Title: Albatross
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Rating: K
Length: 511 words
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: N/A
Summary: Círdan has taken in Gil-galad, and must teach him what he cannot do while living there. Not killing the albatross is among the first lessons.



“You mustn’t kill the albatross, my boy,” Círdan spoke softly, crouching down so that he was Gil-galad’s height.

“Why not, my lord?” The boy spoke softly, so as to not startle the bird, but with a bite behind it. It was clear from both his bearing and his actions that he was, as Celeborn had said, one of the Noldor, regardless that his father had only been part Noldor and his mother not one at all.

“The sailors and the rest of my people consider it to bring bad luck to kill one of them,” Círdan replied.

“Why? That is naught but superstition. Why not kill it, so that we may have different meat with supper tonight, and not just more fish?” Gil-galad kept the bow clutched in his hand, ready to shoot if given permission.

“Too many of our people have died. They believe that the souls of those who refuse to depart these lands for the Halls live on as those birds. If you shoot one, it is like killing kin for the second time.” Círdan didn’t look at Gil-galad as he spoke, instead focusing on tying the rope tighter.

“You mean it would be seen as another kinslaying by the Noldor.” Gil-galad’s face didn’t change as he spoke.

“Well, yes.” There was no way to deny it. For all that his people were some of the most accepting of those who had remained behind – certainly better than if Gil-galad had been sent to live with Oropher and his – they were still different from the Noldor, and had ties much closer to Thingol’s people.

“Your people dislike having me here, my lord,” Gil-galad said.

Círdan was suddenly reminded that Gil-galad was just a boy compared to him, who had been forced from his family for protection and now lived apart from his people for the whims of Noldor succession. It may be for the best to ensure that one of Finwë’s line lived to hold the throne, but he was reminded of the whispers that the Noldor cared more for blood in their kings than the bonds of family.

Gil-galad glanced at him and shrugged. “I will not kill any albatross. The Noldor have caused your people too much harm and pain for me to add to that merely for sport and a bit of variety. I wish them to think well of me.”

“That is kind of you, Gil-galad. I shall try and see that the kitchen serves more variety in meals, so that you do not grow bored of what we have here.”

Gil-galad nodded his head in thanks, reminding Círdan of Finwë himself, centuries before.

He was reminded of what Celeborn had wrote in his last letter. Gil-galad was still a future king, and that Orodreth was smart enough to see this arrangement not only as keeping his son safe, but as ensuring his son managed to start bridging the divide before becoming king.

He wasn’t sure if he should teach Gil-galad of the futility of trying to bring the Sindar and Noldor together, or not.