Summary: My variation on the theme of Elrond and Gil-galad's relationship. This chapter describes their first real meeting.
I did not immediately take in the Peredhil after they were found at the cave. It was partially my fault. I felt guilty about their capture: because I had thought their father would return, I had not sent an army before it was requested. By then, it was too late to save Elwing or her sons. Partially, it was because I was a young king, and many encouraged me to keep them in the hands of others so I could focus on my duties. Partially, Cirdan was a friend of their father, and didn't mind looking after them. And partially, they scared and fascinated me. I had no idea what to expect from the Peredhil. Were they more like Men or Elves? Which Gift did they have? Are they under my rule as High King of the Elves? Would they grow more quickly in body, as is the manner of Men, or in the mind, as with the Eldar? They lived with the sons of Feanor for a time. And Elrond, I was told, had suffered lashes from Maethros. What did they learn from the Sons of Feanor? Were they dangerous? Between Men's lust for power and Feanor's lust for the Silmaril's, what would become them? But even more than that, they were of the line of Luthien, perhaps her sole descendants. They had Maiar blood. The thought fascinated and terrified me. Maiar and human blood in one body, eternally in battle.
Perhaps it was well, then, that fate, or the Powers, guided one of the twins before me as a bound prisoner. Elrond, I was told. "Leave him, guards. Come closer, child."
Elrond noticeably trembled as he stood before me, but his chin was raised defiantly, and he did not make the proper acquiescence--I knew by his eyes that it was not simply an error of ignorance. "Bow to me. Or you will be returned to your cell and I will not hear your case."
This did little to stop Elrond's trembling, but at least he knew where he stood. I could see his mind working: he would have to submit, there was no other choice. He bowed, deeply, perfectly.
"Thank you. I will not tolerate such defiance in my prisoners. It is uncalled for. You have been treated well, cousin. Now speak, child, I will hear your case. What is your crime?"
My words had there desired effect as a wave of guilt swept over Elrond. He sighed before he began. "I have stolen a horse and run away."
"Why did you do this, child?"
"I wanted to be alone. I wanted to swim at the Silvermere. I wanted to spend the night alone with the stars. I wanted to think about things," came his answer. The child had indeed thought about his actions some then. His answers were insightful. And grievous. They struck my heart. I realized how lonely the Peredhil were. Or, rather how lonely this Peredhel called Elrond was, whom Cirdan said was wont to brood. And I felt ashamed for not spending more time with them. We were indeed cousins, and I had responsibility to them as their kin, king or not. Ai Cirdan! He was often too gentle toward me. Too slow to correct my wrongs.
My mind turned back to Elrond, quivering in the wake of his own catharsis. Whatever my own part in this development, his actions could not go unpunished. The Silvermere was five leagues away, and horse-theft was grevious. I would punish us both, then. I spoke sternly in Quenya: "Elerondo Earendilion, úcarilya nar lumnar, ananta quentalelya, ar i raxë i elyë elertië colla, caras milya indonya. Sië, hlara le námanya. Antavalyë le mandonyanna an atta loar, yassen maruvalyë i ostossë ar nauvalyë sé canwanya. E, maquetuvalyë ne apsenes le, i úcarielyes apa; ar maquetuvalyë toronelya ar Hér Círdan, i urúcientë len; ar yando hyama le Ilúvataren, i onties le. Lertan, e, ahya námanya, mai merin. Sië namin, Finwë Artanaro."[1] I paused. When I spoke again, it was in Sindarin again, "What say you, Elrond?"
"You are merciful, Aran Meletyalda." Elrond's relief was genuine and visible. He had expected to be kept in prison, separated from the music of Arda and with only a small window out of which to see the stars.
"Come here then, and I will remove your bonds." Elrond closed the distance cautiously and eagerly. Anxious not to elicit his new master's ire, he knelt before me.
I smiled and walked around Elrond to gently undo them. "You will begin by accompanying me to the kitchen. It is lunchtime."
Notes:
[1] Gil-galad's father was Orodreth, son of Angrod, for this story. Artanaro is simply the Quenya (father?) name of Gil-galad. It seems to mean something like "Exalted Flame" or "Lofty Fire." I use Finwë ceremonially here. I simply have expanded an idea that I came across in a Michael Martinez article, "It's All in the Family: the Finweans." I quote:
"Curiously, the Shibboleth says that Finrod himself created the name "Finwe Arafinwe", or "Finarfin", after the death of Fingolfin...Although this statement would seem to contradict The Silmarillion (which explicitly mentions the kings of the Noldor prior to Fingolfin's death), Tolkien's intentions are not clear. Still, the use of Finwe's name as a prefix became a royal prerogative. At some point, Finwe's name may have become synonymous with the word title of "king", and it would be appropriate to speak of the ruler of the Noldor as The Finwe. After the First Age, Gil-galad would have been the Finwe in Middle-earth."
It is a stretch, and I realize that many of you may not like it. I try to keep an open mind, so if you have substantive opposition, I'll consider changing it.
[2] Your Majesty the King
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