Day 5 - After
Mar. 5th, 2019 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grundyscribblingBingo Number: B12
Prompts (Cards): Making Choices (Second Age 2), Life in Beleriand (Fun with Fëanorians)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 965
Notes: I'm quite certain this will turn into a multi-chapter. I've been thinking about the twins' Choices and how they were made for a while.
“You did what?”
Gil-galad’s tone was somewhere between ‘angry’ and ‘appalled’.
Elros suppressed a hard swallow. Maybe Elrond wasn’t the only one who wasn’t going to take this well. And with only a handful of his most trusted advisors present for this interview, Gil-galad wasn’t constrained by formality or a need to remain dignified in public.
He signed inwardly. He’d thought it would be better to break the news in private and let them all vent – get it out of their systems right away. Judging by the furious look Oropher was shooting him, it was possible that had been a miscalculation on his part. But consulting his brother hadn’t exactly been possible under the circumstances.
Elrond’s reaction did have the happy side effect of meaning that Olwë, Eärwen, and Celebrimbor were otherwise occupied, and Ingwion had trailed after them. So it was just Gil-galad, Oropher, Erestor, Gildor…actually, make that a serious miscalculation on his part. It being just them wasn’t actually any improvement.
“I decided to count among Men, like my grandfather.”
“Nienna grant me strength,” the High King muttered. “Did you think about this for more than two seconds?”
Elros hesitated. The honest answer was ‘no’. He’d gone with his gut. Most of the ‘reasoning’ had been after the fact. But if he had to do it all again, the only thing he would do differently is ask for time to consult Elrond before answering.
Trying to have one of them in each camp worked rather well when it came to fighting a war or everyday life in Beleriand. It wasn’t going quite so well when it came to the Choice. He hadn’t remembered to factor in that in the difference in lifespans meant that ‘everyday life’ would go on a lot longer for Elrond than it would for him until he saw the look on his brother’s face.
“Yes, I did,” he said confidently. “I had my reasons.”
“The abuse suffered in your childhood, for one,” Oropher muttered.
Elros pinned him with a stern look of his own.
“For the last time, Lord Oropher, my childhood was a happy one, with the only traumatic incidents the fault of our recently defeated enemy, not the cousins who raised me. I don’t care to hear your twisted fantasies about what you think I must have suffered.”
He was actually thoroughly tired of the subject, which has come up at least once every few weeks since Maedhros sent them from Nogrod to Balar. The Sindar want to believe Elros and his brother had been kept in a state of deprivation and abuse. In retrospect, Elros was pretty sure they’d actually enjoyed as close to the kind of childhood Maedhros and Makalaurë had as their cousins could manage with the shadow of Morgoth, the Oath, and the Doom hanging over them. And somehow any perceived fault of his always became the fault of Maedhros Lackhand and Maglor the Cleaver…
“Young Man, you have no standing to lecture me, descendant of Thingol or not,” Oropher shot back. “I answer to my King, which it seems you no longer are.”
Oops. Add that to the tally of today’s miscalculations…and Elrond’s likely not in a mood to rein Oropher in.
The pinched look on Gil-galad’s face suggested that he wasn’t happy about the latest round of Sindarin Opinions About Fëanorions either. But it wasn’t possible for him to rein Oropher in, given that he was the Noldaran, not the Sindaran, and Oropher was his uncle besides.
“On second thought, all of you out,” Gil-galad announced tightly. “No, not you, Elros. You stay. We will speak later, Uncle.”
That at least cleared the rest of the audience and their disapproval.
Elros let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as the last of them left, closing the door of what passed for Gil-galad’s study behind them.
The evacuation of Beleriand had been mostly orderly, but arrangements in the elves’ new port were haphazard at best. Given a few more years, they’d no doubt have the beginnings of a city to do them proud – and a name to go with it, as opposed to ‘headquarters’ or occasionally ‘the town’.
He still didn’t see why Beleriand couldn’t have been saved. What was the point of the war if it killed or wrecked most of what they’d been fighting for in the first place?
Gil-galad cleared his throat to bring Elros’ wandering attention back to him.
“I take it this is why there’s a small flock of worried elders hovering around your brother?” his cousin asked dourly. “No, don’t answer. You should talk less and think more for the next few days. I’m not the only one who will have questions. And your answers to Celeborn and Oropher had better be an improvement.”
“Celeborn and Oropher?” Elros couldn’t resist asking. “Not King Arafinwë and Prince Ingwion?”
Gil-galad shrugged.
“You may be a concern to them as their young kinsman, but that’s all. They’re kings of elves, and as Oropher none too tactfully pointed out, you’re a Man now. What’s more, unless it’s been a day for big decisions neither of you saw fit to mention, Celeborn and Oropher will be the ones dealing with the fallout from this, not Great-grandfather and Cousin Ingwion.”
Elros winced.
“Elrond’s staying here. At least, I think he is.”
“You think?” Gil-galad asked sharply, his eyebrows rising.
“He’s… not exactly in a talking mood right now. And I don’t know what else the Valar told him.”
Gil-galad’s face suggested Elros was causing him serious pain, but for a long moment he said nothing, just closing his eyes. When he finally opened them, he said in an overly even, measured tone, “I think you had better tell me what went on this afternoon. From the beginning.”
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Date: 2019-03-07 03:44 am (UTC)