Snow Bears

by Narya (Narya_Flame), Narya_Flame

Summary:

A hunting trip in the mountains goes awry, and Celegorm finds himself responsible for a trio of bear cubs.

Notes:

• For amyfortuna (elwinfortuna).
• Translation into Русский available: Снежные медведи by Greykite

Chapter 1

Blood matted the fur around the she-bear's wound. Her breath clouded in the air, puffing and curling, and her eyes were sharp with fear.

Easy, beauty. Celegorm approached from the front, slowly, keeping his weight on his good leg. His blood sang with the shock of the attack; his limbs shook, and he swallowed, knowing too well what those claws and teeth could do. Easy, now. Forgive me.

The she-bear snarled and lunged. Celegorm sprang back, hissing at the jolt to his ribs – but the bear staggered and collapsed in the snow. It was powder-dry, a fine silver dust that billowed upwards before settling on her coat like frost. A deep whine mingled with her warning growl as he tried to advance again.

I mean you no harm.

The hush of winter hung thick on the woods. The emptiness of the sleeping world was startling – and as intoxicating as strong iced wine. He ought to have been more careful; he knew that bears denned in this part of the mountain, and that mothers would rush to defend their cubs against any perceived threat. He'd been lucky to escape with a twisted ankle and a bruising – but the bear had not been so fortunate. His spear shaft was buried deep in her side, thrust there in a desperate act of self-preservation. It had saved his life, and likely cost the bear hers.

He reached out gently with his mind, seeking her soul. There – warmth and hunger, the prickle of pine, the splash of a river in spring – and it was fading. Ai, beauty. Forgive me.

He crept closer again, and this time the bear made no protest.

Celegorm sat with her as the sun set. He made no move to extract the shaft; it would only cause her more pain, and there was nothing to be done but wait. He caught the rank scent of raw meat on her breath, felt its warmth on his skin in steady whuffs like Huan's, watched her thick fur ruffle as her sides heaved. It was not the first time he'd watched an animal die, nor the first time he'd killed one in combat, but shame slunk through him like a tree-shadow. Somewhere in a den further up the mountain, a litter of bear cubs would be crying for their mother, and for food that now would never come.

The sky darkened to violet, and the stars gleamed sharp as steel when the she-bear breathed her last. Celegorm got to his feet, wincing again at the pain in his chest. His ankle wouldn't take his weight. Hells. He limped over to a fallen tree, and lightly touched his mental link with his brother. Curvo?

Curufin's response was instant. Where are you? What happened?

He opened his eyes to his brother, showing them the scene of his battle with the bear, her bloodied corpse, the indigo twilight and the snow that clung to the pines. I cannot get down. Not tonight and perhaps not for several nights after that.

Curufin swore. Reckless, thoughtless, stupid fool! You were supposed to stay in the foothills. What in the name of Námo's decaying arsehole were you doing up there?

In spite of himself Celegorm smiled. It was a beautiful day. I kept following the mountain higher and higher -

- and got yourself attacked by a bear. His brother's fury was palpable. Are you badly hurt?

No. A sprain and some bruising; I will live.

More urgently, Curufin asked, Can you get to shelter?

I'll have to. He sent a reassuring caress along their bond. Do not worry, my dear. There are plenty of caves up here – or even hollow trees. I will find something.

Curufin, he could tell, was not exactly appeased. Very well. Only promise me that you will not disturb any more bears.

I will try.

He leaned his mind into Curufin's farewell caress, then set his teeth and limped over to the bear's side. He pulled his spear clear before it could freeze into her flesh. The air smelled like metal and ice. More snow was on the way – but before he set out in search of shelter, he rested his brow against the beast's and closed his eyes.

“Rest now, daughter of the mountain,” he whispered.

A breath like starlight rustled the air. Startled, he lifted his head, and found himself looking into the face of a great silver bear. She – for it was certainly a she – was larger by far than the creature he had slain, with a straight, elegant back, and a longer snout than the brown bears of the mountains. Her eyes were like moonstones, her fur like glass spun into silk. Dimly, through her form, he could see the outline of the trees, and she watched him with mild-mannered curiosity.

“What are you?” The apparition did not appear to mean him harm; rather, her presence filled him with a sense of peace, cool and comforting, like ice laid on a bruise.

She smiled.

A thrill chased over Celegorm's skin – how can she smile? What is she? – and then she turned and ambled back towards the mountain pass.

For a few moments he stood staring. The bear-spirit passed through the trees as though they simply weren't there. After a few moments she turned to him, her head on one side, and looked at him. Well, then? she seemed to say.

Using the wooden end of his spear as support, Celegorm limped through the snow after her. He listened carefully, alert for any more signs of mother bears on the rampage, but he neither heard nor felt anything more dangerous than a ptarmigan.

She led him to the mouth of a cave – little more than a crack in the rock face – and abruptly vanished.

I'm seeing things. The pain in his ankle had grown dizzying, and his aching ribs made it hard to draw breath. Still, at least he had found shelter; assuming there was nothing else hiding inside, he would be safe enough for the night. Carefully, he eased himself through the gap, noting with pleasure that it opened out significantly inside. He reached out with his mind to see if there was anything alive lurking in the shadows...

A chorus of wailing snorts echoed from the back of the cave. Celegorm crouched, immediately ready to defend himself – but the snuffling and shuffling didn't sound like a fierce wild beast. As he crept forward and his eyes adjusted, he made out three small, sprawling shapes in a nest of leaf litter on the floor, with snouts like piglets and spiky black fur like the cats that haunted the kitchens in the fortress at Aglon. They had flat paws with curved claws like needles, and round ears folded back against their heads.

Bear cubs. He almost laughed, and thought of the silvery apparition that had shown him the way to the cave. You led me to her cubs...?

He knelt, wrapping his cloak around his hand and feeling each one in turn to get an idea of their size and weight. They couldn't yet be three months old, perhaps developed enough to take some solid food, but not fully weaned – and they would need a meal every few hours.

Celegorm sighed and looked outside. Fat flakes of snow drifted down from the sky. He couldn't hunt in that, not with one leg injured, but he had a couple of rabbits strapped to his pack from earlier that day. They would have to do for now. Perhaps if he chopped the flesh small to form a kind of thick meat porridge, the cubs might take it.

As he set to work skinning them, he reached out to Curufin again.

I'm well, he said quickly, feeling his brother's concern. But I may be up here for some time. He shared an image of the cubs with Curufin. I cannot leave them.

Of course you cannot. Curufin's mental voice was exasperated and amused. Be safe, brother. I will see you when the snows melt.

Chapter 2

The cubs woke him before dawn, squawking and screeching like angry birds. He'd expected that. Any solids they ate should still be supplemented by their mother's milk, which was far higher in fat than the rabbit flesh he'd given them earlier. He wondered whether they were developed enough to take nuts and seeds, as an adult would – though they certainly wouldn't be able to forage for them on their own. Or perhaps when the snow stopped, he could go to the river and fish for them. The fat and oils would keep them full for longer than lean red meat.

Hush, little ones. He nudged gently at their mental borders, soothing, reassuring. He had deliberately not slept close to them; he didn't want them growing too used to his presence. The cubs would need to fend for themselves when he eventually returned to Aglon. They must not become dependent on him.

Later, he was woken again by a shadow at the mouth of the cave. Something waited – and watched. He reached for his knife as the shape loped gracefully into their shelter...

A deep wuff of welcome made him cry out in relief. “Huan?” The hound had left his side early in the trip, as he often did, roaming away on his own to explore the wilderness – but he'd assumed Huan would go back to Aglon. He should know better by now, of course, than to underestimate the loyalty and intelligence of his companion.

Something heavy and feathered and warm dropped into his lap. In the dim light from the cave's mouth, Celegorm made out speckles, wings, a neat little beak. A ptarmigan.

“Huan...” Celegorm wound his fingers into the ruff of thick, wiry fur. “Thank you.”

At the back of the cave, the cubs were stirring again. Huan trotted over, sniffed them once, then curled his great body around them for warmth. Sunlight spilled over the mountains, and Celegorm set to work preparing the bird.

***

In the light of day it was easier to distinguish the cubs. All three were male; the largest had a streak of white from between his ears down to his muzzle, and Celegorm named him Blaze. The next in size had a habit of chewing on his brothers' ears, and was dubbed Biter. The third cub was the smallest by far; the larger two were walking short distances and would happily explore the cave, but the littlest one still wriggled and crawled on his belly. Lacking any better ideas, Celegorm called him Runt.

While the snows lasted, he kept them fed on finely chopped meat mixed with blood and gore. Huan kept them supplied with game, bringing ptarmigans, rabbits, occasionally fish and once a young elk. Celegorm fed the cubs one at a time, watching carefully as they ate the sludgy mixture from his carved wooden bowl. He had seen orphaned puppies die during the attempt to wean them on to solids. Sometimes they would put their muzzles too far into the bowl, inhale the food, and choke - or worse, get it stuck in their lungs, which could easily inflame.

The bear cubs had no such difficulties, though they were messy feeders. They would wrap their paws around the bowl and slurp and snort noisily until the mixture was gone, then look up with delight in their eyes and blood all over their piggy little snouts. Celegorm cleaned them carefully after each feed. He had cut patches out of his spare cloak to make cloths, and would wipe each cub all over, mimicking their dam's tongue.

You make a fine mother, Curufin's distant mental voice teased.

Celegorm reached back across their bond with mingled amusement and annoyance. Their fur is their only means of trapping heat. He was cleaning Biter; mindful of the sharp little teeth, he lifted up a section of the cub's coat to show Curufin the guard hairs and the dense, downy layers underneath. It must be kept spotless.

The cubs grew by the day, though they were rangier than he would have liked – and Runt still would not walk properly. Time and again Celegorm eased the little limbs into the correct position, only for Runt to flatten himself down, legs splayed. Sores developed at his joints where they rubbed against the floor. Celegorm had some ointments and medicaments with him in his pack, and did his best to treat the weeping wounds, knowing that an infection could prove fatal.

His own injuries healed quickly enough. When the snow at the cave's mouth had receded a little, he went out in search of other foods to supplement the cubs' fare. He brought bark for them to chew, grasses and herbs, and bowls of dark, sweet berries, which they gulped down with greedy pleasure.

Will you come home soon? Curufin asked one evening as Celegorm sat under the stars, cooking rabbit over an open fire.

Celegorm did not answer at once. The land was beginning to thaw, and there was a whisper of green in the air. All three cubs were making progress; their ears had unfolded into soft rounds, their yellow eyes had brightened, and they had begun to approach the mouth of the cave – though Runt was still far smaller than his brothers. It made him uneasy. Not yet.

They look stronger.

They are – but they do not have the skills to survive alone.

And can you teach them? His brother's mind-voice held a gentle warning. Your gifts are considerable, Celegorm, but you are not a bear.

I know that. Celegorm poked at the fire; the meat spat fat, and the embers flared. But I have to try.

The next day he left Huan with the cubs, and went searching through the forest for stout fallen branches. He worked through the evening, slotting and strapping the logs together in a sturdy frame. When he had finished it looked much like the ones he had made for his brothers and cousins in the grounds of the summer house, long ago across the sea.

Persuading the cubs to try it was easy enough. He led them to the mouth of the cave the next morning with a trail of berries and chunks of rabbit flesh, then placed the rest of their meal on a flat shelf he'd affixed to the top of the frame. Blaze strolled out without hesitation, Biter not far behind. Runt seemed unsure, but he ambled out into the daylight as soon his brothers set their paws on the frame, unwilling to miss out on whatever was causing their excited squeaks and snorts.

Soon all three were confident climbers. Enticed by the challenge of retrieving food from the top, Runt finally outgrew his crawling, and the sores on his joints sealed over. He was not so fast or athletic as his brothers, but what he lacked in size he made up for in cunning. Often he would leave the other two scrapping over a particular morsel, quietly devouring the rest of the meal himself. Blaze and Biter, meanwhile, took to sitting on the shelf after they'd eaten, swiping and snapping at one another – in play, for now, but Celegorm watched them closely, seeing how their eyes widened and their jaws stretched out, beginning to mimic the very real battles for territory and mating rights that he had witnessed in adult bears.

The days lengthened. The cubs' limbs grew thicker and stronger – even little Runt's. The daylight deepened into a warming gold that clung to the trees; snow slipped from the branches and patched on the ground, and soon it melted away altogether.

Will you come back now? Curufin asked.

Not yet. Not yet.

***

The nights were shorter and warmer. Celegorm and Huan no longer slept in the den, and they lessened their contact with the cubs as much as possible. It was not easy; all three youngsters were boisterous and playful, and loved to clamber and wrestle and chew. Celegorm spoke to them as little as he could, afraid that they would become accustomed to the sound of his voice, and he no longer chopped and prepared the game that he and Huan brought back from the woods.

How will you teach them to hunt? Curufin's voice in his mind was curious.

We will have to rely on instinct there. Celegorm smiled fondly as Biter ripped a strip of meat from the elk corpse he had brought them. Although meat is only a small part of what they need; nuts and berries and insects and fish make up much of their diet.

Blaze gave a disgruntled snort and attempted to pull Biter's morsel out of his mouth; Biter swiped at his brother's nose and galloped away across the clearing, with Blaze giving chase. Runt, nonplussed, buried his muzzle in the elk's side and chomped through the choicest portions as the others squabbled.

I like this one, Curufin laughed.

Celegorm's smile faded, wondering what would become of the smallest bear cub when he eventually left their mountain den. So do I.

Spring stretched languorously into summer. Celegorm shed his winter gear, changing it for the lighter clothes he had brought with him as spares. The cubs outgrew their climbing frame, and Celegorm began tying some of their food to branches high up in the trees.

Please be careful, Curufin entreated. If you fall and injure yourself, and have to spend another winter up there...

I will not, brother, I promise you. Pride spread warmly through Celegorm as Biter and Blaze shinned up the trunk, racing each other to the glistening salmon he had tied near the top.

Runt, though, struggled to keep a grip on the tree. He climbed up a little way, less gracefully than his brothers, then paused, looked down, and slid back to the ground with a puzzled wail.

But climbing was not the only skill the cubs would need to survive. Before the cold came again, they had to learn to forage, and grub, and fish, and swim.

The first was easy. There was plenty of fruit to be had now; Celegorm dug patches of earth around the den and buried chunks for the bears to find. After a time he tried it with less strongly scented foods, like acorns, which thwarted Biter and Blaze; they wandered around the clearing, grumbling and whimpering, hungry and not entirely sure how to resolve their problem. Runt, though, set to the task with enthusiasm, joy lighting his face as he burrowed gleefully after the acorns – and when his brothers saw his success they quickly followed his example.

Grubbing, too, was simple enough. Celegorm found old, rotting logs and rubbed them with fish guts, holding his breath as he did so – the smell was foul, but to the bear cubs it was nectar. Ecstatic, they ripped the logs to shreds and licked up the insects inside. Celegorm marvelled at the power in their claws now, and for the first time, he felt a touch of the same deference towards his charges that he had felt for their mother as she lay dying on the mountainside, all those months ago.

The cubs were less successful at learning to fish and swim. Huan herded them down the mountain to the river where he and Celegorm had caught salmon and trout and crayfish to take back to the den. Celegorm tried enticing the bears into the water by flinging scraps of meat and fruit out for them to retrieve – but the cubs showed no interest in swimming, preferring to splash about in the shallows and roll on their backs in the mud. Blaze picked up a piece of driftwood in his front paws, raised it to his mouth, and yelped as he missed and jabbed himself in the eye.

Fearsome beasts indeed, chuckled Curufin.

Celegorm sighed. I will not give up.

He persevered with the swimming lessons, and meanwhile still brought the cubs game and fish – though they were roaming further from the den now, finding their own fruit and roots and nuts, and occasionally more. Blaze came back more than once licking his chops and with a very smug look on his face. Celegorm worried that the cubs would get lost, or fall victim to wolves or other bears, though he had heard little to alarm him during the nights spent outside with Huan. Besides, this was as it must be. They had to find their own way.

He was stringing up a skinned rabbit one evening when Runt strolled back into the clearing near their den. Neither Biter nor Blaze had returned yet. Runt paused under the tree, staring intently up at the bloodied corpse – and then without warning he sprang at the trunk and shinned up as fast as either of his brothers ever had. Celegorm held his breath as Runt's jaws snapped at the rabbit, barely an arm's length from his own face.

With a snarl of triumph, the cub tore his prize free. He looked into Celegorm's eyes for a long, silent moment – and then he turned and shimmied back down the trunk, and retreated to the den to consume his meal.

Chapter 3

The solstice passed. The evening light reddened and cooled. Celegorm and Huan now slept some distance from the den, in a small cave further down the mountainside. They watched the cubs when they could – but the brothers were testing the boundaries of their territory more and more each day, and sometimes several nights would pass without a single sign of their presence.

Celegorm woke one evening to a rustling at the mouth of the cave. Huan, unafraid, padded forward; Celegorm reached for his knife and followed, noting the smoked taste of early autumn in the air.

Outside the cave, the bear-spirit waited.

“What are you?” he asked her aloud.

I am.

Doubt and awe prickled under his skin. She flicked one of her ears as though dismissing a fly. You are not dreaming, Celegorm son of Fëanor.

The sound of her voice was like silver. Beside him, Huan bowed, and Celegorm followed suit.

She smiled, as she had done once before, and tilted her head – an invitation, not a command.

Celegorm followed her through the trees, Huan trotting at his side. The leaves had begun to fall; frost laced the forest carpet and glittered under the stars. She led him down to the river, and she paused on a lip of land that overlooked the gully. Celegorm and Huan had spent many long afternoons here through the summer, watching the bear cubs splash and play in the mud.

Look.

Celegorm crept forward. On the bank below them, three half-grown bears emerged from the undergrowth. His heart bounded at the sight of them. Even little Runt was now strong and well-muscled, and they moved with an effortless economy, as though they owned the earth beneath their paws. They snuffed the air, and batted at the water like kittens chasing a patch of light – and then, one after the other, they plunged in and swam.

They did it. Celegorm grinned. They learned. They taught themselves.

He couldn't help himself; as the cubs clambered out on the opposite bank, he gave a whoop of delighted triumph.

All three brothers paused and turned. After a moment, Biter and Blaze flicked their ears and bounded into the trees. Runt, though, lifted himself onto his hind legs, and stared at Celegorm and Huan. A salute. A farewell.

“Go,” Celegorm whispered. “Be brave. Be safe.”

Almost dog-like, Runt gave a yip, then dropped to all fours and followed the others.

Celegorm sighed and looked up. The bear-spirit had gone, and the stars were sharp and bright in the sky. Curvo?

Despite the hour, Curufin's response was instant and warm. I am here.

Good. Celegorm slid into the mental embrace. Bank the fires and ready my room – oh, and have a bath prepared, if you would be so kind.

You are coming home, then?

Celegorm took a last long look at the trees across the river – but there was nothing now to mark the passage of the three young bears. And that was as it should be.

Yes. He patted his thigh, calling Huan to heel. I am.

Notes:

Celegorm's bear-raising tactics are drawn in large part from the documentary 'Grizzly Bear Cubs and Me'. If you haven't seen it, I thoroughly recommend it.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 22 of Nárë a Lindalë
• Part 5 of Silver and Gold
• Part 2 of Sing We Now of Christmas