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Upon realizing he couldn’t understand
Huan, Tyelko took a few staggering steps back and then sank to his knees. The ship and the stars spun dizzyingly around him, and if he weren’t so shocked, he might have wept.
He had just lost
the one thing that no one else in his family had. The thing that made him special. The thing that made him Turcafinwë Tyelkormo.
If he couldn’t talk with the
animals now, then who was he? No one, most likely.
“
Oromë, why?” he cried out in a loud voice. “How could you do this to me? Haven’t I been through enough?”
There was no response. Typical of the
Valar, to show up to rebuke him but not to help him.
Something warm and wet brushed up against his face—Huan’s tongue. Tyelko glanced up miserably into the face of his hound, with big brown eyes staring at him so warmly and sweetly as always.
“Is this a trick?” Tyelko said bitterly. “Say something, Huan.
Say something!”
Huan only uttered some soft whimpering noises. Again, Tyelko could not understand.
Tyelko’s shock finally gave way to tears, and his body trembled as he wept.
He heard footsteps on the wooden planks of the ship, sounding as though they came from the Teler. “Go away!” Tyelko snapped. “The stars didn’t help me! You were wrong!”
“Was he, though?” The deep, resonant voice from behind didn’t sound like the Teler, and instead it was familiar. Tyelko didn’t even have to look up to recognize his master.
“So you’ve come here to gloat at me and rebuke me again? I think I get the picture, Oromë. I’m nothing but a worthless failure! I guess I don’t deserve the gift of animal speech anymore, nor do I deserve Huan. All I ask is that you stop humiliating me further, because I’ve learned my lesson. Just leave me alone and let me go my own way, and I promise I won’t be a bother to you or anyone else till the end of time.”
“Ah, Tyelkormo… you’ve learned
a lesson, but not
the lesson I’d like to teach you.” The boards creaked as Oromë sat on the floor beside Tyelko, and his voice sounded calm, but Tyelko still didn’t dare look up at him. “What, exactly, do you feel you’ve learned?”
“That I’m a worthless failure.”
Tyelko could practically hear Oromë frown through his disapproving hum. “No, that is not true. No one is a failure or worthless so long as they are alive. And aside from the inherent value you carry simply for being one of the Firstborn of
Ilúvatar, you also have many worthy achievements of your own. For example, if it weren’t for you and your quick action, your brother might very well have gone to the
Halls of Mandos.”
Tyelko paused and lifted his head a little. Oromë rarely gave out compliments. Most of his hunting students were excited enough to simply get a silent nod of approval from him. But still, a compliment from Oromë, even if it was a rare occurrence, wasn’t a magical solution to his grief and anger.
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to drag his bloodied body up from the cliff if I had sensed what Morirámo was up to,” Tyelko said in a harsh and bitter voice. “Or, better yet, if you had shown up and stopped the whole thing from happening in the first place!”
“Let me ask you something,” said Oromë. “What ultimately happened to your brother
Nelyafinwë?”
“He was taken to the house of my grandfather in time, before he could bleed out. And he started to heal, but then Atar decided Timo needed to be at home rather than at Haru’s house, and he made everything worse—”
“But ultimately, is he alive? Is he healing?”
Tyelko nodded slowly, suddenly confused as to where Oromë was going with this.
“Then that is a mercy from
Eru. Nelyafinwë could have perished that day, but
Eru Ilúvatar used you and your particular giftings to ensure he lived.”
Tyelko was silent for a long moment. Yes, that was true. Eru wasn’t obligated to keep all the
Elves alive and safe. But then again, wouldn’t it have made Eru an
evil and cruel force, like
Melkor, if He did nothing to protect the very children He claimed to love?
But He didn’t do nothing. He put Tyelko there, and Curvo, who was also an essential part of
Maitimo’s rescue thanks to his knowledge of how to tie secure knots.
As if he knew Tyelko’s thoughts, Oromë continued, “Do you, the Eldar, or even we, the Valar, have any right to define how much mercy Eru must show us?”
“No,” Tyelko conceded. “But frankly, that doesn’t make me like Eru, or you and the other Valar, any better. It just makes me understand you’re more powerful than me and I’m stuck with you.”
For the first time, Tyelko glanced over at Oromë’s face, somewhat nervous to see his reaction. He had never spoken so brazenly against his master before—except on the day when he struck Morirámo, that is—and now he had openly admitted his dislike for the Valar and even Eru.
Stupid, stupid choice of words, he scolded himself.
They could strike you dead! It’s safer to pretend to like them and begrudgingly obey them!
But to his shock, the grim-faced Oromë was smiling.
“That isn’t untrue,” he said. “We are more powerful than you and you are stuck with us. Well then, it’s a good thing that we care for you, isn’t it?”
“I sure haven’t
felt like you care for me!” Tyelko jumped to his feet, his face flushing with anger. “After what you let me go through these past few days! And especially taking away my animal speech…” His lip quivered, and he swallowed back tears.
“Do you want it back?”
The proud part of Tyelko’s heart wanted to declare he was perfectly fine without his gift. That he didn’t want anything to do with Oromë or the other Valar anymore. He didn’t want to have to submit to whatever game Oromë was playing with him to get the gift back.
But he found himself nodding. Perhaps, if nothing else, for Huan’s sake. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to join Oromë’s hunters anymore, and he had to give up Huan, he at least yearned to say goodbye to him properly.
“Then walk with me.” Oromë stood and headed towards the dock. “Learn from me, as you once did, and you will understand the animals again sooner than you know. Do you agree to this?”
Tyelko wasn’t sure he fully agreed in his heart yet, but he nodded anyway, and he and Huan followed Oromë.
But before they left the ship, Oromë raised his hand in farewell to the Teler sailor, who had climbed high up on the rigging to polish some of the higher beams of the sails. The Teler nodded deeply in return, and smiled at Tyelko, who ducked his head in shame.
“Perhaps after our journey, you will understand how it helped you after all to gaze upon the stars.” Oromë looked totally out of place in this ethereal, silvery
city. The Teleri were all draped in sleek white and silver robes, with straight or wavy hair neatly arranged or tied back. And here was Oromë in his usual furs and leather, and his curly brown hair and beard, and his muscular arms clearly visible thanks to his sleeveless tunic. If Tyelko weren’t so upset, he would have laughed. Yet somehow, Oromë didn’t seem bothered by the curious stares he earned from the Teleri they passed.
“We can stay here tonight,” Oromë said. “Make camp just outside the city.”
Tyelko shook his head firmly. “I’m not tired,” he declared. This was true, but it also wasn’t. His muscles were a little sore from fatigue, but his mind was so restless that he knew he wouldn’t have been able to go to sleep.
Oromë gazed at him with an unreadable expression. “If you insist. We shall head south, then, to my woods.”
* * *
Oromë and Tyelko rode south for a few hours, traveling at a swift pace. Tyelko didn’t feel at all worthy of riding Huan, and the idea of riding without being able to communicate with him made Tyelko anxious. But Oromë insisted, so Tyelko reluctantly obeyed.
The familiar feel of Huan’s coarse fur, and the view of his head bobbing back and forth as he ran, took Tyelko back to much fonder times. For a few minutes, it felt as though none of these things had happened. He and Huan were just out riding with Oromë again, chasing some stag or another.
And Oromë rode alongside them on a massive
horse, whose shoulders would have been above Maitimo’s head. Even the mighty
Vala of hunting with his height and muscular figure looked small against his giant steed.
Oromë repeatedly asked Tyelko if he needed to stop and rest. Each time, Tyelko insisted he was fine, though this answer became increasingly untrue as the night hours wore on.
Eventually, Oromë halted and declared he needed rest, even if Tyelko didn’t.
“You’re lying,” Tyelko huffed, his lip curling in a pout. “You’re just saying that to try to make me sleep. You’re a Vala! You can appear anywhere you want, like you did when I was yelling at you earlier!”
“I can indeed do that, young one, but I’m not lying. I have a physical fana, and it wearies after a long day of hunting and journeying. And so, too, does your hröa weary.”
He put a firm hand on Tyelko’s shoulder before arranging two bedrolls of fur on the ground, and climbing into one of them. “Now, you can stay awake and keep watch with my horse if you’d like. Or you can rest so you have strength for the tasks I give you tomorrow.”
“I’ll keep watch, thanks,” Tyelko retorted, folding his arms and leaning against a tree.
He stood there for some time, and it wasn’t long before Oromë’s breathing turned deep and rhythmic. Tyelko’s eyes burned as he fought to stay awake.
A soft nose bumped against his shoulder. He turned to see Huan, wagging his tail slightly. Then Huan curled up on the ground and stared up at Tyelko with his usual soft, sweet gaze.
Maybe it was because Tyelko’s eyes were tired and sore, but he found them welling up with tears. Though he couldn’t understand Huan’s speech anymore, he realized if he could, Huan was likely saying,
Come cuddle with Huan, Tyelko.
“Leave it to you to think of cuddling at a time like this,” Tyelko muttered. The only other person he knew, besides himself and Huan, who loved cuddling that much, was Timo. And yet ironically, Timo didn’t appreciate Huan’s cuddling that much. Perhaps because it was typically accompanied by copious amounts of drool.
But then again… little brothers had been drooling all over Timo ever since Laurë was born, and that certainly didn’t diminish his enjoyment of their cuddling.
These thoughts made Tyelko’s tears flow all the more freely, but they also made the idea of sleep seem rather enticing. Eventually he could no longer resist the urge to snuggle against Huan’s furry hide, and he curled up against him and fell asleep.
* * *
The savory smell of rabbit cooking over a fire stirred Tyelko awake. Beams of early mingling light shone in dappled patterns amongst the leaves of the
trees. The light was mostly silver still, but fading, and dotted with glimmers of gold.
Despite only having slept a few short hours, and his eyes still feeling heavy and sore, Tyelko arose easily, since he normally went out hunting at this hour.
Huan lay perfectly still, clearly trying his best not to disturb Tyelko. But based on the way he sniffed the air, he seemingly struggled to remain still thanks to the tantalizing scent of the cooking meat.
To Tyelko’s great surprise, a hopeful thought came to his mind.
I can still understand Huan a little.
Still, this wasn’t much comfort when the chattering of the
birds sounded to him like meaningless noise, and not typical bird gossip about bugs they’d found or good
places to nest.
“Come eat, my boy.” Oromë gestured for Tyelko to come join him as he rotated the rabbit meat on a spit. “You must be famished.”
If this were last night, Tyelko would have put up a fuss and refused to take any
food from Oromë. But he couldn’t ignore the growling of his stomach, and so he sat by his master and gratefully accepted a cut of meat. Huan sprang up like a loosed
arrow, and Oromë smiled as he tossed him a few pieces.
“We have only a few hours yet before we arrive in my woods,” Oromë explained. “We should arrive by mid-morning.”
“Really?” Tyelko frowned in concentration as he chewed on his meat. “But I thought your woods would have been at least a full day’s journey from Alqualondë, and we didn’t ride very long last night.”
“We have traveled swifter than you think.” Tyelko’s confusion only deepened, because he knew Huan could only run so fast, but Oromë promptly changed the subject. “Now, I cannot tell you what we will encounter upon our arrival, or what I will ask you to do. However, I ask for your obedience, which will not be for my benefit, but for yours. If I give you a command, do I have your word that you will obey?”
Tyelko didn’t like this: promising obedience when he didn’t know exactly what command he would have to obey. Still, it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice if he wanted his animal speech back. Besides, what was the worst he could encounter at the
Woods of Oromë? Probably some of the other hunting students, who would surely laugh and scoff once they discovered Tyelko’s sorry new state. It would be humiliating, but it was a humiliation he deserved. The sooner he faced it, the sooner he could regain his gift.
“I’ll try,” was the most honest answer he could give to Oromë.
The Vala nodded in satisfaction, and not too long afterwards, they set out and rode swiftly southwards.
Tyelko had always gotten excited whenever he noticed the trees getting bigger and taller whenever he rode further south, and the animals appearing larger than usual. This was how he always knew he was nearing Oromë’s woods. But now, rather than his usual excitement, he only felt guilt and dread.
The trunks of these trees were so thick that Tyelko and Maitimo couldn’t have touched each other’s fingertips if they wrapped their arms around them. And they were so tall that Tyelko could only see the top if he lay on the ground. Their branches sprawled with a rich covering of dark green leaves, housing bird nests which were bigger than a washing bowl. These enormous nests were home to large birds like falcons and hawks. If one waited long enough, one might catch a glimpse of a stag running by, and these great stags were often larger than
horses.
Tyelko remembered the first time Oromë had asked him to kill a stag. He had cried, because the creature was so noble and beautiful. But Oromë reminded him it was for the good of the rest of the forest, because if the deer grew too great in number, they would graze too much and drive out other animals like the birds and squirrels.
Wolves were necessary for the health of the forest. As were hunters.
Normally the great trees and giant animals felt like wise guardians welcoming Tyelkormo home. Now, they felt stern and foreboding, looking down on him with disapproval.
Oromë took him through the camp, where deerskin tents and smoldering firepits were everywhere to be seen. The other hunters, all Eldar from all over Valinórë, and of varying
ages and heights and hair colors, hauled in their morning kills and cleaned their
weapons. Tyelko avoided all their gazes.
“Can we just get it over with already?” he mumbled to Oromë.
“I have not taken you to see the other hunters, my boy.”
Oromë led him through the camp and to its outskirts. Tyelko jumped as he recognized a tent: a huge rectangular tent, as big as a small house, with familiar red banners hanging from its
walls.
“What’s my family doing here?” he asked, his voice tense. He unconsciously clenched his fists.
“Stay calm and trust me, Tyelkormo. I will guide you through this.”
Sure enough, Fëanáro,
Nerdanel, and five brothers were gathered outside the tent, sitting in a circle and seeming to discuss something. The Ambarussar were the first to notice Tyelko and Oromë’s arrival. With a shout of joy, they jumped to their feet, rushed to Tyelko, and tackled him to the ground with a hug.
“Tyelko, Tyelko!” Pityo cried. “We were so worried! Where have you been?”
Despite Tyelko’s anger and suspicion towards his family, his eyes burned with tears, and he held the twins tightly to his chest.
But out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the people he really didn’t want to talk to: his parents, and Makalaurë. And upon noticing Curufinwë arriving with the group, Tyelko closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to face his favorite brother after all this.
“Turcafinwë!” Fëanáro was the first to speak, and Tyelko was surprised to detect a certain amount of warmth and relief in his father’s voice. That didn’t last, though, as his tone grew suddenly angry. “We’ve been searching for you since yesterday morning—”
“Tyelkormo will explain everything if given a few moments of patience and understanding,” Oromë interrupted. His voice was perhaps the only one even deeper and more resonant than that of Fëanáro. “I ask you all to withhold your anger and listen quietly.”
Fëanáro’s eyes glinted like a diamond in the firelight, and he opened his mouth as though to speak, but Nerdanel placed a hand on his arm and quietly shook her head. This, to Tyelko’s great surprise, seemed to be enough to keep Fëanáro silent.
“Let us all sit by the fire and let Tyelkormo speak,” said Oromë.
Everyone agreed, and returned to their spots around the fire, but Tyelko lagged behind and trailed after Oromë. “Do I have to tell them
everything?” he whispered. “About Morirámo, and my gift and all?”
“That grievance is between you and me, and I will not force you to explain it to them. But they deserve some understanding of your grief regarding Nelyafinwë, and the feelings which caused you to leave.”
Tyelko sighed deeply. Though he didn’t like it, he knew deep down Oromë was right. So, though he still couldn’t look his family members in the eye, he joined them and sat next to Oromë.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” he said.
“Chronological order would likely be easiest,” Moryo offered. “Start with the morning you left, perhaps. What were you doing?”
I was trying to hunt down Morirámo. “I was… hunting,” Tyelko said, and mentally kicked himself for how much it sounded like a lie. “I mean, I was trying to hunt something I shouldn’t have been. Something forbidden for hunters to harm. I had been spending a few days looking for this… this creature, and it was wrong of me. I thought it would make me feel better once I caught it. But, it didn’t.”
A memory flashed into Tyelko’s mind of Morirámo squealing, his ears pointed backwards, and the whites of his eyes showing. All signs of a terrified horse. All because of Tyelkormo and his hasty anger.
“Oromë came to rebuke me.” Tyelko forced his voice to remain even, and he kept his head bowed and his hair hanging in front of his face so hopefully no one would see his red eyes. “I didn’t want to hear it, even though I knew I was wrong. I didn’t think I could face anyone ever again, so I ran. I went first to Alqualondë, because I wanted to leave.
Really leave.”
He didn’t have to look up to know everyone was staring at him. If all the Fëanorians were silent for once in their lives, they must have been shocked indeed.
“You mean… go across the sea?” Telvo cried. “But how would you have done it?”
“I couldn’t. That’s why I didn’t. Maybe if I had help, I could have, but I was alone… all alone except for… for Huan…”
He couldn’t resist his tears anymore, and Nerdanel quickly jumped up and threw her arms around him, holding his head close to her chest and stroking his hair. In that moment, Tyelko forgot why he should have been mad at his mother at all, and he held her tightly as he wept.
The twins also rushed over and joined in on the embrace. And there was one more redhead who would have done the same thing if he were here, and this made Tyelko cry all the harder.
“Where’s Timo?” he asked after a long moment, extracting himself from the hugs and wiping the tears away from his face.
“He’s at home,” Pityo said cheerfully. “Waiting for us.”
“Hopefully,” Laurë muttered dryly.
“Wait, what do you mean
hopefully?” Tyelko cried, jumping to his feet.
“Well, because we were supposed to return to him by the mingling last night. He has no idea where we are right now, and I only
hope he has not succumbed to his anxiety.” Laurë shot a nasty glare at Fëanáro, who glowered at him in return.
“Nelyafinwë has enough intelligence to not do anything stupid. You have no place to question my judgement!”
Tyelko groaned loudly, and his tears dried up as hot anger burned in his heart. “How could you all do this to him? He’s out looking for us right now, I know it! And maybe his wounds got reopened, and then some wolves smelled his blood—”
“How do you know that?” Curvo asked, his voice testy. This was the first time he had spoken since Tyelko’s arrival.
Tyelko looked long and hard at the varying looks of worry and confusion in all his family members’ eyes. “Because I’d do the same thing if I were him!”
His heart crashed into the pit of his stomach as a horrible realization came to him. Yes, his family could fairly be blamed, but ultimately, this was all Tyelko’s fault.
“If I hadn’t run away, none of you would be out here looking for me, and Timo wouldn’t have gone out either, and now he probably got hurt because of me
again!”
He felt just about ready to bolt from the scene and look for Maitimo himself. This, unlike his hunt for Morirámo, would have been a worthy chase. He owed it to his brother whom he had now hurt twice. Assuming he wasn’t too late…
But just as his muscles tensed up, preparing for sudden movement, Oromë put a firm hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
“Fear not for Nelyafinwë. He is safe.” Oromë’s resonant voice cut through all the anxious murmuring amongst the family and silenced them. “However, Tyelkormo and Makalaurë are both correct in their judgment. Maitimo could not bear the worry of his entire family being missing, and he set out on his own search. I guided his horse to take him to a safe place. After all is resolved here, you must discover for yourselves where that safe place is.”
Now Fëanáro’s face drained white, and Makalaurë’s reddened with rage. Nerdanel closed her eyes, and tears trickled down her cheeks.
“I wish you all not to argue with each other and accuse each other of wrongdoing,” Oromë said. “Each of you thought you were doing what was best, and you must allow each other grace for your motives. Before anyone departs, I would like you all to admit your wrongs. And Nelyafinwë was not the only person wronged. Fëanáro, as the leader of your House, would you be the first to speak?”
“If this is true…” Fëanáro’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and he looked at Oromë with a pleading gaze, as though begging him for some reassurance, but Oromë was silent. “If this is true, then I have erred twice and harmed Nelyafinwë twice. First by removing him from my father’s House too soon, and then by leaving him alone to worry. I realize now I could have sent one of my sons back home yesterday to tell him the news.”
Oromë nodded in stern approval. “Very true. Is there anyone else here who deserves a word of repentance?”
Fëanáro turned and smiled sadly at Nerdanel. “My wise wife tried to dissuade me at the
House of Finwë, and I did not listen to her. Perhaps this was why she did not speak up against me yesterday.”
“I did not wish you to feel I was opposing you.” Nerdanel reached out and took his hands. “I knew you were doing what you thought best for our family, though in my heart I disagreed. Still, for Maitimo’s sake, I wish I had followed my heart.”
Then she turned to Tyelko, left Fëanáro and embraced him. “And I wish I had known how your heart was hurting, love. I am sorry I did not seek you out, even though I knew this accident was particularly troubling to you. Will you forgive me?”
Tyelko couldn’t help but smile as she wiped the last few tears from his cheeks. “I forgive you, Ammë. And I’m sorry I was… such a brat.”
“You were acting out of love for your brother. I can hardly fault you for that. It brings such joy to my mother’s heart that my sons love each other so much.”
After Nerdanel pulled away from Tyelko, Oromë addressed the group once more. “Does anyone else have any words of repentance to share?”
Tyelko noticed Oromë looking long and hard at Makalaurë, but he remained moodily silent.
And there was someone else who remained in moody silence. Curvo.
Only then did Tyelko realize how nasty he had been to his favorite brother lately. In the days while Tyelko had been hunting, Curvo had been asking a bunch of questions, which had seemed nosy and irritating to Tyelko at the time, but now he realized Curvo must have been concerned for him and trying to help. And Tyelko had refused to let him.
If Tyelko knew Curvo, he needed a conversation in private, not with family members breathing down their necks.
“I want to talk to Curvo,” Tyelko whispered to Oromë. “Alone.”
Oromë nodded in agreement. “I would like someone skilled to sharpen a rather dull blade I have,” he said to the group. “Curufinwë, would you come with me and Tyelkormo?”
He nodded dully, still staring at the ground, and Tyelko’s heart twinged with guilt as Oromë led them to his armory. This place was a great stone hall, with walls and shelves stacked with spears and
bows and arrows and
daggers. Oromë handed a large hunting
knife and a sharpening rock to Curvo, and then left the hall.
Curvo halfheartedly scraped at the blade, his movements lacking their normal concentration and efficiency.
“I’ve been a brat to you too,” Tyelko blurted.
“I’ve noticed,” Curvo said dryly.
“I was annoyed with all your questions, I have to admit.” Tyelko watched as Curvo scowled deeply, and a spark flew as he delivered a fierce stroke with the blade. “But I think I get it now. You were just wanting to help me, right?”
“Everyone expected me to have all the answers about you.” Curvo finally glanced up and regarded him with an icy stare, identical to Fëanáro’s. “As though I can read your mind, when… I can’t, Tyelko! I only know so much about you because you tell me everything. Or, you
used to, anyway.”
Now it was Tyelko’s turn to drop his gaze to the floor. Curvo sighed, and his tone softened a little. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? You know I wouldn’t have judged you, right? I know how it is to be angry, even though I’m maybe not as impulsive in my anger as you are. But… I would have cared. And probably understood better than someone like Nelyo who’s perfectly nice all the time.”
“Are you calling me not nice? …Because, you’re not wrong.”
Curvo’s frown faded to a hint of a grin.
Tyelko paused for a moment as he thought about why he had refused to tell Curvo anything. “I don’t really know why I was so angry about your questioning. Don’t feel bad for not being able to read my mind, because I don’t understand what I’m thinking or feeling half the time either. Maybe I was just scared of being found out because I knew I was doing something wrong.”
He took a deep breath as he realized in that moment what he needed to do.
“In fact… Oromë said I didn’t need to tell anyone in my family about this. But I think you deserve to know.”
So he started explaining everything from the moment Maitimo fainted when getting out of the carriage, and how it made Tyelko thirst for revenge against Morirámo. He described the process of his hunt, and how he eventually found, and struck, Morirámo. He told Curvo how Oromë had confronted him, and how he had run away and then finally, lost his gift.
Tyelko thought surely he would have run out of tears by now, but apparently not. And even Curvo’s eyes were red and glassy by the time Tyelko finished.
“Well,” Curvo said, blinking rapidly and seemingly trying to hide his tears, “looks like we’ve got work to do. We need to work on getting your gift back.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to do with Oromë, but I don’t know how. He’ll tell me, I guess. But it’s not going to be easy, I’m sure.”
“If you need some extra help practicing—” Curvo regarded Tyelko with a stone-serious gaze— “I will do my very best to impersonate a bird.”
Tyelko burst out laughing so hard that he doubled over.
“You know, Curvo, I’d
love to see your best attempt at that.”
They emerged from the armory, laughing heartily, and Curvo carrying the finely sharpened blade. And they discovered the rest of their family tacking up their horses, preparing to leave. Their tent was disassembled and its parts loaded up into several bags, which the horses bore on their backs. Oromë accepted his blade back from Curvo with a nod of thanks, and he sheathed it in its scabbard.
Tyelko turned to Oromë. “Can I go with them? I really want to see Timo.”
“Not yet, but you will get your chance sooner than you think. I have another task for you, should you accept it. It is something you must do alone.”
Tyelko nodded slowly and noticed Curvo’s smile fade. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. And you’d better be working on your bird impression in the meantime.”
“Oh, I think I’ve already got some ideas.” Curvo let out an unearthly screech, which Tyelko had no idea was possible to come out of his little brother’s lungs. Rustling noises of flapping wings, and squawking sounds, came from the nearby trees as hundreds of birds took off and flew away in fear.
Tyelko and Curvo burst out laughing once more. “I think… I think I can translate that one,” Tyelko wheezed. “You just told them you are the most unhinged bird to ever exist.”
“Is that wrong, though?”
“Curufinwë!” Fëanáro’s voice roared out from where he sat on his horse. “Are you coming?”
Curvo sighed and nodded. But before he could leave, Tyelko threw his arms around him and squeezed him tightly, which he tolerated in silence.
“Goodbye to you too,” Curvo said flatly. “I’d like to be able to breathe now, Tyelko.”
“Picky, picky.” Tyelko released him, and he returned to the others.
As the family rode off into the forest, Tyelko felt like he had been carrying a heavy, half-rotten deer carcass for too long. And now, he had finally put it down.
“What’s next? Do I have to face the other hunters now?” he asked Oromë.
Oromë chuckled and shook his head. “That was never part of my plan. There is someone else I wish you to seek out.”
Tyelko kept trying to ask Oromë for more details as they rode north for some ways, but Oromë remained silent, so eventually Tyelko gave up. After a while, they came to a large clearing. A familiar black horse stood grazing in the distance. Upon seeing the newcomers arrive, the horse jerked his head up, and he galloped off and disappeared.
Tyelko’s face paled. “No, Lord Oromë, I’m not ready to face Morirámo yet. He clearly still hates me, and with good reason!”
“You may take as much time as you need. You must win back his trust on your own merits, and without any direct aid from me.”
“How am I supposed to do that if I can’t even talk to him?”
“How do those without animal speech manage to tame horses? Now go, track him, before he gets too far ahead!”
Tyelko sighed heavily and scratched Huan behind his ears, which was his favorite spot. “Well, if Master won’t help me with this one, will you help me, old buddy?”
Huan gave a happy bark in response, and bounded after the horse’s scent.
Despite all the stress of the last few days, and despite the loss of his gift, the rushing of the wind in his hair and the sound of Huan’s panting and bounding pawsteps made Tyelko feel like his old self again. He and Huan were on a hunt. And not a bad sort of hunt, but a good and worthy one.
He had no idea what he was doing, but then again, Turcafinwë Tyelkormo rarely knew what he was doing. With Huan’s help, he would find a way to make this right.
Notes:
Fana: the physical body of a Vala.
Hröa: the physical body of an Elf.
