Drabbles: Elves through the Ages

A Safe Haven

“His fleet got ditched. Completely, I tell you!” The little elfling was almost jumping up and down in his bed, filled with sheer unlimited enthusiasm.

The twins had spent the day playing with small wooden boats in the shallow waters at the banks of the Bruinen, getting themselves and their mother completely soaked in the process.

Elladan lay facing the wall. It had been his fleet that had suffered a defeat of epic proportions. It was a miracle that his glare did not bore a hole into stones and mortar.

“Aren’t you at all sleepy, Elrohir?” Elrond’s voice was patient.

“No, not at all,” was the prompt answer of the youngster.

His father only shook his head. “Lie down and be quiet, or there won’t be any tale tonight!”

Elrond turned to his other son, who was still sulking in silence. “What do you want to hear about tonight, Elladan?”

Reluctantly Elladan turned around. There were tales he wanted to hear and tales his father would tell. But there was one story he had always wanted to hear, and which had always been denied.

“I would like to hear about our grandfather and how he reached the haven of Alqualondë,” he suggested hesitatingly.

His father sighed. But when Elladan was already trying to come up with another idea, Elrond sat down next to the elder twin and laid his hand comfortingly upon the small, bony shoulder of his son.

“Very well. But only if Elrohir lies down this instant and promises to listen quietly.” A raised eyebrow and the prospect of a story told never before were enough to calm down even this recalcitrant elfling.

“Once upon a time, there was a mariner called Eärendil,” Elrond began and hoped that his sons would not see the tears in his eyes.