maglor goes through more of his harps.

"This is the hardest thing anyone's ever done," Maglor says dramatically, and Elrond laughs at him. "It is!" he protests.

It's fun to watch him and Elrond interact; this is what the boys' childhood was like, probably, he thinks.

Eventually Elrond wants to play chess with him, so Earendil does; obviously, he loses every time, but it's fun for him to do anything with Elrond, regardless.

Later Maglor orders dinner for them, and they eat in his music building, and then later go to bed early, after all going out to a nearby latrine. Elves often stay up till all hours drinking and dancing and singing, Earendil knows, but Maglor isn't like that, if he's with them. Also, his music building is rather far out from the main building in Nerdanel's estate complex, so even if they do party over there, here they probably won't hear it.

"Will you play me a resting song?" Elrond asks him, as he washes his face and brushes his teeth, and gets into pyjamas of Maglor's.

"Yes," he says, and turns to Earendil, who is waiting for Elrond to be done. "I have sleep clothes for my brother here – why don't you try them on."

"Okay," he agrees, and Maglor goes and fetches some for him, and then shows him another room that he can change in.

It's nice, how Maglor is more into modesty and privacy than some elves seem to be, because it would be weird to show anyone his body any more than he has to. That is only for Elwing. [He doesn't really know if elves are different in terms of their bodies, and doesn't really want to find out. Though it has seemed to him that they are more slender-ish than he is, with fewer muscles.]

When he comes out, after also brushing his hair with the soft brush Maglor gave him, Elrond is already sleeping on his side under the covers and blankets, and Maglor is playing something on a harp that Earendil can't hear. It's silent; all he can hear is the sound of nature from beyond the windows. Wait … what?!

He steps closer. He still can't hear it. But Maglor is clearly playing, his hands are moving the strings; he can see the harp strings moving after he taps on them [or whatever the right terminology is that Maglor would insist upon.]

'?' he touches Maglor with osanwe, just sending him a questioning feeling.

Maglor looks over at him, still playing without even having to see the strings, and says back mentally 'Elrond put a little magic on me so that only he'd hear this, in case you didn't want to sleep so soon. He – we – didn't want you to hear it in the other room and fall to the floor in induced sleep, and hit your head.'

'Oh, okay,' he agrees. 'Do you want to be in the middle, in the bed?'

Maglor makes a look with his face as if he's shrugging, but he's physically not, because he's literally still playing the harp. 'I don't care, really it's whatever you are most comfortable with. When I was sick, Elrond and Glorfindel were always there beside me, at night. I can actually sleep on the couch, if you wish. It doesn't matter to me; reverie is not as serious as sleep, of course.'

'Please be in the middle,' Earendil asks him, gesturing to the bed, and he agrees. He goes and washes his own face, and brushes his teeth. Maglor has all sorts of products for this on the counter by the basin of water he poured out for this purpose. He sniffs the different ones, just to see what they all smell like; all nice scents.

Maglor eventually stops playing, and puts his harp over on a side table. Then he goes off and gets into his own resting clothes and gets in beside Earendil, who is already there on the side of the bed.

It's at this point that Earendil realizes he is supposed to go to sleep now … and he doesn't have his hammock. He always sleeps in it. He and Elwing always do. He lays there on his back and looks at the ceiling and wants to smack himself. How stupid.

'Can I ask you something,' Maglor says with osanwe, so as not to disturb Elrond's rest, and he looks over at him. Maglor is laying on his side, facing him.

'I was given to believe that real sleeping involved closing your eyes,' Maglor mentions mentally to him. 'But your eyes are open. Do you not go to sleep quickly, like Elrond?'

'Usually I do,' he explains, looking down at the excessive amount of blankets that Maglor put on top of himself specifically; he asked him earlier if he wanted more too, but he said no. 'But I forgot that I don't usually sleep over at places – I just go home. And at home I sleep in a hammock. So it feels weird to try to sleep in a bed.'

'Really?' Maglor says, surprised. 'A hammock? I guess I think of those as between trees, for fun in the summer. Not for nighttime. But that's easy. Wait, I'll come back in a little bit.'

Maglor pushes back all his blankets, climbs over Earendil's ankles, puts on his little shoes, and leaves the room. Earendil watches him go, and then waits there like he said, and listens to Elrond breathe.

After a while, he returns with Feanor himself, who waves hello to him.

'I already warned father not to speak, so as not to disturb Elrond,' Maglor tells Earendil mentally, as he puts a thick blanket carefully over Elrond's face and then turns on some low light lamps [oh, it's so he doesn't wake up due to the light, he realizes]. 'Father is going to set this hammock here over the bed, so come here.'

Earendil gets out of bed, and watches as Feanor does just that. He sets one wooden stand behind the bed's headboard, and another at the end of it, and then slings the hammock between them.

Then he looks at them and gestures to it, clearly saying, 'try it'. Earendil climbs into it, and it works. It's a real hammock. He thanks Feanor with osanwe, and he waves a hand that clearly means 'it was nothing' and leaves.

Maglor takes the blanket he'd put on Elrond's face off after he turns those little lamps off, and puts some sheets and a blanket on him, tucking them in atop the hammock, which he likes, and gives him a pillow too from the bed, sticking it in behind him, for his head, and then goes to the end of the bed and climbs onto it that way, so he doesn't have to jar the hammock part to get to his spot in the middle. Then Maglor pulls his own many blankets up over him, and lays back on his pillow.

Earendil tells him thank you mentally.

'No,' Maglor says to him, 'it was my forgetting, not thinking to ask you more questions about staying over.'

He goes to sleep easily after that. The room is warm, and he can feel Maglor there to one side with all his blankets piled up on him like some weird stack. Up close, Maglor smells like some old fashioned cologne, that's light and sweet, that's nice. And of course, his sheets are dried by the launderers with scent on them anyway, as royals do.

The next morning, he wakes up to find Maglor already up and looking at his own things in the bedroom, while Elrond is still asleep.

He climbs out of his hammock, and onto the bed, and then off the bed. Then he realizes how utterly nonsensical this all is. Feanor put this hammock over the bed, not just in the room. And he gets a closer, better look at it now, and realizes it's freshly made. As in, Feanor made this for him last night, literally.

Maglor notices him moving about and tells him mentally 'I already called for some brunch.'

That's when Earendil realizes how late it is; he and Elrond slept for a long time. He nods at him, a little stunned for multiple reasons, and goes and does all his ablutions. Then he changes back into the clothes he was wearing, only to find that they are freshly laundered, weirdly.

… Maglor's servants here, Nerdanel's, really, cleaned his clothes last night while he was asleep, for him. This is a great example of something Maglor is probably used to that he isn't, he thinks.

He puts them on, and goes down to see what the brunch trays are like, and Maglor is already down there, still looking at harps as if he just started and has never seen any of them before [which he knows is not true.]

After he hits the latrine, he comes back and tries the griddle cakes with syrup and fruit and light cream while watching Maglor fiddle with his hoard of harps.

How crazy that he and Feanor did all that last night, he thinks. In the cold light of day it seems insane. At the time, he didn't really question it, because he was tired, and it was pretty dark, even with those little lamps that Maglor turned on so that Feanor could work easier.

Even though Earendil stayed away from Maglor's performance in Formenos, he still could literally hear it, just faintly, and apparently even that was enough to fatigue him, or at least make him yearn for more rest than usual.

Maglor though is often like this; he does things for him and Elwing [and several other people] and acts like it's totally normal [it's not.]

Elrond comes down later and says, leaning on the stairs, still in his pyjamas [of Maglor's], "Why is there a weird sack over the bed? Am I imagining this?"

Maglor laughs.

"It's for me," Earendil explains. "It's a hammock. To sleep in."

Elrond looks confused. "What's wrong with a bed?"

"I'm not used to them," he spells out, eating some plain shirred eggs. "Maglor got it for me."

"They're not comfy," Elwing suddenly says, appearing and sitting on his lap. He puts his fork down, and puts his arms around her waist so she can learn back against him comfortably.

Elrond considers this. "Then I must try one – maybe I will like it, and you must too," he says to Maglor, "for we need to compare this to an elf's experience."

"I know the sailor elves do it," Earendil says. "When we're on the water."

"See? There you go," Maglor tells them. "No question about elves."

Elrond laughs, eyes sparkling. "Now I really want to see you in it, c'mon."

Maglor sighs like a little drama queen, and sets down the harp he was looking at, and trots upstairs. Earendil leaves them to it. Elwing looks back at him and says, "I missed everybody."

"Okay," he agrees. This is clearly to explain why she's come.

"I actually came when you were asleep, but didn't want to scare everybody, so I pretended I was another blanket – Maglor had so many on him! But then before you woke up I turned invisible and just watched everyone for a while," she explains.

"Why didn't you say hi?" he asks her. He can't imagine being there and not being part of the group, at least visually, if nothing else, since he's often more quiet than elves are.

In fact, that sounds like a nightmare to him … like his time on the ship was. So alone, and voiceless. Hearing things at times, but that's it, no real communication.

"I know, we're opposites," Elwing tells him. "I don't want to be me. You want to be a person in the first place. We want opposite things. I like to see everyone in their 'real' state together. Having fun. If I add me in, sometimes I make mistakes, and then it's not fun."

Maglor and Elrond return, and he can hear Elrond's steps clomp on the stairs much more than he can hear Maglor's – this must be due to his higher blood. They tell them their conclusions about hammock-resting, after they both just tried it.

"Well, Lindir fell out, of the thing. Onto the bed," Elrond says, looking like he's trying not to laugh. "So safe to say it's not for him. I thought it was okay, but it makes me feel like I'm flying somehow, and it keeps distracting me from sleeping, or a pantomime of it."

"Eat something, child," Maglor tells him.

"Come with me, then," Elrond asks, and they both sit down with Earendil, and Maglor eats as well, some tea and some soft bread dipped in morning drinking liquid chocolate.

Elwing eats too, as Maglor invites her to specifically, and adds, "Just so you know, the food is very good, but it is in the ancient royal-style. So it's not like at home in new Rivendell."

"Okay," Elwing says, and tries some stuff.

"What do you all want to do today?" Maglor asks them eventually, after they all eat a little.

"I want to talk to giant spider crabs under the ocean," Elwing tells him. "But Celegorm can't come unless I put him in a magic bubble. So Feanor is making a special outfit for him, so he can come too. The pressure of being that far down underwater would kill Celegorm because he can't leave his body, his soul is more stuck in it."

Maglor looks horrified. " … Are these crabs as creepy looking as I think they are?" he asks, and she nods.

Then Maglor moves his head oddly and exclaims, "Agh! Did you just do that?"

Elwing nods. "I showed you in your mind."

Maglor waves a hand at her. "Please only show me blankets, flowers and waterfalls forevermore. That was so creepy that I think I need a healer, to survive seeing the image."

"I want to see it," Elrond says, and Earendil joins in. So Elwing shows them. "Okay, it is very creepy," Elrond judges, looking at Maglor with sympathy.

"What's wrong with talking to some nice pink little armadillos?" Maglor suggests to her. "Or a sweet hedgehog?"

"People are drawn to animals that are like them," Elwing explains. "Elves to elves – but sometimes more than that. Celegorm is not mentally very elf-y, so he is drawn to nature and that demi-god. And I am just a bunch of detritus in the shape of a person, who shouldn't have even been born. What foolishness, to mix blood. So I am drawn to the strange things. Because I am strange."

"Like me," Earendil says, into the shocked silence her words have created.

Elwing agrees. "Yes."

Maglor shakes his head, visually looking like he's trying to put this to the side. "No, you are not weird. None of you are. Just because the society we're in is made up mostly of a bunch of boring people that also happen to be the same, doesn't reflect on you. You are lovely and perfect the way you are."

"He's right," Elrond tells them seriously. "I've never felt like I was different in a bad way; I just thought I had better powers, better abilities. That I was luckier than the people around me. It's the same for you."

"It is far better to be unique than to be some boring typical interchangeable elf," Maglor tells them. "I have often thought, what if I'd been a regular person? Just a nobody elf, with no skill, no royal blood. Even with my terrible life, I'd still pick it again over being that potential safer person. And I'm happy how things are now, here. I wouldn't want to miss all this. I wouldn't want to miss out on meeting you all."

"Yes," Elrond agrees. He gets up and goes over to sit beside his parents. "Mother, I am so happy I have been able to meet you, and see you. I would never want us to be elves. Instead, everything is better, and more special. I love that we're unique – we're unique together."

Elwing climbs off of Earendil, and over to Elrond, and he hugs her. "I'm so happy to see you all together," Maglor says, watching them. "How beautiful."

"We finally have a real family," Earendil tells him. "With Elrond, and you."

Maglor looks sad. "I am a poor substitute," he says quietly. For Elros, he means, of course.

"I don't want anybody to leave," Elwing says, as Elrond rests against the back of the couch with her. "I don't want you to leave."

"I won't, child," Maglor tells her. "Even if I must change my name, and pretend I'm someone else. I will no longer go to mine own people; instead I will go with you all. But I will probably try to take Nelyo and Finno along. Just so you know."

Elwing looks back at him. "I like them two. And you should stay with us. I have magic powers. So I'd probably be able to win if we had to take out other people. Did you see my cool falcon? Finno got it for me."

"Yes, but not really up close," Maglor says, taking a sip of drinking chocolate. "It did look very nice. But then Finno is an excellent gift giver. He's such a passionate and thoughtful person, he has so many virtues, all fall short beside him; an exemplar among the elves, truly."

Elwing puts her hand out, and there's a moment where Maglor looks confused, and then her bird flies by and perches there for a moment. "Oh wow," Maglor murmurs and peers at it.

"It is majestic, mother," Elrond tells her. "What a good present. It is suitably queenly, it seems like just what someone should give you."

"Yes," Maglor says distantly, as he eyes the bird, interested. "It is appropriate in that it matches your magnificence."

Earendil goes back to eating breakfast. He has seen her bird many times; it's great, but he is hungry.

There is some bread and some cheese too, as well as fruit and yoghourt. There is an omelet that is very soft [à la Poulard] along side some fried potatoes, and meats. He gets Maglor to try it, who says it's okay.

Maglor goes to his mother and says they are leaving, and then after they all rest for a moment after eating, they pack up and prepare to head out. Re the harps, Maglor brings some to the door of his music building and lays a big blanket over the top of them, and tells his servants to bring these to new Rivendell for him at some point.

Then they all get on horses and get going.

Elwing becomes a bird, and then she sits on his one shoulder while her falcon rides on Elrond's shoulder [she told the falcon about him, so it knows him in that sense.]

When they get close to new Rivendell, and can see it, Maglor says, "Finally, back at last."

"But that's your real house," Elwing says to him. Still as a bird. "Your music room."

Maglor laughs. "My dear, I haven't been there for literally forever. I was there in the mists of time. I was so young then. Besides, 'home' is just a concept, it just means 'where you feel you belong.' "

[Elwing later tells him that she asked Elrond with osanwe if it could be her home too, in that sense, not in the 'she has a house there' sense, and he said it already was.]

As they enter the town, Gil-Galad comes out to greet them, and helps Elrond down from his horse, looking surprised at the falcon that's chilling on his cloak. And Glorfindel is there too in a crazy outfit, and picks Maglor right up off his horse, and carries him back inside, as Maglor lays against his chest.

"Did you miss me?" Glorfindel asks him, teasing.

"Only once in a while," Maglor says in kind, and they spar verbally for a while, which is funny to watch, because as it happens Maglor is literally being held like a child by him.

And then inside, Glorfindel puts him down on his daybed, and strokes his hair with a big hand, and Maglor doesn't even protest it [ie that other people are there and can see this.]

The rest of them follow suit, just out of habit, and Elrond lays down on the couch and falls asleep almost immediately. He doesn't want to interrupt Glorfindel's romantic tete-a-tete with Maglor, so he tells them with osanwe he's going to his house and they say okay.

Back at home, he walks in through his front door and feels the same way Maglor described before – glad to be home, where he can relax and do whatever he wants. Elwing turns into a lady again, and tells him, "We can have our own tete-a-tete. But I'd rather ours be really sexy. He and Maglor are pretty boring, in that way. We're way more hot."

Earendil laughs and kisses her, and she kisses back, and smiles, and he thinks he's never seen a prettier lady. Who's also his best friend, and who he loves, too.

They make love, and Elwing gives them a bath afterwards magically, and then they get into the hammock and take a nap. It's simply heavenly.

Later they wake up and hang out for a little while in peaceable aimless enjoyment, and then get an invite from a page re Finno's party. So they dress later and walk over together. Everyone is there, and yes, already drinking. The elves can really pound grape.

Fingon is dressed nice and fancy, as is Nelyo. Lots of elves are playing games outside, and there is even a special performance of dancing [to Maglor's music, of course] that some of the elves watch. Maglor is totally unaffected by his music, but everyone else is.

He is there with Glorfindel, who is busy playing chess with Nelyo. Finno is drinking while watching a bunch of elves play mintonette, and sometimes playing himself, too.

Elwing goes right over to Finno to talk to him, and he greets her with pleasure, and steps away from the players and the ball court to speak to her. It's nice to see her have friends. Earendil knows she has never had anyone except his mom and dad and he himself before, for most of the time. [And eventually her own mother, when she came back from Mandos.]

Earendil goes inside and sees that Elrond and also Gil-Galad [he's the ledgerman, he has a weird hat on that apparently proclaims this; it is most definitely not a crown or diadem] are playing some complex game with cones and lots of giant dice and pieces on a big table with a bunch of elves. It looks complicated, apparently the goal is to get four colored tall cones [they look like children's toys.]

He watches for a while, and then goes and says hello to Glorfindel and Nelyo, who are at their chess.

"Do you have any advice for me?" Glorfindel asks him. "He's beating me every time. It's super demoralizing. Nelyo is a chess genius, it's unfair. He's got some type of advantage, some smartness that I don't, so it's not an equal playing field."

Earendil smiles at his dramatics. He's just like Maglor, in a way.

Nelyo ignores him, and looks amused. He looks very regal in his fancy outfit and all his jewels. "Do you care for chess?" he asks Earendil.

"Not really," Earendil says honestly.

"What about máquè?" he continues.

"It's okay," Earendil begins to say, and Glorfindel cuts him off.

"I want to play you, it'll make me feel better about myself because I am going to win," he informs him.

Nelyo looks like he might laugh. "Very confident, you are. … I'll call for it to be brought in. Let's have a drink while we wait."

He gets up, orders it done to a servant, and then the two of them follow him back further into the house, where his study is. The food laid out for just him is in there like always, and they all get drinks. Thankfully, there's a wide selection, not just the 'wine, or even heavier wine' that the elves here mostly seem to drink.

"I have to know," Glorfindel asks Earendil, "did he get rid of any harps? Or was it a fruitless endeavor? I told him that I bet he wouldn't be able to do it."

Earendil smiles. "I don't know what he's going to do," he admits. "I didn't ask him. He just was looking at them, that I saw."

"I think this is going to be like Elrond and books," Nelyo says in his quiet voice. "I can't see any of them going anywhere. Like the Noldor and normal jewels. If Elrond's ever gotten rid of a book, I'd be shocked."

Next time at his 'lessons', with Maglor over at his house, he asks him how it's going, re his harp giveaway.

Maglor sighs excessively, and puts his drink down on the table, and lays back against the pillows on the couch. "It's definitely been a trial. I would rather do so many other unpleasant things, than this, I tell you. How can one measure something as special as harps? So many things to consider – "

Earendil settles in, mentally, for a long monologue, and he is not disappointed. It's weirdly satisfying to listen to, when someone is super passionate about something.

" – and which thing is most important?" Maglor says. "I mean of course there's who made it, who gave it me, why they gave it to me. And then what it's made out of, the look of it, how expensive it is in terms of materials. And then the sound quality of it, the type of harp it is. How could I balance all that? And don't suggest a spreadsheet. I'm not Erestor. If I ever see another accounting or organization or kingly paper again, it'll be too soon. I hate that stuff."

Yeah, Maglor isn't a book-y person. He's purely into art alone; feeling, expression, emotion, performance.

"Couldn't Caranthir make one?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor blinks, startled out of his soliloquy.

"Well, then there's the whole issue of 'who' to give the harps to, that's a bundle of problems," Maglor hedges.

"Couldn't he make one for that too? And then Nelyo could see what he thought of it?" he adds.

Maglor pauses, clearly running through any potential objection that would save him here, from a potential solution that involves his hated brothers [other than Nelyo and Amras half the time, and possibly Celegorm in mere 'second or half-a-second' increments, Elwing has said.]

" … I suppose," Maglor grits out unwillingly.

"I see him all the time at those parties, I could ask him for you," Earendil offers, and Maglor looks surprised.

"He doesn't annoy you?" he asks, boggling at someone not disliking his least talented brother.

"I'm not exactly smooth myself," Earendil says dryly, smiling. "I know what I'm like. He's awkward too."

Maglor looks like he's trying to do calculus in his head and can't figure it out. "How can you tolerate me so well, and not him?" Earendil continues.

But now Maglor grimaces. "Well. Let's just say my brother isn't a selfless hero, that's a good person. Or even a polite one … or even a bearable one."

"I'm not very good, and I am not selfless at all," Earendil informs him. "I only went on my mission because everyone said that was the point of my life, and Cirdan helped me learn, at the start. And because I wanted to see if I could find my parents. And yes, I wanted Elwing and boys to live in a safe, or safer, world. But it wasn't like it came out of nowhere or something."

It wasn't out of character, or a surprise, or what something truly sincere would be. … Like, you know, taking some random children during a war, then later realizing who they were and knowing you had an enormous bargaining chip, and keeping them anyway, and being good to them. Despite being a literal killer, and having tons of traumatic stuff happen to you.

"What you did was more selfless than me," he adds. "I wanted to get away from the city, and the elves. I was afraid I'd do something wrong with the babies. I felt like I couldn't breathe, I wanted to be away from the buildings and walls and elves. And that they all said I had to be a king. I wanted to play games with Elwing, not do whatever being a king was, or meant. I wanted to feel free, and I felt safe on the ocean. Even though all that did was hurt everybody else."

Maglor looks concerned and takes a breath to speak and Earendil interrupts him.

"And now I feel like a real idiot, you know?" he says. "I mean what did we think was going to happen, right? Doriath literally fell. And we thought we weren't going anywhere?! You guys must have been laughing like hell about how dumb we all were, and justifiably. I can't bear to even think about how stupid literally every decision we made was. And the fucking elves call us heroes. What the fuck?!"

He looks over at Maglor and cuts him off again as he tries to say something. "Don't say something nice. I don't think we deserve that. Has there ever even been a case as bad as ours, in terms of child abandoment, in history? I guess Elrond would know, cause he's so learned, what fucking irony is that, right. Even your father didn't do that. I mean yeah, he fucked you over, obviously. But he didn't leave you when you were so tiny … "

And suddenly he finds himself breathing heavier and realizes he's tearing up. There were so tiny.

He used to not be able to sleep on his ship, thinking about how little babies could be tortured. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He could barely eat half the time, due to feeling sick emotionally.

And now knowing Elrond, it's almost worse. To know what a great person he is, special and much more of a great king than Earendil could ever be. That's who he and Elwing left to die. Someone better than them.

Eventually he realizes he's crying, sobbing, and then everything hurts. Especially his stomach, but then it often has, from his emotional agony. And obviously he has a horrible headache from crying this intensely. It's just all unbearable sometimes.

And then he wakes up, and feels confused.

It's dark.

He's at home, he realizes slowly, but can't think fast. Oh, like when Maglor plays music, he thinks. Did he? He can't remember.

Then he realizes he's not just at home, but he's in his hammock, and Elwing is with him, sleeping; a comfortable weight against him. But it's like against something, not moving like a real hammock swings freely.

Then he notices Maglor, who is sitting a chair next to him, and realizes he's letting the hammock lean against him, so it's not swinging all the way to one side, and that his left hand is resting on Earendil's bare arm.

Is that magic, like the laying on of hands, he thinks. He wonders if Maglor's power is suffusing through him even more than usually due to his hand being on his bare skin like this; it feels like it at least.

He can barely see Maglor, because it's very dark in his bedroom right now, there are no lights at all, of any kind. But he knows it's him who's there. He can smell his very light colonge, and also just what he normally smells like as an elf. And he can sense and feel his aura, his energy, or soul. Whatever it's called.

Maglor is of course writing with his other hand, like he always is. 'Mm,' he says with osanwe, to get his attention without having to use any energy. He feels so tired.

He glances over at him and stops writing. 'Drink,' Maglor tells him, and presses a cup lightly to his lips, and he does swallow; it's water.

He feels weirdly thirsty, and drinks for a second. Then Maglor sets the cup down somewhere and turns back to him.

'Do you want to sleep more?' he asks.

'Mhmhm,' he says, and Maglor understands he means 'yes', he can tell. Everything feels so comfortable, and good, and he feels tired.

Maglor turns his chair a little and strokes his forehead with cool fingers, and it feels like being on pain-relief drugs, it's so good. He touches his scalp, too, and Earendil falls back asleep, in that cozy haze of pleasure. It's so hard to think, but he knows he can rest. He doesn't have to think. He can just relax now. It's safe.

The next time he wakes up, he feels much more alert, and very good. Better, physically. Maglor is still there, and Elwing is gone. Maglor makes him drink water, and broth, and washes his face himself, touching a cool damp cloth to his skin gently, dabbing it slowly, almost like he's a painter.

It feels very good to have someone clean your face for you, it turns out. It's very nice, to be taken care of.

He sends him to put the washcloth to dry on a line out the window, so he goes and does it, and uses the chamber pot in the washroom. Earendil sees himself in the mirror as he walks in; he's all red faced from the crying of course. He doesn't like to see himself in the mirror, to be honest. He just notices how he doesn't look like an elf, and is different. Yes he looks better, and he prefers how he looks, but it's just a reminder of how he's always been alone.

It isn't as painful as it used to be, looking in mirrors that is, but he still prefers to avoid it, out of habit.

When he comes out, Maglor makes him get into the bath and tells him that he'll sit in the other room during it. Earendil gives him a look.

"I feel like we're a little past that, but whatever you want is fine," he says. "Can't you wait till I get in and then sit next to the bathtub."

Maglor considers this, and then agress. It's one thing if it's some random elves; it's another if it's Maglor, to be close to them [his family] or see them up close, in private.

So he leaves for a moment, and then Earendil calls him back in, after he gets into the tub. It actually smells very nice, a very light scent of how wildflowers smell with light foam-bubbles; kind of like green plant stems, kind of like all different flowers, so not super sweet but not super astringent either.

The water feels very good, like it's taking the residual stress out of him, somehow. There is a big fluffy towel to lay your head on while you bathe, and he rests against it.

Maglor brings over some pillows from a sofa in the room and sets them beside the tub and sits there to keep him company. Which is nice, because he sometimes feels almost nervous about being alone. How stupid is that. How ironic is that ...

"Was that my worst one yet?" Earendil asks him, almost joking in a black humor type of way.

"No," Maglor says seriously, and he can feel himself tend towards smiling, if he had the energy [he doesn't have the energy.] Of course he says that. Maglor is never cruel to him. Even if the truth is actually cruel, and just.

"This must seem very obnoxious," he tells him. "And childish. Many people have had bad lives and didn't act like this, I am sure."

Maglor puts his hand on his bare arm. "I think you already know that I don't think that. You didn't see me, when Elrond first found me. I was so bad it definitely seemed to he and Glorfindel that I would never recover. I didn't even become conscious, that was the first problem. And then after that there were all the other problems. But I've never minded that – Elrond tried to heal me because he loves me. He wanted to help me feel better in whatever capacity that would be. We all want you to feel better, just like we all want Nelyo to feel better. When you feel sad, it's just an opportunity to show you that you are loved. Taking care of someone is no burden – especially since we're all royals at leisure. It's not like we have day jobs we're neglecting. I can't see myself doing something productive, like cooking."

Earendil almost smiles, to think of it. It is a crazy image.

"I think the chefs and sous chefs and everyone else in the kitchens would have an aneurysm, actually, if I showed up and said I wanted to try to cook," Maglor muses. "They'd probably send for Elrond and say I must be ill, to do such a thing."

"Do you think I'll ever feel different?" he asks him.

Maglor considers it. "I think this is a natural side effect of everything that's happened. Like how sometimes I like to fantasize about my father dying again – and then we all have a party celebrating his timely second demise."

He huffs out a breath in amusement. He wouldn't put it past a lot of people to do that, Maglor at the top of the list, of course.

"And then people would ask me to play – " Maglor adds, clearly about to launch into 'what music he'd perform at his father's second funeral/celebration of his death because so many people resent him'.

"I wish I could be a better man, for Elrond," he tells him. "I wish me and Elwing were like Finarfin or somebody boring. But instead, we're us. Elrond should be crying on me; instead, I'm crying on you. It's mixed up."

Maglor shrugs. "I think he'd want to know your real self, even if you want to change over time into feeling better. And Finarfin I don't think is anybody's first choice ... even of his children. Or of his father. Of course this is only my conjecture though. And I'm not exactly unbiased, as we know."

"It's so strange to think you lived back then, at the start of things," Earendil tells him. "And that's all just in history books now."

"I do find it funny that all that is seen as old history to some elves," Maglor muses. "As if it didn't create the current situation. But I am happy it's fallen out of use to call the non-Feanorean exiles kinslayers, as I truly don't think they should get the slur -- and I should know."

"What do you think about the elves that are going off to explore this new world, on the other side, I mean?" Earendil asks him.

On the west side of Aman, Noldor elves are building boats and going off sailing to see what's out there. Earendil was asked if he wanted to go, being the most famous sailor other than Cirdan, but he said no.

"I think they're wanting adventure and excitement, like the Noldor always do," Maglor says. "We are unfortunately often rather irrepressible, I think."

"Are you going to go?" Earendil asks him.

"They'll have to take my dead body to get me out of here," Maglor says frankly, making him smile. "I think Galadriel feels the same, that we are so tired after our lives. Of course we wouldn't say that in front of you, or Princess Elwing."

Elwing once told some people she prefers to be called 'princess' by them, so often she is called that. Of course others call her 'queen'. And Earendil usually just calls her by her name, or her titles.

"You just suffered in a different way; all suffering is the same," Earendil remarks.

Though honestly he does feel very lucky to have Tuor as his father, and not Feanor -- yuck. And not himself, as a father to Elrond; what a joke. Tuor and Maglor are much better fathers.

"Who are you going to give your harps to?" he asks Maglor, who then talks about politics for like forty minutes.

Basically, if he gives any to a non-Feanorean, then he's 'favoring' them over the other groups of elves, which is inherently political because he's a prince -- and Earendil knows he was high king, back when Nelyo was taken. So then he'll need to give an equal number of harps out to every elven group. And of course he can't offend the people he's already offended, like the Gondolin survivors, everyone from Doriath, and the people of Olwe at the shore.

" ... So I am thinking of only giving some to my people here, for that reason, and none to the Lindoners, who would probably find it an insult anyway -- who wants a harp dipped in blood when you can get a clean, normal, nice one?" Maglor concludes.

Earendil has a feeling that nobody cares about that if they could have a literal harp of Maglor's himself -- even literal blood would probably not dissuade anybody at this point. That's how crazy his fanbase is. And his fanbase is practically every elf. When concerts of his music happen, people literally sit on the ground everywhere, it's very crowded.

And the two kings [Finarfin and Fingolfin] nearby are literally obsessed with getting Maglor to personally play for them and their courts. Even the Doriath people want Maglor back to play for them continuously ... which is pretty wild. You'd think they'd be like 'no way, stay away, we hate you and your music too.' But they want him to go see them, so he and Elrond and Glorfindel go once in a while.

Unfortunately those two elf kings keep having their 'the elves are at peace together' festivals, but Maglor doesn't play then, he instead goes throughout the year on little trips to different places for longer periods of time, solely for the purpose of playing for the people in each elf-cultural-group.

A whole little party goes with Maglor, like Gil-Galad, Elrond and Glorfindel, so it's not like it's weird if Earendil tags along too, and then gets to see all the different groups of elves and their little settlements. [On certain trips, Finno and Nelyo come -- like to Fingolfin's court, of course.] Oddly, lots of the elven groups seem very, very different in many things: food, dress, behavior, buildings, art styles, and on.

In many places Gil-Galad eats with the ruler of the town, and the rest of them eat together, which is nice. He doesn't have to eat in front of random elves then. It often has felt awkward, to be the only person actually literally eating like he needs sustenance to live; the typical elves could probably subsist off of a little lettuce alone.

And this is safer too, because then Elrond and Maglor can really investigate the food first, and see if they think any of ingredients are things that weren't in middle Earth -- ie things that they might have an adverse reaction to, like Elrond did before.

Elrond complains to him at times that he and Maglor are arguing about 'who' should give out those harps – himself or Maglor. "He thinks his people will be mean to him, despite that being totally crazy," Elrond grouses lightly, one afternoon at home. Maglor is over at Nelyo's house, and everyone else is doing whatever they usually do.

He's over there a lot; Elrond has told him he helps with Nelyo's health, and plays for him to soothe him.

"Because of what happened before?" he asks him.

"No," Elrond dismisses. "Not for the stuff you'd assume. But because he kind of 'bespelled' them by playing and singing so they wouldn't follow him and Nelyo to their dooms."

"So he saved them, at the end, from further badness," Earendil questions, and Elrond nods. "That's good."

"But these are not regular elves," he elucidates. "These are the people of Nelyo and Maglor, these are diehard Feanoreans. Maglor thinks they will be angry with him, that they were left behind back then, and without the choice of following them or not."

" .. Won't they be grateful?" Earendil hazards, as a guess.

Elrond smiles, amused. "One can never be sure. The Feanoreans are an unusual bunch of elves."

Eventually he finds out that Maglor did do it himself, he handed out harps to certain of his people. Thankfully there is no need to hide this from the Lindoner elves, because they don't socialize with the Feanorean elves, despite being in the same town … for this many zillions of years.

Earendil cannot understand elves, he has realized over time.

Well, he does understand the 'odd' ones.

Elwing now talks to the people from Doriath who saved her, once in a while, she tells him later on. "They said they were sorry for how things were in Sirion," she says to him. "I am glad to be free of them. I don't like how elves look at us and see only blood they think is special. We are not just blood."

"I am glad too," he says seriously. Now there is no one that can get close to Elwing if she does not allow it; the elves have been all scared off long ago.

"They said I should be Queen, and depose that monster," Elwing tells him. She means Thingol, of course. "But I don't want to sit on a throne and pretend to be elf-y and pretend I care about what happens in their little world. It's not mine; it's theirs. I asked mother what she thought and she said I should do what I like, just like my brothers. So I'm not going to do it."

"Okay," Earendil agrees. "I can tell you, nobody is getting me near anything like that in Gondolin. I feel like somehow Glorfindel right now though can sense the lack of the wild outfits he could be designing for us, if we did try to act like rulers, and will be grumpy to be denied his artistic expression."

They both smile.

Glorfindel often scolds Maglor for 'wasting his genius' – that is, Glorfindel's genius at fashion, by always wearing plain, dull clothes.

Though he does get to see Maglor in other colors, finally, and not just in his own memories, or Elrond's. It's because he and Nelyo plan a surprise party for a big milestone birthday of Finno [the way the elves reckon it], and they invite Earendil, and the regular group to come of course.

Maglor lures Finno to Fingolfin's court by pretending he wants to look at some ancient music scores in the library without having to actually request they send them to him – which would be a bigger political issue obviously. So Finno goes with him, so now it's only a minor political thing.

Earendil and everyone else have already secretly come to Finarfin's and Fingolfin's courts for this, and are in the know. Maglor goes over through of the library, and Earendil follows him around just as something to do – also, he is happy for Finno to be honored by his beloved friends. In the library, Maglor asks for some of Fingolfin's and Finarfin's musicians to speak to him, and they do, privately. The library has little side rooms as well as books.

Elwing rides on his shoulder as a bird, causing elves to look at him with even odder looks than usuall, but that's okay. It doesn't bother him as much as it used to.

Elrond is also hiding in the library, a place Finno rarely ever goes, and everyone else is hiding in weird random places – many in Galadriel's personal rooms in her father's palace. Since it's no surprise to see her visit her father in his demesne, and she distracts Finno excessively, easily.

Finally everything is ready, and Finno walks in unknowingly with Maglor to his special birthday celebration. He is quite shocked to realize that it's all for him alone, [Miriel calls a birthday greeting to him when he walks in, which clues him in], and turns to Maglor before all of the elves, and demands, "Did you know about this?"

Nelyo comes to them as well, and Maglor says, "Of course, silly," and he and Nelyo take off their light indoor cloaks to reveal they are wearing robes in Finno's personal heraldry colors [instead of their own hues, or even Maglor's usual plain black.] "I even got dressed, see?"

Finno seems as shocked at Maglor's change from his typical black clothes as everyone else in the room. Some elves literally gasp.

For Maglor to doff his 'penitent' outfit [that he's worn forever] and for Nelyo not to wear his typical Feanorean princely garb is almost unbelievable. Earendil and Elwing observe all this from the sidelines, in a corner of the room, with Elrond beside them.

It's almost funny, how Finno alone is now the plainest dressed person at this gathering, [other than servants], because all have worn their best robes and jewels to honor him – even Maglor. It's neat to see him like this, like how he was [a little bit, a poor approximation] before the first two trees died.

Then the party starts in earnest and there are drinks everywhere, as well as food, and music, too. Except that it's Maglor's music, he can tell – he wrote it, other elves are just performing it here. Elves from new Rivendell dance to it in choreography, in costumes [often music and dance at home seems inspired by the many now lost to the elves cultures of middle Earth], as do many other elves just do as they wish [some dance in their own styles.]

Elrond has servants of his own, who came with them, and he has them go get himself and his parents food, talking with them first. Then he looks at it carefully, after talking with the page, and finally lets Elwing and Earendil have some. He got them a lot of different beverages and types of food.

Of course the array of comestibles are all in that old elven style of Aman, but hey, it's still food. In the distance Finno is opening presents that Maglor fetches for him from the giant table stacked with them.

That is, not letting a servant do that work.

He can imagine the elves will be pleased by this, to see the 'higher' bloodline children honor Finno. Despite all knowing about their weird triad co-dependent thing with Nelyo, elves still like superficial, performative displays, Earendil thinks.

Elrond drinks wine like how the elves do, and eats with Earendil while Elwing as a bird vaporizes-as-consumption food when no elves seem to be watching.

"I said my present to him was from us three," Elrond tells him and Elwing. "It's some books I wrote myself after I interviewed many, many elves about Fingon and what they thought about him. I thought it would be a nice keepsake for him."

When Finno gets to Elrond's present, Maglor calls Elrond up to them, so he can see Finno open it, and explain what it is. Appropriately, Finno looks absolutely gobsmacked at how thoughtful it is.

Amusingly, Finno is able to improve his spare, spartan look by putting on the ridiculous amount of jewels he gets from Feanor and other jewel/jewelry-making elves as he opens the boxes of them up. [Feanor's are by far the most incredible, Earendil can tell, even from as far away as he is in the giant ball room.] Pretty soon Finno looks even more decorated than Finwe and Finarfin, in terms of being loaded down with amazing, wearable gems.

After a while, Elrond comes back to them. He is dressed like all the rest of the elves, in bright colors and wearing cartload of jewels. The colors he has on are green and white, which Earendil can't quite figure out. Not that he's up on heraldry colors of different elves and elven groups, obviously.

"He seemed like he liked my present," Elrond tells them, smiling, and they tell him 'good'. "How're the victuals?" he asks Earendil.

He shrugs. It's okay, but the food at home is startlingly good. So this isn't impressive comparatively. Elrond tries some with them. There's flamiche, duck confit, butter mushroom tarts, lamb, ficelle picarde, and fruit custard tarts. And other things.

"These are an old favorite of Finno's, I think," Elrond tells them, and points out little buns on their plates. "They taste like orange inside, called nonnettes. And these things here are kaletez, flat pancakes with meat and other things inside, they're another old favorite of his."

They all try them together. Elwing is still a bird, but that doesn't prevent her from magically consuming foodstuffs.

Elrond tells them out loud, "Very nice."

Then in osanwe he adds, 'In case anyone's listening. I mean, this food is okay, but not anything I'd order on purpose. I prefer my chefs. Well, Maglor's and Nelyo's, really, of course. So many elves call them all 'mine' that I get in the habit of using that parlance.'

'Yes, they think that way,' Elwing suddenly adds. 'That your real father needs you now, wishing to rest, and it is you they serve instead. And the ruined one – they think he is too tired to be in charge.'

Maglor and Nelyo, he knows she means. She and Earendil often refer to Maglor as 'Elrond's real father' when speaking to each other. They have no pretensions like the rest of the elves apparently do.

The party goes into the night of course. Elrond at times goes off and talks to people, and people come to talk Earendil. Eärwen and Anairë don't come over to talk to him and Elwing like they often do now because one is Fingon's queen mom, and the other is her best friend and another queen. So Elwing stays as a bird unless Galadriel says hi for a moment.

Maglor of course and everyone else is all focused on Finno, so he and Elwing just stay as wallflowers.

Eventually, as it gets later at night, [the elves are carousing now, doing sports and dancing and singing and drinking], Elrond comes back to them and says, "I am going to stay over here at the palace with everyone. Do you want to stay with me or go home?"

"Home," Earendil says.

"You know, Nerdanel's house is closer to here than home is," Elrond points out. "You two could easily go there and stay."

"But he and she are here," Elwing says. Feanor is here too. He gave Finno an incredible set of jewels and other items he made himself, and Nerdanel gave him a bunch of special statues.

"I already asked her," Elrond explains. "I thought you might want to, and mentioned it. She said it was fine, and that Maglor of course wouldn't care if you wanted to stay in his building, but you could stay in the main house if you want too."

They agree, and leave. Earendil tires of socializing with elves easily, and Elwing does too. So they go out alone on a horse in the dark, with their goal being Maglor's music building. It's nice and peaceful to be outside now, instead of inside warm rooms that are packed with elves and light and noise [conversation, games, gaiety, music.] When they get to Nerdanel's house, a servant is waiting for them outside with a lamp and waves to them.

Earendil leaves his horse with this page, who tells him that 'Lord Elrond had spoken to him from afar with magic, to say you were coming and that the Lady Nerdanel had wished you to stay in her house.'

The elf asks him if they want anything, but he demurs. He goes over into Maglor's music building and then upstairs. His hammock is still there, over the bed. He knows Maglor won't mind them coming to stay in his special complex, regardless of Nerdanel's opinion. After all, the hammock kind of is special, that he did that for him, out of his own desire to.

They get ready for bed [those pyjamas of Nelyo's are still there, and he finds them and puts them on], and get into the hammock, and pull in sheets and blankets, inside it. Elwing turns into a lady [with her own pyjamas on] and they rest together.

The next morning, they get up, and Elwing tells him, "There's a note in here, an elf left it."

So they go search for it. The note is in Quenya, Feanorean-style, and just asks them if they want breakfast, and if they do, what do they want.

"Don't tell me what it says," Elwing immediately cautions him. "I want to see if I can figure any of it out for practice."

Her Quenya is still pretty bad … not that Earendil's penmenship or learning of it is great. Gondolin had it's own dialect of Sindarin. Ondolindë, to wit. Of course he was raised with it, but he was a boy when the city fell. And then eveyrone spoke Sindarin all the time in Sirion.

Just recently he found out he'd forgotten his extra Quenya name, because everyone called him Earendil so often as a boy. He'd casually mentioned to Idril how he and Elwing had no other names, like the Noldor elves do, and she'd told him his other one: Ardamírë. [In Sindarin he's just Gaerdil, but no one has ever called him that, regardless, for some reason.]

They eat breakfast. Pages bring the trays to Maglor's music building [when they asked him what he wanted, he said just whatever is usual and typical that everyone has], and Earendil carries them in himself – there's tea, juice, warm drinking chocolate [this is something Maglor has a lot now, he knows], a big stack of soft creamy omelets with meat and vegetables and cheeses, slices of fresh gugelhupf cake and jams to eat it with.

Everybody is still gone, not back yet from Finno's surprise party.

After he tells Elwing about the name thing, she says, "We must give Elrond other names, and me, too. Let's make a list. Brainstorm."

So they get out some paper and a pen and try to be creative. Of course some people who only know Quenya often call Elrond 'Elrondaro', like Feanor and Miriel and Finarfin, as that just seems to be a natural potential 'Quenya-ization' of his name.

[There are lots of names that end in -aro, Earendil has noticed, like Feanaro himself, and Gil-Galad [Artanaro], and also even Aicanáro, who is Aegnor, a person Earendil has only recently heard about. He doesn't know of a lot of elves, but slowly he's learning a few of their names – and no, the multiple names and multiple languages don't help, either.]

"It seems like we should go with 'el' at the end," Elwing muses. "So many have that. Nerdanel, Miriel, Altáriel."

"But you are not totally from their world," Earendil notes. "Do you want your name to totally follow their customs?"

Elwing considers this as they both lay on the floor in the back room on pillows, looking out through the big open glass wall at the waterfalls. "I don't know. I really don't want it to be like anybody's name that I don't like."

He nods.

So it can't end in a hell of a lot of endings: -en, -an, -ol, -or, -we, and probably more that he's not thinking of right now.

"I want to match you," Elwing tells him. "So it has to start with 'A' like yours does, and Elrond's has to match, with 'A' too, since we all have 'E' names now. My name is star-foam, and Elrond's is star-dome. So 'el' has to be there for 'star'. So fallë for foam, telumë for dome. I could be, and Elrond could be. Fallë-el for me, and Telumë-el for Elrond."

"Where are the 'A's? Maybe they don't fit," Earendil suggests.

"I could use 'arra'," Elwing jokes. "It means awkward."

"But Elrond isn't, it's me who is, really," Earendil says, and she shrugs. He can't say she isn't, in the sense that the elves obviously find her even stranger than they find him. And they all seem to find Earendil to be quite odd. "What about 'an-'? It just means 'more-er', like anything but just more intense in whatever you're saying. Isn't that us? 'More' in every way?"

"Yes, I like that," Elwing agrees. "But let's make it sound nicer. So Anfallël for me, and Aneltelu for Elrond."

After the group eventually returns on horseback to new Rivendell from Finno's party, [it's still the day after], they all look incredibly hungover. Only Elrond and Nelyo look alive.

Earendil first thinks to go tell Elrond the name ideas, but then realizes that both he and Elwing are not exactly Quenya experts. So he talks to Maglor with osanwe, who looks like death warmed over.

[Glorfindel looks like he might be dead.]

After he explains all to Maglor [still in his silver and blue fancy raiment with loads of jewels], he just says back mentally, 'Good idea. I like it. Unrelatedly, I don't want to ever drink again. Ever. If you see it happen, slap the glass out of my hand and tell me you're being a hero.'

Earendil smiles to himself.

The elves are often quite melodramatic during and after drinking. After Elrond is done checking on all the elves, who seem to still have katzenjammers [Maglor once told him this was the slang for it], then Earendil asks if he can speak to Elrond, and he takes him down a bit away into his other rooms. And then Earendil has to tell him. To his face.

… It's a lot harder than it sounds.

Finally he says, "I forgot my other Quenya name, then mother told me it. And then we – me and Elwing – started thinking about what yours would be, and hers. Maybe Anfallël for her, and Aneltelu for you. She wanted the 'a's in there to match mine, and 'el' for you two to match your real names, and we liked how 'an' is about 'moreness'; mine is –"

"I know yours," Elrond tells him.

" … Oh," he says quietly. It's always weird when he realizes how much Elrond knows. He is so learned he probably knows tons of stuff about both of their childhoods that they [Elwing and him] don't even know.

"I like those new ones," Elrond adds. "What about the other one?"

Huh? "For Elros?" he asks hesitantly.

Elrond looks surprised. "No. For me."

Earendil blinks. … What? he thinks.

"Everyone gets two names in Quenya," Elrond says. "A mother name and a father name."

"Oh … yeah, I know," he says, embarrassed. He did know that. But they got so excited they kinda forgot it for a second. "We didn't get that far."

It's easy to forget – he kind of thinks of those many names as little sets that go together, like Maglor is often called Kanafinwe Makalaure, or he's called Maglor Feanorean. Often two words – and Elrond, he knows, is called 'Elrond Peredhel'. Which is always hard to hear, because obviously he could have chosen/choose to be called Elrond Earendillion. … And does not.

"I am pleased that we three match, with the 'A's," Elrond tells him, and he breathes a silent sigh of relief.

Elrond is still very reserved. He never knows what he's going to say.

"Well, I should leave you to rest," Earendil says. "Everyone seems so exhausted and wiped out."

Elrond laughs. "Yes, they got a little too into the celebration. But I am happy that Finno enjoyed it."

After they're done talking, he creeps out past all the elves resting in their reverie [it looks so creepy to see, honestly; only his mother doesn't look super weird doing it, or Elwing when she rarely chooses to do it] and goes back to his house to tell Elwing how it went.

When he gets inside, she's already looking up words. "I don't want another name," Elwing tells him. "Since one is supposed to be father-given. One is enough for me, then. I hate my father. But Elrond wants two, so he should have two. When I asked Maglor if he hated us still, he said he didn't. And I could tell he wasn't lying, that he spoke what he believes to be the truth. What about 'Achelon'? Cause the middle is the old word for waterfall?"

"He does like those," Earendil agrees. "But what if the end was 'mírë' instead of the plain 'guy name' ending. Cause it's … "

"Yes," she agrees, looking emotional.

Because it means treausre, jewel, beautiful special thing. He has to pause too, and breathe deeply. And Earendil's own extra Quenya name ends in those same letters. So they'd match twiceover.

It's almost funny, he thinks, that he loves the sea and Elrond loves the vertical, falling water. It's almost the same thing, but not. The ocean is more horizontal.

"I didn't want to use 'lanthir' in case he wouldn't like that it's about where I'm from," Elwing explains, and he nods.

Maybe Elrond's love of waterfalls has some link to her, he wonders, from Dior choosing that place to live with Nimloth, and their children. Interesting again how Luthien and Beren went to Tol Galen to live, and then Dior went to Lanthir Lamath, none living in Doriath with Melian and Thingol.

It makes Earendil think Elrond's beautiful city that's half in nature, and half more Noldor is a result of his blood on both sides [since Earendil doesn't like being cooped up on land in cities with elves, and prefers the sea.]

After a long amount of hours, he goes and checks on the elves again, and finds them mostly looking more lively, just lazy.

When he comes in at first though, Maglor [who looks a little bedraggled, and is on his daybed], tells him that, "Glorfindel is down off jumping into a lake, he thinks it will make him feel better – I bet him it won't. We'll see who's right. Nelyo and Finno are recovering in their house. Elrond is resting."

"How was the party?" Earendil asks him, sitting down near him.

Maglor makes a facial gesture of insouciance, and says, "I think it went well. Finno seemed to like it. I thought the music was okay. It was weird to hear my own music being played. I don't know if I like hearing it from the hands of others."

"But it's so lovely," Earendil argues.

Maglor peers at him. "It's odd."

He is one of the only people who is flippant, who is honest, and who jokes, with him and Elwing, despite their fame. Earendil doesn't say anything about Maglor's new togs, not wanting to make him self-conscious about finally wearing something other than a black simple robe after about a literal million years.

"Elrond said me and Elwing could stay over in your music room," Earendil tells him. "So we did."

Maglor looks interested. "How was it? How were the servants?"

Earendil shrugs. "It was fine. And they were normal."

"Did you play any harps, since I wasn't there correcting everyone?" Maglor asks him, smiling.

"No, we didn't," Earendil laughs. "Thankfully the servants didn't try to act like we're you guys. I don't think I could tolerate very much 'eating while elves stand around as pages', especially without you there."

"Yes, that must seem odd for you," Maglor muses. "Well, in the future we can have mother and father come to my music building and eat with us there. Then it will be more comfortable."

Yeah, comfortable for him. Specifically.

Maglor doesn't mind servants, he knows. He may have before, when he was 'recovering from being a kinslayer and then being kinda dead', but not now.

How dear Maglor is, he thinks. How funny to think he was so scared of Maglor hurting the little children when he was on his ship. And now he understands that his children would have been worse off with their literal, actual blood father and Elwing. How lucky they are.

Out of all the people in the whole world of the elves, the person that found and rescued his kids was one of the best ones, despite his murder-y track record at that point.

Earendil leans over and hugs him. It's extra easy because he is tall, and Maglor is literally very small compared to him. He is far from the dangeorus, scary evil [musical] genius that Earendil had worried about – he is a little person, closer to looking like Elwing in a way than to someone big and strong. And he is so thin, still, and too small in the first place for that.

He smells like perfume scents, just very light, when he smells his hair. And then he lets him go.

Maglor gives him a confused look, when he pulls back; it all only took a second, but it's just so good feeling to be close to someone who loves you. And that you love.

"I just like you," Earendil tells him, and smiles as Maglor tells him that he musn't say that because he's a 'kinslayer and also et cetera'. That last bit must mean about how he took/rescued the children.

"Well I'm a disaster," he adds frankly. "But you always seem like you like me. Right?"

It's a hard thing to say out loud, but it's easy to feel when Maglor is helping him sleep or sitting with him and Elwing, and brushing their hair as they go to rest [it feels amazing.]

Maglor looks appalled. "Of course I love you child, both of you," he insists to him, and Earendil knows he means Elwing with those words, not Elrond. [He's a given, in his own category; not just a child, but a favorite son.]

"I wish you could have come over here to Aman faster," Earendil admits to him.

Maglor puts a hand on top of his – it's said that his hands are very strong [due to harping], though he doesn't know, obviously. His hands are really little compared to Earendil's broad frame of strength, where even his arms and hands are large.

"You could have helped us get ready to meet Elrond," he continues. "I mean, I'm sure we would have fucked it up regardless. But still."

Also, he could have hung out with them. Maybe he would have even come with him on his ship, since the oath was gone then, cause he was so lonely and sad then. But Maglor perhaps could not do that, he thinks, due to the silmaril being still technically his, even without any oath. Like as in, it's just rude that Earendil still had it, after everything.

"Will you come with me on my boat?" he asks him. There's no stone anymore, so it's safe.

Maglor looks shocked. "Of course, if you wish it. But I hope you're not thinking I know how to harpoon sea creatures, or am able to help if a giant squid puts it's long arms around the ship. I was on a boat literally only twice, in terms of important journeys. And both times I did nothing nautical at all. … As everyone knows," he adds, bitter, and looks away.

"I don't think there will be any giant squid, unless you ask Elwing to inquire with them on if they want to come say hi," Earendil points out, feeling pleased. It will be so fun to have him onboard.

Over time, his ship has become a place of no longer only grief and desapir but fun and enjoyment, like when Gil-Galad and Elrond come.

"When do you want to go?" Maglor asks him. "Who else shall come?"

"I guess just us," Earendil shrugs. "We can go anytime. Elrond hates boats. One time he read the entire day as Gil-Galad helped me sail. It was pretty funny, but I didn't laugh cause I didn't want to offend him."

Maglor looks like he might laugh right now, actually.

"He does like his books," he agrees.

And so they plan to go, and tell Elrond, who says 'have fun', unconcernedly, and also does not offer/ask to go. Glorfindel actually has a sporting competition in a few days, where he himself gets to enter in and try because the other people in it are super huge Feanorean warriors, so it's not seen as unfair. Also, they said they wanted to go up against him, as he is their close friend after all this time.

Glorfindel insists they must be gone during the time of the sporting event because 'I need to know nobody's watching me and being critical', to which Maglor responded 'When have I ever been critical?'

Then they argued about it for like an hour while Earendil ate lunch and watched them go at it. [It was very funny.]

Thankfully Maglor doesn't take servants with them, so it's just the two of them, riding out to the shore. [He brings a harp with him, 'just in case' he says, that Earendil carries for him on horseback because honestly it looks heavy, and Maglor looks so slight.] Elves look at them when they get to the docks, of course, as they always do. Blessedly none ask him why he's got Maglor with him.

It's so long a story, and so painful; he hates when the elves ask about it.

He helps Maglor onto the ship, and shows him it. He trails after him, looking at everything: the masts, the bow, the supplies stores, the quarters, the deck. It's a nice day for it, mild out in every way – in the wind, the temperature, the sun.

"Well, what do you think," he asks him.

Maglor looks like he's considering it. "It's much bigger than I thought it'd be."

"Really?" Earendil says, surprised.

"I guess I imagined it as a magical little dinghy that floated; almost like that made all your feats of fighting monsters even more amazing," Maglor admits. "But really, a little sailboat would have great maneuverability in terms of a fight. Agile, and all that."

Earendil takes his hand, and pulls him after him to one of the masts. "No," he says, and smiles. "It's a real ship. I have to rebuild it and repair it, and all that too. But here," he says, and points up.

There's only sails of course, and the mast. Maglor looks up too.

"I want to ask your forgiveness, here," Earendil tells him; Maglor looks confused. "This is where I kind of nailed the thing up in a little bag, so I could go down into my cabin and be in the dark, and rest. Well, not really forgiveness. I guess like mercy. Or absolution." Maglor seems shocked, but then he often does when anyone doesn't pretend that Elwing and Earendil are heroes; for the elves it's practically a thriving cottage industry. "I am sorry I hurt you by having it. And Nelyo, too. I tell you, I will be no thief again. Or desert everyone."

They're still holding hands.

Maglor embraces him, looking emotional, and tells him, into his shirt, "You mustn't talk like that. Think of what people would say. You didn't do anything wrong."

"People just means 'elves'," Earendil corrects, and hugs him back. It's funny how he seems so big a presence when Earendil is laying down; but when standing, Maglor seems small. "And I don't care about the elves, or what they think. We, and Elwing and Elrond all know the truth. I don't like how we all pretend that you didn't suffer too, like we did, just in a different way. And don't say you deserved it."

Maglor has said that before, if someone speaks of how he's suffered so grotesquely.

"Will you accept my apology?" Earendil asks him, and runs his hand through Maglor's short dark hair, for a change. It feels nice; weird, cause it's elven, but nice, to feel so connected and accepted.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Maglor insists, from where he is with his cheek against Earendil's chest.

"But if I did, would you?" he says, and Maglor finally says 'yes', quietly.

He smiles unseen, above his head. It has long troubled him, seeing how Maglor looked so horrific before the remaking; and now to have his forgiveness at the scene of the crime, as it were, feels good. And yet even then he was kind to him, and wanted Elrond to see and know his blood people, the people who left him and abandoned him to death.

"Thank you," Earendil says seriously, releasing him from his arms. "Now, we can sail. I asked Elwing if she can talk to the sea creatures and see who wants to say hi today. I thought it might be fun."

Maglor looks very emotional, sensitive still, an unusual look for him, so he adds, "But you must see how we leave the dock first. I have to take the ropes off as the first thing, so watch."

And he goes and does it.

By the time he has them out in the water, Maglor looks more composed. Earendil has noticed how much the Noldor like their stiff upper lip, and doesn't want to make him feel embarrassed.

He asks Elwing in his head if she's there and out loud she responds, and appears at once as a lady, saying, "Here I am. Some of the animals said they would visit the surface for us. Are you sure you don't want to go down with me in a giant glass jar so you can breathe?" she asks Maglor.

Maglor blinks at this. " … I'm sure," he says, mildly. "I don't think I'd do well as an adventurer. We all have Celegorm for that, and Earendil if he feels like it."

So they see all sorts of different sea creatures. Whales, dolphins jumping, majestic sharks, squid, stingrays and jellyfish.

Earendil doesn't keep them out too long, not wanting Maglor's first time on his ship to be too tiring – he still seems to get really tired really fast, and Glorfindel at times carries him around, or he'll retire to rest/reverie when regular elves would be fine, comparatively.

When they get back to the docks, and start the ride home, Maglor tells him, sounding fond, "You tan like Elrond does."

Elwing decided to go down under the ocean and talk to some creatures that 'seem like sea monsters but are friendly, like me'. Maglor of course then had to give her a whole lecture on how no one thinks she's that, they all think she's a pretty magical special lady.

Earendil knows she feels like he does – it never gets old, to be told you're worthwhile, and people like you, and you're accepted and cherished for all your little facets.

"Not anymore," Earendil tells him, pleased. "Elrond's told me his inventors have made him a new and improved unguent that stops his skin from tanning."

"Have you tried it?" Maglor asks. It's so nice to be out in nature, and not be near the elves of the docks and the shore. The ride home is beautiful and peaceful.

"No, it's all slimy, it feels weird," he admits, and Maglor laughs gently. They ride pretty slowly, but that's okay. They'll make it back to new Rivendell by nightfall.

"Now I want to try it, and see if I think it's gross," Maglor says, amused. "I think they, the boys, always felt sorry for me, that I had to be a bland, boring elf. I couldn't float, or do anything interesting most of the time. I couldn't change reality, or have visions, or what have you. I kind of felt sorry for myself."

How lovely, he thinks, to know that the boys felt good in their differentness so young, instead of isolated and weird, like he and Elwing did.

"Well, doesn't Elwing say you could improve in magic, if you study?" Earendil reminds him.

Maglor tosses his head and sighs theatrically. Not like an elf at all. It's pretty adorable. "I'll never get good at it. It took me this long to be good at music. I can't start a new thing, this late. I'm old! I'm too set in my ways."

"You never know," Earendil says easily.

"I do know," Maglor insists.

"I feel like if Glorfindel bet you couldn't do it, you'd immediately do it somehow," he points out.

"Hmm, well … " Maglor hedges. "Let's hope he doesn't. I'd hate to have to do all that work."

Eventually they get home, and Glorfindel is waiting for them, and tells them he did well in the games but didn't win many – and that the elves are saying he let others win, but that that's not actually true.

Earendil bids them good night, and Glorfindel carries Maglor away, and Earendil goes off to his house. Out there, inside he updates Elwing on how he thought it all went. [She had already gotten back from her deep sea diving, the oarfish had a lot to say, she said.]

After he wakes up the next day, Earendil goes to Elrond and tells him about the idea of Achelmírë, the other Quenya name for him that they'd come up with.

He considers it. "I like it," he decides.

That's comforting, Earendil thinks. This is probably much easier if you do it when the kid is a baby, in terms of nerves/emotionalness.

It's just them, because Maglor is over with his brother and Finno at their house, and Glorfindel is too.

"I'm … " Earendil starts, and trails off. "I'm sorry for everything. But in this moment especially, I'm sorry this is always so awkward. You're everything me and Elwing aren't. Fancy, and elegant, and smart, and a real ruler. And I'm happy you are, but I never know what to say. What could I even say now, when it's so far too late?"

"Father," Elrond says, and he looks up at him. "Who says it's too late? I don't. Besides, this isn't some court of law, or the old Máhanaxar. How lovely to think it was wiped away in the remaking, for the Valar have power no longer. Anyway. It's just us. There is no one more on your side, and mother's, than me. Me and Maglor. And your parents, obviously. Also, I wanted to gossip with you about what you think on the rumor that Nienna and Ulmo are supposedly getting together."

Earendil just stares at him for a minute. Elrond's back in his normal, more casual robes, without all the finery now that he's in new Rivendell again.

That was really nice of him to say. And then the end part was just incomprehensible.

" … Them?" he asks, confused.

"Yes. I know, isn't it crazy?" Elrond asks him, looking very amused. "I do so love to gossip, seeing as I am always talked about – it's only fair. But thankfully I never hear about it directly, as my people here do not act like that. Regardless. How did you like the party?"

"It seemed nice, cause it was for Finno," Earendil opines. "Finally, a party with a purpose."

Elrond laughs. "Yes, those in Aman love their lavish jamborees. It's so funny to me, to see the ancient ones eating chocolates and talking about who said what, like they're children. Not that I thought they were anything but. But still."

Chapter Text

One afternoon when Maglor is over at his house for his usual lessons, he comes in, sits down on the couch where he always half lays on pillows, and says to Earendil, "I had the weirdest thing happen. Moryo went and said he was sorry to Angrod in an apparently quite detailed, long, serious letter. And in person, he also apologized to me. Nelyo and I have been shocked by this – but then I just realized, it has to be the influence of someone holy on him. Am I right?"

Elves often call Earendil holy or 'The Blessed', or 'The Mariner'. He did not pick any of these epithets. He doesn't mind it coming from Maglor, though, because he always sounds like he's teasing him when he says it.

"I told him he should think about how he could say what he wanted, cause he didn't think anyone would listen to him talk," Earendil says.

"I knew it," Maglor says enthusiastically, looking vindicated.

"He brought it up," he points out, and Maglor nods, still pleased with being right. "I was worried, when the world was remade, that you would go live with your family."

Maglor scoffs and waves a hand.

"Those people aren't my family. Elrond is my family," he says airily. "And you two, as well. Despite what the books of the elves may say."

"Do you ever get annoyed when they mention you in those books? Like how they wrote it, the wording?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor looks intrigued, and amused.

"Well, I haven't really read the parts about me; I know them already, because unfortunately I was there," he explains. "But the parts about you – I don't know if you … will enjoy reading it, the famous accounts."

"I already have," Earendil tells him, feeling upset about it all over again. "I don't like anything they wrote about me and Elwing. I feel such rage about it. And even the little details make me angry. Like when they say Elwing came to me with the – it – they say her 'hair was on my face' and that she was asleep. None of that is right! None of the stuff written about us. Who is even reporting this, and how? It was only us two there in my cabin. And the same for when I landed here for the first time in Aman, and Elwing came too, with me. And so many other things."

Maglor nods, now understanding.

"That's one reason I haven't read any of these modern histories," Maglor says. "I know if I read anything I don't like about Nelyo, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to control myself. It's fine with me if people talk … I was going to say 'poorly about me', but really it's more like 'accurately' I think. But Nelyo … I just can't take anyone saying anything at all about him."

"He seems to feel well recently, yes?" Earendil asks him, and Maglor brightens up from his sad moment, and tells him how his brother is doing [he's doing well, and Earendil knows it makes Maglor very happy.]

Also, how funny is it that Maglor calls these ancient history books 'modern', he thinks. Of course to Maglor, they are, since he was alive for almost all of the past.

"I can't believe Finno's father was bright enough to let his party be a surprise and not call in the other children. Oh, what a horror show that would have been," Maglor says with fervor, and he agrees. "Truly Nelyo spoke well, when he said Fingolfin was great."

'Not the least wise', Nelyo said about him, Earendil remembers reading. That's what is written down … did Nelyo really say it like that? The author of that history book has a very overt anti-Feanorean bias. He doesn't ask. Thinking back on that time would only upset everyone involved.

"I think I'd have a stroke, if everyone was there," Earendil jokes, and Maglor smiles. No one wants to see Turgon and Aredhel. Or Thingol, Finwe, Melian and Feanor, for that matter.

"I was happy my father behaved himself," Maglor muses, looking pleased. "And he gave Finno good presents, too. It reflected well upon him."

"What did you give him?" Earendil asks. He was rather far off from the main spectacle of all the royals clustered around Finno as he opened his presents.

Maglor smiles. "Endless boxes inside each other. And then in the smallest one, just a small written note with a little tiny gummy candy he likes. Also, I told him, I said before them all, that I have written some music that celebrates his greatness – except that I know he's too humble and pure to want elves to hear songs about him. I didn't write any back then, because Finno asked me not to, despite everyone telling me I simply had to. For obvious reasons. So I said that I will only play them for him alone, and no other being will ever hear these songs. Now everyone can stop telling me I should write stuff for him."

" … Was that the most unique present?" he asks, and Maglor nods, looking very self-satisfied. Yeah, he had a feeling it would be.

"Well, Elrond's was excellent," Maglor says, looking almost proud.

It is true, that Elrond is very, very clever, in some part due to Maglor's parenting of him, he thinks.

"So now is everyone going to have big surprise parties?" Earendil wonders.

Maglor shrugs, smug. "I wouldn't be surprised. Who wouldn't want to imitate something Finno was involved in. He's practically flawless."

"What else did Finno get as presents?" Earendil asks, and Maglor tells him. Rare colognes, lots of art pieces [in different mediums], illuminated manuscripts, rare fine animals, beautiful swords and archery sets, endless jewelry, he tells him – Maglor stops suddenly.

He looks concerned for some reason, but before he can ask why, he says, "I … almost; I think … I feel hungry."

Maglor says the last word like it's some confusing concept he hasn't come across before.

"Then let's call for something," Earendil says, and goes out the front door to call for a page to go get them some stuff. He walks back in and tells him, "You know, I have that cellar that the elves leave food for me in. We could look at that and see if you are interested in anything there."

Maglor seems to consider this. He puts out his hand to him. "C'mon," Earendil tells him. "It won't hurt to look."

So they go look.

At the very back [to the side] of the house, he takes Maglor with him down into the little cellar where the elves leave him food; it's so cold down here, and there's modern inventions as well helping that he has no interest in understanding, that the food does not spoil. He and Elwing eat it all the time, it's very convenient.

They look through what's there: beef stroganoff with mushrooms and noodles, spanish rice – Maglor though stops and says, "You know, I kind of want a soft obwarzanek."

"Let's ask for some," he agrees, and they go upstairs.

He tells the servants to get an array of them, and says it's for Maglor, because they love Maglor. And probably only tolerate having to deal with Earendil.

The pages bring it all right away, and Maglor does indeed try eating some of the soft bread. His bites in it are so small that it takes him forever to eat any of it, but that must be due to his swallowing troubles, Earendil thinks.

He demolishes a stack of waffles with fried chicken and honey while Maglor attempts to eat more than his usual two crumbs.

" … Okay, now I regret this," Maglor frowns, putting the rest of the bread back on a plate. He lays down on the sofa in a weird curled up shape, and Earendil gets worried.

"What's wrong," Earendil asks, coming to him and he thinking about putting a blanket over him, but doesn't. He's kind of hovers next to him, afraid to get too close and make him worse.

"Get Glorfindel," he says simply.

That is quite possibly the most code red thing he could have said, he thinks. Earendil gets some servant to go fetch Glorfindel, and then comes and stays with Maglor.

'Are you okay?' Earendil asks him with osanwe, nervous.

'I got cocky,' Maglor tells him mentally. 'I should have never eaten.'

Earendil sit silently on the floor next to the couch. 'Can I do anything?' he asks.

'Knock me out,' Maglor says mentally, to his dismay.

'What about one of Elrond's potions,' he suggests.

'Yes,' Maglor agrees. 'A blue one.'

He goes and gets it, and gives it to him, helping him drink so he doesn't have to move. And then Maglor is unconscious. Glorfindel comes in afterwards, and touches him gently, and holds him.

Due to the medicine, Maglor's eyes are shut as he lays there for a while, but then eventually later they are open a little. He must be in reverie now, Earendil thinks.

Glorfindel asks him to have a page get Elrond, and then he shows up after a little bit.

Earendil explains the situation to him, and Elrond nods, looking down at Maglor, who is still resting in his elven twilight [fake, as in 'not mortal style'] slumber.

'He often has to wait and rest after having anything,' Elrond explains with osanwe. 'Maybe he ate too normally instead of barely. It's a big adjustment, after so many years the other way.'

Glorfindel stays over and Earendil does not like how this all feels. It's Maglor who is the one who is always there, always comforting. Well, he's actually very witty and can talk very incisively, but he doesn't deploy it against his favorites.

Earendil reaches out to Elwing in his mind, and asks her to come, and she does, but stays invisible; no matter, he can sense her presence.

'Can you fix him?' he asks her, after he explains what happened.

'Hmm,' Elwing tells him with osanwe, still non-visible. 'I'd be afraid that I'd hurt him by accident. I've never used magic on an elf, the way Elrond would do it. Not that I really know how Elrond does it, to be honest.'

Not too much time passes, though, and Maglor wakes up. He is fine of course, but Glorfindel won't leave his side. It's unusual and also interesting to see Elrond treat Maglor like he's a little boy in these moments – but then he did have to heal him forever, he thinks. So they must have gotten used to things being the other way around for a long time.

He rarely sees Elrond do medical things, or act like a healer.

When Maglor feels better, Glorfindel carries him back to his rooms. Earendil can tell he really didn't feel well for another reason, too: he didn't even say anything droll when he woke up. Earendil goes back with them, in case they need somebody to do something helpful, like ask the servants to get Elrond some of his doctor supplies. That type of thing.

The two of them stay with Maglor constantly; Elrond sends Earendil to go explain that he'll be fine and also what happened to Nelyo, so he goes.

Finno becomes very concerned as he explains everything, after he lets him inside their house.

"Can't we help?" Finno insists to Earendil, who isn't sure what to say. Nelyo is silent.

"I can ask Elrond," he offers.

"Let's go to him," Nelyo rules, and they three go back over to Elrond's rooms. Maglor is resting in reverie still.

Finno gets another chair out for Nelyo, and he sits beside Kano's daybed, and says nothing; Fingon leans against the chair, looking down at Maglor too.

Caranthir shows up in new Rivendell at one point because Elrond invited him to speak about books, so Nelyo says he will go speak to him, and Finno goes with him.

Later they return and Nelyo explains that his younger brother 'understood' and is 'off in the library'. Maglor wakes up after a time, and says he feels better, but everyone coddles him and he appears to like it.

Earendil watches from the background. Elwing stays with him too, watching what's going on from her invisibleness.

Eventually Maglor does seem to feel better. He calls Earendil over to him, and how tiny he looks, beside Glorfindel, who's on his little bed with him. "I have learned my lesson," he tells him. "I am well, child. Come here," he says, and beckons to him.

He does. Maglor is tiny next to him, too. It's odd to realize how much smaller he is, because of so many reasons [initially he imagined him as some giant monster person, back when he was afraid for the children; and now when he plays for him, he always seems to be larger than life. And when he comforts him, he seems so as well. It must partially be his power, radiating off of him then, that makes Earendil feel like that.]

He sits on the edge of his daybed, and touches his short hair hesitantly. Maglor puts a hand out to him, so he takes it in his own. "I hope you weren't disturbed by all this," Maglor asks him.

Well, yeah. It was frightening, he thinks. Maglor is everyone's rock, the person who will help them with words and feelings.

"Of course it was scary," Elwing says, suddenly appearing beside him on the bed. "I didn't like that."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Maglor tells her, and she nods, acknowledging this, and then says, "I'm going to turn into a blanket."

"Alright," he agrees.

So she does, and hops through the air to lay on top of the covers that are over him.

"That is so cool," Glorfindel says frankly, looking at the blanket-that-is-her. "Can I touch you, or is it gross to?"

"It's not gross," Elwing reassures him, her voice coming from the duvet somehow. "You can. It's just a normal blanket. It's not like a 'blanket with guts in it'."

The next day, everything is back to normal. Maglor stays in his rooms, though, so Nelyo and Finno stay over with him as well. He and Elwing come and visit sometimes, not wanting to impinge on their family time.

At one point Gil-Galad comes over to visit him, admitting, "Everyone is busy watching Lindir. I didn't want to get in their way; Elrond says he is fine. I wanted to go to some events, but now I have no usual entourage -- do you want to come?"

He says okay.

They go to some performances together in new Rivendell: some of dance, some of theater, and some of Maglor's music as played by the musicians here. Gil-Galad is good company, and doesn't let the elves bother Earendil.

And then Maglor is really well again, as in not nervous any more about eating, and back to his usual haunts.

He often goes between being with Glorfindel and/or Elrond to being with Nelyo and Finno, and he visits Earendil sometimes. Maglor resumes giving him his lessons, at his house, after wryly promising he won't touch anything but plain soup.

They talk about some basic primer books that Earendil has been reading.

"You know, about these histories," Earendil asks. "Did everything happen like it says it did? What else is wrong, if so much about me and Elwing is ridiculous in some of them?"

Maglor hmmms.

"Well," he says slowly, "I think they misrepresent a lot of things. Like how badly Finwe was doing with his weird replacement family. I don't think he understood what he'd done until Feanor had moved out and basically refused to talk to him most of the time, after he was with my mother. Then Finwe tried in the extreme to act like it was only Feanor and us all who mattered, not his other children. But it was too late. Everyone had seen how he'd treated Feanor, and then of course his other children felt betrayed to see him suddenly throw them under a bus and ditch them, and anyway he'd always been pre-occupied with Feanor instead of any of them the whole time."

"So no one was happy," Earendil concludes, and Maglor nods.

"I don't know what the 'other' people thought about it," he adds. That must mean Finarfin and Fingolfin's crowd. "I have never asked Finno, and anyway he was the exception. Father used to say Finno's mother must be amazing, for him to so seamlessly get along with us all. I almost expected Finno to be allowed to go to Formenos with us, during the exile, just due to how my father had made an exception for him so much."

Just then a page knocks at the door; that's unusual. They don't bother him, typically. Maglor exclaims, "Oh, I forgot. That's for me. I promised Elrond I would come to the library and help him entertain Moryo, so that he doesn't have to be solely on duty for it. Caranthir's incredibly difficult to tolerate. That's just my alarm, a page to remind me."

… Sometimes Maglor is very different than he is. Like in having a servant serve as a literal 'remind me' service. Earendil has never even thought of that.

Maglor books it, and Earendil watches him go. After a while of trying to read more of his 'homework' [yes it's hard work and kind of a pain, after being metaphorically brain-dead out of grief and self-hatred for so long], he decides to go see if he can join them in the library.

He walks over, and when he shows up, Maglor looks at him questioningly, not expecting to see that he'd followed him after a bit.

Earendil says to him, "Anything to get out of homework," as an explanation.

Maglor laughs. He gestures to Caranthir, who is sitting very non-elegantly in a nearby chair. They are a study in contrasts; both dark haired, but Maglor is very attractive and has so much charisma, a loving and clever manner; he is [too] thin and very graceful, refined looking, and in behavior.

His brother uh, looks, well … like an elf that's kinda not super slender and beautiful and perfect.

Even Maglor's clothes look more stylish, and he's wearing toned down colors [but still colors! what a change], and rather plain robes. Caranthir's clothes look a little more sloppy. Really it's rather a minute difference, really, but Earendil can see it easily up close, with them being both right here beside each other.

"You know my brother, I think," Maglor jokes.

"Yes," Moryo says, quietly.

"I was just asking him what he is looking for, in Lord Elrond's library rooms, here," Maglor explains.

"I just like to look around in general, and at some of the volumes," Moryo says, seeming nervous to be with Maglor [not like he's seemed before, at the parties talking to Earendil.]

"Have you read a lot of books, then?" Earendil asks him, and he nods. "On what topic?"

Caranthir looks surprised. "What topic? I'm educated. So on everything." Maglor looks like he's thinking 'because you have no life', but he stays silent. "Why wouldn't someone have read all that they could, unless they are some low servant. And of course I've read about practical topics, when I had to manage things around Lake Helevorn. So city management, layout, that sort of thing. And books on trade and how to handle it."

"Like Erestor, what he does," Earendil says, and Caranthir looks surprised.

Maglor suddenly holds up a hand, to stop Moryo from responding, and says to Earendil gently, "Elves are not generally 'good'. My group is not exactly modest or humble. We are arrogant little pricks – yes, I include myself. People at this level, and of our type specifically, will not take comparison with other people easily, especially those who serve them. So because Erestor served Tylpe, it is considered that he simply did Typle's will. Now, that is not always the truth, obviously. But the elves don't like their class lines crossed. My brother I am sure can now shower you with invective before I stop him with my power."

Caranthir looks shocked, but also like yeah, he was going to say 'what the hell' and argue with Earendil, offended.

Then he looks thoughtful.

"That … is true," he says hesitantly. "That is not how an elf would talk. It is strange, to talk like that."

"Lord Earendil is sometimes interested in what those beneath him act like," Maglor says mildly to Moryo. "Which I am sure is the reason for this audience. He does not always share in the lower attitudes, beliefs and cultures of mere elves."

Caranthir looks at Earendil, a little astonished. "Truly? You do not find the culture of us to be good? Correct?"

"Just say 'superior'," Maglor says mildly, with mock exasperation.

"Well, all elves are kind of the same to me, a bit," Earendil explains, and Caranthir looks like he swallowed a lemon.

"But that's insane," Moryo bursts out, looking like he can't believe it. "How you could possibly compare the elves that live in the forests and just sing and dance, to elves that build and create, invent? We're totally different. In every way. Have you lived under a rock, to speak so crazily?"

Maglor sighs, put upon.

"That isn't polite," he rebukes him. "Did mother simply stop teaching manners after me? ... I suppose it would explain a lot. Apologize to him, he is your better. Also, don't disparage singing in front of me. It's like you're an idiot or something."

Caranthir looks chastened, and almost upset.

"What he said, I don't have a problem with. I don't care what he says, or if he argues with me," Earendil tells Maglor. "It's not offensive to me; elves say crazy stuff all the time, that's just how it is. I would prefer he talk like that than be bland and like the statue ones."

Elves seem to love to pretend they are above emotions and disagreement, most of the time. But it's so boring to listen to them talk and never hear anything 'real', anything interesting.

Maglor makes a moue of rueful approval. "As you like it, then. But when you eventually come to me, wanting me to censure him, I am going to take the opportunity to say 'I told you so'. Mark my words."

He smiles at Earendil and goes off.

Caranthir looks astonished again at all this. "Everyone always says I'm rude," he admits to Earendil. "Except the dwarves. They like me. But you can't be serious, before -- all the elves are totally different in so many ways."

"I do kind of find all elves to be similar," Earendil tells him. "Of course they have different pursuits, but the underlying similarity is there. Only rare elves seem like they are interesting. Like Maglor, or your father and mother."

"You know my parents?" Moryo asks him, weirded out. "Oh, because they apologized to you?"

"No," Earendil corrects. "I know Nerdanel because I used to give her updates on some stuff happening across the sea, and I know Feanor because Elrond is his friend, and so is Elwing."

"This is all so strange," Moryo tells him. "You are our enemy, and yet my father is cavorting with you all? And father seems well, now. I can barely remember that, from before."

"That is good, for him," Earendil comments, and Caranthir nods, but looks like he's not onboard.

"It's so extreme," he whispers. "I mean you both had 'one', and literally 'got away with it' – across an ocean even, and poor Kano practically died – well, lived, horribly, and now you're all chums? I can't believe it."

One silmaril, he means, Earendil grasps.

"It's been a long time for us all," Earendil points out.

And Maglor hadn't been what he expected. He is the first to say he is unforgiveable. He does not claim Elrond and say he should shun the blood people he never knew.

Maglor does not condemn them for their many egregious mistakes, and does not ever say the truth to their faces about how he truly is Elrond's actual parent, and they are literally nothing. Worthless.

Earendil can imagine Maglor back then, in the beginning of things, easily. Happy and studying music, and spending all his time with Finno and Nelyo. His parents there nearby, and proud of him for being so accomplished.

And Feanor took that and destroyed all of it, after Finwe and Melkor were done with him. While Earendil feels sick, and extreme shame, over what he and Elwing did with their own children – or didn't do, ironic huh, at least they didn't literally lead their children down a road that led to them being tortured [actually, not metaphorically.] ... Not that what they did [or didn't do] was way better, but still.

"It's like it all changed overnight," Caranthir tells him, almost with grief and anger. "Like none of it mattered at all."

"I have felt like that too, many times. It has taken me a long time to move forward," Earendil says honestly. "I'm sure you'll get there. It just is a slow thing."

Caranthir gives him a 'you've got to be shitting me look', and Earendil laughs.

"Well, I guess you'll see for yourself," he amends.

Moryo looks surprised at his reaction. " … Since you know I'm rude, can I ask you some rude questions?" he says, looking more relaxed.

"Yes, but I rarely answer the questions of the elves," Earendil explains.

"What is it like to be a higher being? And your wife is one too – is it amazing? Do you both do magical feats all the time, just casually? What do you think of the elves? You both must look upon us as we look upon mortals, and mortals look upon their beasts of burden." Caranthir asks.

Earendil shrugs. "It's not very exciting. And my wife is pretty neat. But we don't do very interesting stuff most of the time. The elves seem … very lifeless, calm, strange. Very focused on whatever they're into."

Moryo shakes his head. "You don't know the elves, then. I tell you, they are wild and rambunctious. They love to drink and cavort around and gambol and dance. Always. Never a moment of peace. And my family is even worse. Everyone in it is twice as feral as a normal elf."

Earendil laughs. "I guess. I only see them at certain times."

"They probably were all pretending to be proper for you," Caranthir judges. "And as soon as you look away they are all drunk and doing who knows what. Let me ask you something else – is it true that Kano likes this famous Laurefindel warrior?"

"Well, I guess you'd have to ask them that," Earendil says. "But I do think they seem to favor each other."

"Has everyone told you already about me?" he asks him, and Earendil shakes his head. "I'm famous for being ugly and mean. And uninteresting. I guess now though people will always think of the woman, when they think of me; I've heard people whisper of it."

He looks rather melancholy, as he delivers this information. "Although," Moryo continues, thankfully because Earendil did not know what to say, "I guess her name will live forever, because of that. I like that. She'll never be forgotten, because elves will comment on me or my absence anywhere and gossip about it. I hope she is happy, whereever she is."

Then he starts tearing up, which kind of startles Earendil. Elves don't usually do that – they typically do stuff more like 'elegantly looking sad' or 'misty-eyed as they stare into the distance while looking beautiful'.

But Caranthir isn't like that, it seems.

"She is at peace, and happy," Earendil tells him, and comes over to sit on the arm of his big chair and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Thankfully the chair is big and sturdy, not one of those tiny elven chairs that look like they're made out of gossamer [and who knows how much weight they will hold.]

Caranthir calms down all of a sudden, and says, "This is not a good example for you, to talk to me. This isn't how elves act at all. And I am no honorable elf, they all say. Of course it didn't seem that way, at the time. It all seemed right, then. And now we are somehow considered wrong, which I find disingenuous. But if Kano hears me say anything true, he'll proabably wring my neck."

Actually, his ability to stop how upset he was within a second really is elven, absolutely. But it is true that he's very unusual.

"Not with his hands, obviously," Moryo adds, with an air of edification. "He'd never damage them, because of his music. He'd have a servant do it on his behalf, or use his weird power. I have read he burned his hand on our jewel, which is so horrific to think of. How evil the Valar are. Him of all people -- and the same for Nelyo. How monstrous."

"At least Elrond could help with it, back then," Earendil notes. "But yes, I don't care for the Valar either."

"Really?" he asks, bemused. "Are you not their hero, their exception? That you were allowed to come here?"

"Not really," Earendil explains. "They let my father come here too, and live forever, and he's totally mortal. They're basically pernicious little fucks. Fickle as anything."

Caranthir stares at him.

… He doesn't stop. He looks at him for a long time. Finally he looks away, and gasps for breath over and over for a while, and starts weeping in earnest. [Earendil mentally asked elves nearby to get Elrond already, half-way through the gasping.] He's full on ugly crying, almost like a 'real' person would [well, that's how Earendil thinks of him and Elwing and Elrond et cetera and her brothers obviously, as 'real', as compared to the elves en masse.]

Earendil tries at first to ask him if he needs something, like a healer or one of those elixirs or whatever, but it's like he doesn't hear him.

Thankfully Elrond shows up fast.

He makes Moryo drink something, who protests, and then Elrond threatens, "Shall I get your brother, then? And ask him to make you drink it? I am only giving you some relief."

So Caranthir drinks it, but begrudgingly.

His gasping-crying stops, and he seems to be wilted now, and more exhausted from it in a way that Earendil hasn't seen in elves [except that one time he won't think of – no. Think of something else.]

"Do you want us to take you to your rooms?" Elrond asks him, and he says no, tired and upset and petulant.

Elrond just looks amused, unseen by Caranthir, and leaves. Pages come in with 'tea for Lord Earendil, as Lord Elrond instructed', and he knows at once that that's Elrond's way of trying to get Moryo to drink some without dealing with his 'leave me alone! no no no'-ness.

He pours himself some tea and drinks it, and grabs some cookies for his plate, and starts eating them. Caranthir is clearly still trying to get more calm and be less distressed, and compose himself.

Earendil can see why Maglor says Moryo is the 'rude' one. Basically it's because he's not pretending to put on 'perfect' airs and act composed constantly. He's a real person, instead. Flawed, and speaking out of turn, and not worshipful of someone higher than him. He's authentic, in a way -- potentially one of the only elves that says what they're thinking.

He does not have the appeal of Maglor or the greatness of Nelyo in him at all. Earendil can see why they are both considered the best of the brothers easily. Their natural charm [in different ways] makes politics much smoother and simpler for them, than for a 'real', normal elf.

Really, Maglor seems perfect in general, in charming personality, and Nelyo in natural gravitas, wisdom [let's not mention the kinslayings, that's an exception, he thinks] and physical sheer gorgeousness.

This guy, Moryo, is more like Earendil, or Elwing even, than any of the elves, really. Awkward and uncomfortable with other people.

"I am sorry about what I have heard, about her," he tells Moryo, who looks surprised, and sad all over again.

"People make it out to be something," Caranthir tells him. "It wasn't. I was never even alone with her, not even once. We barely even spoke. It is true though, that she was amazing. And beautiful. In a tough way, like mortal women are. Not like a delicate elf lady of rank. I would have never insulted her by saying I liked her. The power imbalance would be wrong, as is the question of children. And I would have had to live through her death and any children's deaths anyway, if she even survived having any. I know mortals are weak and sickly, they die easily and quickly from many causes. I may be the 'worst' one of us brothers, but even I am not that despicable. I would never have put her health at risk."

Earendil nods a little, and smiles inside.

He too thinks it wrong to have a half-mortal child. And this guy's concerns about mortals are all valid. Caranthir is simply very blunt, like Feanor is. Typically people are a bit distracted from Feanor's rude way of speaking [due to said bluntness] because of his amazing creations, incredible level of learning and knowledge and skill, power, and his general infamy [both good and bad.]

He decides not to mention that Moryo's own grandmother famously died because of having a kid … the first elf to ever die like that. Kind of ironic to think of mortals as dying easily, when you're closely related to an elf [the only one? he doesn't know] who did.

"At least someone immortal saw her greatness, and remembers her," he says simply. "She has fame among the eldar. Her name is known for her valor."

"Yes," Caranthir agrees, looking even more red in face than usual, from the previous exertion. "I am so angry, and jealous, that your father was let over here. She could have come. I mean, not contingent on me or something. As her own person. Even with another elf, or mortal. She deserved it. It's so wrong they let in some random guy and don't let her in. She was worth it."

"I agree," Earendil tells him, amused at Moryo calling his dad a 'random guy'. "I wish it were not so, that the Valar in their evil did all they did, and what they didn't do. She sounds like she'd be interesting to meet."

A woman like that might even be unusual, in the sense that Elwing would get along with her. They'll never know.

"I'd say don't tell Kano I got upset, but he'll already know," Caranthir says, long-suffering. "These are his people here, and Nelyo's, and they cleave to him mightily. My father's people practically worship him and Nelyo."

Earendil eats some cookies.

"He's used to me crying all over him all the time," he tells Moryo, who blinks, shakes his head and tries to re-understand that sentence, which clearly makes no sense to him.

"Are you sure you're talking about Kano – Makalaure, that is?" Caranthir ventures. "Can you tell elves apart?"

Earendil laughs. "Some of them. The more famous ones, or more unusual ones, yes. Maglor is famous for his music, and more so to me for saving my kids."

"How strange, for Kano to be so close to you," he muses. "And he's never even cared about blood rank before. If Nelyo happened to be his last, youngest brother, or the lowest servant, he'd still cling to him."

Earendil understands that the elves say he and Elwing are 'above' them, they are 'special'; and he pretends he doesn't notice when Moryo takes some tea for himself. The cookies are good, so he eats them. There's a great big, tall fluffy sugar lemon-blueberry one.

Say what you want about the Feanoreans, but they make amazing food. They could have really converted everyone to their side at the start and even later, if they handed this stuff out, he thinks. It's that good.

"I think it's more cause I'll listen to his talks about music and try to keep myself awake," Earendil jokes.

Moryo looks morose. "I know Haleth wasn't anyone, but … I thought she was special, despite that. If you and your wife can live here forever … and your father. I wish she could. It's so unfair."

"I wonder if she'd be annoyed with all the elves," Earendil points out. "And want her group to come with her. I know we get annoyed with them, at times, at having to live among them."

Caranthir shrugs, and drinks more tea, and tries a cookie. "Yes. I know. You're right. I wouldn't want her separated from her world and culture. I mean they were all very simple in everything, obviously. Primitive. But I think she preferred that. I wouldn't want her without her tribe, and hating her life here. Forever."

He talks about her for a while. It's sad, to see how much he really liked her and respected her, despite his cultural indoctrination of 'those lowly mortals aren't as advanced as us Noldor, we're the best even of the elves' stuff.

Finally Maglor swans in and sees that they're still there. He says to Earendil, "Come along, there's something to see. My brother has bothered you enough."

Moryo nods goodbye, and Earendil leaves with Maglor. That was probably smart, he thinks, given as Caranthir appears to have fewer social skills than even he does. Best not to tire him in this vein.

Outside, Maglor tells him, "It's actually a little event that the Queen wanted to have. So we're all going. Elrond and I thought we should ask if you want to go too."

"You're not going to ask him?" he says, surprised. I mean the guy's right there, he thinks.

Maglor visibly recoils. "Absolutely not. He wasn't invited when I was young either. That's like inviting Celegorm – do you want the room covered in mud and to step on random who knows what? He is not a 'royal life' person. Also, god forbid the Queen get annoyed by him. I cannot guarantee my father wouldn't try to hurt him, even now after my father's become supposedly non-crazy. Besides, me and Nelyo are the party people. The rest of them all are practically rabid, and they don't want to go anyway. We're doing them a favor."

They all get dressed, and Elwing wants to come too [and they all welcome her to come], and then they go over to Miriel's gathering. It turns out that it's an award ceremony for sewing, where Miriel wants to recognize great sewers of the populace.

Servants display the works in a large hall, and the royal elves mill around and look at them all, before Miriel gives a speech from a grand silver throne.

'Did your father make that for her?' he asks Maglor mentally.

'Oh yes,' Kano tells him with osanwe. 'It's ostentatous, yet it seems to fit. That's his m.o. Though even I would say nothing is good enough for her.'

In an apparently shocking [to the elves] move, Miriel has invited all the actual tapestry [or sewers, et cetera] creators. Almost none of them are actually royals, or aristocrats, and lots of them are straight up Feanorean servants, either from Elrond's town or from Nerdanel's area.

After Miriel speaks formally, she walks around to each one, and talks personally to the elves who created every piece, who stand by their work. Feanor helps her walk easier, as she uses a cane. When Elrond's people are highlighted by Miriel, their work is all next to each other, he goes and stands with them to hear it, and congratulates them as if they're his friends and equals, unlike the normal elf royals.

As the event turns into a regular party after this, Elwing asks Earendil to introduce her to Miriel. So he takes her over, and they say hello.

"You are that magic one, that tells my son what to invent," Miriel says, and Elwing smiles.

"I like when he makes things I thought of," she confirms.

"He is talented," Miriel agrees, and has Elwing sit down next to her. "You must tell me about your child's town, as I do not travel much. They say it is a copy of another town on the old far shore."

"Maglor could tell you better than me," Elwing says frankly. "I've only been all over in it recently. And I've never been to the real one, back at home. Gil-Galad has though. And Maglor, too. It has waterfalls everywhere instead of only solid walls, like you have. Here. It isn't as elf-y."

Miriel is intrigued by this, and asks her more questions. Earendil lurks nearby in case Elwing needs him, but Miriel seems to be very good at talking to people who are not normal elves.

Finally Elwing leaves her, and joins back up with Earendil. "She wanted to know what mosses talk about, to each other, cause she already talks to Celegorm," Elwing tells him.

Maglor escapes his rabid fan base somehow and comes to see them in their little current out of the way nook, in the palace.

"Do you want some refreshments?" he asks them. "Finno and some elves are going to compete in archery for the amusement of it. I already told Elrond he musn't join them, because I think half are already drunk. And anyway, he could beat them all after how I trained him. And due to his magic stuff, I'm sure."

"What's the food today?" Elwing asks him. "And Elrond uses magic in everything, it's part of him. He just doesn't realize it."

"Oh," Maglor says, clearly not expecting to hear that.

"Same for you, and Earendil," she continues. "You both chalk things up to reasonable explanations. But truly, you are both affecting things around you all the time."

Maglor looks confused. "I can't do that, I mean nothing's ever changed to how I wanted it to be."

"You improved things," Elwing explains. "A world without your attempts at goodness would be much worse. Even if what you did didn't work, the good you were putting out into the ether did change the future."

"Thank you," Maglor says, still mystified. "Let us return to a subject I understand," he jokes with her. "For food there is pike quenelles, chicken fricassee, leek and potato soup, rice pudding, apple tarts, and génoise. Shall you like to try it?"

They say yes, and then try it all together, Maglor tells a servant to fetch them a sampler; Elrond is still talking to his people who were honored. Eventually he comes over to them and tries the génoise. [It's good, cake with cream and fruits.]

It's already late, so Maglor and Elrond go with them down to stay at Maglor's music room, at Nerdanel's estate. Finwe tries to protest this, and Maglor tells him sweetly with an obvious glare, "If you say anything else, I'll get Nelyo and Finno to come too."

He subsides, and they leave. [Glorfindel wants to stay later and keep playing archery and other sports with the elves there.]

How lovely to be back in the open air, in nature, and not inside. It's open space here, trees and just nothing bad. It's heavenly. The cool dark night is beautiful; they ride slowly on their horses to Nerdanel's area. And then finally they are there, and follow Maglor in through his entrance rooms to where the bedroom is.

Everyone gets ready to rest, and Maglor tells Elwing he can get her some sleep clothes of his mother's. She agrees, and Maglor goes himself outside, and down into the main house a ways away, and comes back with some lady pyjamas [instead of having a servant do it.] Elwing magically puts it on herself in an instant.

Maglor gets the fire going himself, not letting pages upstairs to do it, since they are all ready for bed. He gives Earendil his usual set of Nelyo's pyjamas.

[Earendil hides his current clothes so the pages can't wash them and also asks Maglor to say no one is allowed inside if they're there; he agrees. It's just creepy, even if it is the norm for the elves to have servants around all the time, and even if they were only going into the front upstairs room, not the actual bedroom. It's still uncomfortable.]

And then they rest. Maglor gets in the middle like usual, and Earendil and Elwing get into his crazy 'above bed' hammock. Maglor makes him and Elwing get in first, so he can help them tuck in their sheets and blankets 'into' the hammock.

It's delicious to be somewhere warm and cozy and not have any responsibilities, and very nice to have Elwing, and Maglor too a little, up so close to him, and to hear Elrond breathing deeply, because he already fell asleep.

The next morning, they all get up late, even Maglor.

Elwing wants Maglor to brush her hair, but he tells her he has to do all three of them so it's fair, making Elrond laugh. And he does. They all lounge around after that, enjoying that pleasure. Elwing requests, "A nice song, a morning song – but not a wake up song. A non-energetic one."

And Maglor obliges.

"Of course," he agrees, "let me go get my harp."

Then he plays, which is a great joy. Of course by now a lot of time has gone by, and eventually they get it together, get dressed and ready, and Maglor tells a page to bring them breakfast in the interim.

Earendil convinces Maglor to let him comb his hair, which is so very short, above his shoulders, unlike normal elves [or all of them.]

Maglor finally lets him do it, and then rests himself for a few minutes as they all settle in to eat. Then he declares, "I'm going to tell Glorfindel you're better at that than he is," just to tease him.

"My friend, you'll just embarrass Glorfindel," Elrond smiles, telling Maglor. "He'll say 'what else aren't I good at then', and demand to know who you're spending your time with."

"I don't think so," Maglor argues, amused, while pouring out some tea for them all, as the rest of them take food for their plates. "He knows I have zero energy."

There are piles of hot fluffy biscuits, and griddle cakes, and steak and eggs. Bowls of cut fruit and liquid warm drinking chocolate, which Maglor has.

After they eat, they are all sluggish to leave, and Maglor eventually starts reorganizing his different harps.

By the time they actually get home on their horses, Glorfindel meets them at the entrance to new Rivendell with his hands on his hips.

"Where have you been? I told Erestor you'd all clearly been eaten by a giant sea monster, and that I should be in charge. … He said he was going to see if Galadriel was available to rule here too, to help Gil-Galad, can you believe it?"

Elrond laughs.

"I can believe it," Elwing tells him frankly, after turning from a bird into a person. On horse rides she usually stays as a bird.

"I am outraged," Glorfindel tells her primly. "I could definitely be a great ruler."

"As long as it didn't interrupt your schedule of doing nothing?" Maglor asks, as Glorfindel picks him up off his horse and carries him to their rooms.

"I do lots of stuff," he argues. "Just the other day, I went to a flower show."

Elwing and Earendil look at each other; Maglor is already laughing.

"That counts," Glorfindel tells him. "Stop laughing. I did other stuff too." He starts listening it out, as Maglor dismisses each thing summarily, just to tease him.

Now that they're home, they all laze around even more, of course. Elrond goes to while away the hours with his love interest the king; Glorfindel badgers Maglor and vice versa quite enthusiastically; and Elwing and Earendil go to his house together.

He tries to read some more books re his 'homework', and Elwing works on her Quenya practice book that Maglor made for her by hand [cause she didn't like any of the real ones that the scribes could copy out for her.]

They both sa-si, obviously, and Maglor first spoke to Elwing at length about it when she said she wanted to learn Quenya. In the end, she decided to match Earendil and Elrond, who were both raised to sa-si [Earendil because Turgon's family kept up their Quenya lightly despite Gondolin having its own Sinardin dialect eventually, and Elrond because Maglor taught him that way on purpose, assuming he'd eventually rejoin his own people [on either blood side] and that they would either sa-si or speak Sindarin, which he also taught him.]

Later they venture out to the candy shops, with Elwing as a bird on his shoulder, and he asks the confection manager if they can have an assortment. He gives Earendil a bunch of boxes, and he says thank you, and walks home carrying them.

The sweets buildings have their own sugar production [both sugarcane growing outside and also a honey production area] and flower gardens [for edible flowers that go in/on different foods, or just sugared themselves] and other things. They also have special animals set aside for the goal of the production of butter. [It tastes amazing, honestly.]

At home they open the boxes up and look at all the fancy pastries, and try them.

After a while, he starts hanging out with Caranthir in the library. Elrond gives him a special room just for him to read in, in there, so Earendil comes by sometimes and says hello. Moryo seems to like to talk, despite his reputation.

Eventually Caranthir asks him if he "can ask Elrond if I can ask him something?"

He does, and Elrond agrees easily, coming by the library himself.

Later he tells Earendil that Moryo wanted to know if he could go to the concerts of Maglor's music that are here in new Rivendell, or if Maglor would prefer he didn't go [it had to be explained to him that Maglor doesn't play for audiences here], and then also Moryo asked if Elrond thought any of Moryo's people that now live in new Rivendell wanted to return to him, or no.

This was a hard question, Elrond tells him one morning in his rooms. "I told him I could ask them personally, and pretend it was for me. But I explained it'd been a long time before the remaking since he died, so things might be different now, just due to the time elapse. And he seemed to understand. Some of them here did want to go back to him, so I let him know. These elves are not Maglor or Nelyo's people; none of them left before, unless by death."

At one point Moryo asks him why he comes to see him, and Earendil explains, "I don't really have any friends, other than Maglor, and Glorfindel."

He leaves out the other part, about how Moryo is simply such a weird example of an elf that Earendil feels much more comfortable with him than with regular ones.

"Do you really not love books?" Caranthir says, and he nods.

"Though I am trying to read some basic ones. Maglor is teaching me stuff, since I never learned much, because of what happened," Earendil explains.

"Well, how far along did you get?" Moryo asks him. Then he blanches when he figures out how little Earendil actually knows in terms of book learning. "Oh my god. The Valar should have sent you to school with some little elf children over here when you got here, not had you in some floating boat. What the hell."

Earendil laughs. "Yeah, I know," he agrees.

Caranthir looks at him funny. "You never get angered by me, it seems like. I don't understand. Everyone does. I'm the worst son of Feanor, in terms of offending people; the worst one in terms of lethality is Celegorm, or Nelyo."

"I'm not an elf," Earendil reminds him.

Moryo squints at him. "Why aren't you a king somewhere?"

Earendil shrugs. "That's not really something I'm interested in. I'm more of a 'being lazy, hopefully no more monster creatures show up, and sailing sometimes guy.' "

"Well, if you want, I can get you some kid books about stuff to make sure you know the basics," Caranthir offers. "Cause I don't think you do, based on what you've said so far. At this point, I'm concerned that you're almost illiterate."

"Alright," he agrees, and smiles. Moryo doesn't say it meanly, just honestly, neutrally.

It's not that he doesn't like how kind Maglor is to him, protecting his feelings when he feels most vulnerable and weak, or how restrained Elrond is when not saying 'you piece of trash' when he sees him, but it can be nice to talk to someone who's just honest and doesn't care about treating Earendil like how all the normal elves treat him [as a king, a hero, a magical thing to worship.]

Actually, talking to Moryo is kind of like talking to Elwing, or Feanor. Though Feanor is trying to be more polite recently, he's heard. With varying amounts of success.

Maglor told him he tried to be more polite to his two step-brothers, and they got nervous and told him he was scaring them with his 'creepy behavior'. So he gave it up with them, and was his regular self, which they openly said they preferred, after he explained.

He meets Caranthir in his private library room a few days later, and finds that he has a big stack of literal elven chidren's books. "You need to read those immediately," Moryo tells him as he comes in, pointing to them. "This is a knowledge emergency."

Earendil laughs and looks at the small books, paging through them.

"I know some of this," he reports to Moryo, who shakes his head.

"This should all be information you know by heart," Caranthir explains. "Then you build upon this foundation."

Interestingly, what Moryo thinks Earendil should know is different than what Elrond put on the syllabus for him, which is also different from what Maglor teaches him off the cuff.

In the next few days Elwing is busy going up to the northlands to talk to narwhals with Celegorm, and Finno finds out by happenstance, and is extremely upset for her to be in such a cold place, clearly fearing that it is as dangerous as the grinding ice was.

Earendil finds out that Finno is having a stroke about it one random day when he walks over to Elrond's rooms to see what everyone is doing.

"You must tell her with magic to come back immediately," he's imporing Elrond, as Earendil walks in.

"Just her," Maglor says dryly. [ie that it's fine for Celegorm not to be 'rescued', the way Finno is imagining it.]

"No," Finno insists, looking at Maglor. "Not even him, should be left. To … that!"

He looks extremely upset, and Nelyo is already there with him, trying to gently touch his arm, to calm him.

"I know," Maglor tells Fingon seriously, going to help Nelyo comfort him. "I know."

Finno nods, and breathes for a while, heavily. Elrond announces, "I have already told them. She said that you are 'misunderstanding where they are', that it is not very cold there. And that her magic prevents her from feeling any temperature, if she desires it. She also said I should tell you that she never lets any temperature affect her because she thinks it makes her hair look bad."

Maglor laughs quietly.

"I think her hair looks okay, then. She's just more particular," Earendil tells them, and even Fingon looks a little more relaxed.

After a little while, she and Celegorm are suddenly present in the room. Celegorm looks all around, interested, of course, since he was brought by her with magic to this place.

"Kano," he exclaims, upon seeing him, and at the same time Finno gets up and runs to Elwing and throws his arms around her, and shakes in his residual trauma.

"We saw a narwhal, finally," Celegorm tells Maglor, seemingly unconcerned by Fingon's behavior; as if this narwhal sighting is crucial information or something. "We talked to it."

"Yes?" Maglor says, clearly trying to act like this isn't odd. "And what use are those creatures? Are they food?"

"No, they just look cool," Celegorm tells him simply, earnestly.

"Why don't I play for a moment, to celebrate," Maglor says, looking at Finno concernedly, and everyone agrees.

… Everyone except Celegorm. "I don't have time for that," he tells Maglor as he goes for a harp. "And I don't want to feel feelings. It's like you're pressing on me somehow, making me feel things I didn't pick."

"Why don't you decamp to wherever you'd prefer to be," Maglor agrees, strained. "Like a forest, or other place in the distance."

"Okay," Celegorm agrees, cheerfully, and runs off.

"Now sit down, Finno, so I can play," Maglor says soothingly, and Nelyo helps Fingon get off of Elwing, who bears his desperate hug with a lot of grace, and sympathy for his fear and trauma, and sit down.

Elwing sits down too, and Earendil joins her on the far couch; the close one has Finno and Nelyo on it, with Elrond watching them in case he needs to intervene to provide Finno with more relief.

Maglor plays, and it's transformative, like always.

At some point he rouses himself from his post-music stupor, and sees that Glorfindel is helping to carry Finno over to his private rooms now, so he can rest with Nelyo. He and Elrond help both of them back to their special quarters here in Elrond's part of the town.

Maglor goes with them; Earendil watches them leave. Then he returns, while Elrond does not, nor Glorfindel.

When Maglor sees them two left in here, he goes and sits with them on their couch and pets them in turn as they loiter in the after effects of the music euphoira.

It's weirdly nice to be treated like a little pet sometimes. Maglor very much does that at certain moments. He will tell them to eat their supper, or put on their socks, or go to bed because it's very late and even he's tired and he's very old, don't they know that?

In Gondolin, his childhood had been mainly just focused on him playing alone; then in Sirion it had been taken up with the idea of his future mission, and what he'd need for it [learning to sail, building a ship, etc.] Idril had become even more lax then, and Tuor had agreed, that Earendil should get to play [and do whatever he wanted] all the time when not working on his sailing literally and also learning about sailing.

Elwing, he knows, similarly did whatever she wanted, her people flattered themselves that they could influence her. Spoiler alert: they couldn't, not very well.

So suffice it to say, it's been a long time since anyone's acted so proprietarily with him. Even his parents were impressed with his and Elwing's feats, and treat them both like the respected [and loved] adults they are.

Sometimes he doesn't want to be responsible. He wants to just check out and relax; he knows Elwing feels this way too. They've talked about it. It's nice when Maglor is close, and indulging them, despite their ages [ie not young now.]

After that's done, he and Elwing go back to their house and rest some more together in the hammock. Snuggling with her and Maglor must be what a massage feels like, he thinks. Elrond had told him many elves get them for medical problems, or even just to relax, but the idea of some random elf touching him is literally so horrible to imagine. This is different.

Later Elwing brings him to see where the narwhal was, after he asks her to. "It really is not that cold," he muses, and she nods.

"I know, but Fingon wasn't listening at all," she tells him seriously. "He is very scared of ice and cold still."

"Poor Finno," Earendil says, empathetic, and Elwing agrees.

Then they go home, not having seen any narwhals while they were just there. They take a nice bath together, and start kissing in it, and then Elwing accidentally magically breaks the bath at the end of … things. Because she felt good.

She magics the spilled water away, and then the tub [that's in pieces now] too. Now they have no bathtub in his house. "I'll ask them tomorrow for one," he tells her, obviously mellow, [despite being suddenly on the floor due to the sudden absence of both the water and the bath.]

She is too, despite the accidental bath destruction.

The next day he goes to Erestor and asks if he can somehow buy a new bathtub, because his is 'mysteriously gone, I don't really want to explain, but it's been destroyed'.

Erestor looks sly and tells him a bunch of hilarious stories about how Glorfindel and also Elrond have ruined things over the years by misadventure and also sometimes even magic [Elrond, he's told, insists that those are Glorfindel's fault too. Glorfindel reportedly says 'he started it'.]

Servants bring him a new bathtub and deposit it in his house very quickly after Erestor has him choose from a multitude of options. Perhaps unwisely, he says to Elwing, "Do you want to see if we ruin this one too?"

"Yes," she agrees immediately, pleased. "Let's get back on the horse."

So they make love in the bath again; this bathtub survives, thankfully. One of the nice things about both of them feeling better, compared to their early grief, is that they have sex now all the time. It's transcendent.

Elwing is much stronger than him, because she doesn't need muscles for that, she has magic. … It's extremely incredible. She manhandles him sometimes, and it's amazing.

He always though Elwing clothed was really attractive, and it turned out that Elwing unclothed is very hot. Of course she seems like she likes him, and wants him, which is some intrinsic part of it, being wanted.

Their intimacy now that they're old is way better than when they were young for like a million obvious reasons. He's happy they get to enjoy this now, free and safe, and older, finally.

After they keep [metaphorically] breaking in the new bathtub, they finally get out of the routine and go back to their slightly less aggressive amounts of intimacy. Technically it's typically all the time anyway, unless one of them is feeling sad, or is busy, or what have you.

When Glorfindel asks where they've been, Elwing tells him in front of everyone in Elrond's rooms that they were on a 'sex holiday'.

Maglor laughs, and Elrond puts his hands over his face. "Absolutely not, I am not listening to this," he tells her. "My parents are pure and spiritual, and probably made me magically out of magic anyway."

"Well, yeah, but we were naked," Elwing corrects and he groans in horror.

Maglor keeps laughing.

"I can't hear this," Elrond declares, and leaves. Glorfindel follows him, saying to them, "I guess I was thinking the same thing, honestly," and splits. "It's so gross to imagine you guys like normal elves, coupling. You seem so good, so above it."

Maglor looks amused at Glorfindel's running away.

Elwing looks over at Maglor and Earendil, and rushes to him and grabs his wrist, and looks at Earendil and grabs one of his with her other hand. "Did you hear that? He said we were his parents!"

"Of course you are, child," Maglor says, gentle, smiling; happy for her. She is excited, and wants to share her joy. He always seems to understand her; on top of that, Earendil wonders if the boys were like her when young. "Every kid wants to avoid hearing about their parents' love. It's just repulsive to think about. I refuse to think my mother has ever even been near my father, all evidence to the contrary."

Elwing laughs. "You have so many siblings," she declares, clearly finding his joke amusing.

"Unfortunately," he agrees. "I try to mentally pretend it's only me and Nelyo most of the time, honestly."

"They all served their purpose," Elwing adds, and Maglor looks surprised. Sometimes she says stuff that's more existential than mundane. "Here and now, few have one."

"Indeed," Maglor nods. "I don't think Curvo will ever get better, honestly. He's too tied to his own little family, that is ruined, by him and our father. At least I broke off from my people, a little, towards someone better."

Elrond, he means, Earendil knows.

"Really, the only extant purpose is love," Elwing continues. "Nelyo loves you and Finno, you love Elrond and Glorfindel and us, and Celegorm loves his god. Without that, you'd all be Curvo."

Maglor looks taken aback.

"And us too," Elwing says. "We have our parents, and Elrond with his people, and you."

"Yes," Maglor agrees. "You have a lot."

"Will you come do school with me? I did my page in my workbook," Elwing tells him, and he agrees. They walk over together to Elwing's house and Maglor lays down with them on the giant pillow pile up area, and goes over her Quenya practice with her.

"Shouldn't you talk the other way?" Elwing suddenly says. "With the original sound, the lisp noise."

Maglor smiles. "Yes, and I do. But when I learned to talk the other way for the boys, I got used to the other way. And then later, I was with Elrond again. I know he was a king in his own right then, and his people mostly were just Feanoreans, but I didn't want to spoil all the work I'd put in to teaching him, since he and Glorfindel sa-si-ed, and Erestor spoke in Sindarin to them only, to keep from talking differently. So I kept up with my sa-si-ing. And look, now it's helpful too, to show you things."

Earendil watches them work on the next page of her [handmade] Quenya school book together. Since his Quenya is not perfect, it's interesting to actually learn about it.

Eventually Maglor says they must stop, because language work needs many breaks to be easily remembered.

"And anyway, I should go make sure Glorfindel isn't annoying Finno and Nelyo," he tells them, and crawls off the legion amount of pillows, and then stands up. "See you."

They both say bye, and he goes out. Elwing suggests they go to her mother's house, and he agrees. Her brothers are there, and they all have a picnic outside together. … And the three of them have a food fight during it at one point, while her mother yells that they shouldn't waste the elves' food because it's disrespectful to them and to Elrond, so they stop. Elwing and her brothers restore the food to its original state with magic, and then they all continue picnicing.

Earendil asks the guys how they're doing, and one of them says, "We're good. We kind of like that elf lady that's always out riding, and we know that elves act crazy about only one person at a time, for love. So we're thinking about pretending we're each other all the time to be with her."

Like twins tricking people, he realizes, by switching places.

"You can't lie to some elf woman," Nimloth scolds. "Do not dishonor yourselves. … Though I like the ingenuity a lot. In general. Very clever, boys."

They beam.

"Who's the lady?" Earendil asks. The other one [he can never tell them apart] says, "The white lady of Gondolin."

Oh. Ugh. Aredhel.

"Well … " he responds. "You're both a big step up from her previous marriage."

They look pleased. Elwing agrees with Earendil and says, "Yes, you are both nice people, and if you fuck around then I will tell our magic forebearer, and she'll fuck you up. And if you make more people who aren't normal blooded I swear to god I'll kill you – and I'll be worse than Celegorm's mercy dumping."

Melian, she means, he knows.

The boys protest that they would never be rude to a lady, or make a child with their higher, weirder blood. They too know what it is to be different forever – an alien in this land for all of time to it's majority population. Except for that they spend huge amounts of time with the maiar and valar, since they are that in part. So at least they have that community, as Elwing does.

Earendil doesn't have that, and is lonelier than them in a way, but he is happy Elwing has it.

It's nice of Elwing to say such a thing for that horrid elf woman, that she would go to Melian of all people. She smiles at him, clearly having heard that. He smiles back.

"You know," Earendil tells the boys. "I know it's unusual … But Finwe is actually currently married to both Indis and Miriel. So why can't you do that?"

They both look interested, and discuss it. It is true, that the elves do whatever they want now. The 'dark' elves probably always did, but even the Noldor are doing weird stuff now, some openly.

Nimloth says she thinks it's fine if this elf lady likes them both and wants to do it, but they must be very sensitive to her wishes, seeing as she had such a bad past.

In the next few weeks Elwing goes on more nature trips with Celegorm and his dog, and Glorfindel drags Earendil shopping with him and to art shows ['other people don't appreciate them enough', he informs him, which must be referring to Maglor.]

He has tea with Elrond at times, and it's fun even though it's stressful. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing. Elrond once in a while shows him new inventions his Feanorean people have made. It's very impressive, but really Feanor would be a better audience than him.

They all keep going to lots of parties; Earendil goes to some of them. At one Fingolfin party he tells Maglor as they arrive that, "this is how I know I wasn't cut out to be a real royal, or an elf – don't they get tired of this?"

Maglor looks at him surprised. "Tired? Of having fun?"

Then they both kind of smile at each other, at realizing they both have diametrically opposing viewpoints.

"I guess I like the dwarves' parties better," he shrugs, and Maglor nods, and looks like he understands.

They do still go to lots of dwarven parties, to see Tylpe, when he isn't in Nerdanel's house checking on his father's progress with Elrond's treatments, [due to Curvo's illness/coma-like state.]

Nimloth comes at times to comfort Tylpe, which Elwing has told him he appreciates very much.

Eventually she tells him she's not sure what's going on there, to his surprise. Well … at least Maglor and Elrond have said Tylpe is innocent and good, and he obviously understands suffering.

That's going to be wild for Curvo to hear about if he ever wakes up, he thinks. But at least Feanor is pro it, Elwing tells him. "We talked about it – asking about both of them to each other for a long time. We think they might be good together. And they both are good, and have similar 'life has been a horrific mistake' experiences, so there's no problem there."

Caranthir comes over all the time to talk to Elrond about books; finally, there's someone as interested in them as him, apparently. They both meet with dwarves at times who are the dwarf version of the Lambengolmor. [Who Elrond still won't speak to [other than polite/perfunctory], to Feanor's glee.]

"I don't talk to Pengolodh either," Elrond tells him one night, at a Nelyo house party. "Rúmil, yes. Tylpe doesn't like Peng as well, so if we want help with learning dwarven concepts from an elf that knows them, we can go to him. But I have to leave tomorrow, did I tell you? To see Thranduil."

"Why?" Earendil asks him.

"Because the plants of grapes we gave him when he came over the sea have finally gotten to the point that they're making good quality Dorwinion wine. It can put even an elf to sleep," Elrond says.

" … I didn't think the elves needed help in that area," he tells him.

Elrond laughs. "I know, but Thranduil was upset to have to come here. This, the plants gift, was our way of showing him we needed him – as a friend, as our old ally, as also to help us with the wine variety project."

"I better not try it, then," Earendil notes, and Elrond nods.

"Even I barely have any, and almost fall down, it's incredibly powerful," he says.

Chapter Text

Eventually Elrond seems to make progress on Curvo, and Nelyo and Maglor pointedly do not go see him. "He has mother and father," Kano dismisses, when Finno asks him if they are ever going to go in Earendil's hearing. "Also we don't really like him. He's like Caranthir without the lack of social graces. He always was a little too proud of himself as the mini-version of father. Look where that got him."

Nelyo nods, backing him up.

Earendil says nothing, because Curvo is literally his nightmare, his worst case scenario, for himself. A son who rejects him totally, a wife who leaves him, an empty life of nothing, with no future.

Thankfully that's not the case for him, but he still gets a shiver down his spine, to think of Curvo's fate.

Eventually Curvo's wife sends one of her handmaidens to Nerdanel saying she wants her to look after him, since she basically loves him more than his wife does now – and she says that's fine with her, as it's a kindness to Tylpe, in a way, so he doesn't have to worry about his father and can get on with his life.

The elf lady is a Feanorean servant, interestingly.

A long time after that Earendil hears that Curvo wakes up, and remembers her of course, and after some time likes her back now, and they live together in Nerdanel's house, also with her and Feanor. And Tylpe visits him at times.

In the mean time, everything is like usual. Maglor sings and plays for them often, of course, like always. For some songs he uses two harps, and kind of sits between them. The music is mind blowing, which is the case at all times.

Royal elves travel a lot, it seems, to other courts, and back again. There are public sporting games displays, and holidays where courtly visits are apparently appropriate – Maglor picks their clothes for them [Elwing and Earendil ask him to, when they wish to attend.]

Maglor is obviously always in demand, as is Elrond – who's told him it's partially because he's a bit of a recluse, so the famous people in Aman always want to see him up close and get to talk to him.

"I fear they are often disappointed," he tells Earendil, as they prepare to get ready to ride out to go to Olwe's court. "You and mother look far more grand than I do."

Caranthir is there, saying something to Maglor, and hears this, and tells Elrond, "You look like a eopleerson. Only super beautiful. Them two look like they're about to walk back into whatever fairy tale book they walked out of."

"Moryo," Maglor scolds his brother, and shoos him away with the flick of hand, as Elwing laughs.

After he leaves, Maglor gestures at Elwing regally and says, "I knew there was a 'bookland'. Have you let him see it before me?"

Elwing protests, amused, and tries to convince him there is no 'secret' world within books that she can magically visit. "I don't believe you," Maglor teases her, and she smiles. "If there are better singers there, I expect you to remember the songs and hum them for me."

At Olwe's Elrond speaks for Maglor in front of the shore people, and he sings and plays for them in repentance for the first kinslaying and the burning of the ships.

Earendil has no love for Olwe, who seems like an idiot, but he does like how he's never bothered Earendil overmuch at the docks. Also, he seems very polite to Elrond, and doesn't say anything political, despite this whole thing being extremely political.

Since Earendil doesn't really show up at elf functions, until just now, they make a big deal about him and Elwing being there. It's literally excruciating dealing with listening to their stupid speeches.

Gil-Galad eats with King Olwe separately, and the rest of them eat together in a private room with only their Feanorean servants waiting on them. It's fun, to be with everyone on these trips. Elrond and Maglor examine the food first, before Elrond [or of course his parents] tries it.

"I don't know how you guys do it," Earendil tells them, after the Feanorean servants go to eat on their own; he knows this is for Elwing and Earendil, so they can have more privacy, and maybe even for Elrond, too. "Listening to elves talk so much is rough."

Glorfindel nods, and they all smile. Elwing asks, "Do you think if I disappeared you could explain it away? Cause I almost did. It was that bad."

Elrond starts laughing.

"I always have Maglor think of music for me, with osanwe, but only the not-best pieces," Glorfindel tells them. "That way I can tolerate it."

"We need you to do that for us," Elwing tells Maglor seriously. "I'm dying here."

Maglor agrees to, and is amused.

Since they're by the water, the menu is all fish and ocean creatures of course. Compared to food at home, the fare is simple and plain. At least he's used to it, though, having always bought his food down at the stand on the docks for sailors.

The elves kind of pick at the food, while Earendil eats the crab cakes eagerly. Though honestly Glorfindel and Gil-Galad do eat more than normal elves, as does Elrond at times. Elwing does too, just in her often magical way. There are baked oysters, fried crab, grilled salmon with sauce, things like that.

Maglor of course plays for the king and the nobles here, that's the point. Earendil stays off in the guest rooms during it, since he'd just fall asleep in public if he was right there listening.

He can still hear Maglor playing from where he is, anyway. And Earendil doesn't need to hear every possible piece that he can, in the sense that Maglor plays for just him all the time, if he wants it. So it's on tap, really. Whereas for elves, it's not, [with a few exceptions], so they are more eager or desperate to hear his music.

Because staying over out here means he has to sleep on a normal bed, Maglor plays him a 'sleep' song to help him rest easier every night, so he can stay with them instead of going out to his ship to sleep in his hammock [he asks him to.] Gil-Galad is fun to travel with as well, as he's easy company, and never makes Earendil feel 'different'.

The journeys are always enjoyable and varied, and amusing things often happen. Being part of a group is really fun.

Eventually, Maglor comes over to see him and instead of loftily draping himself on the couch like usual, somberly says he must speak to Elwing right now, can he call her?

He does, in his heart, and she appears. Maglor speaks directly and only to her in osanwe, and she cries. [Not like an elf cries, but she makes a sad noise and rocks back and forth, without any eyes expelling water.]

Maglor then pulls her to a nearby sofa and holds her, and comforts her. He looks up at Earendil. "Come; help me," Maglor tells him, so he does. Neither of them are as good at comforting each other as Maglor is.

He doesn't ask what this is about – he's almost afraid to know. If only the elves knew how pathetic their 'hero' really is, huh, he thinks.

'She says I can tell you'," Maglor says to him with osanwe. 'I got a letter from Melian, saying she wanted me to tell Elwing that she was sorry. So I asked her if she wanted to hear what she said or not, and she said yes. It was all proper, apologies and all that.'

Earendil lays up against her back, so she's embraced, or protected, from all sides.

"Do you think she's just like me? Bad, but she wishes she weren't bad?" Elwing asks them.

That is, re the many mistakes both of them [and absolutely everybody else] made.

"You're not bad," Maglor says to her, firm. "I think Melian is simply dumber than elves are – so are all the maiar and valar. Who knows how much they truly understand about us, much less the complexities of our lives and world and cultures."

"I used to think of her as just evil," Elwing tells them. "But now I see the truth. I am as evil as her."

"No," both of them tell her concurrently, spontaneously.

"Absolutely not," Maglor says sharply.

"Do you think I should see her?" Elwing asks them.

Maglor hesitates. Earendil tells her, "Only if you want to. We could all be there."

"Other than me, but you know I am there in spirit for you," Maglor says.

Elwing sits back, and they let her go to do so. "I think it should be you and Elrond," she tells Maglor. "And Earendil. I want her to talk to me while she looks at what she did."

"It should be almost anybody but me," Maglor tells her seriously.

She convinces Maglor to come, and she and Elrond and him head out to see Melian together. Glorfindel comes too, but waits a ways away respectfully.

Melian is horrible to look at; a thing that is not real, he thinks. She is not like Elwing, who is a person who suffered. She is a monster.

All he feels to see Melian's magical self is disgust; he can't look at her mostly. She's worse than him and Elwing, and they have a terrible track record.

Elrond does most of the talking. Maglor stands behind them, in his 'he's Elrond's prisoner' look and act.

"My mother wishes to speak to you," Elrond tells Melian. He turns to Elwing, in a gesture of support.

"Why didn't you love me enough to help me?" Elwing says suddenly. "Is it cause I'm not good enough? Why did you let daddy die? Cause he was bad? I don't understand. You let that thrall you took as a whore-boy keep the stone the elves want. It was obvious they would come for it, or Morgoth would. And you just stayed here, while daddy and mommy and my brothers died? How could you leave your own family? Is it cause we're not as magical as you?"

"I went into a deep sleep here, after Elu died. And after I woke, all that was over. I didn't know what to do, anyway," Melian responds. "We are not supposed to influence the elves."

"Well, you fucked that up," Elwing says. She shakes her head. "You're worse than me. And I am worthless."

"You are gre – " Melian starts to say, but Elwing cuts her off.

"I'm nothing but a shell. You ruined me. And daddy is gone forever. How could you make a mixed up person like your daughter? She should have lived in Aman with the maiar, not over there with the elves. Her bad choices – and your bad choices – means my other son is gone forever," Elwing says, upset. "I know I wasn't a real mom. But I'm still sad."

"I am sorry, Elwing," Melian tells her. "We should have not been allowed to meet with elves, I think, now. At the time, I couldn't think. I couldn't stay conscious. I realized that my lack of intervention had led to Elu's death. By the time I came back to my senses, it was all over."

"I don't like how Elrond sees you, and Maglor plays for you," Elwing tells her. "Your fuckups are much more colassal than his, and yet you want him to do something for you? You? Of all people. You don't deserve it. I don't want you to hear him. I want to keep him and Elrond from you. You don't deserve to know Elrond. Your horrible fake blood lead to my other son being dead. You don't deserve anything."

"Then keep him from me," Melian tells her. Slowly over this time, she's sounded more and more sad. "I don't know what to do. I have no way to fix what I have done. I understand, that you cannot forgive me."

"But why don't you love me?" Elwing yells at her, anguished. "Why? Why am I not good enough for anybody, ever?"

"Mother," Elrond says to her, rushing to hug her. "You are better than good. You are great, you know we feel that way. Me and father, your mother, Earendil's parents, Maglor and Glorfindel. And Finno too, and more people."

"My grief subsumed me," Melian tells her. "I could not bear Elu's death, or my daughter's. I was ruined. I do not know you, but I can see these people truly love you. Do not take my failures and mistakes as some type of reflection of yourself. You are a good princess. I would do anything for you now, but it is too late. At least for me, I am consoled to see that you are loved by many. But you can always see me if you want."

They leave after that, Elwing seeming more calm. After they all rejoin Glorfindel, they ride home and Elwing says on the way, as a bird now, "That seemed good," to their collective surprise.

She also asks Maglor to please not play for new Doriath and Melian again, and that she will tell the Doriath people herself.

"I sent Thingol a card a while ago," Elwing adds. "I wrote 'I'm glad your daughter died, you deserved it.' "

"Whoa," Elrond says, and laughs in disbelief. "Mother, you are so concise. I hate him as much as you do. You always beat me to the punch in the game of wit."

"Did you send anybody else cards?" Maglor asks her, amused. "Because that's an idea I might expand upon, for my own family."

Elwing tells him happily, "I already sent one to your grandfather, and said he's lucky that the elves are pretending he's not evil, since he destroyed so many lives with his greed. I said he should be ashamed to show his face."

"Perfection, no notes," Maglor tells her, amused. Earendil can feel her pleasure at Elrond's and Maglor's approval.

At home everyone rests after such a stressful time. Elrond has them come stay near his study rooms in case they need him for any potions or anything, so they stay in one of Maglor's rooms near his. [Yes, there are some harps around in there, in this room.]

Elwing summons Maglor by asking him with osanwe, 'Will you come make me sleep? It feels good when you do it.'

So he oversees them getting into the bed in the room, and plays and sings for them.

Elwing and him stay over by Elrond's room for a while, so she can feel better about her confrontation with Melian.

It's kind of nice, to be in the thick of things. Maglor is always there, for the most part, unless he's over at Nelyo's house. Elrond and Glorfindel are nearby too.

It's weird to have people around all the time, but fun at the same time. And he can always go back to their room or to their houses if he wants, of course.

If they want, they can even eat with them all, all the time; Elrond invites them to. It's interesting to be there so much, and see them all interact naturally. This is all very different than when he first met them all, and stayed over in new Rivendell. Comparatively, they were all silent then.

Now they're their real selves, and Earendil is part of the group, not a weird new outlier they have to try to tolerate. They all treat Elwing the same, with total acceptance, like they've always known her.

Elwing often works on planning her 'special' effects for the dancing performances in new Rivendell with Glorfindel right there all the time. Eventually they go back and live in their houses, of course. But before that he sees all sorts of funny things he'd never have seen before: Glorfindel messing up Maglor's freshly washed [still short] hair to annoy him playfully [with him scolding him, saying that Glorfindel will have to wash it again for him then], Elrond coming back over in the morning from sleeping over in Gil-Galad's room, on the other side of town.

He's seen everybody eating breakfast while looking half-asleep. Sometimes Maglor even falls into reverie at the table, and Glorfindel sets him down on his daybed and puts his blankets on him.

Erestor will come by at times, and Elrond tells him to 'just say he's dead' to the other royals who want to talk to him. Or, 'can't you get some elf who looks like me to sub for me? Like, a tall one.'

"You are pretty short," Glorfindel muses, one such time looking at Elrond. "That seems weird, cause your dad is tall."

"I don't know if I really want to be tall," Elrond admits, after Erestor leaves him with the list of things he must make decisions about. "What if I had to lean down to get through some doorways? I'd forget and smack my head. That'd be so annoying."

"Do you think I could write to that Peng guy and demand he change the part in his book about me and Elwing?" Earendil asks them. They all look interested, and surprised.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I don't like how he wrote me. The creep."

"I like this idea," Elrond says, interested. "Even if he tries to stonewall us, which surely he will, we could make our own history book. Write it ourselves."

"I could write the Gondolin part," Glorfindel says, almost to himself.

So they all start working on that. Elwing works on the part about her, and the rest of them work on the parts about themselves. Weirdly, they all end up writing huge amounts, and then Elrond combines them into one book, transcribing it all himself.

"So what are we going to do in terms of sending it out?" Glorfindel asks them all one night, at dinner together in Elrond's rooms. "Who should get a copy?"

"Since I'm copying each volume, it's not going to go too fast," Elrond notes.

After everyone is done, Earendil reads one of the copies -- it's extremely interesting, to hear history from the point of view of the people who were there, and who also made it.

His and Elwing's he's already seen, of course, since they helped each other, and then asked Maglor to fix it up [in terms of the grammar and all that.] They didn't want Elrond to see how bad their writing really is ... and then realized maybe their handwriting should stay out of sight, cause they both have terrible, messy handwriting.

So Maglor copied theirs out for them in Sindarin, by his own hand, so it looked pretty [he has great writing, visually] and to protect their feelings.

Everyone writes in their own best language [Sindarin or Quenya], and then Elrond translated all of it into both, so they have a book in each language, for the people who can only read one language.

Even Nelyo wants to do it, to everybody's shock, so Finno does too, and helps him.

Earendil reads Elrond's first -- better to get that over with, he thinks, in case it makes him feel more sick than it's obviously naturally going to.

But Elrond's weirdly doesn't really mention anything real, and yet doesn't seem like he's skipping stuff at the same time. He says his early memories are of playing in Sirion, and then doing courtly lessons and music lessons with Maglor. And then Maglor bid him go to Lindon, to keep from the Feanorean mission and to return him to his people [in general.]

Elrond writes that even the Feanorean people rejoiced to see the silmaril safe and put above the world itself, so that all could see it's magnificence without there being more bloodshed for it -- and to keep it from Morgoth forever.

He says he and Elros were happy to see it too, to think their parents were in Aman together and retained their prize; that the Valar had not wrested it from them.

Then he writes about Gil-Galad and his court, and his vision that Glorfindel had come, and finding him. And then his vision of how he had to make and live in Rivendell. And on from there. He says his brother felt the Valar were a disappointment as a whole, and wanted to be free of eternal life under their thumb, and wanted to explore whatever is beyond mortal life, and so chose to die after ruling his special kingdom for a long time.

None of it's really a surprise to read, it's just ... still stressful, to go through it. Elrond doesn't actually say anything mean about anyone, instead he's quite neutral in a way that Earendil knows isn't honest -- he surely loved Maglor dearly, and cursed his parents then, and now too, even.

Then he reads Nelyo's account, as it will also be upsetting, just for different reasons. His is actually pretty simple, and doesn't go into his gruesome torture, or horrific death. Instead he notes that those things happened and keeps writing past those points, without emotion.

Then he reads Maglor's. His is the most interesting in terms of sheer style and 'what was the early world like' info. He describes what his life was like at the beginning, and of course includes a huge amount of information about music and harps. He's not just good at song lyrics, he's good at describing stuff.

Elrond goes to see a different Maia now, for magic lessons, in honor of Elwing saying she didn't want Melian to get to see him.

Eventually other elves learn of their 'rewriting history from our point of view' project, and contribute their own chapters – Nimloth, Tuor, Idril, Celegorm [his is absolutely crazy.]

As one can imagine, Pengolodh does not like his history book being undermined by some of the characters in it. He lives with Turgon in new Gondolin, and Turgon, they hear, tells him to watch his mouth, since so many of his own family members have contributed to the new project [Idril, Tuor, Earendil, etc.]

Eventually, even Miriel sends in her own writings, saying to Elrond that she doesn't like how everyone else comments on her, yet no one has read her own opinions on her own life.

Finno can't talk about what happened on the ice still, so Maglor writes that part for him, saying how brave the people were and how perilous it was, and then Finno signs off on it, after getting upset for many days due to thinking of it at all. [Elrond helps him with extra treatments, to try to soothe him, and redirect his mind's centering on his trauma.]

Earendil spends a lot of time with Elrond and Maglor now, more than before. Sometimes he and Elwing eat almost every meal with them.

Elrond often talks about what books he's reading, Glorfindel talks about the latest scores in sports games [that he either watches or engages in himself – or his latest fashion interests], and Maglor talks about whatever songs he's been recently working on.

Other than that, they just gossip.

Apparently Amras often comes to Maglor and Nelyo to tell them the latest rumors, which they then share with their closest circle. Earendil goes up to Nerdanel's house at times, and also gets to see Feanor's original country estate. Now though, Maglor insists they eat 'like savages' and have no servants, which Nerdanel and Feanor actually enjoy and find amusing, as they both love their work too much to be that interested in having pages everywhere.

They have them, they just don't use them all the time, really. It's still more than Earendil would do, but compared to a more boring Noldor elf, it's nothing [like Finarfin.]

Elwing continues her work in art, and her star gazing, both with Elrond. Glorfindel shows her his paintings, leading her to tell Earendil afterwards in private that, "He needs serious help. These pictures are deranged. We should get Elrond involved."

"Well, how bad is bad – " he begins to say, and then Elwing shows him in his mind. " … Oh."

She said it in an understatement, really. It's some crazy shit.

They go to Maglor and Elrond to speak about it, and they both laugh uncontrollably. Maglor literally tips over onto his side, unable to stop for a moment.

Finally, Elrond says to them, "That art is Glorfindel's old interest. He is always making odd things. He has a strange passion for it that we don't really understand. This is normal. Maglor has all of his work, you know, up in his music building."

"Really?" Elwing asks Maglor, in disbelief. "You should burn it."

Maglor looks very taken by this idea, and sighs in the pleasure of amusement. "I am afraid this is something we must tolerate. Like me and my many harps. Everyone has some odd interest, well, anyone worth knowing. And this is his."

"I asked him about it," Elwing tells him. "He said he likes making pictures that look like what he thinks magic should look like. … But I told him that's not accurate. And that he should stop making such hideous canvases. Then he said he'd sold them all, so clearly people disagreed with me. I told him you'd bought them all."

Maglor gasps in surprise, and Elrond looks taken aback, too.

"He didn't believe me," Elwing continues. "I told him, I could see it in your mind. That you did it for love of him, so he would feel good, to cheer him up all the time. He was very happy to know this. He cried. He told me that I should tell you he knows, because he felt embarrassed."

Maglor looks gripped with emotion, at this revelation.

"He's down in his art room cause he thinks no one will look for him there," Elwing tells him.

Maglor goes, of course. After he leaves, Elwing tells them, "I didn't mean to tell Glorfindel, at first. But he was in one of his sad moods. I felt sorry for him; I wanted him to feel better. So I told him all this. Then he felt better. It worked."

"Mother," Elrond says, bemused, almost in protest.

"I know," Elwing tells him. "Nothing can fix being sad. But I couldn't resist. It felt too good, to make him feel better. And I know it makes Maglor feel good, to try to be more open about how he feels, about him."

Elrond nods, looking rueful. "I know that feeling. There's nothing better than being a healer. Well, I guess other than literally saving lives as a warrior. But that's not quite my speed."

Maglor does not come back, that day.

Lots of the elves are actually going hunting, so Elwing goes off to see their parents [her sole one and both of his], and he goes with Elrond and the group.

When he next sees Maglor, it's the day after at his usual 'lesson', in his house. "You won't believe what this letter said, that I got," Maglor exclaims, coming in and sinking onto the divan like an actor, somehow.

"What?" he asks. He can tell it's not serious, because if it were he doubts Maglor would be over at his house – he'd be out dealing with whatever it was.

"It's my music building. It has to be rebuilt again," Maglor says mournfully. "I know that's normal, but … I don't know. I have to approve the new plans for what it's going to look like. It's seems almost sad, I guess, to change it."

Earendil considers this. "Well, couldn't you make it even better?"

"Like how?" he asks him.

"I don't know, just some design you like," Earendil shrugs.

Maglor hmms.

"Do you know the stars make music?" he adds. "I keeping forgetting to mention it. You should go with me, up into the sky on my ship, and see what you think of it."

Maglor looks discombobulated. "What does it sound like?" he asks.

Earendil shrugs again. "I don't know how to describe it. Like ringing soft tones, I guess."

"I don't think I can go up there," Maglor tells him. "So high. I'm just a normal elf. But … I suppose we could get around that. What if you let your ship float up to the sky, with a wax sound cylinder recorder on it, and then Elwing and you made it float back down. Then we'd have a record of the noise, without having to go up there."

Earendil tries not to laugh. "It's a ship, not a balloon. I don't think it'd go up like that, on its own."

"But couldn't Elwing push it up that way, like how you'd tap a floating balloon?" Maglor asks him.

"We'll have to ask her," he admits. … It turns out she can do that easily, so they get their recording of 'star noise'.

Maglor finds it very interesting.

When he next has to rebuild his ship, he gets Maglor to come with him and stay on his old boat as they work on the new one.

Gil-Galad and Cirdan help him construct the new one, directing the elves helping them [Maglor just stays on his old ship and writes music the whole time, as one might assume], and at night Maglor rubs his back for him [building the new ship is very tiring] and his feet, and brushes his hair, and Elwing's, when he lays down after they eat dinner together with Elwing on the big sofa in his quarters. It's heavenly.

[Later on, he wakes up and gets into the hammock together with Elwing and sleeps more.]

He and the others rinse off at the actual build site, so it lulls him to sleep honestly, this soft, soothing touching. And it's more than that, it's like it's his energy. The feeling of both of it together feels like getting high on [protective, parental-style] love and comfort.

Gil-Galad and Cirden eat dinner separately with Olwe. Thankfully Earendil has the excuse of not wanting to leave his ship, and also he's never done things with the elves, so he's free in general. And everyone either hopes Maglor won't come to Olwe's [see: politics], or will [see: him playing music.]

And then he and Elwing sleep in his hammock together, and Maglor lays down on the very large couch nearby to go into reverie.

Gil-Galad's servants stay at the docks in the mansion the shore elves built for Cirdan, and make them food and drinks, and bring it to Earendil's old ship for them. Maglor has Gil-Galad's people bring him a list of ingredients so he can check it for any foodstuffs that didn't exist in middle Earth. [At other times, he and Elrond do this in advance of events; people say it's because Maglor and Elrond are such discerning gourmets, that they want to know. Earendil likes that no one knows the real reason, as it's uncomfortable to be so eternally unusual.]

Some at first act like they'll stay as servants during their meals, but Maglor dismisses them, and when they look to Earendil to see if he agrees, he nods to them. Maglor's only sending them away for him and Elwing, he knows, so that they'll be more comfortable.

Sometimes Elwing's falcon visits them. Also, baby owls do too at times, or young ones.

Maglor loses it over them, thinking they are the cutest things in creation. "Are you seeing how fuzzy they are?" he demands to the two of them, as he gazes at one, rapt. "Look at this!"

Elwing tells him, pointing to one of the owls, "I told him you said that, and he said thank you. He doesn't think you look good cause you have such short hair. They know the elves have long hair, usually."

Maglor laughs.

"You should try a hammock again," Earendil tells him. Cause Elrond had said he'd fallen out of the one Feanor made Earendil, that sits in Maglor's music building.

Maglor looks over at it with a suspicious look. "I'll keep you from falling," Elwing tells him. "C'mon."

Earendil walks over and gets in on his own, and Maglor hesitantly walks up to it. "I'll hold you in it, so you won't tip out."

He tries to pull himself in, and Elwing magically helps him off the ground as Earendil steadies him. And then Maglor is successfully laying in a hammock, half on top of Earendil. "Relax," Elwing says to him.

Maglor is very small against him. He slowly does get less anxious; Earendil can feel him calm down, and lean more comfortably into his embrace. He doesn't smell like his cologne from home; he just smells like himself, softly elf-y.

"I feel like a little leaf in an unstable tree," Maglor tells him while still clinging to him. "I can't imagine how you can sleep in this contraption. I'm too delicate for this. Will you rescue me, Princess?"

Elwing snorts, laughing, and helps him out and onto the floor so he won't fall.

Thankfully, Maglor manages the servants that Gil-Galad has go to them. It's just easier that way; he always knows what to say, and how to say it. A few of his own came too, in case he needed anything serious, and they often stop by, but are more discreet and don't bother them as much.

When the three of them working stop to have a midday lunch break, they go see Maglor together on his ship. Cirdan is eager to hear Maglor play, having never heard him before, other than his music at concerts [by other people] in new Rivendell.

Maglor first tells Cirdan he is honored to see him; he calls him Lord Nowë.

"I am in great desire to hear your music, child of Finwe's blood," Cirdan tells him. "Many have spoken of it, and I have seen players attempt it, but I imagine by thine own hand, it rings different. "

Maglor looks pleased. "You can judge for yourself."

He doesn't say 'well, I flatter myself that it does', but Earendil has a feeling he was thinking it. He speaks to Cirdan much more formally than he talks to Earendil or Gil-Galad, or Finarfin, or a lot of people, really.

He plays and sings for them every day, and Cirdan is very overwhelmed, overcome, overwrought. This is typical for elves when they first hear Maglor's music – and all the time, actually.

The first time, Cirdan is out of commission for a long while, unable to snap back to normal.

Finally all he says is, "It's like the trees."

He must mean the glow-y ones that are why they have no sun and moon any longer, he thinks. [Earendil was happy to give up Elwing's/his [stolen] silmaril to the Valar when the world was remade so that they could bring it to Feanor in the halls, and then take him somewhere non-ghostly, and have him break them to recreate the trees.]

Afterwards, it takes longer for Earendil to get back to work, obviously. Because Cirdan is rather new to Maglor's music, in a sense, he has a hard time getting it together as well, which is helpful in that it's not just him that's wiped out by it.

After they emerge back out from the ship to go off and keep working, they of course find that that everyone there, the sailors, local people and dockhands, et cetera, are all sitting there outside, nearby, to listen. And are stilled, struck dumb, in shock from how Maglor's music always leaves you wiped out.

He knows the feeling.

These types of people wouldn't be ones who'd heard Maglor play before, obviously [in ancient times, or nowadays]. Only kings and queens usually do, and that type of bretheren, in terms of hearing he himself.

He and Cirdan and Gil-Galad go and work on his new ship, walking past all these people, and eventually the crowds of elves disperse on their own.

But the shore elves all come back of course, twice a day, when Maglor plays and sings on his old ship for him. [He plays once at lunch, and then later at tea time, and then not at dinner because Cirdan eats with Gil-Galad separately from Earendil, who eats on his old ship with Maglor and Elwing.]

At times Maglor asks him questions about the building, mostly when he rubs his feet for him. [At dinner, Maglor doesn't bother him with questions, because he's so tired and hungry; and Elwing already knows all this, so she just engages with Maglor then, understanding like Maglor does.] Sometimes he forgets what he's asking entirely because it all feels so good.

Maglor would be a great healer, he thinks, if healing just means making people feel good.

He makes Earendil lay down on the sofa with a soft pillow, does his neck and back first, and then puts his feet up on a pillow, and rubs them with linament, and wraps them with cool cloths, and puts some cloths on the rest of him, too. And then before he sleeps he brushes his hair and sometimes plays for him again.

"What do you have left to do?" Maglor asks him, as he massages his feet. It turns out being that good at the harp makes your hands and fingers super strong.

It feels so good that it's like an out of body experience.

A while after, when he realizes he spoke, Earendil answers him slowly from his comfy place on the couch, under his hands. "Well, you know we did the keel, the front and back frames, the ribs, the basic skeleton already. The hull must be done first. Then we cover it. That's what we're doing now."

"Like wrapping a present," Maglor muses. "Honestly, I am almost surprised any boats float. It seems quite impressive, to have such a big, heavy thing float about. Don't tell my father, he'll make me re-learn physics and engineering, and I had enough of that back then. What happens next with your work?"

"After this we have to do the decks, and the caulking, and then tar it again," he adds. "Then painting. And after that we roll it into the water, and work on the masts, spars and rigging, and put the sails up."

While Maglor tends to him, sometimes Elwing is out and about doing stuff, and sometimes she lays next to him on the couch so that Maglor will gently touch her too, only much lighter [so that it's 'proper', he says, and makes her keep her clothes on, whereas Earendil takes off his shirt] and not actually like the massage that Earendil's physical labor 'necessitates'.

Maglor was appalled when he said no one's ever done that before, and said he can't just keep working without any relaxation for his muscles. … It sounded like nonsense when he first said it. Now Earendil isn't sure he can live without it.

It is very tiring, to work on his ship. He's so exhausted from it the whole time, every time, that he can't even couple with Elwing during these months. Maglor had warned them when he first got on the boat that since he 'already has to put up with Finno and my brother being so energetic, don't even think about getting any ideas of a romantic nature about each other while I'm here. Have me leave the ship if that's what you're feeling – I can go play for Cirdan.'

They had tried to explain to him that the work was too intense for Earendil to even be able to get it up in the first place, which seemed to prelcude a lot as far as they both understand it, but Maglor had waved them off and said he wouldn't put anything past two magical people. So they promised not to get naked together while he was there.

"Is it weird, to have me here while you work?" Maglor asks him the next day, at the same time as he attacks his feet again with his hands. It feels amazing.

"I was usually by myself," Earendil murmurs. "It took way longer."

A big team of normal mariner elves had helped him of course, but still he had liked to check everything himself. It had been a lot of work. He looks at everything Cirdan and Gil-Galad do also, but that's more like as they share their accomplishments, not checking that it's to his satisfaction. Hell, Cirdan invented what he learned, so if he does it, or Gil-Galad who he trained as his favorite does it, then it's good.

"I am happy to be here," Maglor tells him, after pausing with his hands for a moment, and then continuing.

"It's nice, to have you," Earendil adds quietly.

It's nice to have Elwing too. It's not like she didn't come by on purpose before; she was almost dead in her tower, of grief and the desire to die. And so was he, but his purpose gave him the will to live on, and get up [ … sometimes, at least.]

"You know I like to be with you," Maglor tells him. It's probably puerile, but it's nice, when he says gentle things to him. It's still exciting to have people talk to him at all, much less like this. "And so do we all. I'd have Glorfindel come, but I know I would end up tossing him overboard. It would distract you all from your work."

"You don't mind … being here?" Earendil asks. Honestly, he'd thought Maglor would say he wouldn't come with him due to the past of the shore and shipyards.

Obviously, Maglor's crazy time here with his family in the past was probably very scarring, it was total chaos and hysteria and violence, exponentially.

"No, my dear," Maglor tells him. "My family's not here, so it's fine. Being here with you is enjoyable. Anything involving my family is not. It looks a little different, anyhow. Almost as if I didn't do all that, back then. At least I can console myself to think that I was often pushing people back or into the water with my power, and didn't slay too many on that first day of blood."

"I feel bad for you," Earendil tells him. "Your father shouldn't have wanted you to fight. He is a bad person. I get why, but still."

"Thank you," he says simply. "The funny part is that I'm not exactly warrior material. I feel like if Glorfindel had been with us back then he would have said to my father, 'really? him?', about me, because Celegorm and Nelyo are much stronger than me. Though Nelyo is a sweet person, and I get angry all over again to think of how my father's choices lead to what happened. And Finwe's. Damn them both."

"Yes," Earendil agrees.

Elwing is out today, visiting her mother and also Galadriel. He asks Maglor for a sleep song later when he goes to rest in his hammock, since it can be a little harder to fall asleep without Elwing by him. Maglor plays, and it seems like he wakes up right after.

But it's because he slept so immediately, he realizes. He gets up out of his hammock; Maglor is still in reverie on the sofa, under his blanket.

He looks so weak and vulnerable like this, compared to how he thinks of him, as powerful, commanding, witty and knowledgable, and Elrond's better, third, parent. Earendil puts another blanket on him. It just seems right to.

Servants leave meal trays for them on his ship, so he goes out and gets one, and brings it in. There's tea on it and a lot of hearty breakfast food; he eats and watches to see if Maglor wakes up before he leaves.

After he has his last cup of tea, Maglor seems to become alert, and looks over at him.

"I'm sure if Glorfindel were here, he'd say eat something," Earendil tells him.

Maglor gives him a sulky look. He walks over to him and sits on the couch beside him for a moment. "I'm gonna head out," Earendil tells him. "Are you good?"

"Yes," Maglor says. "Have fun with your friend. And the old guy."

Earendil smiles, and says okay, and leaves. Maglor sometimes talks like that, like he's a little boy that in this instance is going off to play with his friends.

Kano is so old that he thinks of Gil-Galad as some child that likes Elrond, who is an even younger child. But Cirdan is and was ancient to all elves, even if he'd started shaving his beard off before the remaking, and now doesn't have one, being freshly young again in body.

Earendil goes over to the build site and works.

Cirdan asks him every so often if he really thinks and/or is sure that Maglor will stay on his old ship until the work is finished on the new one; and he keeps saying he thinks so.

And today Earendil tells him, as they work near each other on the ship, "After we go home to new Rivendell, you could always come and stay there if you wanted. Maglor plays all the time there. I'm sure Elrond wouldn't care."

"Would Makalaure?" Cirden asks him. "I was not on his side, in the old days."

Earendil shakes his head. "I don't think he sees you as being involved in that, but what do I know," he acknowledges. "He does like to play for people who are interested in hearing it, so I think he'll be into it."

"Can you ask him for me?" Cirdan says. "But make it hypothetical."

"Yeah, I will," he agrees. He reaches out right then with osanwe, and Maglor is pleased to hear Cirdan cares for his songs that much, and says of course he should come along and stay at Elrond's and listen all the time.

A little bit later, he's near Cirdan again, and reports that Maglor already said yes.

Cirdan looks bemused and befuddled, so he adds, "I asked him with osanwe."

"You talk in that with him?" Cirdan says, surprised.

"Yes," he explains.

Cirdan just looks at him, taken aback. "You open your mind to him?" he finally asks.

"We're pretty close," Earendil says, and decides to leave it at that, cause that sums it up. It's true.

Even Elrond has told him that Maglor favors him and Elwing, and that Maglor rarely [deeply] likes other people.

Earendil knows that not all elves use osanwe or are good at it, but he and Elwing have always used it. That probably helped him get better at it. And also Idril had used it with him, when he was a boy, and Maglor is an elf of the old blood, with real spiritual power [compared to regular elves], so it's probably easy for him; same for Glorfindel, who is extremely formidable in terms of his glowing spirit. It's kind of funny that he's such an interesting, nuanced person, who happens to be super powerful.

With Elrond it's easy to use, though they rarely do, because of how they 'just' met in the comparative sense.

When they get to the point of being done with ship building, and now just painting is needed, Elrond comes to visit them as they celebrate having gotten this far, and take a break from their work. [While Earendil doesn't care so much about the decorative 'pretty' top coat of paint, he damn well sure cares about everything else, and even the underpainting. The earlier stuff is what keeps you alive on the sea.]

Elrond stays with his paramour Gil-Galad in Cirdan's big house at the shore. It's fun to add him into the mix, and listen to him speak to Cirdan, who he greatly esteems for his ancient wisdom.

When Earendil is done with his new ship, which happens relatively quickly after this, they [Maglor, Elrond, Gil-Galad, Earendil and Cirdan too] go home.

Elrond shows him the new shade garden that his elves have built – so that in summertime, one can enjoy a garden in dappled sunlight, with plants that thrive from a lack of intense sun.

Earendil spends most days just resting on the big couch in his house all the time now. Once in a while Elrond joins him, or Elwing, Maglor, Glorfindel too. Maglor still rubs his feet for him, and everything, to help him recover from his long toil.

Everyone comes and eats with him at his house at different times, which is nice.

At one point Finno and Nelyo come and ask how it was, his work, and what he thinks, if he's satisfied with how it turned out.

Cirden stays over in new Rivendell in order to listen to Maglor's music all the time [at the concerts and by Maglor's own voice and hand, which he does often for him], which makes Gil-Galad happy, as he is his foster father. And Cirdan is someone Earendil cares for, but in a more sailing mentor way – to Gil-Galad, he's the father who raised him, that he loves and didn't always get to spend time with before.

After some weeks pass, Gil-Galad and Elrond get letters from Olwe, saying the common people want Maglor to come back and play for them specifically, on the docks again – not [just] the king's court like he already does, and has done many times before.

"Well, we've got more time, now that we're not doing Doriath," Maglor remarks calmly, as they discuss it. "And it's not like I don't owe the people at the ships."

[Earendil is included in the talk because he's the one who's always at the docks in the first place, he assumes.]

"This would set a precedent," Gil-Galad muses. "This type of 'populist outreach via a king' hasn't really happened before. And the people didn't demand it in recompense, at least in this letter; they asked for it out of desire."

They all debate it.

"Well, we could claim it was in reparation," Elrond says. "Otherwise, what if more people start asking for this?"

"You do have dibs," Maglor tells Elrond, amused, and they both smile.

It's a joke, but not. Elrond really does, because Maglor loves him the best. And also the weird 'Elrond keeps Malgor here in revenge' nonsense/rumor exists.

Eventually they decide to simply deal with it as it happens. If they get letters [ … and they will], they will handle them in chronological order.

He sees Caranthir in the library again one day when he's bored; the guy seems like he's always in there, in his private room.

When he says hey and peeks in, Moryo waves him in, and says to him, exasperated, "Where have you been? Kano's boy said you went with Kano to build a boat – why would you do that yourself? That's stupid, have builders do it for you. And what use would Kano be in that, anyway, he's not exactly some beefed up muscle person. I mean look at him."

Earendil tries to tamp down his amusement. It's obvious from Moryo's visual look and non-verbal manner/behavior that he missed his visits.

"I like Maglor a lot," he says simply. "I just wanted to spend time with him. And my ship is mine. I like to work on it myself."

Caranthir boggles at him. "Does your wife know about that? She'll probably turn you into something gross, like a bat."

He smiles. "She knows. She was there too. She likes Maglor."

Moryo looks appalled. "What is going on with you two and Kano? People say you've got some weird orgy thing happening."

Caranthir is one of the only elves with enough balls to actually ask, instead of just gossiping about it. Earendil much prefers the direct question to the other.

"No, nothing so interesting," Earendil explains, and laughs. "But I can't wait to tell Maglor that people say that. He's going to be so outraged. He'll probably say we don't have the musical appreciation level required to get with him. Anyway, my wife doesn't care for elves."

Caranthir looks shocked. "Really?"

"Have you ever liked one?" Earendil asks him, and Moryo considers the question.

"Well, I mean … " Moryo says. "Of course. It's natural. It's not like some of the ladies aren't appealing. But no one would look at me in the first place, for a million reasons. So it doesn't matter anyway."

Eventually Elrond decides to invite famous writers to new Rivendell once in a while, to give talks and in general just be celebrated. Moryo spends a lot of time talking to Elemmírë, in particular, but other writers too.

Each time, Maglor takes the opportunity to have Earendil learn who each person is [in literary terms], so in this case he reads the Aldudénië.

Eventually they have many people come, like Rumil, Quennar, and others. [But not Peng. Ha.] Elemmírë comes back over and over, and he and Caranthir talk a lot.

This gets Ingwë more involved in seeing new Rivendell, of course, since the Vanyar don't often involve themselves with anything outside their borders, Indis and Elenwë nonwithstanding.

Typically none of them have any contact with that group, other than Idril and Earendil with Elenwë, of course. The Vanyar [Maglor told him once that they call themselves the Minyar and the Ingwer] haven't heard Maglor play before, and since Ingwë was called the high King of the elves, and probably still is, he wants to hear him after finding out all the other Aman royals have [Earendil doesn't know and also doesn't care re his royal title/status. Probably Maglor would know, and Elrond, but he doesn't bother asking.]

Of course after Ingwë hears Maglor play, he has some of his nobles come over and hear it themselves, and they all ask him if Manwe gave him too gifts of song and wordsmithing, like he did their faction.

"How odd," Elrond mentions one day at tea with Earendil and the rest of the usual suspects, "to see the Vanyar leave Valimar, and Oiolossë."

'That's Taniquetil,' Maglor says to Earendil with osanwe. The big mountain, where Ilmarin is, he remembers. 'Valimar is the city of bells, we call it.'

Maglor often tells him extra info with osanwe, in case he doesn't know things. … He almost never knows old elven things, so that's helpful.

"I suppose I should be proud, to have drawn them out of their hallowed halls," Maglor says, amused. "But all I am doing is worrying that Moryo will offend Elemmírë."

It's a toss up.

The guy did tell Earendil that this Elemmírë person is 'amazing, unmatched', [and made him read some of his poems, and then explained all the words Earendil didn't know in such old Quenya], so Moryo's probably trying his best at least.

Maglor doesn't make him read such difficult material. He is more gentle, which is ironically fitting for both of their reputations. He goes more slowly, showing Earendil things once in a while, and making it easy for him to learn about it all. Moryo's more like a 'go jump in the deep, good luck' guy, but he does help him when he asks him questions.

Eventually it turns out this Elemmírë character wants to see Feanor's famous forging building [let's face it, everything about Feanor and his family is famous, and even his enemies want to see such famous stuff/people] so Moryo takes him there and has him meet his parents.

"I am relieved to see Moryo gone," Maglor tells Earendil one afternoon in Maglor's own rooms in town, draped across the couch on the big pillows. Not very elf-like at all, really, yet still elegant somehow. Maglor is like that. "All I need is him getting Elrond or someone angry. I am afraid of what I would do then … but at least it wouldn't really be seen as violence. I mean not if it's us versus us, right? That's like us doing everyone a favor."

Earendil smiles. Maglor is always like this, humorous. He is a fun person to be around. "Did I tell you that Caranthir says that some of the elves think you're doing some kind of fooling around, at night, with me and Elwing?"

Maglor looks beyond appalled. "You're little kids," he says immediately. "What manner of wicked do they all think I am?! Honestly. I'm bad, but I'm not that bad. And you're even married, you two are. Unbelievable. It's like they think nothing is beyond me. … I mean I get it, I get why, but still. I'm offended."

He says it so exasperatedly that Earendil laughs; Maglor gives him a mild scolding look.

"I think we're pretty old now," he points out.

"Not for me, though," Maglor corrects.

It always seems like the fact that he and Elwing have been old for a long time now doesn't even register with Maglor. He still tells them nowadays to put on extra socks, don't be in the sun too long [he knows of how Elrond tires in it and gets sunburn.] But it's not annoying, it's just nice. It's been a very long time since anybody talked like that to either of them, or thought of them in that kind of protective, caring way, and they like it. [Their parents have too much respect for them to act like that.]

It is winter now, so Maglor is dressed up very weirdly, in too many layers. He looks like a doll that a child put a million pieces of clothing on. Now that it's a little colder out, he rarely goes outside for an extraneous purpose.

There was already a fire going in the fireplace when he came in, which makes sense just based on the amount of clothes Maglor has on; he often seems cold in general.

Maglor always wears a lot of clothes – people probably think it's cause he's a royal, and some of them do that, because so many robes [and the often also included zillion pieces of jewelry] are incredibly expensive and time consuming to be made, sewed and embroidered, but he knows Maglor only does it for warmth. He's still wearing colors now, which feels freshly shocking each time he sees him.

Like Finno and Nelyo, Maglor does not do any 'winter' events or activities, it seems. He always stays inside.

For them there are no snow angels [as Tuor would say], no snowball fights, no sledding, no going on a big sleigh pulled by horses for fun, no skiing or anything. Elrond invites Earendil and Elwing to do all the things, and Glorfindel does them too, and many other elves.

Sometimes they will go off and do these things together, and then all come back together to Elrond's rooms and tell Maglor what happened; he is usually there, writing music – or he is at Nelyo's house.

In the winter Earendil comes to see him in Elrond's rooms, at times. For his 'lessons', and just to see everyone and hang out.

During this type of season, Elrond is busy often in the winter greenhouses. This morning before he went to check on them, Earendil asked what they grow in this time of year, and he said, "Medical plants, many green leaf vegetables like lettuces, and things like beets and carrots."

Earendil has seen the huge areas of gardens before. There are composting areas, which give off heat, and all the specific plots for raised gardens – endless rows of plants. There are the fallow fields, then one for spring planting and one for autumn planting. And obviously the buildings that solely exist to can and dry food to preserve it in case of emergency, or just for the kitchens to use.

He has seen it all – the one section with asparagus, tomato and basil, the one with cabbage and things like that, the rows of corn stalks, the peas and beans and carrots, the peppers near onions, the potato area near the eggplant, the squashes near the herbs.

The medical plants are kept in another area for Elrond and his healing teams. There are herb gardens as well, for the kitchens' use, and flower gardens just for cut flowers for everyone, especially for Gil-Galad and Elrond's rooms, and all the royals' houses. Pages leave flowers for Earendil on his porch, and they leave them for Elwing a ways away from her house [as she asked that random [or servant] elves don't come near her home.]

Elrond has even shown him his 'moon garden' in the past, one night, aptly, which has pools of water and pale light-colored flowers that only open at night. "This is the fruit of my people's ingenuity," Elrond had explained to him then. "Their creativity, their love of invention. I ask many to visit it at times, and think of what we could improve it with."

He told him all the plant names, but Earendil only remembers some of them, like gardenias, jessamine, vala's trumpet, a bunch of flowers with 'night' in the name, moonflower, and lots of white or silver flowers.

There is also a butterfly garden and gardens for the royals to walk in, as beautiful created landscapes to enjoy, with bosquets. There are some water-focused gardens as well.

And Glorfindel has taken him to see the more weird gardens, the unusual 'artsy' ones, that look crazy. … Glorfindel thinks they are amazing. Earendil's taste tends towards the more traditional, he thinks, and nods along.

Elwing has seen much of all the same thing regarding the gardens, just with other elf ladies, as she tries to make lady friends. Thankfully Eärwen and Anairë, and Galadriel too, are apparently pleased to come to new Rivendell often and see her, which is nice of them.

Maglor is asked to accompany them at times, if Elwing tells him she would like it – or now more commonly if one of the ladies is brave enough [Artanis isn't included here, obviously, she is already very confident and Maglor says it's obvious that at times the other ones ask her to ask him] to ask to hear Maglor play for just them.

[The elves seem to consider it a great thing, something rarefied, even to ask for it, seeming afraid of Maglor for non-kinslaying, non-murder, non-son of Feanor reasons, for once.]

Because Maglor doesn't want to travel during the winter, yet people want to hear him play, some elves have asked if they can come to new Rivendell to hear him personally, instead of him traveling to their court. Elrond and Gil-Galad eventually approve this after they all discuss it at length, and set it up so only a few people from anywhere are here specifically for Maglor himself at any time. That way it's not intense or tiring for him.

"Do you mind, how you're playing all the time for people now?" Earendil asks him, in Maglor's rooms, when he comes to see him one chilly day.

Maglor shrugs in a very Elrond-esque way.

"No. I like playing," he says straightforwardly. "I don't mind if people are there. And it does us well politically, and well for amends."

"That was so long ago now," Earendil argues. "Few people think of it."

It's true, he thinks. It's been forever since the remaking, even.

Maglor laughs, and smiles. "Do you think, if someone had hurt Elrond, that I would wave that off? Even now? And what if they were famous, and killed lots of people – I mean what if the person had a reputation. Ironically, I'm not talking about myself. I mean as a hypothetical situation. Obviously, I did hurt Elrond, just in a byzantine way … and also a bulldozing a city way. But still, I would never forget it, if someone took a blade to him. I would harbor hate inside my viscera itself forever. He is my little boy, in my unconscious heart. Well, and my conscious one. Just that he's yours first, there. I am happy to have any part of him, now."

"Me and Elwing are the ones who really wronged him," he counters. "How you must think of us."

Maglor frowns at him. "Child, you two were little then. You did better than other children would have, thrust into those roles. None of that should have happened. That is not your fault."

"I hate how everyone else got away with everything, but then me and Elwing are the ones stuck with no family," Earendil tells him. "Finwe has like a million people, that fucker. Everyone else is all good, everyone's families are great. Except us."

There is no Elros, and no Dior. And Elwing never knew her mom, and has had to remeet her, basically. [And then her brothers, after the remaking.] That's been a long road. Also, Earendil feels very separated from his own parents – he loves them, but he's been pretty alone in his own life for so long. It's not their fault. It's just how it is.

And Elrond …

"We don't even know Elrond," he says quietly. "He's just some guy. But I am happy he had a parent. You were better than me at that stuff – are, really. But I am just sad … that it wasn't me or Elwing at all."

"It's not fair," Maglor says to him, seriously.

He nods. Sometimes it's just nice to have someone agree with him. He knows that Maglor is on their side – in the real way, not in the 'you guys are perfect one dimensional heroes/symbols who aren't actual people' way.

And Maglor understands extreme suffering, like they do. He lost Nelyo twice to horrible death [the first one being living death, obviously], and all his family, and his father to madness, and his mother to leaving their continent. And he lost his own health and mind when he was 'dead' on the shore.

So when he says something, it doesn't feel condescending.

"I am happy Princess Elwing got her brothers back," Maglor adds, "and that Lord Tuor is here. And that you two are with Elrond once more, as it should have been."

"Yes," he agrees.

Earendil does not say, but thinks, and you too, who was thought dead or lost in middle Earth forever, like Daeron.

Maglor sometimes says he 'deserves Daeron's fate', that they should switch. It's upsetting to hear, because Maglor is important to him, and Elwing too. He's like a unique needed addition to their life, an extra person in their 'assoc. of Elrond parents' group. He's a crucial member, and not just because of Elrond-related reasons.

He is the one they can reply upon to help them with so many things, without having to seem even lesser [is it possible, ha] before Elrond. Or ask their own parents, who've done so much already, who they don't always like to bother. It can be weird to ask people they don't know very well for stuff.

Maglor smooths things for them in all different ways, quietly, making everything easier and more comfortable. And it seems natural when he does it, not like he's helping them at all, or putting more focus on them and their differences.

So no one knows Maglor is doing something at all, much less for them. He even interfaces with elves for them randomly, or accompanies them if they have to deal with elves, if they ask him to. It's really a game changer. Maglor knows everybody, and also knows about everything. He knows how to talk to these people, how to deal with them. People don't argue with him, saying why won't he consent to a statue of him being built [something that really happened to Earendil once], elves just obey him immediately.

He speaks to elves with with this tone of authority, he commands. They never question him.

He knows Maglor does this for his brother too – if Nelyo doesn't feel well, Maglor immediately gives him an out by saying he himself is 'feeling sick like before', and 'needs Finno and his brother to take care of him'.

Since Maglor was actually sick for a long time here in Valinor before the remaking, nobody really thinks this is abnormal. The elves are used to it.

"I was afraid, before," he tells Maglor, who comes over to him and holds him now, just to be comforting, he knows, to show he loves him. It feels very restful, to be loved in this platonic way, that is also possessive.

"I have been that myself, in the past, almost the whole time," Maglor tells him, and makes him lay down on a pillow against him.

" … I was scared my father would die and be gone forever – and then I realized that me too, could leave forever," Earendil explains. "We'd never see mother again. How terrible. And where would we go? And be? Would we be together? I feared the future. I sound like a coward, I know. But I so resent being born with this different blood. The elves' children don't think of this when they are little kids, I assume. They know that even if they die, they will be together in Mandos, and then together in Aman. All but us. And it was a ticking clock. I almost wanted to make sure I died early just to get it over with … the fear of it, the not-knowing of it."

Maglor strokes his hair, neck. "My little darling. I am sorry you had to suffer so. It is wrong that a child would have to think of something so existential and scary, and destabilizing."

"I didn't want to be special," he says into Maglor's robe. "I don't want to be now, either."

"I know, my dear," Maglor assures him, his little hand soothing him, petting his skin. Somehow, it seems like talking while Maglor holds him is the safest place in the world; like he can say things he'd be too rigid and uncomfortable to say anywhere else.

[Elwing already knows all his thoughts; they both still often feel like ruined shells of people. She has her own hysterias, that he knows. It feels at times like they are both so weak emotionally that they can only focus on going on, continuing to live, much less anything else, like trying to help each other. But then, how can two destroyed refugees help anyone, much less themselves.]

Maglor has told him before in the past that he does not tell Elrond about the two of them talking [like what they say] anymore unless they ask him to, now that he actually knows them.

"That must be why it was you," Maglor continues. "If they had given so much power to an elf, they would have become corrupted and evil. You probably have the burden because of your innate, inherent goodness. Though I suppose it could be random, it doesn't seem that way, though … We shall never know."

He knows Maglor is similar to him and Elwing, in that he doesn't have any desire to rule, even when in a position to do so [as 'regent' before, in ancient history, for example.]

For once, Earendil doesn't weep. Thankfully.

He's almost proud of himself. It's been a long time working on conversing in the first place, much less emotional regulation, after so long in total silence on his ship. And now he even talks to elves all the time.

"I am happy you, and the Princess, and Lord Tuor are safe now, here with us," Maglor tells him, laying his hand on his back. "And Elrond, obviously. I suppose I must say him first, since he saved me from death, and I love him best. I am glad the Valar have no power now; you are all safe. How nice it is to be together. I like seeing Elrond with you both, it's cute because of how you all do tiny things alike all the time. It makes me think of when he was a boy, and I imagine you both as children, and wonder what you looked like."

"I can show you," Elwing says out of nowhere, they both look up; Earendil sits up. But she's not there.

"That wasn't my imagination, right?" Maglor says. "You heard that too?"

Earendil nods at him.

"Yes he did," Elwing says, and explains, "I'm the pillow."

They both look down at it. "We squished you," Maglor says, concerned, and Elwing slithers out of the pillow as bright silver liquid mercury-looking stuff and then becomes herself.

"No, I'm okay," Elwing says to him. "Look," she says, and turns to the window. It looks out upon the waterfalls of course, they're in new Rivendell. Those suckers are everywhere.

But now that's not what they see, he realizes suddenly. Elwing is showing them something else, out the window. One half of it he realizes is him – literally. Earendil as a child, with Idril, playing with toys.

His mother looks so happy. [She looks happy now too, but it's still nice to see in this vision.]

And the other side, being different, he eventually looks over at and sees that of course it's Elwing – as a little baby and her family. For the first time, he sees what Dior looked like, and what Elwing looked like then.

Dior looks radiantly handsome, beautiful, almost glowing.

Earendil knows that he himself and Elwing glow all over too, but it's so normal to him after all this time that he doesn't really notice. Elves like Maglor glow in their eyes more, because he saw the original two trees and they two didn't.

"How perfectly adorable you look," Maglor says. "Both of you."

Elwing turns to him. "Do you think I would've been a good kid like Elrond?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Maglor says, and she smiles. "How lovely this is, to see. You were both much better looking than me as a child," he laughs.

Suddenly, the window is back to normal [ie nature], but then it's not, and Earendil looks back again. "Look," Elwing says.

It takes him a moment to recognize that they are looking at a young Nelyo playing with Maglor when he was a little toddler. Nelyo looks so different here, so happy and fresh and full of vitality. And Maglor is very loveable as a chubby cheeked tiny elf, holding a little soft cloth stuffed harp toy and talking nonsense to Nelyo, who smiles and holds him, and plays with him, and takes care of him.

He finally glances over at Maglor, who is totally entranced by this vision, staring at it with his mouth open.

Maglor gets a little teary-eyed and Elwing tells him, "Don't be sad, this is happy, don't you see?"

"I know," he says to her, still watching young-Nelyo play with and comfort baby-him. "I am thinking of how terrible it was that Nelyo got hurt. He is so good, at heart. No one knows him like I do."

"He is not troubled now," Elwing says. "Even when he wants to rest, he is only tired. He is not plagued by the pain of the past. He feels peaceful. Much moreso than Finno."

Maglor closes his eyes and just breathes slowly.

Earendil looks at Elwing, and she says to him in osanwe, 'He is feeling relief.' The window vision disappears. There is nature there again, like he knows there is, outside.

They both take one of Maglor's little hands and hold them, and wait for him to relax and talk again. He does in time.

It's still a new experience, to comfort Maglor.

Usually he's on the other side of this. Intellectually, he knows that Maglor was sick for a long time [he saw part of it in Valinor, pre-remaking of the world], and Elrond has said that Maglor was often extremely emotional a long time ago, even so sick that he would try to kill himself and Glorfindel would intercept these attempts, and save him.

In practice, Maglor seems very much like their rock, who is there for both of them, and makes them feel better.

"You should have some cold creams," Elwing tells Maglor. "That will cheer you up. It always makes me feel better, if I can, anyway."

He smiles at her. "I do like sweets," Maglor says, looking pleased with her. "Why don't I have a page bring us the dessert makers' latest inventions, we can judge them."

"We're both pro that," Earendil tells him honestly, so Maglor smiles, and goes out and calls a page, and tells them to.

Elwing then works with Maglor on her Quenya homework, and he teaches her things. Since she's started, Earendil too has learned a lot about it that he didn't know. He wasn't exactly talking very much for a long time; when he did it was to say 'x number of sandwiches and hardtack' to the elf at the dock selling sandwiches, as he bought provisions. … So, not a lot of language expertise here.

[Yes, in Gondolin he spoke in Quenya at some times, when he was a child, and then he spoke in Sindarin with everyone in Sirion, and with Elwing, and later with Elwing here in Aman.]

Eventually the boxes of cold desserts are brought to them by servants, and Maglor goes over the ingredient list first like always while Elwing holds a 'seven types of chocolate' dessert in a fancy cup in waiting for Maglor's okay; then when he gives it, the whole thing disappears immediately, cup and all, through Elwing's magic.

Maglor kind of notices, and asks her, "Was it good?"

"Yeah, but you have to really love chocolate," she reports, and he nods.

Maglor only seems to eat chocolate when he's using it in liquid form to make food softer. And he never seems to mind when Elwing does unusual magical things, which is nice. The elves are typically shocked and startled, and all that. It gets tiring, annoying.

They all try the sweets, and it's fun. Maglor can easily wax poetic about what he thinks of a certain one if they ask him, or if he thinks one is so good that they simply have to try it. He has a very facile way with words. Elwing tries to give her review too, which more straightforward, but earnest.

This time, since Maglor asked for 'new invention/trial' flavors, everything is super interesting and odd. Like cinnamon-basil is one of them, and another is cream-tea. Kindly the dessert cooks included enough stuff with the cold creams to satisfy in case you don't like the flavors, like stacks of different big cookies, and cut fruit, and things like that.

Even though it's winter, they have fresh fruit. Elrond has a special tropical fruit garden that's indoors in a special designed 'super hot' building. This is beyond a luxury – Earendil has heard foreign elves whisper to each other that this must be partially due to either Feanor's genius inventiveness for his children [Maglor and Nelyo who live there in new Rivendell] or due to Elrond's magic powers.

Elrond told him once that it's just his people's love of creating things, that's the real reason for it.

None of the chilled desserts have alcohol, which is odd, since often they do, Earendil has noticed. But actually, probably Maglor told them to do it this way, he realizes, as they eat. Typically if things are better than usual, or more to his and Elwing's tastes, it's because Maglor intervened with the elves to make it that way.

In recent years, Earendil knows that Elrond and Gil-Galad have decided to ask Elrond's Feanorean elves to try to see if they can hugely expand the fruit [and vegetable] hot greenhouses [as opposed to normal greenhouses] so that they can trade with other elven cities. As one can imagine, the demand for this in winter is huge.

"What were the elves doing today, all walking together?" Earendil asks Maglor, as they eat together; he lets the food get soupy and warmer before he eats, while they don't, of course.

He saw lots of elves today as he walked over to see Maglor – they were all going outside of town, into nature. There are a few buildings out there, of course, some Earendil hasn't been in, others are his house and the other royal private houses.

"Oh, they are going out to have a exclusive party, for just them," Maglor explains. "Elrond doesn't like how they act plain still before the Lindoner elves, because of the old clemency of Gil-Galad and Elrond for them. So he says they all must come out with him, and bring their nice things in secret, and then they actually have a party for themselves together, looking fancy. They use one of the buildings out there that's purpose is actually for emergencies, if we needed to keep important people and children inside a structure while fighting out more near town and the entrance to the valley. Try this kulfi one, it's good," he adds.

They both try it; it is really good.

Eventually Glorfindel rolls by and eagerly tries lots of the now melted pudding-y texture food.

"Did you save me a good one?" he asks Maglor while eating.

"You didn't tell me you were showing up," Maglor informs him mildly. "I gave them all the best ones." Glorfindel appears totally betrayed by this. "It's your fault, don't give me that look."

"What are you bothering them for? Do they want to take a nap and need help sleeping, so you're talking about music?" Glorfindel says innocently.

" … I think I should answer later, because I am going to make you regret that," Maglor informs him archly, and swans off.

Glorfindel smiles to see him go; they both love teasing each other. "How're you guys?" he asks them cheerfully. "You wanna go to the exhibit today? He doesn't like stuff like that. He has no taste."

"What is it?" Elwing asks him.

"It's a show of all different types of art," Glorfindel explains. "Technically there's a lot of contemporary art discourse surrounding it, academic-y, but I won't bore you with it; you can read about it there if you want. See, I'm considerate, unlike some people who talk about music theory. And then after we can look at the shops, for fun."

Everything in Elrond's town is in both languages, even little things – in Sindarin and also in sa-si Quenya. This, Earendil knows, is just a calculated political sop to the elves, to say that Elrond doesn't use 'real'/Feanorean Quenya.

"Okay," Elwing agrees, and Earendil nods when they look at him questioningly. They get ready to go, and then put on heavy outer clothes and go out.

They go see the weird 'interesting' art, and also some more normal art, thank goodness. Earendil likes the normal stuff, honestly. And then they see the stuff for sale.

Now the shop area is covered from above with big tarps to keep the cold air and snow out, and there are many lamps all over, on the ground especially.

It looks like walking into a magical, place, almost, that's the ambience, kind of. Glorfindel has to look at everything very closely. Elwing rides on Earendil's shoulder as a bird for the art and the shops, because she sometimes feels uncomfortable with how the elves look at her. Admittedly, she does look like Luthien suppposedly, and does not look like a mere elf, and radiates power even visually. So while they both understand, neither of them care for being stared at, or even looked at in general.

Glorfindel examines everything, including ladies' things and accessories at length while here, as he often gives many people gifts, and some are women. Earendil knows though that he even gives presents to normal, average elves that have no rank or high blood, and even to Feanorean servants, too. It's all about art, to Glorfindel. So the object must match the person's personality and style and look.

Glorfindel's parents visit once in a great while, Earendil knows, and he has everyone tell them he can't ever leave new Rivendell, that they need him, [so everyone does, from Earendil to Gil-Galad to any elf he can get his hands on. ... Even though he doesn't have to protect Elrond anymore, obviously. He insists to them all he needs an 'excuse' to be here, so Maglor has to seem scary [since he's tamed him with his 'gorgeousness', and Elrond has to seem very important and powerful.]

And he finally admits that their deaths in Gondolin really messed him up, after he returned to life, and was sent to Elrond, and realized they had died there [obviously at the time he was busy trying to fight monsters and save Idril, Tuor and kid Earendil. "I just don't like any reminder of what happened," he admits, as they are getting ready to deal with his parents visiting again. "It's easier if I don't think about it."

"Isn't me being here a reminder?" Earendil asks him, confused. And technically Elrond, too.

But he waves that way. "No, you look so different now than you did back then," Glorfindel dismisses.

"Why don't I just invite your parents to live here," Elrond suggests. "You could get used to them being somewhere else, lessening the symbolism of where you saw them, back then. Having a lot of new experiences with them in a new place might help."

"They would never leave Gondolin," he argues. "They want to pretend it's the past there, with Turgon. They all like their stifling, never changing world. "

... It turns out they happily agree to move to new Rivendell immediately, when Elrond invites them [with Glorfindel's agreement, obviously.]

He gives them a house of their own [that the Feanoreans build with Glorfindel and Elrond's input], and all sorts of 'Rivendell' things like jewelry, clothes, accessories art, and furnishes their house, so as to make them feel welcome [since their town has never been comformist or as sterile, confined and boring as Gondolin, they don't really have a set 'style' of clothing like other areas.]

They of course love to see Earendil, as one can imagine, but they aren't annoying, really. They are just excited to spot him or talk to him. Honestly, when they say 'Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima!' to him, it isn't as obnoxious as when normal elves do. Their enthusiasm is kind of nice, it's more parental-kindly-tinged than regular elves who seem more like 'worship these gods' in tone.

Of course they do things with Glorfindel all the time, and like to hear Maglor's music. Apparently they like to ask Maglor questions about his music, and about being a famous kinslayer, and about Feanor.

He asks Maglor what they're like, because they don't talk to him normally, obviously. [They look at him with awe and excitement and tell him to have another cookie, as if he's still a little boy in Gondolin; it's not really a normal conversation.]

"Hmm," Maglor muses, laying on his couch, in his rooms. "I guess they are just like normal elves, really. The boring kind, like the children of low bannermen. Just not standout in any way. They're nice, and not impressive or interesting. But they are sweet and simple, and they do care for Glorfindel very much. They are nice to me, even."

Almost every elf Earendil talks to, most of the time, is one of the highest royals here in Aman. But Glorfindel's parents are not like that. They are not super famous, not super skilled, not super educated. They seem different than the elves he typically sees, or flees from [like the typical aristocrats who want to tell him how great he is, and how pro or anti Maglor and Elrond's 'keeping' of Maglor] they are.

"I still can't believe Glorfindel told everybody that you thought he was so hot that you turned to the light, and become good," Earendil says, and they both start laughing after a second.

"Oh, god, I know," Maglor giggles like a child. "Sometimes he's so funny. Don't tell him I said that. He's got enough of an ego. His parents were thrilled when I told them how amazing he is -- when he wasn't there, obviously. He is so sensitive about his people, he only likes to talk to them once in a while. Almost like me and my father ... in some other way or something."

"You guys should have them meet Fingolfin," Earendil notes.

"I'll see what Glorfindel thinks of it," Maglor acknowleges. "They are his parents, after all. They asked me if it's true that I really like him, and wanted to stop being 'bad' for him. It's so funny, the way they say it, describe it -- like we were just running around tossing swords randomly at people, all random, and then I spotted Glorfindel and threw my sword away."

"Did you say he's your favorite?" Earendil teases him.

Maglor throws a little pillow at him.

"I said some very nice things," he tells him primly, as Earendil smiles. "I said he was the only person I've ever liked, because he's just that great."

" ... That's so sweet," Earendil says, almost saying 'awwwww'. Maglor throws another decorative pillow at him.

Indeed, Glorfindel's parents are very excited to meet King Fingolfin and King Finarfin, so they all take them along on a regular trip to court. Sometimes Glorfindel's parents seem to follow Earendil around, shy around all these famous elves in the famous palace.

Elrond and Maglor come and help him deal with them, and introduce them to several famous [some royal, some aristocrat] elves in general, and Maglor to his fan club [which is everyone, literally] and those of his family who're there.

Glorfindel's parents go to all the performances of Maglor's music at home, by the new Rivendell singers and musicians, and Elrond makes sure they get special, great seats out of respect for Glorfindel. They seem to like living in new Rivendell, according to Glorfindel, and Maglor, who they often want to talk to, and do talk to [while Glorfindel tells them he's 'very busy' and only sees them at certain times.]

"They asked to meet my brother the other day," Maglor tells Earendil. "I had to say 'which one, most are the worst'. It turned out they wanted to meet Nelyo. They asked me if he really was pretty, like the mentions of him imply."

"Did they meet him?" he asks.

"Yes," Maglor agrees. "Nelyo decided he would, Finno and I went with him. They wanted to ask questions about him and Finno, if you can believe it. If they really liked each other like how people say. They both said yes, and the two of them said how sweet it was, that they had such an amazing love story. ... We were all kind of shocked. And the lady, she said I must think of her as my extra mother, even though she was 'not special like Nerdanel, or talented like you or Glorfindel'."

Maglor looks kind of touched, even recounting it.

"You guys are unique," Earendil agrees.

Maglor waves this off with a hand gesture. He uses ones the elves don't use, Earendil has noticed. He once asked Maglor about elf hand signs in general, and he taught him in depth of mátengwië, also called hwermë. Then he told him that if he was really interested, he was sure Tylpe could get a dwarf to speak to him about iglishmêk. [Maglor also said 'that damned Peng wrote most of the books on this stuff, in general'.]

He wonders if Maglor's different hands stuff is due to so much exposure to Elrond, it must be.

"Also, I have news," Maglor clearly opening a new topic because he feels uncomfortable with people saying nice things about him; the kinslaying and his father's destruction of his life have made him like this, it's obvious. And sad. "We have recently discovered that Erestor has a lover. Elrond and I literally cannot believe it. Glorfindel insists that he's always known, which is a total lie, I'm sure; I am convinced he didn't know."

"Who is it?" he asks.

Maglor scruches up his nose [unelven-like] like that's unimportant. "It's some Feanorean that's one of his assistants, one of the old Tylpe people."

Maglor refers to some servants like that, that they are 'x' person's 'people'. Or he calls them by their work, like forging or cooking or gardening, or whatever.

"He does seem very busy," Earendil remarks. "Where does he find the time?"

"I guess they work together constantly, and that's that," Maglor tells him. "When he first came to Elrond from Tylpe, to Lindon, he had some people with him, who also wanted to decamp to Elrond, if he'd have them, Elrond told me. It must be one of them."

"Why must those Tylpe elves have a ruler, though?" Earendil asks him. "The Lindon people don't act like Elrond's servants, I mean ... I feel like they seem like random other people who just live in his town, but the other elves -- they are all Lord Elrond's people specifically. Like it's some type of label, definition of them."

"It keeps the other elves from trying to kill them, I assume," Maglor says casually. "I mean, if they all hadn't gone to Elrond, who would want them? Gil-Galad let Tylpe's people live in Lindon as a mark of respect for Tylpe's courage in abandoning his wicked family, but it wasn't like they were accepted, or going to be part of anything real, ever. With Elrond though, they count. They are the people he worked with when they built his settlement for him, they are different than my and Nelyo's people. They do normal work for Elrond; my people do work that is closer to him, in different ways. The Lindoners are the outsiders with Elrond, further still; people who know me are more the insiders, and people who were there, the non-deserters, when I taught Elrond are the closest ones to him. Kind of 'the worse you were, the more you're in the inner circle', really," he muses. "It's almost funny."

"I can't imagine anyone would treat the elves of Tylpe badly," Earendil opines.

Maglor gives him a look, his eyes are bigger for a second. "Any connection with us is bad. I was so worried Elrond would be considered tainted – and I was glad to think that at least Elros would be off in his own world, away from the elves and their old, sometimes justified, hatreds. And thank goodness Gil-Galad is so exceptional; I feel so good, even now, to know I sent Elrond to such a great person."

Tea is brought by a page, and Maglor drinks a little.

After they both have some, Maglor adds, "How strange to think of the servants having lovers. I suppose I think of them all as obsessed with their work, like mother and father."

"Your world is very interesting to me," Earendil tells him. "I did not live like you in Gondolin. My mother kept the elves away from us, for the most part. So I don't really have experience with this whole thing."

"She did things herself?" Maglor asks him, looking befuddled and horrified. "Well, I'm sure Turgon didn't raise her right, since he was without his wife. He's an idiot. Or did she do it because the elves were being annoying about you and Lord Tuor?"

Earendil laughs. "She did it so the elves weren't there looking at us all the time, because we were the only different ones there, my father and I. … I didn't want anything to change, back then as a boy, in some senses, but I am happy I live here now. And that I didn't have to live in that city alone forever. I would have never gotten to meet Elwing. If Doriath hadn't fallen, she would have never met me."

"I'm sure you would have met," Maglor insists, clearly trying to cheer him up about it.

"How? Gondolin was hidden," he points out.

"If not us, Morgoth would have come for Doriath, for the … for it, and she would have fled to Sirion. And then you would have met just through her magic," Maglor posits. "She would have come to see you to say hello after she got older. I can't imagine her not getting bored with the elves and going off to do her own thing."

Earendil laughs at the absurdity of the idea. In reality, her people hated his Noldor half-heritage, but since he had a big destiny, and was special and 'better' and of higher blood, they shrugged it off. "At least we get to be here now. I am happy for that."

"Yes," Maglor agrees. "I am too. I was afraid to meet you and Elwing – and my brother too, now that he's here. But it has been good."

"We were much more scared of you, than you could be of us," Earendil says, amused. "I was very worried we'd have to meet you when we first met Elrond, and you'd talk with him to us, saying he had no use for us."

"He has always needed you," Maglor tells him seriously. "We spoke of you many, many times, over the years."

Yeah … negatively, he thinks. In the sense that Elrond must resent how much of a disaster they are.

"You know," he says, "it helped me a lot. When you used to talk to me in your prayers to the 'star'. Star in quote marks, obviously. It made me feel good, that you were nice. It took me a long time to figure out who you were, and then that you were real, not my imagination. But you always said nice things to me then."

Maglor looks emotional. "We were always thinking of you," he assures him. "We were hoping you were okay. Regardless of everything else, you should have been safe in a nice house that whole time, with people comforting you over here."

He understands that he means 'regardless of the fact that Elwing kept the stolen stone as a thief too, and you did as well, in the sky, forever'.

" … Thanks," Earendil says quietly. "I missed your talking, when you stopped, back then."

Now he knows that it had been Nelyo who first dropped out, then Maglor, then Elros. Elrond was the only voice left that he'd heard; there were random others, of course, very sporadically. But it was rare that elves really 'addressed' the stone in their minds, and therefore he only heard people once in a while after almost everyone who knew Elrond was dead or practically dead [in the case of Maglor.]

Maglor comes to him, and sits next to him and puts his small hand on his face.

"How happy I am that you are safe with us now," he tells him. He looks very short, next to him on the sofa. "You should be rushing around in frivolous pursuits, having fun. And nothing else."

Earendil laughs despite himself. "It's not like I do much," he points out.

"You're a royal at leisure," Maglor tells him mock sternly. "Your job is to have fun. And the people enjoy seeing us merry. It is their extra license for it, too."

Later Maglor goes back to his music writing, and Earendil goes over to the mail room to see if they want any help in opening the cases of books people send to Elrond [some solicited, others not.]

The elves there let him open some, and carry them into the 'newly received sort-through book room'.

From there he decides to go out and look at all the fancy indoor aquaculture facilities that Elrond's elves built. In non-winter, they fish from their [elf-made] ponds out in the land in the valley of new Rivendell. And during winter they use smaller, indoor, artifically created ponds.

Chapter Text

In winter, everything moves indoors, or is altered in some kind of way, Earendil finds. He's explored new Rivendell more and more in recent years. [He used to just stay in his house doing nothing most of the time, but now he gets up, sometimes.]

There are indoor areas for animals [the ones for food, the other ones for butter, etc], complete with indoor fields for them and glass ceilings. It's kind of neat to see all the inside-for-winter buildings.

There are of course 'inside' gardens for all the different purposes, and inside training halls and sports grounds for the warriors. The same for everything else that would have taken place outside. Different spaces have open walls replaced with glass walls at these times, even at the shops – the front of them now have glass with little doors in them that one must walk in from, to see the goods for sale.

There are special areas for truffles, with trees grown inside on super wet, giant areas of dirt. There are also indoor nature centers [like forests inside huge buildings with glass roofs], so the elves can 'walk' through 'nature' and enjoy it, without being in the cold.

It's a total transformation.

The food is different too, he's noticed over the years. There's ciders and perry, and eventually the elves even use the orchards in new Rivendell to make non-alcoholic apple cider, too.

The flour grinding mill and bread bakery makes a few extra breads in the winter, like light seeded rye and dark rye. The sweets bakery makes apple toffee pudding cake, nesselrode pie, sugared fruit slices, pear tarts, chocolate pudding [chocolate everything, really], plum crumble, and other things.

This is different, as it seems like the food subtly changes a little between the seasons. … Earendil pays attention to the food.

Actually, new Rivendell has a lot of types of bread, and food, much more than he ever knew of as a boy. Even the Feanorean bakers are out of control, metaphorically. Of course there where he lived when little he'd had brioche, and baguettes and regular breads. But here they have make huge amounts of different kinds: anadama bread, very heavily seeded brown multigrain bread, fougasse, and bread bowls that stews are sometimes served in. [Yes, sometimes Maglor tries the soup or broth or whatever, and then Earendil eats the rest, and the bread, or Glorfindel does.]

He also likes the savory meat with green onion pancakes, and the buckwheat galettes with ham and egg and vegetables.

The winter means fewer elves travel between courts, have events, or do as much. … Well, except for the Feanorean elves, who seem to be hustling just as fast as they usually are. Earendil always sees them when he goes on walks around the forests and the town of the settlement.

They can be found everywhere, doing every conceivable thing, really.

In the winter most meals are very warm in temperature. Some of the food is even rather spicy, but Elrond doesn't eat stuff like that, and Maglor too refrains currently and will point it out if it's offered.

For breakfast sometimes there is cholermüs, sweet bakpiapathok, a clanger [one end apple, the other end gammon], bethmännchen, or citron bichon. Even Maglor tries pastries at times, but mostly just the filling.

Nowadays, Earendil likes to explore new Rivendell, and Elwing does too. If either of them want to go, he heads out – for her too, because she prefers to ride as a bird on his shoulder to see the world of the elves. No one tries to talk to her when she's a bird, but when she's a person people say all the usual stuff:
-they feel sorry for her
-she's a hero
-is she happy Elrond kept Maglor as his prisoner here
-she looks like Luthien
-does she talk to Melian
-does she want to rule instead of Thingol
-why doesn't she live in new Doriath and take Elrond with her there
-etc

Being a bird means no questions, so it's much easier. Earendil almost wishes he could be something else, but then he doesn't really want to be. He wants to be himself.

He knows there are both inside and outside areas that are just dedicated to growing trees so that they can use the wood – for fireplaces in the winter, though apparently Feanor has invented heated flooring [it's not widespread], for the carpenters to work on building whatever is needed, from buildings to furniture of all kinds to even art pieces.

[Paper does not need trees to be made, it is made out of linen rags, he learns. … As one can imagine, they have a lot of fields of flax plants, due to Elrond's book center.]

New Rivendell is so wealthy that they even have cut fresh flowers in their houses in vases, despite it being the dead of winter. There're special greenhouses just for that … the Feanoreans have inexhaustible energy, is the reality.

Interestingly, he's noticed that some fireplaces actually don't use wood logs, they use sawdust balls from the lumber cutters.

At times he goes and walks around the huge buildings that shelter the animals during winter, just to see them. They're pretty cute, and it's nice to see them warm instead of out in the cold.

The elves raise a lot of livestock for meat and everything else. There are lambs, pigs, cows, chickens, rabbit and other poultry. Each type of creature has it's own giant complex, so the elves can raise them, breed them, everything. The butcher area is a whole other area.

Some elves ski and use sleighs with horses to transport things in winter.

They even make a heavy beer, too, and drink more fortified wines. Earendil doesn't drink, despite the stereotype of rum and sailors.

One day, though, Maglor rushes around, a bit away, outside as he's walking about in town. He likes his walks, they are solitary [unless Elwing comes along] and peaceful. And at times elves will spot him, and let him see neat things, or give him things, if he walks by the right place at the right moment.

He follows Maglor, who is literally running, [well, for him], and sees him take a box from an elf that met up with him, and then run back inside. Earendil walks after him, and inside finds him trying something with a spoon right there by the door, and Elrond trying it too.

"Hey," he says, as they both look up at him, while clearly evaluating whatever it is.

"Father," Elrond says, all garbled from the spoon in his mouth. He takes it out and swallows. "We're trying the new thing – molasses cookies as a pudding."

Maglor comments, "It's good," decisively. Then he pauses, and looks at Earendil again specifically, saying, "But it's ginger-spicy. You know?"

"Why don't I try it and see," he proposes, and Maglor grabs a new spoon, and puts some of it on it, and gives it to him. He considers the stuff, swallowing a little.

It is very soft, indeed. And very spicy, but not the way the elven spicy food is spicy. This is different; he can tolerate this easier.

"It is called hasty ginger pudding, so far," Elrond informs him.

"Why were you running to get it?" he asks Maglor, who shrugs.

"One of the cooks made it just for me, they just invented it … I got excited," Maglor admits, looking embarassed.

"Will you have tea with us, father?" Elrond asks him, smiling at Maglor's sheepishness. "Cirdan wants to come over and eat, and then listen to Lindir."

"Okay," he agrees. Then in osanwe, he asks him, 'Why do you still call him that?'

Elrond blinks, surprised, and replies the same way, 'Because it was life and death, before. It was our survival, to make sure no elves or the enemy knew that he'd lived. I did it for so long that it's habit now.'

Earendil nods.

They sit and chat enjoyably until Cirdan, and also the tea trays, arrive. Pages drive a sleigh around with trays on it [that sit in a big insulated box] and deliver it all that way, so the food stays warm, and the page elves don't get too cold while they deliver things [since it's faster, being on a sleigh instead of walking over and over while carrying lots of stuff.]

Cirdan eagerly tries the flaugnarde dessert with them, and Maglor's special pudding too, which he offers and explains. There are other things the elves commonly like on the trays, that Earendil recognizes, like little dense yuèbǐng cakes, various stews and many good pieces of bread in a big basket of bread. Then there is the section that's clearly for Maglor, many little bowls of different types of soups and chowders and broths [and similarly, many desserts in miniature cups that are all soft puddings or creamy.]

He tries some joulutorttu cookies while Cirdan talks to Maglor.

"How are those," Elrond asks him, and he nods, and says that they're good. Elrond tries them.

Glorfindel stops in and tells them, "Some people are going skiing down the vertical peaks, you guys wanna go?"

"You're not going, and neither are any of these people," Maglor says immediately. "What if you got hurt? Absolutely not. I wouldn't let anyone I care about do something like that. I would be so upset, to see you as a crumpled mess of broken bones. And that's making work for Elrond. Play one of the other snow sports, that's safer. Pick one that's safe in the first place."

Glorfindel looks surprised.

" … Okay," he shrugs, clearly trying not to look affected by how Maglor cares about him enough to want to keep him from getting hurt.

"You wanna try these honey buns here?" Earendil asks him, to help him escape this awkward vulnerable moment, and he agrees.

Glorfindel takes off his over cloak, and boots, and then walks over to them in his stocking feet, and comes over to try some food.

"Put on slippers," Maglor tells him, so he goes and gets them on his feet. Then Glorfindel sits down beside Maglor, and he hands him a plate, and Glorfindel eats a sfințișori bun.

"It's good, yeah," he tells Earendil, chewing it. He agrees.

Cirdan eats eagerly; Gil-Galad has told them in private that he seems to really like the food in new Rivendell, since previously he had only eaten at the shore for most of his life, and their cuisine wasn't exactly scintillating. It was okay, just not inventive or expansive.

After tea, Maglor plays for Cirdan.

They all stay to listen, and then Earendil rouses himself afterwards to find that Maglor put a blanket on him and one on Elrond too, and is currently shaking Glorfindel awake. "Hm?" he murmurs, at Maglor's hand.

"I want you to run me over to Nelyo's," Maglor's telling him, he sees and Glorfindel says 'mhmm', and gets up and they both get dressed in heavy winter outdoor clothes, and then leave together.

Sometimes Glorfindel still carries Maglor around places, if he's tired, or if it's cold out. … Or if he wants him to go somewhere with him without actually saying that, Earendil suspects.

Cirdan gets himself together after a while, and tells them, "It's beyond words." About Maglor's playing.

"Yeah," Earendil agrees.

"I did not know you knew Makalaure so well," Cirdan says to him, questioning, and he nods.

"He helps teach me stuff, Elrond picks out the topic list," he explains.

Actually, Maglor's really some type of addition to his marriage, in some weird way, they both want him there. Neither he or Elwing have ever had real friends, or anybody at all, most of the time. It's a relief and relaxing to have someone in your corner, who has your back, and is happy to help you.

Also, Maglor lets them save face in front of the elves, and subtly changes things so that they have a better time at elf events. Or even just a random Thursday.

They can't treat Elrond like someone to lean on, because he's supposed to be able to rely on them, not the other way around. Not that they've ever succeeded at that for him, obviously. But still.

But Maglor is there for them, and he doesn't need them to [ … try to] be strong or mature. So it's okay to let him comfort them. Maglor is an ancient, an elder; they both feel like kids still lost in their traumas, at times.

"They are great friends," Elrond agrees. "Is it not so, father? I am happy that he appreciates my parents so much, and enjoys them. He is a very selective person; few meet his criteria."

Earendil nods.

Elrond is being pretty polite here. It's still nice to hear him say, though.

The truth is that it's really the other way around – if Maglor had shunned them, censured them, then Elrond would probably treat them very differently. Maglor is a real royal, a real adult, a real person.

He and Elwing are more like 'person shaped ruins'. Earendil knows Elrond is disappointed with them, greatly. He wanted people like Finarfin and Galadriel as parents, surely. Obviously. Instead he gets no one he can respect, in that he got them.

But the other part is true … not to flatter them [though it is flattering, honestly], but Maglor is not a fan of most elves. The same for Elrond. Even Earendil can tell.

Maglor often tells them things about different elves, and most of it's not flattering. It's both amusing and also helps them try to learn about and remember all these Aman elves, and the histories of what everyone did in depth.

It's easier to learn due to how Maglor often says very unqiue things about each person, or their deeds, like that Fingolfin was 'decent but given to despair too much, truly like a snake from the desert that snaps and decides to go live in the swamp lands, and then dies'. He said that Finarfin was like a 'little homebody bunny that thinks it's special for how boring it is, compared to the lions and tigers that actually have had lives, for good or for ill'. [By those big cats he must mean Feanor and Fingolfin, Earendil thinks.]

Maglor says Galadriel is like a 'better, lady version of someone in the vein of Feanor, or Miriel, yet greater – and yes I did tell her that, and yes she did like it'.

He says that Finrod is like 'a ladybug – you know they're helpful in some way, and nice, but half the time they always pop up when you're busy and you don't want to see one'.

He calls Cirdan the 'only true grand old king that everyone respects, no matter who you are'. Thranduil is the 'smarter, more likeable version of his father'.

It's often quite a striking mental image, how he talks about the elves.

Some elves he cautions them about, saying to only see them if he or Finno or Elrond are with them, because he thinks some are not mannered enough to act appropriately respectful with them.

Elwing and Earendil don't really blame any [or these] elves, because they get it. They are two weird beings. No one else is like them, and will never be again.

They are a lightening rod for all sorts of things, like how all elves feel about:
-their infamous deeds [Elwing jumping with it and flying to him; what he did re dragons/war/valar, and his sky sailing]
-intermixing the beings [maia, elves, mortals], bloodwise
-Melian
-Luthien and her feats and and her death and her descendants
-the stupidity or genius of hidden/closed cities
-obviously the silmarils/Feanor's group
-the valar in general
-the Maglor & Elrond situation [which one's the prisoner when, etc]
-their fallen cities [Gondolin, Doriath, Sirion]

Also, they look and act different than the elves do. Elves seem more same-y sometimes, and are distinct from the two of them in other specific small ways.

"Yeah," Earendil adds. "He is pretty … choosy. He has high standards. None of which I meet. But, he's more nice than anything else. Really."

Cirdan looks surprised.

"And I like his music," Earendil continues. "It's very … relaxing."

"I have never heard the like," Cirdan agrees. "I marvel at my fortune now, to have seen the trees, and live in the hallowed lands here, and hear him."

Yeah, since now the trees exist again, and also Maglor's both reformed, willing and alive again, in terms of playing.

"You above many deserve it," Elrond says to Cirdan. "I am so happy for you."

"Yes," Earendil agrees. He looks at Cirdan, and pauses. Finally he tells him, "Thank you for helping me first learn about ships and sailing. You were kind to me. But I have not met your virtue – I have been jealous of you. I am sorry."

Cirdan comes over to him and grabs his forearms. "My golden boy … that is no sin. Only Elbereth is perfect, and that above her. Do not be parted from me for that. I have envied so many people – for love, for being in Aman, for so much. … It is only now that I have love. I'm sure you've heard the rumors."

"No," Earendil tells him, a little baffled. Does he mean Gil-Galad? "But thank you."

Cirdan smiles at him. "Well, I will tell you, if you will keep it quiet."

They agree, and he admits to them, "I am with Ulmo … close to him. Along with his godly lady, who is with him too."

Wow, he thinks. Elrond looks gobsmacked.

"I don't really get it," Earendil confesses. "But if you are pleased, that is good."

"Thank you," Cirdan says seriously.

So the weeks pass, and mostly Earendil does little except some 'winter' events [same for Elwing], often at the behest of Elrond.

Now that fewer elves travel, Elwing flies as a bird to see her lady friends [though they offer to her that they will come to her in new Rivendell], like Galadriel and Galadriel's mother and best friend. Elwing often goes to classes on art or astronomy with Elrond still, and afterwards comes home and tells Earendil what happened.

Often at night they share with each other any updates, or what they've been doing, and then lay together. And then bathe together, and sleep in his hammock together.

It's nice to be near so many people now, to be close. He now realizes how he couldn't take being so alone on his ship all those endless years.

He would never leave now, to sail, if it came up – he knows he couldn't, really. He has to rest with Elwing in his hammock at night, he has to get up with her. He likes their daily update talks, and their aimless talks, and their random talks.

He likes getting to see Elrond, and talking to him. It still feels so shocking to get to be near him him, to see him – he's right there. His little boy, one of them, and he's old now, a venerable lord. And Elrond is nice to him, even. Sometimes he just wants to look at Elrond, stare at him, just to see him.

It's fun to be friends with Glorfindel, to talk to Finno and Nelyo, to see the famous, interesting Miriel or her also [in]famous son's inventions and building rooms.

And it's a relief to have Maglor, who is there for them both. Who gives them succor with a loving heart, enjoys caring for them. They don't have to pretend with him, they can be as pathetic as they really are. Maglor doesn't make them feel worse. With Elrond, they want to be better than themselves. With Maglor, they can be a mess.

And they are both a mess often.

He is very merciful, like Elrond is, but in a different way. Maglor doesn't think they've got it together, and doesn't even need them to try. No matter how they act, he treats them gently and softly, and god, it's the best.

With Maglor, he doesn't have to be strong anymore, or try to keep it together, or pretend he's okay. He can act like the sad, messed up, awkward kid that Elwing knows, and married so young.

He can be himself.

It feels very good, to be yourself. Even if being 'you' is being a total disaster. Elwing agrees, they've talked about it. She's told him that Maglor exudes love for them in their direction, and that that's part it, that it's very soothing, to be near someone like that.

Earendil agrees, but it's more than that. It's how Maglor is on Elrond's side, but is also on their side, even though their side is indefensible and a disgrace.

It's like he and Elwing are shard crumbs of a broken glass cup on the floor, and Maglor has scooped them up and is helping them glue themselves into something vaguely resembing a dish of some kind. Something, at least, instead of being scattered slivers and dust, refuse. Only garbage.

Maglor acts like their friend, and also their [emotional] protector, almost parentally, for them, with only lenience for them. He never makes Earendil feel bad about how he gets lost in his thoughts, and feels almost hysterical at times, and gets angry about everything … a lot.

He helps them feel like someone is actually listening to what they have to say, what they feel, and understands – both their huge mistakes and failings, and also their good parts.

This winter, Maglor actually becomes pre-occupied with designing his new music building at Nerdanel's. Apparently in the past they [the elves near her that were not Feanorean but felt sorry for her, and wanted to help, and so brought her food and goods all the time] just kept rebuilding it exactly how it was as per Nerdanel's agreement.

Earendil goes to the library to look at books on buildings, to see if any show something Maglor would probably like. Now that he travels with him and Elrond on his 'music tours', he's heard them all comment on the different styles of elven architecture.

There is no one to see in the library anymore – Caranthir is still out in Valmar with that poet person, he hears, since he likes books and all that so much; Moryo doesn't always like Maglor's music, he told Earendil once, because it makes him get too sad at times.

Cirdan stays in new Rivendell still to hear Maglor play, and Gil-Galad says he's very happy to have a reason for/to convince Cirdan to stay here instead of going to one of his two homes [one on the shore, and one by the new two trees.]

Of course, Cirdan is treated with great honor, and eats with Gil-Galad, and Elrond as well, too. Everybody else only attends if Cirdan wants them and asks for it.

Sometimes he asks for Earendil to be asked to come, to be nice probably, but it's a drag. On the docks, it's fine.

Here in Gil-Galad's super fancy royal dining room, it's annoying. There are a lot of servants. Everyone wears fancy clothes, even Cirdan – because Gil-Galad and Elrond are supplying him with all he could need while he lives here in new Rivendell as a mark of respect.

Earendil just wears his usual clothes; if Gil-Galad has a problem with it, he'll tell him.

Celegorm starts showing up with Elwing's brothers at her house, because he likes the food from new Rivendell, Earendil finds out – her brothers brought some with them while hunting and he tried it. Apparently they also admitted they are themselves to him; before they had hid it with glamours.

Elwing tells Earendil that Nimloth has said she doesn't mind her sons' weird friendship in secret [from him] and now overt to Celegorm, since she's had so much time to think over her and Dior's mistakes, too. Not just Celegorm's and Finwe's and Feanor's, on ad infinitum.

They both decide not to mention it all to Maglor, who will certainly be horrified at his most aggressive/odd brother being friends with the children he literally ordered the [abandon in nature style] deaths of.

Sometimes Elwing's brothers want to talk to Earendil and ask him questions about new Rivendell, which he tries to answer. They are usually scarfing down food as they do it, like grilled meats, or bosschebol chocolate pastry puffs, or fresh fried foods of many kinds with sauces and vegetable garnishes, or cold creams.

The performers have to move inside in the winter of course, so certain buildings are set up for ballets, other dance, and concerts to take place. Earendil only goes to those types of things once in a while: if Glorfindel tells him he thinks he'd like one, or if Gil-Galad asks him for the company, or if Elrond wants him to come with him because it's to support the other-than-Maglor music writers of new Rivendell.

Once in a while there are injuries, or elves have problems, and then Elrond is out all the time, at the healing halls.

Mostly he's not, though. He has teams of elves who've specialized in different things, and Elrond is only called in for old phantom injury stuff [ie the remaking happened, everyone is physically healed-ish, but people still feel weird, now with no 'real' injury], or very serious or unsolvable/baffling problems.

Melian eventually leaves the new Doriath area, they all hear, and supposedly Nellas is trying to comfort Thingol.

Earendil spends a lot of time reading his mail, and deciding whether to answer any of it. Some famous people write him about boring stuff or boring elf events; he ignores those.

Regular elves do sometimes write him as well. He gets questions about ships and sailing, questions about if Elwing can do crazy specific stuff [that she can't do, and also doesn't want to do; he shows those letters to Elrond, after Elwing with her okay, to see if anything can be done for these people who want help], requests for him to somehow get Maglor to play for whoever it is [he ignores these], notes from his mom and dad and Elwing's mom [he answers these.]

Actually he sees Elwing's mom a lot now, as she often wants to have tea with him and Elwing, just to hear what they've been doing. So they go when she asks for it. She's nice. [One time she told Earendil she was happy Elwing picked him, because now that she's met him, she thinks he is a good person. It was awkward, cause that's not why she chose him, and he has not been a good husband.]

Earendil also gets letters that are like offers for visits, if he wants to go, from people like Galadriel and even Miriel and Feanor, now that he knows them. Once in a while he accepts stuff like that, if Elwing wants to go too, or if he can get Elrond or Maglor or Glorfindel to go with him. It's more fun if someone else is there too.

Mostly he hangs out at home with Elwing, and Elrond, and Maglor. And his other friends.

Winter, he's realized over time, is a period where everyone tries to help Finno extra, as he obviously does not care for this season. So Maglor is over at his house constantly, trying to help Nelyo cheer him, distract him, and play for him. At times Earendil is enlisted in these efforts, and he's happy to do it.

Eventually he shows Maglor some book illustrations for ideas re his new music building, that hasn't been built yet, and they discuss it. He also does some little carpentry as well, when Elwing's brothers ask him if he can make them some extra stuff for their house [it's Nimloth's house, they still live with her.] … Because they keep accidentally breaking furniture, sometimes with magic and other times physically. Like Elwing, they have great strength in both ways and don't always control it well.

[He told them and Nimloth that he's sure that Elrond wouldn't mind giving them extra pieces, but they all seem embarrassed about it and don't want that.]

He works on building the stuff down at the docks, since there are tools and lumber there [due to the ship building that typically happens]; he doesn't want to disrupt Elrond's carpenters.

Cirdan, he's noticed, has basically abandoned the shore to live by the two trees, though he does continue to take constant trips to see Gil-Galad in new Rivendell and also to hear Maglor play.

Maglor and Elrond discuss one morning how best to obscure the fact that Tylpe comes to new Rivendell nowadays to speak to Nimloth in a … flirty way, while Earendil listens and actually eats breakfast.

"Eat something," Glorfindel tells them both. Maglor makes a rude gesture at him and Elrond laughs, and tries an omelet, while Maglor obstinately only has tea, on purpose, now.

"Perhaps she would like another house," Elrond suggests as an idea. "That way her sons could have their own space. Or even the other way around – seeing if they two would like their own building."

Elwing is not there to comment, because she is off hanging out with Idril and Tuor today. She likes to go to them often, and has told Idril that she's working on practicing acting like an elf, to 'blend in', so they do things like go on walks, and have tea, and Elwing tries to act 'elf normal' the whole time. It's a safe environment for her to get tired of it, or make a mistake, and she enjoys their company, so it's not drudgery.

Really, Idril and Tuor are the only 'parental type people' she can remember, of course. So she is very close to them, even if they did leave them after only a few years in Sirion.

She does not know her own father at all, and never will. And she had to meet her mother here in Aman eventually as an adult, and learn who she was, because she didn't remember her, either.

"Yes, that might be nice," Maglor agrees. "Especially since they are adults now, and perhaps might want to entertain a lady at their domicile, at some point, at least."

Earendil just listens and eats a big waffle covered with powdered sugar, and crispy seasoned chicken. He doesn't know Tylpe, not deeply. Maglor even says he doesn't either, and the same for Elrond.

"Have you ever done that?" Glorfindel asks him.

Maglor raises his eyebrows, and so does Elrond. "Who knows," Maglor says airily, "all that's lost in the mists of time."

"I could just ask all the music people here and in Tirion," Glorfindel points out.

"What about you?" Maglor says, turning it back at him. "Did you spend your time with some other composer, before we met?"

Glorfindel hesitates, a little, suddenly. Earendil knows at once that he must be thinking of Ecthelion.

He tries to never think of Gondolin; he understands that Glorfindel does the same. Earendil can barely remember it, just almost as a vague happy dream. His mother would sometimes have elves come in to tutor him, or talk to him, while she sat with them, always. He remembers Ecthelion's flute, and willow whistles.

And he remembers learning he was dead, as they tried to run away to survive.

That was just added horribleness at a time when he couldn't take anything more – hell, he couldn't take what was currently going on. And yes, he has read what was written about him then. And it makes him so incredibly angry. He isn't actually sure if that part is true, because he can barely remember those times, and tries not to anyway.

Everything good in his life was ruined, one thing after the other, forever. Only recently has anything been nice at all.

Glorfindel, he thinks, must have a much harder time when thinking of Gondolin, because he was an adult who lived there. He has real and copious memories of being there, unlike Earendil.

"I think I should go," Earendil tells them all, putting his fork down.

He's already thinking of the screaming, his mother fighting, how hysterical he felt. Of getting away, only for there to be a giant monster again. Again! And Glorfindel saving them, and them all running. Them all crying, wailing. Getting to Sirion.

He couldn't calm down, then. Only sometimes on the water after they got to Sirion, had he felt good, a little.

Meeting Elwing had been so exciting, the one good thing. And then his parents had left, ruining his happiness. Well, that's not the right word. He'd been sick with worry about his father dying [true death, not cutesy temporary elf death], and himself too. It had been easier to obsess over a goal instead of drowning in his panic and fear and sadness.

Glorfindel is suddenly in front of him, on a knee in front of where he's sitting. "Hey," he says, and Earendil notices, and looks at him. "It's okay."

He tries to nod to him.

Elrond tells him to drink something, so he obeys.

And then he realizes he just woke up. He was asleep? Oh, it was Elrond's drink that did it. That he gave him.

Then he realizes there are sweet bells ringing. No, it's a harp – oh, it's Maglor. He's just so good at the harp that it sounds like magic bells, somehow. It's a light song, just lightly happy noises, no real deep motive or theme, unlike his normal music.

"Glorfindel," he murmurs, and he's there.

"Yeah," Glorfindel says, easily. "It's okay."

"I'm afraid you'll talk about Ecthelion," Earendil tells him softly. "I'm so sad. I'll never get out."

"I understand," Glorfindel says. "He actually got a new haircut and it's hideous. I went to see Idril and Tuor just to find out if they agreed with me about it – they did."

Earendil smiles faintly.

Maglor is still playing music in the background; quiet, bright music.

"Anyway, I hate talking about back then," Glorfindel tells him frankly. "I felt like my artistic ambitions had no place there. But I'm sorry our joking accidentally got into this topic. Obviously, neither of us meant that."

"I know," he whispers.

"I used to make Lindir upset all the time," Glorfindel adds. "It always made me feel so bad. Elrond would say that he didn't blame me, but that didn't make me feel better."

"Of course I didn't blame you, you're so silly," Maglor interjects suddenly, while still playing his harp. They both look over at him. "You know you're the only person I like. In the feelings way."

Glorfindel laughs. "That's the dumbest way to phrase it."

Maglor sighs and looks amused. "You see what I have to put up with?" he demands, glancing at Earendil. "This is making me want to go see if there are any other super tall blondes I can aggressively scold all the time. I'd prefer one older than me."

"I'm pretty old," Glorfindel argues immediately. "I'm not that much younger than you."

"Maybe we should go to Valmar to see who's available," Maglor says innocently. "I'm sure Moryo could send me a list, after offending probably everyone, to the last elf, who lives there. How they haven't expelled him yet is a mystery."

"Ouch," Glorfindel laughs. "I kind of like how he's so blunt. It's hilarious. Everything he says is interesting and so rude that it stops being rude and starts being funny, instead."

"I know," Maglor sighs. "If I only I could be from another family. Ugh."

"Just dye your hair," Earendil tells him. "You can be related to my mom, or to Glorfindel."

"Well, not too closely related," Maglor says, and smiles wickedly at them. "I don't follow the family interests that much."

They laugh together.

"Did Elrond leave?" Earendil asks them, realizing he's gone. He also now notices that he's laying on the couch, with blankets all over him and his shoes off.

"Yes, my dear," Maglor says, and walks over to him, and sits next to him on the sofa, all while still playing music on his lyre. He really does make it look super easy. "I told him I thought you should rest, and he agreed. And I said I didn't want you to feel weird about him seeing you get upset, and he agreed, and said he didn't want you to feel worse cause he's there. He said many people don't want a healer to be there when they are resting, pestering them and asking medical questions and doing tests."

Especially not if it's your own worthless father, he thinks. He knows that that's what Maglor's really saying. It's all to be nice to him, how he's phrasing it this way. But it's really that he and Elrond think Earendil doesn't want Elrond to see him act so pathetic … or more pathetic than usual. How about that.

"Thanks," Earendil tells him.

"Do you still want to go with us and Elwing to the obstacle course competition?" Glorfindel asks him. "You should rest if you're tired."

They are both very kind to him, when dealing with his general 'not have it togetherness'. A lot of things make him freak out, he knows. He often sticks to going on walks alone or with Elwing, or hanging out in his house, or with Maglor, because all those things are safe. Typically he doesn't fall into the pothole of despair then.

Actually, he does then too, honestly. Just not as much.

"I'll stay with you," Maglor tells him, still playing. "Nobody likes to see me about anyway – the visitors get nervous when I'm around."

It's true. Visiting important elves do get very anxious when Maglor is out and about, near them. If he's not performing, then he might talk to them, and nobody wants that. Earendil thinks it's partially because they don't know what he'll say, and are afraid he'll be cruel to them, since obviously none of them were on his side in the old days.

Everyone knows Maglor is very witty, it's not just song lyrics he's good at coming up with.

But Maglor is not cruel. It's just that nobody actually knows him now, and he doesn't seem to want anyone to anyway.

[The Valar and Maiar are nervous to be around him too, Earendil has heard. It is well known how the Feanoreans passionately hate them – and that was before Melian was considered a traitor to her own people and Elwing. They might have toppled Doriath, but that doesn't mean they don't also despise Melian for abandoning her people. And all that is before Varda's hallowing of the silmaril's burned their creator's kids' hands. Nelyo's only remaining hand, horrific – and Maglor's harp playing, ruined.

So those demi-gods all now only listen to Maglor's music in concert, not ever near him, or even revealing their presence to the elves anywhere in new Rivendell. And before that they must get Gil-Galad's approval to even be in the city, since Elrond can tell they are there with his power. And Elwing can too, obviously. … Varda has not been allowed in, as one can imagine. Elrond and Gil-Galad have excessive rules for the demi-gods, even above what the new remaking has changed to depower them in regards to the elves.]

Earendil nods at him, and says to Glorfindel, "Go with Elwing, will you? I want to rest here for a little while."

"Okay," he says, and claps his shoulder firmly, and then leaves.

As he goes, Maglor watches him head out, while still playing his harp idly, not having to look at it to play. [He's insanely impressive like that, really.] And then when he's truly gone, he says idly to Earendil, "It's funny, he really does have a great ass. A great body. But I'm not very into physical stuff in people."

Earendil almost laughs.

Maglor always says very unexpected, and funny, things. "Why did you get with him?" Earendil asks.

Maglor shrugs, but only with his face, not with his shoulders, because of how he's playing for him. "I guess it was his soul. He helped me when I was sick, when I woke up. Well, before, too. But he was very pure in his wish for me to recover, feel less pain, be better. I could feel his energy; it helped sustain me. It felt very much like some perfect comfort. He always seemed to like me, which was crazy for a million reasons. It was weird how he liked my hideous corpse-look before – but I guess it's like his ugly paintings, he likes gross things. I think he really wanted to do something other than be a warrior, and helping Elrond heal me was the conduit to that. And also he needed me, to hear me play, because he would get upset all the time, back then. It was almost constant. There's nothing as attractive as being needed, really."

Earendil tries not to smile, but Maglor spots him looking amused.

"There's nothing wrong with that," he defends right away. "It's nice to have someone truly be healed, feel relief, in some way by my songs. I never really understood why Elrond liked that healing stuff – but now I do. You feel so holy, doing it. And happy, powerful, purposeful, special. It's the ultimate good drug, much better than alcohol. It was just us in Rivendell, except for Erestor, for most of the time. So I was the only other important person there – he didn't have much of a selection to choose from, if he wanted someone of high blood. Also, I think he wanted to 'marry up', you know. He may be a lord, but I am a prince."

Maglor looks very mischievous with those last words, making him look very young just then. They laugh together for a moment, at the funny idea of it. Glorfindel doesn't care about that at all, obviously.

And of course they aren't married, in any sense, he knows. Maglor probably won't allow even for some superficial fake ceremony or something. The eldar only have those for typical relationships that would be Valar approved anyway, the old male-female thing.

Elwing probably liked him for that too, he thinks. He was the only other 'special' person not just in Sirion – ever. In existence. So together they both weren't alone anymore, but had a fellow now, a friend, somebody similar, finally.

Maglor plays for him for a while.

Eventually Elwing and Glorfindel get back from the obstacle competition viewing and describe it to them at length, all excited. It does sound neat. They give them a play by play of the best competitor's attempts. Elwing shows them different parts of what happened with her power, so it's like having a vision of it.

And then back with Elwing in their room – this time Maglor asks them to why not stay over in town, so they agree and go live in his rooms [which he never uses, since he's always in Glorfindel's rooms], and he asks her. "Why did you pick me? Just cause my blood was better too?"

Elwing lays facing him on the bed.

"I picked you cause you were nice," she tells him simply. "I thought maybe you would like me back cause I had the stone, people acted nicer to me cause of that. I was so lonely. I wanted to die every day."

"Me too," Earendil agrees. "Sometimes I still feel bad. But I don't feel as lonely anymore."

Elwing nods. "Me either. Elrond thinks we're okay sometimes. It makes me feel good, when I sense it from him. I like seeing our parents whenever we want. And I like how they listened to me about HER. They picked me over HER! Maglor still won't go play for those people. And Elrond won't go for magic lessons. Sometimes I think about it all day and feel so happy."

He smiles, happy for her. "I love that too. They really like you. I don't think they'd do that for me."

"I think they would," she says, supportively, but he shakes his head.

"I'm just a burden to them. But at least Maglor likes snuggling me," Earendil says. "It feels good."

"Yes," Elwing agrees. "Good thing he lived."

It's always hard to think about how Maglor almost really died, on the shore. Then who knows – would his father and brothers be in the void forever, lost? He would have never gotten to be introduced to him, then.

Instead he's gotten his first real friend, and someone who loves him, that he loves too [just not in the 'get naked' way.]

Later Maglor knocks on the door, and they let him in, and he plays them a sleep song.

The next morning they get up and get ready for the day like usual, and walk out [Elwing with him] into Elrond's typical study room only to find it's total chaos.

Maglor actually runs past them in pyjamas at a shocking speed, while Glorfindel follows him, and Elrond too. All of them look like they just got up. They are all yelling at each other, but none of it seems to be parsible. Elrond does tell Earendil and Elwing with osanwe 'stay here in our land don't leave' as he races by.

They are barely even dressed for the cold weather, but they leave anyway. It's pretty crazy to see. For example, Maglor has on only one overcloak, not twenty.

And then they're all gone, running to get horses and travel out to Finarfin or Feanor, presumably.

After they leave the two of them in the dust, shocked, Elwing turns to him, looking wide-eyed. "They are going to Feanor – there are rumors he has given Fingolfin a silmaril."

"But that's impossible," Earendil says, shocked. He, after all, gave Elwing's [with her permission] to the Valar to give to Feanor to break open, and make new two trees. " … Right?!"

Elwing shrugs. "That's all they know. I don't see more in their minds."

"Can you look at Feanor's mind? Or is it too far?" he asks.

She closes her eyes and then opens them, probably looking, he thinks. He waits in silence.

Finally, she says, "Oh, it's just a real cool jewel. Just one, there aren't three. It looks pretty. So people think it's something like a silmaril maybe, but it's not. He's basically too talented, is the problem. He didn't put any of his soul into this one, so it's all good."

"What should we do?" he asks.

She considers this. "I don't know. I guess we shouldn't get involved. All the elves are going to yell at him. But I feel sorry for him, a little – he is going to be sad after his kids curse him out in a few minutes."

Thus relieved, Elwing goes off to hang out with her mother and brothers, and Earendil stays in Elrond's rooms in case the group returns. He tries to read some of the books Elrond has piled up by his desk. … They're so advanced it's disturbing.

Literally, he doesn't understand any sentences in most of them, the words are too complex too often.

In the interim, he plays with one of Maglor's harps – he said he could, many times before. Earendil first goes outside to tell the pages out and about there that he said he could. [He doesn't want them freaking out that someone is messing with Maglor's stuff and then finding him [of all people] there.]

Later that day, everybody comes back.

They all look very tired; Elrond waves at him tiredly and goes to sleep in his rooms. Gil-Galad goes with him, even though usually it's the other way around. Finno and Nelyo go silently and grimly off to Finno's old rooms here in town.

In terms of the usual room, where Earendil is, Glorfindel lays down on a sofa like a discarded pillowcase as soon as he gets inside, and Maglor slithers up beside him, and neither seem like they'll ever get up again.

When he asks what happened, they relate that they went to Fingolfin's court to say they were all allegient to the preservation of peace, and to Elrond, and not to Feanor.

"Fingolfin was scared out of his mind too," Maglor notes dispassionately.

"What did Feanor say?" he asks.

Maglor waves a hand; he can tell he's angry about it all. "He said it was just a normal jewel. He seemed quite shocked by all the commotion."

"Are you okay?" Earendil asks him. "Unreleated, did anybody stab him?"

Because he can absolutely imagine Maglor losing it and stabbing his father in general and also currently.

Maglor smiles. "It was on my mind. I want to get blackout drunk."

Earendil comes and sits next to him on his sofa. "I will feel sad, to see that," he tells him. "Why don't we don't something else?"

He reaches out and strokes his hair a little, and Maglor looks at him with love. It feels good. He can tell how upset Maglor is by all this, how his face is drawn, his energy is not relaxed.

"Like what," Glorfindel asks, holding Maglor's other side, resting against him.

"I could show you my harp skills," he says. Maglor blinks, and Glorfindel looks confused. A long time ago Earendil tried out different instruments in new Rivendell, just to have seen them, to see if he had any innate talent; he didn't. He didn't try the flute, obviously. Bad memories.

But this might help cheer them up a little after their horrible day.

"Can I touch one of yours?" he asks Maglor, re his harps, and he says okay, baffled.

So he grabs a very small one, and then plays a simple chlid's ditty on it very slowly … with a lot of mistakes.

"That was terrible," Glorfindel says frankly, and Maglor starts laughing.

"That was a good first try," Maglor corrects. "Much better than Glorfindel's."

"It was not," he immediately argues.

They debate it.

Maglor then tells Earendil how he should change his … well, everything, re how he's holding, touching, plucking the harp. Finally he gives up. Earendil is just very bad at it.

"Come here," Maglor eventually adds to Earendil, and puts a hand out. He looks more relaxed now, which is nice to see. The same for Glorfindel. So he sits back down next to him on the big couch; Glorfindel is on Malgor's other side.

He combs through Maglor's super short hair with his fingers for a little while. It feels weird, elven hair. Just an odd feeling, to touch it. Because it's Maglor, he kind of associates it with him personally, even though intellectually he knows that's not true. All elves have hair like this, probably.

How strange to think he used to touch Elros and Elrond's hair when they were babies. [Well, very rarely, and super lightly.] And now he doesn't touch Elrond's hair of course, because he is a tiny child no longer.

Maglor lets him play with his hair, and Glorfindel doesn't object or say anything of that nature, and then they both seem to go into elven reverie after a little while.

Earendil leaves them to their peaceful rest, after taking off their shoes [and Glorfindel's crazy heavy jewelry] and putting some blankets over them, and goes home to his own house.

Elwing is there already, reading some of the books Maglor picked out for her to look at to practice her Quenya – they are all kids' books with illustrations. She actually really likes them, and calls them her 'stories'.

As she gets better in Quenya over the years, he picks out more difficult books, but still ones with art in them, because she says she wants to 'rest' her eyes while working on this weird old language.

"It's seems like it's all okay now," he says to her, and she nods, and puts her book down.

"Yes. The elves are quiet once more. Do you want to see this story? It's pretty good," Elwing informs him, so he does, and looks at the book with her on their swinging chair [his written Quenya is terrible compared to his spoken Quenya.] It is rather enjoyable to learn alongside Elwing, and know more of the stories the elves have imagined.

Eventually the elves do all calm down, but it takes days.

Maglor goes over to Finno's old rooms in Elrond's area to recuperate from this shock with Nelyo and Finno himself, during this time. He plays almost constantly, so Cirdan sits outside in a chair nearby to listen.

Elrond tells Earendil and Glorfindel the next morning, "I'm going out to the indoor gardens to work. It'll take my mind off this."

"I wanna come," Glorfindel says. "Magor will be playing all day for them, I'm sure."

Elrond nods, and then they both turn together to look at Earendil.

He wants to say 'can I come too', but that seems pretty presumptuous. "Do you want to accompany us?" Elrond finally asks him. "I do not know if you care for gardening or not."

"Yes, I like it," he says in a rush, so they set off as a group through the cold outside weather to the winter gardening complexes.

… He doesn't know anything about gardening. But that doesn't seem to matter as he follows Elrond around the big buildings of indoor greenhouses.

Inside them, it smells like plants. It's so insulated that it's super hot inside, and so they all must take off their books and heavy layers of outer cloaks.

The elves don't bother them, which is nice. Eventually Earendil tells him, [Glorfindel has gotten distracted by trying to sketch out some of the rare flowers in the flower greenhouse for a jewelry order he wants to make], "It's hard for me to think you are the king of this land. I know you are, but in my mind you are still a little baby."

Elrond laughs as he examines another plant. "Well, I can do you one better. Whenever you are off doing whatever you do, I always immediately assume you're fighting monsters. Even though I know you are probably just here at home talking to mother while having an iced pudding."

"Oh, I'm not that exciting," Earendil tells him. "I'm usually just on a walk by myself. Or hanging out with Elwing, yes. I mean I guess I do my lessons all the time with Maglor, too."

"I am so pleased you like each other," Elrond comments. "I wondered what it would be like, if it happened, so long ago."

Yeah, cause he literally didn't know his own parents. Cause they abandoned him to a fate worse than death, if Maglor hadn't snatched him up.

"It's really rough, knowing how great Maglor is," Earendil admits. "I mean, he has us beat on every level. He's not like playing chess with us – he won before we even got started."

Elrond looks over at him, surprised. "You and mother have your own virtues, you don't need to be the same as him."

Earendil gives him a 'please' look. "You can be honest. We don't have any virtues. At all. It's hard to be us, and have to live with it all. Maglor understands."

He steps closer to him and puts a hand on Earendil's arm.

"I wouldn't trade you," Elrond tells him seriously. "I want all three of you. [Well, I'll include Nelyo and Finno too, just to be nice. They are sweet people.] I like now getting to see you both. To finally see someone else like me again. It's so … special, to be around others that are the same. I mean Lindir did as much as he could, in that way, to make us feel that he was like us. But you two are really like me – truly. It's incredible. I love having magic lessons with mother, or getting to talk to you. I imagined that my entire life. I had all different ideas of it, in my imagination. But the real you is better than that fantasy. You both are. You exceeded who I thought you were."

Earendil stands there quietly. He can't really think of what to say.

Elrond keeps going though, which is convenient. "You are so much 'more', than I had imagined. I wondered if you'd disown me, at first."

He almost gasps to hear that. I mean yeah, they suck, but wow.

Elrond says 'no' to him in a way that clearly means 'wait and listen first'. Then he says, "I wondered all sorts of things. It was hard to imagine what kind of person you'd be. But you're smart, and good in the way I care about, not just the heroic way, and you understand nuance. You are kind, and everyone likes you. You like Lindir. You don't like all the things I don't like, which has been fun for me to see: the nonsense of the elves, and politics, the frivolities and all that. I am very much like you and mother – I mean, I always thought I was, as Lindir used to praise our good deeds and accomplishments as children and he'd also say that we must be getting it all from one of you. He was certain of it."

Earendil realizes suddenly that he himself is crying; he hadn't noticed. Sometimes he doesn't, and comes back to awareness and realizes he is. It happens.

Elrond steps forward and hugs him. He is very short, kind of like Maglor, and Elwing.

"We wouldn't do that," Earendil eventually chokes out. Re the disowning. He must have meant cause he cares about Maglor, and fixed him and brought him across the sea, or something.

It's more like Elrond who will disown them, he knows.

"I know," Elrond assures him. "You both exceeded my expectations. It has been worth it, to come here and get to know you. I was bitter indeed about having to leave my own home, that I built. I loved it there."

Earendil doesn't say 'thank god you all had to come over here to live on, because then we would have never seen you, not ever'. But he thinks it.

"I'm happy you came," he finally says. "I don't think you missed out on anything, being over there. We were both pretty dead the whole time. I don't think Elwing even made herself look person-shaped again until we met you, here."

"Now we can enjoy living together," Elrond says, and steps back from him. "I am so glad to see how Glorfindel and Maglor love you and mother, as I do. I wondered what would happen. If I would have to be alone in being close to you two. But thankfully, they agree with me. You both are dear to us all."

"Thanks for being nice," Earendil tells him. "I know we must be very annoying. Not what anyone would want as their parents."

"Don't say that in front of Lindir," Elrond tells him. "I'm sure he'd trade his for mine in a heartbeat. We both love you dearly. Now come look at this plant here, actually, this is one of my favorites."

Elrond shows him a weird looking one as Earendil wipes his face with his shirt; Elrond knows all about all of the plants … in depth. To be totally honest, Earendil wasn't aware there was that much to know about horticulture. He was wrong, it seems.

Later that night, Maglor takes a break from his playing and comes back to eat dinner with them. Or, rather, sit with them while they eat dinner. Glorfindel keeps putting straws into cups and telling him to at least sip something; and then he holds the cup and straw so that Maglor can drink without having to exert any energy.

"Would you trade your parents for mine?" Elrond asks Maglor then, to Earendil's surprise, and Maglor laughs soundlessly.

"A million times over. Why, are you looking for some violent insanity? Are you bored of good, loving people?" Maglor jokes. "You can surely take my place. You are good at harping, so they can't complain at the trade."

And be Elrond Feanorean, Earendil thinks.

Isn't he that already, really? And then Maglor would be Maglor Peredhel, not Earendillion, despite not having the blood to match the other word, because Elrond doesn't name himself as Earendil's blood son.

They don't say all this; they don't have to. It's obvious.

"I don't really mind mother so much," Maglor muses, "but it is annoying, to have two parents so obsessed with their art. They should have been like the dwarves, and kept to it instead of having a family. But I would love you two as parents. You I have no criticism of," he says to Earendil, and then Elrond. "How lucky you are. You don't have to be from my family."

But isn't it close? Earendil thinks.

Feanor's mistakes end up with Nelyo suffering and living into death, and then killing himself. Earendil's mistakes end up with Elros choosing to die permanently to get away from their sorry asses forever.

Glorfindel interjects, while trying to get Maglor to consent to try some mango pudding, "I would like Indis as my mother, and Ingwe as my father."

"What? No way," Elrond argues, and they all discuss it.

"Really, you seem so interesting as a person that Queen Miriel should be your pick, since she is so unique," Maglor points out.

Glorfindel looks all thrilled now; they all know what it means for one of Miriel's grandsons to speak of her so. Maglor is truly praising Glorfindel here.

"I like my parents," Earendil says. "I don't know who Elwing would pick."

"They do seem great, I called it back then," Maglor comments, and Elrond nods.

"He did," he tells Earendil.

Elwing suddenly appears in his drinking glass and climbs out, like the image of a tiny version of herself. Then she sits next to him and finally becomes 'big' again, to her real size.

"I would pick Earendil's parents," Elwing reports, and they all say 'hi' to her, and also 'cool'.

Earendil smiles inside a little – they all are so used to Elwing's interesting and random magic that it doesn't faze them at all.

"You can't drink that now if it's her bathwater," Glorfindel scolds him, when he goes to actually imbibe from that glass.

"I wasn't 'real' me, that was just an image of me. A phantasm," Elwing insists, and they then start discussing it.

Maglor interrupts them after a while, wanting Glorfindel to take him back to Nelyo and Finno, so he carries him down there.

"Mother, do you want to eat with us?" Elrond asks her, and she agrees. "I thought the blancmange was good today. Though Glorfindel calls it 'staid and boring'. He always prefers the more novel inventions of the cook. What do you usually like?"

"I don't know," Elwing tells him. "I can't remember what I ate in Doriath. And I didn't eat in Sirion for a long time because I was so sad and afraid. Then I just ate whatever mother Idril wanted me to eat. When we came over here I didn't eat anything for a long time again. But I guess I like sweets."

Elrond looks taken aback by this.

"Well, you should try one of everything, to find what your taste is," he decides. "Father, will accompany us?"

He nods.

"I'll call for it to be delivered, because of the weather," Elrond says, thinking. "That will be easiest. How much do you want to try at once?"

Elwing shrugs. "I don't know. Whatever you think is normal."

Elrond smiles at her. "I'm not very normal, despite Lindir always saying we were the normal ones, and the elves were odd creatures with strange habits."

"I wish he were my father," Elwing says seriously. "He would be nice to me. I don't think he would set me up for death when I was little."

Elrond freezes at these words. He is not as used to Elwing as Earendil is, of course. For her, time is often relative, he thinks. She doesn't think of things as just being in the past. To her, it seems more pressing or recent, at times.

"Well, you can share him with me," Elrond finally says, "if I can also share in Tuor."

"I think Tuor likes you," Elwing judges. "He likes how you know things, and how you think so highly of him and mother Idril."

'And how he is nice to us,' Elwing mentally says to Earendil.

"It's a deal," Elrond says, and smiles.

"Do you mind if I be stars again?" Elwing asks him, and he says no. So she turns into sparkling little star things that float in the room. Just she did when Elrond was a baby.

"Do you want me to lay down, to speak to you? Or are you now the same as your 'person' form, just looking visually different?" Elrond asks.

"You can lay down, if you want," Elwing tells him hesitantly, her voice coming from the stars. "But I think you can't eat that way. You always sit up to eat, that I remember seeing."

"Yes," Elrond agrees, looking sorry for her. "I do still. I will do that when the page brings us some things for you to try on a sleigh. Actually, I wanted to ask you both about your chapters in the new history book."

"Yes?" Earendil says.

"I know the three of us didn't really express our personal feelings in what we wrote, our pieces were more factual than anything else," Elrond says. That's true. "But you can always talk to me, if you want to share anything about your past. Both of you. I can tell you for myself that I often thought of both of you as almost fairy-like, unearthly heroes, and even now to see you do normal things surprises me. I greatly grieved that we were separated, but I was proud to know I came from the highest people alive in the world. And Lindir told me you were always thinking of me, and planning a day off from rescuing people and saving the world for when I came to Aman someday to meet you."

"I don't think I can talk about my life," Earendil admits to him. "Not really. Even doing my chapter was really hard. Elwing had to write most of mine, and I did a lot of hers. As soon as I start thinking about the past, I feel so … bad. I can't think, I get upset. All of it makes me feel that way. Soemtimes I think I've only ever felt so bad my whole life."

"Me too," Elwing says a little jarringly cheerfully. Earendil likes her honesty. "We match."

Earendil smiles at her-as-stars. While he wishes she were better off, he does like having someone similar, who understands. Maglor too understands, having also lived a horrific life.

"I wish you'd both had better lives," Elrond tells her soberly. "My life was filled with love and happiness, despite everything. I console myself to think at least you can have that life now. I am grieved to read your chapters, of your suffering."

"Better us than you," Elwing tells him. "If it had been the other way around, we would kill ourselves."

"No, mother,' Elrond says, appalled, and goes to her and hugs her. Yes, she's still 'stars', she's not person-shaped. It's nice, how that doesn't deter Elrond.

He can barely think of him as his son, sometimes – he isn't, is he, really. He's Maglor's. The word son means more than just blood, it means raising. So Earendil's only half his father; Maglor is the other half. Or a third, whatever.

As soon as the seasons change, and it becomes warmer, Maglor and Glorfindel head out to the shore. They let Earendil come too. [Elwing comes and goes as she pleases, since they are her friends now too.]

Maglor again plays for the people at the docks twice a day, like last time he was here with Earendil, as he built his new ship. One night, as they eat dinner together, the four of them are surprised when Elwing tells them with osanwe, "These shore people are not all docks people. They are lying – in secret, here, they pretend to dress another way. They are people from Doriath, trying to sneak in without going against my dictum."

Her rule that she doesn't want Maglor to play for Melian and the people of Doriath.

"Are you angered by it?" Maglor asks her, concerned.

"No," Elwing tells him honestly. "I like that they have tried to hide it – they even try to speak Quenya here, so they won't be noticed as who they really are. They are not good at Quenya. I am better than them at it. I can sense them, how they don't want to upset me, but so want to hear your music. This is their compromise. I approve."

"Oh," Maglor says, surprised. He sips his wine.

Cirdan's servants are not all with him at his new house, or in new Rivendell – some stayed here in the big mansion Olwe built him on the shore. And Cirdan came with them, of course, to enjoy being at the water, and to hear Maglor play.

So Cirdan's cooks and pages bring them trays of food all the time, that Maglor's pages [who come with them at stay at Cirdan's house] help make it for them all, and create a paper ingredient list for Maglor to look over. This is of course presented as a 'Maglor doesn't want other elves to be forced to do anything for him, after his crimes', which allows everyone to not protest it.

Earendil works on his furniture making for Elwing's brothers while he's here, and Maglor gives him his massages. It feels amazing.

Glorfindel demands one too, because he 'thought he was his favorite', which Maglor agrees to, but insists they stay in the other room while doing it so they don't 'scandalize the children'.

Ie, Elwing and Earendil.

It wouldn't really shock them. But Maglor is very insistent that it wouldn't be proper. [He also won't go swimming with them if Elwing is naked; she uses her powers so the other people at the docks or whereever can't see her.] They see Maglor and Glorfindel act cute with each other all the time, actually. Elwing really truly, because of her great powers.

Since they read the 'real' history book, everyone is actually weirdly more hesitant with both him and Elwing. Except Maglor, who was already very close to them [also except Elrond, actually, who acts normal still]. He is the same, except for how he tells them he needs to spend time with them 'right now', after he reads their chapters.

[He just wanted to hang out, and cuddle them like they were little kids, and have the pages bring some sweets for them. Sometimes Magor does things like that.]

The food here at the shore is boring of course, but he's used to it. He can tell Maglor and Glorfindel don't really like it as much as they like home food. Elwing thinks it's tolerable.

Some elves even try to come to his ship [or whereever Earendil is] and ask to talk to Maglor, which seems weird, so he makes them write down what they want on pieces of paper and give them to him instead. Then he gives those to Maglor, who frowns while reading one.

"Ugh. They want me to teach music. How foolish, to think talent equals 'skill at teaching'," he laments.

"Did you have any soup?" Glorfindel challenges Maglor, who rolls his eyes.

"I tell you, I will toss you overboard," Maglor mock threatens him. "What will the elves think, to see that? It will cause an uproar. So try to keep yourself to yourself."

Then one of them casually mentions where one place is to another place, and Maglor pauses and says, "Do you two know where everything is – I mean on a map. Of Aman."

"No," Elwing says helpfully.

Maglor gets a pen while Glorfindel gets some paper. "Okay, so we're here," Maglor begins, and draws a stick drawing of a little ship with a little person on it, [with little 'waves' around it], while Glorfindel chimes in at times.

He shows him where new Rivendell is on this makeshift map, versus where the new two trees are, Nienna's halls, Formenos, versus his parents' country estate, Nerdanel's house. And where Orome's bosque of trees is, and his huge forest. Also, he labels Taniquetil the mountain and also Hyarmentir [that horrible place, though Earendil is glad to have taken down that blacker than black creature on that Belagaer island], Lorelin the lake, Yavanna's beautiful lands, and where Aule lives. He does not mention where Mandos' halls are; Earendil doesn't say anything about it.

Of course he vaguely knows where some stuff is. Just not a lot of stuff.

Maglor also labels where Galadriel's tree town is, and Thranduil's different tree town. Glorfindel adds where new Doriath is, and new Gondolin.

Earendil only would see Turgon [and his wife] when he went to new Gondolin, which he never does anymore. Truly, he is afraid to hear any flute music, or anything else that reminds him of his childhood. He might have such a mental breakdown that he never recovers, honestly. Even he knows that.

[Thankfully nobody popped up and talked to him while he was there other than Turgon.]

"This continent seems like a small piece of land for so many elves," Elwing comments, after they are done with their hasty map drawing.

"I wonder when – if – the explorers will report back," Glorfindel responds, looking excited. "Wouldn't it be neat if they found amazing other areas?"

… This unfortunately turns out to be true. Noldor elves do return to the west coast of Aman reporting that they've found land all over, and it's all empty of people – nothing is there in terms of maiar/valar or elves or mortals, etc. There are animals, though.

So many elves start planning to go out there and live, and build settlements. It makes Earendil nervous to hear about, because he doesn't want to lose anyone in new Rivendell.

Every time Glorfindel talks about the latest updates on that topic, Maglor tells him, "If you even think about running off to who knows where, I will send Celegorm to hunt you down and bring you back. He's surprisingly obedient, at times."

Glorfindel just smiles, openly liking being wanted.

They go home often, since Nelyo won't go to the shore [obviously], and Kano wants to play for him.

And then one day in new Rivendell, Earendil feels a little sick, so he goes out to his ship by himself, and tells Elwing via mindspeak. It's just a kneejerk reaction, to go be alone there. All you have to do is wait it [illness] out, and suffer it until it's done.

It's simpler to be by himself – he doesn't really know Nimloth, and his mother will only return to his father [if she went to see Earendil while Earendil was sick], and he doesn't want to get Tuor sick.

Well, okay, it's not just that it's simpler. It's that there's no one else. He has no one.

And it's strange, and embarassing, to feel so terrible, like this. The elves don't do this type of thing. They're busy being weird statues that make mostly bad decisions, when they decide anything at all.

He finds out eventually that Elwing tells Elrond and Maglor what's going on, and Maglor shows up at the docks and comes into his room on his ship and takes care of him. [Elrond sends him with medical draughts for Earendil; he can't go himself of course, due to having higher blood too … and also probably cause Earendil doesn't deserve it anyway.

Even if Elrond did have fully elf blood [ … somehow, go with it], it is still an affront to think of him taking care of one of the two parents who abandoned him to a fate worse than death.]

It's nice to have Maglor there, and he's used to Glorfindel nowadays, who accompanies him.

Maglor tells him with osanwe that he is going to have Glorfindel haul him to Cirdan's house that's right nearby, on the water, and he agrees. When he doesn't feel well, he doesn't care about anything even more than usual.

Everything passes in a haze for a while. He knows Maglor is there, and Glorfindel. But whatever. He's too tired.

Maglor makes him do different annoying things like have Glorfindel once in a while set him into a bath, or eat, but Maglor does nice things too, like using a cool cloth to stroke his forehead, and washes his hair, and brushes it. Stuff like that.

He also has him drink some potions that are clearly Elrond's medical elixirs. While they do make him feel a tiny bit better, he still feels sick as a dog.

He doesn't have enough energy to pay attention to anything or be polite to Maglor or talk. Or just keep his eyes open.

He lays there and does nothing. Admittedly, Maglor is quiet though. [Glorfindel too, when he's there; it seems like he comes and goes, as far as he can sense their energies.]

He makes no noise most of the time, and just works on his scores. Once in a while he hears his pen touch paper, and it's reassuring, that he's still here. He hasn't left him.

Maglor is the only person probably in the elven world that has the audacity to treat him and Elwing like regular kids, instead of like amazing magic heroes, re their reputation. Earendil doesn't feel like much of a hero, especially now. A million times over.

He wants to go on walks by himself, or with Elwing at times, and be alone at his house. But paradoxically he feels scared and nervous at times, when he's alone, so he also doesn't want that. He wants to see Elrond, or Glorfindel.

He wants Maglor to come and see him at home and talk with him and play.

He doesn't want to be forgotten anymore. He wishes someone had come to rescue him from his boat – well, not really. That's not a good analogy. But still. Actually, it was Elrond who didn't want him to sail anymore, so maybe that counts.

But now that he's permanently grounded, in the poetic sense [and kind of also the real sense because Elrond doesn't want him to fly his ship in space], he has started to feel more clingy around other people. It never feels like enough, to have someone's attention, or talk to someone.

What if he is alone for too long and thinks about his life? He's afraid of that happening. He doesn't know what he'll do, but he's sure it's not good.

He needs a lot of things, he finds. He needs to see Elrond, even just at teatime. He needs to be with Elwing, and feel comfort in their sameness – even their sameness of suicidal fantasizing.

He needs to go out with Glorfindel to look at the new shopkeeper wares, and then carry his bags for him cause he got so much new stuff. And he needs for Maglor to calm him, not just with his music, but also with his gentle hands. His embrace, where he gets to be a child once more.

But this time, things are good. And everyone is there with him, not dead or gone. He doesn't have to be famous and successful for Maglor. He can just be the hysterical, little scared kid that he feels like inside.

He can tell that he's not an 'adult' like Maglor is. He is very old seeming, in different ways.

Glorfindel puts him in a warm bath once in a while; Maglor of course couldn't pick Earendil up by himself, being so thin still. Earendil is a much bigger person than Maglor in height, muscles, weight, everything. Glorfindel is greater than him, but it's mostly in the 'glow' way, since he saw the original two trees, and Earendil did not.

Maglor touches his forehead sometimes with cool fingers. He does not play his harp now; instead once in a while he'll touch only one string and somehow that will make him feel better. It must be his power, he thinks disjointedly.

After a long while he feels more alert, and better, and actually talks to Maglor.

They are in a guest room, in Cirdan's house. Maglor is writing music, of course, sitting next to Earendil's bed.

When he notices he's awake, Maglor makes him eat and get up for a bath, and change his clothes and everything. Finally he lets him lay down again, which is habit now, not needed as much, really. Then he washes his face for him, with a cool, damp cloth.

"I feel better," he tells Maglor softly, from his pillow.

Maglor smiles at him. "I can tell, your energy is different. The elf-y kind."

Of course they can feel each other's energies in general, and also with osanwe, because they are close. He can sense Glorfindel's too.

"Glorfindel is out trying to do some crazy water sport with Cirdan's elves," Maglor tells him dryly. "I informed him already that if he ends up in Mandos I am moving on immediately and getting somebody else, some lookalike, from Valmar to come live with me. I know some of them now, since the High King Ingwe brings his circle to see me play."

Earendil almost laughs inside.

"Did Elwing get it too?" he asks him. They have the habit of each running away if they feel sick, so as to minimize the chance that they will mess up the other one – and also they both immediately abandon their house regardless.

"No, she is well," Maglor says. "And Elrond. They waited a little while to see if she was going to feel okay before they went to see each other. They have been doing their art classes together. And magic stuff."

"Everyone else?" he questions. That is, his father and Elwing's brothers.

"Yes, they are all fine," Maglor consoles him. "Glorfindel always thinks that you must have a real wound or something, to be ill. He will never believe me or Elrond that it isn't like that. Now that you are feeling improved, what do you wish for?"

Earendil thinks about it.

He always tries to be honest with Maglor, naturally, seeing as he both loves him and feels loved in return. He owes him, for his past with Elrond, and his current life too. Maglor could have ditched Elrond when he got to Aman before and lived with Nerdanel, but he didn't. It is Nerdanel who is blood to him, not Elrond. Instead he stayed with him, and played for everyone. He still plays for all who ask for it.

The biggest reason though is that Maglor is the only person he can be honest with, without feeling like he's adding to another person's problems. He can turn to him, to rest. Maglor even wants him to, which makes it so much easier.

Eventually Maglor has him eat, since he finally has an appetite, and there's buttered toast, warm tea, cut up strawberries [these must have been brought from new Rivendell's special hot greenhouses, he thinks, otherwise there's no fresh fruit so soon after wintertime for the elves], creamed eggs on crumpet muffins, hot sticky toffee pudding.

Then he goes back to sleep.

It's honestly a relief to know he can be his real self with Maglor – he can't sink any lower before him, because he already knows everything. Maglor has seen him [and knows him] at his worst.

There's no facade to keep up, with him. Maglor is one of the only elves who knows about higher blood people in depth [in terms of physiology and health], other than Nimloth and Idril.

Eventually he wakes up and finds Glorfindel there, drawing in a sketchbook, and Maglor clearly out in another room, because he can hear his music echoing from a ways away. He must be playing for Cirdan.

This far away, it's just a vague pleasant feeling, to hear his songs. He can still think on his own, instead of getting sucked in.

"What're you drawing," Earendil asks him, and Glorfindel looks up and smiles. He shows him the sketchpad.

It's fashion, of course; designs for some performance costumes in new Rivendell, probably.

"Should I get him?" Glorfindel asks. "I always freak out when Elrond gets sick. Maglor says I am too nervous for no reason. It's just scary, to watch, you know."

"No," Earendil tells him.

Yeah, he'd be weirded out too, if he weren't the sick one [or could get sick] himself, he thinks.

"I'm okay now," he adds. "Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin his performance."

"It's just for Cirdan," Glorfindel shrugs. "And he's played for him tons of times now. They'd survive. Does it feel as bad as it looks, to be sick? Elrond says it feels like someone keeps punching you while you're poisoned."

Earendil huffs a laugh.

"Yeah. That's accurate," he agrees.

"Do you wanna play sports with the guys here?" Glorfindel asks him. "Now that you're better. It's really fun."

"I'm not that recovered," Earendil says, letting him down gently. "Also, I don't really spend time with the people here. I don't want to run into my old crewmates; it's always super awkward, and they act really weird."

They, like most elves, act very 'worshipful'. It's super creepy.

Thankfully Maglor returns before Glorfindel can somehow convince him and/or finagle him into doing any of that stuff, and then Maglor wants to look Earendil over himself.

Elrond has clearly taught him healing concepts, he thinks. The way Maglor looks at him, to 'examine' him, is very specific, it's similar to Elrond's healing 'scrutinizing him' way.

"Do you wish to go home?" Maglor asks him, and he says yes.

He misses seeing the land there, his house, and Elwing obviously. And Elrond. So they head back, and Cirdan comes with them, and then he climbs into his hammock at home – Elwing is already in it, waiting for him.

It's nice, to sleep beside her, against her.

They don't always have to talk in real life before bedtime because Elwing can hop into his dreams and talk to him there; she uses her magic so that he can remember them when he wakes up.

Elwing tells him of her latest adventures with Eärwen and Anairë, and how she went to see Galadriel at her tree town, and how she didn't go see Idril and Tuor in case she could give anything bad illness-wise to Tuor – even they all know that while she might not get sick herself, she could somehow carry it to Tuor and expose him to it inadvertently. They're not Elrond, but they do know some things.

No one knows how being 'mortal' in blood affects Tuor, despite his immortality, with him frozen at the age he came over to Valinor with Idril.

"That sounds fun," Earendil tells her in a dream. They're in Gondolin, in his bedroom, like usual. "Can we be in our real house, here?" he asks.

She nods, and suddenly it looks like they are in his new Rivendell house instead. He prefers that. There're no bad memories there.

The best thing about Elwing's friends is that they don't make her feel weird about being 'better', and they don't try to talk to her about politics, or get her involved in them. Because neither of them [him and Elwing] want to be involved.

Maglor has actually stopped them both before and explained to them about what 'message' they would be inadvertently sending if they did said/did/wore whatever, and then let them decide for themselves, after informing them. Very helpful.

Elrond on the other hand seems to want them to do whatever they want all the time, regardless of what it makes the elves think of them. But they doesn't always want that level of attention. Earendil already gets enough just by existing, much less all that he's done. [And the same for her.]

Feanor comes by more often to see Kano after the 'jewel he gave Fingolfin that looked like a silmaril, kind of, not really' disaster.

So does Fingolfin.

Even Earendil can tell that Elrond and Maglor are furious with both of them. Sometimes when either of them come, Maglor plays for the whole day, just to keep them from talking to him. It's rather easy for him in the sense that he did that for Nelyo for years, and also elves are put into a like 'stasis' mode by his music.

Fingolfin gives up.

Feanor invents little 'quiet hats', or mittens for your ears that block out all noise. Maglor is not amused.

Earendil knows he's verbally eviscerating Feanor because of how Maglor won't let anyone else be in the room when they talk. And also because of how Feanor looks like he did when he walks out of the room.

But Feanor keeps coming back, for some reason.

When Earendil asks Elrond about it, not wanting to ask Maglor obviously, his son says, "Oh, I think he's still trying to build a relationship with him. I don't know if his persistence is admirable or stupid. I mean, can you imagine being Lindir? And then your crazy father shows up again and wants to say 'oh sorry, anyway, what's up?' I can't even imagine it."

... Earendil kind of can. After all, isn't he too a bad father?

His kid[s] moved on from him, too [one into real death, the other into a new family with their enemies.] Just like Maglor and Nelyo did. Earendil lost his children, and Feanor did too -- Nelyo to Finno and Maglor to quasi-death and then Elrond, and Earendil lost Elrond to Maglor. [And Elros to death.]

It doesn't just work one way. Maglor kind of sundered himself from his own group to go with Elrond literally and emotionally, and vice versa [well, Elrond was a baby then.]

But now it's all too late. Feanor missed the entire [terrible, caused by him] lives of sons. Earendil knows it's the same for him.

It is too late.

Their children are gone forever -- one literally, and also Elrond is an old person, now, in a way. He has no need of the parents who abandoned him. He has a real, and also probably magical too, bond with Maglor instead.

Earendil and Elwing are just castoff, damaged people. Necessary sacrifices.

No one cares about their lives being ruined.

It is nice of Elrond to pretend for them, though. And it is also nice to know Maglor is there for them. It's never seemed about guilt, or reparations, or whatever, when Maglor is kind, it always seems like he just likes them. As if they are some Elrond-like friends of his, some kids he cares for.

Sometimes it eats at him, how he and Elwing lost everything -- their own parents [at least he got his back in time, and Tuor was allowed to live, thank god, and at least she got her mom back eventually, and surprisingly her brothers much later], their children, themselves.

He doesn't even know who he would be if he'd had a happy life. Without the fall of both cities, without his children being left to die [by him long-term, and by her literally.] Without sailing on the ocean all the time, and then in the sky all the time. Without being alone.

At first, being alone had felt good. He'd been so upset that it had been good in the sense that he couldn't bear to be around other people, at all.

And eventually he had started to feel like being alone was killing him.

Now he really thinks it was. It feels so different to be with everyone now. And they all know what he did, it's not like it's a secret. Sometimes it's too scarring, to know that everyone knows, and he stays in his house. Other times he just wishes he were really dead [not the elf way, the real way.]

It's so tiring, to be ruined forever. To know he ruined his family forever. There's no reprieve. He just gets to be aware of this eternally. He can never be free of his mistakes.

At least Feanor got to break the fucking silmarils, helping make the new two trees. But Earendil doesn't get to do anything. There's no fix to this, no way to make it right. It will be wrong forever.

He often thinks he's just not strong enough, to live immortally. It's too much. Too hard, too tiring, he's too trapped.

When he asks Maglor about the weight of immortality, he looks surprised. Then he seems to consider it.

"Well," he says, wiggling his feet [very unelven] on the couch where he's laying artfully sprawled, in Earendil's house in new Rivendell. "I guess for me now, it's easier, now that Nelyo's back. Because I can distract myself, always thinking of him and how he's doing. But yes, I did feel very horrible over being this villian, marked out forever. It's not a nice feeling. Though, on the other hand, if that means I get to know Elrond, and Glorfindel, then I'm torn. Because I don't want to be evil, and have done such harm, but I also don't want to be sundered from them. So."

"Do you ever want to die?" Earendil asks him. It's a question he struggles with often.

Maglor hmms, and squints off in the distance, and shuffles his feet again. "Well, it was always a worry, in the sense of 'what would the wicked valar do to Nelyo, and all them, if I too were within their power'. I didn't want them to hurt him even more. I hate them. But if I could have died like a regular elf, then I don't know. I mean, would I have ever been let out of Mandos? That would be annoying. Being alive has been annoying, but I assume less so than being trapped as a spirit forever, merely watching life happen, excluded from it."

That's kind of how he felt, he thinks.

Trapped, and excluded.

Not just on his ship, but in every other sense, too. For all practical purposes. A throw away piece of garbage, something already discarded from the real world.

" ... I don't want ... to be like that," Earendil tells him.

"You're right here, with us. With me," Maglor tells him, and he realizes at some point Maglor migrated across the room and is sitting up against his side now. He does that, sometimes.

Earendil can see how he was so good at fighting – he moves fast when you don't expect it, and then there's his whole power thing.

"I like to see you, talk to you. And hear your thoughts. We all want you with us."

"I ... don't want to be alone," Earendil struggles to tell him. It's funny how he doesn't breathe well all the time.

"You aren't, we're all here," Maglor tells him, in his lovely deep voice. "Everyone wants you here. I know we'd all stay with you all the time, if you wished it. Just say so, my dear – I can even say it's because I'm worried my father will sneak in, saying he wants to start studying you. God knows we'd all believe it."

He nods, jarring his hand a tiny bit, lightly; Maglor is running his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, we will," Maglor tells him, and then says, "There're some things I want done that need your input anyway. And scoot down, you're so tall. Well, I guess it's more like I'm short. But I refuse to phrase it that way."

He does. This way he can lean against him better.

It's messed up -- he wants to talk about stuff, but then when he actually does he feels upset, and almost nasueous.

"People used always say I was soooo short next to Nelyo. I was always annoyed, and said I was a regular elf height, thank you. And that my lack of height energy went into my music ability, obviously," Maglor adds. "So it's good that I'm as 'not tall' as I am."

Anyone would look short next to Nelyo, he thinks.

Maglor helps him feel better. He talks lightly, of different things that are all kind of extraneous and amusing, really, for a long time while petting him, like he's a little kitten. Which always seems funny, distantly, because Earendil is so much bigger than Maglor physically. Except it's not funny, because he doesn't feel bigger metaphorically. He feels like some dust on the foor.

"I can't believe he sent me that letter," Maglor continues, and Earendil realizes he's been talking this whole time. … And he was not paying attention at all.

It's hard to, because it's so new, to be coddled like a child, and loved. No, not like a child, probably more like a little bunny rabbit. Maglor does not require anything from him at all.

He can simply breathe, and try not to feel his feelings. Most of them aren't nice.

Sure, he doesn't feel as bad as before, when he thought all the time about throwing himself from his ship [up beyond the sky, in space, with the silmaril] to kill himself. But it's not like he feels perfect.

"Can you say it again," he asks, and Maglor mmhmms.

"Celegorn sent me a letter," Maglor says. "He wants me to play for Orome. I wrote back and said 'bring him to one of my usual times playing for Cirdan or something'. Honestly, the arrogance of both of them. Ridiculous."

"What's Orome like?" Earendil asks him, still resting against him. He smells like the light scent he usually wears at home.

"I don't know," Maglor admits. "I've never cared for the spirits. Or demi-gods, whatever. Since they have so much power, their feats are not interesting to me. Like say one of them is great at music – they exist to have great abilities. What's impressive about that? It just doesn't draw me in."

"Isn't that the same for me and Elwing?" he asks him.

"No, darling," Maglor says, while stroking his back idly. "You are real people. You matter. These god creatures had no parents, no childhood. They simply exist, like how dirt in the ground does. How water in the ocean does. They're not like us."

Earendil has a bad feeling about how they are actually quite like them, but decides to keep quiet.

He asks some random questions about Maglor's family, which prompts Maglor to bitch about them all for hours. It's quite nice. Earendil falls asleep during it. [He has a relaxing voice, and Earendil's heard him complain about them all many times before, in depth. He even talks critically of Nerdanel, which is interesting.]

When he wakes up, he finds himself with a pillow, clutching a blanket, on the sofa. Maglor demands that he eat because he slept for so many hours, so he does. There's already food there. "And when Glorfindel asks you, say I ate too," Maglor adds, while drinking a fruit beverage. "There's fruit in this – that counts."

"I feel like Glorfindel knows you," Earendil points out, as he tries a stack of mini griddle cakes.

Maglor gives him a glare. "He just met me. He knows nothing."

Earendil smiles to himself.

"Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it," Maglor scolds him, while trying some soup. "Not literally, but metaphorically."

"It seems like he's known you for a little while," Earendil says mildly.

Maglor shrugs. "Not the real me. Just the sick me. And the post-sick me, I suppose. But the true me is someone else – happy and unbothered and alone with my music. I was such a different person back then."

" … Yeah?" he says. Asking questions would only make him upset, Earendil thinks.

"Yes," Maglor agrees, ruminating on it now, looking out into some indefinably point in the distance. "I mean I wouldn't trade it for getting Elrond. Well, I would if I could spare Nelyo, so early on. Obviously. But Glorfindel and I have only known each other during this later period of my ruin. So it's this other version of me. Not original, real me."

"Would he have liked me? That you?" Earendil asks him, pouring raspberry sauce on his remaining pancakes.

Maglor hmms. "Well, I only cared about music. Certainly you are unique, in so many ways. So I might know you as another royal. But you are higher than me, excessively, whereas back then I was only one of Feanor's many children. It was Feanor who was the prince. I can see that past me wanting to do some songs about you, and meeting with you to show you them."

"I don't like the current ones," Earendil tells him. "But if you wrote any, they'd be too good. Either fake good, or real – and sad – and I'd be sunk too low in feelings, and die from it."

Maglor looks horrified. He almost tells him it was a joke, but it wasn't, so. He doesn't say that.

"I hate it when people get upset really badly, when they hear my work," Maglor says seriously. "That's not the point of it. I mean if I were trying to kill people again, and did that, that's one thing. But that isn't what I mean, by it, now."

He wonders what it was like to kill people. Earendil has only killed literal monsters, not elves. He doesn't ask, obviously.

"I know it is a just punishment, and I've really escaped punishment in a way, but it is so hard to be me," Maglor continues. "That's what nobody tells you about killing people. They get over it, but you won't. I mean it takes them a long time, obviously. I'm not saying it's easy for them. But for me, there is no healing. I can never come back from it."

"You did good things too," Earendil points out.

"I still wish I were Lindir," Maglor tells him.

"Then Elrond wouldn't be … here. And we wouldn't know each other," he says, drinking some warm tea.

Elrond would be dead, probably. [And the other one, too.]

Maglor smiles a little. "I do like knowing you two. How interesting, to see where Elrond came from. I always wondered what you both would be like. It's funny, I rather imagined you both as almost like ainur, you know? Like you'd come to see Elrond, and then you'd say some proclamation, or something. I worried you'd take him away with you, to some magical place. I always thought you wouldn't want him to see me. But even on your own, I like you both. Just as people."

Truly it is lucky for them to have met Maglor, who instead of fighting them or shunning them, helps them. And likes them.

How utterly lovely, to be liked. To have a friend.

It turns out having a friend is different than all the other cateogories of people, like parents, or spouse, or relatives. [He doubts he can ever know what it is to have a son, after what happened; the same for Elrond re the concept of 'parents' in general.]

Even their other friends are fun too. It's nice to hang out with Glorfindel, who acts like's he's just another [elf] guy. Or Finno too, and Nelyo now.

But Maglor is more than their friend, he is someone who will take care of them – who wants to, even. How divine it feels, when he tucks him and Elwing into bed [even though they all three of them know that they are full grown beings], or brushes their hair and then smooths it with his little hand. It feels so utterly relaxing, a relief, to be loved while also being known so totally.

Maglor knows all their sins and deficits, and still chooses to blanket them in his love.

Everyone would have [and did] expected him to disdain them, and criticize their selfishness, their extreme mistakes. But he didn't.

Elrond can't ever forgive them, obviously, but the next best thing is Maglor being so merciful and loving to them.

"We're not that stupid," he says, amused. "You're his real father. … And mother. We're some random kids that want him to forgive us for the unforgiveable. Honestly, I'd trade you, our experiences, I think. Not that your life was great. I know. But your stuff seems way less worse than mine, to me. You never had kids during a war and left your little kids to die. Your stuff is all cause of your father, or your brothers. But I have no excuse. I have no brothers, and my father didn't do anything wrong. There's just me. A monster."

"That's not the truth," Maglor says to him, insistent. "You were too young."

"I think if we could switch places, in the history book, I'd look a lot better in your shoes than in mine," Earendil admits. "And you'd never make my mistakes."

"That's because I made worse ones, I'm a literal murderer," Maglor protests, but he cuts him off.

"I guess I am too, though, right?" Earendil says, as he thinks. "Everyone in Sirion died because of me and Elwing. Not just our kids almost dying. Causing death … isn't that what the word murderer means?"

Maglor looks appalled. Even though Earendil knows he'll be forever stained for abandoning his own children to 'worse than death' death, it's still nice to hear someone be nice to him.

"The only person that blames you is you," Maglor argues. "The rest of us don't. This is my fault, and my family's – and Thingol's. You are just an innocent child that got caught up in a bigger war. An inadvertent causalty. No one thinks that any of what happened is due to you and Elwing."

"I think I wish I were dead sometimes," Earendil tells him.

Maglor just looks concerned. "Can we get you through it, when you do?" he asks. "Help you? I know when I used to wander off mindlessly with a knife, Elrond helped me. And also Glorfindel tackled me and got the knife."

"You have before," he explains. "When you think we're sick. Sometimes we're not sick."

Sometimes they just long to die, even Elwing, who chose this endless, difficult life for them. [He agreed, yes, he's aware.] Maglor always comes over when they don't feel good and sits with them, and wants them to drink some water, and take a medicinal potion. It doesn't alleviate it all, but it does make them feel a little better.

"Ohhh," Maglor says, understanding. He tilts his head a little. "So what should we do then? Other things?"

"No, the normal stuff is good," Earendil shrugs. It's not like they can really help; their blood can't be 'fixed'. It is that way, and will forever be. "Does Elrond do that?"

Maglor looks surprised. "Well, I don't know, I suppose. But I think he seems like it once in a blue moon, just very rarely."

Earendil nods, and goes back to eating his pancakes.

"I wish you weren't so burdened by your blood," Maglor tells him somberly. "It's wrong."

"Thanks," he says as he eats.

He doesn't like it either. "We're going out tomorrow," Maglor adds, "so I can play for Elrond's little Sindar friend, and his Silvans. Strange, to think they were afraid of mountains, and my people were a little too eager for their own good. But I guess our history shows us our superiority is a fault in and of itself, sadly."

He means Thranduil, Earendil knows. Maglor often refers to people with distinctive monikers, sometimes based on their age relative to his.

"Do you want to come with us? They only love to make merry, they even admit it," Maglor continues.

"I guess, cause I know Elwing wants to meet him," Earendil explains. "She wants to tell him his son is one of the only good elves."

Maglor considers this. "Well … she's not wrong," he judges.

"Thanks," Elwing suddenly tells him, making Maglor blink in brief startlement. "I'll do magic tricks for the little person, so he won't try to talk to you."

Maglor smiles at her, his face breaking into pure happiness. "Truly, you are a queen among women," he pronounces. "I do hate when Bilbo pesters me. Me, of all people. I am half convinced it's some secret revenge he's acting out on behalf of some elf I killed!"

Elwing smiles at his dramatics, and sits down next to Earendil. She had just materialized out of thin air in the room, before.

"It's not," Elwing tells him. "He just thinks it's super interesting that you and Elrond had such crazy lives. He is afraid to write a poem about you, cause he doesn't think you'll be as noncommital about it as Earendil is, and the elves are. He thinks if he writes about you or Nelyo that you'll make him regret it."

Maglor laughs heartily, and sighs, pleased. "I will indeed. Good to know, that he already knows that. … Now, have you decided what to wear tomorrow?"

"Have you picked out your harps?" Elwing challenges him.

Maglor scrunches up his nose. " … No. I have to do it right before we leave, that's different. I'm an artist."

Elwing smirks at him, amused. Maglor is often very fun to be around, in this sense. "It's not the same," he insists, noticing her mirth.

"Will you come help me with my clothes?" Elwing says. "I'll pretend you're not a dork, if you pretend I'm not a weirdo."

"You're not," Maglor corrects her immediately. "Not bland, like most of these people here in Aman. You're saying it wrong. But I really am a fool, especially for music," he smiles.

"C'mon, come to my closet," Elwing says and pulls him after her. Maglor follows her. He glances back, but Earendil waves him on, so he goes.

Earendil stays and finishes eating breakfast [there was a stack of omelets in a warmed container, he couldn't just leave them to get cold], and then joins them.

Maglor finishes picking out Elwing's stuff, after she evaluates many different options, and then they go over to Earendil's house so he can pick his raiment out. Unlike Elwing, he doesn't have a lot of opinions on clothes. Maglor and Elwing help him by supplying what they think he should be saying.

"I want to be with him now, so you should go unless you want to watch," Elwing tells Maglor frankly at one point.

Maglor's mouth kind of drops open for a moment in a very non-elven movement. "Ugh, ughhhh," he complains, and scoots out of the room, and then right out of the house too.

They watch him scuttle back to town, faster than usual, from the window. Earendil turns to her.

"Why did you say that?" he asks her.

"Because I wanted to touch you, and elves don't like seeing relatives do that," Elwing explains. "I guess except for Finno and Nelyo being together. If I'm weird, they are outer space weird."

"Yeah. … Okay," he acquiesces. They both take off their clothes and get at it. There's a bed right there near the closet, so that's handy.

Then they take a bath, after resting for a little while.

"You see many things," Earendil says to her. "Do the elves really act like us, in this? Are they passionate?"

Elwing nods. They look at each other, still laying on the bed together. "They are, but they act less excited about it. They do it like it's an elegant chore. They pause all the time. We're more aggressive. They're not even entertaining to watch."

The next day they set out for Thranduil's little forest land here in Aman. It's like Galadriel's, but not. [He really prefers new Rivendell. It must be because he and Elrond share blood.] Glorfindel tells Maglor before they leave that he should just bring no harp and play on some extra one they've got to have around somewhere in the green forest town.

Maglor gives him a look that may or may not be able to actually hurt him with magical power. Elwing will have to judge it later, he thinks.

Thranduil seems pleased to meet him and Elwing. They don't really see him ever, since Thranduil doesn't socialize with anybody – not the Noldor or the Valmar or the other 'lower' types of elves either.

Elrond introduces them. Everyone else is used to coming all the time, and goes right to the party. So Elrond takes Earendil and Elwing to see Thranduil privately, in his study.

Thranduil nods to both of them, and then says, "Most of the books in here are courtesy of Elrond. In case you were wondering. He's got a problem. When he gives me books, I can only think he has no space left in his settlement for them."

Elrond starts laughing at his teasing. "I wouldn't be surprised to visit his new Imladris only to see every room stuffed with books, and hardly any places left to sleep at all," Thranduil continues, looking sly. "He cannot be said to have any Noldor blood, I always thought, since he treats tomes like jewels. It is I who love gems, comparatively. Perhaps we have magically exchanged blood, both of us."

"Since when have the other elves liked books so much?" Elrond counters, and Thranduil smiles at him. Earendil can tell they are truly friends, just by seeing them interact.

"To see his parents is interesting," Thranduil says, looking at both of them. "I suppose I thought you both would be enormous, godly beings, despite his stature, due to how legendary you are. And I also thought you'd kind of shimmer blindingly with overt magic, like the maiar do. But you look just like 'better elves', really. Elrond told me truly, when he described you before."

"I like your moose," Elwing tells him.

He looks pleased. "Thank you," Thranduil says.

Earendil knows Thranduil is connected to Doriath, and all that, but thankfully he doesn't say anything like that. "Have you met my father yet?" Thranduil asks them. They both say no. "I'd avoid it. He's disliked by most elves. I've never been pleased with him."

Probably all three share similar disapproval of their parents, Earendil thinks: Galadriel, Thranduil and of course Elrond.

"My wife and I have decided to not remarry, since my people wish to follow me as their king instead of my father, or anyone else," Thranduil tells them. He must mean Thingol, Earendil thinks. "That's why I am not introducing you to her now. She doesn't like the idea of having to deal with endless foreign elves of rank here. We are dear to each other, though. She just preferred to be spared this type of thing. Aman's elves are ceaseless and obnoxious."

"I don't like elves either," Elwing tells him happily, and he smiles.

"I understand; I rarely do," Thranduil says wryly.

"Don't tire my parents out by listing out the ones you don't like, we'll be here forever, and someone will come for us," Elrond breaks in, and so they all agree, amused, and go in to the party.

These 'low' elves really do love to have fun. They dance and play strange music – not like Maglor's music. It's more like nature, more wild sounding. Fewer lyrics or melodies, at least to Earendil's amateur ear.

These are rare elves that will play when Maglor is there, he realizes. They seem to live outside the influence of the Noldor world and their culture; they are different.

If the Noldor seem like proud statues, these elves seem like windy, entranced, odd elves. They almost make Earendil and Elwing look super normal.

They sing in their own style, whenever they want. And they all drink.

These ones don't dress like Noldor, or act like them, and the whole servant concept doesn't seem to be a thing here. At one point in the super wild carousing [to the point it makes the Noldor's partying look boring, to his shock], Thranduil takes them and Maglor too into another room. [Elwing later tells him that she told Thranduil with osanwe that she likes to have Maglor with her when she meets new elves, in case they are so elven that she feels restless and annoyed by them; and then Maglor can help her by giving her a smooth out.]

He says to them, gesturing for them to sit, "I imagine our customs may be new to you. What do you know of us?"

Elwing says to him, "Thanks for saying it nicely. I don't remember where I'm from. And I never lived with elves after that – in terms of paying attention to them, or whatever."

Thranduil nods to her, soberly. … Which is a feat, given how much he and these people chug wine, wow. Earendil will never mentally look askance at how the Noldor get drunk again. They're amateurs.

"And I don't really know what Elrond does, it makes me feel bad to think of holidays, cause I left him so evilly and all that," Elwing adds.

Maglor looks concerned for her.

"He doesn't say it that way to me," Thranduil tells her calmly. "He said it was the only way forward, that you chose the correct future."

Elwing stops, and looks shocked. Earendil feels the same way. Maglor raises his eyebrows and looks like he's thinking, I told you so. Didn't I.

Elwing cries with her eyes for a moment, and sits against Maglor, so he will try to make her feel better during this emotional moment; it's good but it's still hard, and intense. As he hugs her, Earendil watches, happy to see it. They both need, crave, acceptance and clemency from a neutral source – or a biased 'against them' one, like Maglor.

It feels good to be forgiven by your enemies, even, not just people on your side. They both understand already that Elrond can never forgive them. What they did is just too wrong for that.

He looks back at Thranduil, and finds that he's not looking at them at all. Because he left the room at some point. Earendil steps outside, shutting the door behind him, and finds him there, just sitting there on a random bench with wine.

He glances up at Earendil. "I suppose you already know of me, from both Elrond and him." Maglor, he must mean.

Earendil shrugs, and admits, "Not really. I can barely keep track of the elves names and faces here. Even ones I've met many times. I know Elrond wanted you to come here, and then he was excited you were here."

Thranduil looks at him.

"I do not know what to say to such a famous person," he confesses to Earendil. "And you are Elrond's sire. I have found myself rather aimless, since I got here. There is nothing to do in this damnable land. Elrond and the Lady have borne it better than me, of course. They both wanted to come here to see their families."

Earendil laughs, unwittingly. "Not Elrond," he corrects him. "Maglor is his father. I am just some third rate nobody. An annoying relative."

Thranduil looks a little surprised.

"Why aren't you hanging out with the Doriath people and trying to annoy Elwing about all that?" Earendil asks him. "Aren't you connected to that stuff?"

Thranduil smiles. "I think the prescence of a maia in the midst of elves corrupted them, somehow. Certainly Thingol, and my father too. How else to explain their foolishness? Other than simple thuggery, of course. I have no interest in bothering the Princess. Or Queen, however it is. I also have no interest in Thingol or Melian. I must stay with my people – they are the only ones who want me, anyway. So that is convenient. Elrond tells me you know that Noldor well, is that so?"

He gesutres to the room, so clearly he means Maglor.

Earendil nods. "He's our friend," he explains. "We don't really have many."

A while ago he would have said 'any', but technically they both do know a couple of elves, now.

"He seems remarkably tame, for one of his line," Thranduil says thoughtfully. "I know he helped Elrond develop his great skill in healing, which he has aided many of my people with, at different times. So I am not unable to bear his presence. And it pleases my people, that the second most famous musician of the elevs wishes to come hear our music. I know it is different than that of the Noldor. They rarely lower themselves, to see our kind of elves. His coming to hear them is really the only reparation they would accept, and be pleased by."

He must mean Daeron as the first most famous, Earendil thinks. He remembers hearing about that before.

"It's weird how elves do that, separate into such tiny groups, cause they all seem pretty similar," Earendil tells him, and he looks amused.

"Yes," he agrees. "I had told Elrond I could break out my good wine for you two, but he says you do not favor it. So what do you prefer?"

"Just water," Earendil tells him. "Light stuff. Elves seem to like to drink."

Thranduil laughs. "There's nothing better than wine. But if I cannot convince you, I will have other things brought." He calls out to someone in the distance, and they call back, and then eventually an elf brings them drinks in a sack.

Earendil knows that in Noldor-land, they would be brought on a golden tray. Here things seem less formal.

Eventually Elwing feels better, and emerges with Maglor from the room, and Earendil gives her his bottle of water, and goes to give Maglor a fresh one, but Thranduil cuts him off.

"Try this," Thranduil says to Maglor, and pours him a glass of wine.

Maglor takes it and tries it. "It's aged – and good; thick. What is it?" he asks him.

"A new attempt of our vines," Thranduil tells him, and then they talk about wine in depth for a while. It has it's own lingo that Earendil doesn't know. Maglor asks Thranduil if he has tried many other wines from here in Aman, and he hasn't.

"Why don't you have Elrond send you some of the new, and classic, varieties from Tirion," Maglor suggests to him, and Thranduil looks like he disagrees.

"Too much charity – and 'education'," Thranduil tells him, with emphasis, so it must be ironic, Earendil thinks.

"Well, couldn't it be from me, and whoever?" Maglor asks him. "As part of the obvious thing? And from Elrond, in friendship."

The 'sorry for being evil so many times … though really you shoulda seen it coming, idiot thieves,' thing, Earendil mentally calls it.

Thranduil finally agrees. "I will send some cases of ours back to him, and you, so it's more like trade, in appearance," he says.

"Yes," Maglor agrees. "That sounds better."

They stay there for a while, and Maglor plays for Thranduil, and eventually they go home because of Miriel's 'death day'. This is something Earendil didn't know about – that many elves [on Feanor's side, but even beyond that] try to honor Miriel on the day she had died before.

They stop at home, get different outfits on, rest, and then go to see Miriel. The clothes they all wore for Thranduil's tree town are very green and bland, in a sense, whereas for Miriel's court everybody piles on the jewelry and loud colors.

Maglor picks him and Elwing out outfits that are very fancy; they both refuse to wear that much jewelry, to Maglor's chagrin [because 'it matches the look of the rest of it', he insists.

Glorfindel tries to convince both of them to let him pick out their outfits instead, and Maglor argues with him, as they two watch for fun. It's rather funny, how they go after each other. It's not just 'arguing', it's more like passion. Sometimes he thinks they are perilously close to seeing Glorfindel kiss Maglor during this type of thing.]

Now that she lives as a normal elf once more [well, as a queen, but still], Miriel actually presides over this 'day' as if it's her 'birthday', Maglor has told him.

So they all go to see her, and she visits with many elves [at her palace], and some bring their sewing to show her, since it's considered to be done by many out of respect for her. It's very weird, almost quasi-religious, Elrond told him once.

[Despite Elrond's statement, he and everyone else in new Rivendell seem to have fresh sewing work to show her. It's pretty wild. When he and Elwing say hi to her, he tells her he only knows how to mend sails.

"The practical is always wise," Miriel opines. "After it is handled, then it is time for art, and the fulfillment of the soul."

Elwing tells her she likes her fancy history tapestries; when Miriel looks surprised, since they are not accessible to the living, she explains that she can see them in everyone's minds that went to Mandos and saw them, and also her mind, too. Miriel says that's amazing.]

This event is spread out over many days, to make it easier for Miriel to do it, since she's not a full strength elf. She is weaker.

Earendil doesn't really do any 'art', so he has little to say about it all. Glorfindel is much more up to date on this stuff.

Later on at the [endless] parties of the Noldor, in the palace, Maglor sneaks away from his effusive and obsessive fan club and comes to see how Elwing and Earendil are doing. "We're good," Elwing tells him. "We've been watching all the elves and listening to their drama from over here with magic. They are funny people."

Earendil nods. Maglor looks amused.

The elves are funny. Lots of silly, meaningless drama that's fun to hear about. [Elrond is of course busy being talked to by kings, who seem to act like he is one too. Elrond is good at things like that.]

"Do you want to stay here with us, this will go on for many days – or go home?" Maglor says to them them.

It's hard to decide. He doesn't want to leave everyone, really. "I'll stay," Earendil finally says, and Elwing says she'll go to his parents' house. She turns into a bird and flies away.

After she departs, and Maglor takes Earendil with him to his childhood rooms in the palace. They find Elrond already there, playing some game with Nelyo and Finno.

"There's no wine?" Maglor asks, horrified by their lack of already poured spirits; they only have glasses of water.

Finno laughs. "I said we should wait for you, so we've abstained in the interim."

"Ah," Maglor scolds him. "I'll call for some right away." He gets a servant and instructs them.

The tray gets to them at some point, and there are other non-wine drinks on it too, so Earendil tries one.

Eventually they go to sleep, here in Maglor's old room and also in Nelyo's room beside his, and Maglor plays a 'sleep now' song for them. [At night, he and Elwing often debrief with each other, often during his dreams, so they do that now.] They spend days at the palace, and Earendil gets to see how the Noldor royals really live.

There are a lot of servants, for one. Everything's made out of precious metals and jewels. The rest of them kind of deal with the servants for him, which he likes. Maglor doesn't actually play very often, instead talking to elves who swarm him. Earendil either stands with him, or with Finno and Nelyo – he doesn't want to stand near Elrond, who is always with the most important people.

Maglor goes off with Earendil at times, and shows him different parts of the palace and grounds. Miriel is busy, since this is her festival, so he can't hang out with her; few people seem to be brave enough to talk to her usually, so he always says hi when he's there at a typical party. Galadriel comes and talks with him as well, which is nice of her.

Eventually they go home again.

And then everybody does actually come over all the time, unless he goes and takes a walk, and says he wants to be by himself, or with Elwing. It's nice, especially because none of them need him to entertain them unless he wants to talk to them.

It's kind of been making him nervous for a while, being alone. It's stupid. Obviously.

He knows that.

But that doesn't mean he can stop feeling that way. Maglor helps him avoid being alone – like now, if Elwing is going to be away, he goes and stays in Maglor's room in Elrond's part of the settlement in town, because it feels more relaxing nowadays to be closer to people. If he wants he can go and see everyone easier then, right away.

Just a few steps, and he can see Elrond with his books, and Glorfindel coming back from his sporting pursuits and going to take a bath, and Maglor writing down music that he's imagining.

And Glorfindel trying to cajole Maglor to give him a bath, and them bantering, and then Maglor saying 'take it or leave it, I will comb your hair but that's it.' And Glorfindel agreeing. It's nice to watch them all, to see what he was missing before, during the rest of his life [pretty much.]

Elrond really does read for hours, and Maglor tells him to 'pretend he's alive and not some book reading thingamabob', so he will smile and drink some tea. And Maglor does brush Glorfindel's hair, on a big towel.

Elrond takes Earendil with him sometimes when he goes and does things – like going to see different areas of the town, or going to talk to elves in whatever section.

At one point Glorfindel assures him that he'll 'be on the lookout for that creep!', ie. Feanor. Maglor really got everyone to buy that, huh, he thinks. Well, Maglor is very convincing, and rarely tries to tell anybody anything – unless it's something about music, obviously.

It's probably not too far off the mark, becaue Maglor once told him, "My father is so interested in all things unique that I won't let him near Elrond if I can help it – for truly he'd take his hand only to examine it as if it's a piece of new and fascinating gemstone work. And then surely he'd want to try experiments. Don't worry, I already warned Elwing and she continually updates me on my father's conduct. If he gets creepy around her I am going to make him regret it."

Thankfully Feanor has never actually done [or tried to do] anything to Elwing and Earendil, because Elwing probably would turn him into a frog [cue huge political crisis], and Earendil would run away [he doesn't want to fight an elf, no matter which one] to tell Elrond and Maglor [cue Elrond lecturing Feanor while Maglor probably stabs his father – Earendil doubts he needs much of an excuse, recently. One time he said he 'almost hopes he acts out, so I can go after him.']

Now that Glorfindel's parents live in new Rivendell, he and Maglor go see them often, so sometimes Earendil comes too, if either asks him if he wants to go. Glorfindel's parents are always enthused to see them all [obviously Earendil too], and ask them questions about this clearly magical town.

To them, all the Feanoreans are very mysterious. They can't believe their insane love of work and the 'different' culture of new Rivendell. Of course it's extremely unlike Gondolin – and new Gondolin.

Over time, they start to act a little tinsy bit more normal with Earendil. But just a little. They dress very ostentatiously [fancy clothes, jewels], almost like Glorfindel does, just more traditional and less artsy. It's funny how it seems inherited – just how Elrond likes plain clothes, like his blood parents. The same for Maglor, and how Nerdanel wears plain workclothes all the time, and Feanor too now, he's seen.

Feanor continues to show up to see his sons, and also says hi to Elwing and Earendil, if they are there. He also has Elrond tell him what he's reading about – and lets him know how any 'healing-centric' inventions are going.

One afternoon, he sees Feanor wander out of Maglor's general area looking very distraught. This is a common sight. Maglor is very sharp with him, Earendil knows.

And he knows he deserves it, even if he was also affected by Morgoth and all that.

But it's one thing to think that, and another to actually see someone look so upset. So he gets his attention, and gestures to him to follow him. Feanor does. He takes him to his house, and pours him some wine.

Just because Earendil rarely drinks doesn't mean the elves have left him without a stash of alcohol in his house. It's super convenient to offer to elves when they visit him.

Feanor hunches over on the sofa quietly for a long time, clutching his wine glass to his chest. Earendil sits with him quietly, in another chair. Finally he seems to come to a little, out of his thoughts, and says, looking up at him, "This is very hard."

He nods.

"Have you had to do this too?" Feanor asks him. He can tell he doesn't mean it rudely or something, he's just looking for commonality, for support.

"I'm not as far along in the process as you, I don't think Elrond will talk to me with real honesty yet," Earendil explains. "I almost wish he would. I mean, it would fuck me up, obviously, more than I already am. But still."

Feanor squints at him. "Elrondaro seems like he's on both sides at once," he says, puzzled.

"I don't think my side's really a side," Earendil explains. "I think he just feels sorry for me and his– for Elwing."

Feanor looks at him for a long moment. "I have watched you before," he says quietly. "From the halls. Even I have felt sorry for you."

"Thanks," Earendil says, shrugging.

"Well," Feanor says, and sighs. "Let me know if Kano wants me. I think I'll go home for now."

He doesn't look like much of a powerful genius king right now, Earendil thinks. He looks like a sad old person.

"I would say something comforting, but I'm not really good at that stuff," he tells him. "It's Maglor who is."

"Yes," Feanor agrees. "I have seen that, before. He is verily unpleased that I watched his life, from the halls."

"At least you know his life, even from a distance," Earendil points out bitterly. "I don't know anything, practically." And nobody was happy that he knew a scant few things from everyone's prayers to the 'star'. Ouch.

Feanor looks at him, confused. "Surely Kano would tell you anything you want to know?"

Earendil laughs. "Elrond would not be happy with that. And Maglor would never betray him. They are a real family. … Not like me and her, or even both of our parents, in a way. They are very close, they even live together."

Of course Elrond and Maglor have always both pretended that Maglor 'has' to live in new Rivendell for all the usual reasons, but the truth is they just want to be close to each other. Except for when Maglor sent Elrond [and his brother] to Gil-Galad, they've been together for almost Elrond's entire life, really, since Elrond got Maglor back, recovering him later from the shore. The two of them are family. And close – not like many elven families, where they, parents and children, don't always all live together later on, thousands of years later.

"Well," Feanor says frankly, "I would not wish this on someone else. But it is kind of pleasing, to know I am not alone in being spurned by my children."

"None of your children decided to die the permanent way instead of ever meet you, so I think you're coming out ahead regardless," Earendil tells him dryly.

Feanor looks sympathetic. "You and Thingol and Melian, have lost a child, like that," he notes quietly. "Fading counts too, I imagine, almost."

So Daeron's parents, he must mean, he thinks.

"Poor company to keep," Earendil opines. "I would never speak to either of them. Unless it was protect everybody else. Anyway, I shouldn't keep you. I don't want Maglor to be annoyed that I talked to you."

"Just blame it on me," Feanor says wearily. "He is incensed about that stone I gave Nolo. How cursed I am – all I create is ruined, and scorned. From jewelry to children."

"Well, it turned around a little bit for me, eventually," Earendil tells him. "Maybe someday something good will happen. Maybe time will change things."

"I don't think so," Feanor tells him simply, looking down. "Elves have long memories. And even longer grudges. You are probably luckier because you are no mere elf."

Oh. True, he thinks. And Elrond isn't either, which explains his kindness to him and Elwing. Maglor though has no exemption like this, yet he is very powerful in his own way, so perhaps that makes him a very unusual elf.

"How is Curvo doing?" Earendil asks him, not knowing what to say next.

"Oh," Feanor says, surprised. "He is much better. He and that maid appear to be getting along, and he's recovering well, with her help, it seems. I don't love the idea of him living with a servant, but … anything that helps him is good. Even Elrondaro could only help him so much."

After a while, Feanor leaves, and as soon as he does, Elwing appears.

She looks at Earendil, and says, "He was thinking about how you are lucky that we are said to be together so excessively, because he thinks his wife is playacting being married for their children, not because their life together is real."

Earendil hmms. "I am lucky – that there is another like me. Kinda. And that she's alright."

Elwing smiles crookedly at him. Not a perfect elf smile at all, which often look fake and superficial. "Just alright?"

"I guess she's okay, a little … " Earendil says, to tease her, and she laughs and tackles him. They end up breaking the chair by accident. He can make a new one at the docks, so it's okay.

That night when they rest, she tells him in a dream that she has Maglor pretend she's sick and help her sometimes so it's 'equal' – "because you get sick more often, and it's not fair he doesn't do stuff for me too," Elwing concludes.

He laughs.

"Maglor must find us annoying, just in different ways," he notes, but Elwing shakes her head, serious.

"He feels good, to do it, to be with us," she explains. "He is very angry about how bad our lives were. He likes to help us. I can see his mind – he knows more stuff than we do."

"Yeah," Earendil agrees. He doesn't have to have magic powers to know that. Maglor probably had one of the best educations an elf could have, literally ever. And he's smart in the first place.

"He likes to be needed," Elwing says. "With Nelyo, with Elrond, with us. And even with Glorfindel. I think he thinks of himself as being worthwhile for his power, his skill. He can feel good about himself then, instead of thinking about what he did before – the bad stuff, I mean."

"I can't imagine him killing," Earendil admits to her.

She looks at him in a evaluating way. "I can show you," she finally says. "I was afraid, when he got here. I'm sure you remember. He is very dangerous."

Earendil hesitates. Seeing Maglor wipe people out aggressively would be upsetting and sad to see for several reasons.

"Or, I could just show you him and Galadriel ripping down the bad house," Elwing tells him, so he nods.

And then he sees a dark forest, and elves, and Maglor looks dead, of course, just standing up. Galadriel is there, and they are both singing [Elwing mutes the noise of that a bit in this dream of it] at a very evil-looking tower. A house of pure evil, indeed, he thinks.

They sing it down, destroying it, and the other elves stare at them in pure astonishment for a little bit before they move in. Galadriel walks away with Maglor, after it.

Then the vision is gone. He did look very aggressive in that moment. But that's still not real killing.

It's just that Earendil is afraid to see Maglor being truly scary, since he wants him to comfort him when he's ill, or sad, or having a zillionth mental breakdown over everything.

"I get it," Elwing says. "I wish I couldn't see everything either. I have seen him in his worst moments. But I have also seen him in his best moments, too. Like when he took the boys."

He hugs her, in the dream [she's a floating star image.] Her power is just a burden, half the time. It sucks.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad," she agrees, responding to his thoughts. "I don't like knowing what everyone is feeling. Especially if it's about me. That's not fun. Only a few people think nice things about me."

And about him, Earendil knows. The people who actually know him know all about his grievious sins.

After a few weeks, Earendil goes and visits his parents. He can't take Elrond with him because he's busy seeing Finarfin and Fingolfin, who now want to meet with him and Maglor and Nelyo more often, after the 'not a silmaril but we freaked out' scare. And Elwing is out at her mother's house.

Surprisingly, Gil-Galad asks if he can see his parents, and so comes along. They like him. They are easy-going people, really.

He hangs out with them for a while. Gil-Galad is a great guest, and he brings a lot of elves with him, not just his elves but also Feanorean elves too. Earendil's parents are nice, they are just hard to hang out with long term.

All he can think about when he sees them is how they had to leave him [which he understands], of how his mother chose him a father that would naturally die and also condemned him to death with the same blood. … Having Gil-Galad there is great because it's a distraction, honestly.

They return to new Rivendell after a little while, and everybody else comes back eventually. Gil-Galad is nice enough to hang out with him at times, seeing as he's the king of the area and also his son's lover.

Chapter Text

Melian shows up on a random holiday, when Earendil and Elwing are off on a 'musical education' trip. Maglor [and Elrond] sometimes thinks of things they should see, hear, try, etc, and at times he cannot come himself, due to no one in Finarfin's court wanting to play music before him, for example. Same for music on the shore, or other places.

Earendil's parents are actually being hosted at new Rivendell right now, because once in a great while they like to come by and see Elrond, their grandchild, and Maglor, who Earendil has told them is special to him, and to Elwing, not just to Elrond.

It's convenient to be gone when they are in new Rivendell, because he doesn't always love having to be around them. It's not their fault, it's just how it is. Elwing is like this about Nimloth and even them [his parents], too, at times.

Maglor had sent him and Elwing to Finarfin's court to listen to old music, that is as close as they have to what was sung and eventually played at Cuiviénen. Glorfindel comes with them in Maglor's stead, really, and seems to enjoy it.

But then later in the day, when Earendil is just wandering around Tirion for fun really, to see the markets, and Elwing is still in the palace with Glorfindel, all hanging out with Eärwen and Anairë, Earendil wanders out beyond Tirion, just enjoying his walk.

And then Melian appears to him, in the reflection of a little pond he was sitting by, just to look at it. She does not look like an elf; instead she looks like a thing, a morass of power, eyes coming from an abyss, somehow. He startles, and she says, in her unelven, inhuman voice, "I understand her anger," Melian tells him, as he stares at her-in-the-reflection [-somehow] in shock. "But I do love her. Is she well? I can get anything for her."

Earendil just stares at her for a long time, unable to think. Why him, why now, why why why why–

"I feel like we're all so hatefully similar," he finally says back. "We all prioritized ourselves over our family. And look what happened. Elrond will never love me. The other one … too. And Elwing's life was horrific, cause of you and that fucker. I can't believe you picked that fuck as your husband and let him do that shit. I mean to the elves in general? I can imagine you not caring, you have no soul. You are a monster. But to Elwing? To Dior, to Nimloth? To Elwing's brothers? But how can I say something so hypocritical, when I was out, leaving Elwing and my sons behind. I too am a monster."

"Intent matters, you are no sinner," Melian argues. "You could even touch the stone."

"Oh god, that shit," he says, exasperated. "Really? Fuck Varda, I can tell you that. No mortal hands, right? That wasn't true. And think of all the good Maglor did for our children, and it burns him? Really? So stealing something in a cool way means you suddenly own it cause the real owners fucked up? Fuck that. You disgusting creatures. I can't stand you little false gods, hopped up on your own power. And I will never inform on Elwing to you. You are no relation to her. … But I know your pain, for I am just as wretched as you. There is no way forward. It's over."

"It is not over for you," Melian contests.

He just looks at her. "It is for both of us. You'll figure it out eventually. The time when Elwing could have known you, loved you, is gone forever. It's the same for me, and my kids. At least I have the consolation that for your evil, you lost your daughter and grandson forever. Just like I lost one of my sons. Is Thingol still crazy? Did the stone warp his mind?"

She looks upset, and fades away, until the water in the pond is just water again. Must be yes then, as the answer about Thingol.

He gets up and walks back to the palace, and hangs out in Maglor's old room [since he said he and Elwing could stay there.] Maglor showed them which string to pluck on a harp in there that would help them go to sleep, since he wouldn't be there himself to do it. It seems like hogwash, but then when they try it, it does weirdly seem to help. Who knows.

When he goes in the room, Elwing tells him mentally, 'Finwe wants to 'hang out' with us, I think. Ugh.'

He grimaces too. He updates her on the Melian thing, and she frowns. "At least she was quick about it," Elwing finally says. "I will have to send her a message, saying 'stop talking to you'."

Insanely, Elwing's willing messenger to Melian is Celegorm, to whom the maiar are nothing, compared to Orome himself.

They both walk out to where Elwing can sense he is. Feanor is not there; he must be at home in Nerdanel's house. Celegorm is there, with Finwe, when they arrive to where he is – Maglor has told them that his wild brother often hunts on behalf of Maglor for the benefit of Fingolfin's people, and Finarfin's, too. Maglor asks Celegorm to go hunting, and to bring the catch to the palace as a kind of vague 'sorry' thing, even though Celegorm is not sorry at all, which everyone already knows … he is not one for dissembling. Everyone knows that too.

It's quite clear how Celegorm doesn't care at all, but is willing to obey Maglor and Nelyo in this, interestingly.

["Those two know it's the best we can do in terms of the rest of us," Maglor has told Earendil and Elwing, referring to Finarfin, Fingolfin, re every Feanorean blood brother except the first two.]

Maglor also went over some basics with them, about Fingolfin and Finarfin's palace culture situation: like how they mustn't say 'thank you' or things like that to servants, and Maglor helped them pack, picking out their clothes and accessories and jewelry. And he also wrote down lists of things they should ask to eat and which songs to ask to hear [usually they go there with Maglor himself, so no musicians will play while he is there] – Earendil just gives the lists to Fingolfin, and he and Finarfin pore over them intensely. Clearly, it's a compliment, that Maglor thinks so highly of certain things of theirs that he's telling Earendil he should ask to experience them. The two kings are very pleased.

Everything is very formal, all the time. It's still uncomfortable, but at least Earendil is used to it more, now.

Earendil also gets to meet Elwing's new friends more in depth, Eärwen and Anairë. They're nice. They treat Elwing [and him] kindly, and don't say anything when it's very obvious that she's not like them, and doesn't know about elves, or normal life. They ask about Maglor and his music [they and literally everyone else are a fan], which are questions with easy answers.

After they've run through Maglor's list, they go home. The two kings say they can stay, but they have had enough of palace culture. Elwing says farewell to her lady friends, and they both, with Glorfindel, trek back to new Rivendell.

Erestor is there smiling at the entrance of the valley when Earendil gets off his horse [Elwing is on his shoulder as a bird]. "Well? Have you enjoyed them more than us?" he teases Glorfindel.

"No, they think too much," Elwing tells him, still a bird. "They don't just act off the cuff, like you guys do."

Erestor walks back with them and Glorfindel to Elrond's rooms in town. "They're politicians, that's what they're supposed to do, I suppose, Princess. Anyhow, did you hear about what happened here?" he asks.

They say no, and he fills them in.

"Apparently, the other elves have heard about our little contests, and want to be involved," Erestor explains, as they walk together into town. "I assumed they'd want to do the martial ones, but instead they want to do, par example, the baking contests. The sweets contest, the art stuff. Who'd of thought that – isn't that weird? So the high king and Lord Elrond have been working on it, to come up with some solution. Of course we don't want our original stuff ruined or changed, but no one wants the other elves offended by rejections, either. How was the palace?"

"Fine," Glorfindel opines. "Like what I would expect."

"I don't care for it," Elwing says honestly. She's still a bird. "There are lots of elves all around. All crowded."

"Yeah," Earendil agrees.

Here in new Rivendell it's much more relaxed, and in Elrond's area his servants aren't 'around' in some nebulous way. They are nearby if Elrond wants to call them, but not waiting right beside him. There's a lot of space, and nature and openness everywhere.

They all go in to Elrond's study, and Maglor and him are there. Glorfindel kisses Maglor on the cheek and sits next to him. Maglor both leans against him and also does not protest his 'public-ish for them' smooch, which means he must have missed him.

Elrond insists to him and Elwing, "Sit down and tell us all of your trip. But we can wait, if you want to rest first."

"I want to lay down," Elwing tells them. "Will you touch my hair and sing me to sleep?" she asks Maglor, who agrees, so she flies onto his shoulder, and he walks to one of his rooms nearby to that end with her.

Earendil updates Elrond with Glorfindel on their trip in the meantime, and eventually they can hear the sound of Maglor making music in the distance, muted by the walls and doors.

And then Maglor returns, and tells Earendil, "You must tell me everything, your review of what was on my list. Do you want to rest with Elwing, here, tonight?"

"Yes," he says, taking out the list from his pocket. He doesn't like to be alone, he's finding, more and more. Even to sleep.

Earendil reports his thoughts on all the food items on the list, and the songs, too. Interestingly, his opinions are often the same as Elrond's, which is pleasing for all of them. Elrond seems to like it when they are similar, which is nice. While those moments are really few and far between, it is enjoyable to have any similarities with him, especially since he actually is much more like Maglor than he'll ever be like Earendil.

He is sure that Elros, his dead child, who he can only think of as a baby despite knowing he was a king, was more like him – in the sense of not being like Elrond, that is. Not prefering books, or study, or stuff like that.

Elrond is almost sometimes a picture perfect copy of Maglor, just less imperious, less commanding, less musical. … And with a kind of tinge of magic to him, and of course he looks like Elwing, in every way.

But he is utterly at home in the privilege of being on top of society, like Maglor. He is as cultured and refined as him. Now that Maglor finally wears colors in his clothes again, it's almost strange to see him, since he's lacking his usual black or almost black colored raiment – Elrond still wears darker stuff like that, just fancy-ish looking.

Finno stops in to check that his father was appropriately polite to Earendil and his wife, which he confirms for him. Then he leaves to go back to Nelyo, with Maglor in tow. Glorfindel goes to lay down in his room in the meantime, and there's just Earendil and Elrond left.

"Do you want to see the latest experiemental fruits?" Elrond asks him.

He nods. And follows him to the aptly named 'experimental fruit pavillion'. There are extremely strange crosses of fruit, it's pretty nuts.

It makes him think a little of himself, and Elwing, and Elrond. How their blood is all weird, and doesn't make sense. Like these nonsense fruits don't make sense – like a cherry-watermelon. Or a pineapple-blueberry.

Elrond's team of elves in this special area let him try the crazy new fruits … they taste as weird as you would expect. He says it's all 'interesting'. It's not that any are bad, or taste poorly, it just tastes odd.

As they walk through even more super rare and expensive plants, Elrond asks him about court. "Did you hate it as much as I do?"

"Oh, way more," Earendil says frankly. "God. It's ridiculous. The elves dress so over the top, it's like they're trying to prove something. I don't understand that world. So many servants, for no reason. It's so boring."

"Yes, so much stuff and nonsense," Elrond agrees. "I must admit, when I see Nolo and Ara, I immediately think of all their stragetic past errors. I am afraid it's hard at times not to think of them as the grotesque replacements for Feanor – I pity them, honestly. The chip on their shoulders is enormous, and they wear it poorly. If Finwe had any honor, none of them would exist. But I would not want Nelyo without Finno, so I am happy for that mistake to have occurred, in that regard, at least. And Galadriel is my friend."

He nods.

"Not to mention Gil-Galad … " Elrond adds, in an amused tone. "Is it strange to you, for me to like someone?"

Earendil shrugs. "No. But everything is strange to me. So, not more than anything else. It's so hard, to think you are that little baby. You must be. But it's so hard, to … reconcile."

He looks over at Elrond, who is looking at him gravely. "I understand," Elrond tells him after a little while. "It must be hard, to know me, after everything. I am myself, unlike others, or you and mother. I do not desire to be like Nelyo, nor Maglor, either. I prefer the freedom of living here, in my own self-created world, apart from the burdensome culture of the elves."

"I like it here too, but it is nice to know you," Earendil tells him, and Elrond smiles.

"My friend described you with such flourish," Elrond adds, as they continue walking through frankly enormous fruit areas together. "I continue to be shocked you don't hover over the ground from innate magicalness."

Earendil huffs a laugh. "Maglor described me too greatly. … Too kindly. I have spent my whole life in grief. Seeing him wear colors again – it makes me almost feel like I too am coming out of mourning."

Elrond hmms. "It does feel like a new era, I agree. I suppose I never thought I would see the day, after so long. But I am glad for him. He has suffered enough, and lived here in solitude far longer than even his enemies wanted. And I am glad for you, and mother, too. For now is the time for your happiness, and leisure."

They walk back to Elrond's study in town. It is interesting how Elrond's elves, the Feanoreans, keep to their work even if he is there – whereas the real Noldors often seem to speak to their rulers, instead. This must be Elrond's preference.

"I am also happy that you two find the same comfort in my friend that I always have," Elrond continues. "For I know my brother did not, despite Lindir's great efforts. I had worried, before, that if you ever met, you and mother would be like him, in not cleaving to Lindir. Instead of me, who found great comfort in his affection."

Earendil can't imagine it, honestly. Maglor is their only friend. They only feel comfortable being taken care of by him.

He offers them absolution and gentleness from his own fallen state – and it resonates with both of them, who have too fallen into sin and ruin. Maglor's life was destroyed, just like their lives were.

Also, it's super convenient that he knows all about their special blood caused differences. They don't have to explain why they are 'weird' comparatively; he doesn't regard them with confusion or awe or puzzlement. He acts like they are absolutely the natural ones, and it is the elves who are odd.

It's such a relief.

"Maybe your brother was just tougher than us," Earendil says frankly. "We have no strength left. We just want to rest."

"It is the same for me," Elrond agrees. "Using my ring, and worrying over Lindir, it was intense. For so long, we worried. And then after he'd recovered quite a bit, we worried for him to be found by others – especially over here. It was a fraught time, when we first arrived in Aman. I was not in the right mindset to meet you and mother. I was so tired. I must have come off very poorly."

Earendil puts a hand on his arm, gently. Elrond is a small person, not huge like Glorfindel, or Gil-Galad, or Earendil himself.

He stops walking and looks at him. "We were very frightened of you then," Earendil explains. "We didn't know what to say – what could be said? Anything, everything would be an affront. Offensive. There's no way for us to justify what we did. There's no way you can forgive us. You seemed fine. We were aware we made a mess of it."

"Father," Elrond tells him, looking surprised. "I do forgive you both. Just as I forgive Lindir. And I forgive myself, too. We are all the result of no win scenarios, of the traps laid by our forefathers. If I condemned you and mother and Lindir, I would be condemning myself as well, I tell you. Just as Lindir had mercy upon me as a boy, I have it for him – and for you, who has seemed to forgive me for loving Lindir as mine own mother."

"That is not ours to forgive," Earendil opines. "Who could blame a child for taking another parent after the real ones left them to die? Our sin is magnified in Maglor's goodness."

"I am glad to get to have so many people now as parents, as family," Elrond tells him, and then whispers in osanwe, "unlike Gil-Galad, who only has Cirdan, for his own parents are … not what I would choose. If you grasp my meaning. But I have you three, all here with me. And I am happy it is so."

"Me too," Earenedil tells him, and lets go of his arm, cause he just realized he was still holding onto it.

Back in town, Elrond's study is empty of people, and they both go out into different rooms, and he goes and lays down next to Elwing. She asks him with osanwe, while still looking asleep, 'Do you want me to ask Maglor to come stay with us until you fall into slumber?'

Earendil shrugs to himself, looking up at the ceilling of the room. It's painted like a real blue sky, with clouds.

"He's probably busy with his own life," Earendil tells her, out loud, quietly.

'He's over at Nelyo's,' Elwing says. 'But I think he will stop over for us, and then go back afterwards.'

"... Okay," Earendil agrees.

He lays the side of his face against her shoulder. It always feels right when they're together, like they are two puzzle pieces that fit.

After a while, Maglor shows up, and peeks in the room. "You can come in," Earendil tells him. They can both sense his familiar energy from a distance.

He comes into the darkened room and sits on the bed beside where they are laying. "Are you both terribly weary?" Maglor asks them. "How was your rest before, Princess?"

Elwing answers 'kinda and good' with osanwe, letting Earendil hear it too, while he answers out loud, "More tired mentally, than physically."

Maglor strokes his hair a little.

He closes his eyes in the darkness of the room and enjoys it. "Do you think I could have some wood from the carpenter elves here?" Earendil asks Maglor.

He hmms, thinking. "I don't think they'd mind. They'd probably be excited that someone is interested in their world of wood, honestly," Maglor tells him. "Why don't I ask them, and see how they react."

"Okay," Earendil agrees.

He stays with them for a while, and they all talk idly, a bit. And then he plays his harp for them to help them sleep better, after brushing their hair. It's weird how it's simple, but feels so different than when he does it himself.

The next morning Maglor has left a note for him in Elrond's study room, where Glorfindel is devouring some savory buckwheat galettes that look amazing. He gestures to the piece of folded paper, so Earendil opens it and reads as he and Elwing sit down to breakfast.

He can tell it's from Maglor anyway cause of his handwriting. It's like Elrond's, but not – more decorative looking. Elrond writes more straightforwardly, but still very elegantly. [Earendil's hand is like chicken scratch, and Elwing's looks like random marks that are hard to parse, even when she tries to write well. Maglor's Quenya practice worksheets have made little inroads on this problem.]

The note says:
To the bright E –
The wood people insist I must find out what kinds you want, many kinds are grown. I said I would ask you, but they wanted to send you some to have on hand right away, to your house. It was like a runaway horse of eager work, I could not stop them. I insisted I knew nothing of your interest when they pressed me. Now they want to ask you of it, but don't want to bother you, and so are bothering me – so as you can imagine, I was forced to fib to shut them up. So much for how they avoid me, compared to how they want to avoid you I am nothing – ha. I said you were building some magical thingy that elves had never seen before. This astonished them. Feel free to back me up if anyone asks and say it's 'secret' so they don't figure out I am a consummate liar.

Maglor signed the note with just a little crude drawing of his harp crest, Earendil recognizes it. It's just a circle with a harp. Elrond told him once he used to put the Feanorean star in there, just under the harp, like too much of a picture on top of a picture, but didn't anymore after he healed him.

He knows he called him 'bright' in the opening salutation because that is one of Earendil's famous epithets – like how elves call him the Blessed, or the Mariner, or the Half-elf. … Like how Elrond is called that, he thinks. He didn't really think of it like that. But it's nice to have some tie to him, in a convoluted sense.

Typically he resents and despises how the elves call him cutesy names, but he knows Maglor always says it in jokey way. When he says it, it's like he's mocking the elves for their dorkiness, instead of being creepy to Earendil. Also, he's confirmed this verbally before, so it's more than just a hunch.

"He's over with his brother," Glorfindel informs him, when he looks up from the letter. "He only came back for a minute this morning."

"Are you not jealous of Nelyo?" Elwing asks him, while picking up an entire bowl of fruit and 'disappearing' the fruit. Eating it, that is, in her own magical way.

Glorfindel looks surprised. "Well, not really," he hedges. "But yeah, I guess so. It's hard to be jealous of someone so … in that situation, though."

Someone tortured by Morgoth, Earendil thinks.

"I mean, would I like Maglor being so, well, over the top," Glorfindel starts, and then stops. "Okay, no. I wouldn't, really. I like how he is already. He's very … prickly. Not in a bad way. But like, independent, you know? He doesn't care about the rules or society, or the elves, or whatever. He's in his own world. I like that about him. If he hung on my every word, he'd be like all the other elves, who act like I'm some piece of meat to brag about. Maglor wouldn't brag about me if someone tried to bribe him to."

Elwing laughs. They look at her.

"He does," she tells Glorfindel. "Just in his own head, to nobody but himself. You're the only one he likes. You reassured him when he woke up at first before, in Elrond's house. He likes that you talked to him then. He relies on you, cause your interest in him makes him feel like he's not worthless, and better off dead, after all."

Glorfindel just stares at her, shocked.

"Yes, really," Elwing adds. Glorfindel must have been going to say that, Earendil thinks, as he tries some more breakfast food [nice warm pieces of toast with different jams.] "You are the only person who gives to him, instead of just needing him. Everyone else naturally 'takes' from him. It sustains him, to have you."

" … Do you think he'll like the present I got him?" Glorfindel asks her.

Elwing laughs. "He thinks the stuff you like is weird. But he likes that you thought of him. That makes it special to him."

"Hmm," Glorfindel murmurs to himself, thinking about it. He eventually goes off to intercept Maglor at Nelyo's, no doubt.

It feels good to know that Maglor is with someone who really cares about him, and that Glorfindel was chosen by Maglor in that sense. Because Glorfindel really dotes on him, and they both always talk about each other.

Elrond doesn't show up at breakfast, and he assumes he's with Gil-Galad off somewhere until he goes back to his house, after eating, and finds a lot of wood stacked next to the side of his house, and also Elrond, inside his house. Elwing has already left, earlier; she often goes off and does her own thing.

They both need time apart, a lot of it. [Even though Earendil wants to be less alone now, he still has moments where he wants to be in the room next door to everyone, and hear them through the wall, faintly.] That's just how it is; it must be due to their blood, he thinks. And also, they are both used to being alone. It's hard to break a long habit, even if they want to try sometimes.

When Earendil enters his own house, Elrond looks up from his book and says, point blank, "I'm hiding here."

"Why?" he asks him. He goes and sits down near him in the room he's in.

"Because Curvo and Feanor are here, and Tylpe is taking them out to meet Nimloth, and I don't want to be 'findable' when that disaster in the making hits the fan," Elrond explains simply. "I can only imagine how Nelyo and my friend are going to react when they find out later. They already booked it out of here, them two and Finno; I think mother went with them as well. They are going to hide in Thranduil's trees, because the elves there want to meet Finno, which is a good excuse."

He kind of nods at this – who wouldn't want to meet Finno? Honestly. He is pretty much the bravest elf to ever live, most elves think. Earendil is on board.

"Glorfindel has stayed here in case I do something cool with magic when Feanor inevitably pisses off Lady Nimloth," Elrond adds.

So he spends some time with Elrond, who reads while Earendil works on building some furniture with the new wood the elves have given him.

[At other times, when Elwing is there too, she goes and reads her Quenya practice storybooks in a separate room, not wanting Elrond to see how incredibly simple they are up close – she has some pride.]

Eventually Glorfindel knocks on the front door, so Elrond calls to Earendil that he's got it, and lets him in.

"Well, I went to ask Lady Nimloth what happened," Glorfindel tells them, as Earendil puts his furniture work down and comes in to listen. Glorfindel is quite like Celegorm, he thinks – they both seem to have no fear gene and are not intimidated by anyone or any topic. "Since the border elves told me they'd gone. And she said that Feanor came out looking great compared to Curvo – Feanor told her he thought Elwing was cool, to sum it up," Glorfindel says to him; he smiles. "But Curvo seemed to think that Tylpe saying he liked Nimloth was some type of plot to shove it in Curvo's face that he's irredeemable, and Tylpe didn't like that. He said he would never insult Lady Nimloth like that. In the end Feanor took Curvo away, and they left from the town here altogether. Somebody's gotta send up a flag somehow telling everyone else that they're all clear to come home from Thranduil's."

Elwing later returns, with the rest of them.

Finno is pleased to have gotten to meet Thranduil, knowing he is Elrond's friend. Over time recently, Earendil knows that Elwing has spoken to Thranduil on her own, despite his connection to Doriath. They apparently enjoy criticizing the outfits of Noldor elves together, disliking them greatly; she shows Thranduil images of the ones she's seen with osanwe.

[When Glorfindel hears of it, she has to assure him that she's only doing it to get to know Elrond's friends – because while Glorfindel likes to talk fashion, he isn't very anti-Noldor, really, as one can imagine, and Elwing dislikes all of the elves equally, unless she or Elrond likes one of them specifically.]

"They were lovely, to the Princess, I thought," Maglor tells them, in the downstairs sitting room in Nelyo's house. He and Finno are upstairs resting after the trip, and Elrond is off talking to Glorfindel and Gil-Galad. "I asked her when we were coming back, and she agreed."

Elwing herself has already left the area to go on a crazy adventure with Celegorm. Maglor briefed her repeatedly to leave him to die if he did something stupid, as opposed to trying to save him with magic. She told Earendil all this before she left; he told her have fun. It's nice to see her have friends, and adventures and have a whole life, now. Earendil is not as exciting.

"What were they like to you two?" Earendil asks him. Surely some of the survivors of Doriath are going to be wroth with the sons of Feanor.

"I explained we were there at the Princess' behest, as her servants," Maglor clarifies. "They seemed pleased. And of course I elaborated on my desire to hear their music, as the music of the Noldor is not enough for me. I like to hear all kinds. It is so nice to hear them play without a care for my presence."

Unlike most of the other types of elves, Earendil knows. Most won't play before Maglor himself – it's like doing some smithing before Feanor himself. It's just unheard of.

"Only my gap people will play for me, here," Maglor continues. "But that is just because I asked them to, so long ago, when we were there. Anyway, how were both of you, in the meantime?"

Earendil shrugs. "Pretty good. The elves gave me some wood. A lot of it, really. So I was making some stuff with it. And Elrond read some books, but I guess that's usual."

Maglor looks amused.

"What was he like as a little boy?" he asks him, feeling a little constriction in his chest at thinking about what happened back then.

Maglor blinks, and considers it. "He was very much like he is now, really," he muses. "He liked reading. He read every book we had, so then we had to trade for more. And he could recall each one perfectly, he was very interested in them. He liked studying healing and healing plants, and he liked hearing me play. He was only given to adventuring intellectually, he was always close by."

" … Were you like that, when you were little?" Earendil asks, since it's the obvious question.

Maglor laughs, in the 'that's silly' way. "Oh, no. I was bothering Nelyo constantly. And making a racket on instruments, of course. I didn't care for my studies at all, I only cared for music. I think my tutors tried to shoehorn in vague links to music to try to get me interested in anything else."

"My mother says I liked to play outdoors," Earendil offers. "One time, Nimloth said that Elwing liked stuffed toys and playing in water."

"Like Elros," Maglor notes. They are both silent for a moment. The whole thing is sad – that Earendil had barely a childhod, that Elwing had none, and that Elros had a good one after Maglor scooped him up, and chose to die anyway.

"I feel like the grief just drowns me," he tells him.

Maglor looks empathetically at him. "Do you want to talk about it, or rest?" he asks. "Or both?"

"Both," he admits. Maglor comes and sits next to him, and puts an arm across his shoulder, behind him. He's so much smaller that it's like he's a little doll, comparatively.

It's insane to think Feanor had him fight, despite his destructive power; he's just too non-buff, really.

He leans back against the couch and turns his head towards him. "I used feel that way, just in my own way," Maglor tells him. "Back after Elrond woke me up. It is a strange thing, to wake up after you think you've died. I had a lot of time to rue everything – my life, my mistakes, my bad deeds. In the end I get just got distracted by other things, and it made the pain lesser. But it definitely changed me. The me I was, in Aman originally, is gone forever."

"So time heals it?" Earendil asks him.

"I don't think 'heal', maybe 'improves a little', instead," Maglor explains. "For me it is easy, when I think of how I couldn't leave Nelyo, and then I could not leave the boys. So in a sense, I have no regrets – and a million, all at the same time. For you, you and her were put in an impossible position, too young."

"Like your father did to you," Earendil comments.

Maglor makes a moue of 'maybe'; very unelven-like. "I wouldn't say that to anyone else," he answers.

Yeah, he knows. The elves would get angry if he compared Maglor to himself by any metric – both the anti-Feanorean elves, and also realistically probably the Feanorean elves, who see Maglor and Nelyo as good and heroic, and Earendil [and Elwing] as a wicked thief.

"Come," Maglor adds, "let us leave Nelyo to rest. Do you want to go to your house with me, or for me to go to my own room?"

He rises, and Earendil gets up too. "We could go to my house," he suggests, and Maglor nods.

"How is your furniture coming?" Maglor asks him, as they walk out of the house, and softly close the doors. Then they trek over to Earendil's demesne.

"Okay," he says. "I'm going pretty slow. The wood they gave me was nice. They gave me a lot."

The Feanoreans are always nice to him. It must be because Elrond and Maglor asked them to be, since he was literally their enemy.

When they get to his house, he shows Maglor the pile of wood. "Is it suitable?" he asks Earendil, peering at it. "I'm afraid I don't know about furniture making."

"Yeah, it's good," he judges. They go inside, and Maglor suggests they eat, and he agrees. Maglor orders a page to fetch some food, and then sprawls himself on one of the couches and compains about his family until the food comes.

" – Why are you smiling?" Maglor interrupts himself to ask.

Earendil shrugs.

It's just funny. Sometimes Maglor seems like some ancient who takes care of little destroyed him, who is so much younger and less educated than he is, and at other times Maglor seems like a fellow youth, bitching about normal stuff.

Well, except for that his family is pretty intense and unique. But still.

"It's funny when you talk about them," he explains.

Maglor looks at him quizzically.

"I guess I thought of them as magical, wild people, and they're not," Earendil elucidates. "They're pretty normal, in their own ways. It's funny when you talk about them the same way Elwing talks about her brothers. Like they're average, annoying people."

Maglor hmms, acknowledging this. Since the pages with trays have arrived, they pause to try food -- well, Earendil does. Maglor drinks some crushed fruit cream drink.

"They are very annoying," Maglor decides, swirling his spoon in his cup. "A bunch of headstrong idiots. Just like my father. It is lucky for me that I am said to be more like Nerdanel -- Nelyo is too, but you'll never hear someone say it in the non-hair and complexion way. It should have been Curvo born first, honestly. He's got the shittiness for it, he should have been the heir, he's more like father than me and Nelyo. We do not crave a crown. Even Celegorm doesn't want to rule."

"I can't understand how he fears nothing," Earendil says, regarding Celegorm.

"Mhm," Maglor agrees. "We can't either. He's simply different. I remember as a youth he was then as well, too. Nelyo and I were good children, studious in our fields, and we were mannered enough to even meet Finarfin and Fingolfin. But Celegorm could never be brought to meet them -- he is too naturally wild. Not always in a bad way, but often in a way the elves don't appreciate. Also definitely often in a bad way, too."

They have a nice repast together, and then Maglor plays for him before going out. He wakes up on the couch, with blankets over him.

Earendil makes everyone little pieces of furniture, over time, and keeps them in his house. Better to offer then when they need things replaced, or when something breaks. He doesn't like the idea of imposing.

Sometimes if Elwing and Celegorm see something cool during their exploration, she brings Earendil to see whatever it is, which is nice.

He often thinks about that statue Nerdanel made, of Elros. It's in a garden in new Rivendell. He can't bring himself to go there.

He wonders if Thingol and Melian have ever gotten over losing a child permanently -- but then Melian is no normal creature. So just Thingol, then. He can't ask Nimloth, who lost her husband forever.

So finally he explains to Elwing that he wants to speak to him, and she has no problem with it. "Be super mean," she encourages him, and he smiles.

And then he goes off, alone, to seek him out by new Doriath. He can't tell Elrond, cause he'll have to contemplate the politics of this or whatever -- if Earendil goes alone without telling anyone, then this is just his own lunacy, and doesn't reflect on anyone else.

He takes a horse and mainly walks beside it on the way through the beautiful nature of Aman. It doesn't look like Sirion, or Gondolin, in his faint memories. And it's not the same as new Rivendell, either. When he gets close to new Doriath, he calls out mentally to Melian, asking if he can talk to Thingol.

Her eerie voice responds in his mind, saying, 'Yes, come into the city; the elves will take you there.'

So he does go in, and indeed, the elves do take him to Thingol, silently. They are all super weird, way more creepy than Thranduil's elves. They all stare at him -- all, literally. Finally he is alone, in a little forested area, and Thingol is laying on a bed under the trees. It makes him think of Miriel's dead body, as they say it used to sit unmoving in Aman.

'She said you've come here, for me', the body says to him, mentally. 'If I could embrace you, I would, husband of my little Elwing.'

Thingol looks as if he's dead, physically. It's even creepier than the new Doriath elves were, honestly. He can see why Elwing refuses to come here, see these people, or see Thingol and Melian. It almost makes you shiver, to see the few elves that live here [the rest either faded or don't want to live here in Aman.]

"I was gonna ask how to get over having a dead kid, but you don't seem like you're doing great," Earendil explains, and sits on the ground by his unmoving body.

'I was right,' Thingol tells him bitterly with osanwe, 'that horrid mortal destroyed everything. She is dead, her son is gone too. Nimloth will not even come here, to our home. Melian says Nimloth's children live still, yet wish to never see us or be known amongst the tribes of the elves. Mortals are only evil.'

"Well ... she kinda picked him. So it's not like it was just that guys fault," Earendil points out, re Beren. He doesn't know him, but surely Elwing wouldn't want her grandfather [that she didn't know] slandered by his father in law. "Part of it's her fault."

'He corrupted her,' Thingol says mentally, voice in a distant rage. 'Everything fell to ruin.'

So much for advice here, he thinks.

"Kinda like you and the stone, huh? The silmaril," Earendil says. "It melted your mind. All you did was fuck up. It's weird that Melian even liked you."

'How dare you, you have that blood in you,' Thingol snaps at him with osanwe. 'That dangerous blood!'

Earendil huffs a laugh at his stupid antics, and stands up. "I'll be sure to let Elwing know that's what you think -- she's got it too. Bye."

He walks off, and shuts his mind so that Thingol can't mindspeak to him anymore. Melian appears eerily and emerges from the gloom of some shadows as he leaves, and says to him, 'It has ruined his mind, the jewel. I do not know how to fix him.'

"I don't know," Earendil says, as he walks off into the nature outside of new Doriath. "He went to Mandos. They say people are cured there of any ills that are cureable. Maybe he's just naturally bad, and you didn't see it, cause there was always an excuse."

She doesn't answer. Earendil goes out to his ship for a while, just to sit there, to lay on the deck aimlessly.

The water is the same as always. He doesn't totally disagree that their partially mortal blood isn't great, only in the sense of causing automatic death, if the Valar hadn't let them and the boys pick. At least those bastards saved Elwing's brothers from their fate of permanent death; it's disgusting that Mandos interpreted it all that way, since it's all a farce.

If Tuor can magically be immortal, why not them too? Why even treat them that way? Inbuilt in the blood or not, it's still wrong. The Valar could have helped them, or said they all could always choose -- and they didn't. But even so, none of this helps them with the fact that Elros died. He wanted to die.

He knows that Elrond hates Elros, and that Maglor says he's sure Elros didn't hate his real parents. But really he must have. Maglor is just trying to protect him, because he is very gentle with him. Elrond can be more honest at times, and it's very excruciating.

Elwing visits him that night, and he updates her on everything, and she nods, saying she's not surprised.

It's nice to be on his ship. He likes his hammock there, and Elwing resting with him [in whatever form], it's relaxing. He built it mostly himself [with Cirdan and Gil-Galad], and he can sail off wherever if he wants to.

Maglor and Elrond [and other people too] sometimes give him presents for his ship, like decorative stuff. He's never really had a lot of decor on it, other than what Cirdan had originally installed. When that stuff had gotten old, he just chucked it and never replaced it.

Now it actually looks rather fancy inside. He doesn't care either way how it looks, honestly, but it is admittedly nice to look around and always happen to see something someone gave him deliberately out of care for him, thinking of him. Out of love.

Glorfindel shows up eventually to his ship. He lets him onboard and they go into one of the rooms. "Everyone nominated me to go find you," Glorfindel explains. "Elwing said she wasn't sure if you wanted her to say where you were; everybody understood. So, what's the deal? Everyone missed you. When are you coming home? Even Nelyo is worried about you."

Oh, he thinks.

"I didn't think anybody would notice, I guess. I didn't think about it," he explains, and Glorfindel looks surprised.

"I didn't have anyone to go with me to the arts and crafts fair," Glorfindel accuses him, "and someone said I 'don't need anything'. Can you believe that?"

... He can.

Especially since it's Maglor saying that, who's seen Glorfindel's zillion closets and stores of stuff in depth. "Maglor doesn't like collecting things, maybe," he offers and Glorfindel frowns.

"No one appreciates my love of art," Glorfindel insists. "Anyway, what are you doing, out here?"

"Nothing," he admits.

Glorfindel looks at him weirdly. "Well, let's make up an excuse so I don't have to say that to everybody and freak them out," he proposes. "They'll jump from that to 'you're sick' or something all on their own. So what do you 'imagine' you were doing here?"

Earendil laughs. "Just sailing, then."

"If we leave now, we can catch the end of the art fair," he tells him, very plaintive, so Earendil goes back with him and they have to go straight to it, so that Glorfindel can see it all.

Earendil decides not to say anything about the fact that everyone in new Rivendell at these things was probably was literally waiting for Glorfindel specifically, and would have waited even longer for him anyway. The Feanoreans seem to like him very much, Earendil has noticed.

Glorfindel looks at all the wares on offer, and talks about them at great length, and Earendil accompanies him. And then also helps him carry his bags home to his rooms in town. Everyone says hello to Earendil as he goes by the main room to set Glorfindel's purchases in one area of his suite.

He can see why Maglor doesn't want to go with Glorfindel to do this stuff – it's pretty crazy. Glorfindel loves art with an intense eagerness. He likes to discuss it at length; Earendil listens, but doesn't have a lot to contribute. Glorfindel tells him about an artist's past work, the progression of their art, and on and on and on – sometimes he even asks one of the Feanorean elves there to ask the artist or artisan a question when they are not working, and writes stuff down to this end.

Earendil does not appreciate it all as much as he does, definitely. He likes some art, once in a great while, if it looks nice. He is a normal person, not a connoisseur.

He returns back to Elrond's study, and everyone is playing a book-puzzle game, he realizes. Elrond has Feanoreans who like this, he's heard before.

Maglor waves him over and moves a pillow he was leaning against so that Earendil can sit beside him, with them. Finno and Nelyo are there too, so all the seats are taken up, mostly.

He listens to everyone talk about the puzzle – they run through the basics for him and then get back to where they were in their discussion. It becomes clear very early on that this cryptic stuff they are trying to figure out is replete with references to early elven history and minutia that only extremely educated elves would know. … That is, Earendil knows none of it.

Elrond can keep up with Nelyo and Maglor and Finno due to his book learning, it seems, but Glorfindel is in the weeds, and Maglor has to explain things to him. He very kindly also explains everything with osanwe to Earendil too, on the down low.

Everyone drinks wine the whole time, but Maglor calls for other drinks to be sent up because clearly they were all trying to take him for a ride, since he weighs the least, and will be therefore the most drunk.

"That's not so," Finno protests, as Maglor sends a page away with orders.

He's probably just doing it so Earendil doesn't have to chug claret with everyone, so he doesn't have to stand out as not wanting to drink. Maglor is sweet to him like that.

"You are great afeared of my prowess in investigation, I am certain of it," Maglor informs Fingon, who continues to argue it.

"Have you even figured anything out yet?" Glorfindel challenges, and Maglor glares at him.

He always likes to get, to have, Maglor's attention, Earendil has noticed. And vice versa. They will even verbally mourn if the other isn't there, if they think of something witty or critical to say to each other. It's very cute. If anyone else does or says the same stuff, they both are gentle and fun; if it's either of them, they tease each other for it mercilessly. They love to argue with each other, as if it's a source of excitement.

He and Elwing aren't like them – but no one else seems to be either, being it Nelyo and Finno, or even what he's seen of Elrond and Gil-Galad. Nor Tuor and Idril, or Galadriel and Celeborn, when he's seen them together. Even Feanor and Nerdanel are more chill.

"By no one's measure was your opinion sought," Maglor informs him, and Elrond calls for them all to listen, [so they don't get distracted and just talk to each other, probably] and presents the latest part of the puzzle. There is very heated conversation.

Earendil tries to pay attention, but it's really complex.

Nelyo seems to enjoy it very much, though, which is nice – he rarely outwardly shows a lot of emotions, so it's lovely to see him so enthused. Earendil later begs off, and goes back to his house.

They all continue debating the puzzle book, of course. He walks home and inside he finds Elwing, who tells him excitedly, "Maglor made me my own mystery pages."

He comes and sits with her and looks at it. The writing is clearly in Maglor's hand, but the illustrations are professional, probably by a Feanorean artist here in town. The book is very much confusing, and is in both Sindarin and Quenya, just as an extra way to help Elwing learn Quenya, probably.

They both get very absorbed in trying to figure it out, spending hours a day at it. They take breaks to hang out with each other, talk, go on walks, and sleep together. And also rest at night, obviously. Sometimes Elwing goes off on her own, to other people or to work with Feanor on inventions.

Once in a great while Elrond goes to see his 'child-uncles' [and Nimloth], who Elwing has informed him have told Elrond that they want to be his nephews instead of his uncles, because the age difference is just too weird the other way. Elrond agreed, obviously.

Maglor urges him to get some massage-type physical therapy if he's going to keep doing woodworking, and then does it himself when he realizes that Earendil is never, ever going to let some random elf near him, much less touch him. Elwing then insists he brush her hair and rub her feet too, so that it's 'fair' and she isn't being cheated, which Maglor seems to find very amusing.

To be honest, he can see why Nelyo was able to recover, with Maglor and Finno too helping him. Maglor is great at making a person feel better, whether due to sickness or tiredness or just 'my life is a disaster' causes.

Finno is actually very encouraging and helpful as well – he doesn't appreciate him as much as he should, he thinks. He and even Galadriel, at times, often try to reach out to Earendil, and do stuff with him. It feels like he's been trying to keep his head up and carry on for so long that it's startling to pause, and realize all that people do to be kind to him.

Elrond too always suggests things they can do together, he's begun to realize. Before he kind of thought he was just mentioning his own schedule, but now he sees that he is kind of offering potential options [in a no pressure sort of way] in case Earendil wants to attend any events, or anything.

Nelyo has informal little parties often at his house now, so sometimes he goes to those. The food is good, and he can eat privately there in the study with Nelyo and other people he knows. Also, it's pretty funny to see the elves all fall over drunk – some play parlor games, or outside games, getting progressively worse at them as time goes on.

Maglor has told Earendil that he likes to go to the soirees especially [other than just cause he's so close to Nelyo] because he gets to hear music [that's not from he himself], since typically no one will play near him. Sometimes Maglor even plays games with the other elves when Nelyo wants to, which is funny to watch, since Maglor otherwise does not talk to almost anyone [in terms of regular Feanorean elves] in new Rivendell, it always seems like.

Eventually after a year of intense study, the puzzle creator in new Rivendell is brought before Elrond and Gil-Galad to explain the solution [a year is the usual amount of time given for each one typically, Earendil was told.] Elrond comes back over to his rooms and tells everyone there [some are pages who then spead the word for him further into the valley], and Gil-Galad tells the Lindoners who were trying to figure it all out.

The elves all say 'oooh' when they hear the solution, and have dramatic reactions. Earendil isn't one hundred percent sure what any of it meant, even at this point, so he doesn't care. It's still fun to listen to them all, and sometimes they ask him what he thinks – thankfully only opinion questions, not ones that require him to be intellectual.

Elwing eventually demands that Maglor tell her what his mysterious book pages for her meant, while Earendil is there [thank god, he really wants to know, honestly], and Maglor comes over to her house and tells them, "It's all describing the Queen's tapestries, in the hall of weaving. In Finwe's palace."

They both stare at him, uncomprehending. "Haven't you seen it?" Maglor asks. "I suppose I thought you'd both seen that area already, since it's so infamous."

"I don't think so," Elwing says, and Earendil nods, he hasn't seen it either.

"Well, you must both see it immediately," Maglor decides. "Let's go, right now, get a horse."

He rolls out nonchalantly and indeed they go. Nelyo and Finno come along too, and when they arrive at the palace, Finno says, "You all go on ahead, I'll distract my father from calling to meet any of you."

He bustles off. Maglor takes them into the hall of Miriel's work, and finally they see it. It's hard to describe, Earendil thinks, looking intently at it. It's so complicated and the colors are so bright, it almost seems like some real vision. Or like a painting that's super powerful, and seems more real than reality.

They are truly incredible; real art. Really, they seem otherworldly, like magical.

'Yes, they do seem magical,' Elwing agrees to his thought, with osanwe.

Maglor and Nelyo point out different parts and give commentary. Eventually, Fingon returns and tells them, "Well, I couldn't control my father or his brother. They told Queen Miriel, she's coming up here, and they want to say hi to everyone."

Maglor turns and smiles. "I will go play for them, then. That will keep them there. Tell me what she says later," he asks, and they all agree.

Miriel does appear later, helped by many servants due to her lingering weakness in a carry-chair type of thing. She sits on a cushioned chair they bring with them and tells them all things about her tapestry artworks. She also tells Nelyo to please sit with her, so she is not alone in her chair, so he does.

He looks so pleased to be with her that it makes him look younger, somehow. Maglor reappears eventually and declares, "We have to eat, what will people say of our hospitality if we make guests get their own sandwiches?"

Miriel laughs, and says, "Little Kano, you are right. Take your people here to replenish themselves. I will take some rest."

He and Nelyo agree, and Miriel is carried away by the some of the strong male elves who came with her on a kind of palanquin. It's interesting how she does seem to mainly speak to Feanor's kids more than the others – like here, over Finno. But he doesn't seem offended, thankfully.

Maglor herds them all off to a side chamber where pages rush in with silver heavy trays of many foods. He gets the food list, and nods about it, so Elwing and Earendil try the food after he dismisses the servants. In the interim Finno has been mowing down a pan bagnat, while Nelyo watches him amused, and more sedately tries a monte cristo.

Elwing disappears some cucumber sandwiches and then some goat cheese and tomato ones, and Earendil eats a ham-butter one. It's okay.

The food here is more plain than at home in new Rivendell – there they eat non-spicy merguez sandwiches [Maglor orders it that way so they can enjoy it, since they both don't prefer to eat spicy food], and one time the ringbearers made them some rarebit cheese toasts that were very good, despite the ale.

There is pate and cornichons, and onion soup, vichyssoise, tourin, and a variety of crepes. Maglor eats some lobster bisque with soft fresh bread dipped in it. Earendil wonders if the proliferation of soups here is due to the court people finding out that Maglor won't eat regular food any more, most of the time. Who knows.

Earendil tries the plainer puddings here, which are good, and wishes they were home with Elrond and could have thick passion fruit tarts covered with berries and tiny decorative chocolate sticks, or have chocolate-hazelnut crushed melted sandwiches. Also, he could kill [metaphorically] for a meatball sub right now.

But soon enough, lunch is over, and he tells Maglor, "I'm going to make a break for it, without seeing these fancy people."

Maglor shrugs, and tells him, "I will make excuses for you. I assume you are both busy with magical whosits and whatsits."

Elwing laughs at this over the ice cream sundae she is vaporizing a bit at a time. "That is not true, but that is funny." She and Maglor smile at each other. It's nice to know people who don't mind that they are both different, that they don't act, talk, or exist as elves.

Maglor goes to obfuscate their situation while Finno and Nelyo show them out the back way of the palace, and with osanwe have their horse brought over, and they're off, free of the elves.

It's fun to travel with just Elwing perched [now as a bird] on his shoulder.

It's nice to be free, in the wilderness of Aman. He doesn't hate it so much here, now, as he used to. Everyone he knows is here, anyhow. So that makes it easier not to rue coming to this wicked continent of demi-gods [apart from his mission, obviously -- and fuck them for that too, for making him risk his life many times stacked on top of each other, to ask for help for everyone.]

Eventually they get back home, and they find Nerdanel there, talking to Elrond, in his study. "Hi!" Elwing tells her excitedly, turning from a bird into a person suddenly, and says what their [she and Elrond's] latest sculpture classes have been like.

Nerdanel seems happy to see her, and talks with her about it nicely, authentically. [Earendil is always watching elves [no exceptions] when they are near Elwing, because of how many don't act normal with her.] Elrond interjects as well, because he goes to the art classes with her, too.

"I came to see everyone here," Nerdanel later explains to them both, "but everyone is gone, off to see Queen Miriel's tapestries, Elrondaro says. I will come back."

"Oh, that's our fault," Elwing informs her. "Why don't you stay and hang out with us?"

Nerdanel smiles. "I am pleased to. I have never had such exalted company before."

"Come see my house," Elwing tells her and stands right up and puts out her hand, clearly wanting to grab Nerdanel's, who obliges.

They rush off together. Earendil watches them go; it's nice, to think that Elwing has such a fun life now, no more daily incorporeal depression type existence. Eventually Nerdanel returns, interrupting Elrond's description of what life was like with Maglor when he was a little boy [Earendil asked].

"She said she was going to see Celegorm," Nerdanel walks in and tells Elrond, looking astonished.

"She often does that," Earendil explains to her. "She likes exploring. He does too."

Also, he's pretty crazy, from what Elwing's said, in the looney-tune adventurer sort of way. She's often said she has to hold him back with magic when he goes too far, too high or too deep. But she also said that it's fun to explore with someone else who really loves it as much as she does. Earendil doesn't mind, since he doesn't really yearn to do stuff like that. He's happy at home.

And anyway, after a life up fighting monsters in the sky, and otherwise, he wants to be boring and do nothing.

Elrond agrees; Nerdanel still looks shocked, of course. Who wouldn't be? he thinks.

"How was mother?" Elrond asks Nerdanel, who takes a seat and gets herself back together and recalls what they did.

"She showed me some of her things," Nerdanel explains, with the familiar [to him] manner of an elf who has seen the unusual. "She said certain items were 'art', but they were not conventionally art, as an elf would say. Her house was very ... unique."

"Yes," Elrond agrees easily. "I had it built for her, and she has customized it."

Typical elves are very confused always by her house -- because it's not elven inside, and does not follow their ways, their conventions, their styles.

"It was very interesting," Nerdanel says, looking very enthralled. "I will have to visit more. When she comes to us at home she is mostly busy with Feanaro and their invention work."

Elwing has told him before that Nerdanel actually has private visitors at a particular building on one of her properties -- they are other royal ladies, who apparently became close to Nerdanel after the disasterous past leavetaking of the continent of most of her family, and a large amount of the elves in Aman.

"People say Maglor is like you," Earendil tells her, and she looks surprised at his words. He gets that a lot, because he only speaks to elves once in a while [outside of his usual circle.] "I like him very much, and she does, too. It is lucky you created him, we care for him very much. Like Elrond. ... But that's more of an obvious type thing, of course."

And too for Maglor's elder brother, he thinks.

Nerdanel seems taken aback, so Elrond jumps in, and tells her, "Yes, my parents like Maglor very much. And Nelyo. I hope it doesn't displease you, for them both to live here, and not on your land."

She shakes her head. "A parent only wants their child happy -- and here they are both well pleased, for many reasons. I am relieved to think of Nelyo and Finno being free here, surrounded by our people, safe. And of course Kano is safest with you. Unlike the others, I fear he would not fight back."

Elrond agrees.

Earendil knows she means those two are 'safe' here because of their crazy-incestuous-kinda love situation [which the Feanoreans elves support quietly, since Finno did the impossible and they want Nelyo to be happy], and Maglor is safe here because Elrond [and Gil-Galad presumably] won't let anyone try to stab him in revenge.

Eventually time goes on and summer appears, which means the elves are outside all the time, except for Earendil's group. Elrond and Maglor and the rest of them stay indoors, he notices. Even Finno and Nelyo don't stay out in the sun.

Elrond actually seems like he doesn't like the heat, and goes downstairs into a cooler room, in the earth at times – or turns on some weird Feanorean invention that is like a big wing on a door that keeps waving back and forth [ie fanning air at you.]

Elwing has Maglor just come right over to put them to sleep all the time at night now, in Earendil's house. She is pretty shameless, and he loves it. He would never ask Maglor to do so many things for himself; with her at the helm, she has constructed a whole lovely routine for them, what with all the stuff she has Maglor do for them.

She even has the balls to ask Glorfindel if he's jealous of Maglor being in demand as a 'snuggler', as she terms it, one morning when he's having breakfast with the two of them in Earendil's house.

"Hmm," Glorfindel considers, eating a big flaky biscuit with eggs and bacon. "Not really. I mean if we spent too much time together he'd try to get me outta there just out of annoyance. We're not the type of people to be glued to each other's side constantly, we have our own lives. And no offense, I want him to be a little different with me – I can only hope, knowing the gossip."

He gives them a wickedly sly look at that, clearly teasing them because they know that old canard too, due to Elwing's powers of perception. People think they are sleeping with Maglor, in a weird three person marriage way. That's not true, but apparently the elves are wild gossip-mongers.

"I'll let him know you said we were missing out," Elwing says helpfully, to Glorfindel's obvious horror. "But I don't think he's into that, he thinks we seem very much like Elrond. And we are young, compared to him. He is not really interested in other people like regular elves are, instead only in music. I cannot imagine him liking an elf."

"Other than me," Glorfindel insists, looking a bit outraged.

"I mean regular elves," Elwing dismisses. "You radiate power far more than other elves do, you are like Galadriel, in a way. You're like the sun. Too bad it's gone."

Earendil agrees. It feels almost sad to never look up in the sky and seen the sun or moon. They were up there for their whole lives, so it's unsettling to have them gone.

After he leaves, Elwing teaches him about magic – she's been doing that recently, since she already does it for Elrond and Maglor [who is unwilling, convinced he cannot learn of it, but indulges whatever silly nonsense she wants out of love for her.]

"Next time Maglor is here, notice his little bracelet," Elwing advises him. "Not what it looks like, but how it feels. When he touches your skin, or your hair, it will be very physically close to you – it radiates a lot of good feelings, from the metal of it. Glorfindel gave it to him back when he was still ill. Even Maglor's literal body emanates different power and feelings, compared to normal elves, not just because of his blood, but because of how he was so focused on by Elrond and Glorfindel when they cured him. Naturally their souls' radiance poured out onto him through proximity and their attention to him, their love and effort in healing him, amplified by Elrond's ring."

He tries that night, but isn't sure if he notices anything, really.

Admittedly he's pretty distracted by Maglor rubbing his neck, and his feet, because it feels amazing. Sometimes Elwing lays on top of Earendil while he does it [she lays sideways and moves around so Maglor can still give him his massage] and it's heavenly. Being surrounded by people [well, his people] can feel very comforting.

He likes being close.

It can help him stop thinking when he finds himself thinking about sad stuff constantly, for example, like when he realizes that Elrond surely already understands that Earendil wanting to choose mortal death when he and Elwing got to Aman [and her picking to live forever] means that she actually gave a fuck about getting to potentially see Elrond again … and he didn't.

It's not like he meant it that way, but it didn't even occur to him. His own kids didn't even occur to him. Is there nothing more damning?

He was just so tired, of everything. He stills feels that way now, at times. Listening to Maglor talk to him and Elwing, or play and sing for them, or feeling him stroke his hair makes him feel better, that's all.

Anyway.

He even likes just hanging around and hearing everyone talk, and sometimes they will ask him a random question, and he'll say something too. It's fun. He's heard Glorfindel call it boring [at times he goes off to his sports games or to see art], but it isn't boring to him.

It's stressful to talk in front of other people, and to other people. He didn't do that for a long time. But it's only once in a while, so it's okay.

Eventually on random summer day they are summoned by a breathless page who ran to Earendil's house [clearly, based on the look of him], so Elwing and him run back with them to Elrond's study, only to find them all opening fancy containers.

"You got jeweled boxes?" Earendil asks. Elwing turned into a bird before they rushed over, and she flies over to Maglor's shoulder to watch the chaos unfold.

Elrond looks enraptured, which is weird, but maybe he's into this or something. Maglor does too, actually – they all do. Even Finno and Nelyo are there, and Gil-Galad.

Finally Elrond seems to break out of a trance, and looks at him, and says, "Come. Look. These are new tapestries by the hand of Queen Miriel."

He comes closer and sees that the elaborate boxes are just nothing compared to what's in them – these are hanging bejeweled paintings almost, though they are not made of oil paint or gems, they are made of thread. Even Earendil, who knows less than nothing about this type of art, can see how incredible this is, it's as good as Miriel's older original work in the palace; it draws the eye and you can't look away from it's magnificence. Kind of like how people describe the silmarils [which is not how he would, but whatever.]

The group stays unmoving for a long time, staring at all the pieces. 'One of them is for us,' Elwing tells him with osanwe, so they go open it and look at it specifically together.

"We must have them displayed for all the elves to enjoy seeing," Elrond finally says, and they all agree somberly.

These pieces of art are so incredible that all people deserve to see them; it is no trouble for theirs to be up too, he and Elwing don't mind or protest.

They have all the pieces put in public spaces, half on Gil-Galad's side of town and half on Elrond's, and then they switch them at one point so everyone can see the other half without having to see the 'other' elves.

While all the Feanoreans work on their needlework often, Earendil and Elwing are often exempt from this work. At first it seemed great, to get out of it. And then later it felt liked being excluded.

So he asks Elrond about it.

"Of course you can sew with us," Elrond says, looking puzzled. Earendil found him in the library, of course. He's often in there. There are a lot of tiny rooms crammed with books in a way that screams hoarding. But who knows, maybe Elrond would say Earendil is an unlettered crazy minimalist or something. "I'm terrible at it. I'm just not an artist – I'm a critic. I'm learned, I'm not creative."

"But you made Rivendell," Earendil points out. "Isn't that like some type of public city planning-creativity? A big space, for all the people."

Elrond smiles. "A third space. Literally, for elven politics. I'm the third space – neither on everyone else's side, nor on the Feanorean side. I can tell everyone I asked you to join us for our sewing time, from now on."

"Thanks," he says.

He tells Elwing later that day when he sees her.

"Oh good," she says while in their hammock with him. "I like doing stuff with them all. It is pretty weird that they want to sew, but what are you gonna do, you know. Elves are weird."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Good thing Miriel was just into this and not something more elaborate or odder."

So eventually they join the world of amateur sewing that all Feanoreans, and a lot of non-Feanoreans, are involved in. Elrond wasn't lying, he is super bad at it.

"How can you do it so quickly?" he asks Maglor, watching him work at it. Beside him, Finno and Nelyo are going way, way, way slower at it.

"It's his hands," Finno chimes in. "From playing – they are very strong. But no one else's are."

Earendil immediately thinks of the other people he knows with strong hands, unbidden – Cirdan, Nerdanel, Feanor, Elwing [because of magic, instead of work], and Voronwe. Voronwe lives in a dwelling beside his parents, helping serve them with some of the people of Galadriel. [A few of the most devoted servants to Tuor and Idril live near them in little houses.]

… Yes, he's heard the rumors people whisper about Voronwe and his parents, but he doesn't want to actually know if Voronwe is in a real relationship with his parents, so he never asks Elwing about it. Surely she could find out somehow, even watching as a bird or somesuch.

Earendil knows a lot of elven gossip because of her and also Glorfindel. Like for example, Tylpe is still reviled by many elves not for his mistakes, or his bloodline, but because he was okay with working with a maia – after most elves considered the maiar and valar evil overtly, if not in their hearts secretly.

"He's practically cheating," Fingon continues.

Maglor scoffs. "Don't listen to him," he tells Earendil. "He's just piqued he didn't win at cards earlier."

"I am not – tell him, Nelyo," Finno insists, while still working on his little hoop of needlework.

Nelyo's work is a mess, because he goes back and forth between using each hand, to practice strengthening them after what happened to him.

None of them are as good as Miriel is – he and Elwing are really terrible, he thinks, as they try for the first time. Miriel's weaving art pieces look like a lot of things at once: like a painting, or a lot of jewels somehow glued on up the tapestry, or like some magic picture. She really is amazing.

Earendil has been to the arts areas in new Rivendell more and more as time passes because of how Glorfindel always wants someone to go with him -- either to shop or to help 'critique' him as he paints. He's even seen the paint-creating and mixing areas.

He's seen the minerals the elves dig out of the earth or trade for from the dwarves to use as pigments: umber cream brown, very poisonous realgar for orange, ochre and orpiment for yellow, ochre or chalk for red, lime or chalk for white, celadonite and glauconite for green, lapis lazuli or ultramarine silicate for blue.

There's also the color dyes area, which has two parts. One where the elves keep what they gather and grow in terms of raw materials for dyes, and then another where they dye cloth. He's seen the gardens for the dye workers – the brasilwood, the saffron plants, the turmeric plants, the walnut sheels they use, the woad leaves, the kermes.

These elves have special lists of colors with complex names, to differentiate the many shades from each other. How does Earendil know this? Because Glorfindel has dragged him to the Feanorean tailors in new Rivendell at times when he orders new clothes [though he pays for them, which Maglor has told him is not the old way of things; that they do new things in this town, now.]

The tailors show them books of color swatches – there's sangwyn red versus cramoisy red, verdulet blue-green or turkils teal, purpure purple versus amaranthine purple versus cyclas purple, celestrine light blue, carsey yellow versus falwe yellow.

It's insane, basically. Glorfindel loves it all. He custom designs most of his clothes, which once prompted Maglor to say before Earendil that that's 'why they look so crazy'.

The dye areas have big storage spaces, some for fixatives like alum or iron salts, some for ammonia [it smells terrible, it's just old urine]. It is kept in a certain area, distant from other parts of the settlement. There are big areas for rinsing and scrubbing cloth, and also large areas to hang up cloth to dry. Some cloth is left outside to bleach in the sun, he's seen.

The elves are extremely careful about alum runoff, not wanting to contaminate the natural rivers, lakes, ground and water of the valley.

… Yes, Earendil has learned way too much about it, just due to the amount of times Glorfindel has dragged him over there.

"This is very hard," Elwing comments, resting her face on her propped up hand. Her needle is sewing on its own, just very poorly.

"Yes," Earendil agrees, and sets his little hoop down. "I don't know how anyone does this. This is frustrating."

He could swear his hands already hurt. Despite being a sailor and knowing how to fix his sails if needed [that's a basic], he's mostly never had to do much on his own like that. Even his clothes were simply put on his ship by the dockworkers in Aman for him, without him having to talk to anyone or ask.

"Since we do it in honor of the Queen," Maglor muses, "it's probably more meaningful if it's difficult, right?"

"There's nothing else we can do?" Elwing pouts, and he pauses.

"Well, the exalted Queen did sing while she worked, couldn't you do that?" Finno suggests idly. "Kano does sometimes, for others or while he sews."

Suddenly Elwing does start singing. It's very whispery. It's different than how Maglor sings – there is no melody here, just one note for a long time that seems to echo, and then eventually a different note. Then he wakes up.

She's there, looking at him. "I made everyone go unconscious," Elwing tells him ruefully. "So much for that."

"It sounded cool," he assures her, and she smiles sadly.

"We gotta wake up the elves from whatever I did to them," Elwing says, so he gets up and they try to wake them. At first it doesn't work, so exasperated, Earendil takes a little sock, pours some water on it, and touches it to their necks, which works.

The elves come to, and Elwing explains to them what happened, sounding upset. "I forgot you would be affected," she confesses, grimacing. "And I – "

Elrond opens his mouth, clearly to say 'it's not your fault' or 'be careful next time' or something, but it's too late. Maglor has become interested, seeing this as a music event instead of a 'magic power went too far' event.

"What were those notes, parts of chords?" Maglor interrupts her. "Particular ones? Did you keep going after I fell out of alertness? Was it a song?"

"It was just notes," Elwing says to him, now distracted by his academic curiosity from her regret. "Not a real song. I thought they went together, that's all."

"Well if I have not the strength to withstand hearing them," Maglor muses, "can't you tap them on a harp or a harpsichord or marimba? Then I could hear it."

"Let's get the wood bells," she agrees, the xylophone she means, and she and Maglor head out to it right then, both eager to explore this.

Earendil watches them go and smiles to himself. Of course Maglor would be interested, and would make her feel better about it all, too.

The rest of them return to their sewing and Earendil finally excuses himself to go on a walk.

Chapter Text

Earendil actually often hangs out with Feanor, because he comes to see Nelyo and Maglor, and after a perfunctory few sentences in his general direction, Nelyo dismisses him, so then he goes to Maglor, who just yells at him. Feanor cries a lot after this. [Earendil often accidentally finds him like this, when going to Elrond's rooms to find him, or Maglor, or Glorfindel. Basically it's the first place to look for anyone in the group.]

It's sad to see Feanor cry. He cries very passionately, just like he does everything else. Sometimes he goes and sits with him, and puts a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't really know what to say. But Feanor thankfully doesn't seem to need any words.

Even after what he did, or kicked off, with Finwe setting the ball up for him, that bastard, it's hard not to pity Feanor.

At least Earendil has a real, solid relationship with his own wife, one kid at least who acts like he likes him, and friends he can hang out with. And also whatever Maglor is -- his and Elwing's platonic boyfriend?? Who knows. Whatever it would be called; words don't mean anything in real life.

For example, he is Elrond's father and yet he is not. He and Elwing are 'heroes' technically/supposedly, but they are also not, too. They are thieves, but at the same time even Maglor says they are not, and it's his stuff they kept from him. Elrond is Maglor's son, but he isn't at the same time -- he didn't want the silmaril for himself, he didn't try to champion the Feanorean cause, and even now is a neutral party in politics. Tuor is a mortal, but he's technically immortal and lives in Aman forever.

Words don't mean much, really.

When Feanor talks to Earendil about his projects with Elwing, he sounds knowledgable, genius-y, confident, intense, interested -- when he's crying, he asks him about Nelyo and Maglor as if he, Feanor, is the child.

It reminds Earendil very uncomfortably of his own situation. Is he not a father whose sons have deserted him, spurned him? Okay, Elrond seems very nice to him now, actually. But still. Elros is gone forever.

Earendil is very aware of how lucky he is, honestly, when he tries to sit with Feanor. He finds him again one afternoon, crying in Elrond's study. He must have come in to talk to Maglor and he cussed him out again or something.

Earendil crosses the threshold of the room, shuts the door behind him, and goes and sits next to Feanor on the couch, where he is sobbing into his hands. When Feanor finally notices him, Earendil hands him a pillow to hold. He looks confused at it, but takes it.

"I understand," Earendil tells him quietly. Feanor blinks at him. "I left my kids to a fate worse than death, and then my wife did too as our city burned. It is Maglor's goodness that mitigates our crimes against our children, and lets everyone pretend we didn't do something terrible. You didn't have a Maglor to fix your mistakes after the fact like we did. But it still feels the same for me, because we didn't know about what happened for a long time."

"Does Elrondaro hate you?" Feanor asks him, seeming interested and also totally unaware that that might be a wild thing to ask.

The guy does not really follow conventions, not even in conversation, which Earendil likes. He doesn't talk in all fake niceities like a regular elf.

Elves cry weirdly, not like how he and Tuor cry, or like Elrond when he's seen him upset because of a bad patient outcome in his healing halls, or like Elwing.

"Oh yeah, definitely," Earendil explains. "Big time. He just doesn't express it, mostly. He's very nice, polite. Elrond literally has replacements for us that he loves and knows deeply. And we are forever strangers. I mean, I knew we'd fuck up being parents, because we were kids ourselves. But it was destiny or whatever, everyone said. Even Elwing. It's still sad though, to have fucked up in this other weird way, instead of in the normal 'you're terrible at being a parent way', that we would have."

Feanor nods.

"That is all easy to forgive, since it turned out well," he points out, and Earendil shakes his head.

"It might not have, though," Earendil explains. "Love can't come from luck. Love comes from caring about someone. The literal enemy army guy, Maglor, cared more than us. There's no coming back from that. "

"But you live here," Feanor points out. "So things are good in some ways."

Earendil shrugs. "Yeah. He's nice. And Maglor likes us, and Glorfindel wants to hang out a lot. If it were just Elrond here, it'd be very different."

"Does Kano ever speak of me?" Feanor asks him. He always asks this, and does not seem to either tire of asking, or of Earendil's vague answers.

"Not really, but I don't ask him about his life, I'm too busy asking him about my own kids' lives, that I wasn't there for," he elucidates. "Maybe you should lay down and have some juice."

"Is this some healing concept?" Feanor asks, interest piqued, as Earendil gets up and asks a page if they could have someone bring some cups of juice to the room.

Feanor already has laid down on the couch.

It's funny, strange to think this is Maglor's father. The person who ruined Maglor's life, who got him to curse himself [twice!]. But when actually talking to him, it's hard to avoid seeing how wrecked Feanor is now. Feanor just seems like an intense, sad, young genius.

Earendil puts a soft giant blue blanket over him, as Feanor watches him do it. Like it's some 'interesting' technique.

"No," he explains. "But people do this for me, because I have breakdowns all the time. It makes me feel better. I am not an elf, obviously. But maybe it will do something for you anyway."

The page comes back with the juice, and Earendil comes and takes it himself at the door, and says thank you. [Yes, he remembers that he's technically not supposed to say thanks, but whatever. He doesn't care about royal elf culture norms.]

He brings one to Feanor, who props himself up on an elbow and tries a little. He sets the glass on the floor and lays back down on the couch. "Usually I'm pretty out of it like this, half the time," Earendil tells him. "But having someone there helps me rest, or relax. I know elves rest funny, in a different way."

He brings a little chair over, puts a hand on Feanor's shoulder, and rests it there.

"What happens now?" Feanor asks, seeming rather captivated by this 'healing' situation, which almost makes Earendil laugh. Elrond would probably have an aneurysm if he thought Earendil was telling elves that this is what passed for medical intervention, especially if they think Earendil was taught this random nonsense by him.

"Well, I'm not sure," he admits. "Usually I fall asleep, and then I wake up and feel better. Like I can go on again."

"I can go into reverie, and see if it works," Feanor tells him, looking a little heartened by the idea of a kind of 'experiment' in this vein.

He sits there with him for a while, as Feanor goes into and then stays in reverie, the creepy half-asleep way elves rest. Their eyes being open is literally nightmare fuel. His mother is the only person he can accept doing it, for some reason. And Maglor a little bit, because it looks like he is just nodding off but not quite.

Then again, Maglor rests differently than regular elves because of his old sickness, so his eyes droop much lower than a normal elf during reverie. His eyes look almost, but not all the way shut, really. It makes it easier to take seeing.

He leaves his hand on his shoulder. It feels nice to comfort someone.

Later Elrond comes in, and asks him, mentally, 'Is all okay? People told me you'd stayed in here for a while with him.'

He nods.

'He just was crying,' Earendil explains with osanwe. 'That's all. And I just sat here.'

Elrond acknowledges this, and comes over and looks Feanor over in his 'healer' way. Then he steps back, and looks at Earendil.

'I don't want you to be near his morass of sad energy too often,' Elrond tells him seriously. 'I want you to protect yourself.'

'It's okay,' he explains, 'It doesn't upset me. I just feel sorry for him sometimes, I guess.'

Earendil too lived a weird non-life forever [just on a ship in the sky-space instead of in Mandos like Feanor], until suddenly things were 'different' and his kid [no plural 's' there, he can never forget, with anguish] was back [Elrond crossing the sea; for Feanor it's him being back from Mandos in the remaking.] He knows what it's like to be 'behind' forever. Maglor and Nerdanel had their own lives, Nelyo too in a different way before he got to Mandos. Feanor missed all that.

He is a stranger to them, his own family, in a big way. Like Earendil and Elwing are to Elrond. [Not to mention Feanor finally getting to meet and live with Miriel now -- like Elwing had to meet Nimloth here in Aman for the 'first' time.]

'If he bothers you or mother, I want you tell me immediately,' Elrond says to him soberly.

'He's been fine,' Earendil reports, looking up at him from his chair. 'Me and Elwing like him.'

Elrond looks surprised and then amused. 'Well, I don't know why I'm surprised,' he tells him with osanwe. 'You are both famous for being unique. Even it extends to friendships, I should have realized.'

Earendil laughs.

'I'm happy you didn't feel 'different',' he tells him. 'Me and Elwing did. I wouldn't want that for you.'

Elrond sits down in a chair near him. 'I never did,' he assures him. 'My friend made me feel like we were the normal ones, and the elves an odd bunch. Gil-Galad did too. And my people as well, and Glorfindel.'

Elrond still calls Maglor his 'friend' or 'Lindir' all the time, even now.

'I am happy that now I can share all my luck, my happiness, with you,' Elrond tells him. 'And mother, too. It is so lovely to see how you two like all my friends, just as I have. They are goodly people. Kind, merciful, wise and learned, powerful.'

'Your friends are pretty great,' Earendil agrees.

Elrond smiles.

'Did Maglor always make you feel better too?' he asks. 'Almost like magic.'

He nods. 'Yes, he is a special person,' Elrond assents. 'Being with him made me feel protected, special. He always said we were princes, and would be kings of our own realms someday, scions of many famous bloodlines -- and he would love us regardless of it, and no one would really know. But that we must think of history as the story of the winners, and not protest when all elves said he had no feeling for us, that we were bargaining chips. I asked him then, 'but what if they traded a jewel for us'? And he said to me, 'Then I would have to take myself to Mandos, for I could not suffer through losing you for that.' And it was true. Our leaving practically killed him, even though he was sending us away to Gil-Galad for our own good. I think he gave in to Nelyo's decision to go after the silmarils because he had nothing left.'

'Everyone left you,' Earendil notes. 'I'm sorry I was one of them.'

Elrond waves a hand of dismissal. 'It's okay. In the end I had my people, and Glorfindel, and Erestor. And Galadriel, and Thranduil too, though at a distance. And then I found my friend, and was busy healing him for a long time.'

'I am glad of it,' he says.

Elrond smiles. Feanor seems to stir, so Elrond takes his leave. Earendil turns to him; Feanor says, after noticing him there, sitting beside him, "I think it worked. I do feel better. Is this Elrondaro's invention, this course of treatment?"

Earendil shrugs. "No. I don't think it's special. But maybe elves don't really need anything, so that's why it's new to you."

Feanor pushes the blanket back, sits up, thanks him, and then goes to see his step brothers, who are there in new Rivendell today for a concert. Earendil wonders if he talks to his step-sisters too, or not, but doesn't ask anyone; it's their business, after all.

Of course Maglor's version of comforting someone is much more effective than Earendil's. Maglor simply gathers him up in his arms like he's a little boy and treats him like one. It's great. And it's even better that everything is good now, safe, peaceful. Everyone is safe. Unlike before, when Tuor and Idril tried to comfort him as they escaped from Gondolin.

Elves had to carry him and Tuor too so they could sleep at night without stopping their frenzied rush to Sirion. His father could go without sleep for some time, but did need it, and Earendil was used to sleeping huge amounts each day. He still is.

Elrond seems to as well, that he can tell.

Maglor would be better as a comforter than Earendil is for Feanor, but he knows Maglor would never do it, he's too angry at him. Just like Elrond would never for Earendil, he thinks. There is nothing more bitter than a bitter child.

But Maglor is his reprieve from the real world, his haven. He always says it's all okay, he can rest peacefully, Elrond doesn't blame him [or Elwing], and everyone loves him. He says nonsense stuff when he tries to soothe him during his moments of sadness, his breakdowns. He says he's his sweet little angel, his good darling. He says he's happy he's there with them in their town.

It's all silly, but it is nice to hear. And Earendil can hear the ring of truth in it, the resonating of Maglor's feelings about him echoing into him, his spirit, his physical body. It feels good. It's not metaphorical, it's literal. It's some kind of magic, or power, or just natural elf-thing. He's felt it before, with his mother, with Cirdan, and very obviously with Elwing. He can feel it sometimes from Glorfindel, too, and Nimloth.

With most people [other than Elwing because she's both super-powered and also his wife], it's a light feeling, an aura of goodness like a cloud or mist feeling good.

With Maglor it's like he's dunking him a literal pool of water -- and instead of real water, it's some magic emanating from him into Earendil. He can feel his love for him, his protectiveness of him and Elwing, his sorrow for him. His possessiveness of them, and Elrond.

It's nice.

He likes the idea of someone wanting him to be near that much. Elrond doesn't want him to sail in the sky, but Maglor goes further than that, clearly not wanting him to live somewhere else in the first place. Elwing has agreed, it feels great to be wanted, sought after -- chosen. Finally it's being 'chosen' for a purpose he actually likes, instead of as a hero and all that garbage. It's being chosen as a friend, as someone to care for, talk to, hang out with.

Maglor always smells like his light cologne, and of course like an elf. Different. But just as Earendil is used to his mother smelling like flowers and elf-ness, and his father smelling manly, he is now used to Maglor, too. It's still a masculine scent, just different. Like a bottled fancy perfume -- some for males smell like leaves, trees, greenery, or like warm spices, sandalwood or sweet light oud. Maglor is simply a different type of masculine, not like Tuor, and not like Earendil, or even Elrond, but just himself.

Glorfindel cannot be considered in this at all because he's constantly wearing different new perfumes the new Rivendell chemists make. He wears not only men's scents, but women's too and also wacky newfangled ones that have just been invented as experiments. So he randomly will smell like flowers, or like oakmoss [forest-y], or like 'orange chocolate', which is insane. None of the other elves do this, Maglor has confirmed for him, when he asked.

"Glorfindel's just crazy," Maglor spelled out. "He cannot be fixed. His love of art in all mediums is just all-consuming, I suppose."

Of course Maglor never seems to get that he too is obsessed with art, just only music. But maybe too there is an art of comforting someone, of being loving, Earendil thinks. And he is good at that, too.

Since Feanor is gone, and no one is around, Earendil grabs his cloak and goes off on a walk. [Elwing, he knows, is currently off running [well, flying, technically] with Indis. Everyone else is doing their own thing.]

He walks through the grassy areas, the trees, in the dappled sunlight. It's a nice day; gentle breezes, a mild temperature. Eventually he gets out to the tannery area. It smells terrible, obviously. There're lime pits, the noxious rinsing, the tannin bark basins. Then there's the areas where the leather is stretched, poured over with cod liver oil and dried, and liquid tallow applied.

He walks past the furriers, past the fishmongers [this area is near the elf-made pools and lakes and all that, where they harvest seafood that they raise there for that purpose.] He goes past the chandlery area, of wax and candles.

There's also a honey area, which he avoids, not wanting to get poked painfully by the insects.

The candle making area is extensive. There are still oil lamps used, not just candles. Feanor still makes his lamps as well, which are used by many. The wax can come from many sources, depending on the intended use for the candles.

He walks past the cloth making areas, that have their own fields of plants and also animals they keep for that, their spinning wheels, their looms. He sees the ropemakers, and the smithy area, which is large. Then he goes by the cutlers, where they make edged, sharp things like knives and scissors.

There are different bathhouses dotted all over new Rivendell, some for men elves and some for women elves; Earendil never goes to them, and Elwing has said she doesn't partake herself, either.

He tells Maglor a few days later about that, asking what it's like in there. "You both have never gone?" he says, way too horrified for a subject like this, about a lack of a specific leisure activity.

Maglor is over at his house at the moment, for his 'lessons'. They're just hanging out, though. He likes to lay on this one part of one of the couches, in one of the fancy parlor rooms. Earendil sits near him.

His clothes are mildly colorful, and it still feels like a revelation, to see Maglor look stronger and healthier [well, for him -- so sickly compared to a regular elf, but way better in terms of his previous look.] Maglor still wears his hair short, but Earendil kind of likes his look. And it's kind of fun that he more 'matches' the shorter hair of Elwing [by her choice, she cuts hers], Earendil [he cuts his shorter too, it's more practical for sailing], and Elrond [he doesn't know what his deal is, he didn't ask.]

"We must go today," Maglor tells him. "We need a woman companion, for Elwing. Maybe Indis can go with her -- or your mother?"

"Maybe my mom first," he suggests. "Elwing is close with her, they've known each other for a long time."

Maglor nods. "I'll have a page go to her," he says, and gets up, walks out of the room, and presumably instructs a servant to do so.

It's weird how the elves [well the royal ones he knows] are so commanding and at ease with ordering servants around. Earendil only ever spoke to his crew before, on his ship, and with other sailors, but never in a 'do something for me, I'm better' way -- he was doing stuff too! Everyone was always working together, equally. So it's very different to see how the royals do whatever it is they do, and the servants obey them, here in Aman.

Of course his mother must have done stuff like that, he knows, back in Gondolin and Sirion, but Earendil was never paying attention to that type of thing then. He was a little boy then.

Maglor returns and flops back onto the couch in a very unelven way. It's almost funny. Most of the elves seem to try to act all perfectly graceful all the time, especially in front of the 'real' Queen of Doriath and current King of Gondolin, as he knows people refer to them as [despite Nimloth living and Turgon living too.]

"If she says she will come, we should all go together at the same time, then you both can speak together of your 'review' of it, afterwards," Maglor tells him, and he agrees.

They chat as they wait for the messenger for Idril to return. He asks Earendil for a while after this of what he thinks about Noldor jewel styles versus that of the other elf kindreds. Then he realizes he needs to tell Earendil how they are all different. So he does, and shows him images from his mind with osanwe.

A page comes by eventually saying Idril said she'd love to go, and is coming now to new Rivendell. Earendil speaks to Elwing in his mind, and she likes the whole idea, and then appears in Earendil's house before them.

"Do we really have to go the ladies one?" Elwing asks Maglor. He doesn't even look startled, which makes Earendil kind of smile. "We know both of you."

Maglor looks appalled.

"I think you're scandalizing him," Earendil tells her, mock informatively. Elwing laughs. "Elves are very delicate. They can't do things outside their culture."

"It wouldn't be proper," Maglor insists. "Besides, I hear tell that the ladies' bathhouse is incredibly beautiful. So you'll have to let me know afterwards. I'm sure Princess Idril will bring her clothing with her -- we must go select some for both of you."

"Me first?" Earendil asks him, since they're already in his house, and Maglor agrees. So the three of the walk upstairs; well, Elwing floats along, but that's really the same thing.

The carpets are very beautiful. Mostly Earendil doesn't walk on the prettiest parts of them; they're art, after all. Maglor does, but then he was raised in a different era, and he is a royal, and an elf, besides. This is elf-art. So maybe he interacts with it the way it was mean to be done so, in that sense.

Up in Earendil's fancy closet area -- he's got an area for normal, everyday clothes, and then an area for more formal raiment -- Maglor looks around and brings out some outfits Earendil supposed were just normal bathrobes.

"How about this?" he asks him.

"Yeah, I don't care about which bathrobe it is," he tells him, to Maglor's visual dismay. "I'll get a backpack to carry this stuff in."

He sees Maglor open and shut his mouth, and realizes he was almost going to say 'a servant should carry it'. He really is from a different culture. "Let's do you, Princess," Maglor says to Elwing, regrouping.

They wait for Earendil to find a knapsack for this stuff, and then go on out over to Elwing's house, so Maglor can pick out her outfit.

He disappears into her very large closet. Earendil and Elwing sit down on the bed they never use in here; he doubts she even ever uses it. They talk mind to mind about random things, and then before he knows it they're kissing, just a little.

Maglor suddenly appears and stomps his foot, startling them. They both look over at him.

"Focus," he complains at them. "Or I shall go get a glass of water and flick some at both of you."

He goes to show Elwing what he picked out for her, but suddenly she manifests/creates/whatever it's called a floating tiny bowl of water, and Maglor immediately gets it, and sticks his fingers in it and flicks some at both of them, making her laugh. Earendil smiles too. "Now pay attention, what about this outfit?"

"Sure," Elwing says easily. Earendil takes the stuff from him and adds it to his backpack. "Let's go, mother Idril is almost here."

They hurry out, and Elwing flies on ahead of them as a bird [after taking out her clothes from the backpack he's carrying], out towards where the bathhouses are. There's no elves there, at the bathhouses, when they all finally get there [and a page met them on the way over to bring Maglor his own clothes for this.]

"These are the baths for royals only," Maglor tells Earendil, after they go inside, change their clothes [they leave them in the apodyterium], and then go into the different rooms. There are towels already there stacked up, and extra sandals for people, lotions, extra clothes, different oils if you want to apply some to your skin or hair, and soap and washcloths for the rinsing off. The ladies go into their own bathhouse next door, they see in the distance. Idril waves bye to them, and they wave back.

Inside the rooms are dimly lit with insane amounts of art on the walls. Also, sculptures everywhere. There are different water temperatures in separate pools, and everything. In the water, they wear just light trunks. Maglor is incredibly small beside him, despite his recent improvement in health.

But then again many elves look like lean children beside Earendil. It's a tiny bit [sorry] hard to take them all super seriously when they act like perfect robots, don't seem to emote, and are small. Only a few of them are actually bigger, stronger and taller than regular elves -- Thingol of course, but that's half probably due to Melian's weird effect on him, Finwe is pretty tall, Glorfindel, Feanor is big but not as tall and big as Nelyo, Fingolfin, Gil-Galad. Ingwë too, who he's rarely ever seen. Maglor told him about him during some of his lessons on 'people to know about: ancient Aman version.'

The water in the baths is scented; one pool like jasmine and green plants, one like lavender and wood.

He gets into the water and sits beside Maglor for a while in each room. It's almost scary to see Maglor look so vulnerable and slight, in the water. He was the only person who stood between Elrond's torture and death when he was a baby -- either from Maglor's own side or from Morgoth.

It'd all be [a super tiny bit] easier to take if Maglor was some super ripped, buff warrior. But he's not.

Maglor takes him through the different rooms, and they try everything. And then they towel off and put on the robes they brought and go into a room with a lot of big couches and pillows.

"Let us rest for a moment," he says, and Maglor lays down on one big dark purple sofa and goes into reverie, laying up against a giant cushion. Earendil sits beside him on the settee.

Eventually he gets bored of sitting there, and leans against him [gently] and rests his head against Maglor's shoulder and short hair. Elrond told him once that Maglor has an intense bad reaction if his hair isn't short, but that the elves en masse interpret it as penance or punishment. After a little bit, Earendil grabs a blanket from the big supply area of them and puts it over Maglor so he won't get cold while he's unconscious-ish. Or however elves describe being in reverie.

After this whole baths routine, he can tell Maglor got much more out of it than he did. He seemed to feel better after it all ... Earendil feels like he sat in a pool that smelt a little like perfume a couple of times. It's okay, but it's not mind blowing. It's just nice.

Eventually Maglor comes out of reverie.

He blinks and looks over at Earendil. "You must have a massage now," he tells him, like it's obvious.

"That's part of it?" Earendil asks him, watching him get up slowly.

"Yes, of course," Maglor says easily, like it's obvious, and takes him into [yet] another fancy room that has walls decorated with a jeweled version of a 'painting' [just with a lot of jewels] of the awakening at Cuiviénen. It's very pretty, and impressive. The art in all the rooms is.

One room had walls of waterfall engravings; another had frescoes of many plants, it looked like a depiction of a forest.

"Lay here, be comfortable," Maglor directs him, and then he gets up beside him, and rubs his shoulders. Thank goodness he likes him, because if Maglor didn't then he could never let this happen with someone else.

Honestly, this should be what category Maglor's 'expert artist' status is in instead of music, Earendil thinks. He's so talented at this. His hands are so gentle at certain times, softly stroking his skin, his neck, and then at other times he aggressively kneads at his muscles until he's pretty sure he wouldn't even fight back if a monster burst through the door [unexpectedly]. Maglor's hands are almost disturbingly strong.

It feels so good that he spaces out during it, and often falls asleep. It hurts a bit as he pushes into his skin a little, but then afterwards it feels so, so good. Somehow Maglor just is crazy amazing at it.

He can almost feel his energy pouring over him, into his skin, as a literal feeling -- some good feeling, like the sun shining warmly on your skin when you're cold and want to feel warmth. Somehow, he warms his insides; it's almost about the spirit instead of the body altogether.

And then after a restorative, very satisfying nap, he finally wakes up and finds Maglor laying on the little bed next to him, looking up at the [beautifully decorated] ceiling bas reliefs. The cream colored sheets are very soft, on the little beds; Maglor put one over him while he was asleep, he realizes.

"Hey," he says, and Maglor turns his head towards him, and smiles.

His dark black short hair is a little messed up from being in the pools; it makes him look like a little kid, in a way. Earendil sits up and puts on his own robe again, he'd taken it off for his massage; Maglor's is on.

It feels okay to be unclothed in front of him, but he still prefers to be covered. On his ship it was often cold and windy, he's in the habit of wearing many layers, still. Though it's not like Maglor is some random elf person, he's almost one of them, in a sense. He's on the 'non-elf' side, kind of, as much as one of them can be, anyway. He's the person with the most expertise on partial-elves, anyway, since he's been with Elrond longer than Nimloth knew her sons or Elwing or Dior, longer than Earendil and Elwing knew their sons, and longer than Idril knew Earendil.

He's pretty much an authority at this point. Earendil knows that elves often try to ask him about them all, the 'different' ones, but that he will not speak of them -- and will even say he will 'tell' them all about the question, as well as who it came from, which horrifies the elves, typically. They don't want to seem nosy or something. ... Even though they are.

Earendil understands. It's only natural that they be weirded out/interested in the very rare beings that are kind of like them but not.

"We should drink something now," Maglor tells him.

He gets up and goes over to take bottles from a little cart on the side of the room, and walks back. He hands Earendil one, and opens his own and drinks. It's cool fresh water.

Originally elves drank water straight from fresh sources, Earendil knows, but Elrond's people later got more intense about treating it first, due to middle earth being so dangerous and so marred. He told him about it once. In the past Earendil often drank very light beer due to this [despite not loving it], since where he lived there were not places where water was boiled first or purified or whatever. ... He tuned out while Elrond talked about it, it was too technical for him.

"Elwing talked to my mind," Maglor tells him after a minute, as he keeps drinking his water. "She said she and Princess Idril finished, and went out to the artisans for fun, to see the new fashions and wares. I told her we were resting. There's something about warm water that is tiring, I feel like. Do you wish to go join them?"

"Nah," Earendil tells him. "It's nice for them to have fun together."

It's also nice how Maglor always words things in a very specific way -- he didn't say Earendil was sleeping, he says 'we' were 'resting'. He always phrases things in a super slippery way, never actually saying the truth about stuff if it marks out anyone [the usual non-full-elven suspects] as different or non-elven. It's neat, to get to kind of slide by, for their differences not to have to be mentioned ad nauseum all the time.

While he knows Maglor feels fine staying here doing nothing, he kind of doesn't, honestly. Maglor was born to greatness, and also was great himself [re music], and then later in his life things went haywire. But for Earendil, he was barely a child when everything fell apart forever. He feels a little weird about literally being important enough to go to the baths by himself, alone, except for Maglor. Normal elves don't have this happen for them, he knows.

These baths are probably used by the higher level of Feanoreans, he thinks, but since Maglor had them come, both the male and female baths were closed to the public, to the lower rank elves.

"What're Finno and Nelyo up to?" he asks him.

"I think they are ordering some new clothes with the tailors, at their house," Maglor muses, "but I shan't want to interrupt that. They are our people, who know what Nelyo needs, and how to not make him feel any odd way about it all. I suppose I am at loose ends today. Everyone is out doing something. What should you prefer to do, my dear, with the rest of the day?"

Earendil shrugs.

"I could play, if you wish," Maglor tells him, and he nods. "But where, your house?"

"Okay, yeah," he agrees.

It's a thing that's weird to ask for, honestly, unless he's using it as a way to get out of some uncomfortable situation. He likes it when Maglor offers it.

"Let's get dressed," Maglor says then, and rises, leaving his bottle on the bed and heading towards the 'leave your stuff here' area. Earendil follows him, and sets his bottle on the floor.

It can be weird to not handle everything around him, here on land, when he's off his ship. Onboard, he controls everything in a sense, and handles everything. Here he's in another world, another culture kind of. What he's used to is alien here.

Maglor has cautioned him before to 'never do the servants' work' because it's not how Aman's Noldor culture works ... or really most elf cultures. Apparently, if someone breaks these rules, then the pages literally have nothing to do, if their purpose is to wait on royals, and it also looks like they are spurning the lower elves deliberately, by 'refusing' to be served correctly. Some of the servants apparently don't like it when royals do things themselves, instead of like how things have always been done. Earendil has a feeling Elrond gets a way with a lot in these categories, and is sure his people excuse him for it in a way they're not going to excuse Earendil. So he follows Maglor's lead.

When he's visited the old court, in the palace in Tirion, it's suffocating. Elves everywhere, courtiers and royals, servants at hand every three feet. They even do things like pour the wine, get more food onto people's plates, all of it.

[Of course he and Elwing alone get special treatment, since Malgor wrote ahead of their trip to 'Ara and Nolo' as he calls them, telling them how they must act and what they must do for them; ie, no servants at meals, which must be in private with only one [1] king at a time, and no elves in their rooms at any time, despite all this being unheard of.]

They go put their clothes back on, and trek over to Earendil's big house. It was nice of Elrond to give it to him.

Once there, they head inside and Maglor asks him, "Do you want a juice? I would like one myself. An astringent one, like I used to have."

They sit on the sofas in the usual parlor they mostly hang out in, and Earendil asks him, "Was it like that back when you guys did it, when the trees were there?"

In early Aman, he means. The new trees are here, but Maglor and Glorfindel have told him they aren't as totally awesome as the original ones; though they admit that may be nostalgia talking.

Maglor leans back sideways against some giant cushions and hmmms in thought. "Yes, I would say," he agrees. "Except these are much less impressive bathhouses, of course, being newly made, and not of old. Did you see the ones in Tirion?"

"No," Earendil reports.

"I would take you to them, but they'd all comment on it, on me doing it," Maglor dismisses. "It's easier here, where everyone knows me. They don't care what I do. In normal ones they are packed with people gossiping, and showing off. Glorfindel would love to be a fly on that wall, to hear that idle talk. Let me order some juice -- do you want some too?"

He nods.

Maglor walks up to the front door, summons a servant, orders them to bring him a vast array of juices, and then returns.

He complains about Tirion for a while, with Earendil chiming in re his own recent experiences, they talk about it. And then the pages appear with a tray. Maglor goes to the door and brings it in, setting it on the big table in the room: there are little glass jugs of apple-strawberry juice, pear-apricot, pomegranate-grape, carrot, other ones, and some tomato juice. All of them have extensive garnishes, like celery, or mini tomatoes, or pieces of fruit in a big cup.

They both try a bunch of the juices.

Maglor gives him his 'review' of them; he's a bit more of a gourmet than Earendil is. He talks this way about wine and spirits too, just like Finno does, and Elrond too. Earendil has simpler tastes.

And then eventually, Maglor plays for him.

It's very relaxing. He comes back to himself afterwards -- Maglor is going over Elwing's homework with her, clearly in osanwe, he sees. His mother is there too, Idril.

Elwing looks over at him. "I'm back," she says, and they both smile at each other.

"How was it?" he asks.

Elwing tilts her head, thinking. "Wet," she decides. "Like a bath that never ends. Did you get a little prune-y?" she asks.

Earendil nods. They all [the partial elves] react differently skin-wise to things. Maglor's skin is the same as it was before; their skin gets a little tiny bit wrinkly for a second.

"What did you think?" he asks Elwing.

Elwing is very beautiful, he thinks to himself, as he watches them discuss it together. Maglor asks about how Idril liked it, and Elwing tells him. Elwing glows like Earendil does, just more and more sparkly, somehow; Maglor's eyes glow more than the rest of himself, like an elf, unlike with them.

Elwing's shortish dark hair is pretty, her face is pretty, her body is obviously very amazing in the conventional sense.

And he likes how she is 'more'. Just more everything -- not bound to being a person, if she doesn't feel like it. She does whatever she wants, 'is' whatever she wants. She is free, in a sense, like that. He likes to see it. Earendil doesn't really want that for himself, but it's nice to see someone else, that he loves, have that power and inhabit it fully and enjoy it and her life.

She's his lady for a reason, and not just cause they are/were both the only available match of partial elf people in the same place at the same time.

'Yes', she whispers to him, with her power. It's not like osanwe, but it is, at the same time.

He smiles to himself.

Elwing tells Maglor, "It is prettier. But I already knew that. I looked at both as a ghost before, just to see what they were. Yes, even the boy one. Ha!"

Even Idril looks shocked now too, not just Maglor. Mentally, Maglor moves his head a little, clearly trying to absorb this information and deal with it.

"Well, at least I've never been before, here," Maglor muses.

Maglor plays for Elwing later when she asks, and then she tells him Nelyo wants him [in a casual, non-emergency way], so he hustles out of there to go to Nelyo's house. Idril stays for a while, and talks to them. It's always a relief to see how happy she and his father are, and also it's so isolating, because they got to be happy together in Aman while Elwing and Earendil were busy being dead from grief [and with his sailing, etc.]

Later, Elwing tells Earendil, alone in his house together, "Mother Idril is doing good. She said she talks to Elrond for advice about having to meet her mother anew, cause she barely knew her when she died."

"Oh," he says, surprised. He goes to see his parents more often now, but Elwing goes to see Idril all the time, on her own.

"I thought of a surprise for you," she adds, and says "wait here!" and walks into the other room.

So he waits.

Then she walks back in -- but it's not her. Her clothes are different; somehow her body or stature, something like that. Even her face is different, he notices, weirded out. Wait, it's actually not her face, it just vaguely resembles her; and she doesn't glow like usual all over. "Huh?" he murmurs, confused.

"It's a glamour," Elwing explains, in a strange and different voice. "I'm dressed up as an elf, with magic -- this is what I'd be as an elf, maybe."

"I don't recognize you, it's like it's not you," Earendil says, creeped out. "I like the real you."

She drops it and is herself again. Earendil breathes out, relieved. "That was scary," he informs her.

Elwing laughs, smiles, and comes to him and sits on his lap. They kiss, and get involved in that for a while.

"I've got you all to myself," she tells Earendil then, and they look at each other, both pleased. They go upstairs to their 'bed for sex', since they sleep in his hammock together, and she stalks towards him like some big stalking cat animal, and then jumps on top of him, and they both laugh, and they get intimate.

It feels very good, other than in the obvious way [which it does too, of course], to be close to someone. To lay against another person. He needs it all the time, now.

Elwing is nice to snuggle against, after their intimacy; she loves him romantically, and he loves her. He can feel it, through osmosis, almost. And Maglor is nice to be close to too, because he loves him in a different way, and he radiates a gentler, more purely comforting and paternal kind of love, that is possessive, which feels good. He can feel his wish for him to be happy, safe, relaxed. It soaks into him somehow, with magic or something.

Like standing on the sand at the shore, how the water laps over your feet. Waves of lighter feelings pour into him from his hands.

Often it almost seems to lift the dark veil of pain up off of him, and he feels like he can breathe. Or breathe easier. It's a lifeline, a godsend. Maglor has a lot of loving, positive energy, and douses him in it when they touch. Glorfindel too does this, but in a milder kind of way; more like a kind friend than a protective parent.

The next day Elrond invites them to try fancy, expensive alcohol with him, to see if they like any or not. They only try things they've never had before. It turns out they both like sweet stuff like Tokaji eszencia, Yquem, things like that.

"Everyone who wanted to go is gone, now, I've heard," Elrond tells them, as they three try the spirits and wines and all of it in different little glasses. "Most of the 'low' [as they say] elves have all left Aman by now for the new lands of the other continents of the remade world. Thranduil stays, but his father leaves; thank goodness. Legolas stays as well. Celeborn is going to visit with some of his archers, but just to see it all, and then return to Galadriel, here. I am happy for them all, I understand their desire -- I barely like Aman even now, except for mine own new Rivendell, here."

"Us too," Earendil agrees, and so does Elwing. Many elves really didn't want to come to Aman at all, but were forced cross the sea or fade away into a fate worse [kinda] than elven death.

Maglor, Glorfindel, Finno and everyone else are busy dealing with Ara and Nolo's current visit to new Rivendell. It is difficult for elves to try to see Elrond off the cuff, given that he is no 'ruler' now, officially. That's the quasi legal line, at least.

"I hear even Melian has taken Thingol over there," Elrond continues, telling them all the scuttlebutt. "Some of the people of Doriath have gone with her, like Nellas."

They have finished their wine tasting, so Elrond has a servant come and take the trays of different beverage glasses and tiny bottles away.

Later in the day Earendil walks out by himself to the elf-made ponds and lakes and streams in new Rivendell, with their aquaculture work is. It's nice to see all the sea creatures there without having to go all the way to the coast.

There are a few elves working there, but they only nod respectfully to him if they look at him. He prefers that; he doesn't want to have to talk to them. They are all Feanoreans anyway, so they are busy with their work. And besides, it's often annoying to talk to elves [not in his circle]. He never seems to say what they expect, anyway, so what's the point.

And admittedly, he gets extremely annoyed if they talk about him personally, mention that poem [or that his eyes are 'so green', and he's 'radiant'], or that stupid slogan they love to say ['Aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima'], or any sailing slang. For some reason the last one just makes him see red in an extra way; phrases like batten down the hatches, above board, three sheets to the wind, as the crow flies, pipe down, taken aback, to get through something with flying colors, true colors, try a different tack, under the weather, etc.

He watches the many sea creatures swim about in the various disperate water areas for a while, for fun.

Then finally, he turns and keeps walking.

He passes the granaries, for threshed grain, the stables and horse roaming areas, different workshops. There is a whole area just for shoes -- for the cordwainers, who make very comfortable shoes actually. Earendil's feet are bigger than most elves' feet, and a little different, he's noticed, when he's seen Glorfindel or Maglor's feet [and his mother's, but he'd assumed being a lady was the difference there, at first.]

There's an area for elves who do hair styling for the new Rivendell elves, and cut it, and all that. He's never been in there. Earendil could never let some strange elf touch him, so up close [the last time that happened, he almost died, when he was a boy -- and how the Gondolin survivors had cursed Turgon's name, endlessly. It had been a never ending nightmare, until he met Elwing in Sirion.] It's creepy. He cut his hair himself while sailing; now sometimes Glorfindel wants to make his hair look more 'fancy', so Earendil asks Maglor to do it. He's way faster with it than the more 'artistic' and precise Glorfindel.

He never walks near the theater area, or the music and performance sections of the settlement. He has no interest in them, in a sense, unless he's keen to hear Maglor's songs but he is not able to play for him right then.

Sometimes elves offer him things, like a cookie or something -- but never do any players offer to play for him. This must be because Maglor plays for him. He can't imagine that it's a secret; huge crowds of elves gather all the time to hear him play, even just outside of Elrond's study rooms.

After a long time he finally walks back home. It's restful to be out in nature, to smell the crisp air and walk in the forest and in the nature of new Rivendell. Sometimes there are dense copses of trees, other times wide open areas of just wild grasses of all kinds.

It's not really a patrol or something, but there are times he has this energy and can't get it out, and this seems to alleviate it. And on the side it's technically nice to check and make sure the area is safe, too. It's a good thing. Sometimes on his walks he goes and says hi to Nimloth, if she's home, or he'll pass Elwing's brothers' house and there they will wave hello, as will Aredhel, who apparently lives there with them too now. So sometimes he avoids their house when he walks.

[Is it a struggle for him? Yes. But he can't say what he really thinks and have Elrond mad at him for disturbing the peace of new Rivendell. Aredhel's family destroyed his entire life. Sure, there were some good things like getting to be with Elwing, and now getting to know Elrond, and that Tuor sailed in time before he died like a mortal, but still. He'll never forget what happened. Ever.]

"I couldn't be with two of you at the same time," Earendil tells Elwing, when he gets home. She's there in his domicile, hanging out.

She laughs, implicitly and immediately understanding that he is referring to her brothers and Aredhel.

"Am I too much to handle?" she jokes, smiling. He can tell, even though she looks like some flowers in a vase on the table instead of a person.

"Hopefully for anyone but me, making me the best choice," Earendil says, and she scatters all different color flower petals all over him, magically, where he is sitting in a chair. They rest together for a little while, he puts a hand over some of the petals.

"One of my friends wants us to go see her house on the coast," Elwing says eventually. "Do you wanna go too?"

"I guess. I could try to bring some of the guys to my ship, and then be polite and visit her place for a moment. What do you think?" he asks her.

Elwing already knows how terrible he is at socializing with elves he doesn't know very well. They all seem to have, and follow, a 'royal elf conversing script' that he's never seen. Maglor can do it, and Elrond effortlessly, and the rest of them. But he isn't good at it. He can tell by the weird pauses when the elves try to interact with him, and the faces they clearly are trying not to make, the expressions of confusion they try to suppress.

"Yeah, that's cool," she agrees, so he decides to tell the guys the next day.

Cirdan and Gil-Galad are actually out at his house by the new two trees, so he can't invite them. Elrond doesn't care for ships [which kind of hurts, actually, but he tries not to think about it], Glorfindel and Maglor might want to come, and Nelyo never goes to the shore [for kinslaying reasons], so Finno doesn't go either. Odd, how Maglor is welcomed by Olwe at the coast, unlike the rest of the Feanoreans. It must be because they want to hear his music too much, and it makes them set aside their anger at him.

He and Elwing spend some nice time together. It's relaxing to be together, two of a kind. They can be fully themselves. It's almost the same now with Maglor, which is nice, too. She often takes him magically to random places on the coasts of Aman so they can look at seashells together. It's kind of their hobby.

Sometimes elves send her shells in the mail. If she likes them she displays them in a special 'elf gifts' room in her house, and if she doesn't like one she puts it in one of her cave/basement storage rooms.

The coast is their special place, together. Just them, having fun looking at shells.

Elwing told him she tried taking Elrond once, but he didn't seem into it. She was sad about it after. He gets it, cause of how Elrond has zero interest in sailing. It just drives it home how they gave up Elrond, and he has nothing in common with them, and doesn't know them. Like Elwing's parents messed up her life, so they messed up Elrond's. He tries not to think of Elros because of how it makes him cry. Sometimes he can't stop, and Maglor comes and tries to help him calm down.

He walks over to Elrond's rooms to see everyone in town, and finds that Maglor is all alone, working on writing music, sitting on his daybed in Elrond's study like usual. It's a typical scene.

"Glorfindel is off rock climbing," Maglor tells him when he walks in, sounding disgusted. "I told him I disapproved. He 'claims' it's very simple and safe. Elrond has gone too, in case anyone gets hurt. ... Tell me you're not into this nonsense, too."

Earendil smiles at how grumpy he is. He isn't very threatening, not after how he's treated him and Elwing lovingly, as if they're his 'kids' too, like some extra playmates of Elrond.

Earendil knows they should probably learn about the elves and get used to their culture already, but he doesn't want to. It's childish, yes. He doesn't care. He has no interest in them, or this place of Aman; it is all foreign to him. Maglor helps them all the time in this vein, doing things for them so they don't have to bother to learn about it all, or talk to elves.

[Earendil can barely remember Gondolin, and tries never to, doesn't want to -- and in Sirion they all [his family and Elwing] lived very unusually, of course. Nothing 'normal' happened re the Noldor culture stuff, and Idril said he and Elwing could go play at the shore all the time together. They hadn't even had to do normal learning lessons or anything. It had been amazing.

And then he had started learning about the ocean from Cirdan, but he was excited to work outdoors on sailing and shipbuilding. Idril had tried to teach Elwing things while he was busy, but Elwing told him once that Idril mostly just played games with her, and hung out at the shore with her. He was glad she was having fun too.]

Maglor's slight stature makes it almost funny when he gets crabby. He looks kind of like a kid whining and kvetching; it's weird how sometimes he looks more ancient and wise and powerful, and a source of solace. Or he'll look like a famous celebrity, and prince, fun, witty and charismatic. And then once in a great while he'll look super vulnerable, which is hard to see, because he's more like their rock than anything else.

He and Elwing go to him at times, if they're feeling terrible, and he comforts them. Maglor and Finno should probably be professional healers at his point, Earendil thinks, what with their track record of heping Nelyo recover, and then how Maglor was a beloved parent for an abandoned child[ren?] during a war [Elrond], and now how he helps him and Elwing with their moods. Their problem moods, which happen once in a while.

Okay, for Earendil it's pretty often, to be honest.

"No, I'm not," he agrees, and Maglor looks appeased, a little. "What else is going on, anything?"

"Mother has written to me, saying the builders are demanding that I choose how I want my new music building," Maglor tells him, as he sits down near him. "I think I'm going to tell them just to redo it without changing anything."

"Couldn't we just pick some stuff out in some library books of Elrond's?" Earendil suggests. "You liked some stuff before, remember."

They have looked at books on architecture that Earendil went and got out. He's got a lot of free time, okay? Everyone else has their own stuff to do:
-Nelyo recovers
-Finno helps him
-Maglor writes music or plays/sings it
-Elrond reads or heals people or does 'elf-king-like' things with Gil-Galad and other elf kings
-Elwing has adventures and also lady friend hangouts
-Erestor apparently runs the entire settlement
-Glorfindel does many things: helps people, badgers people [okay ... mostly just Maglor to do healthy things], shops, designs clothes, designs performance stuff, plays sports

It's Earendil who has nothing to do, now that he doesn't sail in the sky. He's the odd one out. He has no other interests or knowledge.

"I suppose," Maglor says, heaving a melodramatic sigh. Earendil tries not to laugh. He is very over the top, at times, in a funny way. "Do you want to accompany me?"

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Then let us go," Maglor decides, rising, and puts on his cloak, and they walk over the library complex. It's obviously enormous.

Maglor still wears cloaks even if he doesn't need to re the weather. He must be trying to hide his face from everyone still. When they get to the library, he goes into one of Elrond's personal book chambers, [which is insanely crammed with books to the point it seems almost hazardous, honestly], and sits down. Earendil takes some books off of a couch and sits down on it. It takes a minute to clear, cause of how many tomes are piled up on it.

"I shall call a page to fetch us some volumes," Maglor says, but Earendil cuts him off.

"Why don't I just get the books I got last time?" he suggests, and Maglor shrugs, making a moue of acceptance.

"If you wish it. You mustn't take on tasks that are menial unless you truly want to."

"I want to," he assures him, and walks out of the room, down into the almost cavernously large book areas. They are arranged by topic and then by year of being written, he knows. Elrond told him once.

He remembers where he'd looked at the architecture books before, a few times -- because of how Maglor had mentioned he might like it or be good at it, in another life, and because of how he'd idly looked for fun after the topic of the rebuilding of the music building came up a while ago.

The library is so big that he doesn't even encouter other elves on the way to the area of the architecture section he's headed towards, only sees them in the distance. He never gets used to how incredibly crazy Elrond is about books; he seems so normal, so refined, otherwise. He grabs some books and walks back to the little room, where he finds that Maglor has already procured himself a tray of drinks -- and he's drinking some wine.

Also, Nelyo is there with him.

"Hail, book ferrier," Nelyo says to him as he enters, which makes him smile. It's a joke, a twist on the usual elf greeting to him -- it's a nicer thing to hear than the usual pomp and nonsense praise elves greet him with often.

The two of them have obviously cleared off another area to sit [of books] so that Nelyo can be comfortable.

"I think Nelyo was concerned," Maglor tells him, tone facetious, as Earendil puts the books he's holding down ... on top of other books, on a table that is, well, already covered with books. Of course. "That you were going to try to design my whole music building with nautical themed everything, and matching decor. He's here to make sure it doesn't look like I somehow stole building plans from Cirdan."

He chuckles in disbelief for a second.

Nelyo gives him a 'honestly' look, re Maglor's joking. They often exchange looks about Maglor for different reasons.

The real reason is probably that Nelyo wanted to be near his closest brother, because this often happens. Nelyo will just show up randomly wherever Maglor is, oft even without Finno, who sometimes lurks nearby. Earendil hasn't asked them all about it. It's probably about Nelyo's torture and all that.

"Have you seen this volume?" Maglor asks Nelyo, holding up a little book with a fancy cover, and he shakes his head minutely. Nelyo rarely acts like a regular elf; instead of being bracing and enjoyable like Earendil usually finds that kind of thing, it often feels sad and terrible.

They discuss what's in that one together; Nelyo mostly listens. He does not speak as much as a normal elf, so sometimes Earendil tries to talk more to make up for it, when Nelyo is there. So it all will still seem 'normal'.

Finno bursts into the room, suddenly, so they all freeze and turn to look at him.

"Kano, forgive me," he cautions Maglor, and Maglor grimaces. Finno goes to Nelyo and kisses his forehead and sits beside him, and adds, "It's nothing important. It's just that Maglor shall be so cross with me. He'll throw pillows at me and everything."

"That's something I never like to hear said first off," Maglor muses wryly.

"It's just nothing at all," Finno insists. " ... Well, it's just that I was in Tirion for a minute, and someone said 'no one's good enough at music for Maglor to praise', and I said it wasn't so, that you have praised other singers and players. And then they all looked at me, in court, so I gave the example of the other day. When the bird was chirping and you said it was like of my men's singing, and I explained you'd sung it for me because I forgot the song, and said it was a nice song. And then I realized that you probably were going to not like me mentioning all that in the first place, but it was too late. So I told them all they mustn't tell you or speak of it, but I can't trust my father -- nor myself. As soon as I thought about it, I wanted to tell you the truth."

Maglor laughs, to everyone's surprise.

"Well, I hope the singer wasn't too offended," he says mildly, and Finno nods.

"He seemed like he was pleased," Finno confirms, and Maglor then shrugs.

"Then who cares," Maglor says easily. "If your father turns up to speak of it to me, I shall direct him to you. Same for Ara."

Finno laughs gaily.

"How harsh this is, as a consequence," he says, in a funny, fake overwrought manner. "That I must speak to mine own father."

They all smile at his japery. Of course it's true that Finno seems to despise talking to Nolo, but still.

"Oh," Earendil suddenly says, realizing he forgot to tell Maglor about the coast-friend of Elwing's house. "Elwing's friend, the coast one, has a house there. And she's gonna go see it. And I was going to say say hi for a second, there. And stay on my ship. In case you wanna go."

He looks at Nelyo and Finno. "You guys could stay on my ship, if you want. It's pretty big."

Maglor's been the coast many times, and so has Feanor actually, with his step-brothers. Earendil can't imagine Nelyo being a problem.

The two of them look at each other, and Maglor looks at them. They're thinking on it, or talking with osanwe, he doesn't know. Earendil opens a book and takes a look at it while they do their interplay. The ships stealing [and then burning] was so long time ago now, he thinks. If Olwe is still bitching about it, he needs a life. How many millions of years must pass before people stop wanting to keep punishing the kinslayers in some weird eternal power play? It's getting kind of silly.

Especially because Finwe set it all in motion, that little shit.

"Okay," Finno says. "We'll come. I have to plan what to wear. Like, beach clothes."

The two of them leave then, presumably to choose their clothes, and Maglor glances over at the book Earendil is looking at. [There are pictures, which he prefers in books.] "This is nice," Earendil tells him, and Maglor peers at the page he has open.

It's a style that almost looks new Rivendell's, really. From what Earendil can tell, Noldor style and Sindar too are blended in new Rivendell -- some parts are pure Noldor, and other areas and buildings are more outside, in nature and not so formal or fancy. It's a strange combo that he likes -- and apparently Elrond likes too, since it's his city.

They look at books for a while, and Maglor decides he agrees with his first idea. "I will give them this book to look at, to explain it," Maglor says, "instead of dictating it myself. I have no love of rule."

He seems quite done with books.

Glorfindel comes into the room then, to their surprise. "See? I'm alive," he tells them.

Maglor rolls his eyes. "Some say unfortunately, I've heard."

Glorfindel laughs, pleased at his teasing, leaning against the doorframe. His outfit is ... unique -- bright tropical colors, all clashing, not that Earendil knows anything about fashion. "Who would say that, other than you? You're so persnickety."

"You started it," Maglor accuses him airily.

It's fun to watch them.

"We're going to my ship with Nelyo and Finno," Earendil gets in as they both pause to breathe during this, to inform Glorfindel of what's going on. It can be hard to get a word in edgewise when the two of them are together.

"Without me?" Glorfindel says, offended.

"Well, how are you going to dress?" Maglor questions, and they immediately go back to their talking.

Finally they ease off each other, and Glorfindel looks at Earendil and says, "Okay, I'll come. I want to try to surf, though."

"I'm sure people there will help you try it," Earendil offers.

So they all go. Cirdan comes too, having showed up early.

They bring servants, but they join them along the way -- Finno's people, he can see, and Galadriel's too, weirdly, from Tirion. Apparently some stay there despite her living mostly in her tree-house area. Earendil doesn't say anything when they all come onto his ship, even though it's weird to have random elves on there. Thank goodness the ship is so big, he thinks.

He hangs out there for a while with them all. He shows them the ship. Many of the servant elves seem to act like it's the most amazing thing they've ever seen; others openly stare at Earendil like he's fascinating or something. It's creepy, but then many elves are. He already knows that. And Maglor shoos them away, when he sees them do it; Finno too. Nelyo is more in his own world.

When an elf from Cirdan's comes to ask what he wants for meals, and when he wants them taken to his ship, he shrugs, and says, "I need enough stuff for these elf people here. So whatever elves eat. And as much as this many need. I don't really know how much that is, you know? Better err on the side of caution and give them a lot of sandwiches or something. I don't want people to think I'm stupid or mean."

The dock-Cirdan elf bows to him, and says he'll handle it.

Elwing brings Eärwen down to the ship, to see it. She asks him if it really flies, so he flies it for her. It's the same as sailing, it's just in the air. Some of the servants elves seem like they might have a stroke, so he tells Maglor with osanwe to watch out in case they pass out and hit their heads on the deck.

Eärwen looks excited. She is dressed like an 'elf queen', so overdone and elaborate and jewels and all that. All the royal elves look like sparkly toys, honestly. It looks silly.

Lots of servants come with her, but stay on the dock, thank goodness. And he isn't sure why Finno needs all these people of his with him, but it's probably be for Nelyo's health or calm, or something. Like he needs to feel 'secure' with a platoon of people or whatever. Who knows.

He only flies in the air for a little while, and then puts the ship back in the harbor.

"Thank you, Lord Earendil," Eärwen tells him after, joyful like a little kid would be. "Shall you wish to come with us, to see our palace on the sea?"

"Sure," he agrees, "I'll grab my cloak."

He goes down belowdecks, and Maglor goes after him. "Are you sure you want everyone here, on the boat, when you're not?" he asks.

"Who cares, really," Earendil explains, grabbing a different cloak. How it feels on the sea is different than how it feels on the coastline. "I don't mind."

"Well ... I won't let anyone touch the wheel," Maglor tells him.

He laughs.

"I'm just going to see this place of Elwing's friend," he says to him. "I'll be back after a few hours, probably."

"Alright," Maglor agrees.

"I'll stay here with you," Elwing suddenly says, appearing out of nowhere.

"Oh, good," Maglor exclaims, pleased. "And how are you?"

"I'm okay," Elwing tells him. "Bye," she tells Earendil, and he bids them both farewell for now, and goes up to the deck, and follows Eärwen and her pages on a horse they have brought for him.

After some travel, they get to her manse.

"Ara is inside," Eärwen tells him as they approach it. "I think he is nervous of you, because you are so famous."

Earendil huffs a laugh. "He shouldn't bother. I'm not very sauve."

They demount their horses, a page comes to take his from him, and he then follows her inside their quite enormous abode.

Ara is indeed there, in a side room, and rises when he sees them. "Lord Earendil, I bid you welcome," he tells him.

He's blonde and has on a ridiculous fancy outfit, with jewel overload. It's almost funny, to see how these Aman-stayed-here people dress like this; as opposed to people more fresh from middle Earth, or reborn from Mandos much later. It must be some cultural issue they have. Those royals all seem to dress like this, mostly.

"They want me to see the house for a minute," Earendil explains to him. "I haven't seen all the areas here in Aman before."

"You could stay here with Princess Elwing, for --" Ara says, but he cuts him off. He's not interested.

"I don't usually stay in elf-houses," he explains. "So I'll just look around and leave." Earendil looks to Eärwen then, who nods, and smiles, and says, "Let me give you a tour."

He follows her around, and Ara follows. They both are clearly proud of this place. Like jewels are something to be proud of. Like they aren't a dime a dozen in Aman.

At the end of it, he tells her, "Thanks. I'll go back and send her your way, if she wants to come. I don't know what she'll decide."

Eärwen agrees, as Ara tries to get him to stay. Earendil just looks at him. "You could stay for luncheon," he begins, and talks for a while.

The dude just keeps talking; kind of like Fingolfin, actually. There's no way to shut elves up if they get formal-chatty honestly, even if you try to reason with them. He knows that from experience here in Aman. Finally Earendil just walks away, and says as he goes, "I'm good. Bye," to Eärwen.

She laughs and he goes and finds the horse they brought him, and rides back. Once back at the docks, he sends the horse back. Elf horses are able to do what they want, and choose to stay with the elves they live with, typically. Back on the docks he finds Maglor playing and so it's difficult to actually get up to his ship, cause there are so many elves sitting out to listen to him.

After squeezing past a zillion of them, he gets up onboard and nods hello to Finno, who is able to stay very sharp and alert when Maglor plays, he assumes due to when Nelyo needed full-time medical care so long ago.

Elwing is listening too; he goes and sits with her. She touches her soul to his, and at once they both know what just happened with him at Eärwen's house, and here on the ship. It's very handy. He can feel her pleasure at being with him, and he feels the same way. And then when Maglor finishes this song, Elwing tells him with osanwe that she'll go back to Eärwen's house now, and he says 'have fun' mentally, and she turns into a bird and flies out to her house.

He gets startled for a moment by how the elves all gasp and exclaim in shock and awe at her transformation. He's gotten used to being at home in new Rivendell, where no one is surprised about either of them, or with his parents, who of course have know Elwing for such a long time, same for Nimloth, though she's working on knowing Elwing more now.

Maglor leaves his harp and walks over to him.

"How was it?" he asks. "Shall we have lunch, or did you eat there?"

"Let's have it," Earendil agrees. "I didn't eat, over there."

Maglor tells the page elves of Cirdan to bring food now, and they do. He also explains to them all that he is done playing for right now, so the elves on the dock disperse, disappointed.

Trays of food are brought up to the deck, and everyone eats. Finno had asked him if the pages should eat belowdeck or vice versa for them, but he said everyone should eat together, sitting on the deck. Except Nelyo, he'd added. He should have pillows or whatever he usually has; and he'd then told Finno where they were located belowdecks.

So they do all eat sitting on the deck, Nelyo on a blanket and cushion with Finno. Maglor actually drinks a lot of soup, which is nice to see. Earendil tells the elves, the pages ones, that they can have blankets and pillows, but they all demur. He takes one too, for himself, and Maglor, not wanting it to be embarrassing for Nelyo to be one of the only people with one.

The food is shore food, which is boring after eating in new Rivendell all the time for so many years. There are at least hot [and also cold option] lobster rolls, clam chowder, and other stuff, but never as good as at home.

Whatever the new Rivendell people are mixing with the lobster makes it taste even better -- and their apple pie tastes amazing, and has some hard cheese and cold cream on the side, which is a nice complement.

The coast food is just okay. It's fine.

Thankfully escaping having to eat at Eärwen's house means he can eat normally instead of having to sit directly in front of two elves while they watch the 'unique and famous' person eat. Eating on deck means Maglor deliberately subtly places him in a spot where he's kinda visible, but not really, to most people; the same for Nelyo.

After eating, or rather mostly drinking for Maglor [who actually consumes a good bit, which is nice to see], Maglor plays his harp lightly -- not real songs, just light random notes that are soft and gentle.

Earendil lays back on his blanket and enjoys listening to it. It's relaxing in a non-sleep inducing way. Maglor seems to like to rest after meals, which is interesting; Earendil does too, and he has seen that Elrond does as well. Obviously Tuor does, while Elwing likes it but doesn't love it as much as say Earendil or any of them in this select group.

Elwing comes back to him at night, in his dreams. They swap stories and updates.

Earendil sleeps in his hammock on the ship of course, and Maglor rearranges the couch cushions so that Nelyo, Finno and him too can all lay together, half on top of each other, and have their elven reverie. Glorfindel sleeps on some cushions on the floor near them.

It's soooo creepy to see elves in reverie. And their eyes are quite open, as compared to Maglor's, which slide down quite a lot. Elrond said it was probably due to his old illness, but even he's not sure.

"You're right," Elwing tells him in the dream -- they are standing together right there in the cabin he's sleeping in, in it. "They do look super creepy."

They look at the three elves reverie-ing for a moment.

"Yeah," Earendil agrees. "It's way easier to see a person asleep like us than to look at this craziness."

Elwing grabs his arm, and tells him, "They think our sleep is scary, and it frightens them, to see what looks like death to their kind. They feel great fear, to see us then. It is easier for Maglor, who is used to it; and he uses his power unconsciously to sense our souls' strong lifeforce, so he feels reassured we are well then. Other elves can't see so far into us."

"Oh," he says, interested. Hm. "How was your day?"

"It was fun," she tells him. "We looked at some shells. Eärwen's husband said he saw you, like you were some hard to spot starfish at the bottom of the ocean," she laughs. "It's funny how the elves act so excited about you. Like you're a fancy cake they want to eat."

He smiles.

"Yeah, they're nuts with that," he agrees.

There are only a few elves that don't act like that. Mostly just their immediate families, and Elrond's circle.

"If you're a cake, only I get to eat you," Elwing tells him aggressively, and smiles, and he smiles back. She floats up and kisses him, and he kisses back, but they obviously don't do anything else because this is a dream, and more importantly there are elves literally everywhere on the ship, including right there in his cabin.

And they definitely don't want to have an audience, even an 'in reverie' one, or make the elves think they are more into sex or something due to their mixed, higher blood. They probably actually are, he muses, since elves seem very much to lack passionate behavior in that way, as far as he can tell. He wouldn't make the trade. It's very satisfying, to be with Elwing, in all ways.

All the things they do in terms of intimacy feel like love, and sharing, and support, and joy, all together.

The next day, he and Elwing take Maglor, Nelyo and Finno to a good area to look for seashells. "But how shall I choose which to keep?" Finno asks Elwing. "It is hard to pick."

"The right shell's gotta be artsy," she explains. "Or pretty. Or weird."

He'd originally been concerned about Maglor being at the shore, before -- not really re the ship stealing/killing [well, hopefully, and the same for the dock people], but re his own quasi-'death' there on the shores of middle earth. Thankfully, Maglor doesn't seem to be affected by being there.

They all walk around and hunt for shells for a while. They seem to like it.

Elwing goes back to Eärwen's ocean house, flying there, to hang out with her. The rest of them go back to the ship with him. Maglor plays more for the dock elves, and Olwe sends a page to Earendil, asking in a letter to come visit his palace -- and to bring Maglor. And that if Nelyo and Finno want to come, they can too, because the past is the past.

Earendil has a feeling that if Maglor wasn't in such demand due to his music, no one would be willing to say 'the past -- well, whatever'. They want to use him for his music, so they pretend they no longer feel hurt by the violence of so long ago.

It seems kinda gross to him, in either direction honestly, but Maglor is okay with it, he's said, because it helps the reconciliation of the kinslayers with the 'kin/people they slayed'.

Glorfindel goes off to do his sporting activities, and Earendil stays on his ship with the others.

And then soon it's all over, and they go home to new Rivendell. It's nice to be back at his house, to not be around so many random elves. It's like having a nice elf-detox, of ones he doesn't know, anyway. Here at home he can relax more. He likes hanging out with everyone in a chill way.

There's always stuff going on around town, or with one of the guys. No one expects him to do anything, so he can attend events if he wants, or not, if he wants. Sometimes he just sits with Maglor as he writes music.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk with me, while I write?" Maglor asks him one such time, on the porch of Nelyo's house. He often is 'around' his house, even if he's not technically in it.

"Nah," he says, next to him on the big couch on the porch. "I like the noise of the pen, during your writing."

Maglor raises his eyebrows. He can talk and write music at the same time, it's like it's some weird separate activity for him. Most elves would have to concentrate to write music, and are unable to write any as amazing as Maglor's songs sound. "That sounds like something Elrond would say."

Earendil laughs.

It kind of does, really.

Not just in general, but with Maglor specifically; he can see Elrond saying that. Maglor is not just his 'parent', he is his rescuer. When his blood parents left him behind, his enemies saved him. So it's even more of a deep loyalty they have to each other, as opposed to a random parent-child situation.

Elwing is off talking to Nerdanel, Anairë and Eärwen, all together. Apparently after a while back then, Anairë wanted to talk to Nerdanel since almost her whole family and husband were gone, and then Eärwen wanted in on the action/support group because her kids were gone.

He sits there with him for a bit, leaning against his left side; Maglor writes all the while with his other hand. He can't actually rest his head on his shoulder because Maglor is very short. [Maglor already made him scoot down and be comfortable and put a little blanket on himself; so by this point he is actually leaning his head on his shoulder.]

"It's hard for me to talk to my parents," he tells Maglor after a long time of being silent.

Maglor looks over at him. He keeps writing at the same time; it's almost eerie, how he can do it. He does the same thing while playing the harp, he doesn't need to actually look at the strings as he plays.

"Well, it can't be harder than it is for me," Maglor says. "My goodness. My mother probably disowned me back then immediately, before I even first arrived in middle earth. And talking to my father ... it's like the man I knew as a boy disappeared, and there's this other person that took his place, back then. And that's who I have to talk to now, some tamed version of that. Ugh."

Earendil often sees Feanor actually, because he and Elwing show him their inventions. It's all neat ... he's just not personally super interested in technology.

"I am lucky," Earendil acknowledges. "But it's awkward. They're so perfect and happy. My father is such a great man, my mother so good. I barely saw them for such a long time; not their fault, it was mine, later on. I didn't want to see anyone."

"Do you take them to your boat?" Maglor asks.

"They have come there before, to talk to me, and to Elwing's tower nearby there, too," Earendil says. He is very careful as he leans against Maglor, always, since he's so tiny and still thin. Though better, now. He looks more hale now. "I never know what to say. I feel like I don't know them, in a way. Of course I do. But I don't feel that way. And we have little to share with each other. Their cultures are not mine, their city is not one I even remember well."

"What about some new pursuit?" Maglor suggests. "Elrond does sculpting with Elwing, couldn't you do something new with them?"

Earendil shrugs with his free shoulder.

"Yeah ... I guess I just get tired easily, of talking to them. Or a lot of people, too. They're charismatic and I'm. Not."

"I think you are very personable, you're both magnetic in your charm," Maglor argues. He's also referencing Elwing of course.

She does look amazing, being not only beautiful [like Luthien, the elves say] but also she glows with power and light all over. The elves though often fear her just in a general way, since she's higher than them, and are more in awe of her than anything else.

"You're just being silly," he says quietly. "But it's nice. Thanks."

"Other people don't know you two like I do," Maglor defends his position, as he writes, and writes, and writes. "So I should be the one dispensing rulings, and judgments on this."

"What does it sound like in your head, when you write music?" Earendil asks him.

Maglor pauses, and looks over at him. Earendil can't really see his face perfectly because he's leaning against his side. "Well, I can try to show you with osanwe, but it probably won't be enjoyable to another person. I think the music will start and stop, and all that."

He tries it, and it does sound like that. Like an orchestra and a chorus starting and stopping play, over and over. Endlessly.

Sometimes the same moment of music plays almost on a loop, slightly changing once in a while.

It's all pretty neat. It's fun to listen to, it sounds almost as if Maglor is 'practicing' the piece, but of course he's imagining it. He's thinking of it repeatedly to help him write it down and record it perfectly.

He closes his eyes and listens to Maglor's mind, through osanwe. Though he is just an elf, his mind seems to shimmer through the connection, as if almost magical, metaphorical light radiates off of the music that is ever-present in his soul.

It's like hearing the real orchestra in new Rivendell without having to actually go over there, and deal with the elves who notice him and try to get him to sit in a 'better' seat. At least Elrond's elves leave him alone if they see him, but they're pretty nice, considering all the water under the bridge.

Maglor often reminds him of other super-focused nobles who are elite in their fields -- like Elrond with healing or books, or Feanor with engineering, or Miriel, who once told him all about sewing for a few hours. It was all shop talk, so he didn't understand it, but it was fun; the argot is something he can't parse in any field other than sailing.

Caranthir tells him things at times, always looking like he's horrified by his lack of education in all matters. It's funny.

Maglor must feel the same way, he thinks, but Maglor doesn't express himself like that.

Feanor still shows up to talk to Maglor and Nelyo. Honestly it makes Earendil value his good [okay but distant, due to his own self] relationship with his own parents even more. Idril and Tuor are lauded, not hated.

... Of course Earendil personally is angry and disgusted that his parents made a child [him] that would necessarily [or at least probably might, and they risked it?!?!?!] die the permanent, mortal way. No one asked him if he wanted to exist only to die in a few quick years, and to see his father die, too. No elf child had to feel that, had to suffer like that. Elves return from death. [Other than Miriel, that must partially explain Feanor's craziness in the past, he thinks.]

Randomly, since he happens to eventually mention to Elrond months later that Thingol seems crazy and/or dead-ish seeming in new Doriath, Elrond goes and tracks him down and heals him. And then eventually Elrond returns to new Rivendell [with Glorfindel in tow] to report that all Thingol does is weep now, after being cured of 'silmaril-sickness'. Or whatever long, complex, instrutable label Elrond would give him/whatever's wrong with him.

"The elves wrote me letters again," Elwing tells him that night, in his house's hammock, together. "They want me to tell them what to do, if they should stay in new Doriath or leave. But what do I have to do with that? They're the weirdos that wanted to live in a city with a god ruling it -- except when it mattered, of course. Then the evil god didn't rule it at all."

Technically the elves write them letters all the time. Lots of them do. They both almost never answer anyone, other than their actual family.

"I never answer the new Gondolin people who write me," Earendil says. He knows that she already knows this.

Even Turgon writes him now, since he doesn't ever go see him anymore. Earendil has little interest in a grandfather he barely remembers -- an elf who helped ruin his life, what with his mishandling of his sister's folly [and evil spawn] and then not taking Ulmo's warning/advice. What an idiot.

Earlier on he'd gone to see him at times, but now Earendil understands he was subconsciously looking for comfort, and Turgon is in his own sad world. Even Earendil's parents won't live with him in new Gondolin; Idril and Tuor are indeed very bright, Earendil thinks.

"I like being me," Elwing tells him, as a pillow. He hugs it, in his hammock, to his chest. "Kinda. But I don't like how the elves write to me. I guess though, even if I were an elf, I'd still be Queen. Just a normal queen, instead one with magic."

"I'm sure Elrond could make them stop writing to you," he suggests, pressing his face into the pillow. It's colored like the sea, all shades of blue.

"But what if they send me a cool seashell in some future?" Elwing counters. "I don't want to miss that. Now that they all sneak around to hear Maglor play, some of the Doriath elves go all over."

Elwing has a whole social life now. He's happy for her.

He's also a little lonely sometimes, but doesn't want to say anything, obviously. So he tells Glorfindel he'll try ranta, the sport, with him.

It's basically like a 'natural' obstacle course race. Legolas and Gimli try it too, and some of the Feanorean elves of Elrond, and it's okay. Everyone is too busy trying to keep up over all the obstacles to bother him or talk to him [not that this group would, but being with lots of elves always makes him a little nervous]. Weirdly, he's pretty good at it, and he's a little pleased ... until he realizes why he's good at it.

It's just like running around his ship, climbing up the masts, doing all sorts of tasks, while sometimes fighting weird monsters. So this is pretty easy comparatively, honestly, since there are no horrible beasts trying to kill him. He waits all the time for everyone else to catch up; though honestly Glorfindel is pretty fast, and so is Gimli.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Elrond asks him afterwards, as he often goes to see the elves after extreme or very intense sporting events, just to make sure everyone is fine and no one needs medical attention.

Then later, back at his house, Maglor comes by and says the exact same thing.

"You did what?" Maglor questions him. "Who got you into that?"

He decides not to give up Glorfindel. ... Maglor will figure out it was him sooner or later, realistically. They are very tight.

"It was okay," Earendil defends, but Maglor gives him a scolding look. He can hear someone creeping up to the window, and turns to see who it is; it's definitely an elf, of course. And probably one of Feanor's sons -- few other elves would have the balls to act like that to Earendil.

"Glorfindel got him into it," Amras whispers, peeking in the window.

Maglor looks appalled upon learning this.

"Being a tattletale is dishonorable," Maglor judges, looking suddenly pointedly away from him in a harsh way. "Get gone."

Amras looks sad, and slinks away. Admittedly it was creepy, but then Amras often is. The sons of Feanor don't seem super 'normal' in general, to be honest, but Earendil attributes that mostly to what Finwe and Feanor led them into at a youngish age.

When Maglor is angry at his own family, he's very much incandescent with rage. "I wanted to show you something at the fish pond," Earendil says, and it works. Maglor seems drawn out of his feelings, and looks at him, confused.

"Why? You mean like fish, or something?" he asks.

"No, it's kind of neat at night, though," Earendil explains.

Maglor agrees to walk down there with him, but unfortunately they can see other elves are out there already -- Finno and Nelyo, and also Elrond and Gil-Galad. So they turn around, since it's crowded already.

It's a lovely place under the light of the moon-tree-light. Whatever the elves are calling the new two trees now. The light reflects on all the ponds at once, and it has an almost magical visual effect.

All this has distracted Maglor at least, which is good. He is rarely super angry unless his family is involved. Then his harshness knows no bounds. It's really weird to see, honestly, because he's never know Maglor like this. The angry Maglor is what he imagines he was like before, during the kinslayings. It's true that he is merciless to Feanor, it seems.

Nolo and Ara even try to be supportive to Feanor after they all figure out that Maglor verbally eviscerates him when they speak. It's strange to see him accept it, since even Earendil knows of the past between these three. None of them dare say anything to Maglor, obviously.

Feanor isn't as scary as one would assume. He's like an excited kid when he talks about his projects -- and like a sad kid when Maglor rips him a new one.

He goes and sits in Earendil's house with him at times, post-Maglor talks. Mostly Feanor is swamped by his step-brothers. Maglor rarely speaks of his father to Earendil, and if he does it's to curse his very name, and more.

Of course Maglor has killed and is dangerous, but seeing him hate his father and be so combative with him is almost upsetting, disconcerting, because Earendil has only seen him love the three of them in real life [him, his wife, his quasi-son slash nebulous relative of some kind, ie Elrond]. He has never actually seen him angry or violent. Until now, with Feanor.

Yeah, Earendil knows history, especially the parts re Maglor and ruining Elwing and his life, and all that. And he knows how Feanor tired Maglor to his horrible fate and cursèd life, literally in all senses. But actually seeing this guy look so traumatized by hearing Maglor be cruel to him is hard to see. Regardless of the past.

It's stupid, but it's almost frightening to think of Maglor being aggressive once more. He knows he has it in him, obviously, but he never acts like that with him or Elwing, or anyone in their circle.

Eventually, he goes to Elrond about it.

Of course he has to catch him at a good time, because Elrond has a packed schedule of apparently reading, doing medical stuff or research, or being over in Gil-Galad's rooms. Or he's out among his Feanorean people doing probably intellectual stuff or something.

He finds Elrond at some weird festival with the Feanorean elves. He doesn't even ask what it's about, they're always doing inexplicable stuff.

There's some elf doing what looks like 'magic' tricks actually -- but it's only elf magic, that is, sleight of hand. It's not cool like Elwing's magic.

Elrond spots him where he is standing far away from the group, and walks over to him, out of the crowd watching the 'magician' elf. Earendil doesn't know that one's name, he can barely keep the important elves' names straight, like Nolo and Ara.

'Father,' he says in osanwe, 'how do you fare?'

'I'm good,' Earendil says. 'I wanted to say something. I guess I think maybe we should stop Feanor from coming here, to see Maglor, I mean. Cause he's really angry at him. And I don't like the idea of Maglor being angry.'

Elrond looks surprised.

'Even if somehow Feanor was dissuaded from coming to our town, I bet you Maglor would seek him out deliberately,' Elrond counters. 'Maglor has a bottomless well of fury for his father. Understandably.'

'But he's just endlessly being made upset by seeing him,' Earendil argues. 'And clearly Feanor is being hurt every time, very much.'

Elrond shrugs, looking pretty nonplussed.

'That's what Feanor reaps, after what he sowed,' he judges. 'He gets Maglor wanting to kill him, but also wanting him alive so he can keep hurting him. I'm on Maglor's side.'

Earendil shakes his head, almost involuntarily. 'But how can you be okay with this? You love Maglor.'

Elrond laughs at him, which is a little sobering, even though it's nice laughter.

He puts a hand on the tree beside them, and leans against it a little. 'Father, he let me do this with you and mother for a long time. He knew it hurt me to try to connect with you both, and he also knew it was part of my healing, to do it anyway. Maglor will never reach any peace with his father unless they live this out. And yes, it's going to take forever. That's how serious it is. With you and me, and mother, it took hardly any time for me to get over my feelings.'

'Can't you tell Maglor how you did it? ... I'm not really sure why you are nice to us now,' Earendil admits.

There was a long period when Elrond wasn't, and he and Elwing remember it vividly. It was so painful.

Elrond smiles at him. 'I just had to get over my own nerves, and fear. Our situation is totally different than his. He knows his father very well, but I had never met you or mother, that I could remember well. I was afraid, and hurt. I didn't know you. But now I do know you both. And I like you.'

'I don't think that's possible,' he says honestly. 'I'm pretty boring. And we're so different.'

Earendil is very aware that he's not a draw, especially compared to his father's happy manner, and his mother's elegant charm.

'I don't need us to be similar,' Elrond explains. 'I like how the three of us are all so unique. I never thought we'd be alike -- Maglor always said you were so courageous and lively, and that's never been me. I'm more sedate, more studious. He still says nice things about you.'

"All he does is lie about me," Earendil says out loud, looking away from Elrond, out at the far trees and waterfalls and peaks. "Where does he find the time. He shouldn't be so nice. If he'd been more netural on me, you wouldn't have been so surprised when you got here. It would have been better if our roles had been switched, and he was the one you met here. He'd be more impressive to meet, all regal and charismatic."

He knows Maglor was a ruler, and then a shadow ruler probably for or with his brother. And Maglor honestly acts like it. There is an aura of kingliness about him, he is extremely captivating. It's not his looks, it's his energy. He has some look that's different, somehow, that speaks to his pure power in music.

It's almost as if he can feel his magical strength, his intangible power, somehow. Earendil isn't used to being near elves, so close, honestly, other than his mom. And then she was gone, so fast, with his father.

"You didn't see him before," Elrond tells him. "When he was ill. He'd have been better off dead."

"I wish we were more like you," Earendil says, and looks back at him. "You seem so ... like a person in the old histories. If you told me you'd lived in Maglor's youth, I would believe it. You just seem to have this gravitas, this big wisdom. Elwing and I are regular kids, and our parents went away. Oh ... I guess yours did too. So I can't say that in front of you. It'll sound rude."

Elrond sits down on the grass, to his surprise. He looks down at him.

"I feel like I'm a regular kid," Elrond informs him ruefully, looking at the grass.

Earendil gets down on the ground and lays down and looks at him, unsure what else to do. Being near Elrond is not easy. It's all questions and no answers.

"Are you joking?" he ventures.

He has to be joking, Elrond has magical power, is famously the best healer, the most well read person, is famous for what he did against the enemy, and all that.

Elrond makes a strange breath of laughter. "No," Elrond confirms. "Ma-- he always made me feel like I was super normal. He said everyone had their own skills, but some were hard to see. So like Miriel was a great artist in one way, Nerdanel was in her way, he was in another way, and I would be in my own way. He said that usually royal blood meant you were a little too into something, and so I should watch out lest I get subsumed in some passion. Of course, that advice didn't work one me re book collecting. ... It's kind of been a relief, of some sort, to see that you're just a regular person. And the same for mother. I wondered how I could possibly measure up to such famous people, in their view."

Yeah, 'their view', he thinks.

Elrond already knew he was enough for Maglor. But he thought his blood parents might not find him to be impressive. It's such a farce. It's all a tragedy, really, he thinks.

"We're very regular," Earendil agrees. "We are too mundane, really. Too honest. We can't stand how the elves act so mannered, it seems put on. We are ourselves, and don't blend in with them."

"Thank goodness," Elrond says, and smiles a little. "I would hate to have to deal with more of that. I do often tire of elves, though that is how they are, it is their culture. But I just escape into my books then. Glorfindel, and Lindir, him too, have always seemed like something a bit more than a mere elf. Somehow. So they have been my great solace."

"It is fun to have another person," Earendil agrees. "Another one like us, of us, here, with us. It was just us two before. And my father, I guess, but he was off being happy with my mom."

Elrond scoots over and leans down on his shoulder and he realizes he's hugging him, in a way.

"Now we are three," Elrond remarks quietly. "Or four, including your father."

Earendil immediately thinks of Elros. Their biggest sin will always be irreparable due to him choosing to die.

He almost admires Elros for having the balls to be like 'ha bye evildoers, some of whom are my own parents'. But it's so sad. At least Maglor is sad too about it, so there's someone he can talk about it with.

Elrond sits up, and looks down at him.

"I am more lucky than other people, to have so many parents," he says. "Finno keeps wanting to get in on it somehow, and he is so goodly and sweet that I don't want to tell him that's crazy. So I don't say anything."

"He does seem nice," Earendil concurs. "He'd be good at it."

"I think I'd get tired of how positive he is," Elrond admits, thinking about it. "Sometimes you just want to be realistic instead, yes? And that's not in his wheelhouse. He's literally incapable of being non ... optimistic. I'm more of a pessimist."

"You know I'm not like you guys," he answers. "Fancy, smart, into parties -- "

"I'm not into parties," Elrond protests, and grabs some grass in his hand and throws it at Earendil, interrupting him. It makes him laugh.

He brushes the torn grass off his shirt and face.

"Maybe I could help the people here build stuff," he continues.

Elrond makes a moue of consideration. "I can inquire with my people, see what they want. They do their own thing, rather. I cannot control their love for their work."

"Have you ever longed for mortal death, despite your choice?" Earendil asks him, rolling onto his side, still down on the grass.

Elrond looks surprised.

"Only in a 'unhappy short moment, caused by mortal blood probably' way, not in a real way, where one would truly desire self-annihilation," Elrond says. "Why?"

"I like the idea of it," Earendil admits. "But I guess you already know that."

It's funny how the nature in new Rivendell is always so beautiful, rarely matching Earendil's moods. There are beautiful sections of trees and vegetation, random exquisite small wildflowers all over, dappled sunshine, soft tall grasses of different varieties.

"I do not begrudge you that," Elrond tells him seriously. "And I also do not take history book accounts before, above, the words of individuals."

"I am sorry," Earendil professes. "I just get tired. Very tired."

Elrond tilts his head and peers at him, in a more clinical way. "Your father doesn't, I've asked him. And I don't, not to this extreme. Mayhap you should try some treatments, from me, like how Miriel has had some. Is it not said that the second life of Luthien and Beren timed out swiftly due to the presence of the silmaril? Maybe it actually does suck, or draw energy from people. That would explain a lot; what do you think?"

Earendil thinks about it.

He has always had a negative response to it, just due to its brightness and the symbolism of it -- his family dead, his life ruined. His conduct shameful. And even Elwing too, abandoned their kids to die. Like he had through inaction, and cowardice [of not trying to get wherever the silmaril was away from where his kids were.]

The silmaril brings only death, he knows.

"I don't know," Earendil finally says. "But I'll try it."

So, it turns out that trying it is super weird. Elrond does only baffling medical things to him. None of it makes sense. Every few days, he calls for him to come stay over in his part of the town, and does whatever it is to him, and then has Earendil rest afterwards, until the next day dawns. Thankfully Elwing and Maglor come snuggle with him in bed there so it isn't so weird and lonely.

Basically Elrond appears to use magic to make the world 'hum' around him lightly, softly, and then puts his hands out in the air and walks a few steps, moving his hands around [still in the air]. It makes no sense. Earendil doesn't know a lot about elf healing or medicine but he's pretty sure this is nuts.

... Though he does feel good, he finds, once in a while, after this. It must be his imagination. Who wouldn't feel good, he thinks, hours after one session, laying under the blankets with him.

The room smells like some sweet but lightly astringent herbal stuff Elrond uses during the medical stuff. And now afterwards, Elwing rests half on top of him, that always feels very soothing, the weight of her. [She can magically change how literally heavy she is in terms of sheer mass, and does, because it's comforting for him to feel the pressure of her being close.] Maglor lays up next to him, on the pillows, with a hand on the side of his neck.

It's funny how his hand is small, super calloused, but soft in a way. He touches the lowest part of the strands of his blonde hair, and his shoulder. It's a nice contrast to Elwing's strong weight on him; she's solid and reassuring, while Maglor strokes his skin and shirt and hair in reoccurring wispy-soft touches.

It's strange how after Elrond's affect on him he feels empty inside -- not a bad empty, a neutral empty. Just still. Like his mind is silent, his feelings are quiet. And then Elwing and Maglor seem to pour their energy into him by touching him.

It's sounds silly, but he thinks it must be true in some way, even metaphorically, in part. Because it feels that way. He can almost feel Elwing's solidarity with him, her sameness, her supportive presence in some inexplicable magical way.

And Maglor seems to be dosing him with carefree, happy feelings of respite and comfort, with his little hand movements against his skin. It's like that are filling up his soul with goodness, recharging him somehow.

The bedsheets are fragrant with Elrond's herbal medicine stuff, and Elwing has her feminine yet magic yet edain-womanly yet with a dash of elfy-ness good aroma, and Maglor has his faint cologne overlaid with his natural male elf scent [it's weaker, he thinks, than the other male elves, which must be due to his previous illness or something, despite the remaking.] All nice smells.

"Oh, the worst thing happened today -- you won't believe it," Maglor tells him, and Earendil can already tell this is going to be something fun and silly, that totally doesn't matter.

The more dramatic Maglor is, the more the issue is negligible. He tries to maintain a straight face as he lays there.

"Glorfindel has somehow gotten the Queen, my grandmother, interested in his insane artwork, and they are supposedly working together on art, now. She thinks it's 'great' I bought up all his pieces over the years. Unbelievable -- and yes, before you ask, she's seen some of them."

Elwing laughs against his chest.

He can feel her mirth magically, somehow, as well as hear it. It feels like warm tiny drops of rain that's not real rain [or wet.] "I hope that was an 'agreeing with me' laugh," Maglor tells her, sounding amused.

Earendil often feels tired after Elrond's medical session, so he is quiet usually as Elwing and Maglor talk.

They discuss it together for a while. Maglor bemoans, "Think of how the elves will speak of Glorfindel, if the Queen turns from her incredible art to make ugly nonsense due to his influence. Well, since it's her, I think she'd be able to even make his hideous style into something appealling, honestly. But still!"

And then in the hypnagogic moments before he rests, Maglor plays for him, singing a very quiet song [with harp] that eases his way into peaceful sleep, and then suddenly it's morning, and he's waking up. Elwing slept too, she tells him with osanwe, she didn't come talk to him in his dreams this time.

Maglor is still in his reverie, he sees, after he blinks awake and notices him right there, his eyes almost shut but not quite.

It's funny how his facial expression looks very sleepy though, unlike with regular elves. When Glorfindel and Idril sleep their eyes are wide open and it's incredible uh, an experience to see. Of course he does kind of not feel totally that way with Idril, since she is his mom after all. But still.

Earendil stays with him until he wakes up; Elwing already talked to him and went out. It seems so wrong for the elves to be alone in their strange fake sleep. They look very vulnerable and childish during it, somehow.

It must be the 'open' eyes. Earendil knows many elves can keep up whatever they're doing and 'reverie' at the same time, but in new Rivendell they all seem to rest at night like he and Elwing [and Elrond] do.

Then Maglor wakes from it, and he lets him get adjusted to being awake, staying quiet.

Eventually he sees that Earendil is right there.

"Hey," Maglor murmurs in a whisper. "How do you feel?"

Earendil hmms. "Pretty good," he tells him. "Let's have breakfast."

So they get up and chat, all like usual.

Then Maglor somehow figures out from a seemingly unrelated, basic conversation that Earendil and Elwing don't actually [still] ever 'order' clothes and other elven goods and services. And he insists they both experience it.

"Your house would be a good place for it," he muses, and grabs his cloak and starts off for Earendil's house, with the partial-elf in question trailing after him, trying to get him to stop and have breakfast first. Maglor moves insanely fast when you least expect it.

"We can eat at your house. Tell Elwing I will have our people bring things to your house for her, too," Maglor adds, and they walk out to his house. "It will be a good experience for you both. This is how royals live. Well, I don't know as much about Doriath, of course. So just Noldor-wise, I mean."

They get to his house after a brief walk, and then Maglor calls elves over and speaks to them at length. Then they leave.

... Earendil stays inside in another room during it. It's not hiding. It just technically appears that he's hiding, one could say. Whatever.

Maglor comes into the area of house where he is, and tells him, "They'll be back. I think Elwing has already done this, assuredly, with the other queens. I hope, that is. Unless Tirion's standards have fallen far; I doubt it, but you never know, after all that time with only the less rash, and bold, and more wiser Noldor here. They must have changed our culture, what with only them here for so long -- before our people began to return, after Mandos."

"Breakfast," Earendil reminds him.

Maglor is already lounging on a little couch, that totally forgotten.

"Oh yes," he agrees. He gets up and goes and calls other elves, orders food and tells them what to do, and then they leave too.

Then he comes back to his couch. Earendil sits in a nearby chair. "They'll be back with a selection for you soon, dear," Maglor assures him.

Earendil isn't exactly the one who needs to eat, seeing as he's a hulk compared to Maglor's single tiny reed, in terms of their bodies.

"And for you," he points out to him, and Maglor makes a disinterested nod and hand wave of agreement.

"What did you think of that passage you were looking at last month?" Maglor asks him.

Elves have loosey-goosey senses of time. They often casually refer to stuff many years before [that Earendil was present for] as if it just happened. Maglor talks about his 'lessons' from any time in the past as if he just first mentioned them.

Earendil isn't like this. He gets stuff done right away. The past is further in the past for him. He knows Elwing experiences time in a non-linear way, but he doesn't know about Elrond. And Elros is dead, forever.

Not a big sample size, really.

"It was okay," Earendil judges. "Let me look at it again. So it's fresher in my mind."

He gets the book out, and Maglor says, "Shall I read it to you? Then you can just think on it."

"Yeah," he agrees, and hands him it.

Reading is not his forte, and Maglor understands why.

Elwing almost can't read at all, since she was ungovernable in Sirion and did no lessons before Earendil came there with his parents -- and then his parents barely made her learn any lessons, so she doesn't know a lot of book learning information. Like much letters and reading.

Maglor reads it out, it's some poetry. The way he reads it, it feels more moving, more like it matters and isn't some empty set of silly words.

Thankfully Earendil is saved from having to give an intellectual [well, an attempt] review of the poesy by the elves bringing food showing up. Maglor goes and deals with them; he stays where he is. It's always easier if Maglor deals with elves instead of him or Elwing. Some elves stop and stare at them; others act weirdly with them. Apparently they 'glow' more than elves, so that must explain the staring. Who knows.

And Elwing has looked less clouded by sadness recently, so her person-form is even more glowy and beautiful -- like Luthien, the elves whisper. It's annoying.

Admittedly Elrond [and Maglor's] Feanorean elves are much less weird, and more nice, they don't bother him. But it's just better all around if he leaves the elves to deal with each other. And doesn't get involved.

"Alright," Maglor calls out to him from the other room, so he comes. "They're gone."

He walks in and sits with Maglor at the table to eat. There are trays with stacks of buttered toast, lots of eggs in different forms/recipes, and also griddle cakes, crispy chicken pieces with sweet tree sap syrup [the elves grow trees for this puropse and harvest it], bowls of cut fruit salad, different fruit crush beverages and other things that are more 'liquidy' that Maglor might have.

The elf in question does try some of the drinks, and even some soft creamy eggs on his own. Without any prompting, even. He still has to eat in tiny spoonfuls, but he actually eats now. Elrond really did kind of 'cure' him or however they'd phrase it.

After Maglor eats, he still rests, typically. It's as if eating makes him tired, which seems odd. But Maglor was sick unto death before, Earendil knows. Truly he was punished far more than any of his family for the sins of Finwe and Feanor -- other than Nelyo. But his living death on the shore probably got him up there close to it.

Earendil remembers when he saw Maglor in real life early on, in Aman, when he looked like a horrid corpse. So different, then. And Elrond and Glorfindel were always there by him, always watching Earendil.

Back then he'd almost wanted to say 'really?'

It had been a greivous wound then, to see how they didn't trust him at all. He was a famous, celebrated hero -- and anathema to his own son.

Even he wouldn't hurt someone already tortured to death, [but still alive for some reason.] He kept quiet though, and just bore the pain in silence from it.

Now they're all nice to him.

Maglor hangs out with him and Elwing all the time, and even sleeps over with them if he thinks they need it, or if they want him to, or for any reason. This must be because Elrond thinks they are good [ ... now]/won't hurt Maglor, for if not he knows he would not allow them to be alone with Maglor, Earendil is sure.

Of course Maglor has power with music, and songs, that he doesn't have, so he might be able to get the edge on him in a theoretical conflict. But Elwing has told Earendil that he too has power, and only uses it unconsciuosly. Elrond must have thought Maglor wouldn't defend himself well, being so ill back in the early days, if anything happened. If his wicked real blood parents tried anything against his 'real emotionally' parent.

"You are eating well," he tells Maglor, who looks over at him. Earendil came to sit by him on the couch where he is still resting after trying some soft dishes. "I am happy for it."

Maglor still looks odd twiceover nowadays -- his short hair [for an elf and a prince], and his lack of black raiment [since Earendil has only ever seen him wear black before his recent allowing of color.]

Maglor smiles at him.

It still feels strange to see him, after having heard his secret prayers to him and the silmaril in the sky for so long, a million years ago. The famous Maglor.

How ironic that it's Maglor that's on his side, after everything. After his mistakes, both of theirs. He feels lucky; Maglor could have gone to Nerdanel or her Feanorean area at least, and lived there. Instead he's been helping him and Elwing work on their learning and making life easier for them. ... And also making things easier with Elrond for them, in a way. It is no secret that Maglor seems to prefer them, to favor them, which must influence Elrond even if just minutely.

Earendil wouldn't want it if it were some type of reparation, but he can tell it's not. Maglor actually does like them.

"You won't be in a minute," Maglor tells him merrily. "For I shall try to get you to pick out some elf-things, and you shall be wearied by it, I am certain. So enjoy your last moments now, before the deluge."

"I think you're exaggerating," Earendil says, amused by his excitement.

So ....

It turns out Maglor was not exaggerating. If anything, he undersold it.

When the elves come again, Earendil goes into another room so they can take the empty trays away without him in the way. And then he stays there because Maglor tells him the other elves have come with goods as he'd told them too. So that takes a while, and then they depart.

"Alright, just think one thing at a time," Maglor says, coming into the other room where he's been waiting/hiding -- hanging out, that sounds better, he thinks.

Then Maglor keeps him there, trying to over-explain things, which means this must be crazy. Finally he gets Maglor to let him see what the elves have done, and he's speechless.

One of the rooms in his house is filled with objects, like piles of them. He stops walking, astonished. It's a wild amount of stuff.

"I'll show you it," Maglor tells him, and drags him to sit in a chair.

Maglor can't actually 'drag' him, his body is too small comparatively. He could probably do it with music [intentional] power, but he doesn't obviously, so Earendil walks after him in a kind of shocked daze.

And indeed, Maglor then shows him each item, explaining why he might want it, or might not want it.

He asks him about his wardrobe, ie what he has currently, and Earendil is forced to admit, "I have no idea. I don't really look in it. I just wear the same stuff all the time and Elwing cleans it magically."

He doesn't really get why the elves need so many different outfits, honestly. They've got a lot of time on their hands, seems to be the problem.

Maglor gives him a quizzical look. "Well, why I don't take refresher look."

So they go up to his closet and he peers at it. Maglor of course already has been in it many times in the past, due to picking out his clothes for fancy events for him.

"Alright," he decides. "None of this works. Let's go back downstairs."

"None?" Earendil asks plaintively, trailing after him on the stairs.

He follows Maglor back into the rooms the elves have filled with objects. Stuff is everywhere. He feels overwhelmed just looking at it.

"Let me show you what I think you should pick," Maglor explains. "We don't want to offend the elves, after all."

He starts taking certain items and setting them aside in a yet another [empty, thankfully] room.

"I don't understand how you guys do this," Earendil admits to him, watching him work. "I have enough stuff. And what do I do with the old things if I get new ones? Just have triple of everything for no reason? None of this stuff is essential. It's just ... fluff."

Maglor picks up a pair of shoes and says, "Try these on. And don't you know, elves are quite into bejeweled flotsam and jetsam." He smiles at him. "Besides, we are expected to give some of our things to others, so it's all natural. When you tire of what you have, you can choose people to give it to."

"Like you and Elrond?" he asks.

He's never done stuff like this, obviously. Reference: his life. He can't give some of it to Elwing, since it was obviously made for men.

Well, actually, Elwing actually does and wears whatever she wants, no matter who it's for, but elves seem to codify things a little big in outfits ... well, except for royalty, which just looks weird and overdone no matter if it's elf kings or elf queens.

"If you wish it," Maglor says, but in a way that means he's puzzled at this idea and that it's not typical for elves. "But that's not usual, just so you know of the ways of the old Noldor. Usually elves of your level would give items to their close friends -- other royals I mean -- and then lesser items to bannermen and even servants."

"But won't Elrond be offended, if I give this stuff away?" he asks.

There're literal mountains of stuff already in his house, and he never touches most of it. Piles of jewelry, heavy ornate clothes, fancy shoes. And books -- way too many. But that went without saying for multiple reasons.

"No, my sweet," Maglor assures him. "He'd probably be pleased to hear that you wanted to pick out some new things. It's expected for royals to do that, to be interested in the creations of the people."

"Alright," he acknowledges.

Maglor has him look through what he thought the might like, from the new giant pile of stuff, and then Earendil approves it.

"Wait ... do I have to put this all away?" he asks. It's a lot of stuff, okay.

"I will do so," Maglor soothes him. "Do not worry about that."

[So during the next few months he looks at his 'older' stuff and decides who to give it to, who might like it. He gives the most outré stuff to Glorfindel, pretty stuff to Elwing [if she wants it] and then his mom, the 'stuff for men' items to his father, and one of the jewelry pieces to Maglor. He can't give Elrond anything really, he knows, just because Elwing says he picked it all out for him. So he gives him one of the 'new' pieces of jewelry, since Maglor had called for it, not Elrond.

And then Maglor and Elrond wear the little jewel pins he gave them on their cloaks, which is weird but also nice, to see. Glorfindel sometimes wears the stuff he gave him too, but since he dresses so 'busy' and over the top, it's hard to tell since it's just one of a zillion items he has on at any given time.]

Eventually he is able to escape Maglor's 'learn how to be a royal elf' lesson in item acquisition, and he rushes out after Maglor says he 'need not suffer longer' with a wink.

Basically, Maglor eventually took pity on him and how much this stuff isn't for him, and also told him that the apple orchard [and the fruit growing group in general] Feanorean elves said he could help build orchard stuff for them if he wanted to. So he goes to where Maglor said they were working.

It's a walk. But that's fine, he likes that.

Finally he gets near the elves at this new orchard spot [to be built, it's empty right now], and one of them waves him over. It's Erestor, which is a relief. He knows him.

Well, not really, but he has spoken to him before many times. So it's not like he doesn't know who anyone is here, now.

"Lord Earendil, come hear our plans for this area, if you wish it," Erestor invites him, so he does. "We are going to try planting some foreign types of apples here -- Cherry Pearmain, Dymock Red, Kingston Black or Black Taunton, Skyrme's Kernel, Strawberry Norman, Argile Grise, Bramtôt, De Boutville, Frèquin Audièvre, Medaille d'Or. That type of thing."

He continues on with the plans for walls and structures in the area. There are piles of raw materials all around, stacked up and waiting to be used.

"Let's get started," Erestor finally declares, and the elves scatter. He stays where he is, watching.

Erestor does too. "Shall you like to be involved? Or to see it done?" he asks.

Earendil shrugs. "I can help build the stone walls, if it's okay with them all."

"Yes," Erestor agrees. "Lord Makalure already spoke to them. Why don't I show you one of the potential wall placements."

He takes him to it, it's pretty simple. "Yeah, I can do this," Earendil decides, after they talk about how the stacked stone should look, and he trials some so Erestor can comment on it.

"I leave you to it," Erestor says definitely. "I will be over under that tree yonder, looking over other things if you wish to speak with me."

He nods, and Erestor goes off.

So he builds the wall. It's pretty satisfying, how it empties your mind and is repetitive, but always a bit different. Then he looks over to see how the elves are coming with their parts of it and finds they've done not much compared to him. Some of them are actually doing double takes at his wall.

He forgot that for a second, how he's stronger than them. They need multiple people to pick up these huge stones; he doesn't. It's easy for Earendil. He walks over to them, tentatively. Really, he'd love to go hide behind his wall, but that wouldn't be nice.

He gets closer and some of them approach him, realizing he wants to talk to them.

"Lord?" one questions, looking to him.

This one's short, like most elves are. Very few elves are tall.

"Do you want me to make your stone walls too?" he asks this one. Then he pauses, unsure how to say 'cause it's easy for me and I'm much stronger than any of you' politely.

"If you wish it, Lord," another one of them says. "But we can do it for you, if you desire."

"I don't mind doing it," Earendil explains. "This is easier for me than to do stuff Elrond does. Or Maglor. Maybe someday I can get out of fancy parties with this type of excuse."

The elves goggle at him. Some smile and try not to.

"I'll get started," Earendil continues, since none of them say more. "And make the rest of them. I guess you should go do whatever it is you do. ... I don't really know what elves do, I guess. You seem busy."

Some of them smile, and they agree, and bow and go to a different area and start working on something else. It's still right there in this potential orchard space, it's just a bit to the side of where Earendil is working.

He builds all the walls in short order, it's easy. The elves are now busy planting things. He's no good at that, so he goes over to Erestor, who looks up at him from his papers, and Earendil tells him, "I'm going now. Since the walls are done."

"I understand, Lord," Erestor tells him easily, so he nods, and leaves.

He decides to go visit his parents, spur of the moment, and heads off that way. Elrond's people let him borrow a horse. He tells Elwing with osanwe, and she hears him.

The elves who serve them greet him excitedly, and bring him in to where his parents are reading together.

"How are you?" his mother asks him, rising and hugging him.

"I'm good," Earendil acknowledges. His father comes to him as well, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"What have you been up to?" Tuor asks him. "Come and have tea with us. How are the waterfall lands?"

Earendil sits down with them and elves bring them tea and what goes with it.

"Everything's good. It's the same there," he reports.

"It was so lovely last time we visited," Idril tells him, and Tuor launches into an enthusiastic discussion of all the cool stuff there, as she agrees and interjects at points.

He listens.

"You must love it there," Tuor tells him. "And Elrond is such a great child."

"Yes," he agrees, looking down at the little teacup he's holding. "He is a great king. And his city is very refreshing. I like it more than the elven cities -- the weird overbuilt ones and the weird underbuilt ones."

His mother smiles at him, when he looks up.

"Yes," she says, "it is quite an improvement on Noldor design. I have not seen that of the 'other' elves, so I could not comment on their dwellings."

The word 'other' is the way classy elves who are high [Valmar or Noldor etc] politely refer to and talk about the 'lower' elves who did not learn from the valar in Aman early on.

"It must be his great bloodlines, to have such a distinct, and incredible vision for a city," his father says, praising Elrond. "How lucky I am, to have not just a great son, and an amazing daughter-in-law, but for our grandchild to be so outstanding a person."

"Yes," Idril agrees, and his father and mother smile at each other.

" ... Yeah," he agrees, as they stare into each others eyes as if they just met and are in young love. "Elrond is impressive. And nice. Elwing likes him too."

It is kind of sad, he thinks, that they've all had to get to know each other. But really he has to do that with Idril and Tuor as well. He's been apart from them for so long, first physically and then while he was sailing in the sky.

"Of course she does," Tuor says, half appalled and half confused. "She's his mother."

That's no guarantee, Earendil thinks.

He can easily see a scenario, a timeline where Elrond and Elwing never grew closer at all. Ever. Hell, half of their early meetings were probably due to Maglor saying he was pro-them to Elrond. He and Elwing have discussed it before, the reality that Maglor helped soften Elrond's heart towards them over time.

He has never spoken of Elros to Idril or Tuor. Of course, maybe this topic feels differently for Tuor, he thinks, given that Tuor's mother is dead forever, unlike all the family's around him. Even Feanor has his mother back.

"Yes," he finally agrees.

"How is Elwing?" Idril asks him. "She seemed well last week when she flew over to see us."

Elwing hangs out with loads of people all the time now; he is happy for her. Earendil doesn't have enough energy to do that.

Chapter Text

"She's good," Earendil agrees.

He hangs out with his mom and dad for a while. He's recently begun to feel bad about rarely seeing them. Even Glorfindel is off with Maglor to see his parents often, who now live in new Rivendell. They are nice people, and even start acting more normal with Earendil, as time passes.

Elrond obviously bothers to try to spend time with him and Elwing. Similarly, Idril constantly talks to her own mother Elenwë, after never having known her for so long. [Idril has told him that Elenwë is bamboozled by the idea of her child having married a famous and mortal hero [Tuor], and having an infamous child [Earendil], and then him having a kid with a super amazing part-maian woman, and their magic-y kid being awesome [Elrond.]

Even Maglor, who passionately hates Feanor still, nonetheless allows his father to come speak to him ... though that might not count like the other examples, since he seems to be aggressively into telling him that he fantasizes about setting him on fire. Anyway.

Technically that counts as quality family time for Feanor's family, he thinks, unsure.

"I've been ... good," he adds. It almost feels weird to feel good, to be honest.

Tuor takes his hand. "We are glad," his father tells him seriously. "For so long, we have wished for your happiness."

Idril nods.

He nods tentatively, feeling a little awkward.

"Elwing says you and Elrond and her love Makalaure," his mother says. "Is it true? He is so ... intimidating. Though Elrond too seems very powerful and mysterious."

She and Tuor don't really know him, of course. They only see Maglor when there's a chaperone, like Elrond or Glorfindel. They only know of his infamous, horrific deeds, not all the other things he's done.

It's kind of laughable in a way to think of Maglor as intimidating. But he knows he could be. He's just choosing to be peaceable.

It's funny, but he does feel safe with him in that sense -- that if they were attacked Maglor has a lot of power he could use. After all, they, and he, did succeed in loads of kinslayings. A reformed dangerous murderer being on your side and caring for you, knowing they'd protect you, does feel good. Elwing has said the same thing, despite that it was baby her in Doriath and a tiny bit older her in Sirion that he committed most of the crimes against.

'If you can get your enemy on your side, you're unassailable,' she told Earendil once. 'So we're good, now. We can relax. Even if evil rises again, he will be with us, and so will be many other of our old enemies.'

"He's not, but Elrond is," Earendil opines.

Elrond often still looks calmly at him and Elwing and it feels like he can see all their flaws and sins. Maglor looks at them more gently, more forgiving-ly, for he too is a sinner. Elrond is pure, so he simply cannot relate to, or have compassion for having fucked up on such a nuclear level.

"Elrond is ... somebody successful. We're normal people," he continues. "Maglor is special, though, too. But he's more like us. Elrond is more, well, 'perfect', like you two. So it's harder to connect with him."

Then he hears what he just said out loud, and looks up at his parents. He then has to sit there and listen to them protest this for a while.

Idril insists she's a fool because she didn't get the three of them out of Gondolin earlier, despite Turgon rejecting Ulmo's warning, and Tuor says it was his responsibility to protect them both, and that he should have gone against Turgon and had the three of them sneak out.

"You're both crazy," Earendil informs them frankly, when they stop talking. "It's Turgon's fault. I love that everyone hates his guts now. It's very satisfying."

His parents both look a little shocked, but smile; he knows they feel that way too.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go back home now. I'm sure they're all up to something. They've all got a lot of energy," Earendil decides, and his parents agree. They say goodbye and Earendil heads out.

Back at home, he finds everyone obsessively gambling with candy. It's some off shoot of some elf holiday or something. As Earendil walks through town, he notices the different levels of elves gambling against each other. So of course he finds Elrond's group in his study, all playing against each other. Elf society is starkly divided by rank. Royals play with royals, artisans with artisans, shepherds with shepherds, dish washers with dish washers.

Glorfindel sees him first as he peeks in the the open doorway, and smiles at him. "I'm winning," he crows to him.

Then all the rest of the elves [and Elrond, and Elwing, but they had already touched souls as soon as he got back to the settlement] look up and see him. "Shall you come sit and play?" Maglor asks him.

"Indeed father, try it," Elrond agrees. "We need everyone we can get to try to take down Glorfindel."

Glorfindel cackles happily.

He comes over and sits in between Maglor and Elwing, who make room for him; Maglor was leaning on a pillow that was between him and her, and puts it on his lap to make room for Earendil.

It actually takes Elwing sitting on his lap for there to be enough room.

He likes the feeling of it, of Elwing on top of his legs, and Maglor leaning against his shoulder.

They show Earendil which games they are playing. Maglor is very bad at them all, Finno is worse, Nelyo is average, and Elwing is bad because, as she explains, 'they banned me from using my natural sense of magic. So I have to play like an elf, so I'm losing.'

Glorfindel is amazing at the games, and finally he and Maglor get up to go play with his parents, and Elrond goes over to play with Gil-Galad. Elwing stops Glorfindel, saying, "Can't we have my mother come too? And also us."

"Of course," he agrees easily.

"Can we come?" Finno asks him, and he agrees again. [Glorfindel's parents are always excited to see anyone he is friends with, and/or famous people, and they've already seen Finno and Nelyo many times, and Maglor too.]

So they all go over to Glorfindel's parents' house, which is quite large and fancy. They are both excited to see everyone, and Maglor goes to call for some light refreshments to be delivered. But when the food comes, there's some real, substantial food too. Earendil is grateful; he definitely did that just for him. Elves often seem to have no taste for real, hearty food. Only sometimes do they eat like that, as far as he can tell.

Earendil eats while the elves obsessively gamble with more candy. Elwing gives up on playing and later Earendil gives it a try again. He's not great at it.

They all seem to enjoy it very much. Earendil doesn't quite get the appeal.

A few days later Maglor is over at his house, with him and Elwing. She likes for him to work on Quenya with her, so they do that for a while, and then she asks him questions about history. Not about the big events or something, but about weird, little things.

"Why was Finwe chosen to be king of you guys?" she begins. "And why didn't you all want to live by the ocean like Olwe? The shore is pretty cool. Also, all the big buildings seem like a bit much when elves can live outside mostly easily."

Maglor smiles, leaning back on the couch and looking up at her on the ceiling [she's a bunch of lightly glowing stars.]

"I think we're just really ostentatious," he offers. "We like making stuff, so we went overboard there. I do think the shore is nice, but it now makes me think of bad things."

"Really?" Earendil asks him. He's never acted like that when at his ship with him. He's been watching for it, worried he'd react to multiple shore-related traumas.

"Yes," Maglor says, looking over at him, already close. Earendil's holding him on the couch. Elwing knows he sometimes feels he needs to be physically close to him, and be held in return by him, and doesn't mind.

It's not romantic, and Maglor isn't womanly or something, but it comforts him. It makes his sadness lighter, and it makes him feel calmer, somehow.

He has to be very careful, of course, because Maglor is weak, not magically strong like Elwing. He touches him extremely gently. Maglor seems to like it all, and Elwing assured him that Glorfindel doesn't mind; he apparently thinks it's cute and also expected that Maglor would try to 'mother' close blood relatives of Elrond, given his past track record with being up close to Elrond-looking people ... and also stealing them and keeping them and loving them, despite it being totally nuts for the circumstance.

"I don't want you to go to the shore if you don't like it there," Earendil tells him.

Maglor laughs. "My dear, I don't like a lot of things. I didn't want to come to Aman. Yet here I am, across the sea. I didn't want to ever leave new Rivendell, but I have traveled."

"I don't want you to do it if you don't like it," Earendil insists.

Maglor shifts and rests his head on Earendil's shoulder; Earendil holds him there against his body delicately. "It's not so bad, when you all are there with me."

"Elrond doesn't like the shore either," Elwing contributes. They both look up at her-as-stars.

"Well, we were both afraid to arrive here, at first," Maglor explains. "For very different reasons. It is only in our town here that we both probably feel the best -- and the safest, for me."

"I wish everyone could move past the past," Earendil says, mourning a little how they are all on different sides in that now ancient conflict.

Maglor makes a dry 'tchah' sound from where he's resting against his shoulder and chest. "Elves have long memories, my sweet. I think it's part of the definition of our race that we don't move on. That is for the other beings."

Earendil and Elwing look at each other [yes, even though she's 'stars' body-wise still.] He can feel how she agrees with him, that they both feel lucky to have some mortal blood, and be more innately, instinctively focused on the here and now, instead of living kind of parallel to time, outside of it a bit, like the elves often seem to.

Even Elwing is over what happened so long ago. It's just sad to see Maglor not ever get to the 'yeah it was a mistake, I'm repentent, eventually we move on together' part. Elrond too almost appears to have forgiven them [read: his blood parents], and if that can happen, anything can happen.

"It's alright," Maglor tells him, petting Earendil's collarbone with his little hand. "I knew what we were doing, so long ago. I knew my father had gone off the deep end -- we just didn't want him to die alone. He was so ... damaged, by his life. We wanted him to feel supported during all those extra tragedies, that he could not bear. It was partially a way to keep him from suicide. We understood we were throwing our lives away. It was okay, because we'd all be together; mostly with Nelyo for me, of course. Isn't it funny, all this time later, to think of how my father didn't deserve any of that?"

He squeezes him a little, his hands on Maglor's back, and kisses his hair.

"Truly all our forebearers have condemned us to tragedy only," Elwing agrees-as-stars. She [her stars] floats over to them and lays the stars on top of them.

Maglor kind of laughs when some stars touch him, saying, "It tickles, is that you?"

"Yes," Elwing agrees. "It doesn't tickle Earendil."

"Yeah," he says, backing her up.

"How strange the elves' reactions are," Maglor muses quietly. He even talks like one of them sometimes, talking like elves are the 'other', instead of them.

Elrond has told Earendil before when he mentioned this that Maglor had simply spent so much time with him [twiceover], that he must have gotten used to phrasing things that way, unconsciously carrying on how he'd spoken when the boys were young, to make sure they felt 'normal' and non-unusual [despite basically being the most unique beings to ever live, potentially.]

Maglor scoots back, putting his hands on Earendil's arms to help himself move. He looks at one of the floating stars, which Elwing backed off his skin after that unexpected 'irritant to elves' side effect of it.

"I suppose it is well that I cannot be something else," Maglor tells her stars. "For I should choose I think to be some forgotten music paper, that decays over time."

"That's stupid," Elwing tells him, as blunt as usual. "Glorfindel would miss you. And who would I complain about elves to?"

Maglor looks amused. "God forbid," he agrees.

"Do you know I've been to see the other, new, continents?" Elwing asks him.

Maglor is interested, and she tells him about the latest stuff going on. Earendil already knows all this. She sometimes flies around the world to see everything -- and spies on the elves who went over to the 'new' world.

"They haven't built anything cool yet," Elwing adds, after going over everything else she's seen over there [animals, ecosystems, cool mountains, etc.] "The elves, I mean."

The dwarves are said to mostly wish to live where they do in Aman, near Aule. So far Gimli is the only one to live with the elves over his people [special circumstance there, though], and Tylpe is the only elf to leave the elves to live in the halls of the dwarves.

How sad that he tried to be like Elrond, Earendil thinks, with his destroyed city over in middle earth. But he trusted the Ainur, and Elrond doesn't. It's ironic, and almost sad, how Elrond learned the truly right, crucial one of the Feanorean lessons re the demi-gods -- and Tylpe didn't, who was of Curvo's blood. So who's the 'real', in spirit, grandchild of Feanor, one almost thinks, at that point, since both had already rejected the mission of murder/silmaril obtaining.

"Maybe I should visit Mandos," Maglor suddenly says. "Elrond is talking about it. We could go with Glorfindel. I don't know if I can get over my fear of it, though. Of being in their clutches."

"I don't think you need to be afraid," Elwing tells him, as Earendil goggles privately at the idea of all this. "They fear Elrond -- and they know all the elves are behind him, if he tried to do something. Not just his people-of-Feanor, but the other elves too. And then they'd have to deal with me, and Earendil. They don't want to, especially now."

Maglor shrug-nods, and looks to the side, clearly still unconvinced.

"We could stay with you," Earendil offers. "I mean your body. That way we'd be on the mind of the powers constantly, that we were watching."

"I wonder if it will create true healing in us; I feel uncertain, but if it will, I want Elrond to experience it," Maglor admits.

It takes a long time to convince them, but eventually, they do go to Mandos. Glorfindel goes too, with Elrond and Maglor, just kind of for 'safety', and to make it more of a threat to the powers if they try anything against Maglor.

So Earendil and Elwing camp out in Lorien.

Nelyo has an immediate quiet emotional breakdown about his brother being temporarily 'gone' into Mandos, pretty much the second he 'is dead but not but is', and lays beside his unreactive body around the clock, with Finno beside him, trying to calm him. Galadriel comes too, and Gil-Galad. The ainur and valar seem very discomfited by everyone's presence en masse.

Good.

Feanor comes too, with Nerdanel and Miriel, but gets so upset he has to keep leaving, and then tries again, over and over.

Glorfindel and Elrond wake up extremely fast.

He and Elwing ask Elrond what it was like, as Glorfindel goes to sit on the other side of Maglor's insensate body. "It was like sleeping deeply, that's all," Elrond tells them. "It was alright. Perhaps that's because I am no elf, or something. I don't know."

They don't ask Glorfindel, who's been there already obviously. He's busy watching Maglor's body and cutting his hair ... despite it not really technically growing much. It's clearly just a distraction to soothe Glorfindel.

Finally, no one is able to bear how upset Nelyo is, and Elrond talks to everyone but him and Finno about artifically waking Maglor up.

"It's not like we can't do this again, if Maglor wants to return to Mandos, but I don't want Nelyo to be damaged by this," Elrond says. "I feel totally certain that he would not wish to linger in Mandos if it were causing Nelyo pain. That is no question to me."

Galadriel agrees, and so does everyone else.

It's creepy, to see Maglor dead. His body just lays there, with his eyes shut, instead of being open for reverie. He looks natural to Earendil in the sleep sense, but there is a 'frozen' look to him, like there's something wrong. It feels uncomfortable.

Sometimes he sits by his body and touches his hair a little. Not too much, because Nelyo [and then Glorfindel too] are already there. Even Elrond lingers near his body, just touching one of his hands.

They all understand that; Maglor is his true father and mother in one person, really. That is a bond that cannot be broken.

Well, it was creepy to see Elrond and Glorfindel that way too; it just made him think of Elrond being mortal-dead like Elros, and Glorfindel being Mandos-dead after the balrog, and Maglor Mandos-style dying on the shore [but for real, this time.]

So Elrond goes to the valar and asks them to return Maglor to his body, which they agree to, and actually hurry to do. It's almost funny, how they don't want to take chances with a descendant of Luthien in either Elwing or Elrond, or even Earendil, who is standing behind them.

And then Maglor wakes up.

Finno fusses over him, as they all watch. He looks very tired. They leave then, everyone else does, in order to give Nelyo privacy, and even Elrond too.

And after a little bit Maglor is back at home in new Rivendell. Nelyo [and Finno, of course] stays beside him now constantly. Despite this, Maglor goes about his routine, just with them in tow, even when it's strange -- he still plays for Nimloth, goes to Earendil's house for their lessons [Finno can't help himself and keeps giving Elwing and Earendil hints and answers, as Maglor scolds him affectionately, and Nelyo almost looks faintly amused.]

No one says anything about this, of course.

It takes a long time before Nelyo can bear to leave Maglor's side; Maglor often puts a hand on his arm, and Earendil wonders why he doesn't just take his hand at times before realizing that he is not ever going to clasp either of Nelyo's hands -- one was burnt horrifically by the silmaril before the remaking, and the other was cut off back then by Finno in order to rescue him from Morgoth.

It's a wonder he didn't kill himself sooner, he thinks. And with the curse upon him too, back then.

They all try to seamlessly never acknowledge this is all weird/different, and in time Nelyo apparently feels better. Feanor and Nerdanel, and Miriel too, come to see Maglor -- but since that audience must be before Nelyo too, none of them say what they would have, not wanting to upset him in any way.

Finally, things go back to normal and they all go to the usual games and festivals of the Feanoreans [and other cultures -- Elrond has all the holidays of his bloodlines celebrated in new Rivendell.] Tuor and Idril of course come up for the mannish ones that Elrond always had held in honor of Tuor. [His father is extremely delighted by all this, especially since himself knew little of his own culture before Elrond presented him with many books on it, Tuor having lived mostly with elves and having such a terrible early life.]

"I feel good, to think those monsters fear us," Earendil tells Elwing one afternoon at a festival in town.

Elrond often goes to the fêtes in a 'public' or official way with Gil-Galad, which lends their approval and protection of all types of celebrations -- no matter which elf culture they stem from.

At times he invites the rest of them to accompany him, and so Earendil finds himself at one of the events. Nelyo still doesn't often hang about in crowds in public, so Finno typically has the Feanoreans bring them a selection of things to their house to see, try, eat, purchase, etc.

Maglor now sometimes goes, and Elwing and Earendil go with him, seeing as he's their buffer with the elves, and also it's just fun to do it with him.

Some elves involved recognize Earendil from his walks, and offer him things, like they do when he's out and sees them. He just shakes his head, because it feels different when there're a crowd of elves everywhere, all around. When he's on his walks there's no one there; it's peaceful and quiet, and maybe one elf pops up and asks if he wants a piece of flatbread or something in the distance. It's more tolerable then.

This is too public.

There are elves from Galadriel's town and Thranduil's here too, because often Elrond wishes to have them write down essays for him on their specialties or on what they're an expert at, so often the town hosts these foreign elves.

Elves from both areas are careful not to react to or look at Elwing overlong, having been briefed by their rulers and also by Elrond about he doesn't want his mother burdened any more than she always will be by being 'different' and being 'famous'.

"We should eat something," he reminds Maglor, who says 'uh huh' distractedly, and is currently looking at the new harps the instrument builders have created -- as if he needs more harps.

But maybe it's just to be nice to them, because those elves look excited by it and pleased. Surely Maglor doesn't need more harps, right? .... Right, yeah.

Right.

At least he gave some away before. He looks mightily interested in one particular one though, and Earendil tells him, yes in front of the elves, "Please tell me you're not going to buy a zillion more harps and fill up that music room. There will be no room to walk in it."

"I can keep some here," Maglor argues, and then looks up at him, and laughs, realizing he's teasing him, it was a joke. "Fine, you're right. Someone without a harp should have this."

He relunctantly sets the harp back down, and says, amused, to an elf at the table, "Though honestly, I don't see why I don't need a thousand of them. Everyone else thinks their collections are okay. Mine though, are in question."

He walks off, and the two of them follow him. The elves look very amused, and smile at Earendil too.

They walk past tables with ceramic art and also usable pretty items, ones with different kinds of textile art [quilts, tapestries], ones with clothes, accessories, shoes. There are many booths with jewelry ["Very Noldor to have this many tables of it," Maglor comments on them], often separated by either the creator's style or the type of item -- like tables only of brooches, or necklaces, or rings.

There are tables of bows and arrows, and jeweled decorative swords [ ... sure, just decor, uh, right? he thinks], and the food tables are his favorite to see.

Towers of fancy confections and cakes and sweets. They are swarmed with elves. Elrond, Maglor told him earlier, literally hands out money [out of his own insanely huge fortune] to all the elves in new Rivendell [both kinds, Feanorean and otherwise] to spend on things like this.

Many tables have little plants in jugs, for people to buy and keep in their own rooms, and also cut flowers for vases.

There are also tables of super fancy socks, a concept Earendil can't really get behind or understand. Also on offer are very complex looking wax candles, and many tiny bottles of perfumes.

Maglor explained to them beforehand in private that as royals they aren't expected to purchase things, just take them, but since they can order anything anytime, royals rarely obtain goods from these types of affairs. "Unless you're Finno, in which case you do whatever the hell you want and don't seem to notice it's unusual," he'd added, amused.

There's pretty stationary at one booth, and nice pens at another. It goes without saying there are many tables of books, and yes, Elrond is already there for most of the day looking at them. Many other elves do too beside him, because he always asks them to and wishes openly for all people to enjoy books alongside him [as opposed to him getting the whole area to himself, like a typical royal would.]

"Only Elrond has a collection," Elwing protests to Maglor as they walk past different booths of goods. "We don't."

Maglor waves a hand in a non-elven way. "You both absolutely do. Did I not catch you trying to dump some gowns out in your shed to go make more room for seashells inside your house? I declare, it almost seems possible for an ocean to spontaneously emerge from that many shells in one place."

"It's not that many," Elwing protests immediately.

It is that many. Earendil doesn't say anything, wanting to be supportive of her shell addiction.

"And do you really need a room full of letters?" Maglor jokes with Earendil, who pauses.

He'd never thought of it that way. He's super minimalist. But he kept all the letters people have sent him, even elves. He 'gets rid of them' by putting them in his 'letter' room, in his house. It's got a lot of rooms, and he's not got a lot of [truly, non-Elrond supplied] personal items, so it's no trouble to fill one with them.

He does also keep all the gifts Elrond and everyone has given him -- so little pretty jewels from Maglor, books [surprise] from Elrond, shells from Elwing, fancy royal gifts from Gil-Galad, stuff from his parents, things from Feanor and Nerdanel, outré stuff from Glorfindel. Random royal stuff from Fingolfin and Finwe. Some textile work from Miriel.

"I guess, it made me feel ... like I exist," Earendil says slowly, thinking it through himself for the first time.

Maglor turns back to him and puts a hand on his upper arm. "My love, I am only jesting," he tells him seriously. "For how could I speak, what with my endless paper and ink for scores, all the energy and goods spent before on keeping me, trying to rather, warm, and my thousand harps."

Earendil nods, understanding. He knows Maglor didn't mean anything by it.

"I mean I did get rid of some, which I feel deserves applause," Maglor adds slyly, with a little smile, and he laughs for a second softly at his impish, little boy-type look. "But let us go eat."

They follow him to the royal tent, which is where Elrond and Gil-Galad also hang out with attendant servants at big events -- Elrond doesn't like the feeling of being in the sun extensively, so he stays in the shade. Earendil doesn't really mind it -- it must be his bigger quantity of mortal blood that creates the difference, he thinks.

Maglor sits with them in some chairs there, and orders an elf to bring them victuals, giving him some coins from a little bag of gold he had on his belt. They talk about what they saw at the festival so far.

The elves bring soups too, not just normal food, so they must want to help Maglor eat, unobstrusively.

They sup together; the servants, all Feanorean elves, studiously try not to gaze enthralled at Elwing, he can tell, which is nice of them. She looks very radiant and more sparklingly gorgeous-er now, because she is happier -- like Luthien, the elves think loudly now constantly, she's told him.

Even Celegorm has asked her to slap him when he gets caught up in staring at her just instinctively due to her now increased hotness [he doesn't want to be disloyal to Orome, but even he's not dead.]

Mostly though Celegorm still seems to like Elrond, which grosses out and also weirds out literally every single elf that knows about it. [And the hobbit ringbearers and Gimli looked horrified too.] Even Celegorm himself says he feels like it's strange, but he still feels it.

Sometimes Celegorm actually is over at Nelyo's house at home now, to bring him and Finno rare animals he hunted, to eat and also after that to give to the artisans to use to make into fine goods.

Caranthir is actually thrilled by this, once telling Earendil that, "Finally, I'm not the only problem -- and his thing is strange and emotional, whereas my offensiveness is mostly, kind of, in the past. And anyway, it's just words. I couldn't be more happy."

[Maglor has actually started having Caranthir dictate letters for him to the rest of his family when needed, which he is very obviously excited about. Of course the rest of them [other than Nelyo] get angry that he's apparently 'forgiven' Caranthir faster than them all, so he has Caranthir write them on his behalf saying he needed a secretary. And they should be wary to throw the first stone, for they are all made of glass, metaphorically.]

Elwing thinks the Celegorm situation is due to how, "Orome is male, so a 'male Luthien' is the highest potential lure for him; a being potentially more entrancing than his god, but still male like Orome. Though that means something different to the ainur."

Due to this, Elrond and Maglor make sure Celegorm is never near Elrond, as much as they can help it.

"I'm not interested in him," Elrond told Earendil during an afternoon past, amused, "but I am sorry for him, and proud of his honesty, in this. For he is the only one who is not lying by omission about how the elves, and probably the ainur and more, all desired Luthien -- and therefore have looked at me, and now look longingly at mother's recently enhanced beauty. None other will admit it. But all craved to be close to the radiance and great higher spirit of Luthien, and desire it now in mother's guise. How amusing it is to see Celegorm be the only honest being in Arda remade."

Maglor actually eats, just really slowly, so it takes forever. That's okay with them two; he can feel Elwing's feeling of agreement magically.

Gil-Galad and Elrond show up in time; apparently he used a crowbar to peel him off the book section eventually.

They call for food, and offer to speak with them if they wish, so they hang out for a while. And then eventually Maglor goes off to check on his brother, after Glorfindel shows up with a bag of insane looking stuff, who goes with him.

Maglor gave him and Elwing both little purses of gold to use to buy things if they wished, so Elwing goes off to buy presents for her Queen friends, and Earendil goes too, just so he doesn't have to awkwardly be a third wheel with his son/friend more accurately, and Gil-Galad.

Then Elwing is done, and vanishes, to go drop the stuff off at her friends' houses -- she leaves a seashell on top of the items so they know it's from her, instead of leaving a note, since her penmenship is still so bad.

Earendil goes on a walk.

After he does a tour of the entire settlement, he goes and sees Caranthir in the library, in the room reserved for him.

The guy seems to go between Valmar and new Rivendell and Nerdanel's house, now. He is fun to talk to, especially when he reveals he's seeing Indis' first child with Finwe -- the daughter.

"So yes, she's my step-aunt," Caranthir dismisses before he even says anything, pointing a finger at him; elves would say that is rude. Earendil almost laughs at how he's so plucky and so utterly non-impressive at the same time. "I don't care. We live forever, it's silly to act like that matters. Also, most importantly, she is just as rude as me, but she just never tells anyone else what she thinks, and never speaks to other people anyway. So it's perfect. And no, Indis doesn't care, we asked her. We didn't tell Finwe or my father because they're all garbage anyway. Mother said she didn't mind, as long as we were good to each other and obviously didn't have kids, which is fine because we both think we'd be bad parents, and also she is going to claim plausible deniability if father finds out."

Earendil shrugs.

He can't really judge, because he got lucky. He and Elwing are almost magically destined to be together, so no other love story will ever measure up, except maybe Finno and Nelyo, or Luthien and Beren. Or Tuor and Idril.

"I don't know a lot about all those elves, like your lady," Earendil explains. "I know the big names, but that's it."

Caranthir looks appalled.

"I am certain you've heard the old, basic histories, I'm the one who explained some of them to you," he declares, horrified.

Earendil smiles, amused at his dramatics. "I don't have a good memory for this stuff. It's not like it's important -- surviving, sailing, is. Remembering the names of random elves I'll never talk to isn't."

"Well, I'm sure she'd say hello to you," Caranthir offers. "She, like everyone, is impressed by you and your wife. And Lord Elrond. She meets me in Valmar, she half lives there, and half in Tirion."

They talk for a little. It's nice to hear that he's not just stuck on the dead mortal lady he liked before in middle Earth.

Earendil says he'll ask Maglor for him re getting an invite to new Rivendell for his lady, and then later tells Maglor what he learned when they're alone together in his house for his 'lesson'.

Maglor sits there staring at him for a while in shock, since he recognizes who the lady is, from Earendil listing her parents/birth order etc.

Finally he shakes his head, looking out of it. "Well, Finno just skyrocketed up the list of most/least appropriate partners for a son of Feanor. He's practically gaining on Glorfindel, at this rate."

"What's wrong with Glorfindel? They wanted you to have kids with a lady?" Earendil asks.

They've skipped the preliminaries today and gone right to Maglor embracing him on the couch, under a blanket. Earendil lays half against his chest, by scooting down on the couch, but carefully, so as not to be too heavy for him.

"Oh, no," Maglor tells him, stroking his hair. "Everyone is aware, including me, that I'd be a terrible husband or parent. I'm too obsessed with music -- my father is the same with smithing, and Celegorm with being outside and hunting. Besides, I'm always concerned about Nelyo above all others. It's more that Glorfindel is one of Fingolfin's people through Turgon, neither of which my group likes very well."

"But you raised the boys," Earendil points out, puzzled by these statements.

Maglor shakes his head. "Our enemies say I coveted them to trade for the stone, or kept them because they glowed with their own power. And our people say I'd gone off my rocker and obsessed over the only good thing in our lives then. Despite the awkwardness of who they actually were."

"Those things don't seem true," Earendil comments, appalled.

Elrond would have never done all that he did for a mere captor, or crazy enemy. God, Glorfindel said he helped Elrond cure Maglor for hundreds of years, and looked for him endlessly before that, and got the valar to pardon him and let him come to Aman. He basically probably couldn't be a better parent, at this rate.

"Well, their amazingness didn't hurt, I'm sure," Maglor shrugs. "They were the only bright spot, then. For some positiveness to come out of it all; it gave me life, energy again. It was difficult, back then. That must sound ironic."

Earendil pauses.

He doesn't want to ask the obvious question, which is how extremely did the oath curse torture Maglor [and Nelyo before his death] until Earendil and Elrond lifted it together. No one knows what it's like to be cursed except for Feanor and his sons, and they obviously don't talk about it to anyone, he assumes.

He can't imagine telling Elrond to curse himself -- and Elrond wouldn't anyway, no matter what he said. Even if Maglor asked it of him, as a more 'real' father, Elrond wouldn't then either, he's sure.

"I don't like to think of everyone suffering," he finally says.

Maglor shrugs.

"It's rather perfect, isn't it," he says bitterly, "that mine own sire punished me far more than any other mere elf could try to. I always thought that was funny, when I came back here to Aman at first, how some elves wanted to hurt or humiliate me, kill me. Of course I understood, but it's rather amusing. As if what an elf could dream up could possibly compare to what we went through. I have you to thank, I know, since you and Elrond broke it."

Now he feels uncomfortable.

The whole thing is horrible. "I don't want to talk about it, if it will upset you, or if it made you suffer really badly," he forces out.

Maglor looks surprised. "Are you trying to be polite, or do you really not know what it did?"

"People used to say it made you all obsessed with only that, feeling bad about it," Earendil details, trying not to phrase it the real way he'd heard it.

That the ravenous dogs [ie their militia] of Feanor's spawn acted just as depraved as the sons themselves, turned into rabid, screaming mindless animals by the curse.

"Oh," Maglor comments, a little intrigued. "It actually just made us be sick all the time, and feel a lot of compulsion, not like mind-control but almost, I suppose. Though Nelyo and I often hurt ourselves to slow it down, at times, then I think the body had to heal first a little. I assume it's like when you don't feel well, at least you look at those times like I used to feel."

All the time, he thinks. How horrific.

It's nauseating to think of, the suffering. And all at Feanor's hand, and then their own, forced by this. And Maglor spared the boys despite it, and was good to them. Earendil doesn't have to wonder, he knows he wouldn't have been able to do the same if they'd switched places.

"I wish Luthien had done the right thing," Earendil tells him. By giving them the silmaril, obviously, eventually.

But greed got even her.

Elwing has often spoken of how much she hates Luthien for all her deeds -- keeping the silmaril is on the list. And then her wicked father too, for keeping it once more. Apparently his grandfather Thingol dying for it made no difference to this dipshit, or to Luthien. It's wild.

"I felt like it was Elwing's," he adds. "I didn't want us near it, but who was I to say that? And the elves said it was protecting everyone, making things better."

"Everyone wants one, child," Maglor says, kindly. "Few can resist, I doubt any elf can. The lady Luthien must have put an enchantment on the elf who delivered it to her son, so as not to take it himself. All the elves want it because they actually are drawn to, and want, the piece of my father's soul that is inside it, making it more radiant than any normal jewel. His genius I think is partially magically in them, making them so lovely to all."

"I always felt sick, to see it," Earendil tells him. "Except when Elwing made it dimmer for me, in Sirion. It was much too bright, I thought. In case anyone wants notes."

Maglor smiles. "It is no surprise you had a natural resistence to it," he comments. "Elrond said he felt similarly. I think Tuor probably would be the same."

His parents had been astonished to see a silmaril up close when they lived in Sirion with Elwing, but she had dimmed it for them always when with them, her power somehow making the light be blocked for it so they could see her instead of the bright light of the stone -- that probably made it less appealing to all of them, he thinks.

"Elwing says she was trying to get to the best future, that's why she kept it," Earendil offers. Maglor nods, understanding.

"She has great sight," he agrees. "Beyond someone like me."

Yet it was Maglor who took in the boys, and who chose to stay with Elrond later, and who softened his own heart against, and forgave, Elrond's fake parents [him and Elwing], which necessarily had to affect Elrond's opinion of them in some way at the very least.

"I am pleased you are happy together," Maglor adds. "How nice to see a youth in a good match, a good marriage. Personally, I've always felt it's better to marry someone unlike you, because then you know you really prefer them -- my parents are too alike with their art creation obsessions, I think. How could one tell if you like the other person if you share such a passion? It's too hard to tell."

Earendil closes his eyes and enjoys Maglor playing with his hair.

"You and Glorfindel are different too," he adds, and Maglor pooh poohs him.

"Tosh. We're both obnoxious, and meddling, and regret a lot about the past, and have no life outside art of whatever kind. We're exactly the same, except he's a hero, and I'm a villain," Maglor declares from above him.

"Not anymore," he points out.

"No," Maglor says. "Now I'm a 'reformed' villain. You're my favorite hero, after Finno and Elrond."

"I'm not much of one," he says into Maglor's soft shirt, as he strokes his back.

Maglor is very comforting, in his way. He can lull him to sleep by being close in the same way he can put people into any state he picks with his music.

Life continues like normal up until Feanor gets wounded [technically lethally poisoned] in the forge -- like he'd be anywhere else, really -- and Elrond goes to treat him at Nerdanel's house. Maglor gets extremely upset about it, and goes too.

He follows them, just because of how Maglor is visibly freaking out in a way he hasn't seen him do before, [Glorfindel keeps trying to calm him, but he doesn't seem to hear him] and he asks Elrond with osanwe surreptitiously, 'Is Nelyo coming too?'

'No,' Elrond says back mentally, as they ride to Nerdanel's house. 'I asked him -- he told me he doesn't care what happens to Feanor. But he knows Maglor is going, and me too, so it's not like it's a mystery.'

They get to the estate, and go in, and Maglor has a strong reaction to seeing his father hurt, so Glorfindel takes him into another room to calm down. It's kind of scary to see him be so afraid and upset, even if it's just Feanor; he's a controversial figure, not a beloved one.

Earendil watches Elrond treat Feanor for a while to give Maglor some privacy [he was messing around with a particular metal and a brick in the brick reflector he was building around something with the metal got dislodged due to a slight unexpected earthquake in Aman [they happen once in a while], and it hit the metal -- which created a chain reaction that poisoned him, in a fission reaction], and then he goes over to hover by the door of the room the other two are in.

He can tell Glorfindel is still trying to help Maglor relax, because when he listens at the door, he gets the impression that Maglor is shaking violently as Glorfindel tries to soothe him, from what he can hear.

As more people hear about what happened, some of Feanor's sons show up and start asking Earendil what's going on, since Elrond is busy using magic to try to heal Feanor.

Elwing shows up in the room with Elrond and Feanor all at once, he can sense, but he can also tell she's busy helping Elrond, so he doesn't go over and disturb them.

Celegorm bounds up the stairs, and whispers to him, "Elwing said she had to come here and help him."

Earendil can tell by the way he says it that he means Elrond by 'him'.

"Your father got injured," he explains, and Celegorm looks surprised. He appears to think about it, and finally shrugs, and leaves.

That honestly seems like a typical 'him' reaction, he thinks.

Amrod and Amras show up and demand Earendil tell them what's going on, so he takes them downstairs where Nerdanel is trying to keep everyone calm, and says what he knows [which is very little.]

Surprisingly, everyone is willing to linger quietly and see what Elrond says when he's done working on Feanor. He really is infamous for healing.

They all wait for a long time, and eventually one of Elrond's Feanoreans comes and tells Earendil [and the group] that, "Lord Elrond is finished and now rests, says the Princess Elwing. Lord Feanor must rest for a long time to heal, I was told."

Everyone startles at this, and then marvels at her power, not knowing Elwing was there in the first place.

He goes back up to where Elrond is now sleeping in Maglor's old room, with him and Glorfindel right there. Elwing is over with Feanor, and when he goes to her, she tells him with osanwe, 'He is lucky to not be in Mandos again, bringing others with him. This experiment was too dangerous. He is not going to react well to think he could have hurt everyone in this building, and it was luck that it didn't happen.'

It takes a long time for Elrond to stop resting, and for Feanor to wake up, but it happens in time.

Elrond explains to everyone about how he used a takeoff on phytoremediation to help fix Feanor, along with some magic to speed things up, but Earendil can literally see the elves' eyes glaze over.

Feanor has to be on bed rest for months after this, and Maglor stays in his old room so long that Nelyo and Finno come to join him, since Nelyo doesn't like to be apart from him for long periods of time.

Earendil doesn't have to ask to know Maglor has totally stopped eating. He kind of guards the door as Finno, Nelyo and Glorfindel attempt to help Maglor get to more of an emotional equilibrium. Unbelievably, Feanor gets better before Maglor does -- Elrond explains to him privately that Maglor is probably remembering back to when Feanor originally died, and what happened after to Nelyo, and it's too much for him to be plunged back into.

And then Feanor himself comes in and talks to Maglor ... with a bunch of people watching, because no one actually trusts him not to be an idiot. "It is all well now," Feanor tells him gently.

Maglor is still in bed, with Glorfindel beside him in their old setup when he was sick with Elrond in middle Earth. He looks at Feanor from his pillow, his face slack with exhaustion.

"Your Elrondaro fixed everything," Feanor adds gently. Nerdanel is there next to him, in case Maglor seems like he needs her, basically.

It's funny how only a few people openly refer to Elrond as being 'Maglor's'. It doesn't bother Earendil. It's the truth, after all. And he kind of thinks they share Elrond, at this point, metaphorically.

To everyone's surprise, Maglor seems to accept this without words, and then he closes his eyes and rests. This creeps all the elves out, of course.

"He is over-tired," Elwing theorizes later in another room with everyone but Maglor's support staff of Glorfindel, Nelyo, and Finno, "to do this."

"Actually," Elrond interjects, "I fear it may be my influence. Or ours. All three of us, and Glorfindel as well. For above any other being, Maglor has been close to us for a long time -- up close to our constant outpouring of energy, and my ring too, before. I wonder if any of that exposure has changed him. We tried to pour energy into him back then, to keep him alive and help him heal; like trying to keep a miniscule spark alive and then fan it into a reliable flame."

Elwing nods.

"Basically, yeah," she agrees.

Elrond himself still looks tired, actually. They get Maglor back home after some time, but now he is quieter. It's weird and horrible.

He doesn't do his usual routine, or hang out [with anyone, not just Earendil.] He just stays in his room as if he's sick again, and now Feanor visits him all the time to try to reassure him that everything is okay. [Some of his brothers attempt to as well, but Elrond tells them he cannot allow anything that could negatively affect Maglor, since he's already trying to manage Feanor being there, and they surprisingly obey him.]

It is hard for him to recover from this mental shock, but eventually he does, and tentatively returns to his usual life.

Weirdly, now Feanor and Nerdanel visit Maglor together constantly. No one says anything about Maglor's eating problem reccurence, despite how he looks more frail now. Feanor has forsworn more engineering work, he hears, which sounds crazy and impossible, given the dude's personality.

Nelyo too stays with Maglor, and Finno is there obviously as well, to try to relax him. It's almost amusing that out of all of Feanor's family, it's him that got upset -- and Amras as well a bit, actually.

It's hard to have to be not a part of it all, because they are Maglor's real family. Earendil is a random guy that's related to Maglor's adopted kid. And not even truly random, he's their old enemy. He has no doubt that Maglor thinks of Elrond as his real son, and that Elrond thinks of Maglor as his real father.

So mostly he stays over in his house with Elwing, who realizes she can just spy on it all as a bird and then show Earendil with magic. "It'll be great," she enthuses to him, and flies off.

And then once in position, shows him in his mind what her view is.

Suffice it to say, it's not great. Feanor mostly sits or kneels on the floor on the room as he talks to Maglor, who is on his day bed. Miriel comes as well, which seems to help Maglor for some reason. Elrond helps him kind of snap out of his reaction over time, and then it's superficially back to normal.

Feanor and Nerdanel go home, and Elrond helps Amras too, and then Glorfindel and Elrond kind of assist Maglor in getting back into his typical routine.

Maglor then goes about his normal life again, and is apparently not going to mention what happened, which seems nuts. The next time they are together in Earendil's house, Maglor is actually about to play for him, he can't help but say something.

"You know, I don't talk about what happened to me," Earendil makes himself say. "Maybe I should. And maybe it would make you feel better, if you did, too."

Maglor looks up from where he was messing about with a particular harp [yes, he already has several over at Earendil's house for when he plays there. He has some harps at Nimloth's, at her sons' house [and that wicked sister of Turgon is there too now], at Elwing's house, recently at Glorfindel's parents' house, and over in Gil-Galad's rooms in case he wants to hear some music. It goes without saying that there are some in Nelyo and Finno's house already.

Maglor seems surprised. "Do you wish to speak on that time?" he asks.

"I mean, I thought I didn't," Earendil finds himself saying, unexpectedly. "But I kinda do. I mean ... I was so hysterical. Everything got worse and worse, until I wanted to throw myself off my ship, in the sky. But now, I don't feel as afraid, when I think of it, like the thought itself could kill me."

Maglor comes over to him, leaving his harp behind, and sits with him, his hands on Earendil's arm. "Child, do not trouble yourself. I do not want you to be down."

"It's not like that," he explains, looking down at him, next to him on the couch. "It's more like I want somebody else to admit it was all unfair, for me to exist. I want my parents to apologize to me for it. I resent my life, and I'm bitter."

He clasps Maglor in his arms, who tells him soft nonsense words to help calm him.

Not having Maglor as a friend-distraction-fun person all this time, or most of everyone else, has let him sit alone with his thoughts to the point that he's realized how upset he is on the grander scale.

"I want to go talk to them about it," Earendil admits.

"Do you want me to travel with you?" Maglor asks him, sitting back, so he lets him go. "I can't imagine I can be in the room, given my crimes, but I can wait nearby for you."

"Yeah," he agrees. It's hard to ask for people to help you. It's such an imposition; thankfully Maglor often side-steps that on his own.

Elwing of course knew all this before he did, like always. He likes that, it makes him feel safer. They already talked about it last night, and she told him to do whatever he needs to to feel better.

He goes over and sees his parents and expresses his feelings. They're both famous for being amazing, so it's no surprise that they tell him they understand, and love him, and are sorry. It's all stupid, but it's something he feels he has to do. Nobody laughs about it, which is nice.

They part amicably, and Earendil weirdly feels like his heart really does feel lighter.

He meets back up with Maglor where he left him, out in the far distance from his parents' house. Maglor is there, laying on the grass on a blanket. He's in the shade, wrapped in extra cloaks despite the temperate weather. His horse is off exploring the area on its own, as elven horses do.

"How are you?" Maglor asks him from his supine position, when he gets up close to him.

"Good, I think," he says honestly, and lays down beside him on part of the blanket, on his side, facing him [it's not big enough for both of them to be on it totally.]

"Then I am pleased," Maglor tells him. "You know, you've been invited to the latest 'do', in Tirion," he continues. "We're all going, it's supposed to be the biggest party ever -- do you think you and Elwing want to go?"

"I guess," he prevaricates. "If I'm not tired then, like now."

"Well, you did something difficult, impressive," Maglor says, looking over at him, still laying flat. "That's not really my speed. I can't believe I had such a fit over my father. You'd think I would have been thrilled for him to actually die again, like Nelyo was, and half of them. But it just made me think back to when it first happened, and how I was barely able to keep going. I obviously couldn't keep it together -- then or now."

"I would be worse," Earendil assures him. "If some elf tried to kill me now. Even though I'm strong now, I'd still just remember back then, and be scared."

"Well, you were young, dear," Maglor points out. "I was much older when my problems started."

"I feel like I never grew up," Earendil tells him.

"I don't think elves ever do," Maglor shrugs. "We don't seem to be made to. You've got a little head start there, maybe, being one of the higher people. At least the elves can try now, maybe, to become more mature, after the tumultuous past of our race. But I doubt it. I hate to interrupt, but I actually feel hungry. We should go home."

"I could eat, too -- I'll get something at my parents', it's closer. I'll be right back," Earendil offers, and rides back over.

Maglor won't see his parents without Elrond and Glorfindel, he knows. He's apparently concerned they will try to get revenge for what happened in Sirion to the Gondolin refugees.

Earendil has tried to tell him that's all in the past, and they were stupid to stay there, knowing Elwing had the silmaril, and she and him were stupid too, but Maglor still won't go near all people from the past alone.

He explains to his parents' servants what he wants, and asks for soup or fruit drinks, of which they have neither. So he asks for soft food, and they do what they can for him, and then he takes it all to go in a big woven picnic basket back to where Maglor is.

"They had sandwiches," he tells Maglor, who tries one that he hands him.

Basically he had to ask the servants to crush up or dice up anything that could go with soft bread in a sandwich, and give him some different types of that, and also to cut the crusts off, and only use soft bread inside a loaf, not any tougher part of it. They tried their best, but it's mostly strange fillings. At least they had egg, that they chopped up, for one.

Maglor eats slowly, but still better than he has recently.

"I feel like I've been afraid of elves for so long," Earendil tells him, after Maglor seems done with the sandwiches; Earendil finished eating long ago because he eats at a normal, or fast, pace. "I used to fear being near them."

Maglor nods in understanding. "At least you can take them out now, if you needed to defend yourself."

"Yeah," he agrees.

"And lots of elves would fight for you, against others," Maglor adds. "Elrond, obviously, Glorfindel, and Elwing would be there too. And I would help, as much as I could, with my power. Galadriel would too. Of course Finno would probably jump in out of the blue, and all bets are off when he's involved, reality seems to take a back seat then, as we all know."

They smile at each other.

He asks if he can hold him, and Maglor says yes, and then they talk of random things for a while.

"That ball coming up is going to be extra exciting," he continues later on. "Just so you know. There will be athletic games, and horse races. The elves on parade, as it were."

Earendil tries not to guffaw at the idea.

"They make me laugh, all gussied up like dolls," he tells Maglor. "And they all look the same, are the same. But are convinced each miniscule group is different from each other."

Maglor laughs. "Don't tell them. They're all in for a big surprise."

Elwing decides she wants to go to the elf party, so he comes along, and Maglor helps them pick out their clothes. They all wear super fancy layers of robes, and jewelry even, and Earendil tells him, still in his closet, "I look like an idiot."

He's used to wearing his plain sailing-esque outfits still. This is different.

They even had Maglor choose their fragrances, and he put them on their clothes, not skin, as per their wish. Apparently all the royals wear expensive perfumes.

That does explain why Finno always smells so good, he's concluded. Or maybe it's just his innate goodness. It could go either way.

"You look very dashing," Maglor corrects, brushing his hair; he has to sit in a chair so Maglor can reach. Elwing's outfit is already done, and makes her look just like Luthien, but she said she's fine with it and wants it.

Even beside the outfit, she looks like Luthien anyway now that's she's feeling good. She radiates light like her, and is entrancingly beautiful like her, and looks magical somehow, all in a very desirable way.

Eventually they travel to Tirion all together, everybody decked out impressively, and the elves do double takes at Elwing's gorgeousness. Thankfully nobody says anything ... mostly because they're afraid of Earendil, and also Maglor, who stays with the two of them.

Galadriel comes and joins them for a while, and they eat some party food appetizers [often little crackers with stuff on top; he's not super into it] together. Then her mother comes over, who is one of the queen friends of Elwing. Eventually Elwing goes off with the other queens, and Galadriel goes off to talk to Feanor, who is there with Nerdanel and Miriel [all are more reconciled now, it seems.]

Nerdanel comes over to see Maglor, and asks Earendil, "Do you think your wife would like a statue of herself? I've been working on painting them, recently. It wouldn't be able to match up perfectly, but it would still be fun to try."

"Well, she did once give me a painting of herself," he says. "I think it'd be neat. We'd make tons of inappropriate jokes about it."

Nerdanel starts laughing, apparently not expecting that. The elves never seem to expect what they're like, or what they say.

"I would say let it be a surprise," she finally says, "but I assume she'll figure it out on her own beforehand."

Earendil shrugs. Just then, trumpets sound, announcing the beginning of the sporting games. Most elves all rush to go see them. A few linger, apparently hoping to try to talk to Maglor, who stays inside, but they seem dissuaded and hesitant based on how Earendil is next to him.

"Do you want me to walk over to Miriel," Earendil offers to him. "I think your fanbase wants face time with you."

Maglor looks amused. "Elves are going to have to learn that you are a regular, nice person at some point," he tells him. "Why don't we try it now."

Earendil shrugs and agrees.

So Maglor gestures for the elves to approach him, and they scamper up to him in their weird elegant way, looking a bit relunctant re Earendil, and bow to him -- but not to Maglor, who doesn't seem to mind. "This is Lord Earendil. I was just asking him if he'd like to have a cup of juice with me. Would you all like to as well?"

They agree, and Maglor orders a page to bring drinks to them.

The room is filled with some fragrance [it's okay, but he's not into it, they must be melting wax perfumes or something], and flowers are in vases everywhere inside these royal ballrooms in Tirion. The elves have on more zillion pounds of jewelry than usual today, for this event, and fancy robes.

Earendil would only say it to Elwing, and has, but sometimes he feels lucky that they both have no kingdom to rule [since Turgon and Thingol still reign in their new lands], because they both don't have to wear crowns. They don't even wear coronets or diadems of any type, usually. Neither prefer it. Elrond only wears very light ones, and only if it's a formal occasion, he's noticed.

All the elves wear copious bejeweled headgear today -- even Nelyo, Finno and Maglor.

The gaggle of Maglor's fans ask him when he's going to play next, and things like that, and he answers them. They all look at Earendil as if he's some magical thingamabob they are entranced by. It's very weird and uncomfortable.

"Now, I have told Lord Earendil of how great the elves of Tirion, and of King Arafinwe are. I am sure you all have many things to say to him. But he was just remarking to me that he tires of always being superior to everyone, and would like to hear the elves speak casually to him, in this particular moment. I can't do this all by myself, so I ask you to help me," Maglor tells them.

"Did you really slay a dragon, Lord?" one elf whispers to him, and he notices how young all these elves seem [though who knows their real ages, he can't tell that of elves.] They are not weighed down like he is.

"Yes," he answers.

"How is that casual?" Maglor challenges the elf speaker gently, with a smile. "I was certain you would speak of your famous skill in pottery. Who hasn't heard tell of it."

The elf looks very excited, and affected, by his words. "Do you have some examples in galleries?" he continues.

"Yes, Lord Makalaure," another one says, and so Maglor declares Earendil should come and see the art of Tirion.

He doesn't mind, and goes with Maglor and the flock of elves out to where the art galleries are, in one part of the big palace complex. The pottery is pretty cool.

"It's pretty neat," he tells the elf, as Maglor examines different pieces, and openly praises them. This elf might have some type of aneurysm from getting to talk to both of them, and also having them compliment their work, he thinks.

Eventually Maglor extracts them by saying he has to go do something for the Queen Indis, and that Earendil of course already said he wanted to see her. The elves leave them.

"Is that true?" he whispers to him.

"Yes, of course, dear," Maglor assures him. "I asked her if she could come up with something I could do inside instead of having to sit in the royal box and see the games, and she suggested I could sing for her, and I thought it was a great idea. But you should stop and see the games for a moment, in case you enjoy them."

"I'm good," Earendil assures him.

He's seen these types of games competitions in new Rivendell before. The elves run races, throw stuff, do archery, race horses, all the usual stuff.

They walk down and find Indis in a different area of the palace. The decor in the royal parts of Tirion is very busy, very fancy. It's not like in new Rivendell, which is more subtle, more discreet.

"Lord Earendil wanted to hear it," Maglor explains to Indis, who rises as they enter. She bows at Earendil, but they don't at each other.

"Of course," Indis agrees. "Please, take a seat."

They all sit down, and then Maglor sings some songs. They're pretty great, but he's always great at music. So that's no surprise.

They both sit in silence when Maglor finishes. Finally Earendil comes back to himself and says, "I liked it."

Maglor smiles.

"Yes," Indis agrees, looking surprised at Earendil's words. Probably the fancier elves babble out breathless adulatory nonsense to Maglor about his music's greatness or something. "Shall we eat together? Or do you have a prior engagement?"

He looks at Maglor, to see what he'll say, and he agrees. Indis brings them to one of the party rooms where servants are still bringing in food for later, for when the elves return from the games they're all watching. She has a servant make up plates for them, and pour wine.

"Elrond has me on a strange diet, after my illness," Maglor tells her, "so I will ask for a few other odds and ends."

She understands of course -- Maglor is famously eccentric, even Earendil knows that -- and he orders some stuff from a page. And so now Earendil gets to drink something nice instead of just wine. The elves love alcohol, he does not.

Then Maglor and Indis talk about the party. Earendil listens as he tries the cheese puff gougeres, the pate with homemade crackers, tomato tart, tapenade, confit de canard, cervelle de canut on bread [it's just white cheese spread.] There's a tower of little sugar puffs and also meringues with cream and toppings, chocolate pie that's too dense, and millefeuille.

There are several wines that are apparently had with different parts of the meal. Maglor and Indis try them, with Maglor excusing their odd eating and drinking by saying they already had stuff at home.

Earendil eats the things he likes off Maglor's plate after he says he cannot eat more than he does [a little], and he drinks his wine for him. "This trade is not equal," he tells Earendil earnestly, who smiles. "This is very good."

Indis looks surprised, but doesn't protest at it all.

The food is okay, but he's not super into it. At home the food is more to his taste; there's something different all the time. Tirion food is always the same.

"We don't want to miss the performances," Maglor says, after a while. "There are some ballets, fireworks, plays."

They bid Indis goodbye, and Maglor nods to her, and she nods back. This must be their way of bowing, some old style, Earendil thinks.

There are elves playing music, he notices, as he walks after Maglor through the endless maze of opulent palace halls -- but Maglor's here. "I thought elves didn't play when you were around?" he asks him quietly.

Maglor looks up at him and smiles. "I wrote to Ara and Nolo asking for it, saying I missed hearing good old fashioned, classic elf music, and desired greatly to hear the people here play. They agreed to ignore my presence, and I agreed to stay out of sight of them."

"Oh," Earendil murmurs. Wild.

As the party goes on, the drinking gets serious, of course. They take in a ballet at one point from a distant vantage point. It's extremely mannered and not at all like the ones at home.

Eventually lots of elves just start dancing together to singing or playing because they want to have a good time. Some play cards and other gambling type games together.

There are no mock fights, which he is glad for. He doesn't want to see any fighting, even that with blunted swords. Other elves go out hunting for fun often, like Ara and Nolo and Feanor, too, with them, he knows; it's a common pastime. They all discuss whether to go later on today, as do many elves right now.

Elwing comes back at one point to tell there there's a treasure hunt going on, and, "I want to know where it is."

She hands the clue paper to Maglor, who reads it. "I don't know," he admits. "I'd ask Elrond, honestly."

"Okay," she agrees, and rushes off, pulling Earendil after her.

They get to Elrond and he's of course currently talking to Ara and Nolo and Feanor -- Thranduil's people and Thingol's people don't go to Tirion, due to their own disinterest, so some elves seem to view Elrond as the representative of those kinds of elves, despite that not being true.

Gil-Galad is nearby, talking to Tirion's dignitaries, and Glorfindel is busy watching the sporting games.

Elwing goes right up to Elrond and he turns and says, pleased, "Mother."

"I want you to figure out where the treasure is and tell me just so I get to know," she explains. Then she turns to the elf kings. "I don't want some little elf treasure, don't worry. I just want to know the answer to the clue."

"Well, what's the clue?" Elrond asks, and walks off with her, looking at it.

He watches them walk off, trying to decide if he should follow and intrude or not. He likes to give them space to develop a relationship together, especially after their past as a group.

He finally glances back in front of him to find the two elf kings looking at him eagerly.

Ara and Nolo seem like they want to talk to Earendil, so he steps back and hustles after his family, as he hears Feanor say to them, from the side, "The three of them are working on it, they are busy -- I think they will definitely be able to figure it out. They will probably now come to it together."

"We were working on it and couldn't figure it out," Elwing tells Elrond, he hears as he catches up to them. She must mean her queen friends, Earendil thinks.

Elwing's actually been busy out alone in nature with a sound recording machine that she sings into, so that they can play it back and Maglor can then hear her 'music'. She tried to figure out how to show him the notes of it on bells and instruments but she's can't remember which notes are where, it's too hard. So that is an easier way to do it. [Celegorm helps her carry the equipment out there, and then her singing noise knocks him unconcious, so she just wakes up him when she's done, and he helps her carry it all back. The stuff is unwieldy.]

Elrond discusses it with her as Earendil listens. There are sometimes speeches by the elf kings at parties in Tirion, but he never goes to where they are giving them or listens. They are for the elves to hear; he lives outside their world, in a sense. He does not care about them.

Even his parents don't live in new Gondolin -- and even Nimloth doesn't live in new Doriath. So he and Elwing don't have any connection to it all, really, more than they already didn't feel one. Anyway, he doesn't want to beholden to some elves as a ruler when he's not even an elf. He wants to be free.

He wants to be happy.

Elrond and Elwing keep debating where the treasure is buried for a while, so he sits by them and watches.

Galas like this aren't always bad. The elves are fun to see when they're partying, admittedly. When these non-new Rivendell ones see him though, they try not to be so merry and silly and try to look more serious; it's annoying to be a downer just by existing. At least Elrond and Elwing seem to have a good time trying to figure out the treasure riddle.

Interestingly, today Miriel wears some gold stuff on her typical silver and jewels outfit, and Indis wears some silver stuff, he notices. Is that unusual? He's unsure, but it feels that way, based on the times he's seen them in the past. He'll have to ask Glorfindel.

Erestor doesn't go to parties like these, neither do the 'lower' people from home, like Gildor and all the rest of them.

There're not missing out, he thinks. Eventually he wanders over to Miriel's hall of tapestries; apparently after living again she remade all the old ones so they'd look fresh, since thread decays over time. He sits on the benches in there and looks at the giant pieces of work. It's pretty impressive.

He can hear the elf ball in the distance, music and laughter and noise. It's hard to take the crush of people when you're right there in the thick of the elves. Earendil is used to being alone on his ship, alone in new Rivendell, and alone on his walks. And even if he is near elves, it's like one [Maglor] or a few [their circle in new Rivendell] at a time.

He goes on a walk inside the palace, then learns not to -- many servant elves come up to him when they see him in weird random areas and ask him what he wants/what they can get him, etc. So he abandons that idea.

He eventually wanders past Nerdanel and other people making ice sculptures in some kind of timed competition, which is cool to watch -- other people make them out of butter, or sand. She comes to say hi to him after her current piece is finished, and looks half like herself [in a work apron] and half not [because she's got more fancy stuff on, like jewelry and that type of thing.]

After a while he ventures back towards the crowds, and finds the elves trying out some silly thing Feanor has built [before his accident, and also with boring materials, nothing dangerous]; it's a moving carriage on a track that goes fast, and it's all mechanical. It's just for fun, and resembles and endless slide that goes up and down.

He watches them 'ride' on it. The elves laugh and seem to enjoy it.

Then Elrond and Elwing come up to it, and see him, and Elwing says, "Come on, we're gonna try it."

So he agrees, and the next time it's open, they get on it.

It feels strange; it's a little like being a horse or on his ship, but not. Wind rushes past them. Elrond laughs. The little carts are only two normal elf-widths wide, so Elwing sits with Elrond, and Earendil sits in the cart behind them, because he's not as tiny-bodied as them.

After they get to the end of the cart track, they get off, and discuss their reviews of it. Elrond eventually tells him where Maglor, Finno and Nelyo are, in case he wants to see them.

Caranthir and Celegorm don't come to parties. Unfortunately for Earendil, they are not included in polite society in Tirion, given their lack of 'being housebroken', as Maglor said once, 'Celegorm's current dog would be a better fit, he's much more civilized than either of them!'

The music here in the background at the party is what he thinks of as 'fussy elf music', as opposed to the music of Thranduil's and Doriath's people, which is more 'loosey-goosey random elf music.' Yes, he has shared those labels with Maglor, who liked it, and agreed, and laughed heartily. This Tirion music is not like Maglor's, which sucks him in, and captures his emotions; it's more bland and appropriate and nice for the background only.

[Maglor is now often writing music for dwaves singing/playing with elves at the same time, in the piece now, now, that is performed in new Rivendell and also where Tylpe lives, over with the dwarves. Both races are kind of shocked by this new innovation/concept.]

He walks out to where the trio of them are, and finds Maglor and Nelyo watching Finno try to climb a 'wall'. It's not a normal wall. It's clearly trying to mimic the outside, but without plants. So fake rocks glued on and all that. He's trying to compete against another elf.

"Hey," he says to the two of them, who look over, and Maglor asks him to sit with them. He does. "Could Celegorm beat them both?"

Nelyo looks surprised faintly, and then amused, also faintly, and Maglor makes an amused noise.

"I can only assume he'd somehow rip it all apart on his way up, and down," he answers. "I've told him to not destroy anyone else's things, so let us not test him here. Have you tried the ices?"

He shakes his head, so Maglor orders a servant to bring them some.

An array arrives in time, and before that they all watch Finno competing in this 'race up a wall' thing. There's a rope around his waist on a harness that is tied to the top of the wall and retracting automatically as he climbs up, which must be for safety, he thinks.

Finally Finno takes a break, and exclaims delightedly to see all the frozen desserts.

"Is this my reward?" he asks brightly, taking the harness off. Well, he does everything brightly now. He's finally happy that he has Nelyo back.

"Yes, you comported yourself well on that last traverse," Maglor japes, and he laughs. They all try the ices together.

Earendil listens to the three of them talk as they all eat, and he watches the next climbers try to ascend.

They talk about the climbing, which Finno appears to like to do. Eventually Earendil realizes that Feanor invented these fake walls for climbing due to Celegorm whining about it being impossible to climb on real mountains in the hot sun or in the rain or snow. And then Finno tried it, and got addicted, and asked Feanor to put a wall over at Tirion too, so when he's back there visiting his family he has something fun to do.

"Do you want to try it?" Finno asks Earendil.

He shrugs. "I don't think so," he explains. "I like the 'run over random stuff' sport more than I think I'd like that."

Finno understands.

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up, before," Earendil adds. "It was kind. And I'm happy you're happy now."

Fingon blinks for a moment, and smiles. "Of course I am happy, I have Nelyo. And everything is good."

The elf in question looks pretty embarrassed. But since Finno did do his crazy rescue of him, and then he and Maglor helped him survive and recover, Finno probably has a lot of slack in this area, he thinks.

"I wish I were that simple," Maglor muses, clearly to tease him, and Finno protests this inherent comment on him.

Elwing appears suddenly, clearly having materialized herself with magic behind a nearby tree, so no elves directly saw her appear [ ... technically], and comes to them. 'Hi,' he says to her with osanwe.

'Hey', she smiles back, and he can feel her good cheer and joy as if smelling nice flowers and green trees in nature.

"Will you play for us?" Elwing asks Maglor. "They said they both liked one song best and they tried to hum it but I can't figure it out."

"Of course; it's late enough, the elves can't say I took attention away from their games," Maglor agrees easily, and gets up, and goes with her to her queenly friends, and plays for them, after he fetches a harp from his old room in the palace.

[It's only much later that Earendil realizes that Elwing could have looked into her elf friends' memories at any time to hear the song exactly as they heard it before -- and he turns to her then, when he thinks of this, and she smiles and says, 'you got me!']

Maglor plays for her and Eärwen and Anairë, and of course eventually a great crowd gathers outside the room to hear it.

Earendil gets to hear him anytime at home, so he and Finno and Nelyo don't rush to do so now. "Do you both want to go water sledding?" Nelyo asks them softly.

"I don't know what that is, but it sounds interesting," Earendil judges.

Nelyo kind of smiles. Finno unsurprisingly enthuses about the idea. It's basically a slide and they've rigged up water to flow on it. It's very fun. And then it's only afterwards when they all grab towels that servants hand them that Earendil realizes his clothes are drenched.

"Come along to my rooms," Finno suggests. "We can change there, and dry out our togs."

He takes them through the palace to his rooms, and Earendil looks at them. They are beautiful. Finno gives him some extra clothes' of Nelyo's, since he's got extra there already in case he was in Tirion and needed or wanted them.

They all sit down in part of the suite together after totally drying off and changing, and Finno asks them, "Shall we have a rhapsode come and recite for us?"

"What's that?" he asks from the too formal couch he's sitting on.

Fingon's rooms don't seem like they'd be his at all -- they are so formal and stiff and fancy, not at all like the guy actually is. It's all so overdone, so ornate. It's too much; off-putting.

"A poem reciter," Nelyo explains.

There's some distant noise outside, and Finno pops up and looks out a window down to the fields below. "Oh, people are playing chovgan, if you want to watch it," he tells them. "Or play, though I don't. Kano is demmed convinced I'll get hurt and always wants me to be careful. Glorfindel has chosen a strict taskmaster," he jokes.

"Is that the horses and mallets one?" Earendil asks. "Why would you want a poem-speaker? Is it a popular elf thing?"

"Yes to the first," Finno agrees. "And I do like rhapsodes, once in a while. Though I don't go to the royal contests; surely many will perform today. They sew songs together with a staff, as one says. You can pick what part of whatever ancient epic you want to hear spoken, and then they speak it for you."

"What's the draw of poetry?" he questions.

It can sound okay when Maglor reads it to him, all impassioned about it, but on his own with a book, Earendil doesn't really get why anyone likes it.

"It's epic," Finno tells him earnestly. "About the amazing old stories of the great journey."

"People think that's interesting?" Earendil says, kind of to himself. "I guess it must have been big, the elves meeting the gods."

"Well, didn't you think it was shocking to meet the Valar here in Aman?" Finno asks.

Earendil shrugs. "I already knew Elwing. And Cirdan had introduced me to Ulmo, who was also already close to my father. So no. I was in a bad mood then anyway; I wanted them to kill me. I hate them."

Fingon looks shocked, and Earendil realizes he's been too honest.

"Me too," Nelyo tells him, and he looks at him. Nelyo looks pleased, in his subtle way.

"Well, so do I," Fingon agrees. "I suppose I'm just not used to hearing people speak so openly of it. But I tell you, you definitely need to hear a rhapsode recite, if you haven't yet. An aoidos. It is a great part of culture, our literary history. Of the Noldor, I mean."

"I don't really think of myself as Noldor," Earendil confesses. "Despite my partial blood. But I'll try it out."

"You should listen to the best one," Nelyo interjects. "I think he'll be down in his grandmother's -- in Indis' -- garden."

Elves who really know him often still spell out people's [sometimes multiple] names to him if they use titles, tyring to help him remember who is who from ancient Aman.

"Yes," Finno confirms. "Typically at the big parties he's there giving recitations on a little dais. The later queens like it -- Eärwen and my mother, I mean. Anairë. As opposed to the Lady Nerdanel, who I am sure prefers working on her incredible sculptures instead. The garden is Indis' originally, though they say now that Queen Miriel designs it with her, when they wish to work on it in the artistic sense."

"Why is Nerdanel not called queen?" he asks.

They both kind of pause. They think about it. Finally Nelyo says, "My mother did not desire to be queen. We never thought anything would ever change, at the beginning. So she was called 'princess' then, but let it be known that she preferred just 'lady' instead. And thus was spoken of so. All still obey her mandate, I think."

"Exactly," Finno agrees.

"Well, I'll go check out the poet guy," Earendil says. "See you."

They bid him farewell and give him directions, and he ventures down into the garden. He can hear the guy talking in Quenya, and it's poetry. He stays out of sight, and listens for a little while. [With elves, it's best to stay hidden, because Earendil unfortunately apparently glows more than them all over; they typically only glow mostly in their eyes.]

It's all balderdash. He gives up.

He walks around for a while, sees Elwing again and she comes to him. "This has been fun," she tells him seriously. "But I have bad news."

"Were the elves too into you?" he asks. This is a real problem now, since her beauty shines clear through, due to her happiness.

"Oh, yeah, but that's not what I mean. I don't care about that," Elwing explains. "Olwe is letting all the elves come to the shore and play in his boats, as an act of reconciliation. So we can't go to your ship. Random elves will be everywhere, not just the normal dock elves."

"Ugh," he groans. "What bad news. ... Good for their race, I guess. Whatever."

"I know," she says, sympathetic. "Maybe you can sail over to the other side of the land in the sky and then sail around there for fun in the water. That way we can avoid the elves."

He considers this. "You're a genius," he tells her, and she laughs. It sounds like beautiful magic pretty sparkles, somehow. "That's where Elrond got it from."

"You know that's not true," she says, amused. "It has to be from your parents. Like I always say. They made some good choices."

"Hm," he acknowledges.

"Maglor is horse racing Finrod in secret right now," Elwing tells him. "Come on, we can console him when he loses."

"Really?" he says, surprised, and follows her. She is floating on the ground; moving forward, but not moving her feet. "Remember to swish your legs," he reminds her.

"Oh yeah, you're right," she tsks herself. They often try to remind each other to act more 'elf-y' when around the elves in foreign places like Tirion.

They walk out of the garden complex and further afield and then find the two of them, who are dismounting their horses. "Good try," Elwing tells Maglor, who turns and smiles.

Finrod looks surprised to see them.

"I had no chance," Maglor says, amused. "You both should see Finrod's collection of fine horses, if you haven't."

They have not. Finrod is pleased to show them, and they all walk over to the royal stables of Finarfin. There is a marawari, an akhal-teke, an eriskay pony, a przewalski.

"What do you use them for?" Elwing asks him.

Finrod blinks under the onslaught of actually looking her right in the face, due to her glowing, great beauty.

"They're just for pleasure," Maglor explains. "Most elf hobbies are. The higher the elf, the more rare and expensive the hobby."

"Actually," Finrod interrupts, "Lord Earendil, did you hear about King Olwe's proclamation? I can't wait to commission a boat and go on the water for sport. Do you have any recommendations?"

Oh, yuck. He hates the idea of being involved with any of this, for anyone, honestly. Well, Elwing did have that great idea.

"Sorry, I'll be sailing on the other coast for now," he explains, and he can visually see Finrod get to the mental moment where he realizes his ship can fly. It's kinda funny.

Elwing's falcon flies up and sits on his shoulder. It does its own thing most of the time. It knows Elwing as a bird, not just a person, so they are friends-equals, instead of owner-pet.

"We should plan it," Elwing says. "Come on."

She grabs Maglor's hand, and Earendil's, and pulls them after her, so they both come. "We should go now," she tells them, and looks at Earendil. "That way we'll avoid the rush tomorrow -- and how they'll swarm you as soon as the sun-tree lights up!"

"You're right," he whispers. Elves will come to him for advice or something, now that Olwe has made this announcement.

"You should get a horse and ride out to the docks," Maglor advises. "Where will you put the ship on the west coast, up north above Formenos' level, or south near Orome's forest?"

He doesn't say up by the halls of Mandos, but that's what he's talking about, Earendil knows. He's been there. He definitely doesn't want to be near there, or near Nienna's area.

"I don't know," Earendil admits. "I have no idea."

"Come with us," Elwing tells Maglor. "We'll barely tell you to eat like Glorfindel would."

Maglor peers at her with suspicion. "Mmhm ... Despite my instincts on that specific front, I'll say yes. But I must tell Nelyo first."

"Just bring him," Elwing dismisses. "He and Finno can hang out over there. If they need elf stuff the Thranduil elves can bring it over, or the Galadriel ones."

Maglor tips his head, disconcerted. "It is fine if they come," Earendil says, backing her up. "Maybe they'd like it. No old land to think about."

That is, no old kinslaying at the docks of Olwe's ships to think about.

"Well, I can ask," Maglor prevaricates.

"They're going to say yes," Elwing interrupts. "Go tell them, they're still in Finno's room. And meet us with horses out in that copse of trees over there, nearby. Then we'll take off."

So Maglor agrees and departs to fetch the two of them [if they want to] and he and Elwing go get a horse. She turns into a bird and sits on his other shoulder [her hawk bird is still on the other one.] Earendil obtains a horse easily by telling the first random elf he sees that he needs to talk to one of Maglor's people, and specifically he needs a person from new Rivendell.

Whoever it is rushes to obey him, and they bring him an elf from home, and he explains he needs a horse, and that Maglor will too, and maybe two more will be needed; but only for a very short time. The elf bows, and goes off to bring them the right horses [ie, ones already from new Rivendell that they came to Tirion with.]

Maglor reappears quickly with Finno and Nelyo, and Earendil suddenly thinks that they must tell Elrond too. 'Yes,' Elwing agrees with osanwe, and he can feel her reach out and tell Elrond, who just says 'enjoy yourselves.'

The home elf comes with the horses, so they get on them and ride out.

It's a fast trip to where his ship is, and they all board it, and then he flies it into the sky, and across the continent to the west coast. Of course, it's a landmass taller than it is wide, so it doesn't take long. Thankfully Maglor has long left several harps on his ship permanently, in case they're on it and he/someone wants him to play. So there's no worry about that.

He puts the ship in water over on the other side of the land, where some elves have already built docks that are rarely used, down to the west of Orome's forest.

And then he breathes a sigh of relief.

They made it. He's avoided getting suffocated by a zillion elves.

"That was incredible," Finno tells him, excited. "The ship was in the sky! I'm sure everyone in Tirion was amazed."

He blinks and looks at him.

Oh shit. He did fly the direct route over the land, which meant he was close enough to Tirion that they could surely see him do it, even though he no longer has the silmaril on the mast. [He did not wear it on his brow, ugh. Lies. Well, unless he needed a headlamp for something, but that doesn't count, obviously.]

"They'll be busy with their own rush to try their hand at boating," Maglor says. "Now I should go over to Galadriel's demesne and ask for her to supply food and pages for us."

His short dark hair is all windswept from being up in the sky.

"Tomorrow," Earendil requests, and he acquiesces. "I think I want to go to sleep. Why don't you guys take the other big cabin," he tells Finno and Nelyo, and they are good with that.

So they all go down below decks, and the two elves split off into their own room, and then the three of them go into Earendil's quarters. They all put on sleep clothes, and do their ablutions, and Maglor tells them, "I must have imbibed too much -- I hardly even felt scared of being so high up in the sky."

Elwing grabs his arm with both hands.

"It was fun," she tells him, and he agrees honestly.

"Now lay with us, before we sleep," she adds, dragging him to the bed as he laughs.

They all three take off their shoes [Elwing removes her shoe illusion, because she doesn't wear them], get on the bed together, and basically just snuggle. Amusingly, Maglor falls into reverie after a while, so Earendil puts some blankets over him and tucks him in. He and Elwing go sleep in his hammock together.

The next day they find that there are elves from home outside, who rode horses over and brought stuff with them. Erestor is there, he realizes, and Maglor gets off the ship [he helps him off, so he won't fall] and talks to him and the elves who've come.

Eventually the elves unpack food, he can smell it ... it smells very good.

Maglor gets back on the ship and tells the group, "Well, Elrond told Erestor he should take a holiday. So basically everyone is now waiting to see if new Rivendell devolves into chaos without him. Or we'll find out that he simply works too hard because he's too much of a Noldor. Time will tell. Let's have breakfast."

They all disembark and the elves actually go off to Galadriel's area. Maglor explains that they, including Erestor, are going to stay there. Apparently many Noldor really like travel, and want to go back and forth from new Rivendell to Galadriel's treehouses to the west coast because they enjoy riding.

Thank goodness, he thinks, eating fried dough sticks with sweet sauces. He wouldn't want to eat in front of random elves.

So basically, they all vacation there. Elwing announces to them that, "It's imperative that we explore the shore for cool seashells. If you want me to look for some you guys might like, tell me now."

Everyone wants some.

He and Elwing spend most of their days just walking on the coast. It's empty of people. Once in a while she goes off to see Celegorm in Orome's forest nearby. Erestor visits them at times, and Elwing makes him look for neat seashells too, but he seems to like it a lot. He tells Earendil that Galadriel is demanding he eat with her and Celeborn all the time in her town, where he's staying, despite it embarrassing him, since in the old days elves didn't mix ranks at meals.

Nelyo seems to like being on the water, as does Finno. There's something special about being there, he thinks. By the fresh wind and clean air, by the pure ocean. It makes you feel good.

Chapter Text

So they live on his ship.

He's a fan, he likes everything about being on it. It's pretty private, which is nice, but if they need something they can go to the land of Galadriel.

His ship is beautiful, if he says so himself. It's his refuge, in a way.

It's all white, and has pretty sails, and he keeps it very nice, and works on it all the time. There's always something to do. When there's not, he goes sailing for fun [in the water, not the sky as per Elrond's request], or looks for shells on the shore [alone or with Elwing]. Galadriel's elves bring him food and stuff, so at times he goes over there [solo or with others] to ask for something, or eat, or get supplies, or even to hang out with her. Elwing is her friend, so once in a while they do that.

At times the elves come to his ship from Thranduil's area and Galadriel's to hear Maglor play.

Nelyo and Finno go stay in Galadriel's little kingdom -- Celeborn goes on another trip to the new lands across the sea to the west, and also Feanorean servants come from Elrond's city to stay over there in Galariel's area and serve them, making it more comfortable for Nelyo.

Glorfindel comes and stays in Galadriel's place too, and visits them at his ship all the time. It's enjoyable to have his company for a spell, and it's also amusing to see him and Maglor verbally spar for fun.

Earendil can breathe here, on the water, and relax.

The air is fresh and salty, the sound of the waves and sometimes birds is always there in the background, reliable. Seeing the ocean makes him feel more at peace.

He likes the tide, the rocks, the surf, the shore. The rocky shingle beaches, the sandy beaches. The dunes.

It's so different from being in the elf capital, where it's packed with people. Even as a boy in Gondolin, the three of them lived pretty much alone in very spacious areas -- and when they went outside, it was beautiful and empty-ish there too. Once in a while Turgon, grandfather, came to see them. But mostly he spent time with Idril and Tuor, not Earendil.

New Rivendell is much more spread out and integrated with nature, which he prefers. There are many open, empty spaces for simply 'nothing'. A lot of the land is just unstructured, randomly everywhere. There seems to be little rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes on his walks there he sees almost no one, which is nice.

At the coast he likes the seals, dolphins, sand coins, porpoises and seabirds. The seagrasses in the water. [He doesn't like to eat samphire, like some elves do.] At times Elwing's falcon visits him on his ship, clearly just saying 'hi'.

Being on the water relaxes his mind, his everything.

At home in new Rivendell, he often walks out to the waterfalls, or around by all the elf-made ponds and lakes, just to be near water there, and feel that water-comfort once more.

Elrond eventually treks over to his ship from home say hello, with Gil-Galad, who still loves sailing and the water, and Cirdan [ditto.] "I hope you've got some time to talk," Elrond tells him, looking sly, "because the new stories of 'more elves on boats' are pretty funny."

"Yeah?" he asks, as they walk on the shore together.

It's a nice day, not too cloudy or windy. But there are the fresh breezes of the sea present, which he likes.

Cirdan and Gil-Galad are currently sailing his ship for a bit, on their own. He thought they might like it. Elwing is off with Galadriel in her treehouses, and Maglor is over there too, seeing his brother and Finno.

"Some of the Noldor have started trying to build their own dinghys, others are going on the ships of the Teleri, and being respectful. Feanor has apparently invented other forms of water-travel vehicles, and is having Amras and Amrod try them out for him," Elrond explains.

The air smells sweet and salty and refreshing as they walk.

He likes the noise of the sea, the waves forever coming onto the shore, see out into the distance of just water. It's so comforting.

His early learning with Cirdan about sailing had been such a solace to him -- sure his world had collapsed and he felt hysterical, but he had mother and father, and Elwing, too, and his sailing lessons. He had been upset of course by what had happened, but he had so much. A kind teacher, loving parents who protected him, and his own lady. His destined love interest.

And she had even said nice things to him! That they were fated to be together, that they would do important things together. He liked the 'together' part. Not only another higher person of blood, but a woman -- and one who liked him. That part of it all was heaven, back then.

He feels at home on his ship. It's his escape, his moving [well, and flying too, technically] fortress.

It's funny how new Rivendell is comforting to him in a way no other elf town is -- because of the waterfalls, and their roar. It soothes him, to hear the noise of the water, whether here by the ocean or in new Rivendell. The other elf towns don't have this level of moving water. [Olwe's place doesn't count because he'd rather stay on his ship than stay in his town.]

Elrond continues, as they walk more, "He also built a bunch of floating contraptions for elves to lay on and enjoy the sunlight or moonlight, on the water. Like minature boats, I suppose."

He stops, and Earendil pauses. "I'm going to make a sandcastle," Elrond informs him, a propos nothing, and sits down on the sand [despite his nice robes], and does so.

Earendil sits down too, and helps him. It's kinda fun, honestly. In this, Elrond is no genius. He's a regular person, not good at trying to use sand as an ad hoc building material without artificial help [like mixing stuff into it to make it more malleable, etc.] Earendil isn't good either.

Maglor comes back to the coast later that day, along with elves bringing food and drink for them.

Thranduil gave Elrond a crate of wine, and the elves that travel with him carry some along, so then Maglor and Elrond try it as they eat together on the shore. Elrond goes back to town after having a repast with them, and then Earendil convinces Maglor to go fishing with him. He's not great at it.

They use one of the little tiny sailboats at the dock, and some of the gear and tackle stored there in simple buildings by the shore, and Maglor tells him, "I could sing something to lure the fish to us."

"Really?" he asks. That seems specific.

"It's easy to use magic for different aims," Maglor explains, holding his fishing pole and peering into the water. "Obviously I've mostly tried using it for bad ends."

"Let's try good, together," Earendil ventures, and Maglor looks over and smiles at him.

"This is not very fair," Maglor says, and looks away again, out at the water. "I feel consoled at losing Elrond's brother because I have you two as well, now."

Earendil shrugs to himself.

The boat floats around a bit as they hold their poles in the water. It's partially cloudy today, so Maglor has on extra cloaks, but it's nice out. The sun shines once in a while.

"At least I have Elwing back," he says. "And my parents are okay -- my father isn't dead. I lived in fear of it, in the inevitability. Before. And for me, too. It is a tragedy my mother choose him. Even though he's a great guy."

Maglor puts a hand on his leg, beside him.

"I am sorry, child," he consoles him. "No one should have to live with those fears. All is well now, at least, for your father."

Other than all the mortals, who are all gone forever, he thinks. How deranged for Elros to pick that. At least Luthien probably wanted to escape her strange life as the only oddity in nature, and knew she had someone to go with away from the prison of immortal life.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Life isn't so bad. I got to meet Elrond, and he only mildly resents me and Elwing now. I like the improvement. And it's fun to hang out with everyone, and I like my house. And I like you. There are good things. And you are well again, too. That's nice."

And Nelyo is recovering from his life in safety and peace, which is positive, he thinks, but does not say, not wanting to upset Maglor, who still acts like his brother's keeper [with Finno], honestly.

"Elrond loves you both, I am certain of it," Maglor tells him seriously. He sets his fishing pole down and lays back into the boat on the blankets that are stacked there. "He has often wished to set things in motion that would please you both."

"It was nice of you to tell them we weren't bad, when they were young," Earendil says, looking down at him. "Thanks."

Maglor left the kids to figure that out on their own, which must have been easy. Elros probably got there faster, and Elrond probably believed Maglor too much for his own good, in that instance.

"The sins of Finwe and my father, and me and my brothers too, are not yours or Elwing's," Maglor tells him sternly. "They set this up. As did Thingol."

"Yeah," he agrees. He catches them some fish for a while, as Maglor watches and looks out at the sky from his relaxed position.

After they fish for a while, and -- well. More like Earendil fishes and Maglor falls into reverie on his soft resting place, beside him. But it's nice to just exist together, close by.

He looks very different, in his elf-lite sleep. When Maglor is awake, he seems powerful, regal, calm, loving, playful. When he's in his twilight rest, he looks much younger, more weak and delicate.

Eventually he gets them back to shore, and carries Maglor out of the vessel out onto the shore, with all the blankets. He sets him in the shade to rest until he's ready to wake from it naturally.

In the mean time Earendil sets up a fire, debones the fish and cleans them, and cooks the fish he caught -- Maglor did not catch anything. He didn't think he would; it was just for pleasure, to be on the water with him.

He comes to, stirring, and Earendil looks over at him. "Please tell me you're not going to eat that fish plain," Maglor informs him.

He raises his eyebrows. Maglor looks like he's thinking about sitting up, and then discards the idea.

"What's wrong with that?" Earendil asks.

"What about sauce," Maglor says obstinately.

He opens his mouth to debate it, and the merits of trying fish meat plain, but realizes that on his ship he acutally does have chests of 'extra food items'. These types of things are what Elrond sends him at the shore sometimes, so he puts them on his ship just to please him, and uses them up once in a while. But his ship is still out with Cirdan and Gil-Galad.

He closes his mouth.

"Well, I'm roughing it," he says finally.

They wait for the fish to cool down and try it with their fingers. "It's okay," Maglor decides.

Afterwards, they wash their hands in the sea. Maglor lays back down on the blankets, and says, "Come rest with me."

The blankets aren't actually super wide, so he's not totally on it, but that's okay.

Elwing flies over to them, he can sense her. She turns into a person-shape when she gets there, at their side. "What about me?" she says, and crawls up on top of their legs.

They both laugh.

She goes and lays on the other side of Maglor. On a blanket or bed, they're all the same height. Usually Earendil towers over everyone, which can feel weird at times. But now, he doesn't have to [literally] look down at either of them. He can look at their faces head on. It's nice.

He lays against Maglor's side, who pets Earendil's arm with his hand. It feels nice. Elwing migrates back over to Earendil's side, and lays on his back. It's like being close, protected on every side, from every angle.

It's like being in a sandwich of them. It feels good.

Maglor always smells good. He and Elwing's presence always makes him feel more relaxed. They both give him [mental, emotional] strength through osmosis, somehow.

He can literally feel them replenishing his soul's energy. Elrond's treatments have helped too, draining away his old pain and letting him become an empty shell for them to put love into. Almost like how you'd plant a flower in a pot and it would blossom, if you took care of it.

Elwing has actually gotten around Maglor's strict gender rules by being an object around him, at times. Anyone can hug a blanket, or pillow. It's harder when the person in question [her] looks like a super gorgeous lady that radiates beauty and magical allure.

Elwing has never been as glowingly beautiful as she is now, but Earendil could often see it before, when her magic fluctuated. She was pretty before, now she's probably the hottest person to ever live, other than Luthien.

Luthien seemed like she was a bit too energetic, in his opinion. He has no desire to do crazy, dangerous things. [He only did the stuff he did cause he had to, not cause he wanted to.] Elwing does lively stuff, sure, but it's more like exploring ecosystems or looking at animals and talking to them, or flying around looking at all the elves and spying on what they're doing. Normal stuff.

"You know, the ocean isn't so bad, maybe," Maglor tells him later, when the three of them are hanging out on his ship before bedtime.

He still won't be in the room when Elwing changes, despite her doing it instantaneously. [He says he is sure there must be an immodest moment, that should be only between spouses; it's apparently irrelevant that he can't see it, that it's not visual.]

The inside of his ship is rather fancy, nowadays. Strangely palatial. Elrond and Maglor have really spruced it up over time, with the things they've suggested and bought for him, for the ship, and even Glorfindel has picked out stuff for it. His cabin has beautiful art in green, black, white, blue and silver all over it, and big fancy carpets. There are big grandiose tuffets, that look more like art than functional footstools. Lots of soft blankets in blue and white hues are piled on the bed, and there are too many pillows.

He half suspects Maglor got him all those super soft pillows just for when he comes over to his ship, and rests in reverie there, or just lays there because it's comfortable. Of course some of Maglor's harps are in a big chest [built into the wall, there are tons of them, since they are easy to keep locked, so stuff wouldn't spill out or break during a storm or something], too. This way he doesn't have to keep lugging them all over constantly.

Elrond gave him some books to keep on his ship [he almost said 'what for?', puzzled, but caught himself at the last second ... though Elrond seemed to get what he was thinking, and looked amused, at the time.] Admittedly, there have been some times when he actually does look at the books, just out of wondering what they are.

But it's much more fun to get one out when Maglor is there with him and Elwing, and have him read to them. That's the more enjoyable way to hear a story, or a history, or whatever a book's about.

Other elves he's close to [like Cirdan, and even Gil-Galad too] often send him newly invented, shelf-stable food to keep on his ship that's interesting. He likes that.

They also give him rare wine and alcohol bottles, which the ones who really know him explain is for them all when they're on there. He finds that very amusing. The elves love their wine and spirits very much.

Alcohol doesn't seem to effect elves unless they have huge amounts. They often appear to drink it all the time, practically to the point of having a morning bath scotch, and then going on from there.

The walls of all the cabins below deck are now covered with elaborate, super detailed tapestries of non-normal art -- yes, Glorfindel comissioned the new Rivendell textile artisans to make them. They are like big splotches of different colors. He kind of likes it. It's all very luxuriant. Before he kept his ship pretty empty, not bothering to make it look nice, after the first set of stuff from Cirdan got old and decayed away.

It's so refreshing to be here on his ship with just the two of them, with Maglor and Elwing.

Back in any of the elf towns, Maglor still deals with elves for them, talking to them, ordering stuff from them, tipping them -- when Elwing and Earendil have gone alone to Tirion without him, Maglor sends gold on ahead beforehand to Ara and Nolo for any servants who would be given it [in that case, also by Maglor, if he were there with them, for serving the two of them; he handles all that for him ... Earendil's's not entirely sure how the elf economy works, to be honest. It seems crazy from his outside vantage point.]

"Maybe?!" Elwing challenges, and bops him on the nose with a finger. "The ocean is awesome. I know you've seen my rooms full of shells at home. ... Unrelated question, do you think Elrond would build me another house for just storing more shells of mine?"

Maglor gasps in laughter, and Elwing insists to him that this is no laughing matter, smiling.

"You should ask each elf leader to build you a house in their area," Maglor finally catches his breath and says. "Then you can stash them all over."

He's just joking, it's funny.

The next day Elwing tells Earendil in the morning, while Maglor is still in his reverie-dozing, "I asked the people in new Doriath, who are still here and didn't leave with Melian and Thingol, to make me a house for my shells where they live. I don't want Elrond to think I'm a hoarder."

Earendil shrugs, after he gets over a moment of shock.

"I think he comes by that honestly," Earendil muses. "You and me too keep certain types of stuff. And so does my father, with his room of just swan figurines."

"I'm not as angry now with the elves who saved me," Elwing explains to him. "And they're the ones that stayed here. I'm not always sad to be alive, anymore. Maybe they wouldn't annoy me if I saw them in passing. I guess time will tell."

He nods.

Elwing has a different relationship to the Doriath elves than he does to the Gondolin elves. His parents [and then Glorfindel] saved him, while his grandfather [and his stupid daughter] doomed them all. So he has a slight connection to Gondolin.

Elwing's family was killed when she was a baby due to Dior's idiocy in the face of true danger [ie the kinslayers.] She has no tie to Doriath.

So Elwing was saved by people she didn't really know, who were random Doriath elves; Earendil was luckier, being with his parents the whole time.

Months after that starts the Doriath elves start making her stuff, and she doesn't know what to do with it, so she explains it all to Elrond, asks for advice, and adds, "Also, do you want some life size statues of silmarils? They made some for me. That's weird, right?"

Elrond looks as [politely] horrified as Earendil feels.

Thankfully there's a bright spot when Nerdanel has the statue of Elwing she sculpted and painted delivered to her house in new Rivendell. It does look like her quite a bit, and insanely, it seems like it's glowing -- Nerdanel's accompanying letter explains it's special paint, that reflects light and absorbs it as it simultaneously endlessly enmanates it.

Elwing likes it.

There are stars all around statue-her, looking like they glow, not just her; it's great artistry.

"I feel like I know what it's like to have a twin, now," she tells Idril when she and Tuor come visit new Rivendell. [He leaves his ship over on the west coast and goes home after a while.] She poses next to her statue for [funny] effect. "Maybe I shouldn't say that to Elrond. Though I almost feel Luthien is my twin, really. I know she's not. But it seems like it. She's more impressive than me, but I made better choices. And Earendil is way better than her dude, and more handsome."

Earendil puts a hand to his face in self-consciousness as his parents agree that they can't imagine any boy more handsome than him.

He eventually leaves them looking at her statue, and wanders off around town. Feanor is there currently, visiting Maglor again. After his poisoning, he keeps coming to see him often -- except now it's to comfort Maglor after his panic attack before.

Maglor seems very embarrassed about it and keeps insisting he's fine, to no avail. Nolo and Ara come too, and even often come with Feanor to talk to Maglor. Their excuse, all three of them now, Earendil's heard, is that Ara wants to start a new music school for elves and wants Maglor's advice on curriculum, how to teach people that stuff, what to include, what to not include in terms of history, composers, songs. Etc.

Since Feanor is seeing Maglor in Elrond's study like usual [with his step- brothers], Elrond has relocated to his 'second home' of the library. Earendil has a feeling the book room comes before any room of Gil-Galad's, amusingly.

He walks through the depths of the library to get there. There are lots of different areas in it.

The floors are all totally covered with thick woven carpets that show different 'grounds' in art, in a sense -- like grass, dirt, a stream, marble, engraved stone flooring, painted floor tiles. That kind of thing, just all in wool, all giant rugs with these realistic designs on them.

The ceilings are all painting with beautiful stars. Earendil doesn't look closely at it, not wanting to know if 'his' [stolen] star of the silmaril Elwing had that Luthien and Dior and them kept as weird thieves is there.

He walks past the area with big maps everywhere, displayed, from different areas and periods of history, an area for child elves to come play and read 'baby' books specifically, which includes toys and blankets, stuff like that, an area for young adult elves and books for that age, books arranged by topic that are current on technology and artisan processes [like 'how do I make a shirt', what's the latest elf tech on it; there are no guild secrets here at all, in this town], books from older time periods [that haven't yet disintegrated, so copies of those ones too], special reading rooms that are open to all, and private reading rooms, like Caranthir's and Elrond's, kept closed when they are not occupying them.

Alongside the enormous library complex is also an area for the copying of books, since they decay over time.

Since Elrond rescued Maglor's people and was merciful in the extreme to them, he can't imagine he has a lack of volunteers to do book copying -- Earendil's seen some of these people before, and they are very heavily muscled for elves. They must be real warriors who volunteer out of love for Elrond only.

It's a pretty huge place.

The library walls are all covered in paintings and tapestries and other art is interspersed around [statues, etc] that conveys the topic of the books in every area. There are basic medical books in here, Elrond told him once, but the healing complex has it's own crazy giant library.

Even now, the dwarves send some of their most unsolvable medical cases to Elrond [they ask him to come to their lands if the dwarf in question can't travel to him, otherwise they come over to his town.]

Thankfully Elrond knows a lot about mortal medicine for Tuor -- and also all the rest of them with higher blood, of course. Elwing is barely mortal compared to Earendil and Elrond, who have more mortal blood.

Maglor too is learned in 'how to handle partial elves', even more than Idril or Nimloth, though Nimloth learned from Luthien and Beren, he knows. But only for a few scant years. Then Maglor and his brothers killed most people in Doriath.

[Maglor actually still has 'I'm a monster' moodswings at times, Glorfindel explained to him when he came to see him one day and couldn't. Then he realized that all the other times they told him that Maglor didn't 'feel good', they must have been lying part of the time, and it was this instead. He won't even see Glorfindel when he's upset about it, and now Earendil can tell instantly from Glorfindel's behavior, if this is happening. Maglor also then won't see any of his victims, though Earendil kind of thinks they were also sometimes his torturers, due to the oath-curse, so he doesn't go see Elwing or Earendil then. It's very annoying, like being punished for someone else's problems/crimes. It's not fair. They understand, and have forgiven him, but he hasn't forgiven himself. No one any longer thinks the Feanoreans like topheths, or want to go to war again. All the elves seem pretty much at peace with the past, as far as he can tell, at least.]

Eventually he gets to Elrond's private library room.

He knocks and peeks in, since the door is partially open, and Elrond bids him enter.

"Father," Elrond greets him from a small mountain of books. "How are you?"

He shrugs. "Everyone's busy. So I'm just walking around, really."

Elrond smiles.

He looks like a guy version of Elwing, really. Elwing has told him before that she knows Elrond looks just like Dior did -- because she could see images and memories of him in the minds of all the elves around her, before she left Sirion.

Elwing is off with Celegorm and her brothers -- and that woman. He won't call Arhedel his relative, or by her name if he can help it, despite his part Noldor blood. He refuses to think of it. Same for Turgon, more and more, these days.

"Do you want to come with me and look at the water?" Elrond suggests, looking very desirious to, so he agrees.

Elwing recently worked with Feanor to invent diving stuff, so she and Celegorm could dive easier to see the cool ocean stuff like corals and all that.

"Follow me," Elrond tells him, and leads him down a million hallways. They are covered in greenery and smell good; plants are everywhere, weirdly. Even though the paths start heading downwards.

It takes forever to walk all the way, and then they go even deeper into the cool earth, and then finally into a giant underground room that is like a glass fish bowl or tank -- but as big as a real life lake.

It's insane to see.

There are tons of creatures in it; new Rivendell has two types of lakes, the ones that are just neat to see, and the ones of specific fish and sea creatures to harvest and eat. This is one that's just pretty.

"All the ponds here have this base level, and are connected by hallways," Elrond explains. After a bit they go explore many of them together.

In this pond there are turtles, a million different types, sizes and colors of fish, and some giant starfish that has creepy thorns all over it. There are sea anemones of different colors, sea slugs of bright hues, and giant clams.

Personally, he likes the corals and sponges best. Some look like crazy plants, some look like weird vases. He likes soft corals, but also some stony corals.

Some of his favorite ponds are the ones with corals. Over time, he's learned all about them. Elrond's library megacomplex has some books on them too, that he's looked at. He likes the acanlords, rainbow chalice corals, giant mushroom-like ones, torch ones, xenia, capnella, and on. He thinks the montipora's strange thin, twisted sheets are beautiful.

He's not stupid, he and Elwing know lots of coral is poisonous -- perhaps even more so/are for them, too. Like zoas, and toadstool corals.

There are tropical fish too, in weird colors and shapes, and he likes seeing it all so clearly down here. Thankfully the hallways down here, below the surface of Aman, are designed so that you think you're just in an underground forest, instead of being sterile, empty and boring.

The hallways are super well lit, and are large. The walls of them are covered with brightly-colored art of marine scenes, and sea life, and there are loads of shrubs, bushes, vines, flowers and other plants everywhere down here, making him think of Elrond's people's 'night gardens'.

The passageways, he learns as he now goes on walks down there all the time, after this, often smell like greenery, not just like lakes/ocean/water. There are areas full of gardenias, some mockorange flowering folliage, some abelia pink blooms. The flowers are always against a backdrop of lots of green plants, so he's seen many areas of sweet lilies with hosta.

There are white petunias and nicotiana flowers, lots of jasmine all over, clematis and thunbergia florets.

Earendil knows of all the other ponds from his walks up above on the land in new Rivendell-- ones with little sea otters [they're cute, with their little hands], and ones with strange things like sting rays. Some have starfish, an octopus, corals, seaweeds, eels and jellyfish. There are striped kuhli loach in some, frogs in the more shallow ponds, and some of just squid.

There are some squid that are bred to be cooked and eaten by the elves, but it seems one pond has squid just hanging out. Earendil later learns this is because Elrond thinks they are cool. Apparently squid have teams and send out a scout to investigate stuff.

Others only have animals to breed and then take to a fishmonger. There are ponds of mostly only salmon, or only shrimp. Some have just lobsters, scallops in their shells, different types of crabs, oysters. Sturgeon of course, for caviar. There are lots of specific ponds for this type of thing.

"This is the bottom of our elf-made lakes here in new Rivendell," Elrond explains to him. They both look up at it. It looks amazing from the bottom.

Typically Earendil has only seen these from the top. He never knew there was some part down below, deep in the earth. There are all sorts of sea creatures in it, and sea plants. The whole thing is enormous.

It looks like magic, but he knows it's just engineering. The lights down here make the water seem strange, illuminating it in a strange way, shimmering as sea creatures move around in the water. It's like a giant version of the small elf-built aquariums he's seen before.

"These elves of Maglor's, what can't they do, wow," he murmurs, astonished at it all. "How sure are we that I'm related to this group?"

Elrond laughs, and it echoes in this unearthly space. Down here there are tons of lights everywhere, Feanor-style lamps. Up at ground level, the water looks normal -- it's such a deep lake that it gets dark like normal at a certain depth and then down here at the real bottom it's all lit up.

"We can swim in it," Elrond tells him, "look -- "

He points and insanely there's an elf in there, in the water, with some mask on their face that must let them breathe.

" ... Elves need to breathe, right?" he checks, just to make sure.

"Yes," Elrond says, amused. "It's some invention, a breathing apparatus for being underwater."

Earendil's heard of it from Elwing, but hasn't seen it.

The part-elf in question suddenly appears before them in the water as an image, she's not really in there body-wise. "Hi," she says, and Elrond jumps, astonished.

"Hey," Earendil tells her. He's not as surprised, having always been with her, during his life.

"I may have slapped Turgon's sister," she tells Earendil. "Sorry. I didn't like what she said."

"What'd she say?" Elrond asks her, intrigued.

"Just some stuff about how it's not fair everyone blames her, and that she gets no family now, blah blah blah. I got annoyed," Elwing admits. "And yes, I know I have no leg to stand on. Also, I may have hit her so hard -- by accident -- that she's in Mandos."

They both stare at her, openmouthed.

"Well, at least it's only the first time you've gotten angry with an elf like that," Earendil says, trying to be positive. He doesn't mind her being dead for a sec, elves always come back anyway. "And not the hundredth. That's good at least."

Aredhel returns from Mandos pretty much instantaneously, with an important message for the elves -- because Mandos is empty right now, totally, [and she was spiritually healed before the remaking for all that time down there] all she did while temporarily dead was talk to Mandos. And he told her at one point how elves can kill themselves, permanently.

When she comes back she tells everyone. Apparently Mandos thought it was too evil to hide this new info from the elves forever, forcing them to exist against their will. They basically can go to Mandos and go one step further than Miriel did, letting their souls dissolve into nothingness.

And so some elves choose to die, forever, knowing this is technically possible. Before apparently you were simply ejected when you were healed, typically, since a disembodied soul has the inbuilt natural desire to be in a body again, all elves wanted it. [And some elves were allowed to come back really fast back then, bypassing the 'heal first' initiative.]

Thingol does, obviously. [Melian starts taking care of Nellas, because she doesn't take it well.]

Sadly, Aredhel does not take this option, probably due to her life with Elwing's brothers. Nimloth is nice to her, Elwing's told him, apologizing to Earendil on her mom's behalf, but that's okay. As long as they stay away from him, he can pretend. That she doesn't exist.

That Gondolin never fell.

That he never found out Ecthelion was dead, and bawled in front of all the elves as they ran for their lives, and then got to Sirion. It's stupid, but he hates that they saw him like that; yes, even though he was a tiny kid. He prefers privacy.

Turgon stays alive too, which is annoying. Sigh.

He is a convenient distant target to hate. At first Earendil used to visit him, almost hoping to shake off his intense feelings of trauma re Gondolin through some boring reacclimation in a new place ... but Turgon didn't help with that. It seemed like he made him feel worse anyway. So he stayed away after that.

In the next few days, he goes to Feanor's house with Elwing to watch them work on their inventions. Nerdanel lets him visit her sculpture rooms.

He walks around looking at ones she's almost done with; it can be creepy, because they look so real.

Eventually they eat together -- Feanor, Nerdanel, Elwing and Earendil. It's not as fun as at home, but he manages. The food is filling, substantial. Feanor and Elwing talk nonstop about their invention work, and Nerdanel interjects all the time. Earendil listens and has some sandwiches and milk.

Then he and Elwing take off for home together, with her as a bird on his shoulder.

After a short journey on a horse through the nice green wilderness, they get back into new Rivendell only to find the elves involved in some type of 'bread' festival.

"They've got a holiday for everything," Elwing tells him, still a bird riding on his shoulder.

Elrond invites them to do the bread stuff, so they do. Later on, they all eat dinner together, and he learns that Gil-Galad is actually out living at Cirdan's manse by the water, on the east coast of Aman.

"He's helping the elves learn to build ships," Elrond explains. "I go and visit, at times. But I have no desire to be involved in actual construction. I don't think that's my forte."

... Building a bunch of ships with Gil-Galad right on the coast actually sounds fun.

After the meal, he asks Elrond privately if he could go and join Gil-Galad, would he like it, does he think?

"But would they bother you?" Elrond asks, concerned, in his study, alone together. "I'm sure all the elves would jump at the chance to try to beg you for lessons, or something of that sort. You are the expert on this."

Earendil shrugs. "I can say I'm busy only building boats, and can't do more."

Elrond makes a hand gesture of defeat. "As you wish it. But you can always invent a reason you must be back here immediately, saying I mentally called to you. As an escape route, if you need one. "

"Thanks," he agrees.

Next stop is to ask Maglor to come. And Glorfindel -- he doesn't want to act like he's stealing Glorfindel's guy, what with the way he and Elwing are always spending time with him.

He goes and talks to them together in Glorfindel's private rooms. They both easily agree to come, and Maglor adds, "This is a good way for Finno and Nelyo to get to enjoy Tirion nearby, being comfortable in Finno's suite there, while we can easily travel to see each other. I'll go let them know."

He goes off, and Earendil stays, wanting to talk to Glorfindel.

"What's up?" he asks, seeing his hesitance.

"Me and Elwing aren't trying to steal Maglor from you," he says bluntly, wanting it out there in plain words. "We just like him too. That's all."

Glorfindel looks taken aback and then laughs heartily for a while.

Finally he dries his eyes and gets himself under control. He smiles at him. "Oh buddy. You guys are little kids to Maglor. He couldn't get with you even if he wanted to. It's too gross, the idea of being with a child, in that way. He's not like that. He loves you like a parent. There's nothing to steal either way. We are all different in our relationships with him."

Then he makes an unelven shrug-like motion, his bright golden hair tossed to the side. "But it's sweet of you to say it. So thank you."

" ... I just didn't want to hurt your feelings," Earendil explains, and Glorfindel says he understands.

Everyone gets ready, and then they set out for the east coast. His ship is still docked on the west coast, but that's fine, because they can all stay in Cirdan's big house with Gil-Galad. [Elrond already used osanwe to discuss it with his king-boyfriend, who was pleased by the idea.]

Cirdan is currently out by the new two trees again, but is going to join them eventually, maybe. No one begrudges that, of course.

They ride out to the coast, and Gil-Galad greets them in work clothes, looking much happier than he does at home in his formal clothes, honestly. "I hear you wish to help me in this work," he says, greeting Earendil effusively. "There's nothing more fun than this."

"Yeah," Earendil agrees. This and sailing, it's the best.

They all put their stuff in their rooms in Cirdan's house, and then he goes to work with Gil-Galad. "They're small vessels," he explains to him, showing him the work area he has set up.

They work for a while, and then take a break for lunch over at the house. Glorfindel is of course swimming and all that, while here. He enjoys that type of thing, and water sports. Maglor stays close to the house and writes music, and then plays for them after meals, during their post-meal rest time.

The food is simple still on the coast, like shrimp salad sandwiches, lobster rolls [more plain than at home, but still good], seared scallops. It's pretty satisfying, just not mindblowing.

Maglor playing excites all the elves newly at the shore of course, and they come to listen. [He does not sing for them, just harps -- Earendil wonders if it's because the last time he used his singing/more powerful aspect of his voice there, he was shoving people into the sea, or worse, or killing them.

[Celegorm is there too, as he is working on hunting sea creatures on his own new tiny boat as a recompense to Olwe, for the kinslaying. Joke's on them, Earendil thinks, because Celegorm just loves to hunt in general. It's not like some punishment for him. Weirdly, he goes to Earendil to ask if he thinks Maglor wants to see him, instead of just going right to Maglor.

That's an impossible question to answer, of course.]

They go back to work after Maglor finishes playing, after they snap out of it. They walk back over the building area, having to pick their way past throngs of dazed elves sitting on the ground, who have been affected by Maglor's music.

First they work on the frame, the bones of a new small boat, and then go from there, slowly adding more. Because these are very small sailboats, they are quick to make [compared to a ship as big as Earendil's, that is.]

It's satisfying work, and when they're done with a ship, they have dock elves rig it up with sails, and then sail it over to another area for the receipients [basically Noldors] to take possession of it.

They work all day, and then later Glorfindel comes to them [drying his wet hair with a towel] and declares, "You've been summoned to dinner. I think you can guess who said, 'Don't make me come out there, you tell them that. I will give all this food to the seagulls if they don't get in here.' So I'd get a move on."

They all laugh, and walk back with him to Cirdan's mansion. First they take showers and redress.

Inside, Maglor is indeed waiting for them. Because Maglor brought his own servants from new Rivendell with him, the food at night is closer to the food at home, in a sense. He knows the dock elves are pleased with this gesture of respect from Maglor -- that he doesn't want them to have to work on food for him, given the past.

Of course the involvement of Feanoreans allows them to observe the cooking process and/or do it all themselves, so Maglor can okay the food for them.

[When he and Elwing go to Tirion without Maglor, he sends Ara and Nolo a list of what they should have made to eat for every meal, in great, great detail. And tells them it is their wish for no deviation to be made from this, and if there is, they must be told before the food is presented. Of course the two kings hasten to accede to this, so they are able to eat all the food there without having to worry about being accidentally poisoned by anything.]

It's nice, to see Maglor there after his work. He has been writing music the whole time, of course, like always.

"There you all are," he says, as they come in. "Don't work too hard," he chastens them. "You must take rest, and sustenance."

They sit and eat; Maglor already had elves bring in the food and beverages, because Earendil and Elwing [who sometimes shows up] hate to be waited on and have extra elves around them.

During the meals, Gil-Galad talks to Maglor and Glorfindel, and Earendil mostly listens, because he wants to eat. He drinks amaranthine chicha morada, and has a lot of seafood paella; he can tell these two items have been made by elves at home in new Rivendell, from the taste of it.

Earendil never eats stuff like ceviche or aguachile, even if it's offered. There are many foods elves often have that he simply chooses not to partake in.

Then afterwards, Maglor rests for a moment, and then plays again for them all and the peoples on the docks. When he finishes, there is only the noise of the water.

He rouses Earendil, and goes with him to his room, where they find Elwing, who's suddenly there. "You should bring Glorfindel here," she says. "I like watching him hug you."

Maglor looks like he bit into a bergamot fruit.

"Absolutely not," he decrees. "I can barely bring myself to be with him when I'm alone, there's no way I can do it in front of other people, much less children."

"We're like totally old now," Elwing argues, which is true. However, her word choice isn't really backing that up strongly, he thinks. "It's not like I haven't seen this as a bird and also in your memories a zillion times before."

Maglor goggles at her for a moment, shocked.

"I don't want to leave Glorfindel out," she says.

He opens and closes his mouth silently for a while, apparently trying to process this. Earendil doesn't mind the idea of Glorfindel being there; he's already seen Earendil sick and upset while Maglor takes care of him, he knows. Maglor had needed him to help physically pick Earendil up for different reasons [like getting into the bath, etc], because Maglor's not strong enough to do it, but Glorfindel is.

"Well ... we could try it," Maglor says. Then he looks at Earendil. "And what do you think? Is this some ambush? Did you already think this as well?"

Earendil smiles.

"No," he explains. "But I don't mind. Then you would have him there to fake-sleep next to on the bed at night, so you wouldn't be alone. I hate to think of you like that by yourself. It looks so weird."

Maglor considers this. "That's normal for elves, of course. But fine. This is only on a trial basis," he insists. "And you need a massage first."

"You know I don't really," he says, and Maglor nevertheless shepherds him to lay down on the bed and take his sleep shirt off. "I'm fine," he adds, from the pillow.

Maglor is very good at manhandling him in his delicate way. It's hard to say no to a nice rubdown, with the skin contact pouring comfort into his spirit, and feeling his kindly love for him. It's restorative.

He brushes his hair first, with a handmade brush from an artisan at home. Somehow it feels way, way, better than if he just perfunctorily brushed it himself.

Maglor likes to bring servants with them now when they go to the coast, he just has them stay in rooms a ways away from theirs in Cirdan's palace. This is unusual, even Earendil knows, but Maglor apparently justifies it to Cirdan et al but saying the three of them have weird needs and he wants his pages closer to him, especially since he doesn't want the shore elves to do anything for him specifically, because of the kinslaying.

"Life isn't about being 'fine'," Maglor argues, stratching his scalp lightly for a moment. "Not even for a regular person. Much less a royal. Life is about enjoying yourself, and figuring out what you like, and pursuing what makes you feel fulfilled. It's about having fun."

"Mhm," he acknowledges, because he's stroking his neck, and he knows he's about to start pressing into his shoulders aggressively, and it's going to feel amazing.

Elwing keeps herself and also her hands on him too during this, laying on top of him wherever Maglor isn't working on him.

It feels very good, it's like together they are a triple threat -- Maglor with his hands relaxing his muscles and his love radiating into his body, and Elwing comforting him with her presence, pressing down on him with the weight of her, and her romantic love for him flowing between them within their magical oswanwe-like connection.

Maglor indeed digs his hands into his shoulders and the base of his neck and he almost gasps because it feels so good, and also hurts, of course. But he's smoothing out his muscles, giving him relief after all his work. It feels amazing.

He rubs his arms, and hands [which feels very nice especially], and then works on his lower back for a while, digging into it with his hands. His hands are so incongruously strong, compared to what he looks like. After leaving him feel like jelly there, he moves on to do his legs and feet.

The feet part is so good. It almost feels like he's drugging him with pleasure. And then after, Elwing gets off of his back so that Maglor can pull a fresh cool sheet over him, and then she lays back down, half on top of him. And Maglor strokes his body lightly through the sheet; the backs of his arms, his legs, his back. It's overwhelmingly good.

After he comes back to his senses, Elwing demands Maglor do her. It's almost funny how he hesitates to touch her; they both like it, honestly -- Elwing likes to feel his platonic love for him flow through his hands into her, and Earendil likes to watch two of his favorite people be together like this.

"Just cause I'm a woman, you're not doing it the same as for him," she accuses him, as he tells her he has to do only a little for her, to respect the elf customs of propriety, when there's another elf's wife. "I'm not an elf. None of that applies here. If it's easier for you to deal with a guy, then that's fine. Here."

She gestures in a 'fine, here' movement, and then looks like a man. This must be what Dior looked like, kind of, he thinks. It's like her but masculine; it looks like Elrond a bit too.

Maglor stares at her, frozen in shock for a while.

"You look like Elrond," he comments.

"See? Easy," Elwing tells him, in her normal voice ... which sounds super weird coming from a Dior/Elrond-ish looking body. "Now do me. I'm a man now, so it's fine -- do you wanna see? I can take off these clothes."

Maglor waves a hand in a 'please spare me Eru' way, and tries to look away, horrified.

If Earendil had more energy, he'd start laughing and laughing.

"Fine," Elwing acquiesces. "My turn."

She takes her shirt off and lays down on the bed. She really does look like a man. He doesn't feel the same way about her if she doesn't look like herself, in a sense. He's never really desired a man's body.

Though to be honest, if the other higher blooded person he'd met in Sirion had been a male Dior descendent instead of Elwing, Earendil would have just proposed they be like co-rulers together, and never gotten with anyone. It would have been so lonely and horrible, but he could have never been with an elf woman. He is not an elf. And any child would be cursed with forever death.

He'd never do that to someone. Especially since they both probably would have died for real back before the valar let them live forever. Disgusting.

Maglor touches her easier now, which is amusing. He likes watching.

Elwing lets him feel her good feelings during this with magic, and yeah, it's incredible. Watching it is weirdly something he relates to himself kinda -- when Maglor does him he can't watch, he's experiencing it. But when he does Elwing, he can watch, and can think this is what he did to him a minute ago.

He gets to see how Maglor is gentle, and passionate, and does it all with care. And he knows he did it to him already. It's very relaxing, to watch it, after getting some.

Afterwards, Elwing wants Glorfindel to come over, so she turns back into a lady, and Maglor goes and explains her plan to Glorfindel privately, and then brings him into their room.

This mansion of Cirdan has very fancy rooms, with all nautical decor, of course. Mirrors made to look like portholes involving rope weirdly, model ships all over [small to enormous], buoys made of solid gold and silver, sculptures of sea creatures and lobster traps as art [often made out of precious gems.]

When Glorfindel comes in, he looks mellow and happy. He says to them, "He's insisting there's no foursome on the table -- are you sure? Take a look at me again."

Maglor goes speechless.

It looks very comical; Glorfindel is pleased with himself.

Elwing laughs and laughs, and so does he. Maglor finally slaps Glorfindel upside the head lightly [it's more like a touch-tap really, since Maglor both likes him and also won't do anything to his hands, since he keeps them pristine for harp playing], and demands he apologize to them.

Glorfindel does, smiling, and they all get ready to rest for the night.

"Come and lay down," Maglor tells them, so they get on the bed beside him. Glorfindel is already on his other side, glued to him, his nose pressed into Maglor's shoulder, totally unselfconscious.

The heavier curtains they already pulled shut, so that the light doesn't disturb their sleep; the elves won't be bothered, but they will, so they and Maglor always close them.

They lay there for a bit, and then Elwing plucks the harp string that helps them sleep with magic; these rooms of Cirdan's have comfy beds, not hammocks. Maglor is already in reverie, so they help Glorfindel tuck him in with sheets and extra blankets first, then all get under more sheets themselves.

It doesn't feel weird with Glorfindel there, he thinks. He doesn't really pay attention to Elwing or Earendil like a regular elf does. They are old hat to him. He is more interested in Maglor, they can tell.

The next morning, they wake up. Elwing and him talked in his dreams for a little bit, then slept in them. It's like sleep inception, it makes sleep even more satisfying for them. Glorfindel is already awake, he sees, after he unhands Maglor, where he was holding him in his sleep, and sits up and looks over. Maglor is not.

"I'll have them bring us some trays," Glorfindel tells them, and goes out of the room to call for breakfast.

Earendil and Elwing go over into the washroom and wash their faces and do all their morning ablutions.

Glorfindel has the elves leave their trays in a room next door, so as not to bother the two of them in their own chamber. "I wouldn't wait for him," Glorfindel tells him. "Sometimes he rests for a really long time, randomly."

Earendil agrees, so he and Elwing go eat together in the other space, while Glorfindel stays with Maglor's unconscious body.

There is a pot of oatmeal, and griddle cakes, and fried eggs, and a carafe of tea, and he and Elwing take their fill, and then she goes off to talk to the giant squids down deep in the ocean while he goes to work building more ships.

Apparently loads of elves want their own little skiffs, she informs him.

When he meets up with Gil-Galad at the build site, he tells him about it. "They're going to build their own Noldor docks," he explains. "This way everyone won't overwhelm this area, or crowd it too much."

They work together until they break for lunch, and do all this for many, many days. Maglor goes at times to Tirion to see his brother and Finno there.

At one point, he asks Maglor at breakfast [he came out of reverie this time before Earendil left to go start building; Elwing already left to go look at morey eels with Celegorm and Glorfindel went to go swimming [hopefully not by the eels, he thinks], kissing Maglor's cheek as he batted him away, playful, and Gil-Galad is already at work, he gets up early, usually], "Why don't you have Caranthir come and visit the shore?"

Maglor looks like he just slapped him, with that request. He primly sets down the tea he was drinking.

"We don't need Olwe trying to kill us all in revenge for whatever insults Caranthir casually tosses off," he says immediately. "It's best to keep most elves away from the rest of my family."

"He's not that bad," Earendil says, and goes back to eating some toast with peach jam.

Maglor shakes his head, mussing it up a bit; Earendil and Elwing actually brushed his hair for him, today. He had informed them that it felt strange, since he usually doesn't have anyone do that except Glorfindel back when he was extremely ill, so long ago.

Glorfindel had watched them do it, and had said, 'It's weird that I'm into this, right?'

And then Maglor had admonished him, which is clearly what he was aiming for. It's fun to watch them play.

"He is that bad," Maglor corrects. "Elves have complicated social rules, and he is unable to follow them. Like Celegorm. They are like random rabid dogs, or something. They cannot learn manners, or appropriate talk, or anything like that. Trust me, mother tried, and father did too, so long ago, at first."

"Well, me and Elwing don't do those things," Earendil points out. They really don't. "Any of those things."

Maglor looks amused.

"My dear, you are both higher beings, and royals many times over. No one is going to evaluate you two as if you were elites born here, like elves from Tirion. But my brother is indeed my father's son from here in Aman, and as such is judged by the rules that apply to him in our culture," he explains. "No one would expect you to know things you were never taught about a city you'd never heard of before; but my brother has no excuse. He is simply incapable of doing things correctly. No one looks at you and thinks you'll suddenly act like me -- of course not, you're not from my background. You didn't grow up here in Aman. Like if you tried to switch me and a warrior; I can't suddenly be able to slay a monster. It's just not going to happen. Music is my forte."

Earendil drinks some milk while he talks.

"But if it were to save Finno and Nelyo, you would do it," he argues.

Maglor rejects this, shaking his head. "No, I would try, but fail," he corrects. "I am no hero. And I am not good enough at power to use it like Artanis would. People are who they are. There is no changing things. But I would try, for Elrond, and you two, and Glorfindel. Maybe other people, but I feel like it'd be more out of duty, half-hearted, then."

He tries not to laugh.

Maglor talks for a while about how his family is permanently obnoxious as Earendil eats some eggs with shad roe.

At home they often eat scrambled eggs with truffles, which he likes. But actually there's lots of seafood there as well, of course, due to the artificial ponds and lakes; since Earendil eats a lot of it when he's at his ship, he doesn't always eat it at home too. Sometimes he likes to mix it up, so there he'll at times eat less seafood and more mint sauce with lamb, or crispy porkloin, or fried chicken, or beef tips in gravy.

"Well," Maglor concludes, "let this be a moment you give thanks you don't have my family. Because you'd be hard pressed to get a worse bunch of brothers."

"It seems nice that there are a lot of them, you'd never be lonely," Earendil says.

Maglor looks at him, seeming confused at the idea of 'being lonely'.

He's not surprised. Maglor's been with Nelyo for his entire life, other than his torture, and then death. And then he was with Elrond for almost the rest of his entire life, other than pre-rescuing Elrond/pre-toppling Sirion, and when he was 'dead-ish' on the shore.

"Trust me, we've got enough people here without my blood needing to show up," Maglor tells him. "I mean I'd even take Gildor over any of my own family. He's incredible, comparatively. I need a new set of unrelated siblings -- I'd start with him, then try to recruit Erestor. Maybe Finrod, but I don't have patience for him all the time."

"And me and Elwing," he proposes.

Maglor shakes his head. "I love you two with more than sibling-love. Well, other than Nelyo. But he's older, so it's different. He raised me, half the time."

"Yeah," he agrees, setting down his own cup. "Us too."

Maglor looks at him, tilting his head a little; a nonelven movement. "If only I could have been some lesser Daeron student, and met you and Elwing when you were young, and have been on your side from the start."

"That's no good," he reminds him. "Then who would rescue Elrond? We need you on the other side."

Maglor shrugs a little, looking melancholy. "It is hard, to be over there."

"We're both on Elrond's side now," Earendil proposes to him. "A third side. Then we can be together. We can all be together."

Maglor gets up, and walks to him and sits on his lap. Earendil puts his arms around him, to hold him steady.

"That is so," he agrees, and puts his little strong hand on his face. He smooths it against his cheek, and down over his neck. "I finally feel peace, now that I am on the right side. I am very weary. No one tells you that about being evil. It's so tiring. It makes me almost think that I know, in a facsimile, what it is to have a mortal strain in the blood, and yearn for it all to end."

Maglor leans forward against his chest, and lays his head against his shirt.

His hair is right there, up near his shoulder. He noses his hair, breathing in the scent of it. "If I have to stay, then so do you. I can't do it alone," Earendil finally tells him. "I'm not strong enough. I need you and Elwing."

"Well, then we are at an impasse," Maglor says, and sits back and looks at him, and smiles a little. "But it is not a bad one. At least I lived long enough to meet both of you. With that, I am pleased. But you best go, and not leave all the work to Gil-Galad, who shall complain mightily if you do."

Earendil smiles at him for a moment, and looks at his face, just to do it.

He has a very strong nose, a somber and sensitive face. His skin is very alabaster, like his mother's, but he lacks her freckles or red hair, which Nelyo has. He has a small chin, and a small frame bodily in general.

Strange, to think he knows the famous Maglor. Even now, he marvels at it.

He knows the guy who destroyed half their lives, and then saved the children. The famous harper; the famous killer. A voice he heard pray to him many times, before his temporary almost-death on the shore of middle earth.

Maglor is an elf of contradictions. He is complex, but often very clear and direct and straightfoward. He looks more like Elwing or Elrond than Earendil, who has slightly more pinkish skin, and is much, much taller and broader than him.

Earendil has a square jaw, bright blonde hair, looking more like Glorfindel than anyone else, in a sense; and they both have a weird glowingness.

It almost figures that he would like him so, since Maglor looks so much like Elwing, just without the otherwordly gorgeousness, and the extreme all over glow, and the ladyness.

"Okay, I should go," Earendil finally says, and Maglor gets up. "Eat something, or I'll tell Elwing she should tell Glorfindel that Elrond's secretly worried about you."

Maglor stares at him in surprise, almost gasping. "That's so devious," he says, as Earendil rises and gets ready to leave. "This must be Caranthir's influence on you. You're too innocent to think of that yourself."

"Not really," he says, amused. He comes over and leans down very far and hugs him for a moment, and presses his face into his soft, silky black hair. It smells a little like lavender. He straightens up and looks down at him. "Elwing and me have always been like that. See you at lunch."

He can hear Maglor saying 'I refuse to believe that' as he leaves.

Out in the hall are many boxes -- these are presents for him and Elwing from the Falmari in Alqualondë. When they first came to Aman, she went to them to wait there as Earendil spoke to the Valar; he had thought maybe if she was among elves they would hesitate to kill her for coming into Aman with him [the penalty was death, due to their blood, that they didn't even ask for.]

Also, Elwing had been worried she'd go crazy and try to kill the Valar, or at least hurt them. Earendil had felt crazy too, honestly. Those elves had been kind to Elwing, and to him, too. They had always made stuff for them and left it there at the shore tower house they built for both of them to live in.

He should thank them, he thinks.

He leaves the boxes where they are and walks out of Cirdan's uber-elegant mansion and over to the building site, where Gil-Galad has already gotten started. It's almost funny how he's so much more like Earendil than Elrond is, in this area of shipwork/sailing stuff.

But to be honest, he thinks, as they cut the wood, and then built the internal framing first, adding planking later, Earendil kind of likes Elrond the way he is. It's nice how he's so interesting, and smart, and impressive. And he doesn't want to be a figurehead, like Gil-Galad has always been, and still is, due to wanting to keep Elrond from having to do that type of work, which he hates.

Earendil even kind of likes his weird book obsession, and that healing is his talent. If Elrond were a warrior or sailor, everyone would endlessly compare him to Earendil and find him lacking. Instead he's great at his own stuff, that no one else is. Not even Maglor, either.

He cuts some wood and starts another frame for a boat -- the hull bottom, midship frame, dagger board case sides and corner braces. Then he centers the bottom, and epoxies it. After he trims he installs the sides, mid-ship frame, bow and transom.

He does lots of stuff, like putting in the gunwale rails, fitting everything in the dado, he does the braces, then the mast desk and thwart.

He's tried actually teaching Maglor the parts of a ship [since he's been on his all the time with him] but he literally cannot remember them. From the mizzen mast to the forecastle [said 'foaksul'] to the shrouds to jibboom to the orlop, he never picks it up.

If Maglor wants to refer to part of his ship, he describes it very literally. Elrond too simply does not seem able to pick up the argot of sailing, but then he imagines being a genius requires you to have a mind that's preoccupied with other things, presumably.

This all isn't really hard work, building these tiny boats. It just takes patience and attention.

This is the opposite kinda of when he rebuilds Vingilótë. He knows in Adûnaic they called it Rothinzil. That is extremely hard work, and takes a very long time.

By the time he gets back for lunch, he finds Elwing there with Maglor. The boxes are gone; Elwing magically took care of them, he's sure, sending the contents to their houses in new Rivendell.

"I'm tellling him all the cool pranks on the elves I have ideas for," she tells Earendil enthusiastically, as he and Gil-Galad walk in for luncheon. "Like what if I made all their shoes slide around like ice skates, despite no skates and no ice on the ground? That would be funny."

"I don't think the elves would like that," Earendil cautions her, taking a seat by her and Maglor. Cirdan has showed up recently, but he's busy teaching elves to sail. "They like to seem all perfect. They'd probably get angry and embarrassed."

She says mournfully, "Oh yeah, you're right."

He sees this concept in action the next day, when they all find out from Gil-Galad that Feanor and his step-brothers have shown up at the docks, after seeing Olwe.

Maglor looks practically grimace-y with displeasure, but Earendil thinks a lot of that is his own feelings of humiliation after how he totally lost it when he thought Feanor was going to die, poisoned to death.

"I'll go see them," Maglor says after a beat, to everyone's shock. Even Elwing feels shocked; and he can sense their shared surprise magically, somehow, intagibly between them.

He gets up from the breakfast table, and sweeps out.

Gil-Galad finally looks at the two of them. "Is that a good or bad thing?" he asks.

Earendil shrugs, unsure. Elwing says, "I think he wants to get it over with."

The three of them hustle over to the building area to work, and Elwing stays there with them, obviously waiting to see if they hear anything [screaming, explosions, that type of thing] from Maglor's meeting.

But after a while, Elwing says suddenly, "Oh, he's going to play for them. They all talked about how great he is at music. That's boring."

But it's kind, he thinks.

He can imagine Ara and Nolo wanting to build a good relationship with Maglor [and of course Feanor naturally has to be already proud of his infamous music skill/power], and he can also see Feanor wanting to be closer to Maglor -- and music is his number one interest, so. This is the only way to do that.

Indeed, as Elwing said, they start to hear his music from very far away. It sounds pretty still, even despite the distance.

Maglor returns at lunch, when they do, thankfully not looking grim. He looks fine.

"How's the building going?" he asks Earendil and Gil-Galad, sitting down at the table. Maglor drinks some soup [it's butternut squash with cinnamon, which means their home servants made it and brought squashes with them -- they've gotten all types of food to grow no matter what season it is] while they both tell him.

Earendil eventually has figured out that if he or others talk to Maglor at meals, he often eats while they talk. So they all keep talking, at that point, just to subtly help him in that way. Better to make it easier for him.

No one asks him what happened with his father, and step-uncles.

But then Elwing eventually says, "So what happened with all them elves? Do I need to spy as a bird and watch?"

Maglor looks amused, and smiles at her.

"It was well," he explains. "They just wanted to check out the new boat situation together. They were on their best behavior. After I said hello, it got awkward, of course, due to my crazy freakout a little while ago, so I asked if they wanted to hear me play at some point while they were here, and they tripped over themselves to agree," Maglor says dryly. "So I played. And now I'm free."

"Yay," Elwing says, making him laugh.

They have lunch together, and then Maglor plays for them like usual. That's good, because then the dock elves get twice as much of a performance as usual. That will please them all.

Then lunch ends, they get ready to return to work, and he hugs Maglor in his chair before he leaves. Maglor often puts a little hand on his arm when he does. It feels nice.

[He doesn't touch Elwing in public usually, because they both know how the elves love to stare at them -- and them touching is like an attraction. So they keep that only for private time. Not that he touches Maglor in public either, but it's less noteworthy in a sense, because Maglor may be famous for his crimes and his music, but he is not the glowing, alluring beacon that is Elwing.]

Earendil and Gil-Galad go work for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, Feanor and Ara and Nolo stay in Olwe's nearby palace for a spell, in the spirit of reconciliation; Elwing tells him with osanwe of their plans.

But Maglor is free, he thinks, as he works, cutting more wood.

Feanor cannot touch him now -- Maglor has Elrond, and Elwing, and Earendil too, and Gil-Galad, Galadriel and others. He is loyal to someone else now. Maybe they can meet now as equals, and have a different relationship, and not that of the old one of father-son. Or leader-follower, general-soldier.

Maglor is now far older than Feanor ever was, or Finwe, or his brothers. He seems more weary and elderly than them, at rare times, despite the remaking.

Mostly he seems to be gaining back his strength, after the Feanor poisoned debacle.

At times Maglor will clearly be returning at meals from seeing the three king step-brothers, but does not speak of it. Now even Elwing does not ask him, though she tells Earendil with osanwe that she can sense it went well; Maglor seems very relaxed, so that seems how it is even to a regular observer, too.

Olwe comes to say hello to Earendil and Gil-Galad while they're working, at one point, so Gil-Galad stops and talks to him while Earendil raises a hand in greeting and keeps on going. He doesn't care for social niceities.

There isn't really a sea-filled cothon here for ships, but that's fine. The docks are pretty good -- the other day Elwing flew over to his ship on the west coast and sailed it back for him over the land with magic, with him giving her tips through osanwe. She has magic powers, so she doesn't need real sailing tips, she did it just to be nice, he's sure. She's great like that.

The three kings try to say hello to Earendil and Gil-Galad as well, so the same thing happens again. Gil-Galad is more suited to talking to elves, he thinks, since he's a fellow elf and is a king himself.

Earendil has never actually been a king. He's been his parents' son while they worked with Elwing's top elves to run Sirion, and then his parents left and the elves tried to come to him. He'd been so distraught at their leaving that he'd just told them he couldn't talk, he had to work on his sailing stuff. Elwing had agreed, so the elves had went away and not bothered him.

Here in Aman he's been a boy alone on his ship in the sky. So he's never actually been a king, which appears to involve 'ruling' in some fashion.

See also: over the top clothes, crowns that look like they'd give you a headache, a posse of elves and servants with you all the time, royal duties [whatever those are], making decisions, looking serious, being good at schmoozing.

Gil-Galad is a real king, like Elrond is, despite his claims otherwise.

[He's heard Elrond joke that he made sure to never get a 'king' label because all who had it had died gruesomely, and he wanted to avoid that very much.]

But regardless of nomenclature, Elrond is a king. Nolo and Ara treat him like one, for example.

Maglor is a king too, despite his attempts at wordplay to get out of the title while Nelyo was tortured. He probably was after that, too, when Nelyo still 'ruled' his people without a crown, having given it to Nolo -- see, he's learned stuff. He knows things.

It's something about how they all act, he thinks. There's some kingly-ness about them all.

When royals come to see Gil-Galad, he just raises a hand in greeting and keeps working every time. Thankfully, they all leave him alone.

Maglor asks him at dinner, if they come by during the day, every time, "How were the elves? Were they bothersome?"

It's nice of him to ask. It's not that Earendil can't leg it away from pesky elves himself, but it's still nice that someone cares in the first place.

His parents have also been like this, wishing for his comfort. But Maglor is very proprietary about it, he acts like Earendil is Elrond. Like he's his child, and he is possessive of him.

Idril and Tuor are more respectful, and treat him like the adult he is. Maglor doesn't treat him like that at all. He still scolds him if he thinks he and Elwing aren't sleeping enough -- and tells him to summon her so he can have a go at her, too. But she likes it, just like Earendil does.

There's something nice in being looked after so over-protectively. Maglor comforts him, holding him in his arms, like it was always meant to be. Like he's been waiting for him to show up and be loved like a little boy.

Honestly, Maglor is rather the way he imagines a grandmother to act. He barely knows Elenwë, still. That's for his mother to handle. And Tuor's mother is dead forever, obviously.

Nimloth and Nerdanel don't act so covetous of Elrond, he thinks, as Maglor is of him. He likes it. It's nice to be wanted by a random person, who has no actual tie to him -- and an old enemy, no less.

Maglor and Elrond still seem to hide their relationship from him, of mother-father [in one person] and son. They both clearly are trying to spare his feelings, and Elwings'. But they don't know that Elwing has told him in private about them. She sees all [okay, most] things. Well, when she wants to, and even sometimes when she doesn't.

They do stuff all the time together, and hang out with Glorfindel together, and all that. They are each other's first thought. Truly though, that lessens Earendil's stress about trying to get to know Elrond, that he already has someone. He's already fine, he already had a good childhood, and loving parent. He still has one now, right here, since Maglor literally lives in his rooms in new Rivendell.

Of course, some days Elwing calls him away on a 'shell emergency' from his work, so he goes with her and they go to his ship [or her tower] and couple there on the bed. It's a lie, you see. She just wanted to get busy.

He likes it that way, how she drags him away. There's nothing more hot than to be wanted.

Gil-Galad only once makes the mistake of teasing them at dinner in front of Maglor, who tells him, as a rebuke, "So shall I then speak of you and Elrond? Can you even imagine how much I know?"

Gil-Galad's jaw drops for a moment, clearly not expecting the now tame Kano to say anything like that. Then he doubles over in laughter.

"Elrond would kill you," Gil-Galad gasps out, choking as he giggles uncontrollably.

Maglor shrugs.

He looks over at Elwing and Earendil. "Yeah, he'd probably think about it," Maglor agrees. "Now let's eat."

Earendil inhales some lobster rolls. He's often extra hungry after sex.

Maglor and Gil-Galad talk about the latest news re Tirion, because they both know stuff like that. He and Elwing don't, and don't care about it. She does enjoy asking random questions though, which they are both happy to answer in depth, until she waves a hand and says, 'Okay, that's enough, I won't remember it anyway.'

Despite Maglor being able to eat now, somewhat more normally, he often seems to retreat into a soup diet, even when much of the food on offer is very soft.

Then for dessert they eat big slices of lime custard pie with a side of coconut ice cream. It's very nice. [And it's all soft, and cool, which Maglor seems to favor over other food now. He asked Elrond a while ago, if this were a real thing he's noticed, and he said that it cools his throat lightly, making it feel better for him.]

This must be from home, he thinks. Otherwise other regions' elf food is not so heavy on different strong flavor combinations; it's typically more bland. The non-home food can be good, he's just gotten used to home food, that's all.

After a few weeks, they stop working totally and return home, mostly due to Gil-Galad missing being home [and probably Elrond, he assumes.

Gil-Galad thankfully doesn't talk about their relationship in front of him -- it's hard to imagine someone liking a baby in that way, which is how he still instinctively thinks of Elrond; and it's still weird to think this adult elf is his son, but even then it's still odd to think of someone romantic with him, since no matter how old he appears, Earendil automatically thinks of Elrond as 'one of the babies'.]

Before they leave he tells Elwing he wants to thank the Falmari and other elves nearby, and she agrees, and asks for him to put her name on the thank you as well. After all, they did allow their ships to go with the host, back then, partially for her. So he goes to them, the ones who live near Elwing, and then some others, and speaks to them for a moment.

They seem pleased with his awkward words, so that's nice.

Then he returns, and they all trek home together, and it's lovely to sleep in his own house. Thankfully he got a hammock put in there early on, so he can sleep well there.

On the way back to new Rivendell, Nelyo and Finno join them on them, as Nelyo doesn't want to be far parted from his brother.

At home they go back to their usual routine. They hang out with Elrond, they do stuff with their friends, and Maglor gives them lessons. Recently he's been trying to teach them about calques in language.

He often just teaches them fun stuff, and basic stuff. It's Caranthir that looks appalled all the time and tries to get him to understand deeply complex gobbledygook. He can never figure it out and Caranthir visibly appears to try to [ ... often more like attempts to] restrain himself from saying 'oh god', 'this is hopeless', and/or 'you're beyond help.'

Earendil enjoys it. It's weirdly fun. Maglor would never treat him so aggressively, or honestly. He's gentle, and kind to him.

Sometimes he likes that; truly, it's been necessary for him, all this time. He would have shattered under anything else. He could barely stand to be alive, most of the time.

But at other times he enjoys how Caranthir is so blunt and funny; he's rather like Elwing, or Feanor. They are all very much themselves, with no thought to anything else. It's pleasing, to have company like that. They don't act like elves at all.

The total majority of the time, though, he prefers Maglor. He and Elwing make Earendil feel better, and coddle him, and it often feels like a lifeline. [He tries to do stuff for Elwing, but he doesn't think it's very successful. At least she knows he tries, he thinks.]

On Elwing's birthday [not her begetting day, which is honestly extremely creepy in their shared opinion; like a baby suddenly appearing is public knowledge in a sense, cause you can see it, but does everyone need to know when your parents slept together to make you? Wow, gross], Elrond gives her a bunch of books on shells, which she loves. She rips them all apart and puts all the pictures of shells in them all over the walls of her house inside, as if they are art [they're not, they are accurate technical depictions/drawings.]

Random elves send her even more shells then than usual, which is nice of them. Elwing likes that, he can tell. He and her only exchange real presents with each other: each a shell they found while together.

They did that when they were so young and damaged together, they did it when they were older, they did it when they got married [in secret, for the moment that was just for them, and no one else at all watching.]

And they do it now, too.

What's almost funny is some high up elves send her shells made out of gold, silver or precious gems. She doesn't like them as much.

Elrond himself, he knows, has two birthdays -- the public one, which is the real one he never knew about for a super long time, and the private one, which is the day Maglor made up and told the boys was their birthday when they were with him [since he didn't actually know the real day of either their birth or begetting.]

In honor of Tuor, Earendil and Beren, Maglor had chosen to celebrate the children's birthday instead of begetting, but everyone had also on the sly done the other too, since as elves they were unwilling to not recognize that the children deserved both, and more.

Elwing does a special thing with Elrond, he knows, that the maia do, in the 'birthday' type way since he too is part maia, which is good. It's great for them to develop a real relationship.

Elrond gets wild presents from lots of people. Many Feanoreans send him cookies, often only one per person, which seems odd. Feanor invents moveable type and a printing press for him to play with. Nerdanel sends him some neat dark metal sculptures of open, giant, thin books that are meant to go underwater, like an installation for art in nature.

Maglor actually often helps Earendil with picking out new items every few hundred years [unlike Glorfindel's seasonal timeline] and deciding who to give his current stuff to. The elves who have been nice to him in new Rivendell, despite the past, he doesn't technically personally know, so he asks Maglor for advice on that.

Feanor continues to visit new Rivendell, now with Miriel and Nerdanel, often. Maglor now sees them first, when they arrive, and Earendil is not quite sure why. He doesn't think anyone else knows either.

And then one such day, Elwing flies to him on a walk he was on and says, "My mother is having dinner parties with her new elf guy, and my brothers, and -- that person."

Aredhel, she means, he realizes. He still feels sick to think of her and her evil family, and what her foolishness led to.

"And she invited us. I said you were busy helping put fish into the fish ponds here," Elwing continues. "So I'm gonna make up a new excuse for you every time. I can stay away, too."

"Well, you should go if you want," Earendil considers, looking at her-as-bird. "I mean, it's your family. Why don't you tell your mom in private that I can't be around -- that. But that she can come and hang out with us any time. I mean, we already do that with her and Glorfindel's parents, and everyone."

They do. She, Tylpe and Glorfindel's parents socialize all the time together, being both on the outskirts of the population house-wise, literally, and also metaphorically, since they don't 'belong' to Elrond's elves [either kind].

It's not like Earendil wants that person to die or something, he just can't be near them. He never walks past Elured and Elurin's house anymore, due to fear of seeing that person.

He cannot take the risk of suddenly being thrown into the depths of hysteria, pain and panic due to the sight of that one. [Is this how Maglor felt before when seeing Feanor?]

Thankfully, Nimloth seems to be pleased with seeing them at Glorfindel's parents' house instead.

"I've decided to try something," Elwing adds. "I'm going to talk more to the people who saved baby me. I've always seen it all in their minds, but I want to see what they say. They did send me some cool seashells last week, and elf stuff like dresses. And they made that nice book for Elrond."

They did -- they compiled their own written accounts of what Luthien, Beren, Dior and Doriath were like for Elrond. Elwing reads so poorly that hearing them all speak might be like the same thing in a way, he thinks.

"Good luck," he tells her, and she nods.

She flies away, and he continues his walk, hoping it goes well for her. He walks down further through the fields to see the artificial ponds.

After that he gets up and keeps walking. He goes into the 'animals for no purpose' building, which is basically animals the elves seem to want as friends/pets. There are ducks just cause they look cool swimming, cats because they are fuzzy, rabbits because they are cute, and dogs because who doesn't love a puppy.

There are also animals he doesn't really recognize like pygmy marmosets. They are cute too, always looking around in a funny way.

He often visits the different animal areas, just to see them. It's fun to watch the elves take care of them, and play with them. Earendil doesn't want a pet himself; it'd end up taking care of him, probably. But he does like to see them.

He passes the 'kinda-but-not-temples' after that, after a lot more walking.

The elves don't have a religion, per se, but Elrond has established 'temple-like' buildings in the settlement where elves give thanks to the creator of all things. Mostly they seem to bring flowers, or they write letters and burn them as 'not-offerings' with incense.

Earendil has seen the inside of these places because elves invited him to peek in on his walks one time. But he has never offered anything. He is not so overflowing with gratefulness to anybody, other than his parents. And Elwing, Elrond, Glorfindel, Maglor, and a few others.

Gil-Galad and Elrond go out here sometimes, publicly with an elf entourage, to make formal offerings for good luck, basically, to the creator god.

Earendil's parents have no religion, or interest in that stuff, he knows. Idril reviles the Valar [except Ulmo of course], and Tuor grew up in a horrorshow, and then was with her, really; Ulmo is actually his friend now. They hang out sometimes. He's only learned of his own people's culture through Elrond's books, that he gathered for him.

There are even also weird, elf-built caves dotting a certain part of the landscape that you descend down into on stone steps [just a staircase into the earth -- creepy] until you get to a big stone room under the earth. Those are neat to explore, as they are rarely occupied and people prop the doors open to show they are being used. So he often goes down into them, just for fun on his walks.l

The walls are elaborately painted, and offerings are left there in the wish that any elves who go to Mandos heal easily and swiftly there before returning to life. This is a sop to the grieving, and it gives them something to do.

It makes him think of Elros, when he passes the little huts that cover the entrances to the downward staircases that lead underground. He's been in some of them, when the random elves who maintain these structures invite him to look.

The walls are all covered in paintings [on the stone directly] of general scenes of elves resting comfortably in beds with blankets, usually, like a metaphorical idea of what Mandos is like.

This all also makes him think of Feanor and Miriel, and how he never got to see her until now, in the remaking. How sad. And how sad is it that Elros left them all -- even Elrond, who did nothing wrong.

Sometimes he can't even think about it.

He and Elwing never leave offerings down in the cave rooms. Even though they are the ones who actually would have a true reason to, given that Dior is dead forever, and Luthien and Beren, and Elros too, and all of Tuor's family and relatives, of course. But they do not. The pain is still too near.

He still thinks of it too much and weeps uncontrollably, sobbing and sobbing. Thankfully he's better now at containing it to his own house, so he's alone. And usually Maglor comes to him from wherever, and comforts him; he must be being tipped off by Elwing or something, which is nice of both of them.

Let's be honest, there's a laundry list of things that set Earendil off.

There's just too much grief.

For his home [gone, the first one and Sirion too], his innocence [gone], for how scared he's been since that thing tried to kill him and then the giant monsters came [still upsets him], his hysteria of learning of Ecthelion's death [thankfully he's been able to avoid him on his old visits to new Gondolin, always saying he doesn't want to see anyone; now he never goes.]

For his parents [found, they're okay, so that's good], for his father being mortal and being forced to die naturally [averted, good], for his fear of the death and torture of the children [averted re Maglor, but then Elros chose to die, so only halfway good.]

He speaks about Elros only to Maglor when having minor random emotional breakdowns, but he knows that Elwing talks to Maglor about Elros, mostly to say how angry she is about his decision.

He walks by the area with the little 'staircase huts' over the elf-made stone cave rooms; they dot part of a particular area like weird tall stone box mushrooms. There are a few nice breezes of temperate air, which is nice.

He passes the sugar cane fields.

He keeps going, eventually walking out near where some of Elrond's elves dig for jewel stones and metal in the deep earth. The few above ground wave hello to him from a distance, and he waves back.

This is how he prefers regular elves -- at a distance, and they are ones he vaguely recognizes, which makes it more comfortable.

It's always nice to be outside in nature. New Rivendell is nice in that regard, since it has fields, peaks, waterfalls [a lot of them], trees all over and forest areas, lakes and ponds, streams, wild fields and all sorts of areas. And then other space is taken up by elf buildings, elf houses, fields for cattle or flowers or fruit or vegetables.

What's also nice about his walks is that elves bring him stuff or do whatever to his house only when he's not there [unless he asks for something else], so often he comes back home and finds random new things all over. It's like a little fun surprise, in a way, sometimes.

Elwing flies back to him, sits on his shoulder, and says, in her voice coming from the bird form, "It was good!"

He feels a rush of happiness for her, and puts his hand up on her-as-bird.

"That's great," he says.

He can feel the soft, joyful sparkles sprinkle all over him, coming from her magically. It feels good.

"They wanted me to tell them what to do, and I said I don't think I should tell some other race what to do, but they kept saying that, so finally I said they should do stuff they think is fun," Elwing tells him in a rush.

"Sounds good," he judges.

He can feel her internal smile like a soft blanket on skin, but inside, somehow, magically.

He starts walking home, and they keep talking about it, and by the time he gets there he finds Maglor sitting in there, writing music. He glances up as Earendil walks in, with Elwing still on his shoulder [as a bird]. "Oh, I'm annoyed at Glorfindel," Maglor explains. "I'm over here to cool off. I told him if he dies rock climbing, I won't compose a funeral elegy song for him. He got very offended. He knows I pre-planned some already, and he's always sensitive to not being on the list, you know. I don't care."

"I feel like you do," Elwing tells him, her own voice coming out of the bird.

Maglor wrinkles his nose at her.

It's moments like this when he doesn't seem so ancient and weary. He seems like some young kid, like them.

"I do not," Maglor argues with her, looking very whiny.

"You do too," Elwing immediately says.

Earendil takes off his cloak and listens to them debate it.

Finally, he says, "Why don't you just agree to disagree?"

They both turn and give him looks of disapproval -- yes, including Elwing-as-bird. He can tell, and also can feel it somehow.

" ... Or not," Earendil adds.

Maglor smiles at him. "You must take Elwing's side," he instructs him. "Not because she's right, but because she is your lady."

Elwing yelled 'because I'm right! you admit it!' in the middle of that, but Maglor kept talking while pretending he didn't hear anything.

Finally, after they chat more amiably, Elwing decides she wants to work on her Quenya practice, so Maglor gets out her workbook and she tries to read sentences, still as a bird. [She sits on a pillow in between Maglor and Earendil on the couch, and Maglor holds the book he made, wrote, for her open.]

Elwing often ends sessions of language practice yelling 'this is stupid' or 'who cares, letters don't matter' or 'fuck elf languages!!!! all of them!!!', and today is no different.

At least she didn't set it on fire today, but Maglor thankfully never seems offended or angry about it, since he hand writes that workbook for her [so none other will see the level of her lack of literacy in even runes script in Sindarin, probably, to save her pride.]

"You did very well," Maglor tries to console her as she almost vibrates in frustration.

"I hate always sucking at this," she tells him, angry. And then just disappointed, he can tell.

"I suck at lots of stuff," Earendil offers, from his spot on the couch.

It seems unfair that he's better than her at Quenya; when he was a boy, the royal family knew it and spoke it and he was taught it, at a lower level, because he was a child.

But Thingol ruined that for her.

"No one is good at things right away," Maglor argues. "Think of my mother's first statues -- horrible. Or my father's first inventions -- all faulty."

"Your first songs were good," Elwing argues, petulant.

"No they weren't," he counters.

"I can see into all your memories of them," Elwing explains, more calm now. "Your father thinks of you as baby and little boy all the time when he sees you now. They were good songs."

"Damn," Maglor says, sighing. "Really?"

"Yeah," she agrees.

"Alright," he shrugs.

"I wasn't a good sailor when I started," Earendil contributes.

They both look at him. "I think you were always perfect, dear," Maglor tells him. "You are too hard on yourself. Both of you -- I used to say this to Elrond when he was little, annoyed he couldn't read faster, even though he was extremely advanced for his age, I thought."

It's true that no one knows how to truly judge their maturity or ages [as compared to elves], since they are all artificially immortal, not naturally so. Even as children, no one knew what to expect, obviously. [And Elwing's family was gone anyway, and her people viewed her as a kind of murti, in the aftermath of their trauma.]

"We're lucky, that you are good at being a parent," Elwing tells him. "We would have been terrible."

"That's not true," Maglor argues to her.

"That's really, really, true," Earendil contributes.

There's no way the boys wouldn't have noticed how non-having-it-together both of them were back then. Especially since Elrond is a veritable genius.

"Will you play?" Earendil adds. Both of them look at him, surprised; he can tell.

"Of course," Maglor says easily, and gets up to fetch one of the harps he keeps here in Earendil's house.

"He didn't do his magic lesson yet," Elwing points out to both of them. Maglor sticks his tongue out at her as he passes by her out of the room to where his harp is, in the room beside this one.

"That's not very elf-y," she yells after him.

He walks back in, carrying a harp, and tells her, "I don't like to restrict myself to only elf things," amused.

Of course this is nonsense. Maglor is an elf. Just like Nimloth, he sometimes jokes that he is not -- that he is like Elrond instead, blood-wise; like them. It's nice to listen to, really. How novel it is to hear something like that.

Obviously they are rare, the rarest of all people in existence, really -- him, Elwing and Elrond. That's it.

It doesn't matter. It's just lonely, sometimes. To be so different.

It's too bad there aren't a whole cabal of 'higher blood' people. That would be nice, to be among similar people. At least he has Elwing. And Elrond, and his father too, who is special.

"Do you think if Elrond xenotransfused you with some of my blood that you would be different a little, and get better at magic?" Elwing asks him.

Maglor sits down, his harp in his lap. They're in one of the parlors in the house, which is a well appointed room. Fancy, elegant.

" ... Do I want to know what that is, or shall I lose what little appetite I have?" Maglor counters, looking suspicious. "Elrond always speaks so casually of such intense medical procedures. I do not have that kind of toughness in my bloodlines. My group is more like idiots and cowards."

"Because of Amras?" Earendil asks, surprised.

He is not surprised about the blood thing, as Elrond is always doing newfangled, crazy healing stuff that helps elves.

"Hmm," Maglor muses. "I don't know. I can see many ways to view the past. One could say being bold is a type of cowardice even, to flee into danger to avoid actually handling everything. It could go either way."

"I didn't ask Elrond what he thought yet," Elwing explains, he assumes about the blood thing.

"It sounds gross," Earendil says honestly, and she laughs.

[Elrond says no to the idea, they find out later.]

"You should do your magic lesson instead of harping," Elwing tells Maglor, who sighs and says fine.

Earendil watches them do it. Now it is Elwing who is the teacher.

She tries to get him to do crazy stuff, like make water go into shapes or float in the air. Maglor can't do anything, mostly. Elwing tells him, "Just hum something, some notes, as you try. And keep your eyes shut."

Earendil still never sees anything big happen, but Elwing insists he's improving over time.

Finally Maglor sighs, very put upon, and tells her, "This is impossible. I'd almost rather plan my music building rebuilding than try to do something I cannot succeed at."

"You didn't have that rebuilt yet?" Earendil asks him.

"Didn't you want me to play?" Maglor evades, and whips out his harp and plays something.

A few days later, Earendil gets the scoop from Elrond at tea time with him.

There are fancy sandwiches piled up on silver platters, and different types of little sweet tarts, stacked in little towers: lemon, passion fruit, strawberry cream. Elrond often invites him to have tea with him, it's like a private lunch, kinda.

He always seems to prefer to have it in a small room near his study now, that has walls covered with tapestries depicting only flowers in all colors on wherever they would be found [what type of grass, or in water like for lilies, whatever terrain applies.]

"Oh, yes," Elrond says, "Lindir hasn't redesigned his music building or given work orders for it yet. So it sits, still, condemned and in disrepair. Of course Lady Nerdanel's people took everything out of it a while ago."

"Hmm," Earendil murmurs, busy eating some cucumber sandwiches. And then some chicken salad sandwiches [with thirteen-spice, anise and curry seasoning in there, he can tell.]

"Perhaps you can try to convince him to do something about it," Elrond suggests. "He does seem to favor you greatly, over many others."

He shrugs, and puts down his cup of milk.

"Also, mother has just let me know she doesn't feel well, and that you mustn't go to your house," Elrond adds. "She told me with osanwe, just now, and -- "

And then he hears Elwing, and stops listening outside his head. The real world fades a little in his senses, and she tells him, 'yeah I'm sick. it's the worst. kill me already!!! anyway. I already asked Maglor to come pretend I was Elrond.'

'I hope you feel better soon,' he tells her, sorry for her plight.

'It's okay,' Elwing assures him. 'It's not so often.'

'Yeah,' he agrees. It's not so often that she gets sick -- as compared to Earendil, or even Elrond. They are more susceptible than she is.

Then he realizes that Elrond is still talking, out loud, to him. " -- and yet, it was fine. I'm sure it will be well, as Lindir has a great amount of experience, from dealing with me."

"Yeah," Earendil says.

Where is he going to live, he thinks. They are at his house. He can't go near Elwing or Maglor now [or he could get sick.] He doesn't want to go to Elwing's house without her being there for a long time [it's hers, also he'd feel loney.]

"I'm gonna go to my ship," he decides. "It's too bad Maglor can't come."

"Shall Gil-Galad and I come with you instead?" Elrond asks, to his surprise. Elrond too must avoid both Maglor and Elwing now until she is well, so as not to get sick.

"Why?" he says. Elrond has no interest in his world of seafaring.

Elrond smiles at him. "Gil-Galad is always trying to teach me things about sailing that I cannot retain. But it is fun, to watch you both do your ship-things. And talk in your sailing-argot. I feel like I'm in some other culture. It's nice to see the ocean, the other ships. And Olwe is always wanting me to come visit, so it's convenient in that sense too."

" ... Okay," Earendil agrees hesitantly.

"Perfect," Elrond says. "I'll go tell Gil-Galad and we'll start packing."

It's a little weird being on his ship with Elrond. He is a very unusual person in some ways, and in others he's extremely predictable [like he brings a ton of books to read while there, on the ship. Crazy.]

Gil-Galad constantly is teaching him about how ships work, and sailing, and Elrond openly finds it amusing that he tries. "I have no aptitude for this," he points out again one afternoon, as Gil-Galad tries to explain to him how they adjust the sails depending on the wind. "However, I can tell you how to treat many common sailing injuries."

" ... Injuries that you're going to give me if I keep talking?" Gil-Galad asks him, and they laugh together.

Olwe of course comes to see Elrond and Gil-Galad; Earendil lets them go deal with him, and stays onboard, himself.

Elwing gives him mental osanwe updates on her health every day [if she's not sleeping, or feeling super bad.]

She also connects him and Maglor's minds at different times, because neither of them can use oswane so far away. [That would take a serious, extreme bond of many years, like Maglor and Elrond, or Idril and Tuor, for example.]

Elrond and Gil-Galad sleep in fancy rooms in Cirdan's mansion. They probably don't want to always have to be near Elrond's 'quote 'father'', since they are lovers.

It's just that it's super lonely, that's all, at night.

He eventually gets up and grabs a pillow from the bed to sleep with in his hammock, and it smells like Maglor's so light cologne, and like Elwing's skin, and like salt, but the ocean does that to everything. How strange this elegantly decorated bedroom looks when it's empty; like it was made for no one at all.

It's quiet on the ship.

There's no Elwing breathing, on top of him in the hammock. No noise of Maglor writing music in his scorebooks, of his pen. No talking, or anything else.

He listens to the background noises; the ship creaking slightly, the sound of the docks at night, and the ocean. It's not as nice as it used to be, to just hear that alone. He's gotten used to hearing other things, like other people.

Elwing reaches out suddenly to him, mentally, and he closes his eyes, and listens.

'It's me,' she says, and he suddenly can see her and Maglor, in his mind's eye, clearly due to her using her power to show him. Maglor is sitting in a chair next to the bed. 'Nerdanel came too, cause he wanted a helper.'

This is common -- Maglor feels that a [strong] elf woman is required to help Elwing, and that Glorfindel cannot be there, like when he is when Maglor helps Earendil when he's ill. Nerdanel is already Elwing's friend, and is also extremely strong; in general, and also among the elf women.

'She's outside, doing statue stuff,' Elwing tells him. 'Say hi,' she tells Maglor.

He can sense how Maglor needs her help to reach him with osanwe, and vice versa, how she kind of metaphorically takes his intangible spiritual hand and pulls him in the direction of Earendil, and then clasps their hands together, poetically.

'There you are,' Maglor says, sensing him with osanwe, now. 'How is the ocean? Still salty?'

Earendil smiles to himself. 'Yeah,' he agrees. 'Elrond and Gil-Galad are here.'

'Are you embarrassing him with tales of how he looked as an infant in front of Gil-Galad?' Maglor jokes, and Earendil says no. 'I never do, so he's missing out. We will have to get Nelyo to do it.'

Maglor never does because he loves Elrond more than a normal parent, Earendil thinks. He has been Elrond's one solid rock forever; despite almost dying, he surely lived just for him. Elrond's told him before that Maglor will not speak of him to any beings, especially not elves, to give him privacy that he's rarely ever had.

[What with literally everyone knowing what his blood parents did to him, and then how Maglor kind died on him, and then how Elros literally did forever. He has zero privacy, in terms of all that.]

It's 'bad enough I'm different and above everyone; I don't need everyone knowing all my business on top of that,' Elrond said to him once.

Of course he and Elwing don't do that either because of how they abandoned him in a war zone.

'How are you doing? Elwing says she feels better,' Maglor continues. He can see them in his mind's eye, Elwing in the bed and Maglor there beside her.

They're in a bedroom in Earendil's house that they rarely use; well, they have made love in it. But they actually get busy all over the house. When she's interested, she's very interested ... He's rebuilt a lot of furniture himself over time.

'I'm good,' he tells him. 'Olwe came by. The two of them talked to him. I took them looking for shells but none of us found anything neat.'

Maglor laughs.

'Shells are your jewels; you are not as superficial as the Noldor,' he comments. 'They love sparkling things. But does not the water sparkle, in the sun?'

'True,' Earendil agrees.

He likes it when Maglor calls the elves 'them' instead of 'we'. It's just nice to have solidarity, instead of being always different from [almost] all other beings.

Superficial and meaningless really? Yes. But it still feels nice.

They three chat mentally for a while, and Maglor plays for them, and he watches through their mental connection, until Elwing wants to sleep again, and she ends the magical link.

He opens his eyes and sees his own empty cabin on his ship once more.

There's the books Elrond picked out for him, since he thought they might be handy on a ship [?? but okay], the fancy tapestries. The zillion pillows. The too many clothes that Glorfindel insisted he needed.

The chest with Maglor's harps, the stuff Gil-Galad has given him for his ship [mostly helpful stuff instead of frivolous stuff], and then many shells that he and Elwing have found.

Thankfully, Elwing's illness concludes quickly, and they can return to new Rivendell.

It's nice to be back, he thinks, as the three of them ride back on horses and arrive at the entrance of new Rivendell. The entrance is small, and clearly set up for defense purposes if they had to fight an enemy.

Earendil too does not trust this new peace of the remaking. The valar cannot be trusted.

He's heard rumors at the shore of giant sea creatures that lurk in the depths, that would gladly take down ships and eat who knows what -- elves, even? Not evil monsters, but neutral creatures that just want to sustain themselves. As the elves kill game and animals for food, who's to say other big creatures won't kill elves to eat? It's hypocritical to say one is fine and the other isn't.

Elves live again, after Mandos, anyway, so. It's not like real death, at least.

A Feanorean elf comes up to him to take his horse, so he hands it off. Then the three of them walk back into town, and Gil-Galad goes to his kingly complex, while Elrond goes over to see Erestor, basically for gossip, or updates.

Earendil goes right to his own house on foot, walking out through the forests, out past town, and Elwing and he talk with osanwe as he gets closer [just basic, like that she's good, and to come over, and stuff like that.]

Out on the lawn are giant stone statues, not done -- by Nerdanel, must be. He doesn't pause to look closely at them.

He opens the front door, calls out that he's there, and finds the three of them having tea in one of the parlors.

"I'm practicing acting like an elf," Elwing responds. She has on a fancy elf dress and tiara thing and jewels on. She doesn't look like herself at all.

Maglor and Nerdanel smile at her statement.

Nerdanel rises, and says to him, "I must see to my work, but she is doing excellent at elf-impersonation," and walks out.

Elwing beams, proud.

"Have something, child," Maglor says, gesturing for Earendil to sit with them, and at the tea on the table. "My lady mother is correct, Princess Elwing has done very well. I verily could not imitate another type, but she has achieved it several times. And hug each other, so I may be pleased to see it."

He and Elwing laugh and embrace.

It is nice, to be close again, to feel the power of her soul so near. He likes the feel of her skin against his; elf skin feels different. Her power almost roils like something alive; Maglor's is more dormant, but big for an elf. Galadriel he thinks is more 'alive' with hers, and Elrond's is large like Elwing's but lays in waiting, until he needs it.

Well, that's Earendil's impression, his opinion.

"Now you," Elwing commands Maglor, who smiles and rises and goes to Earendil and embraces him. He's short and dark haired, like Elwing.

But he touches him carefully; Elwing is strong, but Maglor is weak because he is an elf, and weak beside that due to his old illness. His hair brushes against the skin of his hand -- it feels so weird. Not like his or Elwing's, or what he remembers of Elrond's, as a baby.

"Now we can see what my people brought me," Elwing enthuses, grabbing their hands, pulling Earendil off Maglor [he's very comfy to hug, okay?] "Presents! Elrond has the stuff put in my house. Let's go."

They walk over to her house, and indeed, there are many objects clearly made by non-Noldor elves.

They examine them all, and Maglor tells them what he knows, re Elwing's culture. It's Elrond who actually knows about it, despite not living then, because so many people who'd been in Doriath and known Luthien had come to him over time and told him all they knew, and showed him it all in their minds.

Elwing has never done a lot in this vein.

There are clothes and art and that type of thing. "These are fine pieces," Maglor says. "They probably would not like me to see all this."

"That's unfortunate for them," Elwing says, dryly, looking through the gifts herself. Or tribute? Do they still look upon her as a living god-king? "They should have fled the broken girdle while they could, and renounced my wicked father. But they did not. And their reward was death."

"Their loyalty is no sin," Maglor argues, looking at a cloak for her, with fine gold embroidery on it, on gold cloth.

New Doriath does not have its own industry, not enough elves stayed with Melian and Thingol for that. And now, all that is scuppered totally, so most of them joined other groups, or went to the new continents.

Where did they get the materials for these fine artisan wares?

"It absolutely is," Elwing counters.

"But it was out of love for your father, for your family," Maglor continues. "How can they be wrong for that?"

"Like you and Nelyo," Elwing says, looking upon him suddenly. "Do you not see? We are all the same, and so are they. We all trusted kings. Finwe led you all astray; then Feanor did too. Thingol led that place into ruin, he was corrupted by greed and pride. You are a follower of your father -- they are followers of mine. Both our fathers were led into wickedness by their parents, too."

Maglor blinks.

"Well, I think the whole 'mass slaughter' thing kind of differentiates us," he says mildly.

"Your father forced you to ruin yourself, that was always the foregone conclusion," Elwing tells him. "The minute he desired true death, and to drag you all into obliteration with him, your fates were set. He was ruined before that, that just pushed him over the tipping point."

Earendil knows it was only Maglor that wanted to break the oath, despite that meaning some type of horrific void suffering-without-death fate.

"He enshackled you," Elwing adds, looking still at Maglor. "Just as my father enshackled me, with the stone -- and with my blood, so I could see further. I gave up, and perished, and yet was then forced to live beyond my wish."

Maglor goes to her and puts his arms around her, looking glossy-eyed. "I am sorry for both of you, to be so hurt by life," he says quietly.

Earendil is aware he, and many elves, know of his desire to die when he reached Aman, but how Elwing's interruption led him to change his mind.

"It's okay," Elwing tells him. "You were simply the tool of your father, carelessly used -- like Finwe's careless use of Feanor. It all goes back to Thingol and Finwe. I would love it if Finwe died more permanently, like Thingol has. But Indis and Miriel seem to want him around. He must be really good in bed or something."

Maglor gasps, shocked. He looks fond of her, and amused.

He steps back, hands on her arms, and smiles. "I am too young to hear that," he tells her earnestly. "Which means you both are much too young."

"I feel like we figured it all out, since we made Elrond," Elwing points out, and they all laugh.

Maglor puts a hand on his face, which is not a very elven-gesture, Earendil thinks. "Don't even go near him when I'm here," he teases Elwing. "I will run for it if I have to. It is pleasing to see you both in a good match. But even I would not impose on the privacy of youths in love."

"I'd run for it, then," Earendil interjects, just to surprise them. Maglor smiles at him, and Elwing comes and jumps on top of him, and he catches her.

Maglor does leave, and he and Elwing hang out and do lots of things. [Share updates, talk about gossip, be intimate, go look at cool stuff.] Then later that night, Finno comes and invites them to go to a party at his and Nelyo's house, so they both go.

Maglor sings for them, very briefly, saying Elwing asked him to do so, and then the fête is in full swing. Normal Feanorean elves play music in the background, outside. Earendil assumes that Nelyo's house is more 'accurate' to what an old Noldor place is like. It's more similar to Tirion than to say Elrond's style.

But it is different, too. It is less fussy, and more comfortable; probably due to his past re torture, he thinks.

Glorfindel comes and hangs out with him, which is fun. "Come play máquè with me," he insists to him, and Earendil assents.

Elves sometimes play in teams with this little painted tile game [the tiles are small, the amount of different tiles is enormous.]

They sit and play. Here in new Rivendell there are not enough people of rank to have a 'real' party, as Maglor has told him before. So they break the Noldor rules and have their top bannermen come to the parties instead.

So Gildor is here, and even Erestor, who only comes at Elrond's request. Eventually Finno comes to ask him to eat with him and Nelyo, so he leaves Glorfindel to his game, who claims, "We were just getting good!"

Earendil doubts that. The other elves look like they do too, actually.

He walks back with Finno to the study, in another part of the house.

He passes room after fancy room of elves playing games and drinking. There are plates of 'party food' all over -- little petitfour cakes, mini sandwiches [including meatball! yay], and cheese/fig/ham bites.

After they walk back deeper into the house, into the private rooms, they arrive in the study, where Nelyo already is. He glances up at them. "There's some good kairee," he says. "One is non-spicy."

That's meant for Earendil, he knows. He thanks him for mentioning it, and takes in where he points to for him, and grabs some to try with flatbread and rice. It's just vegetables and meat in little pieces in a strong sauce.

"Are there new ices to try?" Finno asks him, and he nods. Finno races off to the cold cabinet to grab some, presumably. Of course, Nelyo had been built a new one after Elwing accidentally disappeared it with magic a long time ago.

He comes back with his arms full of little tiny cartons.

"How is it?" Finno asks.

Earendil nods. "It's pretty good," he offers, having already eaten all of his with some flatbread.

There's always so much good food at the parties that it's not smart to only eat one dish; there's always a lot to try.

"Elrond told me his lady mother was feeling better," Finno tells him, while wrestling open a bunch of cold cream tin tops. "That is so terrible, that you all must be afflicted with such a pestilence sometimes."

Fingon is a very earnest person. He can tell he literally means it.

"It's not too bad," Earendil explains. ... But how do you explain being sick to an elf? "It's like being lightly poisoned, maybe. But it goes away after a while."

He can't say 'well, you live so long without Nelyo, all upset, it's like that but short' -- and Nelyo of course has been through extreme torture. So comparisons aren't really allowed here, because it might bring up bad topics that no one wants to think about.

"I could not bear it," Finno says, "if I were Maglor, to see Elrond, or anyone, suffer like that. I felt bad enough, and it was only someone I met after I was back in Aman -- your wife, I mean."

He nods, and tries some mini grilled garlic cheese rolls with dipping sauce.

Finno goes right to eating the ices. "I heard there's a new one that everyone's liking," he adds. "Okay --"

He tries it, and they watch him. Fingon nods, seemingly pleased. "It's good. It tastes like vanilla, and rose water. And more. Try!"

He gives them both spoons, and they both try. "It is good," Earendil says, considering it.

They try the other containers at some point. "I have not mentioned," Nelyo murmurs, sitting on the couch in the study, beside Finno, "what Celegorm's done."

"What?" they both ask.

Earendil takes a miniature container of toasted coconut cold cream and sits down in a nearby chair to eat pineapple-lime cookies with it.

"Well, it starts with him being found in a high lady's bedroom in Tirion," Nelyo begins, "and ends with him hiding in a chicken coop to avoid my mother. Who found him. And beat him over the head with one of her chisels."

"What?" Finno asks him, looking quite in disbelief. "I cannot imagine him being unfaithful to Orome, even -- before."

He means with Luthien, Earendil realizes.

"There must be some other reason," he suggests. "I too know of the truth of what happened with Elwing's grandmother."

Nelyo looks amused. "When I first heard," he says quietly, "everyone was shocked, appalled. All I could think was, 'there's no way he has the balls to go for a real powerful woman.' "

Earendil laughs. "He's a little shy, to women," Nelyo continues. "He apparently was asked by this Noldor lady to get her a rare little orange monkey as a pet, with its consent, from the other continent, so he went and fetched it for her -- she is one of Finarfin's people. And then the monkey wouldn't leave him to go stay with her, so it scampered off, and Celegorm and her tried to run after it and convince it that she was a goodly lady, and kindly, and it would have fun there. Of course, they made a huge ruckus and many came to see what the trouble was."

"That sounds so utterly cute -- him doing that, and the monkey too," Finno comments. "Do you think he favors this lady or something?"

"No," Nelyo says, amused. "Not at all. He said she wrote him calling him the greatest of the Noldor forest adventurers, and that he felt very flattered, and acceded to her request because she said she felt she could ask none other."

"Wait, how did Nerdanel get into it?" Earendil asks, pausing in trying some strawberry overload cold cup [it's just strawberries in all conceivable edible forms: fresh, creamed, smash, diced, whole, iced, candied.]

"She thought he was cheating on Orome and said she'd kill him, since it'd only be for the second time anyway," Nelyo reports, and they all smile at the idea. "He was at her house when she heard, so he went and tried to hide in a giant chicken coop out in the fields to avoid her wrath, and the birds gave him up and showed Nerdanel where he was. The lady apparently went to her house in the next days to speak up for him."

"Wow," Finno says, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's always in some kind of crazy tale."

"Yes," Nelyo agrees.

"I don't have the energy to do interesting stuff," Earendil comments. "At least he was trying to be nice."

"Indeed," Nelyo agrees. "Your wife -- she has taken me to see the tide pools. She says they are very neat, that I must see them."

Earendil shrugs. Elwing does stuff like that with lots of elves, when she feels like it. She oft times gets into the mood to try to convince them of the greatness and beauty of the shore and ocean, wanting to kind of share her love of it.

She's tried to get Elrond and Maglor into it, but they just do it for her, not because they truly love it. It's like a little mission of hers, that she sometimes persues.

"Yeah," he says. "She does stuff like that. We're into the shore. A lot."

"She didn't ask me," Finno interrupts, almost offended at this slight. "Why not? What did I do?"

Earendil smiles and tries not to. "I'm sure she does it at random," he offers. "It's not like she's distinguishing among elves or something. Maybe you have some affinity for trees, and she was looking for someone who liked starfish, in their aura. I don't know."

"Oh, okay," Fingon settles. " ... Oh wait. I think she did, actually -- before the remaking."

Now Nelyo kind of laughs.

"I was very busy," Finno protests to him. "I was mourning you, and worrying, and trying to get Maglor to recover more, helping Lady Nerdanel with her sculpting, and buying accoutrements for our rooms here for you for when you were back, and trying to deal with my family. ... And trying to stop Glorfindel from buying me crazy stuff all the time. It was a packed schedule."

Even Finno laughs now, with them. It's easy to, now that things are better.

"I have heard that the demi-gods have abandoned their seat of power, that was restored after the evil one tried to destroy it of course, and after the remaking, they all gave it to Miriel to use as a workroom," Finno tells them.

"The Máhanaxar?" Nelyo asks. "Which we also call Rithil-Anamo, in Quenya again," he adds, for Earendil. "Once Feanor told me those gods call it the Māchananaškad, in their tongue."

It is helpful, how all the elves that are close to them constantly add in the other names of things in random conversation, helping them learn in a low-pressure exposure way.

It's strange how he calls his own father by his first name, but that must be due to how Feanor destroyed his life; Earendil cannot imagine calling Tuor by his name when speaking to him, ever. ... He can imagine Elrond doing it to him, since he used to. Don't think about it, he tells himself.

"I like her work," Earendil offers, and Finno decides he wants to see her new workroom there.

"Let's go," Fingon tells them.

So they take off, and ride out to it. And it's been transformed into a real workshop, they see once they get there.

Horse rides are always run, and they soon they arrive at Valimar, and see the golden gates of the west part of the city in the distance. The new two trees are no longer located inside this 'ring of doom', as Earendil's heard elves call it, instead they are a bit away from here.

Miriel's servants let them in, since the area is now occupied by elf buildings that hold some supplies for Miriel, and many projects of hers -- and they get to see the hill Ezellohar, and Finno tells him all the history, some of which he remembers. Her servants maintain this space and its supplies; Miriel comes by at times to work there, as she tires often of Tirion [metaphorically, obviously], Earendil has heard her say.

Then they walk about and look at Miriel's unfinished [currently she's working on these, just not done yet] tapestries.

"I think I like them like this, more," Earendil says. "The unravelled parts just makes it all look even more pretty."

"Truly?" Finno says.

"I can almost see it, sometimes. Not always," Nelyo decides, from a chair. Some elves seem to have less energy, even after the remaking. Maglor is like this too, at times.

The buildings around on this famous hill house very different projects, none finished. There is one that looks like an ocean, getting dark and darker blue-green the lower you look on the tapestry [it's super tall, these buildings are quite large.]

There's barely any sky or air shown at the top of it, it's all ocean. At the top are the typical sea creatures at that depth, and then the sea animals change as it gets deeper and deeper -- this must be Celegorm's reporting to her on this, or Miriel must have gotten this info from one of Elrond's books.

And then it gets so dark, the thread is almost black. And you can barely see the animals, some glowing of their own power, and at that point the tapestry is unfinished, not showing the bottom of the ocean [sand or rock] and then the rock beneath it.

It's pretty engaging.

Each piece of Miriel's is incredible in its own way; many are very different from each other. None of them actually catalogue real elven history or anything, like is said she made for, or with, that demi-god.

One has strange symbols on it ... that must be Glorfindel's influence or involvement, as it makes him think of his creepy paintings.

That particular piece though is very complex -- it looks like a trompe-l'oeil, where it's partially like a white and cream painting, with symbols in white, and then that part looks ruched up on only one side, exposing an 'underneath'. A deeper level of the art, somehow. And this is in bright, different colors.

No symbols are there, just swirling bright colors.

None of Miriel's art looks like it was done with mere thread and needle. She is talented beyond comprehension. Her work looks like anything but textiles -- maybe painting or magic, or something.

They all spend a while staring at the art.

Eventually a servant shows up [they are all still staring at Miriel's great, unfinished works] to deliver a message to Finno, and waits for an answer. Fingon reads it and then declares aloud, "I shall go myself! And speak in person. Come my friends, let us depart for home."

They regroup, get back on their horses, and go to new Rivendell.

On the way, Finno tells them that the message was from Maglor, and it said 'Where are you all? You left your own party, and people then looked to me as the host. Also, I'm getting tired of having to listen to Glorfindel try to convince me to go surfing with him. Try to fake some 'need-music' emergency already!'

They get back and find the party still in full swing. Elrond and Maglor and Glorfindel are deeper in the house, at dinner, waiting for them.

This back room is very expansive, with soft carpet everywhere [they must take off their shoes before walking into this area, and wash their feet with a little bowl of water and cloth; thankfully no servants try to do it, because Earendil doesn't want some random elf to touch his feet.]

They can still hear the party from here, it's just muffled, a bit. The walls in this room are covered with big paintings of different people -- but people Earendil doesn't know. Elves he's never seen, in excessive outfits that don't seem like the ones from Tirion, or any of the other elf cities that he's been to. Some are holding random objects, but not normal elf stuff like scepters or swords.

One painted figure wears all green, has lichen/moss facial hair and has a pointed cap, very plant-themed.

There is a painting of an ocean mermaid that's a little too overly voluptuous to be meant as elven, with super long hair.

Another male figure looks like a smith and holds a weird multicolor mill or box, that only vaguely looks like either thing, really. On the ground of the painting by his feet there is a broken crossbow, a broken ship toy, and a broken cow toy, and a broken plow.

'They are characters from famous ancient elf stories, fictional,' Maglor whispers into his mind. 'That one holds the 'sampo', a magical receptacle that can create anything.'

'Thanks,' he tells him back that way.

"The food just arrived," Glorfindel tells them, as they walk into one of the back rooms. Elwing is there too, vaporizing some flatbreads with toppings. "Elwing wouldn't tell where you all went!"

He sounds whiny. Elwing smiles.

"I could only get mother to agree that it was a liminal space," Elrond says, looking amused and exasperated. "Now satisfy my curiosity -- where were you?"

"At the Queen Miriel's new workshop, in the old Máhanaxar," Finno reveals.

"It's weird," Earendil says. "If she hadn't been so talented, then Feanor wouldn't have inherited that level of genius, then you guys wouldn't be so talented either."

"That is terrible to think on, to have to be a lesser musician," Maglor complains, but looks gently at him. "Though if anyone must be my better in music, I would prefer it be Finno."

"Do you think Daeron was better than you?" Fingon asks him. "Since you've now heard him in people's memories."

Maglor considers this as they all sit, get comfortable and start eating.

"Well, I think he was trying to do something different than me," Maglor finally says. "He was playing for the lady Luthien specifically. I've never been playing 'for' someone to add their voice to, or dance to, so particularly. And the music of that area is different than our music. So to me it is as if comparing apples to oysters."

"Take some drink, Kano," Finno adds, and Maglor rolls his eyes and drinks some juice, and then also some wine.

Elrond's town is extremely prosperous, and he has great wealth, to do something like have fruit juice at all meals, all year round [even when normal elves have no fruit growing in the fields.] But Elrond seems to be very interested in finding the boundaries of nature and seeing if he can go beyond them. Not like Earendil.

Elrond's one of those once in a epoch geniuses, really.

Later, after the meal, he and Elwing go home to their house together [his house, in this instance.]

"What did that music sound like? Was it truly as great as Maglor's?" he asks Elwing.

"It was great, but different, I think," she tells him. They go lay on the cushions together in the back room, that face the waterfalls view, through the glass back wall. "Listen."

She shows him memories of it all, that she's seen through elves' minds.

Luthien, looking like Elwing only glowing far, far more, almost bright like a silmaril. Her dancing, magically appealing, more than that of an elf. Her singing, sounding like an enchantment -- almost disturbing, he thinks. It's so alluring that it feels wrong. Maglor's music sucks you in, this drags you in forcefully.

It's like a spell, seeing her. Sure Elwing radiates beauty and power, but this is out of control; a real life silmaril. A jewel taken elf form. It's almost too much.

"Yeah," Elwing agrees, ending the vision. He blinks and shakes his head to resettle himself, and looks over at her. "I find her to be 'too much' too."

"You're a better blend," Earendil opines, and she smiles.

She kisses him, and shortly they are making out, and then they are making love. How lucky, he thinks after, hazily, to have another, kind of like him.

Chapter Text

Eventually, he and Elwing get kinda good at Quenya. Instead of using magic to help elves grasp the meaning of her words [those who don't know Sindarin], and to know what they mean, she starts to be able to understand and speak it. He gets better at it too.

Adûnaic is something he tries never to think of, for obvious reasons.

He shows Maglor more plans he's drawn up for his new music building, after he creates them, one hot summer day by the private pool at Earendil's house. [Elwing is busy swimming in it as a fish, currently.] It seems nuts for him to leave the building simply ruined. Why not have a nice place there?

"This does look nice," Maglor tells him, as he shows him the drawings.

The idea is this: instead of a barn-esque type building, it's more of a pagoda one, big and tall with different levels to it. Kind of like a panopticon, in a way, but not, with many rooms and no center tall open area [to prevent echoing.]

"Has Glorfindel showed you the one he built for me?" he asks him.

"What?" Earendil says, surprised.

"Yes, he made me a ridiculous structure that's totally nonsensical," Maglor explains, but looks like he's pleased Glorfindel bothered. "I'll show you when we're out there -- he had it built here in our city, instead of by my mother's house. It's all made of glass, and in nature. Truly it's mad, and something I think the wood elves would like more than a Noldor."

"All made of glass?" he questions.

"Everything, it's horrifying," Maglor says cheerfully. "I like your plans much more. I shall give them to my mother's builders. Let me call a page."

He rises and walks into the house to call one and then hand it off to them, to have it sent in the mail to his mother.

Earendil watches him. He won't go swimming with them in normal nudity, but wears clothes. Elrond had a private pool built for his blood parents at both their houses when they were first created, but only recently have they gotten in them instead of just looked at them [they are beautiful, after all.]

They are in the shade, so it's not as hot there.

Maglor comes back out and gets into the water with Earendil, who has on water-appropriate trunks shorts on, in deference to Maglor's lack of nudity, not wanting to make him feel weird about it; it's probably that his body is still so not strong that he's embarrassed by it or something.

The pool is flush to the ground, out in the forest behind Earendil's house. It's only worked on to be kept clean when he and Elwing aren't there at home.

Thankfully, the area is surrounded by enormous thick areas of bushes, and thick forest, making it seem very private.

Flowering trees and vines loom over head, sometimes dropping their pink or white petals into the water; it's beautiful. Today it is so hot out that Elrond has retreated underground in his domain, which Glorfindel calls his 'lair', to everyone's amusement.

Apparently there are many tunnels underneath the settlement, not just the ones Earendil has seen himself. Good.

[He tries not to think of his mother's tunnel.]

Maglor told him he could have pages come bring them 'pool accoutrements', but he demurred.

He'd rather do it himself, so he carried out the stuff himself, forbidding Maglor to help. [Maglor complained.] He got the towels, the cream for sun Elrond uses [it feels terrible, but since Elrond is into it they sometimes do it, and Maglor does too, just so they don't have to be 'weird' and different], the food and drinks on the front porch that the elves had delivered, and stuff like that.

He also brought out pillows for the poolside lounge chairs. Maglor laid on one with all the insouciance of a born king, and then later does so on a partially-floating similar chair in the pool itself, but he keeps giggling when Elwing jumps on top of him as a fish. It's very incongruent, and amusing.

Eventually Elwing turns into a woman-shape. Herself, that is. Maglor pre-arranged her agreement to wear an old fashioned bathing costume so he wouldn't see her too unclad. Or too sexy. So Elwing looks kind of hilarious in her dowdy tunic and shorts.

Only Maglor could un-sexyize the most gorgeous person alive, due to seeing her as another kid to take in. Earendil is pretty sure that's a unique feeling among the elves mostly, since all the other ones gaze at Elwing with awe and attraction. [Her friends don't seem to as much, which is nice.]

Earendil brings them both drinks after Maglor and Elwing are both in the pool, and both people-shaped as well. Then he gets in too. He leaves the food and trays of beverage carafes on the edge of the pool, that way it's easy to reach.

"Thank you dear," Maglor says, taking a glass of wine from him.

"Mhm," Elwing intones, as she magicaly slurps her fruit slush drink up.

He tries his own; it's good. It's sweet passionfruit.

Earendil climbs onto his own half-floating lounge chair thing, and just floats. It's much cooler here on the water in the shade then it is out in town in the sun. Elwing swims over to him and half climbs up on top of him.

They hang out like that for a while.

The only noise is the soft sound of the water moving once in a while, the summer bugs humming, frogs croaking once in a while.

At times breezes make the leaves in the trees rustle.

At the oddest times things Elrond and Maglor used to pray come to him. Once Elrond prayed to him for strength, sounding upset; at times it had felt terrible to listen to, but at least somebody was talking to him. Well, at him.

It helped keep him alive, up there on his ship, in space, feeling like he wasn't forgotten and his life wasn't utterly pointless.

One time in particular Maglor had prayed to him, wanting forgiveness for taking Elrond's love. By that point he was healed and living with him in the real, original Rivendell, Earendil now understands. He had thought then: love cannot be taken. It is only earned.

How strange, to think he now lives this totally unrecognizable life. He knows the old elf rulers of this land, he goes to parties all the time, he has a good relationship with his abandoned kid. He and Elwing are tight.

How crazy to think their old enemies are their friends now. And Maglor is more than that, he is paradoxically their savior, because of saving Elrond. And now he is their special person.

Elwing's hawk flies over and hangs out with them for a little while.

"I think I am going to melt," Maglor randomly says. "It shall be a first in elven history. People will say, the fiery blood of Feanor means his line is predisposed to it."

"It must have been hot in ancient Aman," Earendil points out. He too is no fan of the extreme heat, and he knows Tuor is not, either.

"Yes, but back then we had servants fan us as we did our typical activities," Maglor explains, eyes shut, still laying supine on his flattish floating chair, partially in the water.

"Why don't you do that now?" Elwing asks him.

"It would feel too weird," he tells them. "After everything ... Besides, my father just invented those flapping wing mechanisms that go on doorframes. That's the same thing, really. "

"Your people don't blame you, as mine do not me," Elwing says. "I feel like both groups are way, way too into both of us."

Earendil laughs. That is definitely true.

"And Elrond," Maglor supplies, and she agrees.

There is birdsong ringing out once in a great while, distantly in the air.

"Elrond went to see that woman," Elwing says, and Earendil's eyes pop open. She means Aredhel. "He wanted to see if she was angry with me, for slapping her all the way to Mandos. But he said she wasn't, she thought it was funny."

Oh. That's good, he thinks.

The conversation turns to other things, and they try some summer snacks by the edge of the pool after a while [cold pasta salad with vegetables and meats and cheeses, light fluffy cheesecake with peaches.]

"I better get a move on," Maglor says mournfully, after that. "Glorfindel wants to go see the summer art exhibits, and I haven't gone in forever with him."

"Bye," Elwing tells him, as he gets out of the pool, and tries to dry off with a towel. Eventually he goes indoors to change into dry clothes. Then he comes back out of Earendil's house to them at the pool.

"Alright, I'm off. Poor me," he tells them, looking amused. "Have fun, for I shan't."

"Have an open mind," Elwing insists, and he rolls his eyes. Not very elven, Earendil thinks.

Maglor takes off, and they enjoy their pool together for a while. Then they dry off, go indoors, have sex, and take a nap.

Elrond's people have parties underground now, during the hot summer days, mostly just because it's novel and fun, he thinks. Later they both bathe and dress and go out to one.

Unfortunately, elf royals are in attendance, and start asking him questions about sailing and their new little skiffs.

He has to stand there and listen to them use phrases like 'ease the jib sheet' or 'luff the main'. It's rough.

"We don't say ropes," Earendil finally corrects them. "They're lines."

That's a mistake, as it unleashes a thousand other questions. Thankfully Feanor rescues him from Nolo and Ara, needing his help for 'an experiment, a little one.'

He walks with Feanor to another area of the party. "What's the experiment?" Earendil asks him.

Feanor sits down on an empty chair. "Huh? Ah. Just that you looked uncomfortable."

" ... Oh," he remarks. "Thanks."

"Has Princess Elwing told you of our latest experiments?" Feanor asks him, excited to share, and then refreshes his memory. He doesn't mind listening, and sits down next to him.

When Feanor pauses speaking at last, he inquires as to how Earendil is doing. "And my sons, who live near you. My servants -- and my step-brothers -- tell me Kano is in some type of newfangled modern open relationship with you and your wife. I have asked her, but she only laughs and says I must ask Kano."

Earendil shrugs. "She's only joking," he explains. "Maglor needs somebody intellectual. That's not us."

"Do you think this Laurefindel is appropriate?" Feanor asks him. "People say he is a great hero -- in my day he was simply one of Fingolfin's followers, among many others."

"Yeah, Glorfindel is really nice," he explains. "I mean few people would do all the stuff he did to help Maglor recover, you know. That's a lotta work."

"Yes," Feanor acknowledges.

"Also, I feel like Maglor's standards are way higher than yours," Earendil adds. Feanor looks amused for a moment, and then sad. "He is a very exacting person."

"Yes," Feanor agrees, more quietly now, and more somber.

"I feel great empathy for you," Earendil tells him, and Feanor looks discombobulated. "I too ruined my children's lives, by cursing them with my -- our -- blood, and then how we abandoned them to only bad things. But I have sought to be a friend to my only living son, nowadays. And I think that is the best course for us. For I am, and was, no father to him. That is Maglor. Maybe you could be your sons' friend, instead."

"I hope so," Feanor says frankly, looking grimly into the distance. "Someday. 'Friend' would be satisfactory. And yet I too feel similarly -- for I feel great anger at mine own father. How did you get your son to want to forgive you?"

"I don't want him to," Earendil explains. "He shouldn't. What me and Elwing did was wrong, twiceover. As was done to us by our parents. But Elrond is strong enough, and had a good life, enough, to be the better man. Enough to be merciful."

"I have worried for Kano," Feanor admits, leaning forward on his arms, elbows on his knees. "I had thought he would be joyous to see my death anew, but instead he was hysterical. It was like a fit of apoplexy, but worse. I do not want that for him -- yet it is I who have sent him to this state."

"Maybe he just needs to be reassured that everything is okay now," Earendi tells him. "I didn't talk to my parents for many years, just due to my own grief. It might not even be only all about you."

"Nerdanel and I are concerned for him, to have such an intense reaction. Elrondaro confirmed it was unusual," Feanaro says. "Yet I do not know what he wishes. Or how we can help him."

"Why don't you just hang around all the time?" he suggests. "So he'll get used to you being there. Don't say I said that though. If he doesn't like the idea, I don't want him to be angry at me."

"I think you're safe, boy," Feanor says, kindly. "From what I hear, you are much loved by him, you and your wife. I suppose though you are no boy, but a king. I forget, all these new people who exist are hard to remember. Though I watched you, in the sky."

"Really?" he asks, not expecting this.

"Of course," Feanor says easily. "They are mine, the jewels. They are 'of' me. Part of me was inside them. So I watched you, and before you, your wife, and those before her."

"I must have been the most pathetic person on the list," Earendil says, ruefully.

"No," Feanor counters, surprising him. "That was that maia, seeing what her non-interfence had bought her. And then her daughter, that Luthien, was filled with pleasure, to escape this world. You and your wife were mere toddlers, despite your blood. It was sad to see you both with it, for you were not happy. But all is better now. ... I had no idea what happened could pain Kano so much. I had thought my suffering would please him greatly, as some type of recompense even, afterwards, idly. It is even sadder to think it is not so."