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Little Boy Lost and Crying by Urloth

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Story notes:

this jumps around in terms of style and tone a bit given there's a three year gap between writing ch 1/2 and then ch 3.

AU from all of my other writing but pulling quite a bit for characterisation later on.

Chapter notes:

To quote a bit more of the conversation that inspired this:

ha-leths:

i feel like the house of finwe just found a confused, crying, and lost little boy in the woods one day and decided to keep him and call him gil-galad

and thats why his parentage is so confusing because everyone claimed he was theirs 

peredhel:

that kind of makes it sound like he was Elured or Elurin haha

napoldeinlove:

haha yeah that’s kind of NO NO THAT’S NOT OKAY THAT’S NOT OKAY

nolikereally:

GET.

OUT.

Maedhros lied. Maedhros did find them. Both of them, for all the good it did Eluréd with his fragile neck broken where he’d fallen down a ravine trying to run from the Noldor who had been seeking him; trying to draw them away from where he had hidden tiny Elurín. 

They buried the child next to his parents, and then Maedhros was left to ponder the still crying creature he now had in his care. There were mental wounds too deep for their own healers to care for, he knew this personally, and he doubted any child could survive the life that loomed before them both.

"We will send him to Balar," he decided at last, the child on his hip since placing Elurín down usually resulted in screaming and crying fits, and sometimes actual convulsions from the terror that chased after the child. He was so young, Maedhros thought without any regret for this young meant the memories would fade easily, even become totally erased in time. Yes the child was young; so young he was practically a babe.

There was a flicker of yearning in him, just for a moment. He rembered holding Tyelperinquar many times, cradling that small body and pondering his own future sons whom had never eventuated. He turned his mind away from such useless and ancient sensory recollection, and turned his mind towards the pressing issue.

It felt like acid though, returning to the thindar one of the family that had stolen and continued to deny them their birthright.

Ah but…

It galled Cirdan to receive a messenger from the Noldor at such a time as this. But the child clinging to the messenger’s chest, in a deep, Power induced sleep stilled his tongue and made him curious for the babe was wrapped in clothing speaking of wealth, and had a regal cast to his or her young features already. And then there was a glimmer of hope when he saw a idle strand of silver hair sticking out beneath the magenta swaddlings.

"I have been charged with delivering this child to you," the messenger bowed deeply, "he is Gil-Galad in your language, or Erenion, the Scion of Kings. He is the only one left."

The hope died.

"Technically we told him who the child was," Maedhros said when the messenger returned successful.

"Save the name," Maglor reminded him.

"I merely thought it a terrible burden for a child to grow up named literally as the reminder of a once mighty king who ultimately became nothing more then a thief and a failure," Maedhros said, and turned away.