Strands by Flora-lass

Strands

There's a tap at the door, and Maglor turns towards it. Elrond is looking in with a rather nervous expression, but he enters when he sees Maglor's welcoming smile.

Maglor always has to restrain himself when the twins seem to want something from him. It makes him as happy as anything can - but he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve it…

‘What can I do for you?’ he asks. ‘Is everything all right?’ These days he usually sees the twins at breakfast, or he or Maedhros goes to find them if they don't appear. (Thankfully, it’s no longer the case that they simply don't want to get out of bed).

‘Would you…would you do my hair?’ Elrond sounds unsure if he should ask, but Maglor can now see that he’s twisting a ribbon between his fingers.

‘Of course! It would be a pleasure,’ Maglor says, trying not to sound too delighted. ‘Come and sit down.’

He is delighted, though. He lets the twins see to their own hair, most of the time - there are more important things to fuss about, and at first they were clearly uncomfortable with him touching it. But recently he’s seen Elrond spending more time on his, and has once or twice offered to help. Elrond hasn’t refused, and has seemed content with the results - but this is the first time he’s actually come to Maglor and asked him.

‘Shall I do what I did last time? It suited you very well, even if I say so myself!’

‘Yes please. I liked it a lot.’

Maglor sets to work with a comb, easing out the tangles as gently as he can. Elrond winces a couple of times, but doesn't complain.

‘I'm sorry, I'm trying so hard not to hurt you,’ Maglor says (which, he thinks, could apply to a lot of other things besides hair-combing). ‘Where's Elros, by the way?’

‘Gone off to breakfast. He's always so hungry now, and didnt want to wait for me. He hardly ever combs his hair, unless you tell him to!’

‘I've noticed!’ Maglor laughs. ‘Still, it's good that he wants to be up and eating. But it's also good to want to look tidy, and I'm glad you do. There, I think that's all the tangles out. You can always do that part yourself, you know, even if you want me to do the braiding. It might hurt less!’

‘I like it when you do it,’ Elrond says, although he doesn't say why. ‘And it doesn't hurt, much. How did you get so good at doing hair?’

‘Well, I had five younger brothers, after all. There was always someone needing a bit of help! And I sometimes do Maedhros’, when he's in the mood.’

‘You had brothers who were twins, didn't you?’

‘Yes, we did.’ Maglor considers what else to say, as he makes a start on the braiding. He and Maedhros don't often talk about their brothers, and especially not in front of Elrond and Elros. It’s all too raw and painful, and the manner of their deaths would only reinforce the terrifying image they are trying so hard to overcome. And the loss of one set of twins and the gaining of another are so closely intertwined…but perhaps this is a chance to speak about Amrod and Amras in happier times.

‘The youngest ones were twins, and their hair was like Maedhros’. They were much more alike than you and Elros are, especially when they were very young, and they loved it when people couldn't tell them apart. They called each other by the same name, and wanted to do everything together. And they wanted their hair done in exactly the same way! Often they'd sit side by side and Maedhros and I would do one each...’

Maglor trails off, not sure how to go on and, if he's honest, finding it hard to say anything at all. But Elrond has been listening, and seems to be giving the matter careful thought.

‘I like being different from Elros,’ he says at last. ‘I like that we really care about each other, but we like different things - it's interesting. We can tell each other what we've been doing. And I wouldn't want my hair to be as messy as his! But I'd hate it if he wasn't there, even when he's being annoying.’

‘I'd hate to be without Maedhros,’ Maglor murmurs, and immediately wishes he hadn't said that - it feels like too much fear to be burdening a child with. ‘Nearly done,’ he says, briskly. ‘Pass me your ribbon.’

‘I'll teach you how to do this yourself one day,’ Maglor continues. ‘It takes a bit of practice, but I'm sure you'll manage it. Just in case I'm not around…’

Elrond tenses, and Maglor realises he’s alarmed him. It's comforting to know that Elrond wants him around, but it's worrying too. He leans forward to get a glimpse of Elrond's face, but quickly moves back again. He wonders if one of the reasons Elrond likes having his hair done is that they can talk without having to look at each other.

‘Don't look so worried! I promise I'll keep doing your hair for as long as I possibly can, if you want me to. And even if I can't, it won't be because I didn't want to. Don't ever forget that.’

Elrond actually turns round to look at him for a moment, his eyes full of questions he doesn't yet know how to ask.

‘Hug?’ Maglor offers. He never presumes, although he generally has a good idea now of when Elrond wants one. Elrond nods, and Maglor wraps his arms around him from behind, hoping against hope that there will be enough time for all his questions to be answered.

Elrond reaches up to feel his new braid, and his hand brushes a strand of Maglor's hair which has fallen forward.

‘Thank you,’ he says, softly. And then, ‘Does anyone ever do your hair? Maybe…maybe if I get good at it, I could do it for you sometimes - if you wanted me to?’

Maglor can scarcely reply for the lump in his throat. ‘I would - like that very much,’ he manages, eventually.

He gives Elrond's shoulders a final squeeze, and straightens up. ‘Time for breakfast!’ he announces cheerfully. ‘Assuming Elros hasn't eaten it all, of course.’

As they walk off together, Maglor notices something new about Elrond - he has a certain dignity. It's a strange way to describe someone so young, but he can't think of anything better. Especially with the way he's holding up his head…

Maglor cherishes the moment, and looks forward to the day when he'll be proud of his new braid, too.