6. The Country Of The Heart

The supply wagon creaked and swayed gently as it trundled over roads that were little more than trails through the wilderness of Beleriand. The company of soldiers surrounding the wagon rode with heavy heart, for they had recently suffered severe losses in a battle that had resulted in only the merest shell of a victory. Now, they returned from the sad duty of burying Amrod and Amras, the twin sons of Fëanor, who had died in the battle for the keep of Sirion. Maedhros, the leader of the company, rode straight and tall at their head, not even bothering to wipe at the tears flowing down his face. He had buried all but one of his little brothers, and he feared his heart would break beyond repair if anything were to happen to Maglor.

But for now, at least, Maglor was safe. He sat in a nest of blankets in the supply wagon, fast asleep, with his arms around the two little boys nestled at his side. In his fresh, raw grief over Amrod and Amras, Maglor had spotted the sons of Elwing and taken them into his heart in that same instant. Despite Maedhros’s warnings, Maglor would not be parted from the children. And so they lived, and the warm weight of their sleeping bodies comforted Maglor in his sleep, and when he soothed their nightmares, his own subsided as well.

The procession halted, and Maglor gradually became aware of a hand gently stroking his hair and patting his cheek. He blinked his eyes, and saw Maedhros’s face. “Wake up, Maglor,” Maedhros said. “We will make camp for the night here, and I will send a messenger ahead to your house to alert them to your arrival. We should reach it tomorrow afternoon.”

“Mmm, yes.” Maglor rubbed sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts. “Have them ask around the village for children’s clothing that I might borrow, and perhaps, if some good lady has some old toys that could be spared, at least until I can make new ones . . . “ He smiled at the children sleeping in his arms. The ghost of a smile flitted across Maedhros’s face as well.

“I can see that you will care for them well,” Maedhros said. “You have already begun to plan for their arrival.”

Maglor shrugged. “We left Sirion in such a hurry, there was no time to gather much beyond their cloaks and their favorite stuffed toys. I will have to wash these traveling clothes when we arrive home.” He rubbed his thumb over a bloodstain on the hem of one tiny shirt. “Or burn them.”

The smile faded from Maedhros’s face. “I suppose you are right. Is that Elrond?”

“Elros.”

“I see.” The twin in question shifted a little in his sleep, and put his thumb in his mouth. Maedhros nodded. “Elros is the one who sucks his thumb.”

The corner of Maglor’s mouth twitched. “It is not that simple. They both do it, but not at the same time.” He turned his attention to the boys, tightening his embrace and running his fingers lightly through their hair so that they would wake without knowing that he had caused them to do so. Elros and Elrond snuffled and blinked, snuggling closer against Maglor as they left the world of dreams behind. Maglor drew his legs up and shifted the boys onto his lap, then kissed the top of each head, breathing in the rich, heavy scent of sleepy children. He was only partially aware of Maedhros withdrawing to leave them in peace.

Just after noon the next day, the company reached Himring. Here their paths parted. Maedhros would lead his troops along one road to his keep, set high on a hill where he could monitor all of the comings and goings into the valley. Maglor, with the twins and the rest of his company, would continue on down another road to the valley where Maglor maintained a farmstead, and where his men dwelled nearby in a small village.

At the parting of the ways, Maedhros called a halt so that they could sort out cargoes of supplies and gear, and so that he could bid his brother farewell. He dismounted, and went to Maglor’s side. Maglor paused in unloading the wagon in which he and the boys had ridden.

“Thank you,” Maedhros said. “Thank you for your presence and that of your men. I know that I cannot repay their sacrifices of blood and suffering, but I am gratified at their service.”

Maglor could not quite bring himself to look Maedhros in the eye. “I swore an Oath, long ago,” he murmured. “Providing troops for this campaign was part of that Oath. My men follow me willingly, at least for now.”

Maedhros sighed. “I know that we did not recover the Silmarils,” he said. “But I promise you that Amrod and Amras did not die in vain. Someday, we will recover Father’s jewels.”

“And that will soothe all the hurts we have accumulated over the years.” Maglor let out a bitter laugh that was more than half a snort. Maedhros winced.

“No, it will not,” he answered. “But it will fulfill our Oath, the promise we made to Father as he lay dying in your arms.”

“Perhaps.” Maglor glanced up at Maedhros’s face, then looked away again. “In any event, I have jewels of my own now. I know that I am bound to follow your commands as the head of the House of Fëanor, but I beg you not to call me to war while Elros and Elrond are still small. We owe them that much, at least.”

Maedhros pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded. “I will give you that time. I think it will do us both good to know that we will not be going to war again for a while.” Maedhros moved to embrace his brother, but Maglor stiffened and turned his head to one side. With a forced smile, Maedhros contented himself with a hand on Maglor’s arm.

“Farewell for now, Maglor,” he murmured. “Raise them well.”

Maglor gave a quick, convulsive nod, and climbed onto the seat of the wagon at the head of his train. He chirruped to the horses and drove away down the hill. Maedhros stood and watched him go. For a moment, he thought he saw a tiny hand waving farewell to him from the wagon box.

Maglor arrived home just as the sun was beginning to set. The rich light promised a beautiful sunset, golden as ripe wheat, red as blood. Maglor managed a small, private smile. The sunsets in the valley were a treasure that he had longed to share with someone ever since he had moved there. Now he had the boys, and the sunsets need no longer be a solitary pleasure.

He climbed down from the wagon seat and went around to the box to lift first Elros, then Elrond out of the wagon. A tall, gangly lad who lived in the village emerged from Maglor’s great house and took the horses’ harness. The twins clung to Maglor’s legs and regarded the boy suspiciously, but Maglor smiled at him.

“Thank you, Mebedir,” he said.

Mebedir bobbed a greeting back at him. “It is my pleasure, Lord Maglor,” he answered. “Lord Maedhros’s messenger said that you would be arriving with two children, and Naneth came up to the house to get a little supper started for you. She is inside now.”

“That is most kind of her.”

Mebedir smiled. “She brought a bundle of old clothes as well, and you will find them just inside the door. She told me to tell you so that you would not trip on the way in.”

Maglor chuckled. “I thank you for the warning, then.”

Mebedir suddenly spotted the twins, and knelt down for a closer look. “Oh, are those the boys?” he breathed. “They are adorable.” He smiled at them. Elros immediately buried his face in Maglor’s leg, but Elrond risked a brief glance at Mebedir. Maglor reached down and ruffled the twins’ hair.

“I think they are a little shy right now,” he said. “They have had a long, difficult journey, and supper and bed are in order for them now.”

“I understand.” Mebedir rose to his feet, bowed, and led the horses away to the stable. Maglor watched him go, then took the twins’ hands.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said. “Are you hungry? Mistress Belbeneth will have something good to eat waiting for us inside.” With that, he led Elros and Elrond inside, making sure to step around the bundle of children’s clothing sitting on the floor near the entrance. The house was warm, and an appetizing scent filled the air.

Mebedir’s mother, Belbeneth, peered around the kitchen into the main room. “Lord Maglor!” she cried. “Be welcome in your home. I am roasting a chicken for you and the boys, for you must be ready for some food now. It is almost ready to eat. You go to the table, and I will bring it out to you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Maglor knelt down and removed the twins’ cloaks, hanging them next to his own on hooks near the door. “Let us go wash our hands and faces for supper,” he said. “Are you big enough to wash yourselves, or would you like help?”

Elros and Elrond glanced at each other. “We can wash ourselves,” Elrond whispered.

“But we are not big enough to hold the pitcher,” Elros added. “Nana says we might drop it and hurt ourselves.”

“That is very wise of her,” Maglor said. Then, before the twins could think any further about what had become of their mother, he patted them on the shoulders and stood up, gathering the bundle of clothes into his arms. “Come with me, and I will bring these clothes upstairs,” he said. “Mistress Belbeneth brought them here just for you, so you will have fresh things to wear tomorrow.”

He carried the bundle to the stairs, and noted with a small flash of pleasure that Elros and Elrond followed him, holding hands and huddling close together.

Supper was a quiet affair, despite Mistress Belbeneth’s attempts to engage the boys in conversation as she cut slices of chicken breast into bite-size morsels on their plates. “They will find their tongues soon enough,” she concluded. “Poor things, the journey from Sirion must have been hard on them.”

“The battle, too,” Maglor said. “I am glad that your husband survived it, at least.”

Mistress Belbeneth nodded, then clasped Maglor’s hand briefly. “I am so sorry to hear about your brothers, my Lord,” she said.

Maglor glanced down at his food and pressed his lips together. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I will miss them. But you still have Mórion. Mebedir has not lost his father, and I am glad of that.”

A small smile bloomed on Mistress Belbeneth’s face. “By your leave, my Lord –“

“Yes, of course.” Maglor gave her hand a squeeze. “Go to him. You have been more than kind to us. I think we can manage things here. Give him my thanks.”

She bobbed a curtsey, waggled her fingers at Elros and Elrond, and left. Maglor watched her go, then turned to the boys. They stared at him, silently gnawing on pieces of chicken and baby carrots. Maglor began to eat his own supper, and allowed himself to enjoy the presence of company at the table.

Elros and Elrond said nothing during the meal, but carried their plates into the kitchen nicely enough, and watched with some interest as Maglor washed the dishes. He wondered if they were old enough to learn to wipe dishes, and resolved to find out at breakfast the next morning. Tonight, he would put them to bed and hope that sleep would find them.

Maglor put the dishes away in their cupboard. “It is bedtime now,” he said. “Run and fetch your stuffed toys, and I will show you to your chamber.” Elros and Elrond scampered off. When they returned, Maglor led them upstairs again, and opened the door to his best guest chamber, across the corridor from his own bedchamber.

“This will be yours,” he said. “It does not look like much now, but the bed is soft and warm, and you will soon have new toys to play with.” He poured water into the washbasin and left the twins to wash while he searched through the bundle of clothes, which he had left on the writing desk. Before long, he found two small nightshirts. “Shall we see if these fit you?” he asked.

The nightshirts turned out to be slightly too large, but Maglor did not mind. Elros and Elrond would grow into the shirts soon enough. He turned down the blankets and helped the boys climb into the bed. They wriggled and squirmed until they lay comfortably together, both dark heads on one pillow. For a moment, they looked so much like Amrod and Amras that Maglor could not prevent a few tears from spilling down his face.

“Are you sad?” Elrond asked softly.

Maglor nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Why are you sad?” Elrond asked.

“Because my baby brothers are dead.”

“Did they die in the big fight?”

Maglor nodded again. Elrond stuck his thumb in his mouth. Elros wiggled a little.

“Did Nana die in the fight, too?” he asked.

The question brought Maglor up short. The look of desperation on Elwing’s face as she hurled herself out of the window haunted his dreams. They had not been able to find her body after the battle, nor any trace of blood on the rocks, but Maglor could not imagine that anyone could have survived that fall. “I am not certain,” he said, “but it is likely that she did die.”

Elros’s eyes filled with tears, and Maglor reached out to stroke his hair. Elrond removed his thumb from his mouth and tugged at Maglor’s sleeve. “Are you Ada?” he asked.

Briefly, Maglor wondered if the horror of the battle at Sirion had damaged Elrond’s mind. “No, I am not,” he said. “Why did you think that?”

Elrond gave a disappointed little sigh. “Ada is a sailor,” he explained, “and we never see him.”

“Nana said he would come for us one day,” Elros added. “She said Ada would come and take care of us, and we would be a real family again.”

There was something in Elros’s voice that made Maglor shiver inside. He knelt by the bed and gathered both twins into a firm embrace. “We will be a family,” he said. “I am not your father, but I promise you that I will love you and care for you just as much as your father would. I swear it to you on my life. You will be as my own children to me.”

Elros put his arms around Maglor’s neck and clung to him. Elrond hesitated. “What if Ada comes back?”

Maglor did not believe for an instant that Eärendil would ever return to his sons, but he saw no need to mention this to Elrond in that moment. “Then he will find his sons hale and hearty and glad to see him.” This answer seemed to satisfy Elrond, and he, too, embraced Maglor.

Eventually, Maglor laid the boys back on their pillow, and tucked the blanket beneath their chins.

“Will you sing us a lullaby?” Elrond asked. Both twins had become fond of Maglor’s singing during their long journey from Sirion. Maglor smiled and began a long ballad about the romance of Elwë and Melian, a subject certain to lull small children to sleep.

The next morning, Maglor dressed Elros and Elrond in fresh clothes from Mistress Belbeneth’s bundle, and used their filthy, blood-stained old clothes to start the fire that would cook their breakfast. As they ate, he described the valley and the farm outside the house until Elros and Elrond were fairly bursting with eagerness to explore it.

“You may run and play as much as you like today,” Maglor told them as they finished eating, “but there is one small task you must do first.”

With that, he gathered his own dishes and took them to the kitchen. The boys followed with their own plates. Maglor washed them and then gave each twin a towel and showed them how to wipe the dishes. As he had hoped, they were old enough to do this simple chore, and held the plates carefully so as not to drop them.

“You did that very well,” Maglor said when they finished. “If you can do that for every meal, it will be a great help to me. What do you say? Will this be your own special job?”

Elros and Elrond nodded enthusiastically, proud of their efforts. Maglor led them out of the kitchen and opened the door. “Let us go and visit the animals in the farmyard,” he said. “I am sure they would love to become acquainted with two such charming little boys as yourselves.”

Elros and Elrond cheered, and fairly dragged Maglor into the yard. Mórion and Mebedir, who had come to help on the farm while Maglor settled the boys, introduced them to the flock of chickens and the two goats that sniffed eagerly at the newcomers in their world. The geese proved less friendly, hissing and flapping their wings. One even attempted to bite Elrond, who hid behind Maglor, and would only be coaxed out by Mebedir holding a kitten from a new litter he had found in the barn.

The horses and cows who lived with the cats in the barn seemed large and threatening to little boys, but proved, upon closer acquaintance, to be placid and friendly. Maglor privately decided to acquire ponies for the boys when they were a little older. He knew that Maedhros sometimes received bands of Dwarves traveling through Himring. Perhaps he could negotiate with one such band through Maedhros for two sturdy, dependable ponies.

Two small bodies flung themselves at him and distracted him from his plans. “Do we really get to stay here with the horses and the chickens and the kitties?” Elrond asked.

“As long as you wish,” Maglor said, “though I hope that you wish to stay until you are all grown up.”

The twins looked at each other and nodded. “We will stay if you will be our new Ada,” Elros said.

Elrond poked him. “He is not our Ada. He said so, last night.”

Elros frowned, and poked out his lower lip. He regarded Maglor suspiciously. “Well, what are you, then, if you are not our Ada?”

Maglor blinked. He had not considered this question. “I suppose I am your guardian,” he said slowly.

“Guar-di-an.” Elrond sounded the word out carefully. Elros made a face at the word.

Maglor burst out laughing. “Oh, please! You cannot call me that. I have never cared for titles. My name is Maglor, and you may use that.”

Elros smiled. “Maglor.”

“Maglor,” Elrond echoed.

Maglor knelt down in front of them. “Yes. And you are Elros and Elrond.” He drew them close in a loose embrace. “And, beginning right now, we are a family.”