By My Father's Light by Jarakrisafis

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"Be well my son". My father's voice is soft, sorrow suppressed behind a calm mask.

I manage a smile, probably more of a grimace, before I turn my horse, riding away from the only home I can remember.

A home I will most likely never see again.

It seems even the sky is mocking me, grey clouds gathering to drown my grey mood.

A fair sight I will no doubt be when I reach my destination if they continue to gather.

True foresight perhaps? Feels like it as I push my dripping hair back from my face and cower further under my hood. The guards at the gates do little more than ask my business, seems they too do not appreciate the unceasing rain.

My ride to the centre of town is unhurried, for I had never seen such a sight. Where I had lived everything was military precise, here there is only chaos, organised chaos perhaps, but still chaos.

I am not given long to contemplate upon reaching my destination. Indeed, I barely give my name before I am being dragged to a rather ornate throne room.

The two elves engaged in a quiet conference at the far end of the hall both turned to look at what has prompted such confusion and haste.

"My Lord." One of the elves who was all but dragging me said with a quick bow. "A messenger bearing the colours of the Kinslayers, he says he is named Elrond."

The eyes of both elves widened as they strode over. "Definitely Eärendilion." The white haired, bearded elf said as he studied my face.

"Makalaurion." I countered, flipping a wet braid over my shoulder, suddenly conscious of the puddle of rain water forming beneath my cloak.

"You would forsake your own father for a Kinslayer?" The younger of the two elves sounded scandalised.

"Maglor is the only father I remember." I said, putting an emphasis on his name, even as I drew out my message pouch. Let its content distract them from questioning me further, at least until I had rested.

The young elf lifted a dark eyebrow as he finished reading the scroll.

I knew what it said as I had watched my father write it, the elaborate tengwar a direct contrast to the dark message contained within.

"Ereinion?" Ah, so this is the young King. The scroll was passed to the white haired elf before the Kings attention was returned to me.

"Maglor has sent you to enter my service, Elrond Eärendilion, whilst your brother now lives amongst the secondborn."

"Makalaurion." I restated.

The white haired elf snorted slightly. "There are not many who would look too kindly on Kinslayers here, better to keep your birth name."

"I see." I said as the King instructed the guards who had brought me up to go prepare chambers.

"I do hope you will be happy here, Elrond."

I inclined my head, there was not much else I could do, this place is home now, whether I wished it to be or not.

I was quickly shown to a room, fresh clothing laid out, a bath drawn and then food brought. A far cry from Himring; where the closest to room service was to be found in the healing hall.

Dry, warm and fed I moved to the window, the strange scent of salt lingering, even the very air is different here.

Spotting Gil-Estel slowly winding its way across the heavens I smiled, at least some things were still the same.

My smile quickly faded as I remembered the last time I had sat and watched Eärendil sail the sky.

It had been a busy day and I had retreated to one of the towers for solitude, I do not remember when Maglor joined me, only of becoming slowly aware that there was another presence beside me.

"You are troubled, my son?"

"You know Elros wishes to leave with the human caravan."

"Your brother has never been happy here." Maglor said as he gracefully sank to the ground beside me.

I sighed, leaning into Maglor's warmth, "I don't want him to leave."

"You would rather keep him here?"

I closed my eyes, snuggling further into my foster fathers robes. "No, I," I shook my head slightly; "I couldn't do that."

"Already wise for one so young." He mused quietly, his voice vibrating where my head rested on his chest.

"All things change in time." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "You are so alike in features; it is often surprising how different your fëar are."

"I fear he will choose the life of the second born." I finally said, speaking the fear I had been nursing for many weeks.

"So?"

"So?" I repeated as I pulled away to be able to see his face. "He'll die!"

"You fear you will lose him?" He said as his arm tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. His other hand lifted to point at the new star which was starting it's nightly trek across the sky. "What do you see?"

"Gil-Estel, Eärendil, my blood father sailing the heavens with a Silmaril." I said, not caring that I had reminded my foster father of his fathers jewel.

"I see my father." Surprised I twisted to look up at Maglor. "Every-time Gil-Estel rises I see my fathers Silmaril, and so I am reminded of my father. He lives on through me."

"So, as long as I remember Elros he will live on." I asked softly as I turned my eyes back to the bright jewel sailing through the dark sky.

"Aye," was all that Maglor said in response.

We sat together for a long time watching the passage of Vingilot and its Silmaril over the world, Maglor a solid comforting presence beside me.



Blinking up at Gil-Estel I swiped at the moisture that had gathered on my cheeks. Eärendilion they might call me, but I would not forget Maglor. I would keep him alive in my heart.




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