“For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought; but Maglor’s heart was sick and weary with the burden of the dreadful oath.”(The Silmarillion, “Of Eärendil and the War of Wrath”)
Watercolour and gouache on Canson Montval cold-pressed paper, A3 size.
Elros Tar-Minyatur was the first King of Númenor and the founder of the House of Elros, of whom all Kings of Númenor, Arnor and Gondor are descended, including Ar-Pharazôn, Isildur and Aragorn II Elessar.
Elrond and Elros have maia blood in them, they can do…odd things. They’ve made
objects move and levitate for starters, and can even move full grown elves (like
Maglor and Maedhros). It gets worse when they get angry. Sometimes people will
go flying, glass will shatter, and they tend to partially destroy whatever room
have power in their words, power to command and to physically hurt.
they’re little and particularly needy, they refuse to let the Feanorians leave
the room until they read them a bedtime story.
always did his best to correct it. Meanwhile, Maedhros was disturbed, as it
reminded him of his time in Angband when he was powerless.
they get older they learn how to control their abilities, and at the same time
learn that it’s not okay to use it on unwilling participants (even though Maglor
occasionally enjoys being suspended
upside down in the air).
change though. Elros and Maedhros get into a bad argument. Elros had talked
back to Maglor, and would not apologize. So Maedhors chastised him for it.
grows heated, and without thinking Elros uses his abilities on Maedhros. He throws
him across the room and holds him down until he thinks he’s gotten his point
across (the point being that Maedhros can’t tell him what to do and he can’t
control him. He tells him he’s not his father and that he has no right to command
him. Of course, Elros means none of it, but he’s just angry).
the biggest mistake he’s made, ever. When he realizes what he’s done, he
Maedhros gets free, he breaks into a fit
of hysterics. He tells Magor that they’ll kill them, that they’re just waiting
for them to sleep, and that the twins cannot be trusted. He brings up things
from Angband, he brings up his torture and how Melkor did the same thing to
him. And no matter how much Maglor tries
to calm him, it makes him even worse.
and Elros know that he speaks out of fear, but it doesn’t ease their guilt (least
of all not Elros’s).
the end Maedhros leaves.
gone for a long time. Elros looks for him every day, and never finds him. Not until
a month later.
not the same when Elros brings him back.
Elrond and Elros swear never to use their abilities again, even if their lives
depend on it. Eventually they lose most of it. Though if Elrond tries hard
enough, he can make his cup shake.
never uses his ability though, not even in leisure. He can’t forget the look of
terror and fear that he saw upon Maedhros’s face when he threw him across the
they break the brothers up when they fight.
-Elros thinks Maedhros is afraid of him, and he hates that feeling. He does
anything he can to mend their relationship.
It was in stories that Elros noticed it first, as he would later recall. Elves, in those early years of slow flight before the Drowning,
were cheerfully obstinate about making their already-existing tales ever
deeper and denser and longer and more textured without ever reaching an ending, some
pattern of the story’s course that wound down and curled
together so that nothing more was needed when silence fell.
Where teller and listener could let out their remaining breath, nod, get
up from the fire and turn to something else. The elves’ passions lay in that which had been said already, spinning their
characters a dizzying abundance of escapades in a thousand loops and
fronds and fractals from a dozen points of view and a generous helping of subplots, so that all the trials and
tribulations of a single night could fill a year of
storytelling. One story spilled into another, or, if it caught up to the
sheer edge of the present, faltered into a question.
The one time
Elros had interrupted such a tale, of fourteen different characters’
intersecting adventures in Dor-Lomin, with an eager but then what happened? his fellow listeners had frowned at him as if he had ruined the punchline.
Elrond did not frown with them, but neither had he become restless as
Elros had, at how the story reached backwards and sideways with nimble
fingertips, and down into subtle depths and up into intricate heights,
yet never came to a rest. Think how much must have happened in all those years! Is not everything that comes before the end the important part? his twin in face and form had said, and it was not wrong, exactly, but -
But a story, Elros thought, ought to have an ending that let one walk
away satisfied, so that it did not grow stale in the lingering.
Something formulaic at least, known to all who heard it. He
remembered, in memories blown in from his far-drifted childhood, that a
standard ending in Mannish stories was and he lived happily ever after until the end of his days.
It was not that they did not love each other, for surely they did. It was just that Elrond was so damnably irritating, especially when he kept ruining the drill and smacking Elros on the head.
“It was an accident!” he said, after the fifth time he’d made Elros’ ears ring.
Elros threw his sword, hard, and the quillon almost caught his brother in the eye. “So was that,” he snapped and stormed from the yard. Or tried to. With a yell Elrond landed on his back and bore him to the ground in a flurry of fists and nails and booted feet.
“You’re supposed to be learning to fight,” said Sainil, the Master of Arms, after she had kicked them apart and hauled them to their feet. “Until you learn to punch with your thumb outside your fist, Master Elrond, you can keep your brawling to your own time. I’m not explaining a broken thumb to Lord Maglor.”
Maglor still has his Silmaril. All the stories saying he threw it into the ocean are just that: stories. Stories that originate with the minstrel himself. He disappears for a while, mourns Maedhros, and then steels himself and goes out to prove the Valar wrong, because he is nothing if not vindictive. For a while he lives in Numenor, with Elros. 1/2
Celebrimbor comes to Numenor at Elros’ request and creates a case for the silmaril so Maglor can hold it, and so it’s light can be dimmed or shut out completely. After Elros dies, Maglor leaves and wanders Middle Earth. When Elrond builds Rivendell, he turns up one day with presents and songs and acts like he never left. Sometimes he only stays for a couple of days before disappearing again, sometimes he stays for a century. He uses the silmaril for mundane, everyday uses, as a torch or a lamp
I really like this! A lot! I totally think that Maglor deserves to keep
the Silmaril, or at least should. He dedicated the better part of his life to
trying to regaining it. I think the Valar expect him to become some evil
overlord with it in his possession. But he doesn’t do anything really, he just
keeps it for himself. He’ll do good in its name, that or nothing.
I think at first Elros would be quite upset that Maglor has the
Silmaril. IT reminds him of his biological mother and father taking the jewel
and never returning, but, at least
Maglor did, and he comes to help Elros with diplomacy and kingship (which Elros
is forever grateful for) . Eventually his anger dissolves, and he too becomes
slightly interested in the Silmaril.
He just wishes Maglor didn’t leave it rolling all over the place (it
almost fell in the sea twice).
So he request that Celebrimbor come to Numenor. Celebrimbor doesn’t know
what to expect when he arrives in Numenor, but it is certainly not Maglor. He
nearly tosses the Silmaril himself, and when that doesn’t work resorts to
yelling at Maglor, but comes back five minutes later to apologize.
So he creates a tiny box for it. Small enough so that Maglor can hook it
on his belt or on the harness of a horse, or anything. Elros puts the seal of
Numenor on it, so Maglor can belong somewhere (I imagine he sings the greatest
lament for Elros).
By the time he arrives in
Rivendel, Elrond wonders if his mind has waned since they last saw each other.
When he starts talking about how he has the Silmaril still, how he met Elros,
and Celebrimbor and a whole lot of crazy things, Elrond tries to direct him to
the healing wing.
Then he sees the case,
the seal of Numenor, and unclicks it open. And he believes Maglor.
But none of it account
for the thinness, malnourishment and hunger.
So he treats him while
Maglor tells him about his entire life.
Elrond doesn’t know how
to react to Maglor’s seemingly indifference for the Silmaril. Elrond has found
it on the floor, tied to a horse, on the wall, or in the kitchen.
He lends it to people as
well—to the maids, to the school teachers, to everyone. Elrond is slightly
touched. Though like Elros he is angry at first, it only reminds him of his biological
parents who abandoned him.
But Maglor came back, and
he shares the light with everyone.
(I can see it being used
by everyone in Rivendell. Glorfindel
puts it on his horse while he hunts orcs. Elladan wears it into battle to
terrify legions of Sauron’s servants. Erestor uses it so he can read books in
the library at night, and Lindir uses it to look for herbs and plants outside).
It even helped Maglor
find a child who fell in the river during night.
I love to think that Elrond
and Elros learned the importance of family values from the Feanorians. After
their abandonment and being neglected for a jewel, I
don’t think the twins had a clear image of family, or the importance of it;
their conceptions of family values were flawed.
But I think the brothers
fixed that. Because no matter what qualms the brothers had with one another, no
matter their urge to go look for the silmaril, not only did they stay together,
but they also willed themselves to care for the twins. Even if Maglor and
Maedhros had gone through hell and back tearing apart their family, they were
in little ways trying to fix and repair it by caring for the twins. And in that
way, they healed one another.
The brothers taught Elrond
and Elros that no matter what, family should come before all material things.
Families break, and they have their hardships, but at the end of the day,
family should be revered above all. And as the twins grow older, they hold
tightly to their families. Never forgetting a day when the Feanorians struggled
to go on, but no matter what they stuck together and provided for the twins.
Elrond more specifically carries their words to heart, and sees everyone he
holds dear as his family.
Yet, this makes it difficult
for Elrond to, in the end, let his loved ones go.
Yes yES! Bloodthirsty feanorian twins are wonderful. I can't imagine the chaos of having two sets of twins around. Two more people Elros has to figure out how to poison
“Come hunting with us, little chicks!” It was Amras that spoke - telling twins apart was no hardship for Elrond or Elros.
“We have so much to show you,” said his brother. They wore their hunting greens and bright, sharp smiles. “All the deep, secret places of the woods.”
“The cool, clear streams where fat trout swim and the deer go to drink.”
“Where hunters go to lie in wait.”
“Trees so vast that you can walk beneath them for hours and never see the sun.”
“Glades where the moss is deep as a feather bed, a sweet cushion for weary little bones.”
“Where the nightingales sing all day and night. They are so small, there is much sport to be had in hunting them.”
“We will show you how!”
“Come with us, come, come!”
“Why do you tremble,
Eluréd? What are you so afraid of?”
Not the woods. Not, now, Maglor with his sweet voice and conniving ways, who would have them forget the face of their mother if he could. Not ruthless Maedhros who, if he convinced himself he had to, would kill them without pause. There were monsters worse than they.
“We have a music lesson,” Elrond lied.
Elros took his hand and squeezed it hard. “Maglor would be so disappointed if we missed it.”
“He’s expecting us very soon.”
“We’re sorry,” they said as one.
“Ah well,” said Amras.
“There’ll be another time.” Amrod’s expression had not changed at all. He still smiled much too wide. Or, rather, displayed his teeth.