Teitho Challenge Prompt: Customs. This story received second place.

Summary: Elwing names her newborn sons.

"Now Elrond was a word for the firmament, the starry dome as it appeared like a roof to Arda; and it was given by Elwing in memory of the great Hall of the Throne of Elwë in the midst of his stronghold of Menegroth that was called the Menelrond [heaven-dome]...." ~ The Peoples of Middle-Earth, HoME Vol 12, Part 2, Ch. 12, The Problem of Ros

First New Moon of Ethuil, 532^nd Year of the First Age

"This place is lousy with Elven lords," Erellont complained, casting a scowl at the Elves mingling around the entrance to the reed-thatched Great Hall of the Sirion Havens.

This declaration earned the young man an amused glance from Galdor, once the Lord of House of the Tree in Gondolin. It also garnered a scowl from Oropher, who had come with his father, Malgalad, from the isle of Balar along with Círdan and Ereinion Gil-galad. It was fortunate that the ellon was conversing with his cousin Celeborn as he was known to be somewhat rash and overly passionate. Eärendil did his best to smile but only managed a grimace. He tried not to look at the doors of the Great Hall as a muffled groan of pain, that the Mortal could not hear, emanated from inside.

Eärendil briefly wondered how Erellont managed to talk his way past the dozen or so spear wielding guards posted around the entrances to the courtyard. He had recently befriended the Man, who was the son of a shipwright and possessed a keen sense of humor. He was not sure he wanted the young Mortal here. The yard already felt crowded for not only were Círdan and his contingent of Elves present but also most of his and Elwing's Ruling Council. It was composed of two members each of those peoples who now called the growing refugee town at the Mouth of Sirion home.

Tuor’s foster father, Annael, and Elthorn represented the interests of the Mithrim Sindar who once dwelt in Hithlum. Lord Celeborn and Lord Amdir stood for the remaining Doriathrim while Lords Egalmoth and Galdor did likewise for those whom survived Gondolin. Of the two Men on his Council, only one was present. Halzaur was tall with the flaxen hair of House Hador, of which he was one of the few surviving nobles. And there were still others in the small crowd exchanging muted conversation. Most, such as Voronwë and Hendor, were old friends yet some, such as Lord Elemmacil of Gondolin, he scarcely knew.

He glanced at the sun, noting that it was past midday.

That morning, a little after dawn, Elwing had awoken him saying her waters had broken. Eärendil had hastened into the Hall, for their chamber was one of the rooms that lined its eastern wall. He had opened the door to the right of his own room, relieved to find it unbarred. This was the quarters allotted to the maiden servants. A half dozen groggy, confused eyes stared up at him from atop their mattress spread out on the stone flags. Eärendil had felt his face flush. He had never stepped foot in that room before nor did he allow any other Man to do so.

He had summoned Zimraneth, his wife's lady's maid. She was a short woman with the dark hair of House of Bëor and a name that was a mixture of Sindarin and Taliska. Such names were common among those Mortals born in the Havens. He had then left the room, closing the door behind him so that she might dress in privacy. He had knocked on another door, this one belonging to Hendor. The ellon had been his mother's servant-retainer and they had been close since his own childhood. It had been Hendor who, when Eärendil was a child, had carried him on his back out of Gondolin as it fell.

He had sent his friend to find Gilmith, the best healer in the Havens. It had not taken long for the Hall to gather a number of servants, both Mortal and Elven, whispering excitedly like wind echoing through a sea cave. He had sent off a lad of about fourteen summers to fetch someone to send word to Círdan in Balar and to inform those on his Ruling Council of what was taking place. He had returned to his quarters and embraced his wife, still laying on their bed, stroking her hair that was soft and dark as a mink's. Her eyes gleamed bright in the dim light of dawn, shining with trepidation and anticipation.

He jumped slightly as Gilmith barged through the door, flanked by a small cohort of midwives from among the Edain. The elleth was of the Falathrim, yet was as golden haired as her brother, Oropher, and father, Malgalad, a grandnephew of Círdan. Eärendil was then politely and firmly ushered out of the room by the women. He waited in the Hall, alternating between pacing and sitting on a bench, idly polishing the gemstones on the hilt of Glamdring, his grandfather Turgon's sword. It took four refusals before the kitchen servants relented from offering Eärendil viands.

It was mid-morning when the first cry of pain rent Eärendil's fae and ears. He wanted to forcehis way into his chamber—Mortal customs be damned—but Voronwë and Hendor had all but dragged him outside. And here he waited, feeling more impotent than he ever had in his adult life. The late spring day would have normally cheered him: The fog had long burned off and the breeze carried the faint scent of flowers along with its usual tang of brine. Eärendil did his utmost not to snap at the well-meaning people who offered him insufferable small talk in a futile attempt to distract him.

It was nearly midday when Erellont walked up to him with a look of consternation upon his face, commenting on the surfeit of Elven rulers present.

"You are comparing Elven lords to lice?" Voronwë asked archly. Eärendil knew his father's friend well enough to realize he was speaking in jest. Erellont, it seemed, did not realize so, as he flushed and hastened to justify himself.

"I merely meant that it is strange for so many people of consequence to linger about, waiting for a babe to be born that is not even related to them," Erellont apologized. "I do not understand why they simply do not wait until someone sends word that the child has arrived."

Voronwë laughed and explained that, among Elves, childbirth was a joyous event in which as many relatives and friends as could possibly come attend. Eärendil said nothing but nodded in agreement. Eärendil's own birth, from his mother's story, was witnessed by Turgon and many of the Lords of the Twelve Houses. He was now deeply regretting his decision to follow Manish childbirth customs. This was the biggest concession he had ever made to his Mortal subjects' sensibilities. Among Men, childbirth was strictly a women's affair. Not even Celeborn, Elwing's closest living relative, had been allowed inside.

"Go fetch me something to drink," he told Erellont. Eärendil did not feel up to a conversation with the young man, for all that they were distant kin. Erellont was descended from Brandir, son of Bregil, of the House of Bëor.

"Do not fear," Voronwë consoled, clapping him on the shoulder as soon as Erellont disappeared into in the hall. "Your sons should arrive soon."

"I have heard Men whisper," Eärendil said quietly. "They think my Taliska is not very good—"

"And you have never seen fit to enlighten them otherwise," the Elf interrupted, wryly.

"I learn more about them that way," he replied with a half-smile. Suddenly, his face fell. "They wonder what I will do if Elwing dies in childbed. Such things are not uncommon with Men."

Voronwë frowned. "I would not be overly concerned with such talk. Your wife has less Mortal blood in her veins than you do."

"I know that," he said, frustration coloring his voice. "Yet what if..."

Eärendil did not finish when Gilmith stepped out into the courtyard declaring the birth of two healthy sons. He all but ran into the Great Hall, abandoning Voronwë without a second thought. The door to their chamber was open and he skidded slightly on the reed-strewn flags in his haste. One of the midwives was pouring sand on the floor over what appeared to be a puddle of blood and other fluids Eärendil did not wish to contemplate. Another woman was replacing the soiled floor reeds with fresh bedstraw, its sweet scent filling their chamber. He paused before their bed taking in his naked wife who was lying propped upright by pillows.

Elwing's face was red and damp with sweat. She looked tired yet also the happiest he had ever seen her since their wedding day. At her breast were two earnestly suckling babes, alike as two stars. They had their mother's sable hair but Eärendil recognized his nose and jaw in their features. Smiling broadly, he caressed the twin’s damp hair, marveling at the tiny ears that were pointed at the tips, just like his wife's. His own ears were rounded as his father’s had been. The twin on his right had his unfocused eyes open and Eärendil saw that they were mist-grey, like Elwing's but with a hint of blue that must have come from him.

It reminded him of the color of the Sea on a cloudy day.

"Which one is eldest?" he asked, gently.

"This one," she indicated with her head: the son with his eyes open.

"Have you considered a name?" This was a point of contention between them. Eärendil was raised among the Noldor, who gave their children two names, one chosen by each parent. However, Elwing was the daughter of the Sindar and they gave children only one name agreed upon by both spouses. They ended up compromising with both customs: Elwing would name both boys something that he agreed with.

"I shall call him Elrond," she said tentatively. "After the Menelrond."

"Of course," he murmured. Elwing had never gotten over losing her home and family.

"He will bring hope and light to Endor as do the stars," she stated softly, her eyes distant. "On his brow is wisdom, in his hands, healing and in his heat, kindness."

Eärendil went still, staring at his wife. It was not known to many, but Elwing possessed a measure of foresight she had inherited from her foremother Luthien. He knew that she was looking at her sons, not as they were now, but as they would someday be. Among the Noldor who had come from Valinor, it was well known that mother-names were often prophetic. Eärendil wondered if his wife was aware of this tradition or if perhaps there were other Powers influencing her. He long ago stopped believing in coincidence.

"What of the other?" he asked when she fell silent, eyes still unfocused.

Elwing frowned, gazing down at her second born. "He shall be named Elros."

"Star-foam?" he asked, not letting the surprise he felt show in his face.

His wife nodded. "He will inherit his father's love for the Sea," she smiled sadly at him. Elwing was not so enamored of Belegaer as he was and sometimes resented how it drew him away from her for long stretches of time.

"Yet he will possess my love for the stars," his wife looked at her son, frowning pensively. "He will be a great leader of Men and through him all the free races shall be blessed."

Eärendil shuddered as a frisson of Power swirled though the room at his wife's prophecy. The foretelling was a joyous one yet Elwing spoke the words solemnly and with foreboding as if she had uttered a terrible doom. Even the Mortal midwives were able to feel it, features displaying alarm and confusion that were mirrored by the thoughts in their minds. He strode forward and placed his hands on his sons' heads. The elder one unlatched from his wife’s breast and started crying. A moment later, his brother joined him in squalling. 

"Elrond and Elros, I welcome you into the world as sons of my body. May you bear your names well."

Glossary

Ellon (Sindarin): ‘male Elf’.

Elleth (Sindarin): ‘female Elf’.

Fae (Sindarin): ‘soul’.