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Tirion, First Age 505...
'Atto if you had only seen her! You would have jumped out of your skin! Her eyes! How often does one see an elf with eyes like our side of the family? And the hair! It was not pure Telerin silver, not Sindar blonde, not Vanyar gold. It was a mix of the palest shade of blonde and a unique silver that only Míriel possessed, which Tyelko in turn inherited!'
'There are only two possible explanations; I have either completely lost the plot and imagined her resemblance... or I encountered Tyelko's daughter, my granddaughter, who for reasons unknown to me was kept a secret and left in Aman.'
Nerdanel sighed into her mug of tea, somehow managing to appear full of certainty and self doubt at the same time.
Mahtan honestly did not know what to think. Was it possible for Tyelko to have had a child in his youth?...Certainly. He had once been the biggest heartthrob in both the Wilds and Tirion, hunted by the ladies and the huntresses alike in his adolescence. Also, his lack of care for rules and responsibilities and impulsive nature increased his chance of unexpectedly becoming a father tenfold.
But only four weeks ago, Nerdanel had come close to fading. Mahtan knew from his own experience that a little 'hopeful hallucination' as he called it, or fooling oneself into believing their fantasies are true, could make it that little bit easier to cope. As long as one did not get carried away with their own mind tricks.
With this in mind, Mahtan concluded it best not to raise Nerdanel's hopes. She had recovered well, but he did not want her suddenly seeing lost relatives everywhere she went. If Tyelko did have a daughter in Aman, the truth would eventually uncover itself in the upcoming weeks of the Aráto Games,
'Hmm.' The master smith stroked his beard. 'It is a tricky one Istarnië. Though I find it hard to believe Tyelko would keep something as important as a child from us. You know how open he was. And he knew we all accepted his choices as a follower of Oromë, we respected his alternative views and values. He knew we would all have accepted her and doted upon her no matter what her heritage. I doubt he would have cared much about Finwë's opinion, he never did.'
Doubt crossed Nerdanel's face 'Perhaps you are right...'. Her expression then turned to one of slight epiphany. 'Though perhaps... perhaps he had to hide his daughter because of the mother's family...?
'He was a prince. I do not know a family in Tirion who would be against a union with someone they knew to be the highest of class, honourable, despite his wildness and champion of the Aráto Games. I doubt he would have seen the family of a nís so great an obstacle to prevent us from even knowing the child existed. He would have used his position of power if he had to, I am certain.'
'As for the hunters, they adored Tyelko. He was their representative to the outside world, he was a prince who chose their way of life rather than the respectable way of the warriors. He did not look down on them, if anything he looked up to them, admired them. Whats more the hunters simply do not do rules, they would not care if a child was born out of tradional Noldo wedlock.'
'We would not have forced him to marry the nís if he did not wish. Valar, even if we wanted to he would not do it if it is not what he desired. So why keep this daughter hidden? Why? It does not make sense!
'Maybe he did not want her to have to face the responsibilities, fame and duties that come with being a princess?' Nerdanel mused.
'It is Tyelko. He would have made sure she was free to do as she wished. Being a prince never hindered him.' The more Mahtan thought of it, the more unlikely it seemed.
He was beginning to convince himself it was not possible for this mystery child to be on their shores. Nerdanel was not so easily swayed.
'What if...' His daughter appeared to be thinking deeply, he could almost see her mind filing through memories, events, things she had witnessed. 'What if the union was forbidden... if the mother's family had just as much power as us...almost. What if there was no way Tyelko could introduce us to his daughter without risking the mother's family from finding out the truth, without perhaps risking his custody, and that of the mothers...'
'What do you mean Istarnië?!' Mahtan began to believe Nerdanel had not quite recovered as much as he had hoped. 'The only way Tyelko would lose custody of his child was if the Noldor counsel, which Fëanáro belonged to voted unanimously along with the King for it to be so! Such a thing was unheard of before the darkening!'
'Exactly..I do not know how Fëanáro would have reacted if he found out. Finwë most definitely would not have approved, along with Nolofinwë. Fëanáro...would he have sided with his Atar?...Him and Nolofinwë were always in competition...one always eager to outshine the other in Finwë's eyes...would he have given up his grandchild for that approval?... In those later years it was not impossible...'
Nerdanel seemed to be piecing a puzzle in her head, but making absolutely zero sense. 'We were so blind... if any of us had simply opened our eyes, it was right under our noses, all this time...'
'Nerdanel, if Fëanáro found out what? What does Tyelko's child have to do with the quarrell of Fëanáro and Nolofinwë? What was so obvious that we all simply did not see?' Mahtan could not help but feel panaic rise in his chest. Was Nerdanel going mad...? Why was she mumbling all of this all of a sudden?
Upon hearing his voice she stopped, her eyes fixed on the floor. Mouth opening and then closing...almost afraid, nervous, unsure whether or not to spill her monologues to him.
After a long pause of hesitation, she began..'I...I do not know how to say this...but Tyelko, I noticed in the later years that he only had eyes for one...It sounds absurd, ridiculous, but the evidence is there Atar, one cannot deny it.'
Spit it out Istarnië...After all I have lived through and the horrors of recent years...I doubt anything can shock me anymore...
Nerdanel took a deep breath. 'What if the mother of the child was...'
Knock, knock, knock, Knock, knock, KNOCK KNOCK!
A series of loud, playful knocks sounded on the door, the two to jumped.
Nerdanel rolled her eyes. 'The sign outside states very clearly I am booked out on commissions for statues until after the Games.I bet this is someone yet again coming to my door to tell me how much they hate my husband, my sons and me for something I had no part in.'
'WHAT?!' Mahtan could not help but let a shout out in anger at the fact that someone could possibly think of disturbing his daughter, who had suffered much more than the average citizen in the darkening. 'Why do they blame you, the fact that you are here proves you are innocent!'
His daughter shook her head sadly. 'Just ignore them they will eventually go away.'
Mahtan had no intention of simply 'leaving be' any antagoniser of his little girl.
'I WILL DO NO SUCH THING! HOW DARE THEY! I WILL TEACH THEM MANNERS!'
Mahtan stormed down the hall, intending to release his anger and fury on anyone who dared such hurtful deeds towards his daughter. Nerdanel had nearly died! The last thing she needed was this!
'Atar wait! You do not know... It may just be a client!...WAIT!' Nerdanel chased her Atar down the hall to the door, cursing the fact that all the men and boys she had ever truly known were impulsive and fiery tempered.
Mahtan had opened the door before she had caught up however. She was about to make him restrain, perhaps break up a fight, but, for some reason her Atar had frozen in place at the door.
That is not like him at all!...what has him so spooked?
She peeped over his shoulder and saw exactly who had caused such a severe reaction.
She stood in the doorway. Her poise and demeanour was strong, tall, proud, making her appear taller than what she was. Leathers revealing her muscled and toned arms, legs and abdomen. Her bright, green eyes gleamed with excitement and wonder, as she gazed at various pieces of Nerdanel's strewn about the yard. Her hair was a bush of those unique-coloured curls, falling over her shoulders and down her back, spilling over her quiver and spear, hiding any tell-tale tattoo which may have been present. A smirk was planted on her face.
Nerdanel returned the smirk, her Atar had thought her mad, but the fact that he was standing dumbstruck in front of this huntress was all the proof she needed that her mind was as wise as it ever was.
The huntress broke the silence.
'Hullo!' she beamed cheerfully, unsheathing a dagger that was all too familiar, but brutally bent.'I find myself in need of a smith, and I am told this place is the best.'
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Vayelya, after a busy morning selling her flutes at the marketplace, finally sat for a moments rest, back in the comfort of her workshop. She made herself a strong cup of her favourite herbal tea (the very tea that had been drugged many years ago) and hoped it would cure the hangover she had from the celebration the night before.
I must be getting old...I used to stay out dancing and drinking far later. My osellë and I giggling and flirting and sneaking into both the most lavish and most rowdy parties. Ai those were the days!
Her thoughts, for the hundredth time that day it seemed, returned to the tall, handsome, silver eyed musician/hunter she had encountered on the streets. Her nephew.
She pondered over and over in her head what to do now that she had all but confirmed the rumour was true. Should she tell him? How exactly does one tell someone such a thing. 'I am your aunt, I did not know until you were an adult. Your father does not know you exist. Your mother barely escaped with her life and yours after your grandfather threatened her.' It sounded like a theatrical production. A very bad one.
She came to the conclusion that if she were to reveal the truth to him, she would wait until after the Games. She knew the competition probably meant a great deal to him and she did not want to distract him with such big news mere days before the first trial. He had waited over seven hundred years, he could wait another few weeks.
This gave her a false sense of security. She had another few weeks of ignorant bliss before she revealed the truth to her nephew...I do not even know his name...She dreaded revealing such news to him. She dreaded rejection. She had gone through so many hurts since the darkening and had just got to a stage where she was happy again.
She knew it was selfish, but she did not want him to upset her by not being able to accept her as his aunt.
Because she had accepted him as her nephew the moment she laid eyes on him.
However, she hoped with all of her heart that he would allow her to know him. How she missed having family. She did not need a large family, just one person would be enough. One person was enough when she was a little girl. She had friends now true, but none as close as an osellë or a brother. There was still times she felt lonely. Especially in times of celebration as these.
So she went on fearing and longing for the day she would finally get to meet her brother's long-lost son.
Little did she know it would be today.
She lifted her head as the chimes on the door sounded and a customer stepped, slightly limped in.
She froze. Silver eyes met identical silver eyes. She yet again found herself staring at a replica of her brother.
He was handsome, she had to admit. His skintone brought out the rare colour of his eyes, making them stand out even more. His raven hair fell straight down his back, tied at the sides with two simple braids. He had barely anything covering him, just a pair of leather breeches and the strap of his quiver running across his bare chest. He was as muscular as her hanno had been in his prime as a warrior, but perhaps more rugged, he had a wildness to appearance she associated to both the hunters and her osellë.
The ner who had entered, seemingly oblivious to her shock bowed his head slightly and spoke 'Are you Vayelya? I am told you make the best flutes. I find myself in need of a new one, before tonight actually. I may have had a...slight mishap during the festivities last night.' He held up what she made out to be a wooden stick?...no.. a flute! In two halves.
Luckily the ner seemed to take her stunned expression as a reaction to the broken flute, not to him. He smiled sheepishly. 'The liquor in Tirion is very strong...'
Immediately put at ease by his humour...so much like hanno's... she began to laugh. She was joined by her client, her nephew. His voice was silver, and again it was too much like her brother's for comfort.
'I know exactly what you mean' she finally answered. 'I presume like myself you have suffered a pounding headache all morning?' He nodded.
She continued 'It will take me a while to draw up the measurements and then craft a flute to suit you. I will fetch you some of my miracle tea for while you are waiting. It works wonders on throbbing hangovers..and on bruised knees which have been assaulted by flutes...'
It was now her nephew's turn to appear shocked. His mouth opened slightly and he exclaimed in disbelief 'How did you...?'
'I once knew a ner who did the exact same thing one rainy night in Tirion.' She began, fondly remembering the story that she had never let her dear brother forget. 'Except his flute was silver, not wood and instead of the flute it was his leg that was broken in half! He could not dance for over a year! It nearly drove him insane, not to mention... his.. partner.'
SHIT! thought Vayelya. That was too much information. I do not know how much he knows. For all I know his mother may have told him that story before! My mouth always ran faster than my thoughts!
She shook her head, forcing herself to appear as if she had not made a near fatal error. Her nephew was not fooled. He was as sharp as his mother it seemed.
'You knew a ner from Tirion who played the flute and danced? Do you know his name? Or the name of his dance partner?'
He seemed suddenly desperate and Vayelya realised how young he truly was. How she wished to spill all of the truth there and then, give him a massive hug, tell him stories of his Atar and Ammë and never let him out of her sight. She barely just restrained herself.
She composed herself enough to deliver a fairly convincing 'It was many years ago, my memory has blurred.'
She left him and strode to her kitchen, to prepare the hot drink.
She did not see him raise an eyebrow and give a suspicious, skeptic look to her back.
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It took a discreet cough and nudge from Nerdanel to wake Mahtan from his stupefied state. His eyes widened, and after another brief pause and a shake of his head he brought himself to speak.
'I am sorry young lady, I am only here on a visit. My forge is a weeks ride from here. You will not have your dagger back in time to compete in the Games.'
Nerdanel wanted to smack Mahtan. He was turning her possible granddaughter away? Why do neri have the inability to think before they act!? Fëanáro's forge was just outside the house for Aulë's sake!
But before she had the chance to tell her Atar to feel free to use the abandoned forge her husband and fifth son used to practically live in, and perhaps ask the nís a few casual yet revealing questions, the huntress herself spoke fast, almost desperately.
'Vána said you would say that. And she said that if you did say it, that I should tell you it is only a dagger that is merely bent, and fixing it should be simple to the best smith in Aman. She said it is simply a matter of lineage.'
The last word had Mahtan yet again frozen in place. Nerdanel had to admit she did not blame him this time. Vána had sent this girl here? Why here? Fëanáro's forge had not been used in years. There were plenty of capable smiths in the city to choose from. And more importantly gave her a message which had vividly hinted Nerdanel's suspicions were true.
Nerdanel now fully believed this was Tyelko's daughter. She could see her Atar begin to sway in his judgement also.
'Atar, feel free to use the old forge. I doubt my husband would mind, especially since this is but a small job related to the Games.' Nerdanel gave Mahtan a look, knowing he heard her hint perfectly. It seemed, by the oblivious expression on her face, that the nís had not picked up on any of the puns about herself.
Mahtan nodded and, still too shocked to speak, turned to make his way to the forge.
'Atar' Nerdanel called, 'the dagger?' Mahtan had forgotten the piece he was to mend in his shock.
'Mmm..yes...' was all he managed to mumble as he turned again. The huntress handed him the dagger.
'You may as well check over her other weapons too Atar. We don't want any more accidents before the first trial now do we?'
'That would be brilliant if you could make sure there are no hidden weak spots.' The girl answered. 'Please be careful with my bow! It belonged to my Ammë.'
Nerdanel recognised the bow...
The young nís handed Mahtan her bow, quiver, spear and a set of hidden throwing knives. She carried a great amount in her scant garments.
Mahtan- still speechless made his way to the forge, weapons in tow.
Nerdanel then smiled warmly at the huntress who seemed at a loss over what to say or do. She had not picked up on any of the puns about herself.
'I know you! she exclaimed suddenly. Nerdanel's chest soared with slight panaic for a second. The nís continued 'You were at the parade.'
'Y-Yes' Nerdanel breathed, relieved. 'That was very quick thinking on your part, you saved that rascals life.'
'We get alot of experience of quick thinking on hunts.' The nís shrugged, as if it was no big deal.
Was that a little of the unmistakable Tyelkormo arrogance I just saw? The act of dismissing ones great deeds as though it were as simple as walking in the woods?
'Well moina, the forge has not been used in years and I am afraid it will take a few hours to kick-start the furnaces. Would you care to come in for tea?'
The huntress looked unsure, in thought, as if she felt there was some protocol response she could not remember.
Finally she gave up, smiled and simply nodded. 'I would love to Lady Anairë'.
It took Nerdanel a moment to register what she had been mistakenly labelled. She laughed, remembering that to one raised in the wilds, the royal family was a subject of study in itself, one this nís had failed. Ironic, since she herself was unknowingly royal .
The nís smiled, as if she knew she had made an error but didn't know what else to call her.
'I am as far as one can get from Lady Anairë dear. I am Nerdanel. A humble sculptress who happens to be the wife of Fëanáro.'
The eyes of the huntress widened. 'That means...'
Nerdanel cringed. She braced herself to hear another account of some deed of her husband, the rebellion, the flight, the ships, perhaps the ice.
'That means...' The huntress began again 'you are the Ammë of Tyelkormo!
Nerdanel was pleasantly surprised that was the first thing this nís thought of when she heard the name 'Fëanáro'
'He is a legend among our people. Though I never met him.'
Nerdanel felt her heart sink. How had this girl never met Tyelkormo? He was constantly in those woods! Was this young nís born after the darkening?
She tried to convince herself there was still hope. Perhaps the nís could not remember. Perhaps, sadly, Tyelko was not around much for his daughter?
Or perhaps this was not her grandchild after all.
'Yes. I am. ' She smiled sadly. The huntresses eyes gazed on her in sympathy.
'I know how you feel. My parents left me too. I think my Atar followed the House of Fëanáro. He even gave me a tattoo to match his, though my Ammë was not very pleased. They had a big fight that day. I think she followed Nolofinwë.'
Nerdanel tried to stop her heart from soaring again at the mention of a matching tattoo and the very accurate descriptions of Tyelko and...Írissë who she believed to be the mother.
Do not get your hopes up Nerdanel! That is but a mere theory and it is commonplace for hunters to give their children matching tattoos.
Nerdanel could not help but ask. 'What tattoo did he give you?' Does it match the star in my vision? Is it behind your ear?
The eight pointed star. Just behind my ear.' It was if she answered Nerdanel's thought. She brushed her hair away with her hand, exposing her neck, exposing the tattoo Nerdanel had seen before.
'He must have been very loyal to my house if he inked it on his daughter's skin. Did he know Tyelkormo?'
'I think so. But whenever I would ask he would laugh and then proceed to tell me exaggerated tales of a ner with Vala like strength, the most handsome in the world, the most loved with the ladies, able to defeat Tulkas in swordplay and Oromë in hunting, and at that point my Ammë would punch him and tell him to stop.'
The two níssi laughed, but only one knew the true humour of the story.
Nerdanel"s faith was restored. Only Tyelko would tell a story of, well,Tyelko in such a cocky manner. Only Írissë would have the nerve to punch him and get away with it in order for him to shut up and stop boasting to the poor oblivious child.
'Let us go inside' Nerdanel spoke once the giggles ended. 'I believe we both have many amusing stories related to my son.'
'I believe we do' was the reply. As the two made their way through the hall the huntress spoke.
'My name is Siofra Aranya.'
Shining Huntress and Free... why am I not surprised? Nerdanel pondered.
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Vayelya returned with the tea and some sweet biscuits she had baked and was thanked for her hospitality by her nephew. Her nephew. It seemed so strange to say in her mind.
'Now let me see what remains of your old flute.' He handed her the halves. She recognised the work of her osellë. She had engraved her initials on the back.
Vayelya smothered a giggle as she wondered how angry her osellë would be at her son for breaking her flute in such a manner. Her brother had been in BIG trouble when his Melda found out that because of his theatrics under the influence, she could not dance with him for a very long time.
'This is a fine flute'. She stated, writing down the measurements and sketching a new replica.
'It was made by my mother. She did not play, but she knew how to carve. She used to carve flutes for my Atar. His main flute was silver. But from time to time he enjoyed the wood, the forest like melody it produced.' Vayelya felt his unwavering gaze on her.
Is he testing me? It seems that, like his mother he does not miss a trick. I cannot make any more mistakes. He is watching like a hawk.
It took all of her composure to not react to the simple anecdote. Or perhaps add that it was his Ammë that insisted his Atar play on wood. Or that his mother did know how to play, just that she rarely did because it was impossible to best his Atar at the instrument.
Reluctantly she kept her stories to herself and simply stated 'They seem like talented craftspeople and musicians.'
'So I have been told. Though sometimes I wonder was it all fairy-tales made up by my Ammë. See, I never met my Atar, so sometimes I wonder was he a decent ner at all. He never visited, he never even named me.' He said in slight bitterness, though it seemed exaggerated and...acted.
Vayelya knew exactly what he was up to. He is trying to provoke a reaction to get me to spill more than what I have revealed. I gave myself away by the flute story. He thinks I know more than what I am letting on...he is right...
I cannot reveal who I am yet. It does not feel right..it is too much, too soon. He needs to focus on the Games!
Say what you will boy, I will not falter. You will understand and thank me later.
Vayelya feigned sympathy, the weak type a stranger has for one they do not know and at the end if the day do not care about. 'I know all about disappointing fathers. But what you will learn is that one does not necessarily need a particular 'father' or 'mother' figure in their life. It is nice, yes, but at the end of the day we choose the people we love,truly. I do not think there needs to be a blood relation for a family to exist.'
He seemed slightly taken aback. 'You mean an otorno or osellë?'
'Well it does not even have to be such a strong bond but, yes, that is a perfect example.' Vayelya shrugged, ignoring the panaic at the mention of osellë. I hope his Ammë did not tell him any tales of me...
'My Ammë had an osellë. As do I.' Her nephew began. Vayelya felt her stomach churn at the mention of herself. Keep going Vayelya, you cannot falter now!
'Exactly. I bet both you and your Ammë have as deep a bond with your osellës as though they were your sisters by blood.' Vayelya countered.
Please drop the subject of family nephew!
'With my osellë, yes, our bond is as strong as blood relation, perhaps stronger. My Ammë... I do not know...she left after the darkening. I believe she went across the sea.
Vayelya yet again found herself trying to look sympathetic, but not too sympathetic that she gave away her connection. 'I am sorry, I did not know...' She hoped that would be enough.
'Yes you did.'
He said it so calmly, no anger or temper or ill will in his tone at all. As if he was stating a simple, obvious fact. Vayelya was finally thrown off course.
'Excuse me..? I do not know what you mean..' she tried to sound as confused as possible.
Her nephew spoke. 'The necklace you are wearing. There were only two ever made. They were heirlooms to a small, but noble house. The Lord of the House had two children, the identical necklaces were passed on to them, his son and his daughter.'
How did I forget about the damned necklace! Vayelya you fool! I have given myself away!
Her nephew continued. 'The son, married an Avarin dancer and gave his necklace to her. A symbol that she belonged to the family if you like. His wife also happened to be an osellë to his sister, who held the other necklace. '
'They had been osellës long before the couple had met. I have heard countless tales of the mischief they got up to. One included attempting to sneak into a royal gathering disguised as princess Írissë and her 'friend from the woods'. The only reason it failed was because Írissë's eyes were blue, not a striking silver.'
He stared into her eyes for what felt like an eternity, as if confirming her eyes were as silver as his. She held her gaze, unbreakable.
She mustered the courage to speak, she knew she must do everything to convince him she was not the nís from his tales. 'I do think you are mistaken with another pendant. I swear it was not me you spoke of in those tales.'
She wanted the earth to swallow her as her nephew replied 'No, I am sure it is the right necklace.'
He proceeded to raise his hand over his back, reaching into his quiver, a small pocket stitched onto the side.
He produced the twin of her necklace and placed it on the table.
'My Ammë then passed the necklace to me, as a link to my house...our house...'
He looked deep into her eyes. She knew at that moment he could read her like a book. Nothing she said would change what he knew to be the truth. He confirmed it as he opened his mouth and uttered one simple word.
'...Aunt.'
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To say Mahtan was in disbelief was an understatement. How?...How had he not seen it? It seemed so obvious now!
He had fueled the furnaces of the old forge...the forge where those accursed gems came to be. It was full of dust and melancholy, and a certain sad feeling one gets when visiting somewhere abandoned. A ghost of what it once was, the workshop seemed so empty, quiet. It was not right! A forge needed noise!
Now he faced the weapons which belonged to his great-granddaughter. So Nerdanel was right after all. It would be a lie to say he was not ecstatic, though very shocked at the news.
When he laid eyes on the huntress, for a minute he mistook her for Tyelko, before he realised this was in fact a nís, and slightly shorter. Nevertheless he was caught off guard. He had wholeheartedly believed, only seconds ago, that Tyelko's child was in Endor.
Of course he was stunned when he first saw her. She was so much like her Atar! How could her appearance, just as they were talking about her, not leave him frozen in place?
Nerdanel, bless her, jumped in and saved his backside.
He was just regaining his ability to speak when he noticed the bow she was carrying.
Mahtan had crafted that bow.
He had crafted it for Írissë.
Then the young huntress said something that shocked him to the very core, more than anything before.
'Please be careful with my bow! It belonged to my Ammë.'
Her Ammë? But that is impossible! Mahtan thought to himself. That bow belonged to...Írissë'
Mahtan remembered what his daughter was attempting to break to him earlier.
'What if the union was forbidden...? if the mother's family had just as much power as us...almost? What if there was no way Tyelko could introduce us to his daughter without risking the mother's family from finding out the truth, without perhaps risking his custody, and that of the mothers...'
The answer clicked in Mahtans mind...
The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks...
He was almost prepared for the possibility of meeting Tyelko's child.
But Tyelko and Írissë's daughter?
He was simply dumbstruck.
My grandchildren will never cease to leave me stupefied, even when they are across the damn sea!
The pieces of the puzzle, memories of the pair drifted in and out of Mahtan's mind. Nerdanel was right! They were blind!
One such memory was the day he was 'commissioned' (though his client paid nothing) to craft the silver bow which now lay before him...
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Mahtan's forge, Y.T...
Mahtan briefly paused from his work to watch the mingling of the lights, marking the beginning of a new day.
The last few months had been quiet. Not that there was any lack of orders or work to be done. It had been quiet because his daughter, law-son and their seven sons (two of which were newly born) had moved from their home, a few leagues away to the city.
Mahtan honestly did not want them to leave, but neither did they. However such was the price of being part of the Noldo royalty. The Crown Prince had been living in ignorant bliss for too long and his duties called in the city.
And so, they decided they would leave a mere few weeks after the Ambarussa were born. Mahtan smiled at the thought of those adorable twins. They would have grown much in the short time he had not seen them. How he missed them all.
He had no sooner returned to his commission piece, when a familiar bark sounded outside, with the unmistakable thunder of a steed.
Walking outside, he was almost knocked over as Huan pounced on Mahtan as if it was a thousand years since he had last seen him.
'Easy boy!' Mahtan scratched his ears fondly. 'I missed you too Huan.'
'This must be how my brothers feel when they say I care more for Huan than them!' A playful jest sounded to his right. He turned to see no other than Tyelkormo leap from his steed, coming from the woods in his hunting leathers, smirk on his face.
'Huan beat you to it. I did not see you racing as fast as he to greet me!'
'Huan's idea of a greeting is to make you fall on your arse! If I greeted you that way you would be floored in seconds old ner.
Mahtan raised an eyebrow. ' Careful, young princeling, I would not be long wiping that smirk from your pretty little face.
The two stared at each other, serious expressions on their faces, before bursting into hearty laughter. Mahtan clapped Tyelko on the shoulder and pulled him into an embrace.
'It is good to see you again, grandfather.'
'You too Tyelko. But tell me, was the city that bad that you have left it already? I thought you planned to stay at least a year before going near the woods?'
Tyelkormo pulled a face of pure disgust. 'The city is crazy Haru! Everywhere I go people watch and bow and go out of their way to approach me! And do not get me started on the palace! Our aunts and uncles, sorry half aunts and uncles look at us as if we are stray dogs or something. They will not let us run, shout, jump...I even got told I was not allowed to go shirtless! It is madness!
Mahtan shook his head, holding back a laugh at the thought of the havoc Tyelko and his brothers must be wrecking in the opulent palace.
'Well it cannot be all bad can it? What about your cousins? There are many your age.'
Tyelko's face somehow became even more disgusted. He rolled his eyes.'They are the most annoying, stuck up, idio...
'Tyelko!' Mahtan tried not to laugh.
'Grandfather you would agree if you met them! Nolofinwë's sons are so full of themselves! They act as if they are superior to everyone!'
'I could say the same for you Tyelko.' Mahtan teased. He received a not too impressed look.
'The way I act is different. My cousins act like well...princes! In a bad way! They speak so fancy and live by ridiculous unspoken rules.
'It is called manners and etiquette. And can you really judge them for their accents?
'Yes I can because they are annoying! And speaking of etiquette. Neylo, Kano, Moryo, Curvo and I are forced to sit through lessons on the damn thing! And it was just because the first day we ate with our hands at dinner! It was chicken! Why wouldn't we eat it with our hands?! '
'I am sure the five of you have managed to evade those lessons more times than you have attended them.' Mahtan was almost shaking in an effort to conceal his laughter at the dinner scene Tyelko had described.
'That is beside the point.'
'Well enough talk of such 'frustrating' matters. How are the babies?'
Tyelko smiled fondly, melancholy forgotten. 'Adorable, but two little shits at the same time! They are crawling now and will do anything to escape their cot. One night swear I saw Telvo giving Pityo a boost lift out! They always find ways to grab everyone's attention, and one cannot deny the mischief in those eyes.'
'Ai bless! Mahtan smiled. 'I must visit soon. I cannot believe they are already crawling. Where has the time gone?!'
'They are far from innocent! Tyelko warned. 'If you do visit, do not let the fact that they are only five months old fool you! All of us have fallen prey to their antics which include one of them crying to distract you while the other escapes, the two of them screaming at the top of their lungs, only to fall dead silent the moment someone reaches their cot and switching bibs so we will confuse one for the other!.'
'Curvo believes we have already mixed them up and that Telvo is actually Pityo and Pityo is Telvo, but that started an intense debate that went on for days and is still not finished."
'They do not cry much, but perhaps that is because of Kano using them as an excuse to sing lullabies all damn night! They make up for their crying with laughter. Every adult, even Finwë admits they have never seen a baby laugh as much as those two.
'They are also inseparable. They must be within arms reach of each other at all times, or else they roar so loud all of Tirion can hear them.'
'They sound wonderful. I cannot wait to see them.' Mahtan made a promise to himself to leave his work be for at least one week to visit the Ambarussa and the rest of his relations in the City, as soon as he finished up with his current projects.
'Actually Haru, perhaps you could visit next week?' Tyelko sounded cheerily.
'Next week? That is very short notice Indyo. I have work to do. I'd say it will be at least a month before I can get away from here!'
'You sound like Curvo! Please Haru! I have a favour to ask of you!' Tyelko pleaded.
'A favour?' Mahtan raised an eyebrow. 'What may that be?
'Well next week my cousin Írissë, Nolofinwë's daughter, comes of age. That is why I return home. I was hoping you would be able to craft her a bow? Silver would be nice.'
'I thought you hated your cousins?'
'Írissë is different.'
'Ai Indyo, you know it takes a week to travel to the city! I would have to craft the bow today and then leave immediately. Abandon all of my current projects! How long have you known she will be coming of age?' Mahtan felt a little stressed to say the least.
'About two months?'
'Two months! Tyelko did it not even occur to you to tell me any time before the last minute?'
'I...I did not exactly take travel into account!'
'What about your Atar?'
'Although he likes Írissë, he refuses to craft anything for a child of Nolofinwë. And he is busy working on some shiny substance thing that has the light of the Trees in it.'
Won't craft for Nolofinwë's House...Why am I not surprised?
'Curvo could do it. He has already made many fine pieces.'
'Curvo refuses to even leave the forge while he is working on something. He is in the middle of a project for his precious apprenticeship and there is no way he would halt it for anyone!. He is worse than Atar I swear!
'No one can be worse at refusing to rest than your Atar. Tyelko, is this bow really necessary? I could craft you a simple jewellery piece in minutes and you could be on your way!.'
'Írissë hates jewellery. She would much prefer a bow I am sure! She can almost beat me at archery.'
'Almost?' Mahtan questioned, knowing full well what that word meant when it came out of Tyelko's mouth.
'Fine, she beat me at archery' he mumbled, slightly annoyed.
'What if when you got back to Tirion you commissioned a smith there to craft it. They would go out of their way to complete it on time for their Prince.'
'Well...about that...' Tyelko raked a hand through his hair 'I am a little...broke at the minute...'
A little broke? Oh Please!
'Tyelkormo how in the name of the Valar does a Prince find himself broke? Mahtan found it hard to believe him.
'Well we get paid for our 'duties', whatever they are, every three months. I.. may have made a bet with Moryo and lost.'
'You gambled all of it? Seriously Tyelko! You make more money in a few months than some people make in in five years! Why did you gamble it all away!
'Well in a way it was a competiton...from a certain point of view...' Tyelko said sheepishly.
'What does that mean?' Mahtan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
'Moryo and I..we decided to see how long we could go before one of us punched Angaráto, Arafinwë's son. I swear Moryo was about to lose, he was just on the edge of losing his cool! But then one morning I was in a bad mood Angaráto passed by me and... just the way he talked was so annoy...'
'For Eru's sake Tyelko! You do not make bets over punching someone. Especially your cousin!'
'Arafinwë's kids are worse than Nolofinwë's. They are so happy and friendly...but it is really annoying at the same time, do you know what I mean?'
'No Tyelko I dont. But I hope you have learned not to bet on something so ridiculous again, especially with your brother who can calculate probability in his head like the weather.'
'Yes Grandfather.' Tyelko muttered lowly. He could not have sounded more ungenuine if he tried.
Mahtan continued, shaking his head. 'Very well. I will craft the bow for the young Miss Írissë. But I will not be doing such a favour again. And you owe me Tyelko! I also expect my payment in three months time!'
'Ahhh' Tyelko began again. What now? Mahtan thought. 'I thought this could be more of a family discount thing? You know, in Tirion there is this unspoken rule that you do not charge fam..'
'That rule does not apply when your grandson is a Prince. Silver is expensive! Why will you not have the money in three months?'
'I...' Tyelko coughed indiscreetly. 'I may have bet my wages for the next two years...'
Mahtan felt the urge to knock Tyelko's head off the wall. 'Was one punch really worth all of that money?'
'Yes' Tyelko said without thinking, His expression changed 'I mean no it was wrong, I..'
'Go before I change my mind.' Mahtan warned. 'Meet me at the main Tirion Marketplace next week.'
'Thank you Haru!' Tyelko gave Mahtan a fierce hug before leaping back on his steed and galloping off, Huan on his heels.
The little shit! Mahtan mumbled to himself, too fondly to be serious.
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Kyelaeron was dying from nerves.
SHIT! If I have guessed wrong she may have me sent to Lord Irmo to get my head examined!
But...it all adds up... the necklace, the silver eyes and dark hair, the petite figure... she matches Ammë's description perfectly.
Then again Ammë did say she was a lady...this nís is a craftswoman.
Dark hair is common among the Noldor...
But the EYES! And the Necklace! And she makes flutes for Eru's sake!
Perhaps I should not have gone so far as to call her aunt...
A moment ago he was so certain this nís was his Aunt, the carefree, mischievous,and surprisingly fierce osellë his mother had told him stories. Now however, he was beginning to panaic, though he did not show it. The nís had simply been staring at him for at least a minute and... he did not know what in Arda was thinking.
He had no idea when Vána sent him here that he would run into a potential long lost relative. But then he had entered the workshop and noticed the stunned expression that betrayed Vayelya's emotions. He thought it to be the shock of seeing a hunter. But then he saw her eyes...silver eyes... and he remembered what his Ammë had told him years ago, as she held him close, saying farewell and pressing the pendant into his shaking palm.
'Do not weep for me Kyelaeron, how I hate to see such sorrow in your beautiful eyes. You have been blessed with the rarest eyes in all the land, onya. They are a link to who you are. They belonged to your Atar and your Aunt and were passed on to you. Unique features such as yours are a gift, though not for mere beauty or aesthetic value alone. Your silver eyes mean that a part of your Atar will always be with you...no matter how far apart the world sets you from each other...As will I'
Kyelaeron knew that of course it was possible for someone else not related to him to have silver eyes. But this nís had eyes the exact same as him, down to the tiny specks of sea blue.
Then Vayelya told him the story of a ner, who danced and played music... his Atar?...breaking his leg with a flute. He vaguely recalled his Ammë scolding him for trying to snap a branch on his knee, saying that his Atar had made that mistake many years ago, and that she would not be so forgiving should he repeat such an 'idiotic' action.
And then he saw the pendant which hung from a silver chain on her neck and he knew. This had to be the nís he had heard so much about. It simply had to!
This could not be a mere coincidence...could it?
So, Kyelaeron spilled truths about his childhood to this stranger that he had only ever told Aranya. He thought he should feel uncomfortable telling such personal details, but somehow it felt right. He trusted his instincts.
She did a good job hiding her reaction. She played the part of pitying stranger well. But he did not miss the slight twitch of her hand as he suggested his Atar may not have cared, or the slight tremble in her voice as she claimed her necklace was not the pendant he spoke of.
Now however, Kyelaeron's adrenaline had all but fled and he began to wonder had he merely seen and heard things he wanted to. He was losing confidence each passing second Vayelya continued to relentlessly stare at him.
He was about to open his mouth to apologise, to give in, mutter an excuse about the excitement and festivities of the Games messing with his head.
But Vayelya beat him to it.
'I...I am so sorry I lied.' She gasped suddenly, tears in her distinctive eyes. Kyelaeron was frozen in place. Now that he was actually hearing what he wanted to hear he was...scared. Who knew what the truth would reveal? He let Vayelya continue.
'I did not know I had a nephew until five years ago. I heard a rumour of your existence, the real reason your Atar never met you and... I was horrified.'
Kyelaeron felt his chest tighten...what did that mean?
'I thought of leaving for the woods to find you, but I was afraid. How does one introduce themselves someone they should have known from birth, who now has a life of their own?'
I am face to face with a blood relative...Kyelaeron could barely register the fact that someone from his House, his family, was right here in front of him. It was surreal.
'Then I heard the Games were recommencing. I knew I had to see you, prove the rumour true. And so I stood in the square and watched. I raked my eyes through each and every hunter until I found you and, my Eru, the resemblance to your Atar gave you away immediately.'
I look like my Atar? Well I suppose I never looked much like Ammë...
I still cannot believe this is my Aunt! This is the nís that once told Kanafinwë Makalaurë that his music was as depressing as Lady Nienna!
'I did not want to reveal the truth to you until after the Games. I did not want to distract you from your competition.'
'But it would be a lie to say that was the only reason. I was weak. I was so afraid that you would hate me, push me away, because I should have been there for you from the day you were born, but because of my ignorance to the world around I did not even know you were there for me to protect.'
Aunt why are you so distraught? You said yourself you did not know until only five years ago! It was not your fault! And I was happy in the woods anyway!
To simply know there is someone here on these shores means the world...
'I have been on my own since the flight. I...I miss having family, and I accepted you as my nephew the moment I laid eyes on you.I want you to know am here for you... but I know it is hard to forgive me...I should have known you were alive much sooner...and...I understand if you do not wish to speak to me ever again...I am sor...
Kyelaeron could not restrain himself any longer. He put an end to Vayelya's emotional rant and fears by promptly pulling her into a fierce embrace and twirling her in the air. The nís..my Auntie!... let out a whelp of surprise before he set her down.
Kyelaeron was lost for words. All the times I imagined meeting a family member and now that it has actually happened I am speechless! 'Aunt...you are my Aunt.' He grinned like a fool.
His heart melted at the way Vayelya's face lit up and mirrored his grin, as she realised he longed for family as much as she.
No words needed to be spoken. The pair simply embraced and laughed.
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Nerdanel led Siofra into the main living room. A cozy place with a hearty fire roaring and patchwork throws on various size and shape chairs. There was a very large bookshelf, with a massive variety of literature; politics, music, mathematics, embroidery, smithing, sculpting and even a few children's stories.
Her granddaughter seemed in awe at what Nerdanel would have thought a fairly simple but artistic home. She drank in every detail. She strolled around touching and examining certain ornaments, looking under tables and the curtains.
Nerdanel smoothered a laugh. This behaviour would have been branded as rude, perhaps nosy but Nerdanel knew this was Siofra's first time in a fairly 'normal' house. Whats more, she knew Siofra had been raised as far away from society as possible, it would take a little time for certain unspoken rules and protocols to kick in, if they ever did.
She let her be. 'I will prepare us some tea moina, feel free to read any of the books while you are waiting.'
'Are there any about hunting?' the young nís asked. Nerdanel stopped for a minute, scanning the bookshelf. There was books about nearly every other topic that any of her family had the slightest bit of interest in. Except hunting. Nerdanel knew why.
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A few leagues from Aulë's forge, Y.T...
'TURCAFINWË TYELKORMO! WILL YOU SIT STILL! The sooner you finish the book the sooner you can go outside and I can go back to my work!'
'Ammë reading is the most useless thing and a complete waste of time! In the woods I do not read to learn how to set traps, shoot an arrow, spring a bear...'
'Tyelko tell me you did not fight a bear! You are far too young! You only started your training a year ago!'
'It was no big deal Ammë. I had him taken down in seconds!'
'HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN SECONDS! Your impulsive attitude will be your demise! There is a line between bravery and stupidity!'
'HHmmph' It was all Nerdanel could do not to slap him as he rolled his eyes to the heavens, leaned back on his chair and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to even look at the page in front of him.
'Someday you will have children of your own and you will understand why I worry.'
'I will not have children, and if I do they will be out hunting bears, not stuck inside learning how to read!'
Nelyo and Kano were nowhere near as difficult as him at this age!
'Speaking of wasting time, you do realise I too would rather not be here?'
'Then let me go! I have read enough already.'
'Tyelko you struggled to read the first sentence! You are not even trying! Moryo can barely reach your hip and yet can read better than you!
'But can Moryo fight a bear? No.'
'BECAUSE HE IS A CHILD! AN INFANT CHILD IS MORE LITERATE THAN YOU! You are at the end of your childhood Tyelko, does it not concern you in the least that you are practically illiterate!?
'No because I don't need literacy to hunt.'
Nerdanel drew in a deep breath.
Thank Eru I did not ask Fëanáro to try to teach him. I would not like to see the outcome, especially if Tyelko had the nerve to antagonise his Atar the way he is antagonising me now.
Arguing and anger will not work on Tyelko, He is too stubborn, too 'unafraid'. I have to get to the bottom of this gently, as if I was talking to a stray dog!
'Look Tyelko,' she began softly. ' I know you are determined, strong minded and smart and yes, books are unnecessary when it comes to the path you have chosen. But you will soon be an adult, and we must not forget that you are a Prince, as much as you wish you were not.
'I know you are the most competitive out of the four of my sons. And I know that you do not like to be bested at anything, especially by someone less than half your age! So why onya? Why do you insist on not reading? I know it requires much patience and stillness, but so does hunting. If you tried for as little as half an hour each day you would improve so much!
Tyelko was silent, staring at the floor for a few moments. Nerdanel waited for him to reply.
'I wouldn't' He hoarsely whispered.
'What do you mean?' Nerdanel asked softly.
'I wouldn't improve, no matter how much I practised. You would not understand. You probably would not believe me'
'I can try onya, please tell me why you cannot progress.'
Tyelko seemed reluctant to divulge, but on seeing that Nerdanel would not take no for an answer, he replied.
'I look at the page and the letters are there. And then, when I try to make sense of them, it is as if they change shape in my head, they turn around, flip upside down, back to front and suddenly the words and letters I know are not there. They are unrecognisable. It takes ages to read and re-read even one word, until I understand its meaning.'
Nerdanel was shocked. She had not heard of such a condition before. She could not believe Tyelko had kept it a secret for all these years... All the times herself and Fëanáro had told him off for not paying enough attention to his studies! They thought it was simply Tyelko being Tyelko, wanting to go outside and run wild rather than sit and study. Little did they know it was not his fault.
'Onya, why did you not tell me this before? If Atar and I had known we would have helped you.'
'I do not need help..I...' Tyelko began a bit too hastily.
'To ask for help when you need it is not a weakness Tyelko, the sooner you realise that the better.'
'Hhmmph'.
Nerdanel wished he would stop with the 'hmmphs'- he was beginning to sound too much like Oromë
'I will speak to your Atar. He invented the alphabet we use after all, I am sure he will have some ideas on how to assist your learning. For now, go on, find Huan and run around, do what you wish, the two of us have been cooped up here long enough for today.'
Tyelko smiled -not a smirk- a genuine, heartfelt smile. Nerdanel found herself caught off guard as he suddenly ran into her and gave her a fierce hug.
Valar, he was getting tall, he soon would pass her out.
'Thanks Ammë.' He whispered. Nerdanel laughed. 'You silly lamb! You should have told me this years ago!'
As he flew out of the room. He skidded to a halt and turned, pleadingly. 'Do not tell Nelyo and Kano.'
'I promise I would not dream of it.' Nerdanel assured him.
She shook her head as she added yet another secret to the long list in her head of things her sons had ordered her never to tell their brothers.
My boys, your pride will be the death of you all!
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Tirion First Age 505...
'No I do not believe there are any hunting books. Tyelkormo had a more hands-on approach when it came to learning skills.' Nerdanel answered her grandchild, wondering where the years had gone since that day Tyelko had finally confessed he needed help learning how to read.
'I see', answered Siofra, strolling over to the shelf. Nerdanel saw her flip through a few pages of a politics book, before putting it aside and choosing another, which she seemed to prefer. The nís then stretched out on the long couch in the centre of the room. Feet up, not a notion of the many reasons why such a position would be unmannerly in a stranger's home. Nerdanel smiled.
'This chair is so comfortable! And this room! There is so much space to sit!' Siofra seemed so impressed by the little things. Wait till you see the palace child!
'It was once cramped and noisy.' Nerdanel said sadly as she left for the kitchen.
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'So Atar...he went across the ice with the Host of Nolofinwë?' Kyelaeron could not hide the disappointment in his voice.
Vayeyla nodded sadly. 'I pleaded with him not to but his mind was made up I am afraid.'
'And then he drugged you.' Her nephew smirked. He had found that story way too funny for Vayelya's liking. Not to worry. I will make up for it by telling more embarrassing stories of dear hanno.
'And then he drugged me' Vayelya sighed. She lifted her head up from her had finally finished the flute, after much pleasant distraction, a mixture of questions from her nephew and storytelling on her part.
She had avoided the topic of why her brother never knew his son however, successfully for the time being.
She gasped. A realisation hit her. 'My goodness! I never asked what was your name!'
Her nephew laughed. 'I forgot to mention it. How rude of me. Ammë named me Kyelaeron.
'Silver song of the sea... So poetic, typical of my osellë. It suits you perfectly!'
Neither spoke their thoughts. There was no father name.
Technically I am the closest and only relative to his father he has left. I could name him if I wished...If he wished..
No. It does not feel right. To name him would mean I had given up on my brother ever returning.I will not lose hope...
Vayelya stood, and handed Kyelaeron his newly crafted flute. The ner examined it as though it were a complicated masterpiece.
'It feels exactly like my old one. Thank you.'
He flashed another brilliant pearly smile.
'Do not be shy, I want to hear you play! Go on! If you can perform for Tirion you can perform for me.'
Vayelya was curious as to how talented this young ner really was. She was testing him. I wonder is he as good as hanno...
'Very well Auntie, if you insist.' He took a deep breath and began to play.
Vayelya felt her breath being swept away. Her chest tightened, full of nostalgia, sorrow and...hope.
She knew the melody all too well. The Water Song. A Song passed down through her House...only known by members of the House. A secret heirloom that could be shared by all, if you like.
His long fingers expertly moved swiftly as flowing streams over the openings. His breath never faltered as he played the sweet melody. He was as good as her hanno, and this ner was younger...much younger.
Her eyes were glistening a little more than usual once he finished. She applauded him.
'That was the first time someone has even come close to performing as skilled as your Atar, perhaps better.' She insisted
He lowered his gaze and smiled sheepishly. He was clearly not one to handle praise. 'Thank you'.
'How much do I owe you for the flute Auntie?' Vayelya was surprised he even suggested such a thing. There was no way she was going to charge him!
' I do not charge family. ' She simply stated.
He protested 'But..you crafted...'
'Please Kyelaeron, it is a gift. Now as much as I would like to keep you here and tell stories all night, I believe you have a show to get to..hmm?'
'Ai Eru I almost forgot!' He shook his head. 'I will bid you farewell then Vayelya. I am so glad to have met you, no matter how unexpected our encounter.' He hugged her again as they said goodbye.
'Our first meeting went better than I had dared to hope. Remember, if you need anything I am always here. You must visit again, perhaps after the Games when you are not so busy. I wish you the best of luck, my nephew. I will be supporting you all the way.' She embraced him again. Why not? He was short seven hundred years of hugs from her.
She cupped his cheek and smirked. 'Your Atar made it to the final the year he competed, with the warriors. He was bet by Tyelkormo and Írissë, you probably heard of them in your woods. I never let him live it down, so I suggest you win nephew, or else face my unyielding teasing for the rest of your days!'
He laughed yet again. Such a melodic laugh...'I will do my best Aunt! Atar competed? He made it to the final? Wait...I was born before the Games Tyelkormo won!
'Aye, you were.' Vayelya sighed sadly. 'But he did not know.'
'Why?' The desperate look in his eyes made Vayelya's heart sink.
One simple word as a question has such a complicated answer.
'I swear I will tell you. But after the Games. You have already learned so much new information today. You will be overwhelmed if I tell you now.'
'I promise you that your Atar would have been the kindest, fiercest, most loving father. If he had known you existed, he would have never stopped searching the woods until he found you. He would have loved you..so much.'
'But your Ammë had a good reason to flee and keep you a secret. A reason I will reveal another time, when we are prepared with a few bottles of mirúvorë, hangover tea and flutes.
'Very well Vayelya, as long as it is soon.' Kyelaeron could not hide the slight disappointment in his voice. His eyes widened in curiosity 'Why flutes?'
'Because the tale I have to tell you will anger both myself and you greatly. I do not know about you, but I find splitting flutes on my knee a wonderful way to release my rage!'
She sounded so serious. Kyelaeron honestly believed she was capable of such a feat. He knew from his Ammë's tales that one did not antagonise Vayelya without paying the price.'
Nevertheless he laughed. 'Goodbye Auntie Vayelya. Enjoy the festivities. Easy on the mirúvorë!'
'I could say the same to you Kyelaeron!' She shouted out the door as he walked away. He turned and smirked.
Vayelya returned to her work, a weight lifted from her chest. She subconsciously hummed the Water song as she crafted.
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Nerdanel returned with refreshments for her unexpected guest and found her engrossed in a book about embroidery, one of Carnistir's it seemed. The page she was studying had a large, detailed sketch of what Nerdanel believed to be a work of Míriel's. It depicted the hither shores, the forests, the wildlife and of course the elves being greeted by no other than Oromë, their saviour. Her Atar had told her the story a hundred times.
Setting down the tray, Nerdanel asked Siofra 'Do you like embroidery?'
'Embroidery?' She replied, puzzled, almost as if she was unsure what it was. 'That is a type of sewing isn't it? I can sew but I never really had much interest in the art other than for practical uses. No I cannot say I do like embroidery.' She continued reading...or looking at pictures...on the page of the book that had, clear as day 'EMBROIDERY' written on the cover.
Nerdanel chuckled to herself. She was not fooled. So Tyelkormo was telling the truth when he said his children would be hunting bears before reading!
'That book looks interesting.' Nerdanel began. 'What is it about?'
It is wrong of me to tease her so but it is also rather funny!
In fairness to the young nís, she did make a decent attempt of a guess. 'It is... a... history book. It is telling of Cuiviénen and the Great Journey.'
What a chancer, just like Tyelko!
'Is that right?' Nerdanel hid her smug grin with a teacup. Siofra put the book down and began to drink.
Nerdanel decided it was time to tell her granddaughter a story.
'My son, Tyelkormo struggled to read from a young age. After many years, we discovered it was because whenever he looked at a page with writing, the letters would jumble up in his mind. My husband created a system which made it easier for him to decipher words and eventually would have resulted in him being able to read as well as anyone.'
'When you say jumbled up do you mean they would change when he looked at the letters and words? So much that they were unrecognisable?' Siofra uttered very quickly.
'Exactly', Nerdanel nodded. 'Why do you ask.'
Her granddaughter did not think to hide the panaic that crossed her face. 'My... Otorno... He told me that is what happens when he tries to read.'
'Really? ' replied Nedanel.
'Yes but do not tell anyone. It is embarrassing for me... sorry, him'
'There are many forms of intelligence Siofra, not just the traditional sense. I bet your otorno would know what to do if attacked by a wild beast. The same could not be said for some of the brightest scholars in the city.'
You poor moina! Do not think your are not smart! There is no need to be embarrassed.
Siofra looked very intrigued. 'Did the system work. Was Tyelkormo then able to read? What exactly is the system?'
Nerdanel shook her head, slightly irritated at the memory that came to mind. 'He was never very patient and by the time we discovered he needed help he was already a follower of Oromë. Between going to and fro from the woods, attending court duties and looking after both Huan and his younger brothers, he never made the effort to fully learn. Though the little study he did do helped him greatly.'
'I can show you the system now if you wish. Fëanáro wrote it all in a book. I knew it would not come to waste!'
'What do you mean 'not come to waste' ' Siofra questioned, puzzled.
'Dear, the book you were looking at pictures in was about embroidery, it is written on the cover. The pictures are drawings of tapestries, many with historic depictions, such as Cuiviénen. I know elflings are educated in the Woods, so you should be able to read...Unless you, had a learning difficulty, such as what hindered Tyelko from reading. It is nothing to be ashamed of, trust me. You just need a little help.'
'How...how did you know...?' Siofra looked stunned. 'No one knows, except my otorno...well I think Oromë knows too but he never cared much for books.'
'I did not raise seven boys without learning a trick or two.' Nerdanel replied warmly. 'Now shall we begin lesson number one?'
'Yes! Siofra exclaimed, with an enthusiasm to learn literature her Atar never had. 'Thank you'.
'It is my pleasure moina.' Nerdanel fetched the dusty book from the shelf and set it down on the table, along with a quill, ink and spare parchment.
'Nerdanel' Siofra started, voice suddenly uneasy. 'Do not tell anyone I cannot read, please.'
'I would not dare, child' Nerdanel almost shook her head as 'the list' of secrets she muct not share had something added to it after years of nothing.
That damn, stubborn Fëanorion pride! She thought to herself.
sSsSssSsSsSsSsSsSsSsSSSSs
Quenya Translations:
Haru- Grandfather
Indyo- Grandchild
Moina- dear
sSSSsSsSSSsSSsSSsSSsSsSsSs
The longest chapter to date! I could have split it in two and posted over two weeks but I was like 'Nah, if I was a reader I would hate to have to wait when the chapter is sitting there waiting to be updated.'
So! Mahtan has been rendered speechless! Nerdanel is just there like 'Ha! I was right! I am not crazy!'
Siofra not knowing how to handle visiting is such a mood.
I love Nerdanel as a warm, loving granny.(It feels weird calling her a granny though, like she's too young...but she's not...ya get me?)I think the reading lessons were so cute.
Also Siofra selling Kyelaeron out straight away like 'Yeah I totally can read, its my really dumb otorno that can't.' Kyelaeron just there rolling his eyes.
Sorry not sorry for a few unnecessary anecdotes. Baby Ambarussa is just too cute to not write five paragraphs. And the 'punch Angaráto' bet was too good to omit.
Is it bad that immature, adolescent Tyelko refusing point blanc to study because he wants to go run around outside reminds me of myself?
Kyelaeron and Vayelya! The truth (well a part of it anyway) has been revealed. Kyelaeron is way too sharp to be fooled. It was like he was a detective or something figuring it out!
Kyelaeron's family apparently like to make and break flutes!
I probably talk about the silver eyes way too much but oh well. They were necessary to link nephew to aunt.
A big thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story to date. Please review and Happy Halloween!
SiofraMarina x