Disclaimer- The canonic characters are the creation of Tolkien. I just borrow them.

Also posted on Archive of Our Own.

1. At Grandfather's Place

I do not understand why no one would tell me about them, the elfling in the corner mused as she watched her grandfather at work. Beads of sweat ran down his face into his beard from the flames. The ringing of the hammer upon metal reassured her. All was dark and cold outside. Inside the forge, it was bright and warm. The grownups whispered if they must speak. By their graveness, the young child learnt to be solemn. She learned to be quiet in her corner, and to keep clear of the flames which would burn her. Thus the apprentices and smiths tolerated her in their midst.

She had heard the whispers about her atar, who had sailed across the sea with his seven sons, before she was born. That was when the Darkness came. Amme would cry at times and she did not know the reason why. Her mother, who was once robust and hale, now lay gaunt and wan in bed. The grownups said she never recovered her strength after her last birth. They would take her to Lorien to heal once the dark and cold lifted. It was too risky to brave the road with torches alone. No one would speak to the child of her father and brothers.

"You are much like him… in your colour, at least…" one of her many aunts had remarked at dinner before her grandfather shushed her.

On silent feet, the child slipped back into the house, to the room where her amil lay bundled in blankets on a bed, tended to by her grandmother. She waited patiently in the shadows as her grandmother took the empty bowl and tray, and headed past her towards the kitchen.

"Amme?" the child ventured. She was rewarded with a sad smile from the weary nis lying on the pillows.

"What brings you here, little one?"

"Will you tell me about them, please?" Emboldened, the child clambered onto the bedclothes to be closer to her mother.

The smile died on the elf-woman's lips. For a moment, the elfling feared the tears would come.

"Where shall I start?" The smile returned to her mother. There was a wistful look in her green eyes as she spoke, as if she were looking into another time and space.

"Who are those who came before me, can you tell me please?"

"Ah, you wish to know about your brothers. The first is Maitimo. He is tall and has red hair, like your grandfather..."

"Does he have a beard like grandfather?"

"Nay, he's too young to have a beard. Moreover, beards are rare among our kind… Maitimo always watches out for his younger brothers… He would have helped take care of you too."

"I can take care of myself. Just ask grandfather," the elfling pouted. Her mother laughed softly.

"Indeed you can. Next was Makalaure. He is not as tall as Maitimo and his hair is dark. He used to play his harp and sing at the king's grand banquets. He is skilled on the harp and lute and had a golden voice…"

"Does he still sing for the king in the palace?"

"I should think not. It was the old king for whom he sang…"

"The one they say was killed when the Darkness came? Amme?" The tears came quickly now.

"I am weary now and must rest. Go find your grandfather…" Obediently, the child wandered off.

He had come to her then, after his father's death – a broken, hollow elf. She had comforted him the only way she could as his wife. After the twins they had not come together thus. In that new uncertain world lit only by the stars, they had lain together and in her arms she felt his spirit stir and reawaken. They did not know that a tiny spark of life had been created between them that dark night.


The elfling was ignored by most of the grownups. They worked hard and long. More lamps needed to be forged to light the city and the roads. Wood needed to be gathered to fuel the forges and homes for both warmth and light. New devices needed to be created to track time in this endless night. Her grandfather and the other master smiths have been called on by a lord who was greater and finer than any she had ever seen.

"Ah, Mahtan, what have we here? Already you have her in your forge, perhaps one day she'd be as proud a smith as her sire and brothers…" the lord had laughed and ruffled her hair as she sat toying with a piece of cast-off iron. She was not allowed to work with the tools and glowing metal yet.

"Forgive me, Lord Aule, we would rather she not. Seeing as to where her father's pride got us… Now, let's look at those plans for the parts you require of us for these vessels…"

Her grandfather and the best smiths left their city for Lord Aule's Mansions. Behind her grandmother's skirts, she bade them farewell at the door. Her mother was awake when she slipped into her room after dinner.

"Please tell me some more about my brothers," the elfling wheedled. Her mother smiled and beckoned her to come closer. Her voice was not as strong as it once was.

"After Maitimo and Makalaure is Tyelkormo. He has fair hair like your grandmother. He is a bit wild and quick to temper. He likes the woods and has a soft spot for animals. He has a large wolfhound from Lord Orome…"

"Is it as big as grandfather's hounds?"

"Nay, he was much larger. Huan is as big as a small horse. Your brother used to ride on his back when hunting. Carnistir is another one with a quick temper, although he is loyal to a fault. He used to help me about the house… See this blue patchwork cushion? Carnistir made it for his little brother Curufinwe…"

The elf-woman let her voice trail off as she traced the worn stitches. Carnistir had mended it more than once. Maitimo gave it to Huan for a chew-toy once to keep him from devouring their dinner. Tyelkormo used it as a target for his spear practice to rile his little brother Curufinwe. The twins tore it apart during a game of tug-of-war as infants. Each time Carnistir would fly into a rage. When his temper cooled, he would patiently set about his repairs with needle and thread.

"Amme?" her daughter asked as her tiny fingers traced the designs alongside her mother's. Tears were falling on the faded cloth.

"Go to bed. It is late…"

The little girl gave her mother a peck on the cheek before hastening off to her own little cot. The flagstones of the hallway were punishing on bare feet. The fire had all but gone out in the hearth. There was not enough wood to keep it going.

The elfling crawled under the large kitchen table where the hounds were huddled together for warmth. Hounds were barred from the forge where the fire still burned. The apprentices still minded the forge in their mentor's absence. Yawning, the child snuggled up against the mass of coarse fur and wet noses. The dogs sniffed in surprise at the newcomer but soon accepted her among them.


"Who is Curufinwe? The others will not tell…" the elfling asked as she looked up from the cushion she had been learning to sew on. She was older now, old enough to help about the house and sweep up at the workshop, but still not old enough to be told. Grandfather and the others had not yet returned. Her grandmother dropped the plate she had been washing.

"Here, take this to your mother and make sure she finishes it…" A cup of scalding tea was thrust into her small hands. She carefully made her way into the hall. Elf-hearing was sharp, more so the hearing of a curious child.

"Do you suppose she asks about her atar? How could she know?" the old nis who worked in the kitchens whispered.

"Those gossipy neri in the workshop no doubt. Perhaps they meant her brother … the one who takes after his father," her aunt snorted in disdain.

Her amil was awake. The tea was too hot to be drunk quickly. The elfling sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet dangling above the cold floor, watching her take sip after dainty sip.

"Is Curufinwe my brother?" she asked innocently.

"Aye, he is your fifth brother. You look much like him at your age…" her mother cupped a baby cheek.

"Is he the one they say worked at the forge?"

"Aye, he has the most talent as a smith and craftsman among his brothers. Only Makalaure's gift of song matches his talent as an artisan. You should see the fine pieces he turned out from his workshop, like that lamp…" the nis sipped at her tea.

"Are those all of my brothers?"

"Nay, there are two others… The Ambarussa… they are twins, with the same red hair and identical faces… Like their older brother Tyelkormo, they liked hunting in the wilds. Full of mischief they are…They were too young, far too young to have followed him in taking that Oath…"

"Him, amme? You mean atar? What is an Oath?"

The elf-woman did not speak. Tears glistened in her eyes.

"Tell me, please… Amme…" her daughter pleaded.

"Look out the window…" the mother urged. A pale vessel was rising from the west, bathing the land in silvery light.

"That is the light of Telperion, my child. We never thought we would see it again," Nerdenal put down her tea and watched her youngest child marvel at the new source of light in the sky. The few children who had been born after the Darkening only knew starlight in the sky above, until now.

"Who is Telperion?"

"It's a Tree, one of two which once graced this fair land… Let me tell you about Telperion and Laurelin…" Of course none of her kin had spoken to the child yet of the Light they had lost. She would tell her child about the Trees of Light, but leave the tale unfinished.

"What happened to the trees, Amme? Why did my brothers leave?"

"Sorry, little one, I am tired and must rest… another time perhaps…"

She will not speak of Feanaro or his Oath yet. Not to one so young.

She had almost lost this little one in her grief and sorrow. She had tried to bury her hurt and sorrow through her work at the forge. She had not known the new life within her existed until her father realised her apron was too snug on her frame. Few elflings were born after the Darkening. The grief and horror at losing the Light of the Trees affected all mothers-to-be and many miscarried. More elflings came too soon or too weak to survive. Her daughter was dearly bought. She had poured all the strength she could into her unborn child to ensure her survival.

She would leave for Lorien soon to heal. Her parents and siblings would care for her little one in her absence. It is almost a shame if her daughter were to lose her mother, having never known her father and most likely never will.

Notes:

This is AU. Some events might diverge from canon.