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kitcat22 · 2 months

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The babe squirms in Maedhros’ arms reaching a chubby fist out toward his face and grasping at his nose.

Maedhros allows it despite his usual opposition to being touched. This is different, this is his child. He fears it though, that one day Ereinon may sneak up behind him and grab at his ankle and Maedhros will think him an enemy and cut him down. It terrifies him the idea if being responsible for the death of his own son and his son’s other father.

(He has not managed to speak the name since the Nirneath and can barely think it without weeping or screaming. His brothers have taken to avoiding it too, fearful of his reaction)

He presses a kiss to Ereinion’s brow and the watches his son squeal in delight. He wishes he could smile at the sight but he does not have the energy. Smiling has become very hard these days.

Ereinion Gil Galad is not a particularly large baby, as long as Maedhros’ elbow to his knuckles and as heavy as a few solid pillows. That is not to say he wont grow tall and broad. Maedhros himself had been a relatively small infant and though had remained slim and lightly muscled his height was renowned. His son’s skin his dark like Maedhros’ lover’s and his eyes are a deep dark brown. It is clear who he will grow to look like. There is little obvious relation to Maedhros in his face save perhaps the shape of his eyes and the point of his chin. The most obvious sign of his parentage is the shock of silver white hair that is shared by Celegorm and Miriel before him.

He thinks of the loremasters that will forever theorise about what dainty, sindarin maiden could have seduced their high king and bore a child with his face and her hair. Maedhros’ heart hurts and his eyes sting. His own son will never know him and he will never know his son.

‘He would be disgusted if he did know you’ says the biting voice in his head. ‘ A kinslayer, a failure of a king, a failure of a general, practically an orc’

‘It is for the best’ says the other voice that is softer but just as cutting. ‘This is the only way to ensure his protection, if he stays he will only be dragged down by you’

They are both true of course but the pain in his heart only grows.

He will never see his son grow, will never watch him learn to walk, will never help him with his studies, will never introduce him at court.

He will be nothing more than the bastard of a cousin that killed the boy’s father.

The knock on the door stirs him from his thoughts. Celegorm stands at the door, more solemn than Maedhros had ever seen him in Aman, with Amrod standing more nervously behind him.

‘Are you ready?’ Asks Celegorm as though this was something he could ever feel ready for.

‘If you need more time…’ his youngest brother adds on quietly but Maedhros made his decision a long time ago. He cannot, will not cast doom upon his own child.

He kisses Ereinion once more on the brow and before allowing his brothers to take the child from his arms.

‘Goodbye my little star’ he thinks as the door shuts and the tears drip down his face.

#silmarillion #silm #the silm #silmarillion writing #silm writing #maedhros #fingon #celegorm #amrod #ereinion gil galad #gil galad #russingon as gil galads dads #russingon

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amethysttribble · 2 years

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Blind to All the Damage Done

@feanorianweek Entry 5: Curufin (Celebrimbor)

Ereinion’s big brother is telling him a story to try and distract him from a lot of things. It works a little.

Six AUs in which Gil-galad was a grandson of Feanor and one where he wasn’t (now on Ao3).

Yesterday, I gave you peredhel angst. Today, Tiny, bby!Gil. Tomorrow? Who knows. In other new, I am addicted to writing Curufin interacting with small children.

Tucked under the covers with the lights dimmed, Ereinion giggled into Celebrimbor’s shirt while his older brother shushed him. It was far past his bedtime, Tyelpe was supposed to take him to his room hours ago. But here they laid, snuggled together, Celebrimbor making shadow puppets on the wall for Ereinion’s amusement.

It was very fun, and very worthwhile mischief, by Ereinon’s estimation, they just had to make sure Atya didn’t hear them.

“And then,” Celebrimbor whispered, entwining his thumbs and spreading his fingers wide, “the Great Eagle flew high, high up to the top of the tallest mountain in the lands.” To Ereinion’s delight, he fluttered his fingers and the Great Eagle upon the wall flapped his wings.

“There, he was met with the Fire Heart, the source of evil which had so vexed and hurt the Elves below. Curled like a serpent upon the tip of the mountain, sat a massive, red dragon!”

Ereinion gasped, as Celebrimbor mimed making a snake, twirling in a circle, and even wiggled his fingers in such a way that it seemed the dragon was breathing fire.

“And evil Fire Heart saw the Great Eagle approach, and he said, ‘Grrraah! Such a puny bird! You think you might challenge me? I will have you for lunch. And all the little Elves will be my dessert.”

“Oh, noooo,” Ereinion drawled, joy rich in his voice as he slinked further under the covers.

Tyelpe was running out of hands now, and the Great Eagle and Fire Heart were simplified so that he could make the two fight. Ereinion did not care. Whatever his big brother made, it was always the most wonderful thing. Maybe, maybe! Ereinion could ask him to make him toys that looked like the Great Evil and Fire Heart.

That would be grand fun.

“The Great Eagle replied, ‘You have much pride, spawn of Morgoth! And that will be your undoing.’ And said no more. He dove.”

For a time, the Great Eagle and Fire Heart fought, flying into each other, colliding, as Celebrimbor made hushed noises.

“Whoosh! Ah! Boom! Crash!”

Ereinion squealed in delight, kicking his feet excitedly as he watched the story unfold on the wall in great shadows. And then one hand smacked the other, and started to fall.

“Alas!” Celebrimbor cried, “Fire Heart struck a grave blow onto the Great Eagle!”

“Oh no!”

“With his massive teeth he took a big-” Celebrimbor gnashed his teeth together, biting down with a muffled noise, “-bite! The Great Eagle’s feathers came loose in the dragon’s mouth, and he breathed a spit of fire, roasting them.”

Ereinion’s eyes went wide, and he whispered, “Did it smell like chicken?”

Celebrimbor glanced down at him, away from his plummeting hero against the wall, and pressed his lips together tightly, shoulders shaking.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, laughter in his voice, “it smelled like roasted chicken.”

“Woah,” Ereinion said.

“Woah, indeed. Anyway, and then the Great Eagle, his wings hurt, began to fall. Down, down he careened as the evil Fire Heart cackled for above. ‘What a glorious lunch this will be,’ he chortled. ‘Roast chicken!’”

Ereinion didn’t know whether to giggle or not. He smiled at Tyelpe’s joke, but his chest was starting to hurt and he pulled the covers up tighter against his chin. The Great Eagle was really in trouble now. That was… a little scary.

He pressed closer against Celebimrbor and muttered, “Is the dragon really going to eat him?”

His brother shrugged carelessly, arranging his fingers into one big bird again.

“If he catches him.”

“Like they caught Amme?” Celebrimbor’s arms dropped. He looked down at him, and for a second, Ereinion feared he was in trouble. Then, Celebrimbor collapsed back against the pillows and wound an arm around him. He pulled him close, and Ereinion wrapped his arms around his big brother’s neck.

“Where did you hear that?” Celebrimbor whispered.

When Ereinion only shrugged, he sighed.

“What happened to Mother was… a freak accident. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay? Don’t think about it too much.”

“But she’s gone,” Ereinion whispered, brows furrowing. No one told him anything. All anyone would say was that Amme was gone. Not coming home. It was only when he listened while people thought he was asleep that he heard anything, and he still didn’t understand.

How could someone just be gone?

But Celebrimbor only said, “Yeah.”

Ereinion made a dissatisfied whine. Celebrimbor ignored him, or at least it felt like he did when he pulled away and sat up. Ereinion looked up at him, pouting as his brother smoothed the hair away from his face slowly.

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

Erienion shrugged.

“I promise it ends well.”

He peeked up at Celebrimbor, gnawing on his lip. “Promise?” he asked, hesitantly.

And Tyelpe smiled.

“Promise.” He reached down and pulled Ereinion, sitting him between his legs, facing the wall. Then Tyelpe brought his hands up again. “Here, let’s try again. Injured, the Great Eagle fell from the sky. Down, down he went, wind rushing past him, until suddenly, he heard a sound. It was bird-song! The song of his mate, singing on the wind, and the sound brought healing words with it. All at once, the Great Eagle was healed! By the love of his love.”

Ereinion let out an awed little, “Oooohh,” turning to look up at Celebrimbor rather than at the wall. His brother didn’t notice.

“With a large push of his wings, he soared through the sky once again.”

The shadow bird mimed flapping and gliding through the air.

“Then, he returned once more to face Fire Heart.” The hands split apart to mime separate entities again. “And when he reached the top, the dragon was distracted. He was so pleased with himself, Fire Heart didn’t see the Great Eagle rise up. He was too busy looking at the village of Elves below.”

Ereinion made a choked little noise, squirming around to hold Celebrimbor around the waist, tucking his face into his shirt. With one eye squinted open, he was the shadow’s move.

“Flying high above the mountain, Fire Heart saw nothing as the Great Eagle streaked up, pointed straight. He only realized his demise was coming when he felt a sharp-” Celebrimbor made a theatrical, choked off noise.

The two puppets smashed together.

“The Great Eagle crashed into Fire Heart’s belly, beak first! And it pierced the soft little spot of flesh under the dragon’s hide. When he pulled away, Fire Heart began to fall.”

Happy with the story again, Ereinion pulled away from Celebrimbor to fully watch him use two hands to make a dragon fall to the ground.

“Down, down, down he went, just like the Great Eagle before. But this time, nothing happened, and Fire Heart hit the ground. For there was no one who loved him enough to sing him well, and for that he perished. And there was peace in the valley again, for the Elves, and the Great Eagle and his mate.”

“Yeah!” Ereinion cried, not quite as enthusiastic as he was before, but well pleased with his story. Celebrimbor smiled at him, and he smiled back. He was about to ask for another story- perhaps this one, just a little, tiny bit less scary?- when they heard a slow clapping from the doorway.

“Incredible,” Atya said dryly, and he wasn’t smiling, “what a moving tale.”

Ereinion squeaked and quickly hid under the covers, while Celebrimbor yelped, “Father! Uh, we were just-”

“Just about to go to bed? Yes, I think you were.”

Ereinion held his breath as he heard Atya approach, squeezing his eyes shut in the dark. It didn’t stop Atya from finding him, and he felt the covers get pulled back, then two hands grabbed him around the waist. Ereinion was hauled up and then settled against Atya’s shoulder.

Atya wasn’t even looking at him, instead staring disapprovingly down at Celebrimbor.

“I won’t ask you not to keep him up past bedtime again, because I know that’s a fool’s errand, but I will ask you to think a bit more about indulging him. Can you imagine the fright I got when I went to check on him and found the bed empty?”

Celebrimbor looked very, very upset, and Ereinion squirmed in discomfort at the sight. “It’s not his fault,” he tried to say, but they both ignored him, like they always did when they were talking. Like Ereinion wasn’t even there, even though they only seemed to talk when it was about him.

“I understand, Father,” Celebrimbor muttered. “I’ll- I’ll try to be more circumspect in the future.”

“See that you do,” was all Atya said as he walked out the door, hauling Ereinion with him.

Once they were in the hallway, Ereinion tried again, saying, “It wasn’t his fault.”

Atya was silent for a little while, ignoring him, and that made Ereinion antsy, squirming and kicking in his arms. He wanted to be let down. Atya just held on tighter. Eventually, he sighed.

“Did you enjoy the story your brother told you?” Atya said softly as they walked into Ereinion’s dark, lonely room.

“Yeah,” he said, and decided to leave the part of it being scary out, so that Celebrimbor didn’t get in trouble. Atya hated it whenever Ereinion was scared, it made him upset, and Ereinion hated when he was upset. “I liked it. I liked the puppets.”

Atya gave a hum to show he was listening as he set Ereinion down on his bed and started to tuck him. He did that a lot recently, humming and making noises. Like Uncle Turko. Except Atya used to talk a lot, ‘e-nunce-c-ating’ everything very carefully. Since Amme went away, he didn’t talk as much. He was very tired.

Atya worked a lot these days, but didn’t seem to do very much.

“I liked the eagle and dragon,” Ereinion said, tugging on Atya’s hair until he looked at him. “I want toys like that, can you make me toys like that?”

Atya would make him anything he asked for usually, no matter what Uncle Moryo or Amme said about ‘spoiling’ him. Ereinion had the best toys ever and so many of them, between Atya and Tyelpe. Or, at least, it used to be between them.

“Maybe your brother will, darling,” Atya said, leaning down to kiss Ereinion. “We might ask him in the morning.”

“Won’t you help?” Ereinion whined.

“I’m busy.”

Atya had been very, very busy since Amme died. He didn’t have time for doing anything, like helping with lessons, or telling stories, or bedtime, or the forge. He’d promised Ereinion he would take him to the forge to start learning how to smith, and then Amme left and didn’t come back.

Ereinion hated it. He crossed his arms and pouted. “Busy with what?” he whined.

“I’m going on a trip,” Atya said, and that sent a trill of terror through Ereinion so hard and fast he could scarcely comprehend it. He shot up straight instantly and fisted his hands in Atya’s shirt. His riding shirt.

“When?”

Gently, Atya pushed him back down, and laid down with him. At first, just his torso was on the bed, then his feet, even though boots were not allowed on the furniture. If Atya wasn’t going to mention it, though, then Ereinion wasn’t going to as Atya had started to pet his hair.

The last time Atya had held him like this, he’d thought Ereinion was asleep, and he’d been crying.

“This is why you were supposed to be asleep,” he said, “but I suppose it’s too late now. I ride out in an hour. I only travel to Uncle Kano’s Gap. I will be back soon.”

“But what if you’re not?” Ereinion muttered. Amme said she’d be home for dinner and then she wasn’t. She never would be again. And Ereinion didn’t know what happened, because no one would tell him, but if Amme left and didn’t come back, the same thing could happen to Atya.

Whatever that thing was.

At first, Ereinion thought Atya would lie to him, or not answer, as he always did. But instead, he merely grimaced and said, “If I’m not… if I’m not, then you will have your uncles, and you will have your brother. Celebrimbor will take care of you; he’s a good older brother. And like good brothers, you will always have each other, even if you fight. He’ll protect you, and when you’re older, you’ll protect each other. Understood?”

Gaping slightly, Ereinion nodded. Oh, this felt very solemn and very important. Atya never trusted him with things like this.

“Okay,” he said, and when he gave his ascent, Atya leaned down and kissed him again.

“Good lad,” he said, then stood up. “I love you. I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you, Atya,” Ereinion called at his retreating father’s back. “If you- if it’s hard to get home, I’ll sing and heal you.”

Atya gave him a wane, confused smile as he closed the door, and it didn’t feel like enough. Certainly not a good enough goodbye if… if. Ereinion was alone, now. He only waited until Father’s footsteps were gone to sneak into Celebrimbor’s room.

#celebrimbor #gil galad #curufin #the silmarillion #tolkien #feanorianweek #fanfic #Tribble Post

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