Note:
This story follows the HOME XII in making Gil-galad the son of Orodreth
and grandson of Angrod.
~ ~ ~
Ereinion was in the workshop putting the edges
onto sword blades. Celebrimbor stood
watching him for a while, postponing the moment of speech. The young Elf’s concentration was so fierce
he had not noticed his cousin’s approach, and his mouth was holding the hard,
bitter line that had been characteristic since they reached Balar. Ereinion was still a little short of his full growth, but
his eyes had lost their youth.
“Ereinion.”
Ereinion looked up unwillingly, a trace of
sullenness in his face. It was evident
he expected nothing good.
“Ereinion, your sister is dead.”
Already
guarded the young face became completely shuttered. But Ereinion could
not hide the reaction in his eyes.
“How do
you know?” he said at last.
“Two of
the scouts Cirdan sent out have talked to some of the
men of Brethil.
They attacked the orcs who were herding away captives of Nargothrond
hoping to free them, but the orcs slew all their captives straightaway. Finduilas lived
just long enough to tell the men her name before she died.”
Ereinion was silent for a long time. At last he said. “My father’s mother?”
“There
is no word.” Celebrimbor wished he could
give good news, but he could not raise false hopes. “If she had escaped I believe we would have
heard.” He doubted in any case Edhellos would have tried to escape without Finduilas.
Ereinion did not ask after his parents. Meril had come of
the North Sindar, whose women rode to battle more often that those of the
Noldor. She had been beside Orodreth in
the front line.
“Why did
you bring me here?” Ereinion
asked.
“What
good would be served by your dying in Nargothrond?” Celebrimbor said bluntly. “Alive you may be a leader of our people one
day.”
“One
day! Morgoth presses ever closer and you
talk of a distant future! And how much
is there to lead, even if anyone was willing to follow me?”
“Far
less than there was.” Celebrimbor could
not give much hope. “But they may need
someone to look to, one day.”
“Someone
to fall in the front of battle, you mean,” Ereinion
said bitterly.
“There
are worse fates, although I would not wish that one on you. But you will stand better against the
darkness when you have your full growth.”
“You say
I am too young. As my
father said before the battle.”
“He was
right.” What could be said to help one
who had lost so much, so swiftly? “You
should believe you are alive for a reason, Ereinion.”
“I
cannot see it. How much time do you
suppose we have here?”
“I do
not know,” Celebrimbor admitted. Ereinion turned back to the swords he had been sharpening,
and took up the work again.