2.  Every Secret Of My Heart

 

 

 

The rain thudded against the glass windows, drumming a steady rhythm that dulled the mind and the heart.  Inside, Maglor had supplemented the weak, watery daylight by lighting two lamps, one for Elros and Elrond as they did the sums he had assigned them, and one for himself as he completed his correspondence.  The three worked diligently at their tasks.  Occasionally, one of the twins would look out the window and sigh, but not a word was spoken.  It had been raining for several days, and there was nothing to be said.

 

Elros nudged Elrond, and they conferred briefly over a problem.  Maglor did not allow outright copying of answers, but he did not mind the occasional consultation.  Nerdanel had permitted his own twin brothers to work that way, and both Amrod and Amras had learned arithmetic perfectly well.  There was no reason to think that Nerdanel’s method would not work with Elros and Elrond.  Thus far, they had made adequate progress in their arithmetic, and the opportunities to chat seemed to relieve some of the frustration of sitting still and working at problems.

 

The conference seemed to go on for longer than usual this time.  Maglor guessed that there was some disagreement over how to solve that particular problem.  Just before he could step in to offer a hint, the twins ceased their discussion, and each turned back to his own slate.  From the hunch of Elros’s shoulders and the defiant toss of Elrond’s head, Maglor guessed that they had agreed to disagree, and that he would receive two different answers from the twins.  He smiled, and turned back to the letter he was writing to one of his reeves.

 

There was silence in the hall for a while, and then Elrond looked up.  “Maglor,” he said, “do you think it rained this much in Sirion?”

 

Elros glared at Elrond under his eyelashes.  He had been withdrawn and quiet for several days now, ever since Maglor had told the tale of the sack of Sirion.  Elrond, on the other hand, had been full of questions.  Elros grumbled and glared whenever Elrond brought the subject up, but Maglor noticed that he always quieted down to listen to the answers to Elrond’s questions.  So he smiled at both twins when he answered this one.

 

“I think it must have rained even more than here.  Sirion is on the coast, and it always rains more on a coast than it does inland.”

 

“Why?” Elrond asked.

 

“Because that is where the water is, silly,” Elros retorted.

 

Elrond’s jaw hardened, and he thrust out his lip.  Maglor could see that an argument was brewing.  “Are you both finished with your arithmetic?” he asked.  “If you wish, we can discuss this matter further when you have done your sums.”

 

Elros sniffed, and turned back to his own slate, bowing his head and curling his arm around it so that Elrond could not see.  Elrond sulked for a moment longer, then bowed his head over his own slate.  Maglor sighed, and glanced out the window, wishing that the rain would cease so that he could send the twins outside to rid themselves of some of their frustrated energy.

 

 

 

Dinner that night was a silent affair.  Maglor served a thick stew of lentils and barley, with a variety of root vegetables from the cellars.  The twins poked at it listlessly, though Elrond tried to offer a weak smile.  Maglor nodded understandingly at him.

 

“I know that you are tired of roots and cabbages,” he said.  “But soon it will be warm enough to plant new vegetables in the garden, and there will be more things to eat.  In the meantime, it is cold and wet outside, and this will warm your insides and fill you up.”

 

Maglor sat down and began to eat his stew.  After a moment, Elrond followed suit.  Elros stirred his spoon in his bowl, and finally lifted a spoonful of barley and broth to his mouth.  He touched the broth briefly with his lips, then set his spoon back in the bowl.  Elrond glanced at his brother, a worried look on his face.

 

“Why do you not eat your dinner, Elros?” he asked.  “It is good stew.”

 

Elros did not answer, but pushed his bowl away.  Maglor frowned.  It suddenly occurred to him that these children were partially descended from the Secondborn, and therefore might be susceptible to illnesses that never troubled full Elves.  “Are you ill, Elros?  Let me see if you have a fever.”  Maglor rose and moved around the table to where Elros sat.  He reached out to feel Elros’s brow, but Elros flinched away from his touch.

 

Now, Elrond looked genuinely frightened.  “Elros, tell Maglor what is wrong with you!” he cried.  When Elros still refused to look at Maglor, Elrond reached out and gingerly laid a hand on his brother’s cheek.  “He has no fever,” he reported, and his lower lip began to wobble.

 

Maglor knelt down between the two boys.  He laid one hand on Elrond’s back to steady him, then twisted his head so that he could catch a glimpse of Elros’s face.  “What is wrong, Elros?” he asked.  “You are obviously in great distress, and it hurts both me and Elrond to see you like that.  I would like to make you feel better, but I cannot help you unless you tell me what is distressing you.”

 

Elros twisted and squirmed on his bench, in an agony of indecision.  Maglor reached out slowly and tipped Elros’s chin up.  Elros sniffled, and made a brave but futile effort to hold back the tears that started to spill down his face.

 

Maglor made a soothing noise in the back of his throat, and seated himself on the bench between the boys.  Without saying a word, he put his arm around Elros’s shoulders.  Elros stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, and allowed himself to melt into the embrace.  He wept bitterly against Maglor’s shoulder for a while.  Maglor held him tightly and rocked back and forth, and Elrond reached over to pat his brother’s hand.  Eventually, Elros stopped weeping.  He lay quietly in Maglor’s arms and murmured something indistinct.

 

“What did you say, Elros?  I could not hear you.”

 

Elros raised his tear-stained face.  “I am not hungry,” he said, the first words he had spoken to Maglor in days.

 

Maglor sighed.  “I can see that,” he replied.  “You do not have to eat the stew if you do not want it.”  Elros nodded, and laid his head back on Maglor’s shoulder.  “You look exhausted,” Maglor went on.  “Would you like to go to bed now?  I will wash the dishes with Elrond tonight.”

 

Elros nodded again.  Maglor opened his arms, and Elros slid off the bench and stood staring at his feet.  Maglor gave him a quick kiss and squeezed his hands.  “Go wash your face and go to bed.  Let us hope that the morning will bring you good cheer.” 

 

Elros turned, and trudged to the stairs.  Without a word or a backward glance, he went upstairs to bed.  Maglor and Elrond finished their meal quickly, then took the dishes into the kitchen.

 

 

 

Elrond went up to bed after he and Maglor had washed the dishes.  He crept quietly into the bedroom and put on his nightshirt and washed his face in the dark, so as not to wake Elros.  When he climbed into the bed, however, he saw that his precautions had not been necessary.  Elros was awake, and his eyes glittered in the darkness.  Elrond curled up and pulled the quilt over his shoulders, but did not reach out.  There was something in Elros that did not want to be touched.

 

“Maglor loves you,” Elrond whispered.  “He loves both of us.”

 

“I know,” Elros whispered back.  “I wish he did not.”  Then he rolled over, turning his back on Elrond.

 

“Elros, why?” Elrond asked.  But Elros made no reply.

 

 

 

The sky shed the last of its rain that night, and the next morning dawned clear and sunny.  Maglor woke Elros and Elrond with a song about daisies blooming in a field.  It had such a jolly tune that Elrond rolled on the bed laughing, and even Elros had to crack a smile.

 

After breakfast, Maglor released Elros and Elrond into the front garden to run and play.  They wore their oldest clothes, so that they could play in the mud as much as they wanted.  The garden was alive with earthworms that had come out during the rain and had not yet crawled back into their secret underground holes.  Elrond got down on his knees and began to grub up some of the fatter ones.  Elros raced over to his favorite old oak tree and began to climb.

 

Every move he made caused the tree to shiver and dump cold water on him, but Elros did not mind.  The water felt fresh and alive, and the coldness made his skin tingle.  At last, he reached a particular crook where he could sit on a branch and look out over most of the valley.  The great house where Elros and Elrond and Maglor lived looked small from this height, and the outbuildings and the nearby cottages looked like toys.  Far away, Elros could see the creek where he and Elrond loved to go fishing during the hot summer days.  There was a little hollow in the riverbank that made a perfect secret lair.  The creek, brown and swollen from the spring thaw and the recent rains, rippled thickly.  It reminded Elros of the belly of a pregnant mare, bulging and heaving as the foal within writhed.

 

Elros sat in the tree, watching the river, for a long time.  The wind blew chill, and he wrapped his cloak tightly about his body.  Maglor’s portion of Himring really was a beautiful valley, Elros thought.  There were meadows to run across, small thickets of trees to hide in, and the creek where they could go swimming in the hottest part of the summer.  Maglor’s soldiers maintained a constant watch to keep the valley secure from any evil creature of Morgoth that might want to disturb their peace.  Elros and Elrond were lucky to live there.

 

A squirrel ran along a branch near his head.  It stopped short when it saw the boy sitting in the tree and chittered at him.  “Maglor loves Elrond and me,” Elros told the squirrel.  “He takes care of us just as if we were his own children.  Our real father is a star in the sky, and he can never come for us, and our mother vanished into the sea.  But Maglor loves us, so we are his children now.”

 

The squirrel sat on its hind legs, its front paws pressed tightly against the soft white fur of its breast.  It looked so soft and inviting that Elros had to stroke it.  He reached his hand out as slowly as he could, but just before his fingers met the squirrel’s fur, it dashed away through the branches.  Elros sighed.  He pulled his cloak closer around his body and tried once again to make the knot of terror growing in his stomach go away.

 

The faint cry of horns roused Elros from his thoughts.  He grabbed at the branches around him and twisted until he could see the road leading into the valley.  A small company of riders was coming over the hill.  They came at a leisurely pace, wearing cloaks against the spring chill, but no armor or helms.  Their leader was tall and pale, and his red hair tumbled about his shoulders and blazed in the sunshine.  Elros let out a delighted whoop and scrambled down the tree.

 

Elrond looked up as his brother appeared.  “What is it?” he asked.

 

“I saw them, up in the tree!” Elros cried.

 

Elrond glanced up at the branches.  “Who was in the tree?”

 

“I was!  I saw them.  On the road.”

 

“Who?”

 

Elros had to laugh at the look of complete befuddlement on Elrond’s face.  “Maedhros, Elrond!  Uncle Maedhros is coming to visit!”

 

He tore off down the road, with Elrond close at his heels.  It was not long before they rounded a curve and spotted the traveling company.  Maedhros spied them at the same time, and raised his left hand to call a halt.  He dismounted quickly, and strode toward the twins with his arms held out and a smile on his face.

 

Elros ran just a little bit faster, so that he could be sure of getting to Maedhros before Elrond did.  He liked it best when he could hug Maedhros on the left side.  Though he was not exactly frightened of the stump of Maedhros’s right arm, it did make him somewhat uneasy.  He fetched up against Maedhros with a thump, and thrilled to feel his arm wrapping around his shoulders, and a hand ruffling his hair.  Elrond arrived just after he did, and attached himself to Maedhros’s right side.  Maedhros held both of them close, and laughed his deep, rolling laugh.

 

“Well met, you two!” he cried.  “Oh, you have both grown so much since last I saw you.  Soon you will be as tall as Maglor, and you will squeeze the life out of me when you greet me like this.”

 

Elros and Elrond responded by tightening their arms around Maedhros’s middle.  He squeezed them back, and then released them.  “Now that is a greeting,” he said.  “Are you the advance party?  Where is my little brother?”

 

“I think he is at the stables,” Elrond said.  “I do not know if he knows you are here.  Elros was in the tree, and he saw you.”

 

“Well then, let us go and inform Maglor of my arrival,” Maedhros said.  “How would you like to ride my horse?”

 

Elrond and Elros both jumped and clapped their hands.  “Oh, yes, please!”  Maedhros signaled to a valet, who boosted the boys onto the back of Maedhros’s enormous charger.  Elrond buried his hands in the horse’s mane, and Elros held tightly to his brother.  Maedhros, walking beside the horse, laid his stump on its neck to guide it, and the small party continued on down the road that led to Maglor’s house.

 

 

 

Maglor had spent the morning repairing harnesses in preparation for the spring planting.  He had just finished working the winter stiffness out of a set of traces when he heard the noise of horses and riders in the stable yard.  Quickly, he hung the traces on a peg, wiped his hands on a rag, and went out to greet his guests.  A delighted smile spread across his face when he beheld Maedhros, standing in the yard with his arms open.  Maglor rushed to embrace him, and the sons of Fëanor held each other close for a moment.

 

“Oh, Maedhros, it is good to see you!” Maglor said.  “I had not expected you to come so soon, especially after such rains as we have had.”

 

“It is no matter.  A small party of riders can press through a rainstorm where a wagon cannot.”  Maedhros smiled at Maglor.  “It has been a year since I saw you last, and I did not wish to wait.  Every opportunity to see my little brother is precious to me.”

 

The delicate sound of a child clearing his throat interrupted their reunion.  “Will someone help us get down from the horse, please?” Elrond asked.

 

Maglor raised an eyebrow at him.  “How did you get up on the horse in the first place?”

 

“Uncle Maedhros’s valet helped us.”

 

“I see.”  Maglor regarded the two boys.  “Well, this charger is certainly a great deal taller than your ponies, but you should dismount just as you always do.  Swing your leg and jump.”

 

Elrond looked down at the ground.  His eyes grew wide, but he took a deep breath and set his jaw.  Carefully, he swung one leg over the horse’s withers so that he sat sideways on its back.  Maglor held out his hands.  Elrond grasped them for support, and jumped.  As Maglor had taught him, he flexed his knees to absorb the shock of landing, and then stood straight and giggled.  “I did it!” he said.

 

“Yes,” Maglor replied.  “You did.”  He turned and looked at Elros, still sitting on the horse’s back, and held out his hands.  “Elros, it is your turn.”

 

Elros started and shied away from Maglor.  “No!” he cried. 

 

Maedhros frowned at Maglor in confusion.  Maglor shrugged at him, equally puzzled.  He had ascribed Elros’s recent bad temper and irritability to the rain, but it seemed that a morning in the sunshine had not improved matters.  Elros looked at the ground, then glanced at Maedhros.  “I want Uncle Maedhros to help me,” he said, in a very small voice.

 

“All right.”  Maedhros moved to stand near the horse.  Elros moved his leg and prepared to jump.  Maedhros held out both of his arms.  Elros glanced at the stump of the right, then seized Maedhros’s left hand with both of his own.  He jumped quickly, and landed well.  “Good for you,” Maedhros said.  “You were very brave.  Perhaps I shall teach you how to dismount from my charger by yourself while I am here.  Would you like that?”

 

“Oh, yes, please!”  Elros nodded his head vigorously.  Elrond looked to Maglor for permission.  Maglor shrugged, then nodded.

 

“I see no reason why not.  You are both outgrowing your ponies anyway.  If you can dismount from a war charger such as this one, you will have no trouble with the smaller horses in our stables.”

 

 

 

Maedhros’s arrival caused a great deal of activity.  He would stay at the house with Maglor and the boys, and Maglor arranged for Maedhros’s small party of guards to be billeted with some of his own men.  Over the years, many friendships had formed this way, friendships which had proved invaluable when the remaining sons of Fëanor allied in some minor skirmish against Morgoth’s forces.  Once he had seen to Maedhros’s men, Maglor inspected Elros and Elrond.  Elros was the cleaner of the two, so Maglor sent him to fetch linens and help Maedhros make up the bed in the best guest chamber.  He directed Elrond to go outside, wash his hands, and then fetch onions and dried sage from the cellar.  Maglor went to the yard to select a goose to roast for dinner that night.

 

The news about the goose pleased Elrond.  He did not like the flock of geese that flapped their wings and honked at him, and had chased him more than once when he was little.  As far as Elrond was concerned, the best goose was a roasted goose stuffed with sage and onions.  This treat did not appear on the table very often, but Maedhros’s visit demanded a special company dinner.  He went outside, dipped cold water from the rain barrel into the battered metal basin that stood nearby, and washed the dirt off of his face and hands.  Then, before his body had a chance to warm up, he hurried down into the cellar.  He took three onions and a big bunch of sage, and brought them into the kitchen.

 

Maglor was not there.  Elrond went out back to the poultry shed, and found Maglor busily plucking the goose he had killed.  “Maglor,” Elrond said, “I brought the sage and onions.”

 

Maglor looked up and nodded, but did not stop pulling feathers.  “Good.  Thank you, Elrond.  Will you move the feather bin over to me?  I am almost finished with this.”

 

Elrond located the feather bin in the corner.  It consisted of a wooden frame that held two large sacks.  One was half-full of down, and the other held quills that they would carve into pens.  It was not heavy, and Elrond easily dragged it over to stand next to Maglor. 

 

“Thank you.”  Maglor began to dump handfuls of down into one bag.  Without being asked, Elrond picked out the quills and put them in the other bag.  They worked together in silence for a time.

 

“Maglor?” Elrond asked. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“What will you do with the down feathers?”

 

“I am saving them to make a featherbed for you and Elros,” Maglor said.  “It will keep you warm in the wintertime without hot irons in your bed.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

Elrond was quiet for a while longer, as he separated the last of the quill feathers and laid them gently in their bag.  When he finished, Maglor was wiping the table clean.  Elrond pushed the feather bin back to its corner, and came back to the table.  He knotted his hands, and stared at his feet.

 

“Maglor?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Is Elros angry at me?”

 

Maglor stopped wiping, and looked at Elrond with a small, concerned frown on his face.  “No,” he said.  “I do not think Elros is angry at you.  He has been very angry for the past few days, and I am worried about him, but I do not think his anger is directed at you.”

 

“Oh.  Maglor?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you think Uncle Maedhros can make Elros happy again?  I do not like it when Elros is angry.”

 

Maglor wiped his hands and put an arm around Elrond’s shoulders.  “I do not like it when Elros is unhappy, either.  I do not know if Maedhros will manage to cheer him, but you may take heart.  Elros cannot remain angry forever.  Eventually, something will happen, and he will release his anger and become his cheerful self again.”

 

This was not exactly encouraging, but Elrond supposed it was the best answer Maglor was likely to give him.  “I hope it happens soon,” he said.

 

“I do, too.”  Maglor gave him a friendly nudge.  “Come.  Let us take this goose into the kitchen and start him roasting so that he will be done in time for dinner.”