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"Come on, love. Say Atto!”
“I know you can do it, my Hasty one. Do it for Ammë and Atto.”
The little boy’s blue eyes widened a little and he laughed in a sweet tune.
Makalaurë watched his parents' forms as they tensed up in anticipation. Full of hope his little brother crushed under his chubby, tiny feet.
The boy meowed, and Fëanáro’s shoulders visibly fell as he scowled darkly.
Tyelkormo watched his father's expression darken, and his lips started to wobble. It didn't take him long to start to cry.
Fëanáro’s frown fell just as he picked up the toddler in his arms.
“I'm sorry, sweet boy. I'm sorry. Atto isn't angry with you. Atto is just sad.”
And the words just made the elfling cry harder.
Makalaurë's hold tightened around his lyrë as his parents fussed over the baby. But with a sudden loud sob from his little brother, he found no choice but to cover his sensitive ears.
“What do we do, Náro?”
His father's sigh was so full of frustration, Makalaurë could feel it deep in his heart.
“I wish I knew.”
_________
It all started when Tyelkormo turned one year old, and he still could not talk.
He could walk. By Eru, he could even run faster than Makalaurë and dance gracefully to the tune of his songs, and hum along to the lullabies he or Ammë would sing for him, but no intelligible words would ever leave his mouth.
Instead he barked like Atto's hunting hound or meowed like Ammë's studio cat and ran around with her kittens. He would chirp at the birds singing in the trees, croak at toads or frogs, and communicate with any creature but his own kindred.
It was sweet at first, even impressive at times, to watch such a small child have a connection this deep with the nature his father adored and respected, but once his first begotten day came and passed and he still could not talk, Makalaurë's parents started to get worried.
The court physician, Lady Poica, looked upon his little brother with a frown when she came to visit him in secret due to his parents’ request (for how would his father tolerate the pitying looks of councilors and courtiers alike), but smiled reassuringly at the couple.
“Some elflings just take longer to talk. He is a very fast learner, so his intelligence is not to be questioned. He will speak when it is his time.”
The time had yet to arrive, apparently, for six months later, and Tyelkormo still could not speak.
Makalaurë watched from his place upon the couch as Atto read for little Tyelkormo. The book was a botany textbook which belonged to Ammë, but Tyelkormo had taken one look at it and refused to let it go and by great effort, he had made Atto understand he wished it to be read for him.
The elfling failed simple words, but enjoyed textbooks. Peculiar, Aunt Findis had called him, and even to Makalaurë's young mind, it should not have been mistaken for a compliment.
Yet, he couldn't help but smile as he watched his brother’s huge blue eyes skim over the pages with curiosity. Tyelkormo wasn't retarded or stupid. Whatever it was stopping him from speaking must root from somewhere else.
Lost in his thoughts, Makalaurë almost jumped in his seat when someone entered the room.
A servant wearing grandfather's colors. He frowned. What was the matter?
The young nér bowed deeply at him and his Atto, making him blush. Atto looked up after finishing his sentence, eyebrows raised but eyes gentle. He treated servants better than nobles of his grandfather's court, Haru Mahtan would say with a hearty laugh. It always made his Atto blush and Ammë to smile proudly.
“Yes?”
The boy, who looked calmer, finally spoke.
“I am sorry to interrupt your time with the young princes, Your Majesty, but the High King requests your presence at the palace. An urgent meeting, from what I gathered.”
Atto’s eyes lost their spark, and even though it was not the servant’s fault, Makalaurë couldn't help but feel bitter and frown at him.
Tyelkormo whined, glaring at the messenger and pulling at Atto's sleeve. Atto smiled and kissed his silver hair, and stood up while holding the baby and the book.
“Let me just call their nanny in to look after them. Shouldn't be lon–”
Makalaurë spoke without thinking.
“It's okay, Atto. I can watch Tyelko until it's Ammë's turn. He was happy with the book. I can continue from where you left.”
His Atto’s eyes snapped at him, something else clouding his gentle eyes. He could not quite name it.
“Are you sure, yonya? There are a lot of words here you don't know.”
Makalaurë raised an eyebrow.
“And neither does he. We will be fine, Atto. Don't worry about us. Right, Tyelko?”
Tyelko blinked at him several times, the huge, ocean blue orbs staring at him relentlessly before he smiled, gummy and bright.
Atto laughed and nodded. He walked closer until he could put Tyelkormo on his lap, who hugged him as soon as he was able to, hiding his face from the view of others. Maybe the presence of the servant was making him shy. Or maybe he just wanted a tight hug. He loved those anyway, so Makalaurë complied. He was rewarded with the sound of sweet giggling.
Atto was still smiling when he passed him the book, which was actually lighter than it looked. Maybe he could do this after all.
The messenger bowed respectfully and left, and Atto followed him with a last glance at them. Tyelkormo waved, and Atto was gone, his shoulder less tense than it usually was.
“All right. Where did Atto leave the bookmark?”
But Tyelko wasn't having it. He shoved the book aside, letting it fall on the couch beside them. Then he turned around to look at him and began humming.
Makalaurë frowned.
“You don't want the book anymore?”
Tyelkormo shook his head and continued with his humming, but this time, he pointed at him.
Ah.
“Do you want Káno to sing for you?”
Tyelkormo almost dislocated his neck from how fast he nodded, so Káno held his face in his hands.
“All right! All right! I got it. You're going to hurt your neck this way.”
His answer was an almost cheeky grin.
And so he sang whatever rhymes he knew the little one liked. He would squirm and dance with the happier and more energetic ones, and snuggle in his arms and hum along when the rhythm would get slower.
Until Makalaurë felt his throat become dry. This was his limit, and his teacher had said to never push past his limit or risk losing his voice forever.
“I'm tired, Tyelko. Should we do something else?”
Tyelko raised his head from where he was leaning it against Makalaurë's chest with a thoughtful frown and nodded.
“How about blocks?”
He shook his head.
“Havarcë?”
Negative again.
“Animal kingdom?”
Tyelkormo squealed in happiness, making him grin.
Makalaurë didn't enjoy animal kingdom as much as before because he was older now, but he could still play for his brother's sake. And it was always nice to not have to act his age from time to time, Maitimo would say.
“Okay. You want the wolfies?”
Tyelkormo nodded and accepted the five wolf figurines he passed to him.
Haruni Ortóloriel had made these for him the last time they visited them. The bigger ones, the Ammë and Atto wolves, were auburn and tar in color. Another smaller one with a brighter fur, was the Timo wolf, and the Kano wolf had a cedar colored fur.
The smallest wolf cub was pure silver, the Tyelko wolf.
His little brother started to play, making sounds so accurate one would think they, in fact, had a wolf at home.
Makalaurë had only heard the wolves’ cries from afar when they went for trips in the wild, but Tyelkormo had never been in any of them.
He frowned. This thought had never occurred to him.
How did his brother do this, then?
“Tyelko?”
Tyelkormo stopped abruptly, noticing the seriousness of his tone. He looked up, looking nervous. Makalaurë's heart broke for him.
Does he think I am going to scold him?
“How do you know what wolves sound like? You've never met one.”
Some of the tension left his small body, and his frown turned thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged.
He doesn't know either.
What did it mean?
“But, you are sure this is how they talk with each other. Am I right?”
His answer was a simple nod of his head. He was sure of himself. Curious.
Well, if this was true, then…then had Tyelkormo been trying to speak with them all this time? But in languages he only knew?
Why couldn't he speak Quenya, though?
“Why can't you speak Quenya, then?”
He asked with all the gentleness he could muster, but he could see his brother becoming tenser by second.
“It's all right that you can't, pitya. I'm not blaming you. I just want to know, so I can help you. Do you understand?”
He heard a sniffle, but Tyelkormo nodded.
“So, why do you think you can't speak, Tyelko?”
Tyelko wiped the tearful eyes clean and sat straight. Then, he held his hands around his head like he was trying to wash it, and made a swishing sound while making a big circle around it.
What?
“Your head…is big?”
If babies could look disappointed, then Tyelkormo was one disappointed baby at that moment.
“Your…is it too big? Too much?”
He was looking a little more hopeful when he nodded. Well, too much seemed to be part of the problem.
But, what was too much? Too many words? Too many…tongues?
That was it! He spoke the tongue of all the birds and beasts, and even those he had never met before. If he had all this information in his head, then it made sense how he didn't have room to store more.
“You know many tongues, so this is why you can't speak Quenya? Because there is too much in your head?”
Something akin to relief washed over Tyelkormo’s face and he simply nodded.
Well, this was news his parents would appreciate.
________
“Ammë? Atto? Can we speak?”
Tyelkormo, being the small baby he was, had already been put to bed. Makalaurë and Maitimo were old enough to stay up this late to dine with their parents. Which was good. He didn't want to say this in front of his little brother, in fear of upsetting the baby.
“Yes, Káno? What is it that you wish to speak about?”
He cleared his throat and pushed aside his empty plate before looking up at his expectant and somewhat amused parents. He couldn't help but feel nervous.
“It's about Tyelko’s speech problems.”
He could visibly feel the atmosphere of the room changing. His parents frowned, not in anger but in sadness. Had they really thought this was something he had not noticed?
“What about it, Káno? Did something happen today?”
Makalaurë nodded, and was surprised to see his Ammë's face brighten up all of a sudden.
“Did he say his first words?! What did he say?! Oh my, I missed his first words, Náro!”
Oh, that was why. He tried to offer a sympathetic smile, but he was sure it resembled a grimace more.
His Atto seemed to have noticed this, for he put a calming and comforting hand on Ammë's shoulder.
Maitimo watched them quietly, eyes curious and a little concerned.
“No…no Ammë, he did not speak. But I think I know why he can't. He told me himself.”
Ammë's expression fell and she and Atto shared a glance. Maitimo put his wine glass down audibly.
“And what have you figured out, son?”
Atto finally asked, the same curious look he shared with his firstborn clouding his eyes.
“Well, you have noticed how he tends to…make animal noises when he plays or when he wants to communicate. I think they aren't just…noises. I think he actually speaks those languages. That is why Heri actually listens to him sometimes, Ammë! We were playing animal kingdom today, and he told me how he just naturally knows all these tongues. I…I think it is his Eru-Anwa.”
And that might be the answer, after all. Eru bestowed a gift and talent to every eldar in existence. His had been his voice and talented hands when it comes to instruments. Who is to say Tyelkormo’s can't be knowing the language of nature?
Atto looked thoughtful, one arm draped over Ammë's shoulder and the other holding her hand tightly upon the dining table.
“I asked him why he can't speak Quenya, and …he said his head is too full of things for him to be able to. And…and I think you should stop trying to help him. It's only making it worse.”
Ammë was the first one to react with a simple nod of her head, but Atto seemed unconvinced.
But he, too, came around once Ammë interfered.
“I know you have to experiment everything for yourself, Náro, but this is our son! You can't make another one of him again.”
“...fine.”
Atto looked like he wanted to remind Ammë that he had already made another one, when the baby in Ammë's stomach decided it was time to kick her again, as if to say, don't forget me.
Maitimo was looking at him knowingly, and Makalaurë had no choice but to drop his head.
You want to help him yourself.
He heard in his head.
He spoke not a word, but his hands clenched into fists upon the table. Maitimo did not push.
“And if you would allow me, I want to be the one to help him. He didn't close off when I tried to ask him questions, but he cries every time when it's you trying to coax words out of him. I know he is a baby, but he understands more than he lets on.”
His parents shared another look with each other, conversing without words. Not any they could hear, at least.
Finally, Atto sighed and turned to him.
“Very well.”
He would not let them down.
_______
Convincing Tyelko to let him help was way easier. The child was frustrated, but the moment he heard his offer, he was ecstatic.
“Hey! Want to do something fun?”
Tyelkormo immediately looked up from his coloring book, paintbrush still on the paper, watercolor paint staining the sky green without any hope of repairs. He tried not to grimace, so he looked at his brother’s smiling face instead.
“What do you think about you teaching me the tongue of wolves, and I help you with your Quenya, huh?”
Tyelkormo raised his eyebrows a little and cocked his head to the side as if to ask, how?
Makalaurë smiled.
“Well, I have a plan.”
And he did.
Tyelkormo and him had daily meetings just before his nap time where they would exchange words and sound using his story books and smudge drawings as guides.
Makalaurë soon learned how to howl the words Ammë and Atto and Tyelkormo…
He spoke his first word on the dining table during breakfast, and it was neither Ammë or Atto or even the name of either him or Maitimo.
“Cake.”
Makalaurë couldn't help but look up when he heard the familiar yet alien but so sweet voice speak up, chubby fingers pointing at a piece of cake drizzled with honey. His favorite.
All movements or sounds were ceased. No one even seemed to be breathing.
“Náro…”
“I know…”
Tyelkormo, oblivious to anything going on around him, was still staring adamantly at the mouthwatering pastry, and Makalaurë knew from experience that he would soon start to tear up. So he reached out for the plate and served him a small amount fit for his little tummy.
And he couldn't help himself from whispering a ‘good job’ at his little brother’s effort of months. They had finally done it, and Makalaurë had never felt prouder.
____
Small words spoken in a loud and bold tone was all that they were getting, but neither of them could find it in themselves to ask for more. Tyelkormo was talking, and rumors and whispers surrounding him had calmed down when he had greeted Haru Finwë in a loud tone during a celebration in the palace.
Yet, Makalaurë knew his brother could do better, and he knew Tyelkormo himself wanted to.
And so he promised himself he would help him even more, just as soon as all the fuss about his own begotten day calmed down.
He loved begotten days, cakes and presents, but not how Ammë insisted on making sure everything was perfect, because then he would not have time to do anything else for days.
And this year was not an exception. Robes tailoring, cake tasting even though he would have wished for pistachio cream and vanilla either way, and a long list of preparations and decorations he couldn't really care less about.
And all of that meant no more practicing with Tyelkormo. He didn't want to admit, but he missed the time the spent together already.
Thankfully, the day of his party came around at last, and before he knew it, a cake with a beautifully ornated candle Ammë herself had made was pushed in front of him, and his family, all his aunts, uncles and grandparents were cheering him on to make a wish and blow the candle.
He looked around himself, and decided this moment was his favorite from all that was his begotten day. Perhaps even sweeter than the cake his Ammë had baked.
Or perhaps, he was wrong.
For all of a sudden, a loud, boisterous voice, full of childish laughter and delighted, was heard above all the other tamer voices of his family.
“HAPPY BEGOTTEN DAY, KÁNO!”
It was a happy one indeed.