“I did a little scouting, a little recon as it were, and as far as anyone can tell they were never given names.”

Maglor looked up at his older brother but was careful not to disturb either of the elflings. One was asleep on either side of him, mirroring the other not only in actions but in appearance as well, except for the fact that the one who was a little bolder and perhaps a little older had torn his shirt along the bottom.

When they found the pair, the little ones seemed curious, yet cautious. Now, on the third day, they had silently and mutually decided that their rescuers were safe and snuggled up to Maglor when he settled down to rest near the campfire. “Who did you consult with? I thought they were the only survivors.”

“Local folk,” replied Maedhros. “I talked to some trees and a couple of woodland creatures.” He cleared his throat and sat down near his brother.

“Because the trees are ever so reliable in remembering things,” teased Maglor.

Maedhros shrugged. “There was an owl who explained to me that their father never had the chance to name them. He is a mariner and they were born while he was away. Their mother, following custom, waited for her husband’s return.”

“I love your bedtime stories,” mumbled Maglor, eyelids drooping. “You always told better stories than father did.”

“This is not a story,” replied Maedhros quite seriously, but Maglor only smiled and nodded. “Whether you believe me or not, the fact remains that we have no idea what their names are. If they even had names. It certainly seems as if they do not.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So help me, Maglor, do not fall asleep on me.” It was common knowledge to those who knew Maedhros that when something was bothering him he would be unable to sleep until the matter was attended to. Maglor, on the other hand, often took his worries to bed and worked them out in his dreams. Maedhros reached over and dared to shake his younger brother’s shoulder gently. Neither of the elflings woke, but Maglor blinked and refocused on Maedhros. “We need to name them.”

“I concur.”

“What should we name them?”

“You want to do this now? My foot fell asleep. How am I supposed to concentrate with my foot all tingly?”

“If we do not think of a name for each of them soon, they are going to believe that their name is ‘pennyth’.”

“What is so wrong with that?”

“Besides the obvious? They need separate names,” argued Maedhros.

Maglor frowned. “Ambarussa both had the same name.”

“Do you remember how confusing that was?” Maedhros sighed. “I miss them.”

He had to strain a little to reach, but Maglor managed to take hold of his brother’s hand and squeeze it. It gave them both a little comfort, a little connection to what they had lost. “I miss them, too. Even Celegorm.”

“Even Celegorm? I would have said, even Curufin.” There was a pause as they each privately reminisced for a while. When one of the twins, the older one they assumed, rolled over and sleepily crawled into Maedhros’ lap, he said, “We really do need names for them.”

“Are we sure they have no family?”

“In some disconnected, roundabout way, I think we are the only family they have right now,” said Maedhros. “All you have to do is look at them to know they are of Finwe’s line.”

“We could name them after grandfather,” suggested Maglor.

“That might be too bold.”

Maglor gently laughed. “We should talk.”

“It would be too telling. It might not be a good idea to reveal that; especially not with Morgoth and his enemies around,” said Maedhros softly. He seemed to ponder another thought, and Maglor waited for him to share whatever idea he had once it was fully formed. “Perhaps we can redeem ourselves and the actions of our brother a little.”

“How so?” wondered Maglor.

“Perhaps we can honor their uncles, the ones we could not save,” Maedhros said. “Do you remember what they were called?”

“Eluréd and Elurín,” Maglor recalled. “But those names are just as telling as naming them after grandfather would be.”

“I mean only to borrow a part of them, not the whole.” Maedhros looked at the elfling that was curled up in his lap. “I wonder what their father would have named them.”

“You said their father was a mariner? I think Elros might be a nice name for one of them,” said Maglor.

Maedhros nodded with approval. “I like that.” He looked between the two and said, “Is this the older one? We should name him first.”

“Yes, I think he is the elder of the two.” Maglor concentrated on the elfling sleeping beside him. “This one is so calm and patient… we could name him Elsed.”

“Blech.”

“I take it you are not as impressed with my second try.”

“Elros is good. Elsed… that is just daring the child to be a cause of trouble,” warned Maedhros. “What about Elrond?”

“Elrond… elf of the cave? Why would you call the child that?” wondered Maglor.

“No, no, not cave elf… Elrond, like, star dome… like the heavens. With all of the stars.” Maedhros stared back at the odd look his brother was giving him. “What?”

“What sort of translations are you using?”

“Fine, then you come up with a better one,” insisted Maedhros.

Maglor, not being one to argue, but absolutely being one to like getting a good night of rest when he could, shook his head. “Elrond is fine. It seems a little much for such a little one.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Maedhros as he lifted up the newly named Elros and resituated him next to his brother again.

“It seems like the sort of name one has to grow into.”

“I suppose,” said Maedhros. “But at least now they have names and are no longer mysteries.”

“An enigma they will remain, Maitimo, the difference is now we know what to call the little mysteries we have.”

“I already told you, the owl said… oh, never mind.” Maedhros smirked and shook his head, and made himself comfortable for the rest of the night watch, while Maglor, Elros, and Elrond slept under the watchful stars.