One Man In The Shadows

by Tyelkobaldo_Feanorini

Summary:

The ships and the smoke rising from them, and the grief of what they had lost is suffocating the sons of Fëanor as they try to get used to these scary and unknown new lands without the reassuring presence of their father and their eldest.
Celegorm, unable to accept the fact that he should leave his brother to the torment of their Black Foe, comes up with his maddest idea yet; Braving the wilds of Middle Earth and the Dark Lands of Angband in a mission to save Maedhros.

Chapter 1: Oblivion

 

Tyelkormo stared at the bowl of stew with an empty gaze.

 

He felt a gentle hand land on his back and soon, he felt Makalaurë's waterfall of curls tickle his cheek. He turned his head slightly, bopping his head to his brother's with no real force behind it.

 

“Eat, brother. You laboured more than any of us for this meal.”

Makalaurë kissed his head, squeezed his shoulder and then, he was gone, back to the seat at the head of the table. 

 

Where the eldest sat. And as of a month ago, Makalaurë was that now. The King Regent, but they all knew that it was mere formality. If Maitimo was dead, then he was dead. If he wasn't dead, they all prayed day and night that he would be.

 

Just so he would be safe.

 

Father was gone. Maitimo was gone. Uncle Nolofinwë stranded on the other side, and they were all alone.

 

He looked at Makalaurë again who, despite his own scoldings, was merely tossing the meat around his bowl.

He looked at his frame, draped in his unfamiliar long robes. He looked at the crown Curufinwë had fashioned for him, the shine of it muted by the glare of unshed tears in his eyes.

 

He looked at how he bit lips to stop them from trembling.

Tyelkormo’s fist clenched on top of his thigh.

 

Carnistir coughed. Tyelkormo looked up at him. He sat at Makalaurë's left. The cough he had developed since the burning of ships didn't look like it was going to go away any time soon.

 

He, too, struggled to eat, more out of the fear of choking than anything else.

 

Curufinwë sat by his side, chewing mechanically. Tyelkormo was sure he couldn't recognize the type of meat if he was asked.

 

The twins fared no better. Pityafinwë’s burns still healed, but much more slowly than it was supposed to. The songs of healing did not work on him.

 

He looked down at his own bandages escaping from under his sleeve. Not on any of them.

 

None dared voice it, but they all knew the reason why.

 

The twins shared a bowl. Telufinwë would not eat until his twin had eaten his share. Pityo, though, ate slowly. The scars around his mouth did not allow much room for movement, and Tyelkormo knew that by the time he was done, Telvo would disappear somewhere to cry rather than stay and eat.

 

Tyelkormo stood up and dragged his chair to the other side. He put it next to Pityo’s, and passed his own dish towards Telvo.

 

“You eat. I'll help him.”

“I…you don't have to, Tyelko–”

“It's not my first time feeding him. He's not splashing it on my face, at least.”

His attempt of jest was received as well as he had anticipated. No one laughed.

Curvo smiled, so that was something.

 

Telvo did not even grace him with that, but he complied. He took Tyelkormo's bowl and took small spoonfuls. Tyelko picked up the discarded spoon, and brought it towards Pityo's mouth.

 

The tears should not have surprised him, but they did.

The slid down his cheeks, seeped into his wounds. It usually made him whimper, but no sound escaped their youngest.

 

“...Pityo?”

The boy turned to look at him, and Tyelkormo would have shrunk under his gaze if he could.

“I'm. Not. Hungry.”

He whispered, but Tyelkormo would rather have him shouted it for how the muttered words sent shivers down his spine.

 

Pityafinwë stood up with some struggling, threw off the helping hand of his twin and dragged his injured foot behind himself as he disappeared out of the tent, his cane the only assistance he allowed.

 

Tyelkormo sat there, frozen, the spoon still held in his hand.

Someone took the spoon out if his hand. He looked down to find Telufinwë. The younger looked at him, eyes stormy.

 

Telvo put the spoon back in the bowl, took a deep breath before standing up.

“Telvo–”

“Save it. I'll go see where he went.”

 

Tyelkormo bit his lips, but kept his silence.

 

Telufinwë took measured steps towards the exit but he stopped momentarily, holding the drape up.

“Oh and do us a favor. Next time you're trying to help, don't.”

 

And he was gone.

 

Tyelkormo sat there, staring at the place he had occupied by the table. He felt eyes boring on him. He looked up. 

Makalaurë’s gaze was full of pity.

“Give him time. You would not have fared better if you were forced into his situation. He's prideful like all of us, and his pride is bruised. Let him be for a while. He will come around as he heals.”

 

Tyelkormo had nothing to answer it with. 

 

Curufinwë coughed and stood up slowly. His bowl was only half empty.

“I'll go tuck Tyelpë in. It's much past his bedtime.”

 

Tyelkormo found himself on his feet before he even knew what he was doing.

“You stay. I'll go. I've lost my appetite.”

Not that he had any to begin with. 

Curvo went to refuse, but Tyelkormo did not give him the chance to speak. He was already out of the tent.

 

Curufinwë and Telperinquar’s tent was close by, so it did not take him long to reach it.

It was a good thing, for Tyelkormo was not sure if he could have tolerated being alone with his thoughts for any longer.

 

His little nephew was sitting patiently on his makeshift cot, his stuffed bear in his arms as he pet him and whispered childish gibberish to him. 

He looked up when he heard him step in, and his face broke into a sweet smile and Tyelkormo, despite his sorrows, found himself unable to let him down and returned it.

“Uncle Telko! Are you tucking me in tonight? Yay! Can I get a story? Atya’s stories are all the same.”

 

Tyelkormo chuckled despite himself. It always seemed weird to him how someone as creative as his brother couldn't come up with a suitable bedtime story for a child.

 

Maybe because Anca was the one who tucked him in. Curvo was always too tired.

 

His smile dropped for a moment, but he put a fake one back on just to appease his little one.

 

“Of course. Whatever my Nillë wants. What kind of story do you want?”

 

Tyelpë pouted, deep in thoughts, before he shrugged.

“I don't know. Just not about princes and princesses and smooches. They're gross.”

 

Tyelkormo couldn't help the snort he let out. He nodded helplessly before settling down by Tyelpë's bed.

“Fine. No smooches. Let me think.”

 

And thought he did. He looked through his memories, of happier days filled with laughter, for Tyelpë had enough sadness to bear on his small shoulders. He did not deserve more.

 

His eyes lit up as a sudden image struck in his head. It wasn't exactly the happiest, but perhaps it was better than the sweet nonsense one could spout. This was meaningful, and one he knew Tyelpë would enjoy.

 

“Once upon a time, there was a boy. He was but a small thing, no older than you, but unlike you who is sweet and kind, this boy was mean. He hurt people with his words, especially his family.”

 

Tyelpë's eyes were wide as he listened.

“Why was he mean?”

 

Tyelko stroked his soft hair gently, and watched as he closed his eyes and yawned.

“Because his amya and atya were always busy with something. And his older brothers had each other, and he only had himself. So he thought if he could catch their attention by being a bad elfling, they would notice him more.

 

But it never worked. And it only made them be mean back to him, so he was still sad. And he was still alone.

And one day, when he was feeling so alone it hurt his heart, he asked his Atya something. He wanted to go and learn from his favorite Vala, Oromë, for a while now, and he asked his atya to let him leave. But his atya couldn't let his small boy leave for such a far away place, all by himself. No matter how mean this boy was, he was still his baby, like you are our baby.

 

But the little boy couldn't see it. He could only see his own hurt, and just like always, he decided to be mean, because that was the only thing he knew. He said some words that were so mean, he made his atya cry. The little boy was shocked, for he had never seen his atya cry. His amya grounded him in his room, and this time, the little boy left, finally seeing with his own eyes what he was doing to his family. He stayed in his room for a while, until he finally decided what was best to do for everyone; he had to leave home, so no one would get hurt.

 

So he got up, packed clothes for himself, took his tiny bow because he thought he knew how to use it, and left his home behind. But not before leaving a note for his parents and asking for forgiveness, even though he thought they were never going to forgive him.

 

He walked through the night and the day in the forest close to his home, and when the light of Laurelin came, he realized he was missing.

 

So there he was, missing and hungry and tired and he just wanted his atya to hug him and tell him he'd forgiven him, but he couldn't have it.

 

And it was then, when he noticed something. There was the sound of growling coming from behind the bushes he had just passed by. The boy started crying, thinking that it was the end. An animal was close by, and it was going to come and eat him.

 

It was then that he realized he was still carrying his tiny bow and arrows. So he picked up an arrow, aimed at the bushes with tears in his eyes, and let the arrow fly.

He knew it had hit something when the sound of whining reached his ears. Then, something jumped from behind the bushes. The little boy screamed and fell on his bum. He thought that it was over. That this creature was going to eat him now.

 

But instead of teeth, he felt a tongue licking away his tears. He opened his eyes, and found this huge puppy! He couldn't believe his good luck. He had always wanted a puppy, and here he was, having found one in the most unlikely places.

 

The puppy was a nice one, for he understood why the elfling had attacked him. So the little boy helped him by bandaging his wounded paw. And this was how they became friends.

 

And then later, when his family found him, he took the puppy back home with himself, and then he was not alone.”

 

He cleared his throat, scratchy from speaking too much, and looked down. Tyelpë’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even as he dreamed. His stuffed bear held fast in his arms, the child looked content and serene.

 

Tyelkormo sat there for a while, just watching him sleep. Watching him breathe. Watching him exist, without pain and alive.

 

But was he without pain? Was he unburdened? Or was it because he was tired of asking where his Uncle Timo was? Where had his grandfather gone? Why had his Uncle Pityo been hurt?

 

Had he learned to hide his own sorrows behind his smiles just so they wouldn't see them?

 

And then the puppy stayed by the little boy's side. They both grew, and stayed the best of friends. And they shall, for what is The Great Hound without his Hasty Riser?

 

A wet snout poked his cheek, and a giant wolfhound came into view.

 

Tyelkormo smiled and sniffled, before embracing the dog as he settled down on his lap.

“What would I do without you, Huan?”

He buried his face in his fur just as the first of his tears fell.

 

Tyelko is great on his own. He can do great things. But Huan shall be there, just in case he decides to be stupid.

 

Tyelkormo snorted and his hold around his hound's frame tightened.

 

He felt Huan shift in his arms. He let go. Huan straightened his form, and he was looking at him.

 

The child is afraid. Huan can smell it. 

 

Tyelko breathed out sharply and closed his eyes.

 

I am afraid. I do not blame the child.

 

Huan whined and poked his face again. Tyelko nuzzled against his face.

 

Huan saw the youngest of you leave the tent. Alone. Huan followed him to make sure he's safe. He's wounded. Vulnerable. He should not be left alone. 

 

Tyelkormo nodded and caressed his neck. A silent thank you.

 

I fear his outburst was the fault of mine. I know he preferred to be left alone with Telvo yet I pushed. I worry, but he doesn't want it from me. He's been avoiding me. I do not know what I have done to deserve it.

 

Both of them had been avoiding him. They did not talk to him. They did not look at him, and maybe Tyelko should have taken these signs more seriously. Maybe this way, he wouldn't have hurt Pityo.

 

Why don't you ask?

 

And really, why didn't he? Tyelko was never one to beat around the bush. If he had hurt them, he wished to know so he could amend it.

 

Maybe I will.

 

And perhaps he should do it then. Why wait for tomorrow? Why wait so this hurt could fester and turn into resentment too?

 

“Stay the night here. Perhaps you are the best choice to comfort him through his nightmares.”

 

Huan blinked at him and stood up so he could move. Tyelkormo looked at the child, leaned in to kiss his brow softly and ever so quietly, left the tent behind to seek out his youngest brothers.

 

The twins’ tent was far, closer to the edge of the royal grounds. Far from his own. Isolated.

 

He would have laughed at their not so subtle dismissal if it did not pain him so.

 

The lights were on, which did not come as a surprise. None of them got much sleep these days, kept awake by nightmares or worries for their unknown futures.

 

He creeped by slowly, testing the waters first. His ears sharpened, trying to catch any sound or voices coming from inside. He was not sure if Pityafinwë had calmed down yet. He did not wish for his presence to be more fuel to the fire than the water which would put it out.

 

So he waited, and sure enough, he could catch two voices coming from inside. 

 

Pityo's voice had gotten thinner and weaker compared to his twin's. Another scar left from the ships.

So at first, it was hard to catch what he was saying. He stepped closer, wishing to hear his words better.

 

Which he soon came to regret.

“So what that he is my brother?! Why should I forgive him?! He did this to me! He started the fire with the rest of you lot!”

“I know! I know Pityo! But he was also the one who rescu–”

“I wished he hadn't!”

And for a moment, all was silent. Tyelko’s heart was beating so fast he feared his brothers might hear it, and there was something like a stone blocking his airway.

“Pityo–”

“I wish…I wish he hadn't. I wished I had died, Telvo. I can't even feed or bathe myself anymore! I have to rely on you for every little thing! I…I'm in so much pain. I can't even speak without it hurting, Telvo…I'm so so tired…”

 

He heard sniffling. Telvo was crying. Tyelkormo’s knees felt weak.

 

“Please…please don't say this, Pityo. I…I can't do this without you…Atya is gone. Amya is not here…Maitimo…Oh poor Maitimo…”

The older twin sobbed, and Tyelkormo had to cover his own mouth else his presence became known to his brothers.

 

“I …I hate them, Telvo, and it's killing me. I hate my own brothers for saving me, but I can't help it. Every time…every time I look at Tyelko I am only reminded of the flames. I…I didn't want to treat him like that, I really didn't!-- 

And Maitimo! I wish him dead! I pray for it! What kind of monster am I?”

 

Tyelkormo couldn't listen anymore. He stumbled away from the tent, uncaring if the twins noticed him or not, and bolted towards the edge of the camp and towards the forest.

 

Many had retired for the night, yet voices rose in the darkness as he passed by guards and watchers, worried and concerned.

 

Tyelkormo couldn't bring himself to care.

 

Soon the line of trees came into view, and Tyelko slowed down when he was well deep into the forest, and fell down by a moss covered stone, panting and trembling.

 

His breath hitched as broken sobs clogged his throat. He could hardly keep his voice down, but he tried his best.

 

These lands were unknown and things lurked in the dark. One could never know if he was being watched.

 

One could never trust, or else they would be taken.

 

One could not be like Maitimo.

 

I wish him dead! I pray for it!

 

And didn't Tyelko do the same? Sitting on his ass and doing nothing but sending prayers to gods who had doomed them to this? Who cared not for them or their fate?

 

Who cared not if Maitimo was in pain and agony, suffering under the hand of their own brothers?

 

And how was Tyelkormo any different? He had done nothing to save his own brother.

 

Is this where the valour of Turcafinwë ends? Saving one brother from the flames only to be hated for it, but doing nothing for the other because there was nothing which could be done?

 

Makalaurë had borne a determined face when he had turned down Moringotto’s messenger. No more deals. No more treaties, and no more armies to lay siege because their numbers were low.

 

Maitimo had taken many of their best, of none which had returned to them.

 

We tried father's way and attacked without rest or plans. It did not work, and we lost him. 

We tried Nelyo's way and negotiated. It did not work, and we lost our brother.

 

Now, we do it my way. No more negotiations or assembling armies for doomed battles. We take a step back and lick our wounds. We approach our kin and rekindle our old friendships. We make a home for ourselves. There will be time to take back what is ours and avenge our losses, but we have to be here to do that.

 

No more armies to take, and none would take Tyelkormo’s words over Makalaurë's. He was the King. He was the one with the last word. And he was the one with the easy way out.

 

Many of his hunters had witnessed the Massacre of the Treaty, as people had begun to call it. Torn to pieces but recognizable, each and every one of Maitimo's companions had been slain. All, but the king.

 

No one would accompany him in this quest of madness. And he feared they would think him  mad and report his plans to Makalaurë, who would rather have him shackled like an animal rather than let him be free to do as he wished.

 

He was all but alone in this. One man, and maybe…

 

Maybe this was all that it required. One man, and secrecy. Maybe one man in the shadows could accomplish what an army had failed to do.

 

Maybe Tyelkormo could finally get to use all that his mother's brother, his Uncle Arosso, had taught him. His uncle, who might have abandoned them all when his father abandoned their mother but had never deprived him of his teaching while he served under him.

 

Be silent. Be vigilant. You have it in you, nephew. You could have led us through our thrall infested homeland if you had only been born there.

 

He remembered his uncle saying.

 

Be silent. Be vigilant. Be quick. Save your brother.

 

Muttered another, tired and worn-out voice, similar to his father's.

 

Father would want him to do this. To save Maitimo and to perhaps, take back the jewels too, if he could. He would want Maitimo to be back. To lead them for they were leaderless.

 

“ One man in the shadows…” He whispered, standing up.

 

He had worked to do.

 

Chapter 2: This Is A Goodbye

Summary:

Tyelkormo takes one look upon his life before he leaves it all behind.

“Tyelko?”

Tyelkormo looked up upon being called. Makalaurë looked tired again, but he still tried to smile. Tyelko only stared at him, confused. Rarely did they talk during mealtimes, so he wondered what it was his brother wished to share.

 

“Telvo and Pityo have something they want to tell you.”

Tyelkormo’s eyes widened. He turned to his youngest brothers, jaw slack in shock. They appeared less thrilled than Tyelko felt for this conversation. 

 

Oh, Makalaurë… What have you done?

 

“We…we’re both sorry for how we treated you the other day. We… know pouring our frustration on you isn’t fair. You didn’t… deserve it and…”

Telvo finally stopped, huffed and looked at his twin pointedly. Pityafinwë looked like he had swallowed a lemon, and wanted to be back on those ships rather than stay there, looking at him. He sighed, rolled his eyes as much as he could and looked up at him.

“We hope… you can… forgive us.”

He spat out forcefully at last. Tyelko turned to Káno again. He probably wasn’t looking as disappointed as he felt, but his facade didn’t manage to hide all of his emotions.

 

Everyone was looking at Tyelko now, waiting and expectant. For him to accept? Or for him to act like himself and call out the little ones on their stupid attempt of an apology. No one knew. This was uncharted territory for all of them. The twins had never had to apologize to Tyelkormo before. 

Tyelko put his knife and fork back on his plate. He took a deep breath, and looked up at his brothers. Telufinwë watched his every move nervously and Pityafinwë…glared at him, as if daring him to do anything but accept, and make them deal with more pestering from their Prince Regent.

Tyelko couldn’t lie. He was tempted. It would only be fair. They had hurt him, and yet couldn’t quite bring themselves to apologize to him. He had every right to refuse. But, how could Tyelko do that? How could it be the last he speaks to them?

 

So what that he is my brother?! Why should I forgive him?! He did this to me! He started the fire with the rest of you lot!

 

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. And when he finally looked up, he was smiling. 

“Forgiven and forgotten, dear ones.”

 

 And I hope one day you can forgive me too.

 

And just like that, the tense air deflated. Telvo went back to his food, the corner of his lips upturned. Pityo stared at him for a while. Tyelko wasn’t quite sure what the boy searched for, or if he had found it or simply had given up when he finally looked away. 

 

He just resumed eating, and for the first time in forever, he actually finished everything on his plate. Where he was going, there would be no room for emotional breakdowns and food strikes. He needed all his strength for it.

 

“Tyelko?”

Curvo’s voice was laced with some amusement when he called him. Tyelko looked up. His brother glanced momentarily at Tyelko’s clean plate and back at his face, a half smirk adorning his face.

 Tyelko raised an eyebrow in challenge. Curufinwë merely shook his head.

“Would you mind tucking Tyelpë in again? He asks for you, but is too shy to tell you himself. It appears your stories have charmed him. And since you have thoroughly…cleaned your plate, I assume you won’t mind.”

“Tucking him in? I don’t mind. But the attitude I very much do.”

He stood up from his seat, poking a laughing Moryo’s shoulder. His brother started coughing again, but they sounded to be the continuation of his earlier mischief. Tyelko’s eyes softened. He turned to Makalaurë, gave him a mocking bow and left the tent behind, the lively sounds of his brothers following his steps. It almost had him second guess his decision. Almost.

But then, he imagined another head of auburn hair amidst the crowd of their family. Hurt, possibly, but laughing along with the rest of them. This was enough to make his steps ever more sure as he approached Curufinwë’s tent.

 

Tyelpë was sitting on his cot again as Tyelkormo entered. The boy smiled brightly, wriggling under the cover of his thick blankets so he could greet him with an embrace. 

“Uncle Telko!”

Tyelkormo took the boy in his arms, and the feeling of those small arms circling around his neck almost brought tears to his eyes. He would be back, even if just for him. Just to make sure his little boy would live on.

 

“Another story?”

Tyelperinquar’s voice was hopeful as he leaned back against his pillow once again. Tyelkormo huffed in amusement but shook his head.

“A lullaby this time, perhaps?”

 

Tyelpë looked crestfallen for a second before schooling his face. Tyelko couldn't help smiling.

“It is a lullaby. But there is a story behind it. It's about when I was a child myself.”

The silver eyes widened a little, and Tyelpë sat up, more eager than he was a second ago.

Tyelkormo chuckled and pushed him slightly so he would lay down. Then, he pulled the covers up so Tyelpë’s form was completely covered. Days had gotten ever colder. Tyelkormo guessed what they had put behind was yet the summer of these lands. He tried to not let the fact worry him too much.

“Stay still now so I can start.” 

His nephew listened and stopped with his fidgeting, looking up at him expectantly when he took longer than he should have. 

One could not blame him. For all he had done, it was hard to think about his father without his heart getting squeezed painfully in his chest.

 

He took a deep breath before edging closer to Tyelpë's cot, and starting with his tale.

“I was older than you by a few years, I remember. Do you know what happened to Haru’s mother?”

Tyelpë frowned, worrying his lower lip before finally nodding.

“She…went to Mandos? Like Haru’s Atya and Haru himself?”

 

Tyelkormo grimaced but nodded. Eru, what he was doing, telling him this story? 

 

But, he has to know. He has to understand if I don't come back. He has to know I didn't leave him by my own will.

 

“That is true. When she gave birth to Haru, she became tired. Too tired to stay. Even though she wanted to. She wanted to stay with Haru, and watch him grow up, but she was too tired, so she had to leave. Haru never liked his begotten days because his amya wasn't there to spend it with him. Back then, I did not know much of my haruni. Just that I could not call Indis my grandmother, and my haruni had left for Mandos and couldn't be with us.

And so I always wondered why Atya never liked his begotten day. He would always leave after breakfast when the day came, and he would be home for supper. But he always looked like he had cried. I didn't like that. 

So, one day when it was his begotten day, when he left for wherever he was going, I followed him without his knowledge. It was only after we got there I realized we were somewhere I had never been before.”

 

Tyelpë's wide eyes were hooked to his face. Tyelkormo took a second before continuing.

 

“I looked around at those strange, glass looking trees, flowers and leaves, and realized I had walked into the woods of Lórien. Atya's horse walked among those trees, and I followed them until we reached a hill. Then, Atya dismounted and walked up the hill on foot. And this is where I had to stop, because I didn't want Atya to find me, and the hill was bare of any trees but a single willow tree up on the hill.

So I waited. I waited for hours, and as time went on the light of Laurëlin waned, Atya finally came down. 

I quickly hid so he would not see me, but his horse, Mísiel…she noticed me. Atya didn't listen to her then, and so as they left, I was free to run up that hill to find what had made him cry. And run I did. I ran until my breath came in gasps, and I had reached the top.

 

Then, I saw something I had not expected at all. There…there was a bed of marble and on top of it…there lay a woman. She had hair much like mine, though not quite the same.

It was…”

“It was your haruni?”

Tyelkormo looked down at the child, who appeared to be more alert than he was before. Perhaps Tyelkormo was not the best at bedtime stories after all. Yet, he nodded, secretly amazed by the wit of such a young one as Tyelpë.

“It was her, indeed. And I …I don't know why, but I felt such grief over her loss as if … as if I knew her myself. Perhaps this was at the expense of my father, and perhaps she was such a person deserving of grief and love from someone who did not even know her. Nonetheless, I found myself crying, sitting by her bed. And this…this was when your haru found me. 

And he…he held me close until I had calmed down, singing me this song I had never heard anyone sing before, not even your uncle Káno who knew of all the songs there were. Later, when I asked about it, he said the song was one my haruni had devised for him and him only, and considering how I had inherited her looks, and how I somehow was the first to find her resting place, my Atya had decided to give this song to me, so it would be my saving grace like it had been his.”

 

A small hand covered his own. He looked down at their joined hands first before glancing up at the sweet face of his nephew.

 

He took a breath and let it out slowly.

“And now, I'm going to sing it for you so it will protect you in your dreams. Would you like that?”

 

Those silvery eyes were glistening more than usual, but Tyelpë nodded anyway.

 

Tyelkormo sang.

 

“Winter has ended,

Spring has come

 

A red flower blooms,

And now is the time

 

Join the host of heaven

Don't you hear the voice?

 

Here they sing and here they live

Can't you see them rejoice?...”

 

And he sang until the last note drew to an end, and by his side slept a peaceful elfling, with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. He leaned down, kissed his brow and stood up, slowly turning towards the shadow looming over him.

 

Huan huffed and came forward to nuzzle against his cheek. 

He patted the great hound's neck.

“My friend, stay with him again even if his father shows up. Your presence calms his soul more than any voices, even be it Makalaurë’s.”

 

Where do you go now? Seeking out the young ones again? 

 

“A visit to the King this time. We need to discuss and plan a patrol. I will not be back for a while, I believe. There is much to talk about.”

Huan whined in understanding. 

He walked past him and settled down on the place Tyelko had been occupying before, and closed his eyes. Anyone who did not know of the spirit of the great hound might have thought him sleeping. But Huan was ever vigilant, and he did not need sleep.

 

Tyelkormo hesitated before the drapes, holding them up for a moment. He glanced back at the child first, then at his hound. He sighed, closed his eyes and turned away.

 

He had made his decision. He had prepared everything he needed in a pack hidden under a bush in the northern woods.

 

He would not turn back now.

 

He took off towards his own tent, contrary to what he had told his hound. He knew Huan would follow his scent there, and he would grow suspicious of his blatant lie, but it wasn't something Tyelko worried about. It would be too late by then.

 

The camp was quiet, and the crickets played their music as he entered his own space.

 

He looked around the place, taking it for in last time before he were to leave it behind, for a short while if he was lucky.

 

He did not like thinking about the alternative much, but his intrusive thoughts demanded to be heard too.

 

He looked down at himself. His simple but elegant lavender tunic glared at him. He huffed and held the hem in his hand, before pulling it off in a swift move.

 

Someone coughed. Tyelkormo froze. He breathed out before turning around slowly.

 

Carnistir stood at the entrance, eyebrow raised and a small smirk at the corner of his lip.

 

“Waiting for anyone? Should I come another time?”

 

Tyelkormo snorted and threw his tunic at Moryo's head. His brother chuckled before pushing the drapes completely and coming in. 

Tyelko scowled as he sat down on his makeshift bed.

 

“Didn't say you can come in, brat.”

Moryo only rolled his eyes. He threw the tunic back at him before taking a tour over his room and finally deciding to join him.

 

“Even if I come bearing gifts?”

Tyelko’s eyes widened. He turned fully towards him. He cocked his head to the side in question. Moryo's smirk lost its playful malice. He sighed before holding the pack in his hand towards him.

 

Tyelkormo still looked confused as he reached out for it. He took the pack gingerly, gave it a once-over and looked back up at his little brother. 

Moryo still smiled, his eyes bright, an innocent excitement swimming in them which immediately softened the edge of Tyelko's suspicion. This wasn't a prank. 

Moryo’s grin broadened as he seemed to notice it as well. 

“Go on, then. Open it. It won't bite. That's your job.”

 

Tyelko threw him a mock glare but he was smiling as well.

He looked back down at his gift and ever so slowly, pulled the knot of the fabric open to reveal the goods inside.

 

He wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. It was a fabric of rich quality but everything about it was simply…puzzling.

 

When he first looked at it, it was black. But when he reached out and pulled it up, it changed color all of a sudden. The fabric, now a dark forest green, was extremely light and soft to touch. He moved it over, and his jaw almost dropped when it changed color to a dark silver.

 

He dared look away from it, only to find the smug face of Carnistir.

“Wha–”

“It's mesmerizing, right? I would have to call it my proudest work, but I fear I can't take all the credit.”

 

He took the cloth from him and stood up. He held it up close, and Tyelkormo could see the real shape of what it was supposed to be now. A cloak, changing color yet again in Moryo's hands, back to black.

 

“Haru…Haru once gave me a notebook. He said little. Just how Haruni would have wanted me to have it. I studied it for years…her notes I mean. And among them I found an abandoned project of a fabric she had named Wathar in the old tongue.”

 

“Veil…”

Tyelkormo mumbled, the realization slowly dawning.

 

Moryo continued.

“She had started her work on it young, wishing to give this to Haru as a courting gift, so it would protect him and hide him from the eyes of Moringotto. But before she could Orom– I mean, the Hunter showed up. She continued her work on it in Aman, but given how she had no need of it, she eventually abandoned it. I have been working on this for years, always telling myself I would finish it for your next begotten day.”

 

Moryo looked down, and even in the dark of this endless night, Tyelko could see the blush of his cheeks. His heart clenched in his chest. He went to open his mouth, not sure of what he was supposed to say, but his brother beat him to it.

“I…I am sorry for the circumstances, brother, but I wish you to have it, for you need it now more than ever. These lands are dangerous, and if the work of my hands is able to offer you any sort of protection, then let me help you.”

 

“Oh Moryo…”

He couldn't quite help himself cooing. He reached out and took his wrist, pulling him back making him sit by his side again.

“Your gift is beyond precious, brother, for it is from you before anything it is capable of, though I do not seek to undermine the value of your skills. I will treasure it for the treasure it is. Thank you, Mori.”

He leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Moryo tensed up for a moment but relaxed.

 

Tyelkormo took the cloak again and put it on. Despite his ridiculous attire, sitting there with his trousers only, he felt as regal as he would in his most elegant robes and tunics.

 

“What do you think? Do I look as princely as I am?”

He laughed and glanced back at his brother. Moryo, though, didn't look like he was listening.

He was staring at Tyelko's chest. 

 

Tyelkormo frowned and looked down, and his eyes softened when he found what Moryo seemed to find so fascinating.

 

He took the pendant and held it up so Moryo could see it easier.

Moryo, too, pulled out his own from under his tunic. The brilliant silverstone shone quite similarly to his own aquamarine. They pulsed slightly as they did when close to each other.

 

And…

Tyelkormo couldn't quite help the tears falling. He had tried to hold back all evening but now, sitting there with his little brother who Tyelkormo did not deserve because which brother was cruel enough to take advantage of the other's kindness and use their gifts knowing what they were going to do would hurt them?

 

Tyelko did. And Tyelko was never a good brother.

 

But perhaps he could try to be, once he had all the family he had left back together again.

 

“Tyelko?”

He raised his head, sniffling and wiping away the tears with haste. Moryo worried his lower lip for a second and Tyelkormo waited patiently.

 

“Do you…do you want to go hunting tomorrow? To test…to test your new cloak?”

 

Tyelkormo would be cursed. Of that he was sure as he smiled and lied to his brother's face.

“We can. Huan shall join us as well, once Tyelpë is up and running around to whatever he does during the day with Curvo. We can bring back some nice game for dinner too.”

 

Moryo's lips curved up, all his earlier hesitance gone.

He coughed, his face now sober. He stood up and patted the spot he was sitting, standing there awkwardly for a moment.

 

Tyelkormo took pity on him after some time, for while he loved his brother, he also loved watching him squirm from time to time.

“I will see you tomorrow, brother. Sleep well.”

Moryo looked at him and at the tent’s entrance. He nodded, hands fidgeting a little before he finally reached out to pat Tyelko's shoulder awkwardly. Then, he turned around, his feet soundless as Tyelkormo himself had once taught him.

 

Tyelkormo waited for a minute or two, just until he was sure he was alone before standing up. He pulled the cloak off with utmost gentleness, and reached into the chest of clothes by his bed. He pulled out a moleskin brown tunic, turned it over and back, looking for holes but found none. 

 

Something caught around the button as he put it on. He looked down. The jewel seemed to blink at him, its glow a familiar sight. He held it up once more, his fingers caressing the stone. The jewel pulsed. He brought it to his lips and kissed it.

 

“Atya? Can you hear me?”

Silence was his only answer. Not that he had expected anything else either, yet the disappointment settled deep in his heart.

 

“Is it…is it bad that I'm afraid? Some part of me doesn't want to go. I know I've fought those creatures before, but never alone. Yet…knowing Timo might be alive is more scary. If he is alive and he is hurting…

You would want me to go, right? You would want me to bring him back. Then he will heal, and he will become our king again. Then maybe we will be alright. What do I do, Atya? What would you have me do?”

 

Later on, he would swear he felt the gentle touch of a hand running through his hair, and of the echo of a voice resonating inside his head.

 

Be careful. 

 

Tyelkormo gasped and dropped the pendant which was now cold.

He heaved, looking around in the hopes of taking a glimpse of what he had just heard.

 

Atya?

 

Silence greeted him once more. Tyelkormo closed his eyes for long before nodding at last.

 

“I won't let you down.”

 

 

---

 

The figure, clad in shadows and naught but leather armour to protect him went unseen among the guards on duty. He walked through the small crowd of the Noldor still awake. He saw his last brother depart for the night, and with a short, final glance, he took off towards the north where his destination lay.

Notes:

In case it was unclear, Wathar means Veil in primitive elvish.

Well, I hope you all liked it. I'd appreciate if you shared your thoughts.

Chapter 3: A Guide Through the Darkness Pt. 1

Summary:

He tried. He tried grabbing at the hand holding him, yet it did not budge even as Tyelkormo's nails scratched at it.
He tried to run, thinking perhaps the momentum of his sudden movement would throw off his attacker and Tyelko would be able to flee.

But before he could even execute his sluggish train of thoughts, he felt the impact of what he could only guess was his attacker’s fist colliding with his guts. He gasped, doubling over only to be pulled up again by his hood. He was shoved against the trunk, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the cold kiss of a blade against his throat.

Tyelkormo breathed in, observing the young deer as she grazed upon the sparse patches of grass. She was nigh a few months out of childhood, and it would be her first mating season of many this year. 

Would be, if Tyelko’s arrow failed him now. He blinked, breathing out a little harsher than he had intended. The deer’s ears perked up a little, but to Tyelko’s relief, she didn’t look like she had found his hiding place, or was planning on taking this hint of danger very seriously. 

She was young, and the boldness of the young ones made them easier to hunt.

 

He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut as the deer moved a little, and Tyelkormo took a second before he could find her again. Only after getting a good distance away from the camp of his people had Tyelkormo come to truly understand what it meant to actually live in darkness. The few hours after the death of the trees, hiding in the mountains without the light of torches kept flashing before his eyes, and he had to squeeze them shut or risk being drowned in the abyss of his thoughts and fears instead of the darkness surrounding him.

This time wasn’t an exception either. He knew to make a clean shot, Tyelkormo had to clear his mind of any thoughts wishing to distract him. And as impossible as it sounded, the mere touch of the soft feathers of his arrows seemed to be working in his favor.

 

He pulled out an arrow with practiced ease, and keeping his gaze fixated on where he hoped was the deer’s heart, he notched it and drew his bow back. He took a deep breath, and let go.

 

A twig, somewhere far but too close for his comfort, snapped. The deer moved, and the arrow grazed her shoulder softly as she took off, away from him and whatever had made that noise.

 

Tyelkormo gasped, falling on his bum as exhaustion took over him entirely. But it did not last long. A sudden fear engulfed him as he looked around himself. The forest was quiet. Even the birds chirping had gone down a notch, and now it was entirely gone.

 

Another twig snapped, the sound echoing inside his head despite the banging of his beating heart.

Slowly, he rose, pulling his Shadow Cloak, as he had gotten to call Moryo's gift, around himself.

His bow he shouldered, and with his steps careful and quiet, he took off from his hiding place.

 

He knew he would have noticed the coming of those…creatures from feet away. The thralls were clumsy. They were not meant for stealth, but to charge ahead of others in battles, and become the meat sacks to be slaughtered and slaughter as many as they could.

 

He doubted it to be any other creature of the Lord either. Wolves hunted in packs, and Tyelkormo had only heard one. 

It could have been a bear, but he was still too far south for him to spot one. The terrain was smooth and the slope of the mountain too gentle for bears who preferred height and cold.

 

His list was cleared, and it scared him.

He was foreign to these lands, and foreigners rarely lasted long in unfamiliar habitats, as resistant as they might be.

 

 

---

Tyelko leaned against the trunk of the pine tree. He closed his eyes, and rubbed over a painful spot on his thigh. 

 

He had barely rested in the last three days since his journey had started. 

He had wanted to get a headstart, fearing both his own failing spirit and the possibility of Makalaurë sending people after him. He had eaten little, slept little, but now his body seemed to be giving out on him. 

 

His rations had been spent but little, yet he had to consider the path back to the camp, and another mouth he would need to feed. 

 

He had tried to hunt. Take as much as he could preserve for the road with salt, and leave the rest to wolves.

 

A shiver ran down his spine at the memory. He looked around himself and pulled the cloak tighter around his frame, wishing to hide as much as he could.

He had never gotten to actually try it out with Moryo, but he trusted in his brother’s skills, and he had likely tested it himself a few times before bringing it to him anyway.

 

He just hoped it was good enough to hide him from the eyes of whatever had made his prey run out of his grasp. His pride was a little bruised, but he was spooked enough to not be able to even think about it.

 

His stomach hurt a little, telling him he needed to eat. He had yet to start feeling the fatigue and weakness following it. 

 

He was not used to it. Even on the ships and on their way here, food hadn't been quite as scarce. Sure, their three meals a day had turned into two, and it had felt like they were never going to eat anything but fish again, yet they had never had to ration as strictly as he was doing now.

 

He sighed, cracked his aching neck and pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them.

Now, almost everything was covered by his cloak. 

 

He considered giving in to the urges and sleeping for a short while. He needed his mind sharp, and he well remembered how Maitimo used to get when he didn't get enough sleep as a youth. 

The thought of his brother made his heart clench with guilt. He held his knees tighter and breathed out. 

Maitimo was out there, going through Eru knew what, and Tyelkormo was here, worried about food. Was he getting fed? And if so, did Tyelko dare imagine what?

 

His heart was telling him to go on, to not waste time when he clearly had life in him yet.

But his mind knew his limits, and it was telling him now was the time to stop.

 

And it seemed that his choice was already made for him. His eyes drooped, and despite his resistance, his body was ready to shut down and dream walk for a while.

 

And later, when he thought about it, perhaps it had not been his wisest choice to settle down on the ground to rest, and leave the protection to his cloak only.

 

But in that second when he felt something grab the back of his neck and pull him up, he couldn't quite think about anything besides getting away.

 

He tried. He tried grabbing at the hand holding him, yet it did not budge even as Tyelkormo's nails scratched at it. 

He tried to run, thinking perhaps the momentum of his sudden movement would throw off his attacker and Tyelko would be able to flee.

 

But before he could even execute his sluggish train of thoughts, he felt the impact of what he could only guess was his attacker’s fist colliding with his guts. He gasped, doubling over only to be pulled up again by his hood. He was shoved against the trunk, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the cold kiss of a blade against his throat.

 

Tyelkormo stilled. He understood then that he had been bested. One wrong move, and there would be blood spilled.

 

Yet his breathing refused to calm down. His heart beat inside his head, he was sweating and wasn't sure if–

 

The blade felt closer now. Something trickled down. He wasn't sure if it was sweat or blood.

 

The hold over his cloak and hair tightened, and he whimpered as his head was pulled up. 

 

He felt a warm breath on his face, and his attacker chuckled. 

The voice was deep and mischievous, and if he had not heard it in this situation, he would have dared to say it was a nice one.

But the owner of that voice seemed set on killing him at that moment, and he couldn't think about anything but trying to talk his way out of this, and if not, think of another way. For Maitimo's sake, if not anything else, he couldn't die there. Not when he hadn't even stepped into the enemy's territory.

 

“Yé hand múl! Carón Maer, ach cenin tre gawagen!”

 

The attacker spat in his face, and Tyelkormo finally dared to open his eyes.

 

His captor looked…he looked normal. Raven curls framed his face, his skin was pale as Makalaurë once was when he hadn't left the house for two months, and his dark grey eyes bore into him as if he wished to tear his throat apart.

 

But then, something changed. Those dark pupils widened, and Tyelkormo felt the hold on his hair become slack. The knife wasn't held quite as closely anymore either. The man whispered something, and if the forest had not been as quiet as it was then, Tyelko might not have heard it at all.

 

“...Míriel?”

 

A million questions ran through his mind when he heard that name, but he didn't wait to ask them. While the Grey Eyes was busy looking into his eyes, Tyelkormo reached for the short blade hanging from his belt.

 

The Grey Eyes’ gaze hardened to steel, and suddenly the knife was back at his throat, and this time Tyelko felt the sting of it cutting his skin.

 

“I le? Amman le col sen thîr?”

 

He could hear a question in his harsh tone, but even if he had understood him and could answer him back, he wasn't sure if he would have dared. The blade dug deeply, and he feared to even swallow else deepen the wound. Would it scar? Would his brothers question it lat–

 

The knife retreated, and Grey Eyes looked confused. Tyelkormo gasped and felt his knees buckle under his weight. He had completely forgotten about his own blade he had tried to unsheathe.

 

Grey Eyes grasped his arm and lowered him down. 

Tyelkormo’s head was spinning. One moment, this elda was trying to kill him. Tyelkormo hadn't questioned his intent. He could have done it at any moment, but something had stopped him. And now, he was treating him with utmost gentleness, as if he was an old friend.

 

Tyelkormo breathed out sharply and reached out to touch the skin of his throat. It stung a little, but it was shallow enough to not need stitches. 

 

He heard Grey Eyes wince. He felt a hand land on his shoulder. Tyelkormo flinched and shied away from the touch, but his limbs felt too weak to want to run from him. And he knew even if he did, the other one would catch him. He had already proved himself stealthy enough to sneak up on him. Tyelkormo didn't want to test his other skills.

 

“You are one of the newcomers, aren't you? The ones who came with the ships.”

 

The smooth tongue of Cuiviénen rolled out of Grey Eyes’ mouth, and Tyelkormo froze.

There was a pause, before the man continued.

“You understand me, don't you? Good, good. Now, look up, little man. I mean no more harm to you.”

 

A hand still holding his throat, Tyelkormo looked up and into the dim light of those dark eyes. Grey Eyes looked different now that he felt no more hostility towards him. They looked kind, and there was a twinkle in them that reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

 

Grey Eyes smiled at something he saw before sitting down in front of him.

 

“Are you her son?”

Tyelkormo blinked, and finally dared to utter his first word to him.

“What?”

Grey Eyes rolled his eyes at him, but he was still smiling, so Tyelkormo wasn't sure if he was actually annoyed or not.

“Míriel's? You can't tell me you're not related to her at all. You look just like her. Perhaps the hair is whiter and paler, and your eyes …”

He made a general gesture towards his face, but Tyelko could understand what he meant. He sighed. It wasn't the first time someone made assumptions about him based on his reddish looking eyes, but it was definitely the first time someone had tried to kill him over it. Times like this was when he felt the true weight of being a Lossë.

“...but otherwise, you look just like she did last I saw her. If not Míriel, then perhaps Olwë? The pair of them! Left us here and never looked back.”

 

Tyelkormo couldn't help but flinch at the mention of the Telerin king. He bit his lips and looked away for a moment.

Grey Eyes didn't actually sound upset, but there seemed to be some longing in that tone. Some bittersweetness of memories from a long time ago.

 

“So, which one?”

 

Tyelkormo looked back up. The humor in Grey Eyes’ look wasn't completely gone, but certainly diminished under the weight of his question.

Tyelko gulped and breathed deeply.

“Míriel. I'm…I'm her grandson.”

 

Grey Eyes looked shocked for a moment, before a grin bloomed and lightened up his whole face. He laughed in incredulity, and suddenly, his hands were holding his face, and Tyelko couldn't lean away from it despite how much he wanted to. The hold was bruising and strong, and it seemed Grey Eyes was completely unaware of this.

“My my! A beautiful one you are. It was Finwë, right? They finally married, didn't they? I always wished to see what would become of their union, and I have to say you exceed my imaginations.”

 

Despite himself, Tyelkormo felt his cheeks heat up. He knew he was handsome, but to hear it from a stranger who appeared to have no shame was an utterly different experience.

 

A stranger who appeared to know his grandparents familiarly enough to call them by their names.

Who was he?

 

Grey Eyes finally let go of him and leaned back all of a sudden.

“Well, is it from your mother's side? Your father's? How many aunts and uncles do you have? I remember them joking about having seven children, but hopefully they didn't go through with that. Poor Míriel’s body wouldn't be able to take it!”

 

Tyelkormo’s head was spinning with the amount of questions, but one thing he knew, and it was that they had got to stop.

 

“Hold on! You…you can't just ask me all these questions about my family after you just tried to kill me! I don't even know your name! How would I know you're not a servant of Moringotto, here to trick me?”

 

Grey Eyes looked taken aback for a moment, before his annoying smile returned.

“Well I don't know your name either. There's always a chance to amend this.”

 

Then, he stuck out his hand and grasped Tyelko's forearm tightly in a warrior salute.

“Name's Beleg. People usually call me Cúthalion, but I doubt you would know what that means as you clearly don't speak the tongue of us Sindar. Now, you know my name. See? You didn't need to make a fuss!”

 

Tyelkormo…wasn't quite sure what to say to that. On one hand, Grey Eye– well, Beleg, had done what he had asked of him. But on the other hand, knowing his name didn't really help him here. 

Beleg had still tried to kill him, and Tyelkormo didn't know if he should feel safe around him. The man's cheerfulness didn't help in making this decision.

 

Beleg raised his eyebrows, let go of his arm slowly and leaned away a little.

“You know, I don't know how it is done in those fancy lands Elwë and Finwë liked to talk about, but here in Beleriand you are supposed to tell me your own name when I offer you mine. It's just the polite thing to do.”

 

“Oh, and is there perhaps a custom to not jump on unsuspecting travelers and attempt to murder them?”

 

Beleg’s smile seemed to only widen at that, and before Tyelkormo knew, this madman was laughing.

“Oh Ilúvatar, You sure are Míriel's! Tell me, little man, how can you contain this much sass in your body? Perhaps you aren't. It seems to be overflowing to me!”

 

Tyelkormo wasn't sure what to do or how to approach this one.

He didn't like giving him a chance of processing anything, and he liked interrupting him. And Tyelkormo…he had never been on the other end of this treatment.

 

“Just…who are you? What do you want from me? I have to be on my way to something important and can't waste it on you. So, if you still want to kill me, go ahead and try. If not, leave. You've taken enough time from me already.”

With that, Tyelko stood up and walked towards where he had hidden his pack. Shallow or not, this wound needed treatment or it would become infected.

 

He tried to keep his ears sharp, to see if any footsteps followed him. He heard nothing, which wasn't reassuring. If Beleg had been able to sneak up on him one time, he could do it again.

And sure enough, he felt his imposing figure and shadow hanging behind him when he bent down to retrieve the skin of brandy and clean cloths.

 

He straightened up and turned to face him. Beleg wasn't smiling anymore, but his eyes were still kind. Compassionate and understanding.

Tyelko was taken aback once again. His eyes widened a little before he composed himself and went to walk around him and settle somewhere a distance away.

 

A hand landed on his shoulder. It was neither forceful nor weak. It was firm and strong.

“Let me. The wound is my doing. Let me help you.”

 

Tyelkormo looked into his eyes, searching for any more mockery, some malice he had not spotted before, but there was none.

He did not offer him anything, but when Beleg reached out to take the skin and cloth from his hand, he didn't fight it.

 

Tyelkormo watched him work, mostly out of having nothing else to do but be paranoid. He seemed practiced and at ease when he soaked the cloth in some brandy. He pushed his chin up, and Tyelkormo obliged. He hissed as the wound stung, and Beleg winced. He couldn't see his eyes, and he wondered if this was another mockery or actual guilt.

 

“Do you have anything for me to bind the wound with?”

Tyelkormo cracked his neck and shook his head.

“No need. It will close up in a few hours.”

“What do you mean?”

 

Tyelko turned to look at the incredulity in Beleg's eyes, confused in his own way.

“It will close up in a few hours. It's not that deep.”

“It should at least take a day or two! How can you heal so fast–”

He interrupted himself, as if realizing something. He scoffed in good humor.

“I see. Fancy child born in fancy lands, aren't you?”

 

He passed him back the wineskin and his bloody cloth. He looked around himself before he found a comfortable spot and plopped down there.

Then, he patted the spot next to him.

Tyelkormo shook his head, picking up his pack and bow, shouldering them both.

“Told you. I've wasted enough time here. It was…not nice meeting you, but I have to go now. Ilúvatar be with you.”

 

He turned around to leave, but a call stopped him.

“Not even going to tell me your name, mysterious grandson of Míriel Therindë?”

 

Tyelkormo turned back to look at that enigma of a man, and found him grinning once more. 

He blinked, contemplating his question. He didn't look to be a servant of Moringotto. If he had been, Tyelkormo was either dead by now, or ambushed and taken like his brother.

But was it wise to reveal his identity more than he had already? 

He bit his bottom lip, and took a breath in.

“It's…it's Tyelkormo. My name's Tyelkormo Turcafinwë.”

 

Beleg seemed pleased with his answer.

“It wasn't hard, was it? Now, come here, little man. You were trying to sleep before I interrupted your rest, and given your hurry to go to whatever your destination is, you were tired enough to want to spare a few hours.

I'll stand watch and you can rest for a while. It's not wise to travel alone, but if you do, you can't just rest on unprotected grounds.”

 

Tyelkormo scowled at being reprimanded. He had learned that lesson, although harshly. 

And he didn't appreciate being schooled by this nobody who attacked unaware people and acted all high and mighty later.

“You're traveling alone too.”

Beleg chuckled.

“Yes. But I have survived this far, haven't I? Now, don't be a stubborn mule like your grandfather and lay down for a while. I will not bite. I mean, not unless you ask me to.”

 

He seemed to be appraising him from head to toe as he said that. Tyelkormo pulled his cloak closer unconsciously, and considered his options.

 

This man was really friends with his grandparents, it looked. He appeared to know them well, and named them without needing Tyelko’s knowledge. He probably wouldn't hurt him again. And Tyelkormo really needed sleep. He wouldn't have been so helpless against Beleg if he was well rested.

 

At least, he tried to believe that.

 

“You will wake me in three hours?”

He was already settling down on the soft grass.

Beleg smirked and took his bow from him.

“Sure thing, little man.”

Tyelkormo frowned, suspicious, but he was too tired to want to argue with him. He put his arm under his head, already dreading the numbness of it but preferring that to his neck aching for days.

“You want a lullaby, little man?”

“No.”

 

And it was not long before Tyelkormo was walking the dreams.

 

Notes:

Sindarin translations:

“Yé hand múl! Carón Maer, ach cenin tre gawagen!”
An intelligent thrall you are! Great actor, but I see through your disguise.

“I le? Amman le col sen thîr?”
Who are you? Why do you wear this face?

losse: A Quenyan term for Albino people.

Chapter 4: A Guide Through the Darkness Pt.2

Summary:

Tyelkormo frowned slightly. Beleg sounded grieved, but his questions spoke of something else. Tyelkormo couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
“I think I have spoken enough. You wished to know of my grandparents and their fate. I think it’s best if I take off now. I am losing time, and I’m sure you can use some privacy to process your grief, too.”

He looked at what remained of the salted venison cut, stuffed it in his mouth and stood up. He looked around himself, his eyes searching for his pack and bow and quiver. Yet even as he circled around himself, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of them. They were nowhere to be found.

He stilled as the realization dawned upon him. He turned around, but finding that mop of raven hair and the pale face across his own made him flinch and step away.

Beleg didn’t look like he wanted to cry anymore. Neither he was laughing. The kindness was gone. Instead, in his grey eyes, Tyelko could only find steel. Cold and unforgiving.

He took a step towards him. Tyelko stepped back and reached for a blade that was not there anymore.
His wide eyes found Beleg’s. The older man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.
“I believe we have more to talk about, Little Man.”

Something tickled his nose. Tyelkormo’s face scrunched up as he felt a sneeze approaching before it passed by. 

Seconds passed when he felt the same sensation in his ear. He frowned. Who could it possibly be? It felt like Írissë. Only she could be this annoying.

 

“Little Man? Aren’t you going to wake up? You asked for three hours. It’s almost time for the Morning Star to shine.”

The unfamiliar voice had his eyes snap open. He blinked, yet the darkness persisted. Then, all of a sudden, a hand was shoved in front of his face. A hand that could not in any way have belonged to Írissë. It was large like a ner’s and calloused. Nothing like the dainty and manicured fingers of his cousin.

 

Endorë…The Ships… Atya… Timo…

 

Slowly, he rose from his place and turned towards his companion, staring into those dark eyes.

 

Beleg. 

 

A second passed as they kept staring at each other. Then, Beleg winked at him. 

Tyelkormo blinked rapidly and finally looked away. He pulled his cloak closer as a cold breeze passed by, opening and closing his numb fist just to get the blood circulation back in it.

“Would you like something to eat? I…I kind of took away your game yesterday, and it’s only fair of me to share some of my own food with you. Don’t worry, it’s just some waybread and meat. Not planning to poison you. It’s not really my style.”

Tyelkormo let out a snort before he could help it and rubbed his eyes. Beleg grinned, passing him a piece of bread. It wafted a strange aroma. Delicious, but strange nonetheless.

He also passed him a piece of salted venison. Tyelko took that with a little more reluctance. He looked at Beleg and saw him wolf down his own share at a surprising speed. It finally convinced him to take a hesitant bite of the bread. The flavor…was confusing. It was sweet a moment, and savory the next and even with that small bite, he felt the sudden surge of strength in his body and mind. 

“What… ?”

He mumbled, unable to finish his sentence and took another, bigger bite. 

He heard Beleg chuckle quietly.

“First time tasting Lembas, I assume? There is mysterious magic woven in the making of it. Our queen taught Sindarin lasses how to make them.”

 

Tyelkormo managed to control himself and not shove the whole thing in his mouth at once. It was only bread, but it tasted like novelty to him. Besides, it had been months since he had anything baked. It… Tyelkormo could swear it tasted like his mother’s scones. The thought made his vigorous hunger sate and vanish. His eyes watered, and despite his best attempt, he couldn’t quite help the quiet sniffles from reaching Beleg’s ears.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and anxiously awaited the mischievous sound and teasing remarks, but they did not come. A second passed, and then another. He finally dared to look up. 

Beleg had stopped eating. He wasn’t smiling anymore. In fact, his face had come as close to sadness as Tyelkormo had ever seen.

When he saw Tyelkormo’s face, he frowned. He put away what remained of the meat and reached for something in a pack Tyelko was just noticing, and passed him a waterskin.

“Drink. It’s just water. It washes away the taste.”

 

Tyelko watched him for a while, bewildered, but finally reached out to take it. He uncapped it and took a swig. He swished the water around in his mouth before swallowing. It took a second. But the taste of scones and his mother’s hugs were gone.

He managed to swallow down the sob climbing his throat and speak his mind.

“What… what kind of magic is this?”

Beleg sighed, taking back the skin from his numb hands.

“This is army bread, especially made for soldiers who patrol our borders and are away from home for too long. It is meant to remind them of good things. Of their home and families. It’s a comfort for almost everyone I’ve ever seen. Unless you don’t want to be reminded of home…”

His voice trailed off, speaking more to himself than Tyelko. 

 

Tyelkormo didn’t dare look at him. Instead, he took a bite of the meat. This one tasted as familiar as any other salted venison he had tasted. Chewy, hard, and something he didn’t enjoy but would eat when he didn’t have much choice.

 

“Why are you here, Tyelkormo? And why now that he’s also back?”

Tyelko’s eyes snapped towards Beleg, and met his suspicious gaze. His tongue felt as heavy as a stone in his mouth. He looked away.

 

“You know, this is really weird. You, being here all by yourself. You who don't know the dangers. Finwë and Míriel would never have that. And Finwë…he would have tried to reach out to Elwë the moment he arrived. Míriel, as much as they bickered, wouldn’t have waited to see her brother. But Círdan sent word to us of arriving ships a month ago, and yet we heard not a peep from our kin who had finally returned to us. Instead, we heard news of a battle. Of a siege. Of an army of Balrogs like we have never seen before. And still, not a word from you. Are you telling me the king of Golodhrim who was known for his foresight and wisdom chose to wage war before he even attempted to see his beloved friends once again?”

 

With every word leaving Beleg’s mouth, Tyelkormo shrunk a little more into himself. He looked down to see the piece of bread crumbling under the force of his fist. He shut his eyes and let it fall to the ground.

 

“Why are you here, Tyelkormo, and where are Míriel and Finwë?”

There was no more humor to be found in his tone, and for a moment, Tyelko was reminded of how he had him pinned against that tree with a knife to his throat, and how it could easily come to that very soon.

 

He heard Beleg sigh, and next he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He jumped, leaning away from him. 

“Is it too much for me to ask for news from beloved friends I have not seen or heard of in ages, kid? Would you deprive me of it?”

 

No, it wasn't, but how…how could Tyelkormo possibly explain all that had come to pass when even he could not possibly understand it?

Indeed, what had happened? Where had it started? Was it his father's birth? Was it his grandmother's death? Was it Indis? Was it Nolofinwë? Was it…was it Moringotto?

 

“Are they…are they with you? Can I see them?”

The hope in Beleg’s voice scratched at the walls of his heart. Even if he wanted, how could Tyelko possibly lie about this?

“Not if you're lucky, no.” 

He found himself answering, and his tired eyes found those of Beleg's. Those grey eyes of his sparkled with not light, but something which had become more familiar to him.

“You don't mean to…but…how? Those lands were supposed to be safe! They were supposed to be filled with light and away from this darkness! How…how can someone die there too?”

Beleg finally looked away, but his voice, thick with emotions, had given him away. 

 

Tyelkormo pitied him as much as he understood him. It was hard to lose friends. He thought of Írissë. Of the lost friendship between them, even though his cousin still lived and breathed.

He wondered which hurt more. For if a friend was lost and the relationship intact, in the midst of grief, one could still dare hope. Tyelko had nothing to cling on to. Not after what he had done. 

 

He lightly touched the now scarred forearm, hidden under his wrist guard, and wondered if the flames of his betrayal had burned as viciously for Írissë.

 

“How…how did they die? What happened? Does it have anything to do with you returning?”

Beleg seemed more in control of his emotions. Tyelkormo scowled, feeling more than a little jealous of his coolness and composure.

He took a bite of the venison cut, just to gather time and to think of what he was supposed to say here.

And, at last, he settled for the truth, if a brief one.

“Grandmother…she passed not long after she gave birth to my father. I never knew her, and I doubt Father did either. He was very young. 

Grandfather…he remarried when father was grown. From what I heard, Grandmother didn't wish to return, and with her consent, their bond was annulled, so Grandfather was free to marry Indis of the Vanyar. She gave birth to four children. Two aunts, two uncles. You asked yesterday, and now you know.”

 

“Huh.”

Beleg looked dumbstruck, and despite his own grief, Tyelko couldn't help but feel a little smug at having been able to make him stop talking for once.

 

“And…what of Finwë?”

Tyelkormo swallowed, yet his throat still felt clogged up just like whenever he dared even think about his grandfather. His gentle and kind grandfather with sweets in his pockets just for him and Findaráto, with hugs and kisses he offered generously, and the man who Tyelkormo always counted as the warmest shoulder to rely on.

 

The same man who he had found laying in a pool of his own blood, unrecognizable if not for his mangled crown.

 

“Tyelkormo?”

He wiped his eyes dry and bit his lips.

“He…Moringotto…he killed him. He…we never saw it coming…Father wasn't home…and Grandfather told us to leave…told us he would be right behind us…but…after it all became dark…we didn't– didn’t dare leave the mountains and when we did come back…it was too late. Maybe…maybe if we had been there–”

 

A pair of hands cupped his cheeks, wiping away the tears he hadn’t noticed had escaped the tight grip of his eyelids.

“Whatever had managed to bring down that old bear wouldn’t have spared you, Little Man. Don’t blame yourself. Finwë certainly wouldn’t want you to.”

 

Tyelko wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t really believe that he could have saved his grandfather if he had been around. Yet, somehow, the guilt resisted.

He settled on an insincere nod.

 

“So, are you here to avenge him? You and your father, you said?”

 

Tyelkormo frowned slightly. Beleg sounded grieved, but his questions spoke of something else. Tyelkormo couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“I think I have spoken enough. You wished to know of my grandparents and their fate. I think it’s best if I take off now. I am losing time, and I’m sure you can use some privacy to process your grief, too.”

 

He looked at what remained of the salted venison cut, stuffed it in his mouth and stood up. He looked around himself, his eyes searching for his pack and bow and quiver. Yet even as he circled around himself, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of them. They were nowhere to be found.

 

He stilled as the realization dawned upon him. He turned around, but finding that mop of raven hair and the pale face across his own made him flinch and step away.

 

Beleg didn’t look like he wanted to cry anymore. Neither he was laughing. The kindness was gone. Instead, in his grey eyes, Tyelko could only find steel. Cold and unforgiving.

 

He took a step towards him. Tyelko stepped back and reached for a blade that was not there anymore.

His wide eyes found Beleg’s. The older man crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“I believe we have more to talk about, Little Man.”

“Why have you taken away my stuff?”

Tyelkormo heard himself whispering. His voice shook with not only fear, but also rage. Anger at this man who tricked him into trusting him, and at himself for being stupid enough to do so.

 

One could never trust, or else they would be taken.

 

One could not be like Maitimo.

 

And yet, he had. He had heard familiar names, a pair of kind and gentle eyes, and he had felt lonely and helpless enough to believe anything.

 

Beleg simply raised an eyebrow at his question before he took another step towards him.

“You and your fancy little army of elves come back after millennia, and right before you arrive, he comes back. The Hunter promised us he would remain in chains. That we will be protected. But he comes back, and brings an army to our doorsteps, slaughtering and enslaving my people. And then you come along. Things just sound a bit too coincidental to me.”

 

Then, he brandished the short blade he had taken from Tyelkormo’s belt. 

The knife had been a gift from Mahtan for his coming of age begotten day, and Tyelko had barely been parted from it. 

It was as loyal a companion as Huan was.

Seeing it in this stranger’s hand made his blood boil.

 

“Now, sit. I’ll ask my questions, then we both can be on our merry way.”

He pointed it at him. His pose didn’t appear to be threatening, but the illusion was ruined by the fact that it was Tyelkormo’s own blade being used against him, and he was unarmed.

“What are you going to do if I don’t? Kill me? Do you have it in you to slay your own kin, Cúthalion?”

His words were double edged, and if they did not cut Beleg, they certainly cut Tyelko deeply.

He rarely dared think of the Battle of the Piers, and even his anger and fear could not mask away the guilt.

Beleg’s only reaction was a cold smirk.

“No. You are free to leave, but I doubt you’ll get far enough without your pack and weapons. I do not see why you should resist as you do. Unless… you have something to hide? Any particular reasons you’re heading towards Balchon’s fortress all by yourself? Reporting back? Bearing a message in such a hurry?”

Tyelkormo was lost. Was he being accused of working with Moringotto of all people?

“Wh– You think we are working for him?! Us?! Did you even listen to a word I said?! He killed my grandfather! I would sooner die than do his bidding!”

Beleg’s eyes narrowed as Tyelkormo advanced towards him until they were face to face. He did not even flinch, and this felt like salt on the open wound of Tyelko’s pride after being bested and tricked by this man.

“How are you alive, then? I saw your camp from afar. You are not even half the numbers of my King’s army, yet you are all alive and well. How can it be?! You who have never known dangers like we had! What is special about you?! Why did we have to pay for your and your lords’ stupidity?!”

Tyelkormo didn’t know when it happened. The next moment he came to, Beleg was sprawled on the ground, a hand holding his cheek. Tyelko’s own fingers throbbed viciously, but the pain of it was insignificant compared to that of his heart.

“Your eyes have become as blind as a mole’s, dark elf, if you saw us and thought us well and alive. My grandfather, my king is gone. My father…his armour was the only thing holding his guts inside before he died. My brother is in Eru knows where, being tortured as you waste my time here. He might be dead as you keep me here, and I might be too late. You wanted to know why we have come here, and now you do. You wanted to know why I seek the dark fortress, and now you do. If your curiosity is sated, give me my belongings back. You won’t kill me, but don’t think I will hold the same reservation for you.”

 

Beleg looked at him long, and Tyelko was glad to find hints of wariness in his eyes. He looked down and after a moment, he held Tyelko’s knife towards him.

He snatched it from his hand and sheathed it. 

“The rest of your things are hidden behind that rock you slept next to.”

He heard Beleg’s quiet voice and sighed. He moved the rock over despite his doubts, and was glad to have found them. He was tired of Beleg. He was tired of his lies, and he just wanted to be on his way.

 

“Your brother…he was taken too? Imprisoned in battle?”

Beleg spoke with that same gentle tone. Yet this time, instead of feeling comforted like he had been, he was nauseated.

“Farewell, Cúthalion. I hope we never cross paths again.”

“No! Wait–!”

 

Tyelkormo paid him no mind. He simply shouldered his belongings and walked away. He didn’t get far before he felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder. He stopped abruptly, and his hand went to his blade.

“Wait– no need for that, Little Man. Just…just listen for a moment. I’m sorry…I…will you not look at me?”

He felt a tug on his free hand. He breathed out an exhausted sigh and snatched away his hand.

He heard Beleg huff, and the next moment, he was standing in front of him.

Tyelkormo scowled and looked away.

“Is it going to be like this, then? Fair enough. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. You …you are the son of my friends and I didn’t treat you like I should have. Things are changing, and they have left me unnerved as you see. You said you seek the fortress to free your brother, right?”

 

Tyelkormo spared him a single glance before he rolled his eyes and rounded the man. He looked around, trying to find the tree he had been resting against last night before this ancient local monstrosity showed up.

 

“Hey! I’m still talking!”

“Yes, I have noticed you do that a lot.” 

He spotted the tree just as he heard Beleg mumble something under his breath which sounded suspiciously like ‘brat’ to him, but he ignored it in the favor of having found his direction northeast. 

“You just can’t wait a moment and let me finish, right? I was going to offer you my help, but it seems like you are not interested.”

 

Tyelkormo stopped in his tracks. All was silent for a moment before he scoffed loudly.

“Help me? Like you watched over me and robbed me at the same time while I slept?”

“I did not rob you–”

“Or when you threatened me with my very own blade, Beleg? I don’t want the help of someone who would stab me in the back if he feels like it. Go back to whatever hell you came from and leave me be. I’ve had it with you.”

“Kid, just stop and listen for a second–By Eru you’re too much like her!

 I’m also headed that way. I, too, am going to save someone from the clutches of the enemy. There’s no catch. You watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Deal?”

 

Tyelkormo blinked and turned around, eyes wide before they narrowed in suspicion. 

“And why should I believe you? You have done nothing but lie to me since we met.”

“Why did you trust me to begin with, then? Can’t it be for the same reason? Also, I didn’t tell you any lies. I hid things just as you did, and I’m sure you still do. You trusted me to watch your back last night, and you still stand, alive. Is it not enough to vouch for me?”

“And who is going to protect me from you? Who is going to protect me when you’ve had your use of me, saved whoever you are trying to save and you don’t need me anymore? What have you given me to make me believe you actually care, Beleg?”

 

Beleg blinked at him. He looked stunned, for a moment, frowning thoughtfully the next.

He bit his lips, and for the first time since yesterday, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You will protect yourself, as I protect me and my own. You’ll swear to help me save my friend, and I’ll swear upon the green grasses of Cuiviénen to help you save your brother if I can. How’s that? A Sinda’s words are his honor. I won’t break them even if you do.”

The jab had Tyelkormo bristling.

“And I would break it? You know nothing of me, dark elf.”

Beleg’s smirk was dangerous, but he reacted to the insult with nothing more than a slight frown.

“Well, if your highness gives me a chance, I certainly can get to know you.

Well, what is it going to be? Will I get the honors of joining you?”

He took measured steps towards him, before he raised his hand for a handshake.

Tyelkormo stared at the offering for long. 

Despite what he wanted to believe, this whole encounter had shown him how little chance he had in surviving this on his own. Yes, he could decline and lick his wounded pride and feelings somewhere along the road where he, at best, was going to get mauled by some wild animal and at worst, join his brother as a prisoner. Or he could accept, and actually have a chance at bringing his king back home. He had seen how Beleg moved. He knew these lands better than him, and could become a guide for him through this darkness. And he was oathbound to help him now.

 

He looked up, and stared deeply into those dark eyes, and took Beleg’s hand.

 

 

Notes:

Haha! I hope you like the new family dynamics I've added! Do let me know what you thought in the comments!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Dream Walker