I will come back [Silmarillion]

Title: I will come back
Fandom: The Silmarillion
Character(s): Ereinion Gil-galad, Fingon
Warning: Spoilers for character deaths (and the Battle of Unnumbered Tears...)
Based on: A picture on deviantArt by kittykatkanie titled 'I will come back for you'. It's so cute and sad D:

I looked up at atar, then at the bearded stranger behind me. Then back at atar, who was smiling. He was High King now--his crown did nothing but make him the more beautiful, skin glowing like a pale flame, and stunning midnight black hair. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

"Ereinion," Atar said to me, "for the next few years, Cirdan will look after you. Is that okay?"

I shook my head. No, it wasn't okay at all. Where was atar going? Isn't atar coming to live with us? What about amil? But I didn't say anything. To be completely honest, I didn't want to know.

Atar sighed, and knelt down so that he was my height. "Ereinion," he said again, looking me in the eye, "you are still young. You do not understand. Out there is war, and pain, and suffering. People are dying every day. I do not want you to be one of them."

I shook my head again, vision blurring with tears. "But what about you, atar? Why don't you come with me? I don't want you to die, too."

He smiled at me, but it was a sad smile. "My people need a leader," he said, and I could tell that he was proud to lead the Noldor. "I will guide them. I am High King now, I have a responsibility. So please, Ereinion..." He picked me up and stood up, hugging me. I latched my hands behind his neck. My tears fell, unhindered, as I sobbed into his shoulder.

"Don't leave...atar..."

"I will come back for you, Ereinion."

He set me down and left, just like that.

I never saw atar again, though I still remember what he looks like. How my hand ran through his soft hair. How he outshone even Arien in his brightness. How his eyes glinted with pride, and yet were darkened with sorrow. And those who escaped from the Nírnaeth Arnoediad tell me that he fought proudly, to the end, and enemies fled before him, and none could match his prowess.

And I wept as Cirdan set the crown of the High King on my head.