Mists of Beleriand

Disclaimer: I own nothing











Disclaimer: I own
nothing. It is merely borrowed from the great mind of Tolkien.

 

Title: Mists of Beleriand

Author: Silmarien

Rating: G

 

A/N: A short
vignette about Gil-Galad as a young elfling I
assume that Ereinion was still a very small child
when he was given over to the safekeeping of Círdan when Morgoth broke the Siege of Angband. This takes place a few years after he arrived at
the Havens.

 

-~~*~~-

Mists of Beleriand

-~~*~~-

 

The wet
sand beneath his small feet was oozing between his toes, much to his delight,
as he ran nimbly across the water’s edge. A large smile covered his small face,
lighting his features with the carefree pleasure that only the young were
capable of attaining. For Ereinion had managed to
escape Isáviel, the elven lady Círdan had appointed to
watch after the rambunctious elfling, with only half his hair done into braids
for the day.

The light patter of his feet against the beach followed after him for
only a short distance before it was drowned out by the pounding of the surf
breaking along the shore, as his brown hair was tossed about in the breeze,
becoming a tangled mess of braids and loose strands of hair. It was certain
that Isáviel would not be pleased with him, but such
thoughts did not cross the childish mind of the elfling as he flew over the
sand, darkened an earthy brown color by the salty water. 

He knew that even Círdan, with his keen eyes that seemed to miss nothing,
would not be able to find him in the thick veil of mist that now swirled on the
white banks along the beach, shielding his tiny form from his protector’s view.
There would be no lessons on the stronghold created at Formenos
or the finer intricacies of Quenya that morning. No,
this morning little Ereinion would simply be an
elfling, playing among the waves that broke on the shores of Beleriand, unconcerned about his responsibilities as the
possible future High King of the Firstborn.

He knew exactly where to go on such a rare occasion of freedom as well,
despite the small number of years that he had to his name. The rocky tide pools
lay ahead, shrouded in the mist, but Ereinion was
familiar with what direction to turn as his feet carried him towards his
favorite spot along the beach. There would be a wealth of treasures to discover
among the tide pools that day with the storm that had stirred the waters of the
sea over the last few days. Ereinion had been eager
to go explore the beach when he woke that morning, and was happy to discover
that the storm no longer raged overhead.

He had often gone there with Círdan, when the Shipwright could break free
from his duties and spend a few moments with him. Ereinion
loved nothing more than standing hand in hand with Círdan on top of the rocks
that were strewn across the end of the beach, listening to the blending of the
sea’s waves breaking on the shore combined with the mellow tones of Círdan’s rich voice. Círdan proved to be a wealth of
information for Ereinion’s childish fancy with boats
and sailing. The little elfling was already trying to coerce Círdan into promising him that if and when the time ever
came, he would take Ereinion out on one of the white
boats that lay gleaming in the sun in the harbor. Círdan had simply smiled down
at the elfling, telling him that if he behaved himself and the Valar granted
them fair winds in the future, then they would go sailing together.

A squeal of delight escaped Ereinion’s small
form as a wave came crashing onto the beach, the water swiftly pushing it’s way
up the sand and engulfing his feet, tickling his elfling toes as the salty
liquid rushed further up the shore before retreating again into the sea. He
picked up his pace, dashing towards the drier end of the shore as he came
closer to his intended destination.

The craggy rocks were already appearing from behind the fog, large blurs
of swirling shapes that Ereinion pretended were
heroes of old. If he squinted his eyes the right way, he could just make out
the form of mighty Tulkas atop his horse, charging
after the Dark Lord to wage battle against him for the protection of the
Firstborn. That was who Ereinion wanted to be! As he
raced towards the rocks, he swung an imaginary sword through the air,
pretending to cleave the minions of the Dark Lord in two.

It was only when the rocks came more clearly into view, dispersing the
illusion of one of the Valar on his prancing steed, that Ereinion
stopped his pretend play; his face growing flushed at the prospects of the
wealth of treasures he would soon be able to find amidst the small pools of sea
water.

The first of the rocks were quickly reached, and without hesitation, Ereinion scrambled up the surface of a rock that was as
tall as he was. The green and brown seaweed made it difficult however. Having
just been submerged under the tide only an hour past, the plants were slick
from the sea water and it took Ereinion several falls
back onto the sand below, before he managed to hoist himself on top of the
rock.

When he finally stood on the top of his perch, he found that someone else
was already in his favorite spot. Brushing his hands on the front of his tunic
that had become sandy during his failed attempts at climbing, Ereinion jumped down to the hard sand below, not taking
time to consider whether the height was a feasible one to make for such a tiny
being. He hit the ground on his feet, but gravity weighed heavily on his not
yet graceful form and he fell forward on his hand and knees, a grunt pushing
its way out of his mouth.

Standing quickly, Ereinion looked down at his
once again sandy hands, wiping off the offending dirt on the front of his tunic
for the second time. When he was satisfied that his hands were clean enough,
something Círdan was quite picky about when little Ereinion went to eat dinner with his guardian, he glanced
upwards to find a familiar looking elf towering over him, peering down at him
with a quizzical expression on his fair face.

‘Ereinion? What are you doing out here little one? Is Círdan with you?’ The elf gazed past the rock that Ereinion had appeared from, searching the thinning fog for
sight of the Shipwright, but finding no sight of the Telerin
Lord.

‘Círdan is in a meeting,’ Ereinion
explained succinctly, clasping his little hands behind his back in a manner
reminiscent of the elf in question as he continued to look at the dark haired
elf before him that he now recognized as one of Círdan’s
helpers. ‘Why are you not at the meeting, Ryldor?’

Offering the elfling a smile, Ryldor turned his
face to the sea which loomed somewhere in the mists that surrounded the two,
the noise of the waves the only testament of its enduring presence in the near
distance. ‘Círdan had no need for me at that
particular meeting. It does not have anything to do with making sure there are
enough provisions in Beleriand, and thus, I am not
needed.’

‘Oh.’ Ereinion’s mouth molded into a small circle as he looked on at Ryldor with uncomprehending eyes, which shone with a
glimmer of delight when he turned them on the tide pools that surrounded him.
He scampered off a moment later, leaving Ryldor to
think that his presence had been forgotten in the wake of the joys of crabs and
starfish.

He trailed after the noisy exclamations, watching with a hint of concern
as the elfling clumsily rolled up the loose legs of his pants and proceeded to
traipse through the shallow pools he encountered.

‘Ereinion, I do not think it very wise to be
wading through the tide pools,’ he told the child in warning, while watching as
the tiny form of the elfling who would most certainly be his High King some day
if his father was slain, wobbled slightly.

Ereinion had placed his foot on a slippery rock submerged beneath the water, and
the combination of Ryldor’s sudden caution, whose
presence had been all but forgotten by the elfling, along with the shifting
ground beneath him that he had once thought solid and secure, sent him into a
tumble of flailing appendages and dark hair as he splashed into the water.

Ryldor was in the same pool Ereinion had fallen into
in a few brief strides, picking up the sputtering elfling into his arms, and
not quite sure what to do once he was securely held there. He had not had much
contact with elflings, and in accordance with his experience, he braced himself
to hear the little one burst into tears. He was rather shocked to find that instead
of the tears that he would not know how to soothe, Ereinion
wiggled impatiently in his arms.

‘Let me down,’ the elfling instructed in a calm tone when Ryldor did not immediately put him down.

The elf set Ereinion on the ground before him,
a shadow of a smile lingering over his lips at the command that had even now
began to assert itself in Ereinion’s voice. ‘As you
wish, little one,’ he replied in mock seriousness, before adding a formal bow
for flair.

He was rewarded for his actions with a broad smile that lit Ereinion’s features. Taking to his own role with natural
grace, the future High King returned the bow with an incline of his head before
all kingliness disappeared from his visage. Then he promptly dashed off yet
again to discover what new treasures he could find among the tide pools.

Ryldor kept a careful eye on Ereinion as he continued
to play among the rocks, showing the proper amount of interest when the elfling
brought shells along with orange and purple colored starfish over to him.

The morning wore on with little change, Ereinion
seemingly untiring in his exploration, with only an occasional cry of happiness
coming form him when he made some new discovery that warranted sharing with Ryldor. Anar began to wax high in the sky, at last dispersing all
residual fog that clung stubbornly to the areas of rocks that had yet to lose
their coolness under the warm rays of the last fruit of Laurelin.
While watching Ereinion’s carefree play, Ryldor took vigilant watch over the passage of time, making
sure that he would be able to bring Ereinion back to
the attentive eyes and ears of Círdan before Anar reached its
pinnacle of height.

Time held no such importance for Ereinion;
however, who was deftly jumping from one rock to another to make sure no pool was
left unexplored. By the time he reached the end of the grouping of rocks, he
had almost given up hope of finding any trinket worthy to take home to present
to Círdan. While his guardian always showed pleasure
at the treasures from the sea that Ereinion brought
home to present to him, the elfling was not so naïve to not realize that Círdan had seen many things in his long life, and it would
take something far more unique than a common scalloped shell to truly impress
him.

Spying a flash of something white from where he had just been, Ereinion turned to discover what
appeared to be a shell, bleached white from Anar’s rays resting atop a rock.
He made a quick retreat to the rock, crawling carefully along the jagged
surface till he finally reached his goal, grunting in satisfaction when he
noticed that the shell, which he discovered to actually be a sand dollar, was
whole, a rare find with all the sea birds that lived along the shores. Ulmo appeared to take pleasure in the elfling’s
search as he scampered over rocks and through pools, and had left him this
great treasure as reward. The sand dollar dwarfed his small hand as he placed
it in his palm, as he observed that it was unusually large for the ones he
normally found strewn along the white sands of the beach.

Smiling happily, Ereinion clutched his
discovery to his chest. It would most certainly amaze Círdan!
Ereinion hopped down from the rock, taking meticulous
care to ensure that no damage would come to the sand dollar.

‘Ereinion,’ a familiar voice called from above
him when his little feet were securely planted on the ground. Ereinion was aware that the slight strain in the voice
conveyed that the elf was none to pleased, though the tone was tempered with
obvious affection and worry.

Ereinion dropped the sand dollar in his hands out of shock before he spun around
to find Círdan standing above him on a low rock, an arm braced against his bent
leg to support his weight as he leaned down to look at the dirty elfling.
Specks of golden sand littered the young one’s skin and dark hair, clinging in
particular to his drenched tunic that would send the ladies who washed the
clothing into an unpleasant frenzy of protests.

Unfortunately for the tiny elfling, Círdan knew
where to find him with the same clarity that Ereinion
knew where to go when he had the pleasure of unattended free time. Ereinion raised his eyes to meet Círdan’s,
an apologetic expression of innocence on his face that Círdan
was sure had been contrived to appease him. And despite the fact that Círdan knew this, he could not help the rush of relief that
welled within him at seeing his charge safe, quelling all his previous desires
to give Ereinion a lecture on running off unattended.


The Shipwright shifted his gaze to Ryldor,
nodding briefly in thanks for his assistant’s watchfulness over the precious
elfling who had been entrusted into his safekeeping. Ryldor
bowed his head, before wisely leaving the Shipwright and elfling alone.

‘Come along, Ereinion,’ Círdan
told the tiny elfling, stretching a hand down to him. Ereinion
slipped his hand into Círdan’s, little fingers
wrapping around much bigger ones as Círdan pulled the soaked child up to the
rock he stood on. Círdan, however, remained bent
down, observant eyes looking over Ereinion’s form for
any injuries.

‘Amin hiraetha, Círdan,’ Ereinion told the elf
before he had time to say anything to him. Small hands wound around Círdan’s neck, cold and clammy from his play in the water,
as he buried his head into the elder elf’s neck.

In a sweeping motion, Círdan picked Ereinion up
in his arms, letting the small elf nestle his chilled frame into his warm
robes. ‘Isáviel was worried about you, little one.
You should not have run off without telling anyone where you went.’ Círdan moved down from the rock, ready to take the future
High King to the safety of his home when the elfling cried out in protest.

‘Do not leave yet, Círdan! I dropped my sand
dollar. We need to go back to retrieve it. I wanted to give it to you. It was a
big one Círdan. As big as my hand!’
The words came out in an excited string of chatter as Ereinion
shoved his tiny palm into Círdan’s face to prove his
point.

‘Very well, Ereinion,’ he conceded with a
smile, capturing the hand that remained poised in front of his face and
lowering it.

Ereinion nodded happily, ceasing his squirms of protest as Círdan
walked back to where he had discovered his charge and set the child down to
pick up his treasure.

‘It did not break!’ he cried with glee as he picked up the sand dollar.
He jumped up and down in the air before Círdan with
his prize raised high above his head as he tried to show Círdan
what he had found. ‘Look Círdan!’ He clutched at the
Elf Lord’s grey robes, tugging on the clothing as he continued to bounce with
excitement.

Picking Ereinion back up, Círdan
made sure the elfling was comfortable before he looked at the sand dollar that
was held out for him to take. ‘You have found a treasure indeed, Ereinion.’ He took the sand dollar and turned it in his hands, appreciating the time it must have taken Ereinion to find it, before he offered it back to the
elfling.

Ereinion shook his head vigorously, sending wet locks of his hair tumbling over
his little shoulders. ‘It is for you,’ he clarified, pushing the hand that held
the sand dollar towards Círdan. The young one’s face
remained serious as Círdan looked down upon him with
his ageless eyes, discerning the unreserved love that went with the gift.

Círdan allowed himself a smile as he continued to gaze at Ereinion.
‘Diola lle. I
shall put it on my desk for all the important elves to see when they come to
visit me. Would that suit you?’ he asked, clutching Ereinion
closer as he dropped the sand dollar into a pocket that was concealed in the
folds of his robe.

The dark eyes of Ereinion widened at Círdan’s suggestion. ‘Will you tell them that I found it?’
he asked in awe, wrapping his arms around the Shipwright’s neck again while
tugging at him for an answer.

‘Of course. If they ask me about it, I shall tell them
that Ereinion, son of Fingon,
High King of the Elves, gifted me with the magnificent specimen of a sand
dollar that they see before their eyes.’

A giggle escaped from Ereinion at Círdan’s antics, before he settled contentedly in his
protector’s arms, resting his cheek against the rich folds of the elf’s robes. Círdan picked his way carefully over the rocks, making sure
not to drop his precious burden, who was now beginning
to tremble from the cold.

‘You should not have run off without telling anyone, little one,’ he admonished
lightly, wrapping a few of the excess folds in his robe around the elfling to
shield him from the wind blowing in from the sea.

‘But if I am ever going to be High
King some day like my ada,
I will have to be able to go places on my own,’ Ereinion lad reasoned from his comfortable position against Círdan, though his protest came out through his
chattering teeth. 

‘And you will,’ Círdan assured, ‘some day. But you are not yet old enough
to be wandering out on the shore by yourself, Ereinion.
If you want to go somewhere, all you need to do is ask someone and they will
take you.’

By the silence that followed, Círdan was not sure if the elfling had
heard him or not. He shifted Ereinion’s light weight
in his arms, trying to catch a glimpse of the child. He was confronted with a
pensive look from Ereinion that broke the smooth brow
of the elfling into wrinkles as he scrunched his nose. It took much of Círdan’s power not to allow the deep laugh that welled
within him from escaping the confines of his body.

‘Why must I always have an escort when all the other elflings my age are
allowed to roam freely?’

‘Because you are the son of Fingon, and if
something should ever happen to your father, you shall be the High King of the Eldar. We do not want someone as important as the King of
Elves to get lost or hurt do we?’ Círdan brushed a
stray strand of hair away from the elfling’s face
when he was done speaking, watching the expressions flit across the little
one’s features as he thought of a response.

‘Why am I more important than other elves? I thought you said that all
elves are special in the eyes of the Valar.’

‘I did indeed,’ Círdan replied, his brow
furrowing as he tried to think of an explanation that would make sense to the
young mind of the elfling. ‘All the Eldar are
important in the eyes of the Valar and Ilúvatar, but
you are especially important to all elves because when they look upon you, they
remember to take pride in their race and to hope for a better future.’

Wiggling a bit, Ereinion’s pink tongue stuck
out from the corner of his mouth as he contemplated Círdan’s
words. ‘So I make others happy?’ he asked at last.

‘Yes, little one,’ Círdan answered, laughing
softly as a pleased smile lifted Ereinion’s lips
upwards. ‘You bring joy to all the Eldar who look
upon you.’

Ereinion seemed to except his fate and the weight that went with it as he fully
settled against Círdan and let the Elf Lord take him
to the safety of his home. He was content with his escapade for the day, a
brief respite for the adventure he craved even at his young age. For now;
however, it was all the freedom he needed as he let the comfort of Círdan’s embrace lull him to slumber.

-~~*~~-

 

 

Anar- the sun, created from the last fruit of Laurelin,
one of the two trees that once gave light to the Valinor

Amin hiraetha- I’m sorry (Sindarin)

ada- A shortened form of adar-
meaning father