Fanfic One Man In The Shadows

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

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 of 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 think 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 butt 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 which none 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 work to do.




(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 2: This Is A Goodbye​

“Tyelko?”

Tyelkormo glanced up. 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 ran I did. I run 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.




(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 3: A Guide Through the Darkness Pt. 1​

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.




________________________


Translation of the Sindarin parts:


“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?
(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 4: A Guide Through The Darkness Pt.2​

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.



(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 5: The Heart Beating Inside​

“Are you still set on ignoring me, Little Man?”



Tyelkormo kept making strikes with the flint, and he smiled faintly after the small flame came to life.

“You’re being too cold to me, Tyelkormo. My heart is wounded.”

Tyelko remained silent, but he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at the theatrics.



It had been two unfortunate days since he had resumed his journey with this new companion of his. And two days since he had found this hidden urge to bang his head against a dull object within himself. Beleg didn’t seem capable of shutting up, and coming from someone like Tyelkormo, that was saying something. He kept going on and on about everything, from how nice the weather was at nights (Tyelkormo still couldn’t tell night and day stars apart) to a singing critter, and finally, asking questions about Tyelko and his life, but being left unanswered.



Tyelkormo still didn’t talk to him unless absolutely necessary. One might have called it petty, but to him, it was justified. He might have trusted Beleg to watch his back on this mission, but he didn’t trust him with his secrets.



“Such a mouthful, though. Tyelkormo. I am guessing it’s your mother-name, right? Your mother wouldn’t have named you something Finwë, but your father sounds like he might have.

What does it mean? Does it have a nickname I can use? It would be exhausting to keep saying your full name all day.”

“Then don’t.”



Beleg cackled.

“Oh! So he speaks.”



Tyelkormo ignored the comment with as much grace he could muster, which was a lot.

“Let me guess. Tyelka? Tyelko? Oh! Perhaps it’s Turca from your father-name.”

With every ridiculous name coming out of Beleg’s mouth, the crease between his brows deepened a little more.

He turned, throwing a vicious glare at his companion, which only seemed to further delight him.

“Come on! Don’t be so sour. We’ve still got a long way to go, and you can’t possibly ignore me completely.”

“Watch me.”

“Well you aren’t doing such a good job. You just responded to me. I think it’s the overflowing sass again. You just can’t contain it for long.”

Then, a mischievous smile lit up his whole face. Tyelkormo couldn’t help dread the following words.

“Or perhaps you just can’t keep your resolve because I’m so charming. Oh, don’t blame yourself. I’m a man of many charms. No one can resist me even if they try.”

“Whoever made you believe that did you a grave injustice.”



Instead of looking insulted, the Sinda snorted.

“You’re adorable, Little Man. Even your insults are princely and full of grace.”



For a second, Tyelko was stunned. He couldn’t believe this man’s audacity. Then, his eyes fell on Beleg’s. There was mischief there, but they looked expectant as well. Waiting for him to respond just so he could entertain himself with some banter.

Well, Tyelko was more than eager to disappoint him.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the fire, making sure the small ember of warmth would not die.



He heard Beleg huff in amusement and went back to skinning the rabbit Tyelko had hunted.



Despite his difficulty with seeing the creature, his arrow had flown true, and the rabbit had died quickly and painlessly. He remembered the quiet and impressed look Beleg had sent his way, and couldn’t help but blush a little. Despite his annoying personality, the man was clearly a skilled woodsman and warrior, and his approval was not sought but appreciated nonetheless.



“Do you have some salt I can season this with? I had no intention of hunting, so I only brought dry food with me.”



Tyelko blinked, coming back to reality, and found the said man looking at him. He gave a short nod and pointed at his pack.

“It’s a green pouch in my bag.”



He secured the fire with some logs and stood up, before finding himself a comfortable place close by where it was warm and protected from the roaring wind. He leaned against the tree, and watched half-heartedly as Beleg coated the skinned and gutted rabbit with salt, binded it to a stick and secured it over the fire. He frowned, not remembering when Beleg had found all these extra sticks to begin with, but didn’t care enough to ask. It wasn’t worth the conversation he knew would follow, nor him teasing him about whatever he found funny.



“So…this brother of yours, what does he look like? I need to know that much, I think.”

Tyelko blinked and turned to find Beleg already staring at him.

“What does your friend look like?”

Beleg raised an eyebrow, his ever-present smile dimming a little. It made Tyelkormo squirm in his place, feeling awkward and bad all of a sudden. Sadness didn't sit well on Beleg, and Tyelko didn't want to be the cause of it.

“A lot like you, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

Beleg turned the skewer, moving a little closer to the fire as he did so. Tyelko couldn't see his face anymore.

“My friend is called…well, I think I should ask how well you know of your granduncles. How much have Finwë and Olwë told you of their brothers?”



Tyelkormo was taken aback by the question, and as always, the name of the lord of Teleri made the hair at the back of his neck rise. He didn't want to think about him. Had no reason to. He had barely seen the man here and there, as he rarely set foot in Tirion since his sister had passed.



And Finwë…his Haru rarely spoke of his past, for his past meant the time with Míriel, and the thought of her meant pain and guilt he didn't wish to be reminded of.



Of course, he had heard Elwë’s name many times. Of how he disappeared into thin air after meeting with Haru Finwë and was never seen again. And how Haru seemed to carry another burden on his shoulder for the demise of that man too.



But…

Beleg had mentioned the name before.



And Finwë…he would have tried to reach out to Elwë the moment he arrived…



So, that meant he was alive. Was he perhaps the King Beleg was referring to?



“Not much. I have heard of Lord Elwë and how he was one of the three ambassadors and how he…disappeared. I don't know King Olwë very well. He rarely came to our city after my grandmother passed, and my grandfather didn't like talking about his past. I guess that is why I never heard your name either. Would have known to avoid you, otherwise.”

Beleg huffed, offended, but seeing the small smile in the corner of Tyelko’s lips seemed to have softened the blow a little, as he didn’t retaliate.



“Nothing of Elmo, then?”

Tyelkormo frowned. He had never heard that name before. His grandmother had two brothers, as far as he knew. Elwë, her twin, who was supposed to be lost to them as far as he knew, and Olwë, the King of sea elves.

“Who is he? A cousin?”



Beleg looked…angry. And hurt. He scoffed, looking down on his lap before his attention was taken away by the meat on the fire. He turned it around a few times before he sighed and ran a hand across his face.

“They…how could they forget us so easily?”

Tyelkormo’s frown deepened, concern evident on his face despite his best effort to hide it.

“My family is…you should not try to figure it out. It was better not to bring up sore spots, and my grandmother was one of them. I think you counted among them too.”

He looked up to find Beleg looking at him, some of his hurt masked under his surprise. Tyelkormo was also taken aback by his own words. Why had he tried to comfort Beleg? He didn’t know, and he didn’t know why he didn’t stop at that either.

“My grandfather was a kind man. Gentle and loving. He was never unfair to me, but I could see how looking at me pained him, as it did Indis. He loved his second wife, but I don’t think he ever stopped loving her. He tried to make up for it by favoring my father among his other children, but it was only opening more wounds instead of salvaging the others. My father and his siblings were never close, but Grandfather spent his entire life denying the truth in front of his eyes by trying to force them to get along. You can imagine how well it went, and how he could do nothing but try to keep the peace and rule over a nation all the while. It left little chance or a space of mind in which he could think of old friends he had left behind.”



By then, Beleg was smiling. It differed from his usual grins which were full of mischief. This one was soft, just a gentle curve of his lips.

Tyelko, as if realizing just what he had done then, looked away, his cheeks feeling warm all of a sudden.

So much for ignoring Beleg.



“Well, do you want to know more about them, then? Your uncles and cousins. The night is young, and this rabbit will take a while before it's cooked. Don’t want to give my Little Man stomach bugs here.”



Tyelkormo simply nodded, just so he wouldn’t have to speak.



“Well, for starters, guess what? We did find Elwë, and a little something more. Someone, to be precise. We searched for years and years, a long time after Olwë left with the Lord of Waters and most of our people. We had all but lost hope, and we had turned towards Elmo for guidance and leadership. He was so young, then, barely an adult when we had started our journey west. Having your siblings watching over you your whole life and being left alone all of a sudden…it wasn’t easy.”



A vicious pain in his heart made him flinch. He thought of Maitimo, of his reassuring smiles and warm hugs which was the only thing keeping him warm when Uinen’s wound would reopen with every storm and every clash of their ships. He thought of Makalaurë and his soft voice and the tune of his harp, the only thing able to calm Pityo enough to let him fall asleep. He did not know this Elmo, yet the kinship he felt towards him was stronger than the elf could imagine.



“And when we had just given up on him, Elwë finally showed up. He called himself Elu Thingol, as it had become in our tongue, and with him he had brought us a bride and his queen. And she was …well, different than you would expect.”

“How so?”



Beleg smirked at something he found funny, and Tyelkormo felt his guard rising as it did whenever Beleg smiled like that.

“She was a Maia.”

“...What?!”



Beleg chuckled at the look on Tyelko’s face and turned the rabbit over.

“I gather it’s not a common practice where you are from?”

“Is it here?!”

“Oh Eru, you should see your face!”

Beleg cackled, and for a moment Tyelkormo feared he would fall into the fire. He glared at him, yet the smile blooming across his face betrayed his true feelings.

“You…that wasn’t funny.”

“I beg to differ. I think it was hilarious.”



Tyelko huffed and leaned back, pulling his cloak close as a cold gust of wind passed by.

“Is it always so cold here?”



He looked up at Beleg when he got no answer, and found him to be frowning darkly. He shook his head, throwing a wary glance at his surroundings.

“The winters were brutal, but in spring, we always had flowers, and in summer there were fruits aplenty. But ever since he came back, even the weather seems to be against us. It has been winter all year long, and even the girdle fails to protect us from this cold. I wondered what could have been the cause. Our queen does not speak much, but I know she knows some things. And I also know if it was for us to know, she would have said something. All we can do is to wait this out. This, too, shall pass.”



Tyelkormo looked down, his brows furrowed deeply. Could it be the trees? Could it be their death which had brought death to this land too? If so, could retrieving the jewels help bring them back and save their kind?



“You know something too, don’t you? I know that look on your face.”

He looked up, blinking as he was snapped out of his thoughts.

Beleg was looking at him with the same suspicious frown. He breathed out and moved closer to the fire and Beleg.

“A speculation. Nothing more.”

He shivered at the sudden warmth he felt in his chest. He looked down with a frown, not quite sure where this burning feeling was coming from.

Beleg reached out and took his hands in his own warmer ones. Tyelko had only just realized how cold he was.

“Then I shall take it. Better than nothing.”

Beleg squeezed his hands and let go, and Tyelko sighed at the loss of warmth.

“The Two Trees…the source of light in Valinore…something sucked them dry. All of a sudden, it was all darkness and everything was just so…so cold. It was then when grandfather was murdered, and we only found him when we were able to light some torches. I think, even if their light didn’t reach these lands, they were keeping things warm and alive. Moringotto is powerful, but even he cannot overpower the creations of Yavanna that easily.”



“Is that another reason you left?”

Tyelkromo shrugged.

“One of many–”

His chest burned again, the warmth of it bordering on painful this time. He bit his lips and exhaled, his words cut short. The pain was gone in the blink of an eye.



He looked at Beleg who bore an unfathomable look on his face. A second passed and then, another. And at last, the older man returned his attention to their dinner, which looked to be almost ready.



“Well, you didn’t say. What does your brother look like? Who does he favor? Finwe or Miriel?”

“He is taller than me by a head and has auburn red hair, and he looks more like my grandfather than either of his sons do. You can’t miss him even if you try.”

“Let me guess. Is your mother by any chance the daughter of a man with a very weird beard which doesn’t suit his age?”

“I would not call it weird. I liked petting my grandfather’s beard when I was younger. It was soft.”

“...How come you are related to every Golodh I know?”

“I think the question you should be asking is why you know so many people.”



~~~



“Well, that tasted like rabbit. Too much like rabbit.”

Tyelkormo grimaced as he buried the bones under the soft soil and out of habit, sent a quiet prayer of gratitude to Eru.

He was grateful for a filled stomach, but rabbit meat seasoned with nothing but salt wasn't his most ideal choice for dinner.

He took a sip of his waterskin just to wash away the raw aftertaste, and passed it wordlessly to Beleg who didn't seem to be faring any better.



“Well, I call first watch.”

Tyelkormo turned so fast, for a moment he feared his neck might be dislocated.

“No way. You've had the first watch for the last two days. I don't want to be woken up in the middle of my sleep again. You'll have the second watch.”

He huffed, and before Beleg could as much as utter a complaint, he threw his pack towards him to be his makeshift pillow as he walked toward the tree which was the designated spot. He climbed before settling on a high, sturdy branch. He pulled out an arrow and, keeping it notched on his bow but not pulled and strung.



He watched with a smirk as Beleg shook his head and pulled his cloak over him, turning into a part of the forest with his mop of hair blending into the darkness.

He listened as his breathing became deep and regular, and finally turned his attention back to his surroundings.

And thus, his next boring few hours started. No one had told him rescue missions consisted of many hours of sitting and doing nothing but watching the darkness around him in case something decided to sneak up on them. It was a far better deal than those cursed days he spent alone and scared, even if his companion looked to be drunk half the time and an investigator sent to wriggle secrets out of him the other.



He looked down at him again, the small smile disappearing as soon as his eyes fell upon that.



Beleg was no longer alone. A figure, clouded in shadows loomed over him. They held a hand over Beleg’s face and Tyelko had an arrow notched and ready to shoot when he realized what he was doing. What if he hit Beleg? It was too dark, and Beleg was not a rabbit he could make a gambit with.

He relaxed his arm. The arrow was back in his quiver, his blade unsheathed, and within seconds, his feet landed quietly on the ground. He looked up, ready to pounce upon the attacker when he found the spot empty. Beleg lay there, safe and sound, with little to no sign of the presence he had spotted only seconds ago.

Tyelkormo stood there for a moment, stunned, the grip of his hand around the blade becoming looser as his breathing came out shallow and in short gasps. He turned around once, his eyes wide as he surveyed the area, only to find…nothing.



Except that…his eyes narrowed as he spotted a movement somewhere ahead among the trees. The swish of fabrics caught his eyes and without a second to spare, Tyelkormo was following it.



His soundless steps took him further up north until he reached the very same cedar tree. The trunk shone with an unnatural light. Tyelkormo touched the trunk with some hesitation, before rounding the ancient tree.



There was nothing behind it. No dancing fabrics, nor looming figures. Nothing.

Tyelko breathed out as the rush of blood in his veins calmed down, and his excitement and slight panic gave way to disappointment and more panic. Was there something wrong with his eyes? Or perhaps his stamina was at its end, and he was hallucinating? Maybe he should have listened to Beleg about letting him have the first watch–



Beleg! Oh, by Eru! He had completely forgotten about him and he was supposed to watch his back!



He cursed under his breath, before he rounded the tree to return to their camp.



And there the figure was, blocking his way. Tyelkormo let out a yell before falling down. He looked up, hand circling around the handle of his blade. He was all but ready to attack until he saw his face.



The knife fell from his hand just as the figure knelt in front of him.

The raven curls framed the bloody face, and the crown of diamonds and rubies shone brightly upon his brow. Those silver orbs roamed over him, before he reached out to take Tyelkormo’s trembling hands into his own.



And, just then, Tyelko finally felt where that rush of energy and warmth was coming from. The pendant burnt the skin of his chest in its fire.

“Atya?”

The bloody man did not smile, but his eyes visibly softened as they fell on his.

He squeezed his hands and pulled him up as they both stood.

Feanaro threw a careful and paranoid glance behind him, before pulling Tyelko.

“Follow me.”



And Tyelkormo did. He followed his father as they got farther away from the camp, his mind numb to anything, and as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. Because wasn’t he supposed to be dead? Didn’t he burn himself to ashes in front of his eyes? Then how was he holding Tyelkormo’s hand in his own? He wasn’t supposed to have a hand.



“Atya? Where are we going?”

He found himself asking as their path seemed to become endless. The hand holding his tensed, before his father came to a stop.

Feanaro sighed and turned to him. He let go of his hand in favor of holding his arms.

“Away from that dark elf, pitya. I have left you alone long enough, thinking you have grown enough to differentiate friends from enemies. I see now that I was wrong.”

He cupped his cheek, wiping away a tear which had finally escaped his tight hold.

The touch felt off. He looked at the bloody hand and touched his own cheek as he shook his head and stepped back.



He took steps back and with each one, his father took one in his direction.

“I saw…I saw you burn. How are you alive?”

Feanaro smiled slightly. It was gentle. It was kind, and it was nothing like he remembered of him following the last days of his life.

“Does it really matter? I’m here, and I’m going to take you home where you will be safe and away from that savage excuse of an elf. See what he has done to you?”

He touched the small scab which was the only reminder of Beleg’s attack. He didn’t know why, but even the mere act of his finger grazing his skin felt revolting.

“But…he was a friend of grandfather’s, Atya–”

“And Olwe was a friend too, and you saw how in our time of need, he chose to take the side of his lords, the pathetic little thing he is. And you know how we answer those friends who hurt us, my child. We make a lesson out of them–”



“Tyelko! Where are you, kid?!”



In the distance, Beleg shouted. Tyelkromo turned, and some feet away, he could see the vague shape of him approaching.

Feanaro gripped his hand tightly and pulled him away from the Sinda.

“Come! Before he finds us. We have to leave, sweet boy. He won’t let you go if he finds you!”

Feanaro hissed and pulled him again. Tyelkormo stumbled, his legs feeling weak all of a sudden. The burning feeling on his chest was like coal on his skin, and all he wanted to do was claw out the offending object.



Get away from him, Tyelko!

He pulled out the necklace, and for a moment, the light of it blinded him. He heard his father scream, and then, he felt clawed hands digging into his skin.

“Curse you! Put it away! Keep it away!”

Feanaro growled next to him, and Tyelkormo shuddered at how inhumane he sounded.



Tyelkormo pulled his arm out of his grasp, hissing when the claws left their bloody marks on it.

He stumbled away from him, and watched what he had thought to be his father wail and moan in pain, the once smooth skin turning shriveled and grey before his eyes. The silver eyes turned black, and they eyed Tyelkromo with something akin to horror.



No, not him, but something he was holding. He looked down at the pulsing jewel in his hand and back at the monster in front of him, and the realization hit him just as something whistled right past his ear.

“Illuvatar!”

He flinched and turned around to see Beleg run to his side, another arrow notched and ready to shoot.

The monster sneered, appearing completely unfazed despite the arrow having claimed its heart, if it had one, that was.

“You think you can harm me, little elves? Me?! I shall shed your blood and feast upon your flesh!”



Use the stone, my love. I will protect you.



The voice, the real one, echoed inside his head, and Tyelkromo blinked, snapping out of this numbing horror.

He pulled off the necklace and took slow steps forward, ears deaf to the voice of Beleg as he called him back.



The creature hesitated for a moment, before it snarled and attacked.

Or, perhaps it tried, because the closer it got, the more the aquamarine seemed to glow. It pulsed like it was a living creature. Like it was a beating heart, and the light it radiated was burning this monster away. It growled, wailed and whimpered and no matter what it did, it couldn’t get closer else be burned.



“What on Arda…”

He heard Beleg whisper behind him, but his gaze never left those angry black eyes. He glared at it with all his might, and took a step forward and watched as it took several backwards. He watched as it hesitated, indecisive if they were truly worth the pain it was going through, before snarling and scrambling away, losing its humanoid form as it disappeared.



The pendant pulsed once more before it all went dark. Tyelkormo gasped and fell on his knees and in a second, Beleg was by his side.





“What…what was that?”

He found himself whispering. Beleg sighed, pulling him up by his uninjured arm, and holding him as he swayed.

“Let’s…let’s just get back to the camp. You need care.”

He did not complain as Beleg half-carried him back to their camp and dying fire, his mind filled with the loving voice of Feanaro and the dark gazes filled with hatred.



~~~



“What was that?”

He managed to say through whimpers and hisses as Beleg cleaned the wound. These wounds were just as weird as anything which had happened in the last few hours. Huan, gentle giant as he was, had given him worse in his rough-housing, but despite being small, they looked inflamed and hurt more than anything Tyelko had ever experienced.



“Hush. Let me do my work.”

Tyelkormo pouted as he was ignored once again, and was rewarded a painful dab on the deepest gash on his arm with the alcohol soaked cloth.

Then, Beleg reached into his own pack and brought out a bottle of some sort. He uncorked it, before dabbing some into another clean cloth. Gently, he began rubbing it into his wounds and as if it was water upon the roaring fire, the pain disappeared.

“What is this?”



Beleg huffed as he bandaged the now clean wounds, and tied it tighter than he should have, so that Tyelko winced from the sheer pressure of it.

“Black bean for nosy kids, that’s what.”



Tyelkormo looked at him with wide eyes, not quite sure if he was allowed to feel offended. When he was met with the cold and tired eyes, he swallowed down the sass, as Beleg had called it, and settled for another repeat of his question.

“What was that?”

“Oil from the holly tree.”

“Not that. What was that…that thing?”



Beleg glared at him before slowly putting away the medical supplies. Tyelkromo watched him, feeling more than a little awkward.



“What you did was beyond reckless. I hope you have figured that much out by yourself.”

“I’m traveling with a stranger to the fortress of the Dark Lord. I think I’m past that–”



Beleg threw the bottle of oil harshly inside the bag and turned towards him. Tyelko felt an involuntary shudder run down his spine.

“This isn’t a joke, Tyelko. You could have died.”

“I know–”

“Do you? Because to me, it sounds like you still think you’re walking those blessed lands of yours where the most dangerous thing you could run into was a badger stung by a bee. This is real, kid. This is the reality of living here, and until you have figured that out, you’re putting everyone around you in danger.”

“I–”

Beleg shoved down the bag and knelt in front of him until their faces were barely apart.

“I trusted you to watch my back, but what did you do?”

“I saw it standing over you! And it was gone! I followed it–”

“Then you should have woken me up! What if it wasn’t alone? What if they were a group, trying to lure us away from each other, huh? You left me an easy target, unknowing and vulnerable.”

He spat out the last word, and Tyelko felt the cold truth settling deep into his heart. He shut his eyes and looked down. He felt Beleg exhale harshly, now sitting in front of him.



“Who did it turn into?”

Tyelkromo blinked his eyes open, his wide gaze finding Beleg’s. The familiar, compassionate look was back, and Tyelkormo would never admit how much he had missed it.

“How do you know?”



Beleg grimaced and took a swig of the brandy, which made Tyelko grimace in return. That brew was solely meant to be used for medical purposes. No one could dare Tyelko to actually drink that stuff, but there Beleg was, not even frowning as he swallowed it down.

“Not my first time dealing with the likes of it. Who had it turned into?”
“My father.”

He avoided the incredulity in Beleg’s gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Your– your father?! But… but you said he’s dead–”

“He is–”

“Then why would you even believe the tricks?!”

“Because I wanted to!”



He snapped at last and turned away so his tears would not be so visible.

“I wanted him to be alive. I just…I just wanted him back.”

He sniffled and wiped his eyes, cursing at how easy it was to wriggle tears out of him.

“We didn't even have a body to bury. He just …burst into flames after he bade us to renew our oath and avenge him and our grandfather. So I thought perhaps…I don't know what I thought, but I just wanted him to be alive.”



He felt a comforting hand on his uninjured arm.

“Hey…it's okay. You don't have to explain more if you don't want to. I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to ask. What is done is done. No use sweating over it now.”



Tyelkormo nodded and exhaled, swallowing the bile in his throat and reigning in his emotions as much as he could before he dared to look at his companion again.

Beleg didn't look angry anymore, which was good. An angry Beleg was a scary one, even though Tyelkormo would never admit it out loud.



“The creature…it's called Ōmata. It's a kind of dark spirit which infests these forests close to the fortress and feasts on unsuspecting travelers. It’s a shapeshifter, meaning it can turn into anyone, so tricking people is how it hunts. When it has you where it wants, that's when it turns to its real form. It digs its claws into your flesh, and this is how it poisons you.

And that is why your wounds hurt so much, even if they were shallow. It slowly paralyzes each and every organ, until even the heart fails and you die. It can't be killed, and the only thing capable of hurting it is fire sparked by holly tree oil or wood.”

“You seem to know it very well.”

Beleg scoffed, a sound dry as a bone.

“I have lived very long, and I had the misfortune of knowing more than I should have.”

He turned to him, eyes narrowed upon something on Tyelko's chest. He looked down, finding the aquamarine blinking innocently, settled against Tyelko’s armour.

“That is a curious thing, the stone. Where did you get it?”



He went to touch it, but hissed and snatched away his hand before he even could.

“Damn it!”

Tyelkormo gasped and looked down, half-expecting the jewel to be pulsing again. But there it sat, not blinking, nor shining with a light of its own as it had before.



“Why the hell did it do that?!”

Beleg was still cursing as he clenched and unclenched his sore fingers. Tyelko could only shrug.

“I wouldn't know. My father was never one to give away the secret of his works. And this was made just after I was born. I've had it my whole life. Never seen it react to anyone like this.

It has been acting weird for a while, though, so I doubt it has anything against you.”



He tucked the necklace back under his shirt, and the content warmth of it gave him some solace.



“Your father made that?”

Beleg was still staring, a thoughtful frown adorning his features.

Tyelko nodded, and put a hand over the necklace, the look on Beleg's face throwing him off a little.

“You’re not going to take it away when I'm not looking, right?”

“first of all, I'm not a thief–”

“I beg to differ–”

“And second of all, I can't even touch the thing!”

“Do you think this is the reason it doesn't like you?”



Beleg huffed and shoved him. Tyelko chuckled and laid down, the exhaustion overtaking him. He blinked lazily as Beleg’s face came into view.

“Get some sleep, Little Man. Not many can take on Ōmata like you did and live to tell the tale. We'll get back on track soon, but we still have a few hours to spare. I'll watch over you.”

“Mhm.”



He managed to mumble before sleep overtook him.


(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 6: What Is Left Behind​

Lilómë swished her fluffy tail around as she entered the den of Fluffed Hair. She looked around jumping on the table before making her way on to his bed. She sniffed it, catching the faint scent of him.

She frowned and looked around in search of her water and food, but found neither of those things. She meowed, frustrated and annoyed.

It was not like Fluffed Hair to just not have these ready for her when she came back from her nightly wanderings. He was always here, the bowl in his hand and all those soft and nice scratches she would allow him to give her. Then, that savage and unruly hound of his would arrive and make him stink of dog again, but then they would disappear and return with more food. Which was good. Lilómë didn’t want to complain about it. As long as Fluffed Hair bathed everyday like she did, then it was all nice and fine.



Lilómë meowed, pondering if she should give him a bath from time to time, just to make sure he was clean. She purred, kneading the pillow a little and jumping down again, planning to head to the den of Metal Hand, where she could have breakfast with her annoying little brother.



But then, she smelled another scent. The den was intruded, and there came in Rosy Cheeks. Lilómë meowed in excitement and went to greet him. She pranced around his legs and heard him chuckle at her antics. She embraced him with gladness as he picked her up, circling her arms around his neck, purring when he began to pet her with utmost gentleness, not like the ruffian his brother was.

“I believe you also seek my brother, sweet girl? Has he not fed you yet?”

Lilómë meowed sadly, and Rosy Cheeks cooed and held her tighter. He stayed for a second or two, before exiting the den.



She clung to him as they surveyed around their new home.

Lilómë was indecisive. On one mitten, she wanted to go and eat her breakfast, but on the other, she felt quite comfortable being held by her favorite Two Leg.

At last, she decided that Rosy Cheeks would feed her at some point. Likely after they found Fluffed Hair together.



Lilómë whined as they entered a new den, but perked up when she noticed who it belonged to. She looked around, searching for Great Father but as it had been the norm for the last few weeks, she failed to spot him. Instead, she found her own father. Aryon, her fluffy and wise father was sitting on the desk beside Sweet Voice. His bowl of food lay half empty in front of him, and despite the nice and considerate petting he was getting from Sweet Voice, her father still looked sad. He’d been sad since Great Father disappeared. Did he not know he was going to turn up at some point? Yaulë liked to disappear from time to time as a kitten, but father was never sad when he did it. Great Father would show up like he always did, and father needed to know that.



She squirmed until Rosy Cheeks understood and put her on the desk next to Aryon. She nuzzled the unhappy cheeks, and as always, her father perked up in her presence. He let her close to cuddle, and began cleaning her. Lilómë was a big cat now, but knowing this calmed Aryon, she let him do it until he was satisfied and had gotten all the smell of Rosy Cheeks off her.



“Have you seen Tyelko, Kano? We were supposed to go hunting together but I couldn’t find him. He has forgotten to feed Lilo too. Poor thing was looking all over for him.”



Sweet Voice was frowning. He stopped petting Aryon and looked at Rosy Cheeks. Lilómë mewled sadly but perked up when her father pushed his half-eaten bowl towards her and dug in, forgetting all about Fluffed Hair for a moment until she saw Sweet Voice stand up and join Rosy Cheeks as they both left the den behind.



She looked at Aryon who, once again, was hiding his face under his tail, and had gone back to being sad.

She called him, but her father ignored her every time. She looked down at the empty bowl and at Sweet Voice and Rosy Cheeks who were almost disappearing.

She was still hungry, and her father didn’t want to play. It seemed only logical for her to want to follow behind Rosy Cheeks. Maybe she could find Fluffed Hair, after all. She wanted to loaf on his soft hair and nap for a while. Fluffed Hair needed a nap too. It would be good for them both.



She jumped down, and ran until she reached Rosy Cheeks. He didn’t bend down to pick her up this time, which she appreciated. She wished for Fluffed Hair now, and would not have tolerated anyone else to touch her.



She looked around as they walked, watching the stranger Two Legs as they worked. They seemed to be busy with something, but they all would bow and step away as she passed by them. She meowed and purred in satisfaction, tail held high as they walked around until she sniffed a familiar scent. Her fur rose and she looked at the hound with contempt.



The hound was walking back and forth in front of a den, and he raised his head once he sniffed her in return.

He barely spared her a glance and approached Sweet Voice who, much to Lilómë’s displeasure, petted his head.

Lilómë didn’t understand. Huan was huge, rude and stinky. How Fluffed Hair and his brothers could like him was beyond Lilómë’s understanding.



She walked past him as she accompanied the Two Legs inside the den, where she found her idiot brother.

Yaulë was enjoying what Lilómë sniffed to be bird meat. She meowed and approached her brother and despite his annoyance, started eating from his bowl.

She heard Metal Hand chuckle before out of nowhere, he brought out a new bowl just for Lilómë. She gave her brother a few reluctant kisses before switching to her own bowl.



“Curvo? Have you seen Tyelko around? I’ve been looking for him all morning but he appears to have vanished into thin air. I imagined he has taken off to hunt, but Huan is here, and I see no reason for him to leave me behind as he had promised to go with me today.”



“Where is your Two Leg, Lilómë?”

Yaulë was finished with his food and was now cleaning his mittens.

Lilómë stopped eating for a moment. She looked around for his pretty mop of white hair, but only found dark ones. Indeed, besides Rosy Cheeks, Sweet Voice and Metal Hand, no other Two Leg was in the room–



Wrong. She sniffed again, before finally spotting the kitten Two Leg sitting on his bed. He was watching the adults carefully. Lilómë purred in approval and looked down at the small remainder of her food. She felt full, but still wanted to eat. And she also wanted to go and cuddle with the motherless kitten. One cat would argue that if his mother had seen fit to abandon him, then perhaps he was old enough to live on his own. But Lilómë had seen how all the Two Legs took care of him, and all these signs told her she needed to intervene and be a mother to him until his own showed up. So she walked up to him and jumped on his lap. She heard him purr in contentment in that weird way Two Legs did.

She began petting him, and felt his arms circle around her. Good. He had accepted her as a mother now.



“I have not seen him since last night when he left the meeting hall. He was gone by the time I came back.”

“I met with him late at night. I think he was getting ready for bed. Do you think…could he be with the twins?”

“I… I believe Telvo would be civil with him, but Pityo still holds a grudge. And Tyelko sees it. He would not seek them out, and if he had, we would already know of it. Our youngest was not exactly gentle with him last night.”



Lilómë was soon joined by Yaulë. Her brother cleaned the kitten’s hair a little before he, too, was engulfed in his arms.



“So what now? No one has seen him, and Tyelko is not the type to just leave the camp without saying anything. He’s reckless, but he’s not this inconsiderate. He knows we would worry.”



Rosy Cheeks was pacing across the room. Lilómë watched his movements with fascination. Truly, he was remarkable among his brethren. His hair was the brownest of browns, and his cheeks were the color of freshest roses from Great Mother’s garden where Lilómë had spent her kittenhood in.



Lilómë then glanced at Metal Hand, and found him to have gone pale in fright. She looked around herself, unsure if there was something which had caused him to be this frightened. Yet, she found nothing. She sniffed again, but still, there was nothing. Perhaps Metal Hand had also spotted a cucumber? She often used those to make Yaulë jump when they were kittens, and mother would always scold her. Metal Hand was Yaulë's Two Leg, so it was possible for him to be afraid of cucumbers too.



“Curvo? What’s wrong?”



Then, somewhere in the distance, Lilómë heard Huan bark. And he kept barking and barking, and among his barking, Lilómë heard him wail.



“He’s gone! He’s gone! He’s gone!”



Lilómë hissed, annoyed at how loud his voice was getting.



“Atya? What is wrong with Huan? He sounds hurt.”

The kitten moved to stand up, but Lilómë put a mitten on his chest to keep him there. If something had hurt Huan, Lilómë didn’t want it to hurt the kitten too.



Metal Hand still looked scared, and this time, Lilómë did not follow the Two Legs as they left the den behind.

The kitten squirmed. Lilómë put her mitten on his chest again, but this time, he didn’t listen.

He got out of his bed and followed behind his father.



Yaulë meowed loudly at him, but the kitten didn’t listen. Lilómë watched her brother for a moment before they followed the kitten together. If some cat were to ask Lilómë why she didn’t want kittens, she would show them this one as an example. They didn’t listen, and they ran into danger like a fool.



They ran and ran until they caught up to him. There he stood, just outside Fluffed Hair’s den. Inside, Lilómë could hear shouts.



“Curvo! Have you gone mad?! What in Utumno are you looking for?! You’re making a mess of his tent!”



“What…what is that?”

“A note.”

“What does it say?”



The kitten knelt. Lilómë put a mitten on his back, and kept an eye around in case something showed up.



“He’s gone to save Nelyo…alone.”



The sound of steps came from inside, and it got closer and closer. Lilómë did not react, for she recognized them to be Rosy Cheeks’ and not an unknown danger.



“Just where do you think you are going, Moryo?”

“I’m going to drag his ass back in here and give him a piece of my mind.”

“He’s already covered a great distance. He’s fast, and if even Huan can’t find his tracks, you have no chance.”

“So we should just let him go to his death–”

“I will not have you follow him to it! I have lost enough! I will not watch all of you die before my eyes, Carnistir Morifinwë! I… I will not. Now, someone calms down his hound before he sends all of our people into panic.”



Lilómë watched Huan fall down in front of the entrance to the den and continued to wail. Despite herself, she found it in her heart to feel bad about him.



“You really are just going to leave him to die, Káno, aren’t you? Just like Nelyo–”

“Don’t you…don’t you dare finish that sentence, Carnistir. You’re walking on some mighty damn thin ice right there.”

“Enough, both of you. He has made his decision. Nothing either of us can do but pray.”

“To whom?! The Valar?! Eru?! Who would answer to kinslayers?!”

“What do you want me to do, Moryo?! Kill more of our people?! Sacrifice them for my brothers’ foolishness?! They followed us out of loyalty, not to be used like fodders for our own desire! We lost our best with Maitimo. Tyelko… he understood this. That’s why he took no one. We should trust in his abilities and hope he returns to us with Nelyo.”



“He’s going to die. Just like Atya and just like Nelyo–”

“You don’t know that–”

“But I do so! We’ve done nothing but lose people since we set foot on these cursed lands! Amya was right. We should have stayed.”



Lilómë jumped as the kitten gasped, and she stroked him with her mitten as he started wailing too. She wondered if he missed his mom, and decided to be an extra good mother to him.



“What do you want us to do now, Moryo? Despair and lay down to our deaths? We have burned every bridge possible, literally and figuratively.”

“I just want this to be over.”



Lilómë turned and nuzzled Yaulë back as he bopped her head, her mitten still stroking the kitten’s back. She looked at Huan who had fallen silent and wondered if Fluffed Hair was going to be feeding her lunch to her or not.




(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 7: The Way Inside​

Beleg watched as the reflection of the passing torches of orcs danced in those wide, terrified eyes. His hold on Tyelko’s wrist tightened when they got too close to the curve in the road where they were hiding in, and it looked like he was unable to keep still until it was all clear.



The orcs did not linger, the fear of their master an invisible whip, urging them to keep going and soon, they were gone, and had taken their only source of light with them. The dark clouds of ash and smoke blocked even the most radiant of Elbereth’s stars.



Yet, even the power of the Dark One failed to snuff out those of Iluvatar’s.

He watched mesmerized as the boy pulled off his hood, and like a star resurfaced from under stormy clouds, his glow made the darkness surrounding them a little more bearable.

He found himself stroking the soft strands which had become a habit for him and was pleased when, this time, he got no reaction beyond the boy’s shoulders relaxing.



“It was a close one.”

Tyelko muttered, and while his face betrayed nothing, Beleg could feel how his hands shook in his grip. He squeezed his wrist one last time before letting go of him.

“And it is only going to become closer. Are you ready, Little Man? Once we get beyond that path, there is no turning back.”



He pointed at a narrow passage between the cliffs and hills where the orcs had disappeared. The shadows of sharp rocks and stones made an intimidating sight, and Beleg felt a slight shiver run down his spine.

Tyelkormo’s lips trembled. He closed his eyes and once he opened them, there was no trace of the earlier fear and hesitance left.

“I’m not stepping back. I need to save Timo.”

Beleg smiled, hearing the familiar sound of what he had guessed to be a childhood nickname of Tyelko’s mysterious fire-haired brother.

He did not know his full name. In fact, he knew nothing about him at all, beyond the fact that he had the fire of Mahtan’s line in his hair, and he was taller than him and Tyelkormo both.

Well, he doubted he needed anything more. It was unlikely he could find anyone with that coloring outside of Nogrod.



He nodded, patted his shoulder and stood up from his crouching position.

“Very well. One more time for my peace of mind, tell me, what you are to do?”

He could see him trying his best to not show how annoyed he was becoming with him, and despite the scare he had gotten from having woken up to not finding him, he was also grateful for the incident with Omata.

The creature had beaten the unruliness of the youth out of him, and Eru knew there was no such place for this kind of foolishness inside the labyrinth of Balchon’s fortress.



“I keep close and quiet, and I will not disobey your orders.”

The last part he added with a little more reluctance. Beleg ignored the added dose of attitude and nodded.

“Good. Now, strip.”



Perhaps the nice thing would have been to give him a warning. Some sort of explanation for his odd order, but…where was the fun in that?

And in Beleg’s defense, he wasn’t exactly known for being nice. He was funny, though, and the look on the lad’s face was hilarious.

Tyelkormo’s mouth hung open, and Beleg reached out to close it. Tyelko blinked rapidly, his throat bobbing, words stuck and unable to get out and form something intelligible to say.

“What…? He-here?”



Beleg relished in his mortification. He raised an eyebrow, which managed to further confuse the kid.

“What do you think we are going to do?”

Beleg didn’t need light to see those flaming cheeks only deepen in color. Tyelkormo looked away at last, and Beleg gave in and allowed himself to laugh silently just as he reached out for the jar in his pack.



“While you take your mind out of the gutter, how about you also do as you are told? Do you want to wait until the next group comes and passes by us? I don’t think we will be as lucky this time around.”



The kid huffed but listened and soon, he was down to his thin tunic and trousers, his finely made leather armour and weapons fallen by his feet.

Beleg tsked.

“Down to your undergarments.”

Tyelko gave him a wide eyed look.

“But it’s cold.”

“You can put them back on soon. Just need to coat them in this.”



He shook the jar and its white powder in front of his face before pulling off his own quiver from his back and unclasping his cloak.



“What is that?”

Beleg could hear the curious tone in his voice, and he didn’t need to look at him to know he was following the movement of the jar, not unlike a cat would.

“It’s called oro, and it masks your scent. Thralls have a strong sense of smell. We can not take the chance of them recognizing us as anything but one of them.”



Beleg let his armour fall down. Soon, his reddish brown boots joined them and when he turned to look at Tyelkormo, he found his fit form shining, as if he was a marble statue under the stars.

His gaze might have lingered for long enough to make him uncomfortable, because the lad’s form became closed off, and he coughed too loudly for it to be real.

Beleg shook his head. Of course, the kid was going to be as prude as his grandfather. He held the jar out for him to take.

“Here. Take it and try to coat your clothes in a thin layer of this. And leave enough for me.”



Beleg unbuckled his belt and let it fall down and pulled off his tunic in a single move, and turned to make sure Tyelko was not wasting away their precious material.

The jar was still in his hand, the lid unscrewed. The lad had that wide eyed, shocked look back on his face, and was staring at him intently.



His stomach, to be precise.



Beleg looked down, and he did not find something unusual. Maybe he had gotten thinner since he had started his journey, but there was no way for the kid to notice that. Was it his scars? He had not seen one before?

“What you staring at, Little Man? Also, why do you get to stare and I don’t? That doesn’t sound fair to me–”

“Why don’t you have a belly button?”

“....Huh?”

“You don’t have a belly button! Who doesn’t have a belly button?! Is that even possible?!--”

“What are you talking about?”

And Tyelkormo, unable to speak, merely pointed at him again. Beleg followed the line until it reached himself, and finally, found the reason for his sudden distress.

He chuckled, shaking his head as the lad became more and more confused.

“I gather it is your first time seeing one of the Awakened bare, right?”



Tyelkormo’s eyes moved up and down and Beleg could see all the thoughts running through his pretty little head before he finally caught up.

“You– What– But how?! I thought…”

His eyes widened a little more if possible before his whole face fell. Beleg didn’t need him to talk. It was written all over his face.

“You thought we were all dead?”

The kid bit his lips and dropped his head.

“This…this is what I have been told.”



Beleg sighed and held out his hand to take the jar from him. Then, he spread out all of their clothes on the ground where he could coat them in that little magical white powder. The stone which the sharp eyes of Emlin caught, and the strong hands of Russa ground into what Beleg was holding now. He took a deep breath and poured it over the fabric, moving it around until it had sunken in between its warp and weft.



“When we made the journey west, a lot of them preferred to stay behind. I…I was less wary of adventure and new places, and I did not have it in my heart to abandon my friends.”

“My grandparents.”

Beleg’s smile was bittersweet as he moved onto Tyelkormo’s clothing.

“Yes.”



He felt his hesitant touch on his shoulder once he had worked the powder into their clothes. His hands were cold, and it made the hair at the back of his neck rise.

“...I’m sorry.”

Beleg blinked and rose slowly, handing the kid his clothes without a word. Yet, perhaps his confused face had asked Tyelko what his tongue had failed to, as the kid continued.

“I shouldn’t have…I know I don’t tell you about my family. I had no right to ask you about yours.”

“You did not ask. I spoke of my own accords.”

“Did I…did I make you sad?”

His violet eyes swimmed with emotions, and Beleg was once again struck by how young the kid was.

He shook his head and pulled his tunic over his head.

“Tis the tale of another world and another time. Whatever I have lost was the price of what I have now.”

He breathed out and watched the vapor of it swirl into nothingness.

“Put on your clothes. We have wasted enough time.”



He heard no more arguments and soon, all that remained of them by that dusty side of the road were traces of white powder and buried memories of ages ago.



~~~



“Are you sure this…is this spell really going to work, Beleg? What if it fails–”

A hand covered Tyelkromo’s mouth in an instance, just as a thrall passed them by, too close for comfort. Close enough to hear the delicate Eldarin roll out of Tyelko’s tongue, and close enough it could have discovered them before they could even get close enough to get a glimpse of Maitimo and Tyelko’s mysterious granduncle.



He allowed himself as it finally left the little corner behind the iron barrels where they were hiding, and after a moment, Beleg let go of him too.



“It will. It’s not my first time here, kid.”



But…what if I fail? He wanted to ask, but swallowed down the doubt. There was no use thinking about it now. Beleg had asked him before they braved the gap amidst the mountains. He had chosen to come, and he had to be Beleg’s comrade instead of a hindrance on his path.



He turned to look at the older man. Beleg’s cheerful demeanor had diminished the closer they had gotten to Angamandu, and now, he barely spared him his usual smiles. Yet, his eyes had remained kind and reassuring as it had been since day one, and his lingering touches and acts of affection, though unexpected and queer at first for someone he barely knew, had become a solace for him.



His gaze was as kind as he squeezed his shoulder firmly. Tyelkormo could only nod.



Together, they began humming. High and low, their voices mingled. At last, Tyelkormo opened his eyes to a face so hideous, he flinched away before realizing who it belonged to.

He heard a low laugh. Even the voice sounded nothing like Beleg’s. He only hoped his own disguise had been as successful.

“Don’t look at me like that. You look even uglier.”

“You haven’t seen yourself yet.”



Beleg smirked at the jab, and Tyelko had to control himself to not recoil at the sight.

Then, Beleg’s cheerful demeanor gave way to a serious one.

“Tyelko, the things you are about to see there…I want you to be prepared. One wrong move, one lingering look of pity, and our whole mission will be compromised.”

“What do you mean–”

“I told you that this is a mine, with tunnels which leads inside the fortress–”

“Beleg–”

“But I did not tell you all.”

The older man sighed and hung his head before continuing.

“This is not just a mine. It’s a slavery camp.”

“Of…”

“Of elves. My kin. Our kin.”



Tyelkormo was stunned. Since the time he first heard the name of Melkor from one of Makalaure’s horror stories long ago in his childhood, he thought all the elves unfortunate enough to be tangled in his webs were tortured until they died or turned to one of his abominations.

Slavery and labour, though certainly not a glorious fate, was better than rotting in a cell, waiting and hoping for death.

Did that mean Maitimo was out there, and they didn’t even need to enter the fortress to get him out?

“Would… would my brother be there?”

Beleg needed to just shake his head to shoot down his hopes.

“I have been scouring among the prisoners for a long time. I was here just a month ago. I did not find Elmo, and I certainly did not see any elf with hair like your brother’s.”

“My brother was taken only a month ago.”

Perhaps he had been taken to Moringotto first, hoping to be tortured so he would reveal secrets. There could still be a chance for his brother to not have spent the last month, pained and bleeding blood and soul.

“That’s not it. Your brother is royalty. If Elmo was not kept as a slave, then it means they are both somewhere inside. We will keep an eye out for your brother in the camp, but I won't get my hopes up.”

He paused, his now yellow eyes narrowing, his brows furrowing in a hurt expression.

“I would have to find my way inside somehow, either way. I thought we were in this together–”

Tyelkormo interrupted him in a panic he did not know he was containing. The thought of Beleg doubting his comradery was sickening.

“That’s not it! I just…the workers…they are in a better condition, right? They are not being tortured…”

His voice trailed off when he noticed the pitying look on Beleg’s face.

“Define better. Working or not, none of these poor bastards last more than a couple of winters in the mines. They either die from exhaustion, under the whip, or get blasted away during an explosion. The craftsmen have it better. If they are deemed good enough, they get to work under Gorthaur in the smithery. Is your brother a master of metals?”

Tyelkormo found himself shaking his head, and once he had started, he couldn’t stop.

“He… he paints sometimes. He’s a politician–”

Beleg reached out and held the back of his head. Tyelkormo stopped all his movements at the unexpected touch.

“Easy there. Stop making up scenarios in your head. Wherever he has been, we’re saving them both today. That is all you need to think about.”

All he could offer was a weak nod. Beleg didn’t appear to be satisfied but he let it be.

“Now, remember. Do not make eye contact. Do not speak a word. Don’t look at the prisoners if you can’t control yourself. It should be time for the rotation of the guards and slaves. We’ll be able to get inside with them. Once there, I’ll try to listen in for a hint of where they could be held. Follow my lead and do not venture away, and we will be just fine.”

“And once we have found them? They are not just going to let us leave.”

Beleg looked…uncomfortable, to say the least.

“I will think of something. Now, hurry up–”

“But–”

“Look, this mission was suicidal from the moment you set out of your camp all by yourself, lost and frankly? Helpless. I have a plan to get you inside. Trust me to be able to get you and your brother out of that hell, too.”

Tyelkormo sighed and willed his beating heart to calm down.



“Fine. Let us go, then.”



~~~



Beleg could feel the kid tense up the second they passed by the first group of slaves.

The elves, with matted and dirty hair clinging to their scalps, and rags hanging from their frail bodies doing little to protect them from the cold.



Beleg and Tyelko passed by them, and Beleg’s stomach twisted at the look of absolute hate and fear sent their way. Yet, none of them dared to stop working, the fear of the whip in Beleg’s hand greater than any anger and disgust they harboured inside.

Every time, Beleg wished he could let his disguise fade away and let them all see who, exactly, he was. He was the Mighty. He was Beleg. He was one of the first, and he was still a child of Iluvatar’s. He was uncorrupted.



Instead, all he did was sneer viciously at them, and they looked away, and Beleg could pretend the knife twisting in his heart was just his nerves keeping him alert.



“Round them up and back in the chains. Gotta get them back inside before they drop dead.”

The black speech sounded jarring to his ears, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to control his reaction as the orc captain pushed him harshly towards prisoners.

Tyelko’s eyes widened in alarm and before he could do something stupid like checking if Beleg was okay, he pushed the kid towards the miners, his voice barely a whisper when he translated the order.

“Gather them up and play it cool. We are heading inside.”



True to his promise, Tyelko did not speak a word. They got separated for a moment as the crowd of slaves came between them, so exhausted they seemed eager to get back inside. Beleg did as he was supposed to. He shoved, pushed and cursed just like his fellow Yrchs did, and tried to ignore the whines and moans and he tried to ignore the suffering he was causing on top of everything else. He tried to think of Elmo, and how all of these were the price of saving his friend, his little brother. But every time, those disappointed eyes of his would flash before him. Elmo wouldn’t have wanted for Beleg to go to this extent to save him, but Beleg had been too selfish to care.



Perhaps he will forgive me once he comes to know of his nephews.



He watched over Tyelkormo when the thought of Elmo was too much. The kid played a fair game, even if his heart had yet to harden enough to be too rough with the slaves, he tried his best to not attract attention.



The prisoners were in chains, and soon, the darkness of the tunnel swallowed them whole.



I’m coming, Elmo. Hang on. Just a little longer.
(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 8: The Choice Is Made​

Tyelkormo’s hand shook as he gave the lightest of push to the frail man hanging far behind the group. He stumbled, and Tyelko almost reached out to pull him up before he could fall.

He didn’t. He gasped as he righted himself, and his weak steps struggled to keep up with everyone else.



The torch light was faint and barely lit a few feet in front of them, but it did little to hide the whip marks on his back.



And I pushed him. I pushed him. I pushed him–



I… I hurt him.



He glanced at where Beleg was last, and for a short moment filled with panic, he struggled to find him. But then, he glanced back, and even though the face did not differ much from others, he recognized it among others.

His eyes, with slit pupils and their strange orange light, were the only things making him stand out the most. They were looking at him, worried and concerned.

He hadn’t wanted for them to be separated, but then one of the larger thralls, the one with the more elaborate armour which spoke of his rank had put Tyelko in the back to make sure all of the prisoners would make it inside, and neither of them in their right mind could protest against his orders.



Yet Beleg still watched his back, even if far from him. He nodded, a simple question waiting to be answered.

Is everything fine?

He nodded back. He was fine. He was as fine as he could be there in the tunnels leading inside Angamandu, wearing a thrall’s skin and pretending to be as cruel as them by hurting his own kin.



Shouldn’t it be easy for you? You have done worse–



No! No, that was different. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. None of them had. The Teleri attacked first. They tried killing them first. Tyelkormo just fought back. He just wanted to live. He just wanted to survive–



He… he wasn’t like them, was he? He wasn’t so needlessly cruel. He didn’t enjoy the pain these poor people were in.

He looked forward once again, just in time to see one of the prisoners fall. The group halted. The captain approached the limp body on the ground. He watched it for a while, and Tyelko almost winced as he kicked the elf so hard in the stomach, he was sure the poor thing would have thrown up anything he had eaten. If he had eaten.



Yet, seconds passed, and the prisoner did not move. He heard the barely audible whispers of others. They spoke in the same tongue Beleg first had threatened him in, and even though he could not understand them, the fear in their voices needed no shared tongue to be understood.



The captain growled an order, and Tyelkormo watched, frozen, as Beleg stepped forward, unchained him, picked up the body, and threw it to the side of the tunnel where it would not be in their way. Where it would not be a bother.



No one checked if he still breathed. If he still lived. If he could be saved. No one cared.



The march continued, and Tyelko’s eyes remained on the unmoving body as much as the darkness let him.



~~~



Beleg blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brighter fire light at the end of the tunnel. He watched in a sick amusement as the slaves seemed to relax more now that they were inside.

As if they were home now. As if things were going to be different.



“Take them back to the dining halls. Dinner is about to be served.”

The vicious smirk on the Orch captain’s face threw him off, but he joined in as others began laughing too.

His eyes fell on Tyelkormo as he accompanied the last of the slaves. One look was enough to beacon the lad over to him. He whispered just as Tyelko was close enough to hear.

“Just follow their leads. We are about to get to some dining hall. Maybe I can get some information once we get there.”



Tyelkormo bit his lip as he surveyed their surroundings nervously. Beleg breathed out and put some distance between them just to avoid suspicious glances.



They walked through stone hallways, more light-filled but not any less ugly than the tunnel they had passed through to get there. The walls were unrefined and unpolished, and he wagered at least someone had hurt themselves being pushed against the jagged edges.



The end of the corridor opened into a dim room. Beleg blinked, letting his eyes adjust to this new, darker atmosphere.

“Asholog! Hold that damn torch straight! Pushdug, get them their food! They’ve been good mutts all day.”

He cackled to himself before his eyes fell on Beleg and Tyelko. They narrowed, the confusion soon turning to suspicion. Beleg gulped, holding his gaze but dropping it soon. Act scared, but not too scared.

He only looked up briefly as the captain addressed them.

“Tell me your names, filths! I wouldn’t take your punishments if yer here slacking off an’ hiding be’ind ma boys!”

Beleg turned to look at Tyelkormo, glad to find him looking down instead of staring at the orch. Much like bulls, they did not like to be stared at. They counted it as a challenge, and Beleg much wished to leave the fighting for when they had their brothers and wanted to get the hell out of there.

“I’m Buzrum, cap’n. This one’s Ashuruk. We ’ere sen’ here. We follow’d ord’rs.”

The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Ashuruk got no tongue to answer w’th?”

“The Brig’ One had his tongue cause it waggled too much.”

At the mention of Gorthaur, Beleg found the first signs of fear cracking through the captain’s face. He huffed and nodded, before he called over the rest of the filthy lot.

“The new bloods watch over the mutts. Let’s grab a bite, bastards!”

He smirked at Beleg, which almost had him losing his composure. It was hard to pretend the idiot hadn’t just given him what he wanted and not laugh at his face, but Beleg managed to brave through it.



He watched as the one called Pushdug threw some rotting pieces of meat at the slaves just as a new group of shackled elves came into view from another entrance.

Even in the dim light of this little cell, Beleg could see how they looked much better off than the ones they had accompanied here. The craftsmen.

And women, too, apparently. Even if the rags hid much of their thin bodies, Beleg could see the swell of their bosoms and curves and recognize them from the broad-shouldered ellyn.



He felt Tyelkormo tense next to him. The last of the prisoners came through the door, and he heard the kid breathe out roughly in disappointment. Beleg frowned. It was just as he had thought so. Neither Timo nor Elmo were being held amongst commoners.



His mind blocked out the sound of retreating laughter as he watched the poor wretched souls fight each other over something his king’s hunting hounds would not glance twice at, and it wasn’t until he felt a hesitant touch over his shoulder that he snapped out of it.



He turned towards Tyelkormo and met his questioning look. What do we do now?



He looked at the prisoners again, and watched as the craftsmen each picked up a piece of meat from the ground and mingled with the others, and to his surprise, he found the others welcoming them. Perhaps they were not as far gone as Beleg had thought.



He looked back at his companion. Tyelkormo, to his surprise and amusement, somehow managed to look like the nervous little bird he was, even in this ghastly form he had taken.

He shook his head and pulled him aside while the others were busy with their food. They wouldn’t pay attention to them.

“I have to go.”

He watched those sickly yellow eyes widen.

“What?! You said we’ll stick together–”

“I know what I said–”

“Then why?--”

“Things have changed. I wasn’t expecting them to leave us alone with all of them. This is easier now. You’ll stay here and hold our cover while I go and snoop around. I’ll come back for you if I find anything.”

“But–”

“Listen. Someone needs to stay here or we’ll get punished for leaving our post. I’m the one who understands black speech between the two of us. You won’t be any help to me out there. Got it?”

Tyelkormo chewed his lower lip. A habit Beleg had come to know as an anxious one. He didn’t look happy at the prospect of being left alone.

He was scared, and Beleg could see it. He wished he could offer him some comfort. A gentle pat to the back. A hug, perhaps. But Yrch did not hug each other. They didn’t comfort each other. They would sooner eat each other alive than do either of those things. And Beleg didn’t want any attention on them, even from the prisoners.



Tyelkormo nodded at last, and Beleg sighed in relief.



He looked back at the slaves with their stomachs as content as they could be who were now leaning against the jagged stones of the walls, resting until it started all over again. He nodded at Tyelko and started walking away before he realized something.

“Don’t talk to anyone.”

“You told me that already.”

“Well, they think you don’t have a tongue now, so don’t even try it.”



And with the kid’s confused eyes following his steps, he disappeared down one of the hallways, hoping he would remember his way back.



~~~



Tyelkormo could taste the blood. He wasn’t sure if it was the stink of the prisoners’ wounds or their dinner. It took him some time to realize it was his own flesh bleeding into his mouth. He breathed out roughly, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop chewing and pulling the skin of his lips.



Beleg had been gone for a while now. He couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours. There was no Tree light or even the faint shimmering light of the stars to help determine time here. By the sacred fire, there was not even a single torch light inside this chamber.

It was damp, it stank of urine and waste, and Tyelko was starting to struggle with his breathing because why was Beleg not back yet–



“Where is he off to?”

Tyelkormo would not admit it later, but he squeaked.

He flinched away and turned to his left to find one of the prisoners.

The man was tall. Taller than him. Hells, he might have been taller than Maitimo too, even. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell.

His dark hair was cut short and matted against his head like it had not been washed for a while and a scar ran from the corners of his lips up to his ears, like a child’s attempts at drawing a smiley face.

He blinked as he cocked his head to the side, a slow smirk growing on his face. What did he have to laugh about, he wondered?

“What? Cat got your tongue? Or did Gorthaur?”



Others were starting to watch them now. Some scared, some confused. Tyelko empathized with both.



Well, they think you don’t have a tongue now, so don’t even try it.



Did the prisoners know that too? And if he spoke, would it not be suspicious? What tongue should he use, even? Wait, did the nér just–

“I can see through your spell, child.”

Tyelko gasped and took a step back. The man’s smile deepened as he took another step forward with him. The scars made him resemble one of the many drawings of spirits Laurë used to scare him with as a child.

“Don’t be afraid, little bird. We are not snitches. We all know what happens to snitches. Am I right, everyone?”



The others were all watching them now. Tyelkormo’s breathing hitched. One of the níssi spoke up at last.

“Have you gone mad at last, Rhaug?”

Her dark hair was not any longer than her friend, and her tired eyes were watching them with both fear and defiance.

“Not any more mad than I was, my love. You do not see what I see, I assume?”

“And what do you see?”

“The child within this thrall?”



The woman huffed in annoyance, turned towards him, and Tyelkormo stumbled a little at the shocked gasp she let out.

And she was only the first. Soon, exclaims of surprise and shock could be heard echoing across the entire chamber, and with each one, the little pebble blocking Tyelko’s throat only got bigger and bigger.



He took a shuddering breath, his gaze surveying each pair of eyes now staring at him. Some, curious. Some, suspicious. And some, concerned.

“How–”

“How I saw through your expertly woven spell? Don’t take it to heart. Not many of them can get past my eyes. You have done a good job if you could get this far.”

“Wh…what?”

Something in his gaze softened, and he held up his shackled hands towards the others approaching. All but the woman heeded his command and halted. She walked up to him, sliding up next to him, clicking like a lock and a key. Rhaug threw her a fond glance before looking at him again.

“Poor kid. What was Beleg thinking, leaving him here all alone?”



Wait– did…did they know Beleg?



The nís’ eyes widened, and Tyelkormo felt a kinship towards her he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Beleg?! He is here too?”

“Yes. the one who just left. I’d recognize the captain anywhere. Though I doubt he remembered me.”

“What are they doing here?”

“Tis what I’m trying to figure out, my love.”

He turned towards Tyelkormo once again, his gaze softening a little.

“Told you, son. No need to be afraid. We mean you no harm. We can hardly do much to begin with.”

He shook his hands, the clicking and clanking of the chains echoing inside Tyelko’s head and snapping him out of his head.

“I… I’m not afraid.”

The man smiled, and something…something had changed in the way Tyelko saw him now. The smile was still creepy, but somehow, he could find beauty in it too.

“Whatever you say, child. Now, care to enlighten me as to what you are doing here? Hardly a place to wander in with no purpose.”

Tyelkormo breathed out. He looked at the pair, then at the expectant crowd. They flinched a little when they met his gaze, but their curious eyes never left him.



“What…what happens to snitches?”

Rhaug’s grin broadened, and his yellowing teeth made Tyelkormo look away in disgust despite himself.

“They might fall on something sharp while working. Accidents, you know? Happens to the best of us. Can happen to all of us.”

Tyelkormo’s eyes widened, even though he had hardly expected anything else. He exhaled with a nod.

“I’m here to save someone. Beleg went to snoop around, seeing if he could find them or not. I am to wait here until he gets back.”

Rhaug hummed and beckoned him over as he and his lady settled down on the ground. Tyelkormo looked perplexed for a moment. When he realized what the other was asking of him, he had to fight back the grimace of disgust with all his might. To sit down there, where they probably relieved themselves–



You don’t want to break them more than they already are…



He breathed in and sat down gingerly, mentally glad when he did not feel anything through his clothes.

“You’re here for some prince or lord, I gather?”

Rhaug’s voice had him look up immediately.

“How did you–”

“If he’s alive and not here with us, it means he is one of the important ones. They don’t hold them with us and frankly, I’m glad. I don’t want to become Gorthaur’s plaything more than I already am.”

“Are they…”

“Alive?” Rhaug sighed, a sound filled with sorrow that chilled Tyelko to the bone. It did not settle even as the man nodded solemnly.

“And they wish they weren’t. Gorthaur…”

Tyelkormo looked around himself at the sounds of whines and whimpers, filled with pure terror, and wondered who this Gorthaur was.

“He is cruel. And he is intelligent. A combination you would want to avoid. Balchon leaves the important slaves to him, and he knows how to make them all sing. They all have a weakness, and Gorthaur’s favorite hobby is to find them and exploit them.”



A chill ran down Tyelkormo’s spine as the string of words lost their meaning inside his head. All he could imagine was his brother’s face, distorted in pain and anguish as some creature, not unlike the Ōmata he had met, slashed at him with sharp nails and sharper blades, asking him questions and dragging out information as his brother clung to his sanity.



“Do you know where they are being held?”

Tyelko didn’t know where this sudden composure was coming from. He did not feel like crying. His voice didn’t shake. Even if his heart was trying to tear open his chest and go after Maitimo itself, his body seemed to be the level-headed one for once.



Rhaug grimaced, and his ladylove glanced at him sadly. She reached out to caress his trembling hands, and Tyelkormo didn’t have it in himself to care about the filthy stains her touch left behind on him.

“This place is a maze. We do not venture to places we are not meant to. Straight to the forge and back here. All day, everyday. Rinse and repeat. I wish we could help you kid, but…”



Tyelkormo nodded, swallowing down the scream of frustration. There he was, left alone by Beleg because apparently, he was useless, and just as he had imagined he could actually have a shot at this, all his hopes were drowned in the deep waters again.



“Although…” Rhaug sighed, and closed his eyes with a deep breath.

“What?”

“I’m not sure if I should–”

“What?!”

Tyelkormo interrupted him with a louder voice than he had meant to. He winced and threw him an apologetic look. Rhaug didn’t seem offended. Just uncomfortable.

“Gorthaur’s symbol. If you follow it, perhaps it will lead you there.”

“What does it look like?”

“But–”

“Listen, I’ve come all the way here. I’ve endangered my life already. What is one more obstacle? Please, don’t let me leave here empty-handed.”

“Kid–”

“We’ll…we’ll have a deal. How does that sound? I’ll set you all free, and you tell me where I can find my brother.”

Tyelkormo wasn’t sure if he was under a spell of a completely different kind now or not. By the sympathetic looks sent his way by Rhaug and his woman, it looked like they, too, thought the same.



It sounds fair to me, sweet boy.



The voice whispered, wise and intelligent and reassuring. Tyelkormo preened under its proud tone, and just like that, his confidence doubled and tripled until it was overflowing. Suddenly, the thought of setting dozens of people free didn’t sound impossible at all.



“You don’t have a key.”

Another younger voice chimed in from the crowd.



You don’t need one.

Tyelkormo breathed. It sounded right. He needed none. He was ready as he was.

“I don’t need one.”



Another spoke up.

“How are you going to help us, then?”



Remember your brother’s little trick. Metal expands. Metal also shrinks. Your flame shall be enough to see them to the end.

Will it, father?

…I’ll make sure of it.



Tyelkormo held out his hands towards Rhaug, a silent permission. A single request. Can I?

Rhaug opened his mouth, closed it, before he held out his own bound and shackled hands towards Tyelkormo. In his eyes lay no fear, only doubt.



Tyelkormo touched the chains gingerly. He reached out to the metal with his light, and poked around the crannies and surfaces, looking for the magic residing within. The flames lapped at his own subtle and low ember, attacking like a sea of arrows released at once. Yet, even if strong for someone else, it failed to scare him off, for that is all it could. It held no real strength. Just illusions, much like Tyelkormo’s own little trick.



The bad-tempered mutt now lies still. It’s your turn. Show it who rules.

Tyelkormo breathed out and chanted, quietly at first, so only him and Rhaug could hear it.

“Tinco ar ondo, a pihta nu canienya!”



The needle-like flame burned and burned and burned until there was nothing left but ash and smoke of the magic and in its place, now formed a lilac spark. It was small, and it looked like nothing at first glance, but much like a tree, it had now rooted itself inside those cursed chains, and it would be hard to wriggle it out.



The lock clicked, and the chains clinked as they fell upon the ground.



Tyelkormo raised his head and met the shocked gaze of Rhaug with his own defiant one. The elder said nothing at first. Appearing incapable of it, in fact.

So Tyelkormo turned his gaze towards the others. Some were watching him with awe, and some with wariness and poorly veiled hostility he couldn’t quite fathom.

“Well, who is next?”



“What happens after you have freed us, little savior?”

A woman sneered as she limped towards him. She looked to be older, or perhaps her days here had aged her so. Tyelkormo couldn’t quite tell.

“You’ll leave. I’ll go after my brother.”

She scoffed and turned towards the rest.

“Do you think none of us could have done this before? So what now? Our hands are free. How are we going to get out without dying–”

“You are going to die anyway.”

Tyelkormo muttered as his fiery gaze found the woman’s shocked ones. He then turned towards the mine workers, and could see the realization dawn upon their faces.

“You all saw that man. He was your friend, and he was tossed aside like a piece of garbage. I’m sure he had not been the first to go either. You stay here, you are going to be next. They might be able to take you one by one, but together? Together, you will have a chance.”

He paused, looked around himself, and he was sad to still find hesitant faces. Couldn’t they see the truth in front of them?

“I’m not going to lie. Some of you will die. But if you stay here, you will all die. At least out there, you can go while you are still yourselves! If you don’t stand united, they will take you one by one. You’ll die starving and enslaved, but if you pass braving this escape? You’ll be free. And the land you’ll wake up on? It’s… it’s beautiful. And it’s safe. No thrall shall ever touch you again.”



The crowd mumbled and whispered amongst themselves in the same language he had come to know as Sindarin. The woman joined in with an annoyed tone, but not before throwing a glare at him.

Rhaug and his lady were frowning and looking at her now, and Tyelkormo, though left out of the conversation, could see in the way that most of them looked at him that his words were swaying some wills towards himself.



“Enough! You can’t tell me you all bought his nonsense about the Blessed Lands! They are all liars! The Gods are none but Balchon’s own brethren! How are they supposed to be better than him? They promised us safety, but are we safe now?! There’s no such thing as a Blessed place for us. We’re all doomed! Better live whatever is left of our lives here than waste it on promises from someone we don’t even know! Why, because he’s fair of words and face, am I to put my life in his hands?”

Then she turned to him, her gaze blurry with angry tears.

“What right do you have to tell us what to do?”

Tyelkormo gulped. Indeed, what right did he have? He had not gone through a day of their lives, and he had never been in their shoes. He had never been as scared as they were everyday. What right did he have?



None, but perhaps you should ask yourself, what responsibility do you have, my love.



He looked at their terrified faces, and his heart broke all over again. If Maitimo had been there, he would have words to tell them. Reassuring words. Compassionate ones. Tyelkormo had none of those things. He was the blunt and bitter bark to his brother’s sweet fruit, though they were both rooted in the same tree.

What he knew was that if Maitimo had been there, he wouldn’t have left these people alone. If he had seen what Tyelko had seen, if had watched that man die like Tyelko had, he would have done everything within his power to save them, even if the enemy he had to fight was none but the people themselves.



He turned back his gaze towards the woman, the steel in his eyes softening when he saw her as what she truly was, his responsibility. He stood up, took a deep breath, and looked back at the crowd.



“Blessed lands are as real as I am. I was born there. I grew up there. The light of its trees still burns within me. There are houses being built for any of you whose fates lead there as we speak. My uncle rules it, and he is as fair and just as Eru meant for a king to be. The Valar might be liars, but Nolofinwë is not. Put your trust not in Gods, but in someone you had already given it to. You trusted Finwë and Elwë and you followed them. Now put it in me, their son. I speak naught but truth as I know it. If Eru’s will is for you to perish when you brave those gates of hell, then one day, it will be my uncle whose protection you will be under. And if not, then go west until you reach a camp. Go to Makalaurë and tell him I, Tyelkormo Turcafinwë, sent you. You will be under my protection, even if I don’t make it there alive.”



He heard more mumbling and conversation. It seemed someone was translating what he had just said, as he caught them mentioning his own name if nothing more.



He felt a hand clapping his shoulder, and turned to find none but Rhaug himself.



“I don’t know about you, but either way sounds better to me than this crappy thing we call life.”

He kicked away his cuffs and chains and turned towards him.

“Teach me your spell. We will work faster with the two of us.”



(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)

 

[Tyelkormo the Fair]

Chapter 9: You'll Never Walk Alone​

Beleg traced his finger over the Cirth mark he had engraved on the stone of the walls. It was small, and not really noticeable if you weren't looking for it. It said little but a direction. Left.



The more his path twisted and the more he delved into this maze, he had realized he could not possibly rely on memory alone. This place was a labyrinth. An evil maze that was meant to drown anyone who wasn’t meant to be in it,and as much of a good swimmer as Beleg was, he still needed places to hold, and if that meant taking a small risk by leaving behind footprints, then so be it.



And Beleg needed to breathe. He needed to live. For Elmo, for Timo, and for Tyelko who waited for him. Who couldn’t and likely wouldn’t leave this place without him.



He looked at the path ahead, wondering once again, which one to choose. The hallway splitted into two. One was lit by torches, and the other dark as a starless sky.



Beleg was stumped. If he could dare to be honest with himself, he had been stumped the second he left Tyelkormo’s side. He didn’t know these halls. He had little to no idea where he was heading to, what to look for. His eyes would wander, looking for strands of silver or fiery red, but besides hideous faces of passing Yrch, he had found no other living thing.



Was it too soon to give up? Should he return to Tyelkormo so they could return the next day?



Before he could further consider his choices, they were made for him. He could see shadows moving within the torch lit path, and he could hear voices, too, conversing vaguely in black speech.



He had avoided letting them see him, the few he had encountered so far. He wasn’t sure someone as lowly as Beleg looked was allowed in wherever he had been, and he didn’t want to come up with excuses as to what, exactly, he was doing there.



Beleg took a breath and without further delay, he took the path into the dark. His prayer a silent chant, he asked Eru to grant him luck so the Yrch would not head his way.



Seconds passed. The voices grew closer. He recognized them as belonging to two. He sighed, a little relieved. Even if by some chance this led to a fight, Beleg could take on two.

They came until they reached the end where the way splitted into two. They paused, and Beleg stopped breathing.



“I wond’r wha’ master hides there. It’s always dark.”

“Not for our eyes, Snaga. Get on if you don’ wan’ them whips.”



The one called Snaga hummed absentmindedly. A second passed and then another. And before he knew, they were gone, walking away and towards where Beleg had come from.

He finally allowed himself to exhale as he held himself up by his hands on his knees.

He glanced around himself, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He knew he had been alone, but it was only now he got the chance to notice more.



The first thing, perhaps, was the scent of decay. Perhaps all of Angband stank of this old, moldy stench, but there was something different about it.

This, Beleg would recognize anywhere. It smelled like the carcass of a deer left by the side of the road, half eaten and half rotten. It was sweet, sickly so, and it made him want to pull off his nose just so he would not smell it anymore.



It smelled of death, and Beleg knew this well.



His eyes roamed the ground first. Perhaps a rat had died and was stinking up the whole place?

Yet, his eyes found nothing. He could not bring himself to believe it was a rat, if he were to be honest. The rats smelled, but this stench spoke of something bigger.



He held himself upright as his curiosity led him further down. The smell aside, this part of the fortress seemed to be off limits to the likes of those Yrch and Beleg himself, probably.



Could he hope for it to lead somewhere he wished for? Did Balchon and Gorthaur have special Yrch attend the royal prisoners? Were they exclusively reserved for themselves?



The heavy musk got stronger the more Beleg walked, and with it his hope shrunk until it was naught but a candle flame. Yet, something bade him to continue, and Beleg was rarely left disappointed by his senses.



His feet led him to giant dual doors, black as the rest of his surroundings. They went high up to the ceiling. He reached out to touch the handles, and he felt the shiver run down his spine from the cold metal under his hand.



He pushed them open.



The doors did not make a sound as they opened. As if his host favored this above all. He spent enough time here to make sure it was maintained at all times. The door had no lock on it. No one would dare disturb him in this space, after all.



It smelled of death. It smelled of all things foul. It smelled evil. Beleg didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to go in–



The gust of wind made him gag, and his feet took him inside before he could even comprehend it.



The door closed behind him as quietly, and Beleg almost wished it would have been slammed shut loudly just so it would have given some sort of color to this place. Just to make it come alive. Just a little.

Nausea was making it harder for him to think. He needed to find it, the cause of this aroma of death.



His wandering gaze searched through the darkness. At first, it took him some time to adjust his eyes to the light.



Perhaps that was why he spotted the silvery strands first. They were lighter, of course. They had always been a problem for him. He couldn’t hunt as easily as Beleg did. He couldn’t spy as easily as Beleg did. He couldn’t hide, either.



Perhaps that was why they had to meet here, again. Beleg, clad in his hunter garb and coated in a foul hide, and Elmo…



Those empty eye sockets stared deep into his soul as Beleg heaved and fell to his knees. They judged him. They berated him. They hated him.



His mouth remained closed, but Beleg could hear his voice echoing in the chamber over and over.



Too late. Too late. Too late–



It took him a moment to realize it was his own voice.



He looked away from where his eyes were supposed to be, only to wish he had not done so.



Next to the neatly placed head of his brother lay a mangled face. His jaw hung open, the bone having been torn apart from the flesh in the most violent way which told him the cause of it had been no accident.



Yet, even if mangled and disfigured, Beleg would recognize those proud brows and that chiseled face anywhere.



His hand gripped the fabric of his shirt over his heart as the first sob broke out of his throat.



What does your brother look like? Who does he favor? Finwe or Miriel?



He is taller than me by a head and has auburn red hair, and he looks more like my grandfather than either of his sons do.



He closed his eyes as Tyelkormo’s voice echoed inside his head.

He had to go. He had to let him know.



~~~



Beleg took the last turn then, and his wounded heart leaped in relief when he spotted the hallway leading to the very dim chamber he had started from. He ran as swiftly as he could and broke into the dim room, his breath heaving and heavy.



Please, let the brutes not be back–



His eyes widened at the scene in front of him. The Yrch were not back, but no one else was there.



His frantic eyes searched for the familiar head of snow white hair, before he remembered, Tyelko would not look like that.

Not only Tyelko, but no one was actually there. None from dozens of prisoners. Had he been gone for too long? Were they back in the mines already?



Beleg took a deep breath, swallowing the urge to shout and yell Tyelkormo’s name.

It was then, he heard it. Sounds of shouting. They spoke of pain, of rage, and of defiance. And the voices were sweet and musical in the way only eldarin’s could be.



There was a commotion happening outside in the tunnels. The prisoners were not there. Tyelkormo was not there. Beleg’s gut felt hollow and empty as his weak steps took him back the way he had come only a few hours ago.



The voices became clearer the closer he got, and he could finally hear what they had been chanting all along.



“Fear not! Fear not! We stand as one!”



Young voices. Old voices. Male and female. Their sounds entwined, they pushed back against the few overwhelmed guards. They held their chains in their hands, swinging them for they had nothing else in which to defend themselves with.



“Captain!”

An achingly familiar voice called out. Beleg turned, and found the scarred face of the man struggling against one of the larger thralls. His face screwed up and tense, he was trying and failing to keep away the jagged blade of the orch from his face.

Beleg didn’t hesitate. His short blade was unsheathed in a second and screwed in the creature’s neck the other. The orch fell, and the man breathed.



Beleg’s eyes were wide. The crowds fell silent. Everyone was staring at him. He inhaled sharply as the shocked gaze of the orch captain turned vicious in the span of a second.

Beleg knew he stood bare of his disguise, but he had little time to care for it as the Yrch growled, their raging eyes glued to him.



Another wave of roars and shouts erupted among the prisoners who attacked their guards with newfound vigour.



The orch captain still watched Beleg. He swung his rusty blade in his hand and screeched. Beleg rolled his eyes, sparing a glance at his lost blade the scarred man had picked up. He felt some regret over its loss, but he had won fights with bigger and stronger opponents before, even unarmed.

He could hold his own.



He stepped aside for the orch to stagger away in his attempt to slice him through and unsheathed his boot knife in a quick motion, grinning viciously.

“Slow. So slow. You gave up your gift from Ilúvatar for this, filth?”

He did not use black speech anymore. He knew the captain understood Sindarin just fine, and he refused to use the only word for divinity used in the tongue of the thralls. It did not refer to the God Beleg worshipped.

He watched in satisfaction as the orch winced in pain when he heard The One’s name, and in his moment of distraction, he managed to land a shallow cut on his unarmed shoulder. This one creature was not of a high enough rank to wear a full body armour of iron. He hadn’t needed one. His only duty had been to beat and scare meek slaves into submission and feed them on occasion. None of them were supposed to fight back against him. None of this was supposed to happen.



He could see the fear and confusion in his eyes as he watched his skin bleed down his arm and on the ground, and Beleg himself wondered what had come to pass for it to lead to such an uproar.



He risked a quick glance around, hoping and silently praying to spot the mop of white hair, but he had to look back at the now focused orch. The creature glared at him viciously, raised his sword with his faltering arms, and charged.

Beleg swung to the side, barely avoiding the heavy blade, and exhaled sharply as the orch’s elbow knocked the breath out of him.

He stumbled backwards and rolled out of the way of another swing, though this time, he was not lucky enough to come out unscathed. The blade nicked his elbow, and Beleg winced at the sudden sharp pain.



He staggered to his feet, holding the knife tightly in his right hand, and with his other, he scooped the dirt beneath his feet. The orch chuckled darkly, walking towards him slowly, his blade twisting in his hand.

Once Beleg deemed him close enough, he threw the fistful of dirt at his face. The captain yelled in surprise, but Beleg did not give him a chance for more. The orch fell with Beleg’s knife nailed in his forehead.



He spared no more than a second to catch his breath before he snatched his weapon free of his enemy’s skull and the creature’s fallen blade. He glanced around himself, and a quiet gasp left his mouth at the scene in front of him.



The prisoners were pushing the guards back. At least, what remained of them. Though none of them held any real weapon, the cuffs and their chains appeared to be sufficient enough to beat the Yrch to death. He looked at the ground littered with half almost a dozen bodies, and his heart ached with pain when he spotted some elven bodies, even if it soared with a twisted joy at the sight of fallen thralls, beaten to a dark, bloody pulp.



The scarred one stabbed yet another orch. Beleg exhaled and stood to walk towards the crowd of prisoners, and the sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through him when he saw the guards shrink in fear at his presence. He had just taken their boss with nothing but a small boot knife. Now, with the long blade swinging in his hold, he knew well what image he painted, and he knew none of them would dare meet him head on, especially not outnumbered like they were.



Beleg knew it was time to finish this, whatever it was. He turned to the crowd of elves, and his command rang clear in the tunnel.

“Pick up their blades if you can. We should finish this now if we wish to leave.”

A short silence followed his order, before a handful of the stronger men ran to do as they were told. Beleg placed himself between the weaker and wounded elves and the guards, his teeth bare, a mocking dare in his eyes none of them had the guts to pick up on.



In a matter of seconds, the handful of guards were surrounded. Armed with blades and a renewed hope, they made quick work of them. Beleg focused on protecting the vulnerable ones, and catching the one who, having given up on its prisoners, was trying to escape. It met the end of Beleg’s sword and fell to the ground as the Scarred Face slit the throat of the last one. It gurgled and fell upon his feet.

Scarred Face panted, looking exhausted in every possible way, yet the light in his eyes shone like those of a free man.

He looked at the dead thing under his feet, and then at Beleg. He grinned, and Beleg found himself returning it.



“Captain! Did not think you would be back so soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Scarred Face’s grin dropped and was replaced by a look of confusion. He looked around Beleg, and then back towards the end of the tunnel. Beleg saw him pale visibly, and something dropped down the pit in his stomach.

“He didn’t…he didn’t find you…”

“...who?”

Beleg already knew, but he had to ask.

“The boy with snow white hair. He said he would try to find you after he freed us–”

“Where did he go?!”



Scarred Face looked at him with sadness and before glancing back at the crowd of elves. Fearful pairs of eyes met Beleg’s own devastated ones.

“He went after his brother. Said he would try to find you if he could. We were meant to go ahead and seek his other brothers for protection.”

Scarred Face looked down with a sorrowful sigh, and when he turned towards Beleg again, his teary eyes shone with determination.

“He made me promise I would not wait for him. And in all fairness, I don’t think I can. I have to lead my people out of this thrice cursed fortress. If it was only death awaiting us, then I would have risked going back for him, but we can’t take the grief of slavery once more now that we are free.”



Beleg could only nod. He turned back towards the end of the tunnel, his sharp ears failing to detect any sounds of footsteps, neither light or heavy. Everything was clear.



“Come with us, Beleg.”

The voice was feminine and yet rough. As if she had spent too many years with her screams echoing amongst these very tunnels. She probably had.

Beleg turned towards her, anger coiling in his heart but all the rage calmed down once he saw her pitiful state. One of her feet failed to keep up her weight, measly as it was. Beleg could tell she would never be able to run again even if she regained her full strength one day.

“Lead us out of here. The boy is one, and we are many. We need you more. I know if you close your heart and see with the eye of your mind, you can see it too.”

“If the boy had done as you just said, you would have still been in chains, woman.”

There was no heat behind his words. Both of them were stating facts. Beleg, too, knew she spoke truly. He had failed to save his best friend. He had been too late, but now, he had the chance to save and help these people he had longed to save and help every time he had scouted this area.



But that meant leaving Tyelko to his fate, whatever it was. He shut his eyes as a fresh wave of tears prickled behind his eyelids.

“The boy spoke of beautiful and safe lands beyond death, captain. I don’t wish to leave him behind either, but even if this is where his path leads, it’s not a distasteful one. Come with us. I believe this is what he would wish for you to do, too.”



Beleg exhaled sharply. It sounded suspiciously like a sob.



“Get a move on. We have a long way ahead.”



~~~



Tyelkormo eyed the path ahead, and gulped loudly when he saw what he had been searching for all along.



The single Eye, painted in a dark color upon the door on the other end of the hallway greeted him.



This corridor leads to the forges. There’s a hallway Gorthaur disappears in sometimes when he doesn’t have anything more to tell us and teach us. I don’t know where it leads. Never dared to look, but there’s a door on the other end. There’s a symbol on it. Gorthaur’s symbol. One eye with a slit pupil. You’ll know it when you see it.



Rhaug had patted his shoulder gently. His gaze worried and reluctant, he had wished him luck and had sent him off.



Now, having found what he had been told to, Tyelkormo was hesitant. There was just something about this side of the fortress that just felt more sinister than the other parts.

He wasn’t sure why he felt that way. It looked considerably cleaner and more well-kept, and perhaps this was why it made him feel off. Or perhaps it was all he had heard about the creature which owned these halls and was responsible for all the pain his brother had and was going through which made him wary and on edge.



But it could be a good thing, he thought. Being on edge meant he would be more careful, and that could help him survive this hell and save his brother and his mysterious uncle as well.



He exhaled sharply and went to take a step forward when a jarring sound broke the silence.

Before his eyes, the rusty door moved as it was pushed open.

Tyelkormo did not wait to see who was on the other side. He ran out of sight and back into the empty forge. He looked around himself, searching for a hiding place as he pulled his cloak closer to himself. The only place he could think was under the tables where spreads of sheets and designs laid bare. It was only open on one side, and if he were to cramp his form tightly under it, he might be able to cover his tracks until whoever it was left and Tyelkormo could resume his search.



He dove under it just as the jarring sound was heard again, and the door was shut.

He pulled his cloak tightly around himself until there was only a small space left for him to breathe, and his ears sharpened in attention to the sound of footsteps bringing the stranger closer and closer until the sound no longer echoed from far away, but inside the halls.



Tyelkormo’s heart hammered inside his chest as the footsteps came to a stop, and somewhere too close for comfort to him.



His ears picked up the sound of quiet, even breathings, and then, the sound of something which closely resembled those of rustling wings. The air moved as a commotion was caused in the room. The papers rustled upon the table, and Tyelkormo wanted to cry out in frustration at this miserable situation he was stuck in.



Then, everything came to a stop. The air was still once again, and one of the parchment pieces swayed and swayed until it fell under the table, and Tyelkromo felt it touch his foot as sharply as the tip of a needle.



The silence was once again broken by the sound of a sickly sweet feminine laughter. Tyelkormo flinched lightly as the voice echoed, and before he could compose himself, he heard the intruder speak.

“I can hear your heart beating wildly, little birdy. Come out! Don’t be so shy…”

Tyelkormo’s limbs were cold. Then, they were hot. He felt like he might crack and give himself away at any moment, then. He bit his lips before he could let out any unwanted voice. She hadn’t found him yet. She would have come for him otherwise–



Something wrapped around his right foot, and before he could do as much as scream, he was yanked out from his hiding place and pulled on the ground.

The invisible force let him go in a second, but before he could even do as much as whimper in pain as he was dragged, a hand circled around his throat. Tyelkormo felt himself being pulled up and slammed against the wall. He choked out a pitiful groan, his blurry gaze falling on a pair of laughing eyes.



The woman tightened her hold, and giggled as he choked on his words again. Tyelkormo’s hands reached out to pull hers off, scratching and clawing just to slacken her hold a little but to no avail.



“Birdy, birdy…told you to come out on your own! Thuringwethil doesn’t like waiting. And she doesn’t like it when thralls don’t listen…”

She frowned thoughtfully, her red rimmed black eyes narrowing as she reached out to caress his face with her long nails. The touch stung, but it was the least of Tyelkormo’s concern.

“You are not a thrall, though. Not yet…”



She pushed her body closer to his, and Tyelko recoiled as her breath blew into his face.

“Tell me, birdy… What are you doing, wandering around in Mairon’s forge? Are you spying, perhaps?”

With that, she squeezed his throat a little tighter before slackening her hold, if only a bit.

Tyelkormo’s eyes focused once more as he gulped the air with greed, and he watched as her vicious grin widened. The sight of her fangs sent shivers down his spine, and he whimpered as she pushed herself against him again. Her nose grazed his cheekbone and jaw as she sniffed his neck and face, and Tyelko felt tears stinging behind his closed eyelids in disgust.



“Did anyone see you come here, birdy?”

Tyelkormo breathed out sharply and remained silent. He felt her hold tightening in warning once again, and he had no choice but to answer her with a shake of his head.

She hummed, and Tyelkormo’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach seeing her off-putting smile. Something felt deeply wrong.

“It would be a loss for such a fair face to be ruined under the hands of thralls, hm?”



Was….was she going to let him go?

Her wandering fingers moved up until her nail was scratching the delicate skin of his left eyelid.

Tyelkormo’s necklace burned his skin, but he didn’t dare to do as much as blink or risk losing his eye. A voice echoed inside his head, and it took him a few seconds to realize it was his father again.



Your knife! Pull out your knife! Come on, boy–



Right. Right. He had to do something. He had to free himself, somehow. Kill her if he could, and then go after Maitimo again.

“What… are you…going to do?”

His voice sounded hoarse and his words came out in broken bits. His fearful eyes locked into her dancing ones. He tried to keep her focus away from his hand reaching behind his back for his blade.

The woman laughed again, showing off her fangs with the sole purpose of scaring him. He didn't want to admit how much it was affecting him.

“Nothing! Nothing you wouldn’t like, little birdy.”

She cooed as she leaned in closer until her breath touched his skin. The stink of her mouth had him breathing through his mouth for a second.

It was fine. He was almost there. He almost had the handle in his grasp–



The fingers and nails dug into his neck until Tyelkormo saw black. His hold around the handle became slack, and he could hear her amused chuckle.

“Naughty naughty little birdy! You saw my pretty face and took me for an idiot, too? Men…all of you are the same. I was planning to give you a little gift and let you go, but you don’t deserve it. You give me no choice. I just had dinner, but I have space for a little snacking. I’ll save the rest of you for later.”



Then, she threw him on the ground. Tyelkormo began coughing, his airway free and clear for the first time in the last few minutes. Through his blurry gaze, he could see her form and enormous bat wings looming over him.



In the blink of an eye, she was straddling him, and her fangs were piercing the skin of his throat. At first, the pain was barely beyond the sting of a scraped knee, but seconds passed, and with it, the pain increased and it left him a whimpering mess.

He could feel his mind battling to stay sober through the pain. The pendant was blistering the skin of his chest, and for some reason, it was enough to keep him conscious. The quiet voice at the back of his mind was getting louder and louder now and with it, he could feel the warmth of his necklace pulse and get stronger and stronger.



Come on, boy! You have to do something! Don’t give up! I would not have you waste away here! Come on, Turco–



His hand gripped helplessly at the ground beneath him. The woman was breathing in his throat as she lapped the blood sipping out of the punctures.

He was trying, but his dagger was trapped beneath him now, and her weight and his own weakening state left him helpless in every way.

Was this how it was supposed to end for him, after all? Was this what killed him–



His fingers grazed something cool and metallic. Then, the smooth surface of leather and threads. Like a hilt–



His unfocused eyes looked down at what he had found, and it took him a while to realize what he was touching. His grandfather’s creation blinked innocently at him under the torch light.

Tyelkormo exhaled sharply, and winced when a hand gripped his chin and turned his face sharply to the side.



Blood dripped down the woman’s chin. She was smiling as she caressed his eyelid again.

“You have such pretty eyes. Never seen anything like it before in thralls. It’s not blue. It’s not red. It’s purple like Mairon’s favorite robes. What do you say, birdy? Should I let them go to waste when I dump you somewhere,--”

His shaking hand reached and groped blindly for the leather again. He had to do something, and do it quickly.

“-- or should I save them as gifts for Mairon? Hmmm…”

She dragged her nail back and forth under his eye, and Tyelkormo could see the moment the nefarious light in her eye brightened, that she had come to a decision. He pulled the knife closer until he could grip it in his weakening hold.



Her nail clawed into his eye socket. He raised his blade, and their screams rang clear in the room at the same time. He could feel her blood trickle down and soak his clothes, but the throbbing pain in his eye barely let any other thought and feeling decipher in his mind. His body felt hot, and he could hear himself pant and whimper.



Her weight, which had doubled as she had become limp as a result of his attack, was suddenly gone.

Tyelkormo inhaled sharply as someone pulled at his arm and dragged him to a standing position in a swift motion. His knees threatened to give in under him, but whoever was holding him up had no intention of letting him go. Tyelkormo leaned into their hold as his trembling hand reached out to hold onto his bleeding eye.

“--urco! Turco!”



The person shouted, and Tyelkormo turned sharply to look at him, only to find a pair of tearful and bright silver eyes staring at him.

Fëanáro was panting and looking at him, at his eyes, with worry, and Tyelko didn’t know what to think anymore or what to believe. What was happening? Was he real, or was it Ōmata again, dragging him out of the hold of another predator just to take him himself?



“It’s me! It’s really me! See, the jewel is not shining!”

He reached out to pull the necklace from under his shirt, and true to his words, it was only glowing softly like it did sometimes in the presence of his father. Not the wild and fiery light which he had used to push Ōmata away.



Tyelkormo gulped and flinched as he heard a feminine moan. Fëanáro’s eyes widened and he pulled him away. Tyelkormo stumbled and managed to keep himself upright as they took a route into a hallway.

Tyelkormo wasn’t sure where they were going, yet he didn’t stop either. His father’s hands were warm and safe around him, and Tyelko could only focus on keeping himself from falling into the abyss of his mind.



He could hear shouts and laboured breaths coming from behind them, and each time they would get closer, his father would speed up.



They ran and walked and dragged their feet for what seemed like forever, until the atmosphere around them changed. Tyelkormo coughed as he smelled smoke, yet he felt a strange relief as the soft wind caressed his face. The outside air gave him a small boost, and he managed to keep up with the last few steps without stumbling.

His bleary eyes took in his surroundings. Flickering torches and shocked thralls stared back at him.



“Damn it damn it damn it–”

“Atya?”

Fëanáro looked down at him and pulled him up and closer as they took a few steps to the side. Tyelkormo looked down, but instead of the solid ground, he found feet of height. The ground beneath them was dark, but he could tell the distance was enough to break bones and snatch lives.



A shrill screeching sound broke the silence around them. The woman with bat wings had caught up to them, and now stood upon the entrance.

Tyelkormo’s eye throbbed as a reminder, and his body felt like it was submerged under cold water.

The woman limped and still bled from her neck, and her previously imposing figure looked pathetic in her pain and misery. Tyelko felt a sick satisfaction tingling in his mind, but it soon was forgotten in the favor of the situation he was stuck in. He had no way forward and now, he had none backwards either.



“You… you disgraceful, worthless thing! You just made it so much worse for yourself. I wanted to kill you quickly, but now I shall enjoy every moment of your miserable end.”



Tyelkormo exhaled, and looked up at his father as his hold tightened around him. Fëanáro pulled him fully in his arms until he was hiding him away in his embrace.

“We have to jump.”

Tyelkormo knew he should have reacted to it with more than just a single nod, but what choice did he have? He either stayed and let himself be captured, or jumped to a more peaceful death. Laid out plain and bare, it was hardly a choice worth considering.



“I won’t let you die, baby. I promise. Just fall.”

Tyelkormo closed his eyes to the woman, the world, his bleeding and wounded body screaming for some relief, and let himself fall.


(Link to he discussion thread and chapter guide)