Chapter Nineteen: Forgework

Of course, Finwë was more than true to his word, and by the next year, to my delight and gratitude, a forge was built beside my home on the walls of Tirion. Also in that year, another son was born to Nerdanel and me, whom Nerdanel named Tyelkormo, Hasty Riser, and I named Turkafinwë, Strong Finwë.

He shared his dark hair with Makalaurë and me, but his grey eyes were Nerdanel's, though they had a passionate lust for life that his quiet, somber mother did not have. Tyelkormo was different from the rest of his family in many other ways as well. Unlike his older brothers, he was a demanding and impatient child, and Nerdanel alone could not tend to him. Often it took all four of us to get our youngest family member into a happy mood. It was a fortunate thing that once Tyelkormo was content, he remained thus for a long while.

I spent what time I could with my three growing sons and my wife, but many of my hours were spent working slavishly in my forge.

My first formal undertaking in my new forge was a flute for Makalaurë. I knew that if my work in the forge pertained to the arts of music, my second son's interest would be caught.

Indeed, for one of the few times ever in our lives, Makalaurë spent the greater part of his time with me in the forge, watching me work, asking questions. With the aid of Aulë, I made Makalaurë a small, exquisite silver flute, with golden workings upon its delicate shaft.

When I finally presented it to him on the morning of his sixteenth birthday, the boy was clearly enchanted.

"Oh! It is lovely!" He exclaimed, sounding as surprised as if he had not been watching me work on it over my shoulder for the past month.

"Is it fit for your needs?" I asked, smiling proudly.

Makalaurë's hand hovered over the instrument, but he seemed afraid to take it.

"It is perfect," he assured me with fervency, "It is more than perfect. At first--" Makalaurë hesitated, his soft eyes looking up at me askance through his dark, curling bangs. "At first, I thought you would not make it for me. I thought you believed I was silly to want such a thing. Do you think it is childish of me to play music?"

"No, of course not, Kana," I promised him, fondly ruffling his hair, forgetting my earlier thoughts. "Whatever you shall do with your life will bring your mother and me only honor and pride."

"Really?"

"Yes, my son."

"Good. I do not like to play rough games and chase dogs," Makalaurë declared, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "I would like to play music instead."

I laughed. "Very well. Play your music, if it is your wish."

"Thank you, Father!" He cried, delighted, and started to scamper off, flute clutched delicately in both hands.

"Kana?"

"Yes?" Makalaurë halted, turning to look at me again with curious eyes.

"I will always be proud of you."

Afterwards, he carried the thing with him wherever he went. He read no written music with it, but played tunes that he abruptly improvised at strange times in the day. I once even caught him at midnight, sitting by the window in his room, flute gleaming in the starlight as he played a few haunting notes.

Aside from the dainty flute, I made other things as well. I began work on glassblowing and made numerous vases and sculptures for my house. I made so many that soon Nerdanel commanded me to start selling them or giving them as gifts to anyone who had the misfortune of dropping by in search of a simple favor or the answer for a question. I also insisted on shoeing all the horses in the stable myself.

Sometimes, to prove I was free of obligation, I even worked without Aulë's aid as I had when making my engagement rings, proving my independence of even the most constant of masters. I was proud to find my work without Aulë's assistance was equal to, if not better than, the works that I made with the help of the Vala.

Finwë visited us more often now, to see his three grandchildren, but luckily he never brought Nolofinwë again. Indeed, we heard only rare of my father's other children, except mentioned offhandedly, and my heart was comforted that so much of his time and love was spent upon me.

The news of the Essecilmë of Finwë's second son and the betrothal of Nolofinwë were not the last of the tidings we were to receive about Indis' children during those years. Nolofinwë was wed, and I declined the invitation my family and I received to the marriage, but the very next year we heard that the Lady Anairë had given birth to their first child, a son named Findekáno.

That was not the last marriage in the family--later in the year, Findis was married to a Noldorin courtier, Nandaro.

However, I managed to keep my family out of the events--we kept to ourselves, and I permitted few family members to visit, and then only out of courtesy.

In the springtime of the year that Tyelkormo turned three, Aulë came to me with surprising news as we worked in the forge one night. We were working together on a cauldron, and the night was growing late.

Often, we would speak as we worked; Aulë took almost as much interest in my children as their grandfather did, and I, of course, was never hesitant to seize an opportunity to proudly tell of my children's deeds and achievements.

Maitimo is so mature for his age. We left him at home with his brothers the other day, when Nerdanel and I went to market. When we returned, he had Makalaurë and Tyelkormo at his feet with his stories. He had even made them a snack to tide them over until dinner. Makalaurë, of course, hardly requires extensive attention now. I think it is the music that has made him mature so quickly. He truly is gifted, Aulë. He can keep a whole ballad in his head for weeks at a time, until he has a passing moment to write it down. Nerdanel and I have taught him nothing of what he knows about music--nothing! And yet he is already the equal of my father's bards.

And Tyelkormo? Aulë asked, his silent and curious voice audible even over the clang of my hammer.

He looks so much like me, I declared proudly. And he has a temper and a pride to equal mine thrice over. He grows quickly, too. I was right to name him as I did; it seems he grows more with each night. I think he will even catch up to tall Maitimo in about ten or twenty years. Makalaurë was always short, but Maitimo is like a young tree. He is very like his littlest brother in that way--

Pay attention! Those seams should be watertight, Aulë chided me.

I paused and glanced down at my work, and hammered the seam in question so that the sheets of rapidly cooling iron overlapped neatly.

"There," I said aloud, satisfied.

Do not grow too arrogant,Aulë warned gently. Especially with what is to come.

What is to come?

Aulë gave an amused, noiseless sigh. You are too cunning for me to slip anything by, as usual. Very well-- Curufinwë, I have reason to believe that soon you shall sense a--a blossoming, if you will, of your talent. Because of your growing skill, you shall be able to make great works of beauty and splendor, works that shall make the finest craftsmen in Arda envious of your gift.

Truly?

Would I lie to you, Curufinwë? All I say to you is this: I will not help you during that time--

But you just came back! I interrupted, dismayed, nearly dropping the tongs which held the cauldron on its side.

You will not need me. The works you fashion will be entirely of your own devising.

But then how am I supposed to--

Fear not.

I was not placated at all by this, but there was a finality in Aulë's silent tones. Even if I had wanted to protest further, it was too late; there was an emptiness in my head that told me the Vala had left me for the night. Dismayed, I waited impatiently for the cauldron to cool, then set it in a corner.

Head buzzing with the disturbing notion of being left by my tutor, I doused the forge fire and exited the forge. Weary as I was, it took me hours to fall asleep.