Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, not a single thing *sniff*
A/N: This happens before my previous story, Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima, although they can both stand alone. To those who read that, no, this isn't the fic where I cheer Elrond up (obviously, since it's before, not after…) - that'll come next. BTW, can anyone who has the Silmarillion tell me what Gil-galad was *doing* after the battle of Sirion? Or where he lived during that time?
BTW, the title is Quenya and means "father's star", although it might be "elen ataro" instead – not sure.
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Elrond ran down the corridors. His footsteps didn't make a sound due to his elven ancestors – a fact that he was proud of, although he needed to concentrate on it more than ordinary elven children. Unfortunately, the same thing was true for his brother. "Elros! Where are you?" he called. Nothing. His brother had run off around bedtime… again. It wasn't Elrond's duty to find him – actually, he should be going to bed too – but he'd spent too much time caring for his younger sibling to stop now. He opened his mouth to call out again, but stopped. He heard voices up ahead. Gil- galad and some courtiers, he guessed. Gil-galad, high king of the Noldor. The distant relation that had taken them in, and cared for them so well. Elrond was grateful, but found it difficult to trust the elven king… trust came hard, nowadays. It was probably an aftereffect of all he'd gone through, of seeing things no child should see, but Elrond somehow felt ashamed of himself, that he couldn't give the king the trust he deserved.
Elrond peered around a pillar, seeing the king standing nearby, his back to the young half-elf. The child could hear every word of what he was saying, but it didn't seem very interesting. Still, Elrond didn't want to leave, so he stayed, somewhat guiltily.
"My lord! A messenger comes, with news of the war – and of Eärendil." Elrond's heart leapt. Through the ruin of Sirion, through his flight in the forest, throughout everything that had happened to him, he'd clung to the hope that his father would come back. Elrond could hardly remember his father, but he recalled that those had been happy times, that he had known how to trust. Elrond hoped, fervently as only a young child could, that his father would return, would scoop him up in his and make everything be all right. That mother would come back too, and would smile at him and Elros, and would somehow erase what had happened, the smell of burnt flesh in the ruins of his home, the pangs of hunger alone in the forest. Elwing hadn't paid much attention to her children before – the Silmaril had been growing on her mind – but Elrond hoped. And now, it seemed, that hope had paid off.
"Send him in." That was Gil-galad's voice, harsh with emotions. Normally Elrond would have tried to analyze those emotions, would have tried to observe what the king thought. He was good at watching, at putting things together. But now, Elrond was far too excited to think of anything but his father.
A young, dark-haired elf entered and knelt. "Greetings, my lord. I bring news of Eärendil son of Tuor, of Elwing daughter of Dior and of her Silmaril."
Silmaril. The accursed name burnt in Elrond's thoughts. He hated the jewels with a passion. It was Elwing's Silmaril that led her to ignore her sons, it was the Silmaril that had brought the sons of Fëanor down upon them. It was the Silmaril that had destroyed Elrond's life.
The messenger continued. "It is a long tale. Elwing flew in the shape of a gull to her husband, Eärendil. They came west, to Valinor, to beg the Valar to interfere in the war. They succeeded."
Elrond heard relieved gasps and cheers around him, but he hardly cared. He knew he should care, that this could decide the fate of Arda, but at the moment it didn't matter to him. 'What of my mother… my father?' he thought furiously. 'Where are they?'
"However, Elwing and Eärendil were forbidden to return again, ever. I do not know exactly how it came about, but Eärendil now sails the skies, with the Silmaril upon his brow, a bright star. Elwing flies to meet him on feathered wings."
Elrond heard nothing more, although he was dimly aware of the messenger leaving and of Gil-galad saying something. the words repeating themselves over and over in his head. Forbidden to return… a star… forbidden to return… he would never see his father again, nor his mother. Hope shattered in his breast, and Elrond fought against tears that threatened to overwhelm him. 'No… I won't cry… I won't,' he thought, biting his lip. But it was to no avail, and a broken sob escaped from his throat.
"…Elrond?" Gil-galad turned around, staring at the half-elf. Elrond stared back for a moment, tears welling in his eyes, then turned and ran away. He heard Gil-galad calling him again, but didn't listen, running as fast as his feet would take him. His steps thudded loudly against the stone floor, then against grass – he was outside.
Without thinking, Elrond ran over to his favorite tree, a willow standing near one side of the garden. He loved to sit there at night and watch the stars. They always comforted him, staying the same no matter what happened – their serene dance a constant in his turbulent life. So he looked upwards tonight as well, and saw the new star. It shone with the light of mother's Silmaril… Elrond sank down to the ground, crying. "Father," he whispered in between sobs. "Father…"
Someone picked him up and embraced him tightly. It was Gil-galad. Ordinarily, Elrond would have pulled away, mistrustful and guilty at his mistrust - Gil-galad was a kind and noble elf who deserved Elrond's trust. But today, the young half-elf wasn't capable of doing more than sobbing, tears soaking the king's shirt. He was dimly aware of Gil-galad whispering soothing words to him, but he only cried harder.
After an age – or so it seemed – the tears stopped, leaving Elrond hugged against Gil-galad's chest. He would've said something, would've tried to apologize for breaking down like that, but he was too tired… he fell asleep in the king's arms.
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A/N: Aww… how cute. I'll try to do Gil-galad's pov next – that one will feature an appearance by Elros, for all you Elros-fans. I'm not sure on Eärendil's pov, but I suppose I'll manage. Poor Eärendil will probably be *very* upset.
Some notes: As said before, I haven't actually read the Silmarillion, but taken all my information from various fanfics around here. So, my information may be incorrect. It's slightly AU in that Elrond didn't go to Maglor after the destruction of Sirion – I wanted to work that into here, but I'm having enough problems describing all the conflicting emotions as it is. Next fic, my friends, next fic. Also, I'm not sure what happens to Elwing – I believe AngelsFall said she waits for Eärendil in Valinor – but I thought leaving her as a gull would be cooler ;)
Please review! :)
A/N: This happens before my previous story, Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima, although they can both stand alone. To those who read that, no, this isn't the fic where I cheer Elrond up (obviously, since it's before, not after…) - that'll come next. BTW, can anyone who has the Silmarillion tell me what Gil-galad was *doing* after the battle of Sirion? Or where he lived during that time?
BTW, the title is Quenya and means "father's star", although it might be "elen ataro" instead – not sure.
----------------------
Elrond ran down the corridors. His footsteps didn't make a sound due to his elven ancestors – a fact that he was proud of, although he needed to concentrate on it more than ordinary elven children. Unfortunately, the same thing was true for his brother. "Elros! Where are you?" he called. Nothing. His brother had run off around bedtime… again. It wasn't Elrond's duty to find him – actually, he should be going to bed too – but he'd spent too much time caring for his younger sibling to stop now. He opened his mouth to call out again, but stopped. He heard voices up ahead. Gil- galad and some courtiers, he guessed. Gil-galad, high king of the Noldor. The distant relation that had taken them in, and cared for them so well. Elrond was grateful, but found it difficult to trust the elven king… trust came hard, nowadays. It was probably an aftereffect of all he'd gone through, of seeing things no child should see, but Elrond somehow felt ashamed of himself, that he couldn't give the king the trust he deserved.
Elrond peered around a pillar, seeing the king standing nearby, his back to the young half-elf. The child could hear every word of what he was saying, but it didn't seem very interesting. Still, Elrond didn't want to leave, so he stayed, somewhat guiltily.
"My lord! A messenger comes, with news of the war – and of Eärendil." Elrond's heart leapt. Through the ruin of Sirion, through his flight in the forest, throughout everything that had happened to him, he'd clung to the hope that his father would come back. Elrond could hardly remember his father, but he recalled that those had been happy times, that he had known how to trust. Elrond hoped, fervently as only a young child could, that his father would return, would scoop him up in his and make everything be all right. That mother would come back too, and would smile at him and Elros, and would somehow erase what had happened, the smell of burnt flesh in the ruins of his home, the pangs of hunger alone in the forest. Elwing hadn't paid much attention to her children before – the Silmaril had been growing on her mind – but Elrond hoped. And now, it seemed, that hope had paid off.
"Send him in." That was Gil-galad's voice, harsh with emotions. Normally Elrond would have tried to analyze those emotions, would have tried to observe what the king thought. He was good at watching, at putting things together. But now, Elrond was far too excited to think of anything but his father.
A young, dark-haired elf entered and knelt. "Greetings, my lord. I bring news of Eärendil son of Tuor, of Elwing daughter of Dior and of her Silmaril."
Silmaril. The accursed name burnt in Elrond's thoughts. He hated the jewels with a passion. It was Elwing's Silmaril that led her to ignore her sons, it was the Silmaril that had brought the sons of Fëanor down upon them. It was the Silmaril that had destroyed Elrond's life.
The messenger continued. "It is a long tale. Elwing flew in the shape of a gull to her husband, Eärendil. They came west, to Valinor, to beg the Valar to interfere in the war. They succeeded."
Elrond heard relieved gasps and cheers around him, but he hardly cared. He knew he should care, that this could decide the fate of Arda, but at the moment it didn't matter to him. 'What of my mother… my father?' he thought furiously. 'Where are they?'
"However, Elwing and Eärendil were forbidden to return again, ever. I do not know exactly how it came about, but Eärendil now sails the skies, with the Silmaril upon his brow, a bright star. Elwing flies to meet him on feathered wings."
Elrond heard nothing more, although he was dimly aware of the messenger leaving and of Gil-galad saying something. the words repeating themselves over and over in his head. Forbidden to return… a star… forbidden to return… he would never see his father again, nor his mother. Hope shattered in his breast, and Elrond fought against tears that threatened to overwhelm him. 'No… I won't cry… I won't,' he thought, biting his lip. But it was to no avail, and a broken sob escaped from his throat.
"…Elrond?" Gil-galad turned around, staring at the half-elf. Elrond stared back for a moment, tears welling in his eyes, then turned and ran away. He heard Gil-galad calling him again, but didn't listen, running as fast as his feet would take him. His steps thudded loudly against the stone floor, then against grass – he was outside.
Without thinking, Elrond ran over to his favorite tree, a willow standing near one side of the garden. He loved to sit there at night and watch the stars. They always comforted him, staying the same no matter what happened – their serene dance a constant in his turbulent life. So he looked upwards tonight as well, and saw the new star. It shone with the light of mother's Silmaril… Elrond sank down to the ground, crying. "Father," he whispered in between sobs. "Father…"
Someone picked him up and embraced him tightly. It was Gil-galad. Ordinarily, Elrond would have pulled away, mistrustful and guilty at his mistrust - Gil-galad was a kind and noble elf who deserved Elrond's trust. But today, the young half-elf wasn't capable of doing more than sobbing, tears soaking the king's shirt. He was dimly aware of Gil-galad whispering soothing words to him, but he only cried harder.
After an age – or so it seemed – the tears stopped, leaving Elrond hugged against Gil-galad's chest. He would've said something, would've tried to apologize for breaking down like that, but he was too tired… he fell asleep in the king's arms.
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A/N: Aww… how cute. I'll try to do Gil-galad's pov next – that one will feature an appearance by Elros, for all you Elros-fans. I'm not sure on Eärendil's pov, but I suppose I'll manage. Poor Eärendil will probably be *very* upset.
Some notes: As said before, I haven't actually read the Silmarillion, but taken all my information from various fanfics around here. So, my information may be incorrect. It's slightly AU in that Elrond didn't go to Maglor after the destruction of Sirion – I wanted to work that into here, but I'm having enough problems describing all the conflicting emotions as it is. Next fic, my friends, next fic. Also, I'm not sure what happens to Elwing – I believe AngelsFall said she waits for Eärendil in Valinor – but I thought leaving her as a gull would be cooler ;)
Please review! :)