Chapter Nineteen: Tyelkormo. Part Two.


I wasn't going to write an actual blog comment, just stick to the stories, but I feel a comment on the weather just has to be made! This week it has been hot! Not just warm, but very hot indeed! Not at all 'normal' for rainy old England! Now I like the summer! I was a summer baby, and yes, I had a great birthday this weekend, with my husband taking me round all the places we used to visit when we first went out, and dinner at the (much changed, and for the better), restaurant we first went to. ...but back to the summer, ah yes! Strawberries and cream, and Pimms and champagne... (only a little! I hardly drink!) ..and heat stroke!

It has been too hot to 'do' anything. All we have wanted is to stand in an icy shower. Too hot to work, to write, to eat, to sleep! And now comes the thunderstorms! Yay! So I am sorry I have not been up to date with the blog (again), or replied to e-mails, PM's and other blogs as quickly as I would wish. I had such good intentions for this summer, and I am getting rather cross with myself for not sticking to plan.

..but we have holidays booked, and one, at least, in a 'cold' place! :) I think I need to get myself a laptop, and then go sit up a mountain, or by the sea, and write! ;)



Chapter Nineteen: Tyelkormo. Part Two.




(Disclaimer: I am writing in the world created by JRR Tolkien and using characters, scenarios and timelines created by him. I own nothing except the mistakes and a few, easily identifiable, secondary characters. References are from The Silmarillion and HoME 1, 10 and 12)



“He (Huan) brought her to Celegorm, and Lúthien, learning that he was a prince of the Noldor and a foe of Morgoth, was glad; and she declared herself, casting aside her cloak. So great was her sudden beauty revealed beneath the sun that Celegorm became enamoured of her; but he spoke her fair, and promised that she would find help in her need, if she returned with him now to Nargothrond.”


(Of Beren and Lúthien. The Silmarillion J R. R. Tolkien. Ed. C. Tolkien.)



The house of Curufinwë Fëanáro. Tirion. Seventh Age.


The years in which Maitimo* and Makalaurë* grew to maturity were particularly good ones, so I consider, as I, again, put pen to paper. For, once freed of the need to nurture Makalaurë as a young babe, did we spend much of the next twenty years*, wandering Aman, mostly as a family. At times would Fëanáro ride forth from Tirion alone, or with just our sons for company, and I would remain in the city, and continue with my work in sculpting, or I would spend time with my parents and friends. On occasions did our sons explore of their own will, and my husband and I would continue in our pursuit of learning, and of practicing and polishing our skills of hand. As from the beginning, were we guests in Aulë’s halls, for that Vala sought ever more to encourage Fëanáro, in whom, of all other beings in Aman, he perceived the ability and potential to sub-create nearest to his own. And do I not ponder that Aulë’s great love of my husband was in no way surprising. Alone of all the Valar was Aulë filled with a longing to create, (unless one wishes to consider Moringotho!). Was it not recorded that he so spoke even to his creator:

“.. the making of things is in my heart from my own making by thee..” [1]


Did he not so think it was that way with my husband? At the beginning, aye, mayhap it was! For Fëanáro had an absolute joy in creating, and saw such as neither hardship nor as taxing, save on those most rare occasions when he took longer to complete his work than he had first planned.

Never did Fëanáro ask directly for Aulë’s help! Indeed, never did he ask help or advice in crafting from any, save in small measure from me. But that did not mean that advice was not offered; and from my father, as well as the Vala and some of his people. And Fëanáro observed most closely all that he was shown, and sought to use all the skills he learnt, and to perfect them, even beyond that of his teachers. The fire that was within him sought ever to burn brightly, that he in truth, lived up to Míriel’s name of insight.


Now the gems that my husband had developed at the time of Maitimo’s birth were still not in form as he had envisaged them in mind. Though we used them in our travels to those regions where the light of the Trees was but dim, did he as yet withhold their gifting from the Teleri.

“I will only gift to King Olwë and his people that with which I am well pleased. I would not have that king, and friend of my father’s, look with anything other than the highest honour upon a gift from the House of Finwë.”

So he had worked further, for it was his intent to make gems even as Aulë had so made. And those gems did he wish and purpose to be made brighter than anything dug from the Earth. I had spoken with him of my crafting of Laicasar, which he most times wore about his neck. But by then had he long since mastered my simple art of pouring my heart into my works through song. Fëanáro had been intrigued for a time by my use of the phosphor-glow of the pearl, though Aulë had it been who had set the gleam into Laicasar, and so did my husband speak with the Vala much of that particular endeavour.

Fëanáro worked on a few occasions with me, and sometimes with Aulë or my father, but mostly did he work alone. Ever active was he, with a driven dynamism to develop further beauty and to master whatever challenge he could contrive. And he was happy! In those years do I believe he was truly happy.


One occasion comes to mind, of when I came upon my lord taking repose in a glade of Yavanna. So rare it was for him to be stilled, that, even after the many years that followed, does it seem most unique. Almost passive, had he, who was ever active, seemed; lost in contemplation, in a search for understanding. He lay upon the flower-strewn grass, arms folded behind his head, and eyes staring up at the gently swaying branches and leaves of the trees, and the light that played therein. Always fascinated by light, was Fëanáro!


I had thought not to disturb his contemplation, but he knew of my nearness, and reached out to me with one hand.

“Nay, do not depart my company, lady. I would that you sat with me a while.”

I had been but wandering in reverie myself, and, as ever in those days, was pleased to be with him. So I had sat upon the ground, spreading the folds of the forest green gown I wore so he could lay his head upon my lap with some comfort. We remained in silent musing for some time, and as he ever watched the light patterns in the canopy of green that was above us, I watched those same patterns making gold and silvered dappled display upon his fair face.

“So much beauty!” he said, at last, and in a voice nigh awed.

I was not vain enough to think he was speaking of me, so I added my thoughts to his comment.

“This land is full of beauty, beloved. Yet is the light of the trees beauty beyond compare. This creation of Yavanna’s is to me even more profound than the lights of Varda. And do I not love to gaze upon them also!”

Tilting back his head, he looked into my eyes. A searching look it was, and one I was used to without any demurring, or holding back of myself.

“Truly do you speak, dear one. The light is beyond all, and to live in it is joy and delight beyond all.” Then in fëa he added, ‘And do I not see some of that same light reflected in your heart, that I delight in you also!’

At those words I had demurred, and felt the lightest flush of rose hue touch my cheeks. Of course, though his words were spoken in affection, yet had they been meant to produce the effect they had; so he smiled with satisfaction, and returned to his pondering.

For my part, my thoughts were on the joy he brought to me, and on those times we had paid visit to Ezellohar, and gazed more directly upon the trees themselves. And I thought upon what it must be like to live without the light, to live under starlight alone, not as the Teleri did, (for they were most free to wander through the Calacirya), but as my parents, as Fëanáro’s parents had done.

“Busy have I been of late in thought and in deed,” he spoke again, after much further passing of time. “Yet now that I rest, do strange ideas come to my mind.”

“Speak on, if thou wilt, beloved.” A ripe apple had fallen from a tree close to us, and rolled in our direction, almost as a gift from Kementári herself. I had taken up the fruit to share with my husband.

But for that moment he took not my offering, for his right hand was raised, fingers spread, as if the light he was so absorbed in watching was a tangible, living thing, a thing he could physically touch.

So I let him be. Then again did he speak. “Beauty beyond anything else we could conceive, the light shines forth and draws us to itself, so that we are no longer free, but bound to seek of it! I would have knowledge of all its forms and properties. I would seek to sharpen my skills, that I may create beauty in its likeness, that I can make gems that add to the light and glory of Arda, even as has Aulë.”

What could I say to him? I knew not then where his love of light would lead, but saw only his desire to add to the light, and that thought, though strange, I saw not as anything to concern me. Then he took up my hand, his thoughts moving more swiftly again.

“Much is there to delight me, and that in my life already. For are we not fast bound in companionship and love, thou and I, and our sons are noble and strong, and each most skilled in different manners. And do I not have my father’s love, and the freedom to work at will on my heart’s desires. Yet there is this that comes to my mind!”

He pointed up at the green canopy above our heads, and I raised my eyes to follow the direction he gave.

“One tree is this, but with many branches that reach out for light, and room for growth. It is in my thoughts that our sons, and their children’s children also will be like the branches, and they will need room to grow in order to become what they should be.”

“Is there not room enough in Aman for all this growth, Finwion? The Valar would not have brought us hence to limit us! Wide indeed are their lands, and there is still much of the Blessed Realm that has not been seen by any of our folk.” I made to stroke back his silken hair, but he moved suddenly from that comfortable position, and sat upright, taking hold of both my hands and willing me his view on this matter.

“Yet are we, for the most part, confined to the narrowest of lands, and that by the coast and in the Calacirya. Now, we have two sons, thou and I, and in time mayhap more children will be added unto us; and that without future descendents. Our sons are princes of the Noldor, and should they be but idle, and restrained, or should they not have places, nay, lands of their own to order through the coming ages? And what then when my half-brother finally weds, and he has children, mayhap sons also? What then for the princes of the Noldor?”

He pointed up again at the tree. “Without room to breath, to reach out, will our sons become stifled, and I also, mayhap, in time! Nay, lady, I do wonder if Tirion, if these lands upon the coast of Valinor, will be enough for the sons of the house of Finwë as the ages progress?”

His words made me think, for they were serious to contemplate and there was much wisdom in them. I thought then on many generations of descendents of Finwë, all proud, all clever and strong, all with an intensity and passion for life, and all here in this land of Valinor! All in Tirion! Not as the calm sons of Olwë or of Ingwë were the sons of Finwë.


“I understand your point, my lord, though I think not at this time on Maitimo or Makalaurë wishing to govern lands of their own. Neither do I know that it is by the wish of the Valar that we live only in one small part of their Realm. Mayhap we should talk of this with Aulë, for surely the Valar are aware of the nature of our people, and will make provision if such becomes necessary? Mayhap it is their intention for us to found further cities; further realms?” I had suggested.

But Fëanáro smiled. “I shall ponder this, and over more time.” So did he lie back again, and rest his head upon my lap, and partake willingly of the fruit I offered him. That strange mood of contemplation returned, and we remained for some time, silent for the most part, save for the lightest touch of fëa, together amidst the beauty and creativity, amidst the magnificent works of Yavanna.


****


I thought again briefly on my husband’s words when Nolofinwë* wed the sublimely beautiful, and elegant Anarië in 1226, for was that not potentially another occasion for strife within our family? Yet did Fëanáro, now with our two sons often at his side, behave with great dignity. He had no wish to slight his father, and would do that which was necessary to maintain Finwë’s honour, and his own, however much he may have wished his half-brother was elsewhere. For his part, Nolofinwë long continued to treat his elder brother with openness, and a willingness to form a closer relationship. In some ways do I think he had great admiration for Fëanáro at that time. But, although civil, their relationship was never to become one of warmth.

Now did Indis earlier give birth to a daughter, in the year 1215, to she whom Finwë named Írime, and Indis herself called Lalwendë, or Lalwen. This daughter was also dark of hair, though of a deep rich brown, and was happy and full of mirth, as was, most often, her mother. Rightly named was Lalwen, and from the time she could first walk, and so follow him, was she most devoted to her brother, Nolofinwë. Yet another daughter it was, and again had Fëanáro been but mildly concerned, if concerned at all. But then, in 1230, Indis gave birth to her second, and last, son. This golden-haired child did King Finwë also name Finwë, again, much to my husband’s chagrin. But had Fëanáro already experienced the angst of a half-brother, and of such naming, and he in no way showed forth any great displeasure, though neither any great love. He acknowledged the younger son of Indis, but his path crossed that of he who would be named Arafinwë even more rarely than it did of Nolofinwë.


So it came to pass that Fëanáro began to talk of that third child we had planned, for he also desired that we brought forth more children. Not as easy to conceive was our third son, and a reminder to us both it was that a child is truly a gift of Eru, rather than just an act of the will. Fëanáro was, as ever, impatient that there was a delay to his wishes fulfilment, though was I not overly perturbed, knowing some couples that had waited several years for such wishes to be granted. We again busied ourselves with the pursuit of knowledge and of craft, and sought to add to those of our household. Lelyar, that explorer of the southern coast, became steward of our house, to act for Fëanáro in the manner Silwë acted for Finwë. A good deal of trust and shared interests there were between my husband and his steward though was Lelyar ever mindful, and ever proud that he served a prince. His wife, Meldawen, joined Arnónë and those others of my ladies, and she took up the overseeing of the gardens, though her chief skill was that of a poet.


Strangely enough, was Tyelkormo to be conceived during a visit to the halls of Oromë! Strange, I say, because at that particular time we visited more rarely with that Vala. Maitimo and Makalaurë had ridden to visit with friends whose father had an estate to the north of the Calacirya, in that most beautiful of lands, and Fëanáro and I had headed further south to the lands of the Lord of the forests. Most welcome were we made by the Vala’s folk, who sought to show us the greatest hospitality. Now the halls of Oromë, though given to skill in hunting, in the training for pursuit of fell creatures, were also given over to much and boisterous celebration and mirth.

“I should have thought the halls of Oromë too boisterous for the likes of a lady. And his wine too rich and potent!” had Fëanáro said to me, in baiting manner, upon one of our earliest encounters. But we had travelled to that place together, nonetheless. Neither did I hesitate to accompany my husband on that occasion, lady though I certainly was.

And upon our return to Tirion, and our meeting again with our sons, was there not much joy? Though neither Maitimo nor Makalaurë had, as then, sought betrothal, let alone wed, they looked forward most eagerly to a child being added to our house. Do not the Eldar love children? Did not Makalaurë, in particular, always have the greatest love and understanding of the very young?


****


Early in 1232 was Tyelkormo born. Tyelkormo the fair, Tyelkormo the hunter! A force to be reckoned with was our strong-willed third son! Now was this son more like Fëanáro in mood and in expression, and little did I bequeath him, though he had hair of a quality like mine, and of a very light brown. Lighter even than the colour of my mother’s hair was Tyelkormo’s. I named him thus and very early on, for he was ever hasty to rise from sleep, hasty to be fed, and hasty to make his will known. Hasty in temper too, did he become at times, as he grew older. Fëanáro named him Turkafinwë, for he was from the start, most powerful in body, though he was to be shorter in height than his brothers. Much passion and fire did he inherit from his father, and the ability to speak as eloquently, as potently as Fëanáro, when he wished. He had other skills in language, also: but not in the same area as his sire. Born to command, was Tyelkormo, even as Maitimo was, and in his youth was there some rivalry between those two of our sons. For, of all of our children, was Tyelkormo the most ambitious.

Always do I think of Tyelkormo with great love, and great sorrow. I think on that occasion he came to my aid, but also on those tales told to me, of how, in the Hither Lands, he became enamoured of the daughter of the Maia Melian and of Elwë. That he was awed by the beauty of Lúthien, attracted by her inherent light, I can understand, for, ever was Tyelkormo attracted by such things, more so than any of the others. But this I do not understand, I will not understand: that he took her captive through deceptive words of promised aid, and would have wed her by force. That in so doing, he sought power from an equally forced allegiance with her father; I cannot understand this, so different is it to all that it means to be Eldar! And that Curvo aided him, and, indeed, later sought to slay Lúthien out of malice! Alas, that such should happen, that so very far from valour and nobility did they fall before their end. Ai, my sons! When you forsook Valinor and headed back, towards the lands that had never known the full light, did you not also step into darkness of fëa?


Yet do I wonder what was in Tyelkormo’s mind at that time, for in some manner do his actions resonate with his father’s behaviour. Fëanáro longed for the light; to it did his heart become fast bound, that he would posses it’s beauty for himself. Even that ill-conceived act of begging Arafinwë’s* daughter thrice for a tress of her hair, was it not motivated, in part, by his desire to possess the beauty of light? Of that incident was Moringotho to make much, and many lies were spread forth. Though I knew well my husband, and understood his way of thinking, yet was his folly to cause me some grief, and of it will I write in more detail in due course.



The differences in their ages meant that Maitimo and Makalaurë, though young, were both potentially old enough to be Tyelkormo’s father. As a babe, he was spoilt by attention from all four of us, and he soon learnt that Makalaurë was particularly good to be with. So good with children, in fact, was Makalaurë, that Maitimo called him ‘Little Mother’ once. Only once it was! As I have earlier made mention, Makalaurë was not of the soft nature he is sometimes portrayed!


I recall the first time Tyelkormo was taken ridding, and I saw Makalaurë, with his younger brother strapped to his back, as one would attach a quiver, galloping off at speed into the Calacirya. Fearless though the Noldor are, yet was I, as a mother, most perturbed at the sight. My second son had later apologised to me for causing concern, but as Tyelkormo had done naught but howl with glee as they had ridden, did he seek to take his brother on rides more often. Indeed, had Fëanáro and I not travelled with our elder sons in such a manner when they were babes, but never in such haste. It would seem from that experience onwards, our third son had a great love of horses, and later of hounds and the chase. Of that first meeting of his with the Vala Oromë, of he who gave to our son the wolfhound, Huan, will I now write. For Oromë did much to shape the courses of Tyelkormo.


Now was Tyelkormo but a little over a year old, and we were all guests in the halls of Aulë. Maitimo, who was by then twenty-three, had been taking instruction in copper-work from my father, and was beginning to consider a commitment to Aulë himself. Yet was Fëanáro not entirely happy with this, though he explained not his reasons to us at the time. I had thought that my husband considered being the ‘Third Finwë’, as honour and duty enough for our eldest son, and in this assumption mayhap was I right? My husband was then more interested in improving his own skills in the making of glass, for although he had mastered the art to a high degree, yet was he not satisfied. Makalaurë had begun to take an interest in the carving and shaping of wood, and not just for the making of instruments for music. A highly ornate table was he working upon, one that bore depictions of all sorts of musicians and bards as if springing from one, central song, and that table was to be for our use and delight. So were all three neri of my family well occupied. I had also wished to talk with Aulë, of some new ideas I was considering for sculpting, but Tyelkormo was restless in body, and such a mood was always best resolved for him by riding. So did we leave, even the wonders of Valmar, my third son and I!

I had no wish to disturb Fëanáro with our departure, and had reached out to him but briefly in fëa. One of those times it had been when my husband was so engrossed in what he was about, that he barely heeded me. Not that he would have been concerned, for he trusted me implicitly, and no real danger was there that would befall either our son or I. So we rode south; Tyelkormo upon a golden horse that he seemed to have befriended, and I, as usual, upon the dapple-grey. From the woods surrounding Aulë’s halls we travelled, and across the shimmering plains of Valinor circling round the city of the Valar. Then, as the fields of Yavanna came into view, did we turn east, and head for the woods of Oromë.


Now did I consider that as the Vala, in whose halls Tyelkormo had come into being, loved riding, loved to be out and free upon the land and in the forests, mayhap my son would find more affinity with him than he did with Aulë? And also was I proud of my son, and wished others to know that fact. Although Tyelkormo had not, as then, shown forth any great skills, yet could he ride almost as well as a full-grown nér. At a swift pace did we travel, and more animated and talkative did my light-haired son become as we headed east. He knew well of the lands he had not yet visited, and from study of writings and discussions with the rest of the family. Most pleasantly surprised was I, as he pointed out places of interest, and animals and birds, well concealed, yet visible to him.

“How is that you know so much of the nature of animals, my son?”

He smiled in a self-satisfied manner. “ I have studied the books in the scriptorium, and watched my brothers. Also have I watched you with horses, mother. But mostly have I watched the animals, themselves, when given a chance.”

Well indeed did we converse, each with the other, now that Tyelkormo and I realised a shared interest. I, too, loved to ride and in the woodlands, though not in the hunt, and a new respect do I think my son found for his mother, and an ally in adventure. We made game of being the first to notice an animal or bird, or to give name to the maker of a sound or song. Many a deer did we sight within the sheltered glades, and a few boar, and on the distant edge of the forest did we think to see a heard of bison. But as we drew near to that place wherein Oromë’s halls lay, was there a sudden stillness, a silence, that was pierced, as if by a lightening stroke from a sea storm, and a sound unlike anything else I had ever heard, most certainly unlike anything Tyelkormo had ever heard, rang out!

Our horses danced nervously, their eyes widening in anticipation, but not in any terror. For never did Oromë fare to hunting in these lands, but only ever to the training of his folk and beasts for the pursuit of evil creatures within the Hither Lands. Then did other, lesser horns add their cry to that of the Valaróma*, as a host of hunters, clad in browns and greens, and mounted upon black horses, gallop into view, making to pass us on both sides. Hounds there were aplenty, bounding through the undergrowth with lolling tongues and eagerness, and not a few Eldar, many with hawks or other birds of prey upon their wrists. Others also there were, in form like unto us, yet did I know them to be of the Maiar, and those, including Pallando, with whom I had already made an acquaintance. A great and fearsome host they were, and suitably impressed was my son, as he turned his mount in a tight circle to observe them. Most certainly was he impressed when some from that group made to hail me in passing.

“Welcome, Lady Nerdanel! Come along with us to the halls,” did one, green garbed, Maia cry to me, “For there shall we be merry, and refreshed from training for the pursuit. There are tales to be told and songs to be sung, and rich and red wine to be drunk.”

Now I was not one to normally drink overmuch, but it must be said that the wine in Oromë’s halls was extraordinarily rich and left one with such a feeling of strength and life and joy, that it was not to be lightly missed. And there was always a goodly spread upon his tables: a veritable feast.

“Come; follow on! For our Lord Oromë does expect you, and with the young prince you and your lord got upon your last visit here.”

I blushed furiously at so open a reference, and in front of that very son. But Tyelkormo was wide eyed in wonder. This was surly a dream come true for him, and he turned on the back of his horse to grin at me in anticipation and partial realisation of the opportunity afforded.

“We shall go, mother?”

“Aye; for it does seem to be the intent of Oromë, as well as in my thoughts. Though think not overmuch on the wine as of yet, young one! More years do you need before you are ready for such heady drink.” I had smiled at my son’s anticipation of much indulgence as I urged my own horse forwards, and Tyelkormo had kept pace with me, now delivering a barrage of questions as to what involvement his brothers had with this Vala; most particularly what involvement Russandol had!

“Maitimo knows Oromë, dear one; of course he does! But he has not frequented his halls at all as of yet.”

Did those words not please Tyelkormo even further? We raced the last distance, from the edge of the woods to the halls, and almost caught up with the group that had passed us by.

Once in the skin strewn, tree-supported halls, had I spoken greetings and thanks to those Maiar who took care for our horses, and were preparing food. A few of the snuffling hounds did I also greet, and they circled around my son and I with much enthusiasm, and much wagging of tails.

“You know their language, mother! You can speak with beasts?” Now was Tyelkormo certainly in great awe of me.

“Nay, my son! I can but give welcome, and a sign of my pleasure to be reacquainted with these creatures. Better do I communicate with horses, though with Oromë’s black steeds mostly. And clearest of all, have I found I might speak with birds; with owls.”

Indeed, had I managed a rather good understanding of an owl upon my last visit, though was this in itself nothing to boast of. Many Eldar could understand animals well, and not a few could in some measure communicate with them.

“But father, he cannot speak with animals or birds? “ Tyelkormo’s gaze narrowed, in a manner that then reminded me very much of Fëanáro, on the edge of a great discovery.

“Your father is interested in all manner of language, but of our own language, and of that of the Valar themselves does he have most interest,” I replied.

“Russandol cannot speak with animals!”

“Nay, and neither can Makalaurë, before you ask. I alone of this family have any skill in that area, much as it may surprise you.”

So in such a way did I come to have my third sons devotion for a time, (though as a child of the Eldar, did he always behave well and need little correction), and for many a year did he come to me to speak of his interest. For he determined then that he would show forth his skills, in part, through learning the tongues of every bird and beast that dwelt in Aman. No mean feat was that to be, and much time did he spend, when older, and in the halls of Oromë, or exploring the remote lands looking for those rarer creatures that lived in the Blessed Realm. And aye, as soon as he could did Tyelkormo partake of the wine!

While on that visit did Oromë and Vána, his spouse, talk with us, and well pleased were they that I had thought to bring this son to them. Almost as if they had been expecting him did it seem to me. In time did I understand more of what they had planned for him, of why they wished him to have those particular skills of hunting, but as with his father, was Tyelkormo to be later ensnared, and led from the path he was destined for.

“Return to my halls, and within three years, and we shall see then what a horseman you have become. If you show enough promise, will I teach you to ride in the hunt myself, and that in the tracking of creatures in this land, and the hunting of those fell creatures that at some future time we may yet encounter.” Oromë had said to Tyelkormo, and, although I marvelled at such words, did I again wonder at the Vala’s near insistence that, at some time, we would encounter fell creatures.

Tyelkormo thought little upon this, for he was happy with the promise he had been given, and a horn also did Oromë gift to him, though nowhere near as grand as those his hunters had used.

“Mayhap father will craft a horn for me to use, and one nearer in temper to the Valaróma, and a spear and a bow also, as are displayed upon the walls and trees?” had he whispered enthusiastically to me, not wishing for Oromë to think he was in any manner displeased with his gift.

For two days did we remain in Oromë’s dwelling, and Tyelkormo was to experience his first feast therein, and his first longing to have a wolfhound of his own. I had left him for a time in the care of the Vala, to walk with the Lady Vána in her gardens, and her peace. And I sat for a while by that golden fountain of the radiance of Laurelin, that Aulë had, long before, set in that place. So were both my son and I renewed in fëa and in joy.


****

In due course we returned to the halls of Aulë. Tyelkormo continued to be excited, nay, passionate about his new ‘friend,’ Oromë!

“Though I mean no disrespect to Lord Aulë, nor to you or grandfather, yet do I think I have chosen the better path. For I shall be taught how to track and lead in the hunt, and Russandol will but learn how to forge in metal.”

“Be not so disparaging of your brother, Tyelkormo! Though he works with Aulë, yet is he also strong of will and of body, and could lead well in any hunt, without instruction. And remember, your father also forges in metal; or are you thinking of yourself as higher than he?” I gently chided this son.

At the mention of his father did Tyelkormo instantly look aghast. Never did any of our sons think of themselves as greater than their sire.

As soon as he had dismounted, did Tyelkormo instantly seek out Fëanáro, to speak with him of what had come to pass; though did I warm him that his father might still be working. Later still, after speaking with Maitimo, did I find father and youngest son, had been spending time together, and were still talking, in the rooms given over for our use. Fëanáro had been trying to get Tyelkormo to take of rest, for our son was very young. It appeared that he had almost succeeded, for Tyelkormo was lying, eyes barely focused, atop the blanket on his allotted bed. So I waited by the arched door for my husband to be finished.

“Remember well what I have said, Turko*.”

“Aye, father! And then I may train for the hunt with Oromë?”

“If you act as I have so bidden.”

“And you will make for me a horn as fine as the Valaróma?”

“I shall craft you a spear; and you should use the horn gifted to you, for a time at least.”

Fëanáro’s eyes met mine, over the sleepy form of our son, and he made to rise silently, and move to my side.

“And I shall talk with the animals, as mother does. I shall have a black horse, and a wolfhound.”

“Rest, Turko!” Fëanáro instructed more firmly, and closed the door behind him as he left the room.

“You converse with animals, Nerdanel?” he turned to face me, and questioned me, though with some amusement.

“You know I can communicate with some birds, and sometimes with horses, my lord!”

He smiled in response. Then he took up my hand, and kissed it in a manner that suggested he was glad of my company.

“So, you have been again to the halls of Oromë!” stated he, in a beguiling manner. “I have missed you these last days, wife!”

I had some doubt of that, for he had, most likely, been immersed in his work. Yet glad, as ever, was I to be reunited with him, and we walked then to the main forge of Aulë. I knew he would want to show me the progress he had made with glassmaking.

“And how, may I ask, have you bidden Tyelkormo to act, that you give him your support in his new found interest, my lord?” It was my turn to question, and I wanted to know what to expect from our son.

“I have told him he has my blessing, and that I will help him. But he is to stop this pointless comparison with Nelyo, and now! I have told him that Nelyafinwë is my eldest son, and as such should command his unswerving loyalty. It is a matter of what is right! Though Turko has great skill, yet he must use it to support his family, and to uphold ever the claims of his grandsire, myself, and of Nelyo.”

“That is a lot for him to understand. He is still young to appreciate the nuances of our family.” I spoke with some concern.

“He understands enough,” Fëanáro replied. “ Though, when he comes to his full strength, he will be of a mood to wish for lands to control and to order as he wills, yet will he always follow Nelyo’s lead in matters of import, even if he wills things otherwise. That is what I expect of him; so will it be done!”

****

I looked for Tyelkormo amongst the crowds. I searched the streets and concourses, but at the last, all I managed was to catch his eye as he, mounted upon his favourite black horse, rode towards the gate, and down the wide stairs, faithful hounds in tow. He inclined his head, and made a sign of blessing, but no words did we speak. None were there, whom he loved greatly, that were not going with him. His father, his brothers, and particularly Curvo would he soon join with. Irissë* also was to go, though with her father’s house, of course.

It was later said to me, and by one of those who had been with my family in exile, that Tavariel had been amongst those slain by Morgoth and Ungoliant; that Tyelkormo had pulled her body from the ruins of the stables, where she had fled to find a horse upon which to escape. I had hardly known her! But I had known that she rode often with my son at Formenos, and that he had become most fond of her. Nay, none then had he left that he greatly loved, for though I loved him well, truly had I said ‘Farewell’ to my third son at the beginning of the first exile. He had never really forgiven me for what he saw as my betrayal of his father.




* All years are Valinorian years.
Tyelkormo = Celegorm. I am sometimes using Turko when Fëanor is talking of him.
Maitimo = Maedhros. Though also I am using ‘Russandol’ often, when his brothers are talking of him, and sometimes ‘Nelyo’ or ‘Nelyafinwë’ when Fëanor is talking of him.
Makalaurë = Maglor
Nolofinwë = Fingolfin
Finwion = ‘son of Finwë’, a childhood name of Fëanor, though Nerdanel uses it at times.
Artanis = Galadriel
Arafinwë = Finarfin
Valaróma = Oromë’s hunting horn
Irissë = Aredhel
[1] Of Aulë and Yavanna. The Silmarillion. J. R. R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien.