"Your hand worries me," Elrond remarked as he applied the ointment he had just mixed.

"And you should not have told me what you were stirring up. Wool Wax, yuck!", Maglor tried to evade.

"Don't change the subject!" Elrond rebuked him. "The injury is old and never healed properly and now clearly restricts the use of your hand. Perhaps I can at least soothe it a little."

"Old, yes... Suddenly, Maglor looked thoughtfully at his adopted son.

Elrond looked up from his work. "What's on your mind?"

"Do you know where the injury came from?" Maglor asked reluctantly.

For a while, Elrond looked at the hand thoughtfully. It looked burned, but no burn has lasted for thousands of years without healing. And the injury seemed strange to Elrond in other ways as well.

"The Silmaril," he said.

"Yes. I threw it into the sea."

"Does it hurt?"

"When I play the harp, yes. Otherwise, I'm used to it."

Elrond tried to suppress his regret and compassion and radiate optimism. "We'll fix that, you'll see."

How awful it must have been for uncle Maglor, of all people, his right hand of all things! Maglor lived for music, being limited just by it must be cruel for him. Elrond was determined to do everything in his power to ease the suffering. At the same time, he was aware that he might not succeed. The injury was not natural, but rather a punishment for a monstrous theft - and so much more. For uncle Maglor and uncle Maedhros had laid claim to something that no longer belonged to them, perhaps never had belonged to them.

Suddenly a desperate call echoed through the estate. "Please, not the rolling pin! ...Ow!" Children's tears followed.

Elrond sighed. "Now the children are awake again. And they had only just fallen asleep..."

"You've woken up the children!" Celebrían was immediately heard shouting angrily from the kitchen.

Maglor could not hold on to himself and had to laugh. "My brother must be suffering a lot from your wife's knock," he commented jokingly.

Hurried steps could be heard in the corridor to the children's room. "I'll look after them," announced Ceomon.

Now that he and Celebrían were running an estate in Aman near Tirion, his foster-fathers had moved in with them without further ado, and Gil-galad was only formally called a guest of the house, Elrond had thought he was now at peace. He had, however, underestimated the explosive mixture of Celebrían, their little twin children Elellinde and Anarhin, and Maedhros' tendency to suck up to them with sweets.

"I guess I'll have to save Maitimo from your wife," commented Maglor with a grin.

"It's hard to believe that she was almost afraid of him at first," Elrond recalled with a smile.

"Really? He is tame, especially compared to Carnistir," Maglor wondered.

"She knows him from stories from my childhood - Ceomon made sure she knew the embarrassing ones, too," Elrond said. "But then to face him as Artanis' daughter seemed to be something different."

Maglor raised one eyebrow. "She doesn't think the oath still binds us as it did then, does she? Our claim is extinguished. Besides, you said Maitimo didn't get here long before I did, and I only recently found my way here myself, for whatever reason. In return, she was quick to spank him with a rolling pin."

"As you said: deep down, uncle Maitimo is tame as a lamb."

They both knew the Maedhros could hardly be called tame. But he lived for his family and had perceived Celebrían as part of them from the beginning. She had experienced this through many small and unobtrusive attentions, and so it was easy for her to shed her shyness towards him.

At that moment Ceomon came into the room with two crying infants on his arm. He seemed desperate.

"Not even Undómiel was so exhausting at that age - and she was really a catastrophe, Lord Elerondo," he lamented.

Maglor beamed, as always when he saw his grandchildren. He stood up and took the children from Ceomon. He swayed them gently and hummed a soft melody. Soon the twins stopped crying, Anarhin even giggled.

Ceomon shook his head. "Magic," he commented.

Maglor rubbed his nose against those of the children, something he liked to do and was enjoyed by them in return.

"Uncle, Tyelpetari will surely look after them right away," Elrond reminded him. "If she sees you playing with them instead of sending them back to sleep, you'll feel the rolling pin, too."

Maglor seemed disappointed. "But they're so lovely!" he demanded.

"They are not even half a year old, you won't miss much of them if they sleep for a few hours," Elrond objected, who would also prefer his children to sleep again.

"Atto," muttered Elellinde and stretched out his little hand at him. Elrond took his son away from Maglor, who snuggled up to his chest and played with his hair.

"Well, don't chew on it!" Elrond admonished him and carefully took the strand of hair from Elellinde. Then he turned to Maglor again: "Look at it this way, uncle: they have just reached the age where they begin to speak. You might as well give them lullabies and give them their first musical education."

Maglor looked at Anarhin, who wanted to encourage him to continue singing with the few Quenya words she already knew.

"See," Elrond said. "The children like that, too."

Maglor sighed. "All right."

They took the children back to their room and put them in the crib. Then Maglor sang one of the countless lullabies he had always sung to Elrond and Elros when they were children and could not fall asleep. Elrond sat next to him and rubbed the bellies of his children, because they liked that very much. He noticed that his eyes had almost closed as well. Maglor might not be able to play the harp with absolute mastery at the moment because of his hand injury, but his voice had lost none of its magic in all these years.

When the children finally went back to sleep (which was an extraordinary feat with these two bundles of energy) and they stepped outside the door, Celebrían was already waiting for them.

"Are they asleep?", she wanted to know. When Maglor confirmed this, she seemed relieved. "At least someone who's useful. Even Elerondo can't always sing them to sleep."

"Oh, I suppose that's a compliment?", said Maglor. "But tell me, Tyelpetari, did you leave my brother in one piece? I'd hate to have to explain to Findecáno how Maitimo is not quite complete this time."

"I caught him trying to slip candy to the kids again," she snorted.

Elrond had to smile. "Oh, indo-ninya, he always does that when he likes someone. Don't take it so badly on him."

"But I don't want Maitimo to feed them fat and round," countered Celebrían.

"That's what he did to my little ones, and look, they've turned out well too," Maglor threw in and pinched his foster son's cheek demonstratively.

Elrond ducked away. "Stop that," he growled gruffly.

Maglor laughed and provocatively fuzzed his hair once more. Then he went to check on his brother and left them behind. They went back into the room where Elrond had previously treated Maglor's wound. With a sigh, Celebrían let himself fall into the armchair.

"No one told me your foster-fathers were so difficult," she said, "It was always said that you and your brother were such impossible children, and that ours are so difficult."

Elrond smiled and sat down beside her on the back of the chair. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on her golden hair. " They really mean well, my love," he reaffirmed. "And I think that when you are a grandfather, you are allowed to be a little more lax. Or what do you think?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Like you, I never had a grandfather when I was a child." But she seemed more relaxed and snuggled up to him. "Actually, it's nice the way it is. I think I even like them."

"You don't just think, you don't want to admit it." Elrond laughed softly.

She too was infected by his good mood. "Well, Makalaure is really useful as the only one who can reliably put the twins to sleep."

"And uncle Maitimo feeds them in case it gets a little harder one day," joked Elrond.

"That does not exist in Tirion!" protested Celebrían. "You see, that's where it starts."

"But when he baked you the cupcakes, you didn't refuse," he reminded her.

That put her in a dilemma. "Point taken," she admitted reluctantly.

For a while they sat there in silence, arm in arm, just enjoying the closeness of the person they loved.

"Maybe we should take a vacation," Elrond suggested. "You seem a little tense and overworked sometimes, that worries me. Perhaps we should hire a few more servants than just a kitchen help and your maid; Ceomon and Rethtulu also need rest for once."

"I actually like it like this," she said. "Yes, sometimes I think back that in Imladris some things were more comfortable. But now we're here, and I don't feel I need all that from back then."

"At least let me look for someone to help us on the orchard and in the mostery," he asked.

"For you and your peace of mind." She smiled. "But the idea of a holiday doesn't sound bad. Do you have any ideas? Somehow it seems to me like everything here is a holiday."

"Hmm, I don't know. We can ask uncle Maitimo and uncle Makalaure," he suggested. "I'm sure they know what would be a good vacation spot. You see, that's what they're good for!"

Now she had to laugh. "Yes, yes, all right!" she replied laughing.

Now he kissed her on the mouth. "I love you," he whispered, "and I'm so very grateful that you're feeling better."

"Valinor cures all ills," she said. "How is Makalaure? He looked bad when they brought him to you."

"Almost back to his old self," Elrond said. "Better, even, considering his moods. That, too, seems relieved. Only his hand still troubles me. The Silmaril, you know... I don't think that this wound will ever be taken away from him. I don't even know why he was allowed to find a way here." He paused for a moment. "Maybe I shouldn't worry about it and just be glad to have him back." Him, the only father he had ever known.

"I think so too," Celebrían said, smiling warmly at him. "Come on, let's go ask them where's a good place to spend the holidays."

They found them in the kitchen. Apparently the rolling pin hadn't made enough of an impression on Maedhros to make him give up his current baking project. In a somewhat unconventional gesture he had clamped a pot under his right arm and stirred vigorously with his left.

"Uncle Maitimo, you have two hands again," Elrond almost reflexively reminded him as they entered the kitchen.

Maedhros might have got his hand back with his new body, but it was his hand that Fingon had once cut off in his distress. But apparently the injury had left such deep wounds in his fea that he sometimes seemed to forget that he no longer had a handicap.

Even Maglor seemed to notice it only now. Apparently, he had also gotten so used to his brother's arm stump that he hadn't even thought to remind his brother of his new hand.

"You don't need to mother me," Maedhros warned sternly.

"It doesn't work any more, uncle," Elrond calmly reminded him. "I am grown up now."

"Oh, he does that with everyone he chooses to be his patient, which could potentially be anyone," Celebrían threw in.

Meanwhile, they had sat down at the kitchen table with Maglor.

"Are you trying to take the dough away from me again," Maedhros asked Celebrían, but with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"No, we've decided that it's time for a holiday," she said. "Elerondo thinks you know a good place for a holiday."

Maedhros and Maglor looked at each other for a moment.

"Well, basically anywhere. Although the country has changed a lot since we left it," said Maglor. "Eru Ilúvatar piled up mountains that weren't there when we turned our backs on Aman - I think it was as a result of the Akallabêth, as they said."

"The lights are not what they once were," said Maedhros as his gaze drifted into the far distance of his youth. "Now Arien and Tilion alternate and their barks are but pale lights of Laurelin and Telperion. Now there are shadows in Aman."

"Visit the two trees", Maglor suggested.

"Don't suggest such a thing, it should be a nice holiday", Maedhros said gruffly. "I'm sure the sight of them is no longer a nice one."

"But I like the suggestion," Celebrían objected. "We will certainly never again experience Aman as we did in his spring, but maybe we can have an echo of that. They weren't knocked down after they were defiled, were they?"

Maglor nodded. "They still stand as a monument to what once was. On second thought, I'd like to see them again."

"Well, then someone must look after the house," said Maedhros, who showed no signs of pursuing that holiday destination as well.

"I would have been delighted if you would come with me," Elrond said to him.

But Maedhros remained adamant. "The little songbird here is the poet. He can put the old days into words better than I can. Go with him."

The two brothers exchanged glances that seemed to say something only they both knew and did not want to share. Then they nodded at each other. Elrond saw that he would not be able to change Maedhros' mind, and he submitted. Perhaps during the journey he would find out from Maglor what Maedhros' reasons were.

At least the holiday was thus decided at short notice, and they set about planning the trip. Since they wanted to take the twins with them, Ceomon also agreed to accompany them, while Rethtulu stayed at home with Maedhros and guarded the house.

Although he still felt it a pity not to be able to spend his first vacation in Aman together with Maedhros, Elrond was looking forward to the trip. He had never travelled too far before, and had mostly stayed near Tirion and the coast, as he had not been driven to undertake longer journeys before. Celebrían had already told him that the Blessed Realm brought one to rest, so restlessness was a rare sight here, and so it was. But sooner or later he had wanted to look beyond the horizon.

Elellinde and Anarhin were almost too young to remember much of their holidays, but Celebrían still wanted them with her. This would slow down their journey considerably, but nobody bothered. They literally had all the time in the world.

Maglor, who seemed to be in a good mood, was also in a chatting mood. Elrond appreciated this very much, for he remembered from his childhood that these were rare moments with his foster-fathers. But the few months in Aman had worked wonders for Maglor. Still not all traces of his long suffering since the First Age had been erased, and this would remain so for a long time to come, but already now he was almost back to the blooming life.

And so he talked and talked and talked and talked, sometimes even in bound language, songs that he had surely just thought up. Elrond almost had the feeling that his uncle knew a story for every blade of grass in the Blessed Land - most of them certainly hopeless exaggerations of the mischief of his younger brothers. Celebrían was blown away and could not get enough of Maglor's songs, no matter how often he claimed that much of it was nonsense and without any artistry.

"At least now I know where your false modesty comes from," Celebrían said to Elrond at one point. "You got that from Makalaure."

"I've said it over and over again all these years! I am innocent!" exclaimed Elrond. "But you never wanted to believe me."

"I never brought you up to false modesty," said Maglor in indignation. "It must have been Maitimo. It would never have occurred to me to spoil you like that."

"Then who did spoil you?" Celebrían boldly asked him.

"No one, because I have no false modesty," Maglor emphasized with a stern tone of conviction.

Celebrían was clearly not convinced.

It was evening, and they were sitting around a small campfire, if only for the sake of cosiness, for it was a starry, balmy summer night. Ceomon stroked the heads of the sleeping children so that they would continue to sleep. Celebrían had bedded her head in Elrond's lap, and he combed and braided her golden hair, something he loved to do, and something he was just as persistent about. Maglor watched them smiling.

"Is something the matter? " Elrond asked him.

"Oh, nothing." Maglor shook his head. Then suddenly, a shadow appeared on his face. "I have missed well over six thousand years of your life, Elerondo, and I regret it very much. I was privileged to meet Anarhin and Elellinde. But I only know your other children from stories, and that's how it will always be. And all the other things in your life I was not allowed to have a share in. How I would have loved to see how my little ones made it far below Eldar and Atani! Atani..." He suddenly broke off and seemed to struggle with mental anguish when he realized again what this meant. He would never be able to see Elros again, he was lost to them all forever.

"It's as if the most important part of my life was taken away from me," Maglor finally said. "And I'm sorry for that, because I had just disappeared then because I wanted to lose myself."

"Don't talk about it, uncle," Elrond hurriedly interjected, in which painful memories, long buried, also reappeared. Some wounds were too deep for Aman to heal. Only the burden of memory was reduced.

For quite a while they remained silent and watched the fire burn down. Eventually, Maglor tuned in a part of the Noldolante, the one who sang of the former splendor and glory of the Noldor. But eventually, he fell silent again.A few days later they reached the destination of their journey. Maglor had not said what to expect all this time, even though he had sung songs about the beauty of the lights of the Two Trees. Yet Elrond had never had a real idea of Laurelin and Telperion. Sure, he knew images, but none of them had prepared him for reality, as he now realized.

Telperion and Laurelin were long dead. Only the light of the silmarilli could have saved them from the defilement of Ungoliant, but Feanor had not been willing to destroy his greatest work, and so not even the Lady Yavanna had been able to preserve them. But they had not been hewn down but left standing as a reminder of all that had once been beautiful and pure in the land of the gods. And despite everything, they were still an imposing, intimidating sight.

The trees were huge, and Elrond was not averse to claiming that they were as tall as a mountain. And while he could hardly contain his amazement, it occurred to him that this was probably the only reasonable explanation. How else could they have been able to give light to an entire country?

"Even though they had shone all over Aman, one had never felt dazzled even from that close up," Maglor softly threw in from the side so as not to disturb Elrond and Celebrian's amazement too much. "On the contrary, one felt as safe as only in the arms of a mother."

He sang another song about the Light of the Two Trees - he seemed to have an infinite supply of it, and the very fact that Maglor had once been so inspired by the light gave Elrond an idea of the incredible effect the light must have had. Indeed, even the Light of Isil and Anar was but a faint glimmer of its origin.

Suddenly he fell silent. "I will now leave you for a little while," he said. "Wait for me here."

"But I would like to share this moment with you", Elrond asked him sadly, but Maglor just shook his head and disappeared. Ceomon followed him in silence, leaving the children with Elrond and Celebrían.

"Strange," muttered Celebrían as they had left.

"I think there are things in their past they don't want to talk about with anyone but their brothers," Elrond surmised. He didn't know himself if that hurt him, that there were things that Maglor didn't want to share with him either - maybe not yet.

At that moment, they noticed an Elven woman approaching them. Elrond immediately noticed her brown hair, through which the copper tone shimmered. He hesitated. There were only a few elves with this peculiar hair color.

She herself seemed to hesitate, but finally she approached them. Her gaze wandered up to the trees.

"I come here often," she began the conversation, "and think of what was and will never be again. It is a place where the light is far away now and where so many stories have come to rest. Once a heaven of hopes, now an archive of lost dreams..."

Elrond noticed in her language the dialect of the Noldor, who had never left Aman. He had noticed the difference early on when he arrived here. More carried, heavier, perhaps more thoughtful. So spoke those who had stayed with King Finarfin and had not joined the rebellion of Feanor. The stranger had to be one of them.

"I am Elerondo and this is my wife Tyelpetari," Elrond introduced them.

"I know." The stranger smiled. "After all, King Arafinwe is your grandfather, mistress. I have been expecting you. But I forget my manners. They call me Nerdanel."

For a moment, Elrond was too perplexed to speak. Irritated, he looked in the direction Maglor had gone, then back at the Noldo before him. He had not expected this.

She must have noticed his gaze, but did not respond. Instead, she fetched something from a gown pocket. "I brought something, a small gift. Had I known about the children, I would have brought something for them, too." She smiled apologetically and handed Elrond a small marble statue. "I hope I've done him justice."

"Thank you," Elrond just brought it out. Then he looked at the masterfully crafted figure in his hands, and again he was struck speechless. Celebrían also escaped a small gasp.

"That looks like ... no, not like me, like Elros," Elrond breathed with emotion, falling back for a moment into the Sindarin he hardly used here any more. He would never forget the face of his beloved brother, not until the end of time!

Nerdanel seemed to have to think about what he had said for a moment, but then she nodded, "I've always listened for stories from the Hither Shores, despite everything - after all that had happened. You don't forget your own children, no matter what happens. Thoughts wander far across the sea, hoping that one day the innermost wishes will find a way back," she said, "Of course I listened to what happened to my songbird, and so also heard about you and finally about Númenóre and Tar-Minyatur. I don't know what you must have felt, because I never experienced mortality, but consider it a small kindness on my part. After all, we are related."

"Well..." Elrond began, not knowing what to say. "I have no words. I suppose a simple 'thank you' doesn't quite put it into words. At least it's a very good likeness. How did you manage that?"

"I got a little help from the Lady Vaire and inherited a bit of talent from my father Mahtan, as you may know," Nerdanel remarked, as if it was nothing special. "But please, if it is all right with you: I would like you to think of me as your grandmother. I would be happy to have grandchildren - and great grandchildren, I see."

Suddenly Elrond felt his heart warm and he smiled. "Well, I certainly wouldn't have any problem with that. I had always thought of uncle Makalaure as family."

Suddenly, the ice had been broken between them. "You call him uncle?" Nerdanel wondered, suddenly much more relaxed and easygoing, now that it was settled.

"He forbade us, my brother and I, to call him 'father'," Elrond explained, "because he felt that Ardamíre had and has the only claim to fatherhood over us. So we simply used 'uncle' synonymously with 'father'."

Now Nerdanel had to laugh. It was an honest, bell-like laugh. A laugh that looked like there was a happiness in it that hadn't been there for a long, long time.

"I would have loved to see my songbird live through the joys and sorrows of fatherhood," she commented. "Having children of your own is different from having little brothers with whom you would rather fool around than keep them from doing what you should be doing."

"Well, he was here a moment ago because he came on this journey with us," Elrond said. "I don't know why he left..."

The cheerfulness was wiped away. "A mother never forgets," she said, "but some things go deeper than even a mother's love, and I am not yet ready to see past it. Perhaps never. I know that Feanáro's eldest sons are back in these lands. Maybe because of you, Elerondo. But our moment has not yet arrived. And maybe for us the archive is closed, even the already lost dreams lost, and we are separated forever. They are not ready for it either, I can feel it."

Elrond noticed how Celebrían squeezed his hand. He found it difficult to understand what Nerdanel might feel when she thought of her two eldest sons. In fact, he found it difficult to even imagine such a thing. His foster-fathers had never talked much about their parents, even less about their mother than their father. Maybe that was exactly the reason: the unbridgeable gap that the oath had created between them. It seemed to him almost unimaginable.

"The archive is closed and lost," Nerdanel repeated quietly, looking at the two trees. "But perhaps today I have found my key."

---

The libido of the elves diminishes with the years of their partnership and gives way to a deep attachment, as Tolkien put it. But since literature is, among other things, a free representation that serves the purpose of the matter, please forgive me this litte AU. The fact that Maglor is back in Aman is another thing: The Silmarillion explicitly and unmistakably states that he was never seen under Eldar again.

Anarhin – child of the sun, Qu.

Arafinwe – Noble Finwe, Finarfin, Qu.

Aranion – Scion of Kings, Ereinion Gil-galad, Qu.

Ardamíre – Jewel of the World, Earendil, Qu.

Artanis – Noble woman, Galadriel, Qu.

Atani – Second People, men, Qu.

Atto – father, familiar form of atar, Qu.

Elellinde – Star song, Qu.

Elerondo – star-dome, Elrond, Qu.

indo-ninya – my heart, Qu.

fea – ghost, soul, Qu.

Findecáno – hair-commander, Fingon, Qu.

Númenóre – Númenor, Westernesse, Qu.

Tar-Minyatur – High First-Lord, Elros' royal name, Qu.

Tyelpetari – silver queen, Celebrían, Qu.

Undómiel – evening star, Arwen, Qu.