Don't You Ever Look Away by Elrond's Library  

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Chapter 5

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They snuck away from Arafinwë’s camp under the cover of pre-dawn fog, disappearing into the unfamiliar trees and pacing the unfamiliar land of Beleriand. 

Findekánë followed her wife, dark cloak covering her bright red hair, as their horses ate up the miles, following the latest rumors and maps to where they thought the last son of Fëanáro might be hiding. 

Beleriand was beautiful, she thought as they camped. They had been prioritizing speed over aught else, not hunting, sleeping lightly and not for long. But sometimes, when Maitindë eased the punishing pace to rest the horses, they let themselves look, truly look at the land. 

To the south, rolling hills of green, sparkling rivers and waterfalls, flowers bright, fields of wheat and corn waving in the distance. 

Looking north filled them with dread. Dark clouds and lightning heralded the war that their host was slowly making their way towards. 

They did not talk much aloud, relying on their marriage bond to communicate important information. Otherwise, they rode, or walked, in silence. 

Finally, Amon Ereb rose out of the early morning mists. Maitindë kept her hood up, but a guard at the gate of the fortress recognized Findekánë and let them in with only a little fuss. 

A young man with familiar features and striking grey eyes met them in the courtyard. Findekánë rejoiced internally, that at least one of Elwing and Eärendil’s boys had survived.

“Hail, strangers, be welcome to Amon Ereb” he called in Sindarin, bowing slightly. “I am Elros. My brother has gone to fetch the Lord.” 

The pair dismounted, and Findekánë handed the reins to her wife, still keeping her face hidden in the deep folds of the cloak. She responded in kind, grateful for Idril’s lessons, but the language was still shaky on her tongue. “Hail, Elros. I am Princess Findekánë, Fingwen, of Valinor, and my companion. I believe I am kin to the Lord of this place.”

Elros bowed again, lower, to the correct degree now that he knew her standing. His gaze went blank in the way of someone using ósanwë, then he nodded to himself. Apparently not impressed with her Sindarin, he responded in softly accented Quenya. “If you’ll follow me, Princess. We’ll find him in his study.”

Amon Ereb was comfortably appointed at first glance, though looking deeper, the carpets had not been beaten in a long time, soot stained the walls and ceiling, and it was a little drafty in places. Like they had not had time, or funds, or manpower for upkeep of the fortress.

Elros led them in silence. Maitindë followed a few steps behind. Findekánë tried to breathe deeper, to ease the anxiety in her gut, but it wasn’t just hers she was trying to calm. All too soon, she was approaching the open door, Elros’ twin (and thank the Valar both were alive) approaching from down the hall with a pot of tea and a loaf of bread on a tray. Findekánë smiled, motioning for the other twin, who must be Elrond, to go before her, before she too entered. 

Makalaurë stood with his back to the door, hair shorter than it should be, braids simple. His clothes had seen better days. Findekánë cast a critical eye over the room. Simple chairs, bookshelves brimming with paper, desk clean but for an account book. Elrond set the tray on a side table, and started pouring tea.

He turned, a strained smile on his face. “Cousin Findekánë,” he said in Quenya, coming forward to clasp her hands and kiss her cheek. 

She smiled, returning the greeting. “You’re a hard man to find rumors of,” she commented, squeezing his hands before stepping back. “But we managed, and it’s good to see you alive, and the twins too.”

He blinked. “We?”

Maitindë chose that moment to come in, conveniently if dramatically making it unnecessary to answer. 

“Maitindë?!” Makalaurë almost yelled. Elros snuck past the backs of the adults, joining Elrond. “Sister, oh, no, Maitindë, why are you here?”

“Looking for you, idiot,” she raised a single eyebrow, looking like Nerdanel’s twin for a solid second. “What in the Allfather’s hairy nutsack have you been doing?!”

One of the twins, Elros, she thought, snorted, covering his mouth with a guilty look as Makalaurë shot a nasty look over his shoulder. 

Findekánë shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Come on. Let’s all sit and talk. We have news from Valinor, and from Eärendil and Elwing.”

“Ada and Naneth?” the other twin, Elrond, asked, eyes wide. He suddenly looked so much younger. “They’re alive?”

Findekánë nodded, a soft smile. “Yes, and they’re with the rest of the people we came with.” She glanced at Makalaurë, who had let his face go carefully blank. “Cousin, the Valar are bringing war to Beleriand. Tulkas and Oromë and Eönwë are leading all of Valinor against the Enemy.”

He collapsed in a chair, like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut. Maitindë approached, ran her fingers through his hair. He leaned forward, burying his head in her belly, wrapping his arms around her thighs. Findekánë could hear muffled sobs from her skirts. 

Maitindë shot Findekánë a look, and she nodded. Let me know when he’s ready to talk, she pushed to Maitindë as she ushered the twins out of the room. 

As she closed the door, she could hear Makalaurë wail, “I’ve failed and Atar …”

With a sigh, she shook her head. Maitindë could handle her brother. 

“Who is she?” Elros asked. “She didn’t say, and we didn’t See her arriving.”

Findekánë smiled. “That’s Maitindë, Makalaurë’s older sister. We stayed behind in Valinor when he left.”

“Because you’re girls?”

Findekánë snorted. “Because our fathers wished for us not to. Our gender was a factor, but my sister came over the Ice with my brothers.”

Elros nodded easily. They were both taller than her, built like twigs, but she could tell they were on the cusp of building out, that sheer strength would come to them in time. They looked good, despite everything she had heard about their situation. She had expected worse. 

“You’ve seen our parents?” Elrond said, leading her to the kitchens. Elros immediately started making another pot of tea, listening to them talk. 

“Yes, they’re both well. And Eärendil’s parents too.” 

“Don’t blame them for what happened at Sirion,” Elrond said, too perceptively. “We got separated in the chaos. They had no way to know we were still alive.”

“They have been mourning you for the last fifteen years.” 

“As have we, but now you say they are all, to the last, alive and well. They are on these shores again.” He accepted a mug from his brother. “We might see them again. You’ve given us hope, Princess Findekánë.”

“Findekánë, please. You are, however distantly, my nephews.”

They talked late into the afternoon, trading stories about Amon Ereb and Tirion. The boys made dinner, working seamlessly in a way that betrayed how deep of an ósanwë bond they shared. In that way, they reminded her of little Ambarussa, and simpler times. 

Eventually Maitindë and Makalaurë joined them. Both looked as though they had been crying, but Maitindë had a current of satisfaction running behind her exhausted face. 

Don’t say anything yet, Maitindë whispered in her mind. Makalaurë has ceded to me his position of Head of House for at least the next thousand years, unless some extenuating circumstances crop up. We are leaving with the boys in three days. I’m taking them all home.”