Elrond looked up from fingers drawing melodies out of his harp like ripples on a stream. Birdsong trills were skylarking from the flute into which his brother breathed life.
Their gazes met. Then Elros glanced over to where another leant against a tree, his rich voice rolling out over the forest, telling of other woods he might wander no more. With unspoken signal, the brethren stilled their music.
After a moment Maglor, too, faltered. He turned, frowning. “Why--?”
Elros smiled. “We would rather hear you without the distraction of trying not to mar your performance with our own fumblings.”
Great was the sorrow of Eärendil and Elwing for the ruin of the havens of Sirion, and the captivity of their sons, and they feared that they would be slain; but it was not so. For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought….
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.