Chapter Text
Turgon already regretted persuading Maeglin to come along to one of the parties organised by the other Lords of Gondolin. But what else could he do? His nephew was causing him serious concern. He was completely isolated from the others and had difficulty making friends.
But he wasn't surprised, after all Maeglin was a stranger in a city where everyone seemed to know everyone else, and after what had happened to Aredhel and what Eöl had said before Turgon threw him into the depths, Maeglin naturally found it even harder to make friends.
And that was why Turgon had persuaded him to go.
That the evening would end with Glorfindel telling a funny story in which Aredhel was mentioned in passing, whereupon Maeglin began to cry, for he was very VERY drunk, and threw up all over himself, wasn't something Turgon could have predicted.
Glorfindel had tried to calm him down, but in the end Turgon had decided to take Maeglin, who could barely walk straight anymore, to his room before he attracted the attention of the others and they had one more reason to find him strange. Turgon was just glad that it had been Glorfindel with whom it had happened, because he knew that Glorfindel would only tell others as soon as he knew whether it was really okay for Maeglin. For as much as Turgon appreciated some of the other lords, he knew they probably wouldn't keep their mouths shut.
One of Maeglin's arms hung over Turgon's shoulder, the other just hung there at his side. Maeglin was still crying and his face was an absolute mess of tears, snot and vomit. Turgon knew this was his fault. He should have paid more attention to what Glorfindel, who had immediately started a conversation with Maeglin, was giving him to drink in the first place. He knew, of course, that Glorfindel had only meant well, but that didn't change the fact that Maeglin would certainly be feeling really bad the next day.
"It is all right," Turgons whispered gently, who had never seen his nephew so upset. Maeglin usually hid his feelings very well. The only time he had ever seen him cry was at Aredhel's funeral.
"I miss Nana." Maeglin whispered and sniffled, sounding like a much younger child and not like an elf who was almost grown up.
Turgon sighed heavily. "Me too, my boy, me too."
They had finally arrived at Maeglin's room and Turgon somehow managed to hold Maeglin, push the door handle down with his foot and push the door open. Too bad Idril hadn't seen that, she would have found it amusing.
Turgon helped Maeglin over to his bed and carefully sat him down on the edge. And even though Maeglin should probably take a bath, Turgon was slightly afraid that he might accidentally drown himself in this state if Turgon wasn't looking closely, so he decided not to risk it.
So he took a wet cloth and gently wiped Maeglin's face with it.
"I- I miss- " Maeglin sniffled, and Turgon was actually impressed by how clear his words still sounded, even though he had drunk so much. "I miss Ada too," Maeglin sobbed, and Turgon's hand stopped in mid-motion. "I know I shouldn't miss him, but- " Maeglin's voice died.
Turgon took a deep breath, which he immediately regretted as the acrid smell of vomit rose to his nose, then he continued to clean Maeglin's face.
It reminded him of how young he still was. Turgon had already seen how much it had affected Idril to grow up almost completely without Elenwë, but he didn't want to imagine how bad it was to be in a strange place without any parents at all.
He had never realised that Maeglin missed Eöl too, otherwise he would surely have tried to talk to him about it somehow. To show Maeglin that he was safe with him and could tell him anything.
"He was your father," Turgon said, hoping that Maeglin could understand him. "Of course you miss him, that is quite normal."
Apparently he could still understand him, because he said, "But he was evil."
Turgon's blood froze a little at these words. For sure, Eöl had killed Aredhel and that had indeed been 'evil', but he couldn't shake the feeling that Maeglin wasn't referring to his mother's death.
"I think I just miss having someone." Maeglin continued to murmur, his eyes now half closed. "I miss- miss the idea- " he hiccupped. "The idea of what I- what I wish my father could have been."
Turgon put the now dirty cloth aside and briefly stroked Maeglin's hair gently. That had always helped whenever Elenwë and Idril were sad.
He stood up and walked over to the wardrobe and took out some of Maeglin's sleeping clothes.
"Itarillë is really lucky that you are her father," he whispered weakly.
Turgon came back to him, put the sleeping clothes on the bed next to Maeglin and started to carefully help him out of his top, which was still full of vomit. "Why? Because that makes her the direct princess of Gondolin?"
Maeglin shook his head, but apparently a little too vigorously than he should have, because he squinted his eyes briefly in pain before saying, "She is lucky because you love her. Nana was the only one who loved me." Tears welled up in his eyes again. "And I- I- ot is my fault that she- that she is no longer here!"
Turgon hung the dirty top over a chair in the corner and set about dressing Maeglin in his sleeping top. When he had finished, he pulled him to his feet and changed his trousers. Then he carefully pulled his shoes off his feet.
It had been important for him to make sure Maeglin was comfortable before he took any further steps.
He carefully put an arm around Maeglin and pulled him slightly towards him. "It is not your fault. Her love protected you, she did it willingly."
Maeglin let his head fall weakly against Turgon's shoulder.
"And I love you too, Lómion." Turgon whispered softly and began stroking his back in a circular motion.
The next time he looked at Maeglin, his eyes were closed. Turgon smiled gently. This evening had clearly been too much for his young nephew.
He carefully laid Maeglin down and placed the heavy duvet over him. He pulled it in tight all over so that Maeglin wouldn't kick it off in his sleep and get cold.
Just as Turgon was about to leave, immediately after giving the top full of vomit to a servant to get it cleaned, Maeglin groaned and whispered barely audibly: "I wish you could love me as if you really were my father."
Turgon's hand remained on the door handle for a few moments as he watched Maeglin weep softly and toss and turn in discomfort. Then he sighed, took the chair and pulled it towards Maeglin's bed.
Maeglin's eyes were tightly closed and a few tears were running down his cheeks. Carefully, Turgon reached out and began stroking Maeglin's hair again. He didn't really expect a reaction, so he was surprised when Maeglin relaxed almost immediately and leaned into Turgon's hand.
Turgon leant forward and kissed him gently on the temple. "Do not worry, I will stay here and watch over you, just like your mother cannot anymore and your father never did."