On the coldest of days, he would wander closer to the little fishing towns on the shore and away from the bitter bite of the sea breezes. He had nearly stopped feeling the cold at all, but when his flute squawked from being full of ice or his feet would ache to move, he knew it was necessary to pull himself away from the sea. If he did not, surely it would mean death. It was not that he did not wish to embrace death, but he felt he was still a coward, still unable to face even that.

It was on one such occasion that he wandered himself into the midst of a group of houses; the wind and flying snow had been so harsh he had not seen where he was going to. One of the houses had a roof that hung just that much further out and it was a perfect place for him to wait out the storm. Wrapping his cloak around him, he burrowed into it, a pile of green with tufts of reddish-brown hair wisping about.

- - -

“Are you going to ask him to come inside?” A housewife with the cheerful cheeks stood behind her husband, who had been going to the window and lifting up the curtain from time to time.

“How do we know he is not some sort of ruffian, hmm?” But the blacksmith seemed to be quite aware of the fact this one was not.

His wife shook her head. “No sword, no bow, no knives that I can see. Cold and thin, pale and starved. Of all days of the year to show kindness—“

“Yes, mother,” he said in a worn tone, having heard all such things before. His wife had a soft spot for strays, be it a man or a cat or dog, and his children all laughed at the exchange. The seven youngest were happily playing with their new toys, while his eldest son sat by the fire carving a duck with the new tools he had been gifted with.

- - -

“Well, are you going to stay out here all night and freeze?”

Maglor looked up, blinking the snowflakes away from his sight. “Sorry, sir. I will go. I did not mean to cause trouble.” The ellon stood with some difficulty, his legs stiff from the cold.

“Not without a warm meal, lad,” decided the blacksmith as he tugged Maglor forward. The elf tilted his head in surprise, but then realized that even being thousands upon thousands of years older than this man, he still looked young enough to be half his age.

Meekly he nodded, and followed the man into the house. The dwelling was a sharp contrast to the dreariness outside. Within, there was warm and firelight and freshly baked breads, peppermint cookies and spiced pears. On the table were bowls of bread pudding and a plate still containing the remains of a goose, though both legs were missing as was quite a lot of the meat.

“Mother, make up a plate for our guest, dear,” called out the blacksmith as he shut the door. The lady nodded her head and was heaping goose and bread onto a plate and filling a mug with mead.

“Lookit his hair, marma!” shouted one of the little girls playing with a new little dolly in a calico dress.

“Hush, you’ve seen red hair before,” scolded the mother, holding the plate and mug while her husband divested Maglor of his snow-caked cloak. “Sit here, by the fire,” she insisted, herding the ellon to a chair near the warmth.

“Only on Farmer Jonas’ dogs!” giggled another child.

“Stop being rude to our guest!” The blacksmith sat down upon another chair, retrieving a glass of brandy from a table nearby.

Maglor smiled. “Actually, I do not mind. It is a little funny, right? Silly red hair – my brothers teased me about it, too.”

“Oooo, you have brothers? How many?”

All of the toys were forgotten now as the children swarmed around Maglor’s feet. “Well, I have six brothers,” he said, “although of all of them I only really got along well with my eldest brother. We lived together for a while.”

“Were you in business together?” asked the man, now packing his pipe.

“Something like that,” said the ellon with a faraway look in his eyes. “It is a tale with an unhappy ending.”

“Be that as it may, we’ve one foot in already, young fella. Go on with the rest.”

Maglor stared into the fire, and said, “He lived with me because he could not live on his own. You see, he lost one of his hands in a sort of cruel twist of fate. My father’s enemy offered peace, but it was a falsehood, and my brother suffered because of it. He would not admit it, but he needed someone to help take care of him and I was the only one he trusted.”

“He asked me many times to take his life, but I could not. He was my brother!” Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “Sorry, I did not mean to shout.”

“It was very good of you to take him in,” said the lady, patting Maglor’s shoulder. “Now, you eat up. Children, time for bed. You’ve all had a long day already,” she said to the whines of discord among her sons and daughters.

Maglor ate silently, thanking his hosts profusely after he cleaned his plate. “You know,” said the man, “I happen to by the town’s smithy, but my work is always in demand. Jeremiah here is going to start apprenticing this spring. I have more than enough work to take on two. You aren’t in any trouble, right?”

“No sir, nothing of the sort.” A little smile pulled at the corner of Maglor’s lips. Oh, if only they knew that he held secrets of the forge that they could never dream of possessing... but he simply nodded. “I will consider your offer. It is very kind, sir, thank you.”

“Well then, I am off to find sleep. I suggest you stay the night, lad, and stay on the couch. It’s warmest there by the fire, and there’s a blanket on the back of the chair for you. Jeremiah, check the fires before you go to bed.” With that, the man headed up the stairs to join his wife.

“What happened to your brother?” asked Jeremiah, examining his carved duck.

Again, Maglor stared at the flames. “He killed himself,” he said quietly. “Although he told me there were other reasons for it, I know it was because he could not stand being reliant upon me or anyone else. So many times, he would just be sitting next to me, just as you are now, and so calmly he would turn to me and say, ‘brother, will you kill me, please?’ and every time I told him ‘no’. I suppose I was selfish. I just did not want to let him go.”

“Paw always says, it isn’t right to regret the things you can’t change.”

“Your father is a wise man,” remarked Maglor. “A kind man, too.”

Jeremiah added wood to the fire and put his tools away in a brushed leather case. “In the morning you will be gone, won’t you?”

“Probably,” Maglor admitted.

“I ended up here, sort of like you once,” Jeremiah told him. “I ran from home. Had a terrible paw who drank all the time and beat me. Didn’t have no maw. Decided one day to run and just ended up here. Marm an’ Paw took me in and let me stay here. They’re good people.”

“They certainly are.”

“You should really think about the apprenticing. I can tell you’d be a good guy to work with. Even tempered and all. Well, good night,” said Jeremiah as he headed up the stairs.

The idea of rest in a warm, comfortable place was too much of a temptation. Maglor curled up on the sofa, and found himself slipping from reverie to sleep very soon.

“Marm, I can’t set the table for breakfast!”

“Why not, Jalynne?” called out the lady’s voice to the youngest of her daughters.

“Cause the tall boy with the red hair already did it!”

Maglor, who was just coming back into the house with a pile of firewood, grinned at the description of himself. “I was up early,” he explained.

“Now, I don’t mind some help in the chores, but everyone has to do a little something around here. Jalynne, you help me make breakfast then.”

“Yes, marm.”

“So, you decided to stay, did you?”

Maglor turned to see Jeremiah, still in his nightclothes, his hair askew at odd angles. “Just for a little while, I think,” replied the ellon.

“We need to have something to call you,” said Jeremiah. “So what is your name?”

“Maybe we could skip the name.”

Jeremiah crossed his arms over his chest. “If it’s cause you’re an elf, marm already saw your ears.”

Cheeks flushing, Maglor simply said, “Oh.”

“S’alright, if you don’t want to use your real name, we’ll think of something, red,” said Jeremiah, boldly mussing Maglor’s hair as he passed.

Hearing this little exchange, the lady said, “Red, I need a pail of water fetched from the well. If it’s froze over, just bring back a bucket of snow.”

“Not yellow snow!” added Jalynne loudly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but Maglor was stopped at the door by the woman, now wielding a large spatula.

“Yes, what?”

“Er... yes... um...”

“Yes, marm,” hissed Jalynne from behind her mother.

“Yes, marm,” repeated Maglor, and he was allowed to pass.

“See, mother,” said the blacksmith after Maglor had exited, “I told you, you just wait long enough, sooner or later you were bound to end up adopting an elf, too.”