Chapter Text
"So, let me see if I've gotten this straight," began Maedhros. He was determined to get a real answer this time.
"I am listening, Other-Father," replied Elrond, with his customary kind courtesy.
As they spoke, they continued their walk along the oceanside cliff from Elrond's parents' home towards the harbor where Vingilot was docked. The Mariner had sent out a call for extra warriors to join his crew this evening, because he expected that a monster would break through from the Void tonight. Or, as Fingon had put it with an enthusiastic grin on his face when he'd invited Maedhros, 'we're having another fun little Dagor Dagorath warm up practice. Do say that you'll join us!'
Even if fighting Void monsters hadn't sounded like fun to Maedhros too, he would have agreed. He'd always had trouble saying ‘no’ to Fingon. As Elrond would be participating tonight as well, of course Maedhros wanted to be there. Since the Lindar of Alqualonde were generous enough to consider fighting Void monsters to be just as much a community service to Valinor as the more humble tasks Maedhros was performing for them in Alqualonde at the direction of Olwe and his Council, there had been no impediment to Maedhros accepting Fingon's cheerful invitation.
As they walked, a motorized boat carrying some of Elrond's Sindarin kinsmen passed Elrond and Maedhros, on its own way to Earendil's ship. Elrond waved in welcome. Maedhros was certain that the five blond elves in the vessel would much prefer it if he didn't follow suit.
If Maedhros had these particular five blond Sindarin royals straight, then Elrond's great-grandfather Prince Elmo was piloting the craft. The two tall broad shouldered silver-blond elves who arose to put themselves in between Maedhros and the two elves in the back of the craft were Elrond's older kinsmen, Celeborn and Celepharn. If Maedhros recalled correctly, they were first cousins, and Elmo's grandsons.
Meanwhile, Maedhros was confident that the two younger Sindarin royals currently snickering at the overprotectiveness of their elders were the golden blond former king, Thranduil Oropherion, and his ash blond younger cousin, Ecthelion "Theli" Diorchil. Maedhros believed that Thranduil was the youngest of Celepharn's grandsons, whereas Theli was a great-grandson of Dior. As Maedhros watched, Theli shook his head ruefully and handed some coins to Thranduil.
Maedhros understood why any Sindarin elf might abhor and even fear him. He did not understand why, with at least fifty feet of water between him and their boat, Celeborn and Celepharn felt the need to protect their younger kinsmen from Maedhros. Not in this specific moment, and not with these specific younger relatives. Elmo and Dior had approved Thranduil and Theli as members for Vingilot's Company Extraordinary. So, it followed that they must be warrior-mages of such caliber that the heads of their family felt them up to the challenge of fighting malicious invaders from the Everlasting Darkness.
Although Maedhros supposed that he could sympathize with Celeborn and Celepharn being defensive of their younger kinsmen, even to the extent of being overprotective. Maedhros went so far as to approve of it, in Celeborn’s case. Celeborn was to Elrond both great-uncle and father-by-law. He would likely extend the mantle of his protection over Maedhros’ beloved stolen son.
Maedhros acknowledged that he himself was guilty of being overprotective when it came to Elrond. As soon as he’d had the chance after his re-birth, he’d personally put Elrond’s martial and magical fitness to the most strenuous tests that he and Maglor could think up. It was vitally important to both of them that Elrond be as peerless in such areas as possible. Particularly since Elrond insisted upon engaging in such demanding endeavors as battling Void monsters.
Despite Elrond already having met Fingolfin’s, Dior’s and Earendil’s qualifications, Maedhros had been aided and abetted in putting Elrond through his paces yet again by Earendil, Glorfindel, and Ereinion Gil-galad. All three of them were on Maedhros’ side, when it came to Elrond not stinting time in the practice yard in favor of his preferred haunts of libraries and healing halls.
Elrond had not protested this paternal imposition. Well, not beyond a sigh and a rueful smile. Maedhros’ younger adoptive son, who had always been a thoughtful child, had grown up into an adult who put his father-figures’ peace-of-mind above his own interests. It was a self-sacrificing tendency of Elrond’s that Maedhros had made a note to keep an eye on. He thought that he could count on all of Elrond’s other parental figures to aid and abet him in that.
Once the watercraft of Sindar had passed them by, Maedhros shook himself free of such abstractions in favor of his current objective. He gestured at the boat of Sindarin royals as he asked Elrond, “You convinced THEM to sign your petition in favor of MY re-embodiment, on the grounds that it was 'simply a matter of making sensible staffing decisions?'"
"More or less," answered Elrond, now gently amused.
"Unpack that for me, if you will, Heart-son."
"I didn't convince them to do anything," Elrond explained, still amused. "I merely waited for your name to come up organically in a conversation with Thranduil. Then he worked himself around to realizing that you represent a sensible choice to want to 'staff' our side with, when Dagor Dagorath draws nigh. He subsequently put himself to the trouble of convincing large swaths of the populations in the various Doriathrin legacy kingdoms on Tol Eressea to sign the petition."
"Elrond, all four of that poor youth's grandparents were slain by those sworn to my service during the Second Kinslaying. What kind of a conversation were you having with Thranduil, that my name came up 'organically?'"
"You would be surprised how often that happens, actually," replied Elrond, with an affectionate smile. "Thranduil always is."
"Explain. Please."
"Well, my dear younger cousin was upbraiding me – again - for not having invited him to join my father's Extraordinary Crew in fighting aggressive creatures from the Everlasting Darkness. Thranduil feels strongly that I should have extended that invitation the very instant he set foot on Tol Eressea from the ship which had carried him here from Middle Earth."
"Ah," Maedhros had to laugh. "Has he forgiven you yet for that grave slight?"
"Not even close," answered Elrond with a smile. "Not even after Celebrian showed him some of the later letters in my correspondence on the subject with his father. The ones wherein Oropher told me quite firmly that he didn't want Thranduil troubled with the matter. He even went so far as to threaten blackmail. Although I think that he is too fond of me to have actually gone through with it."
Maedhros was curious, but he would not be distracted.
Elrond waited to see if he would take the bait, before continuing, "You see, Thranduil has much the same taste in what constitutes a fun afternoon's diversion as Fingon."
"So I have gathered."
"Oh?"
"The first time we met in person after I was reborn, your cousin told me that the least I could do to make up for ‘killing everyone's grandparents' was to help him figure out a better way to prepare the warriors of present day Aman for fighting dragons than merely fighting Void monsters. He went on to add that most Void creatures do not breathe flame. He sounded to me as if he disapproved of this as a flaw in their armament mix, Elrond."
"Oh, he does,” Elrond confirmed dryly. “He had a near-fatal experience with a fire-breathing dragon once, when he and his party had gone out expecting to find only cold drakes. He has wanted a re-match with a flame breather ever since. He wasn't willing to commit his warriors en masse against a great dragon during the Third Age. Not unless he truly had no other choice. But, on some level, he found it vexing not to have a sufficiently dire reason to train up an elite group and then lead them to take on Smaug himself. That was the dragon's name."
"I see. Your cousin Thranduil then proceeded to criticize my best bit of dragon fighting advice as 'boring.'"
"This is not surprising to me,” said Elrond, with a twinkle in his iridescent blue-gray eyes. “Elros once felt much the same, you know.
"Oh, I remember."
"Although I must concede that ‘never leave all the dragon fighting teams with only one of your two armies, even if you are planning for them to meet up before the battle,' was good advice, Other-father. Ereinion and Great-Uncle Finarfin were appreciative, when we conveyed it to them for you, during the War of Wrath. That is, once they had translated it from Elros' terminology."
"Don't tell me, let me guess,” requested Maedhros, his tone wry yet tender. “It was something like, ‘the toast always falls dragon side down.'"
Elrond acknowledged with a bittersweet nod, "Yes, that was how he put it. In any case, Thranduil did seem to feel that it lacked something in the way of drama and excitement, when I first told him of it."
"Fingon holds the same opinion,” Maedhros shared with a long-suffering sigh. “Until the very moment the Balrog cleaved his head in two, he told me that he was having a 'wonderfully invigorating time' at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Well, except for the part where his soldiers were getting slaughtered due to my failings. I should have expected treachery, because I knew Morgoth. I should certainly have had the basic foresight to follow what later became my first article of monster fighting advice."
"I know that you were in charge, Other-Father. But a wise elf once taught me that mistakes of that magnitude can only be made by committee."
Maedhros suppressed a smile, "Does Earendil enjoy it when you throw his own words back in his face?"
"Yes."
Maedhros favored his stolen son with a dubious expression.
"Well, at least sometimes, he does," Elrond amended with an abashed grin. "Elros must have gotten his sense of humor from somewhere, after all."
"I will concede that much. Why don't you go back and explain for me how you led a conversation in such a direction that your intelligent if hot-headed cousin 'realized' that I should be Reborn for the purpose of 'sensible human resources management?' Don't forget to include the part where you convinced him that this goal was worth his jeopardizing the fine reputation it took him the entire Third Age to build?"
Elrond laughed. Maedhros glowered at him. This only made Elrond laugh harder. Maglor had clearly been a bad influence on him. Although, to be fair to Maglor, the same could probably be said of Earendil, in this instance.
When Elrond finally caught his breath, he said, "One cannot lead Thranduil anywhere he doesn't already want to go."
"Stop evading, you maddening child!" commanded Maedhros, although he had to hide a smile as he did so.
“I am trying to be straightforward, Other-father,” replied Elrond, who was still failing to suppress his mirth. “It was not that I ‘led’ Thranduil anywhere. Given the monster fight which had preceded it, our discussion naturally went in such a direction that Thranduil realized there existed a 'place' he'd never considered before. One which was, in his opinion, a ‘destination’ where it would be advisable for us all to journey. Despite his and his countrymen’s distaste for the idea.”
"That is an insufficiently illuminating explanation. Try again."
“You know how Atto Earendil is having everyone whom he thinks might make a good field commander for the final battle take a turn at commanding Void monster fights, because he thinks it's good practice?"
"He's right. In that it is as good as it gets, until we can figure out something better," acknowledged Maedhros.
"Arandil Glorfindelchil was in command, on that first monster fighting voyage after Thranduil convinced his father to send him as one of Eryn Brongalen's delegates."
"I don't see anything wrong with that choice,” commented Maedhros. “Arandil has a sound grasp on tactics and strategy. At least, when he cares to apply himself." Glorfindel’s son had managed to kill both halves of Ambarussa at Sirion by himself, after all.
Elrond grinned, "That's it, exactly."
"For the love of Eru, will you please stop trolling me, and just explain?" exclaimed Maedhros in utter exasperation.
"Well, Thranduil thinks so, too,” Elrond began again, “But he was expecting to have to defend Arandil's good name as a war leader, since Arandil had spent most of his time on Middle Earth doing his best to decline to apply himself in that respect. My young cousin was a little disappointed to have geared himself up for an argument that he didn't get to have. I explained to him that everyone who had taken a hand in Arandil's training, even Glorfindel, had thought that Arandil had the potential to become, say, one of the top hundred or so best warriors amongst the elven peoples."
"And the significance of this is?"
"Thranduil is allergic to not knowing everything he can possibly figure out about the pasts of the elves whom he loves. He loves me, and Arandil. He is well aware of how you and our Song-Father Maglor used to train Elros and me over the winter off-seasons during the War of Wrath. He knows that Arandil was most often with us, then. He is also aware of much of what you taught us, because we later passed it onto him, in our turn. He knows that we have many times owed our lives to our having once been your students."
"So?"
"So, Thranduil no sooner heard me make that comment, then he deduced that you were one of those who had once said so, about Arandil. He promptly reacted with his normal response to hearing me elide over a mention of you."
"Which is?"
"'Ugh. Maedhros Feanorion really said that?' Or 'did that,' as the case may be."
"I see."
"Thranduil jumped almost immediately from there to 'wait, does Glorfindel think that Maedhros would still be one of the top, say, fifty field commanders amongst our peoples?'"
"I don't even know if I am one of the top fifty, anymore," Maedros remarked drolly.
"When I extemporized, Thranduil recounted to me how even Glorfindel considered you to have been the finest general of the First Age. He added that Glorfindel once explained to him how you had lost the Battle of Unnumbered Tears due to treachery, as opposed to faulty strategy or tactics."
"Only if you don't consider my failure to adequately account for treachery OR my having allowed the specialist monster fighting teams to travel with only one of our two armies as constituting deficits in my strategic planning," Maedhros countered sardonically.
Elrond chuckled, "You just won me a bet, by saying that."
"I don't want to know. Continue," prompted Maedhros fondly.
"Well, when I still didn't have an answer for him, Thranduil concluded that Glorfindel probably thought that you were."
"Does he?"
"I assume so. Do you want me to ask him?"
"By no means. I would far rather live in suspense."
"My guess is that Thranduil asked him. At some point between when we first had that conversation, and when he called in a debt with Uncle Celeborn, to get Celeborn to sign the petition."
"Oh?"
"You don't want to know,” refused Elrond, with an uncharacteristically grim expression. “It's not a happy story."
"I am sorry to hear that. Celeborn understandably wants to keep me far away from everyone he cares about. But I have always been fond of Galadriel. She was the youngest of us all, barring only Ambarussa. Fingon, Finrod, and I used to worry that she would never find an ellon strong enough in himself to be a match for her. For that alone, I would wish Celeborn well. I know that my actions have caused him and Galadriel unspeakable anguish, for which . . ."
The quality of Elrond's listening silence changed.
Maedhros stopped. Elrond was well aware of Maedhros' multiple reasons for the later Kinslayings, so Maedhros didn't have to repeat them again. He simply promised Elrond, "Yes, my Wise Little Owl. I have learned that it is best to lose a battle instead of taking one life - let alone leading a Kinslaying. I have learned to trust that even if my staying my hand does result in our Enemies gaining an advantage which may enable them to win the war, that it is still the right thing to do."
"Ultimately, or strategically?"
Maedhros smiled at hearing yet more evidence of his son's ability to parse rhetoric. "The first," he answered. "But I can also hope that the beings who are spared to live on will act in such ways as to make that choice end up being the right choice strategically, as well. Whether it is in the framework of our loving Creator's plan that they do so, or simply that their own will and actions result in that benefit, to our good fortune. I have also learned to trust in Eru Iluvatar. To trust that he loves his children so completely that he will act to prevent them from doing something so cruel to themselves as swearing themselves to the Void. At least, without far better reason than we gave him to see us imprisoned in such a way.” Feanor creating a ‘summer home’ in the Void for himself and his sons, in a fit of spite towards Mandos and the other Valar, had been a different matter entirely. In that it had been Feanor’s own choice.
Maedhros was proud that his father had used his ability to quit the Halls of Mandos at will and spend time in the Void for the greater good. Although whether Feanor had initially begun to warn Earendil through the Silmaril of impending incursions by Void monsters for the good of all the beings in Valinor and Middle Earth, Maedhros himself was unsure. Maglor and Ambarussa thought so. But they, like Elrond, were prone to seeing the best in everyone. This often worked out for them. After all, those who expected the best from those around them were more likely to receive it. For this reason, Maedhros himself tried to at least appear to err on the side of optimism on this point, including when interacting with his father.
Maedhros was unsure whether Caranthir, Celegorm and Curufin were in the right, when they maintained that Feanor had begun helping to protect Arda more because his estranged wife, his sons and his grandson were there, rather than because he cared about the good of beings he considered himself unrelated to. They had gone on to accuse Feanor – behind his back – of continuing in his protective role during the Second Age solely for the sake of Nerdanel, Celebrimbor, Elrond, Elros, and Elros’ descendants.
On that point, Maedhros had weighed in on the side of Maglor and Ambarussa. He had not done so merely because he felt that Feanor would make their sometimes-home in the Void unbearable if he happened to overhear his more cynical sons impugning his actions in such a manner. No, Maedhros sincerely believed that, even if Feanor hadn’t embarked upon the task with higher motives, that he had been converted into having them, along the way.
As Elrond had once argued to Maedhros, some people found it hard to do good, and see the results of doing good, without feeling encouraged to do more good. Even when doing so merely for that future goodness’ own sake. Feanor was such a person, in Maedhros’ judgement. Unfortunately for Celebrimbor, Sauron had not, in the end, turned out to be such a being. Although both Galadriel and Elrond thought that he had been at least minimally tempted, in that regard. They, and Maedhros and his family, still felt deep anger over Sauron's torture-murder of Celebrimbor.
Maedhros forced himself to think of something else. As what occurred to him first was something he thought that Elrond would find reassuring, he went on to say, “As Eru loves my father and his sons like his own prodigal sons, despite everything, I must have faith that his love is without limit. As is his ability to turn negative events set in motion by Morgoth’s marring into only greater wonder and beauty."
"I am relieved to hear you say these things again,” Elrond confessed quietly, “even though Aunt Galadriel and I believed you, the first time."
"I know, my dear child. Be comforted that I do not believe that the Powers would have consented to my being Reborn, petition or no, if I hadn't first internalized all of that.
Elrond seemed unconvinced by this.
When Maedhros gave him a questioning look, Elrond ventured, "Please understand, first, that I do love and reverence the Valar. I am fortunate enough to have come to know some among them well enough to like them and consider them friends."
"Mmm. Yes. So I have heard from Galadriel, amongst others. From Mandos, as well. He likes you, too. For all that he finds you to be nearly as unbearably persuasive as your long-mother Luthien."
Elrond laughed, "Oh? He has never said so to me. Although I have gotten the feeling that I exasperate him, on more than one occasion."
"He is not alone in that. Get to your 'but.' You love and reverence the Valar, but?"
"And yet, they can be wrong. They do make mistakes. And the scope of those mistakes . . ."
"Can be catastrophic."
"Yes. So, I find it more comforting to hear you give me your word as to the lessons you have learned, than I do to merely have faith that the Valar saw clearly to the intentions in your heart before Namo consented that you might be reborn. Aunt Galadriel feels similarly, I know."
"So she has said." That had not been all she had said. What she had told Maedhros had been respectful, as it related to the Valar themselves, as individuals. Which made sense, as many of them were her friends as well as her teachers. However, her criticisms of some of the Valar's decisions and opinions had been scathing.
Apparently, Maedhros' pause had gone on long enough to prompt Elrond's curiosity. Since he did not want to explain his chain of thought, Maedhros started walking again. He confessed, "I am sorry that your Aunt-my-cousin's continuing affection for me, and her willingness to forgive me my crimes, has come to cause trouble in her marriage."
"You need not worry about that,” Elrond gently but firmly assured him. “She and Uncle Celeborn have always found things to argue about. They are each strong enough in themselves to permit areas of vast disagreement in their marriage without such arguments leading to any diminution of love or respect."
"Still, I wish them only joy. Nor do I wish any trouble on your cousin Thranduil, who reminds me not only of Fingon but also of both Caranthir and Turgon."
"Really?” remarked Elrond, clearly intrigued. “As soon as you told me that Thranduil invited you to join him in his long-running 'figuring out how best to practice fighting dragons' project, I realized that he would remind you of Fingon. But I don’t know enough of Caranthir to see him in Thranduil. Although I can understand, having come to know Great-grandfather Turgon, how Thranduil would remind you of Turgon."
"Oh?"
"I have heard enough to know that Turgon was often critical of you and your brothers, due to things that you had done at the behest of your father. Because he is protective of those who were harmed by your actions."
“In that instance, justifiably so,” allowed Maedhros. “In other cases, Turgon can be overprotective to a fault, and slow to forgive. When, that is, he forgives at all. He is also prone to overreacting when he’s been worried over any danger to someone he loves. Whether the danger they courted was physical, or social, or otherwise.”
“Oh, of that I am well aware!”
“I would almost be more surprised if you hadn’t stepped on Turgon’s toes in some matter of protocol since your arrival in the West, than that you have,” mused Maedhros.
“I wish that I had offended him merely in a matter of Amaneldi protocol!" exclaimed Elrond ruefully. “He has been very patient with me, in that regard.”
“I am proud of him, then. How did you err, if not in that manner?”
“I’d rather not say,” Elrond demurred.
Despite his son’s coppery brown complexion, Maedhros could tell that Elrond was blushing. He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t be like that,” laughed Elrond.
When Maedhros did not desist, Elrond sighed. Then he shook his head with a rueful chuckle. Only afterward did he offer the partial answer, “Ask Arandil, if you truly must know. I’m too embarrassed to explain that incident again, if I can at all help it.”
“I will ask Arandil. Although I can guess, from what you have said, that you were the recipient of one of Turgon’s characteristic non-apologies. The ones that he is apt to give in the wake of an excessive overreaction on his part to someone he loves having put themself in danger. Fingon and I used to have to intervene, after Turgon had punished one of his warrior trainees for any infraction in the course of which they’d scared him."
"Really?"
"Yes. We had to pressure him to call his erring warrior back so that he could 'use his words' and explain that, although he had been angry about whatever mistakes were made, he did still value that retainer, and view him as worth teaching. If we hadn't done so, your great-grandfather would have discouraged - maybe even lost - some of his best young elves.” Including a young Glorfindel. Although Maedhros would do him the favor of not mentioning this to Elrond. It seemed only fair, given Glorfindel’s having once been Ambarussa’s favorite elflinghood mentor.
“To be fair to Great-grandfather Turgon,” said Elrond, who always tried to be fair, “I had been very foolish. Specifically in ways which touched upon one of his past traumas.”
“Ah. How did you manage to fall into freezing water? Or court hypothermia?”
“I am not telling you this story, Other-Father. Ask Arandil.”
“How did Arandil get involved?”
“He locked Great-grandfather Turgon and me in a library together, to get us to make peace between us."
"I suspect what you mean is that his doing so gave Turgon an opportunity to find a bribe sufficient to entice you to forgive him. Since I imagine that you were doing an excellent job of avoiding him. Or of treating him with distant formal courtesy on those rare occasions when you could not manage complete avoidance." Maedhros had always preferred even Elros' most dramatic tantrums to Elrond's distancing himself from them until they had managed to earn his forgiveness.
Elrond smiled self-consciously as he said, "It is a good thing that I am still glad to have your company, even though you see my faults so clearly.
"You have so few faults, my Little Owl, that they tend to be noticeable to those of us who pay you close attention."
"Well, let us just say that being locked in a place we both found congenial gave us time to find common ground. As well as, yes, an opportunity for Great-grandfather Turgon to amply demonstrate that he was willing to do practically anything to inspire me to stop avoiding him and feel comfortable spending time with him. Anything other, that is, than compromising on a matter of my safety.”
“Ah. What did he do to Arandil, may I ask, for locking him in a library? That’s not the type of breach of decorum Turgon would usually put up with, from one of his younger kinsmen and retainers. No matter how noble the motive.”
“I think he was so grateful that I stopped avoiding him thereafter, that he let Arandil charm him into letting the matter go entirely.”
Maedhros laughed, “I’d heard that Turgon was at least as indulgent with Arandil as he’s ever been with Idril or Earendil. But I’d never before been offered such persuasive proof of it.”
“I’m surprised by that. Glorfindel does so like to complain about how Great-grandfather Turgon spoils Arandil.”
“Not to me.”
“Ah. Well, perhaps he will, later in the future.”
“Perhaps.” Although Maedhros found it unlikely that he would ever so completely earn Glorfindel's forgiveness. There was no hope of earning Turgon's.
“How does Thranduil remind you of your brother Caranthir?” Elrond inquired hopefully.
“He seems prickly. Except when he is with those whom he trusts unconditionally. And sometimes even with them.”
“Ah.”
"Also, sarcastic and snarky. Although your cousin tends to be wittier and lighter with it, as compared to Caranthir."
"Thranduil can be quite witty," allowed Elrond.
“He struck me as being so protective of those he loves, that he is prone to overreact at the merest slight against them. Whether a slight was intended or not.”
“I see.”
"He seems to be aggressively competent in his chosen vocation. I sense that he is equally capable of becoming competent in many other areas. Except that he chooses to portray himself as unable or at least unwilling to learn to do so, because he does not care to turn his hand to things which he is not passionate about. Especially not to anything which he finds it irritating to have to deal with. However, if those he loves require him to do so, he will not stint."
"Hmm."
“He is perfectly willing to put himself into jeopardy, to the extent of being reckless and self-sacrificing at times. Yet he is inclined to overreact when those he loves do the same thing.”
“Hmm.” The quality of this second 'hmm' was more thoughtful.
“No?” Maedhros was surprised. Usually his deductions were accurate.
“Perhaps.”
“Not with you, then.”
“I don’t know as anything I’ve done has ever worried him so.”
“Ask your diminutive ash-blond kinsman. I’d wager he would know.”
“I’m not answering that,” denied Elrond in a friendly fashion.
"Then why don't you finish your account of how I ‘came up organically’ in your conversation with Thranduil, my Little Owl?"
"There isn't much more to say. At that point in our discussion, Thranduil reluctantly decided that he would have to get involved in politics. In his eyes, having someone who should even potentially be on the Dagor Dagorath officer shortlist biding his time in Mandos instead of practicing how to work together as a team with Valinor's other great warriors was a 'stupid, short-sighted staffing decision.' Thranduil is also allergic to stupidity."
"Ah, I see. Thank you for answering my question. Finally."
"You're welcome, Other-father,” replied Elrond, with an impish gleam in his slate gray eyes. “You value patience so much in others, I would think that you would be more appreciative of the opportunity I just gave you to practice it yourself."
Maedhros had to hide another smile, at that. After a moment, he said, "I suppose that I should help Thranduil figure out a better way for elves to prepare for fighting dragons."
"It would be the least that you could do. You know, after having killed ‘everybody's grandparents,’" Elrond agreed lightly.
"While your cousin has graciously allowed that I may have some time to think up a useful dragon surrogate, he has also informed me that my making the time to spar with him the next time we meet is also the least I can do. I have agreed. So, tell me, is your protege Thranduil going to wait until Celeborn and Celepharn aren't looking tonight, to remind me of that? Or is he going to wait until they are?"
Elrond laughed. But he did not give Maedhros an answer.
Before Maedhros could press his charmingly infuriating son on that point, they arrived at their destination. Fingon came to meet them as they stepped on board the ship. He wore his usual brilliant grin. His blue-gray eyes, the same shade as Elrond's, gleamed with love and joy at seeing Maedhros.