LAKE MITHRIM - THE YOUNGER HOUSES


As sunlight streamed in through the crack between the tent flaps, Nelyo marveled at the smile on Tyelko's face. His brother had ever been quick to anger, but it had been so long since his brother had been quick to laugh. Had Tyelko laughed since the Valar had freed Morgoth from his prison?

And yet here he lounged, stretched out against Huan on the hide covered floors, cackling at a story Káno told about their nephew Tyelperinquar. His stomach churned between elation and despair. He had met Tyelpë the day before, a beautiful boy who shared his mother's poise and father's eagerness to learn. He only wished it had not taken years to hug his own family.

He wished Tyelpë had been allowed to see the Light of Valinor.

Nelyo turned back to the conversation with his brothers. Tyelko sipped at a glass of wine, barely recovered from his laughing fit.

"You really should get back on your feet, Nelyo. Someone needs to help Nixiel with Tyelpë and I'm not going to do it," Tyelko said. "Curvo is enough work on his own."

Nelyo forced a smile, adjusting himself in bed to air straighter. "I took care of six brothers and a cousin." Memories of happy days flashed across his vision for a moment: chasing toddlers on verdant fields, dodging fists thrown by boys but waste high. "I will leave Tyelpë in the capable hands of his mother."

"Not his father?" Káno said. A wry smile graced his lips. "Your true colors come out now."

"Have you been sneaking wine, Nelyo?"

He let out a small laugh. "No. No wine, and not his father's hands. Curvo has enough on his plate in the forge. Tyelpë should learn from Nixiel."

Tyelko nodded. "There we very much agree. He and his smiths have been hard at work perfecting weaponcraft. Irissë has shown us some of what the younger houses have created and it pales in comparison. If they are to be useful against Morgoth, we will have to work even harder."

His brother's voice dropped with disdain at the mention of the houses of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë. Not all hurts could be mended so easily. His gaze drifted down to the bandages on his severed wrist.

Some moments, Nelyo could feel his hand. He felt the pain of tightened iron digging into his flesh. White hot agony filled his arm as he felt Finno's blade slice through bone.

But then he would look down, reaching to grasp his own hand to his chest. Then he would remember what happened. He saw the weeping bandages from the slowly healing stump.

Eve assured him he would recover. She had faith in his strength. He had not survived for nothing. She helped as best she could, but sometimes Nelyo yearned for silence.

Finno understood. As Eve had slept upon his awakening, they spent many hours in quiet conversation. Nelyo knew he could never apologize enough to make things right. Elenwë's drowning, Arakáno's death, their blood was on his hands.

His and his brothers'. Nelyo glanced up at Káno and Tyelko. Conversation had drifted to war news. The Hunters had found some pocket of orcs in the mountains that they managed to root out. Fury, arrogance, recklessness. These traits they all shared drove daggers into their hopes at unity.

No apologies could make up for the mistakes made by firelight. And he wasn't sure his brothers would make the gesture even if there were.

Perhaps Eve had been right. Perhaps he had survived for a reason. Hung from the side of a cliff like forgotten refuse, he would do what his unmaimed brothers would not.

"I am going to offer the kingship to Nolofinwë."

Silence. Tyelko's smile disappeared. Káno's jest died mid sentence. Even Huan's wagging tail stilled.

He winced. He had meant to bring it up slowly, to ease them into it. Curse the recklessness in his blood.

"Are you mad." Tyelko leaned forward, away from Huan.

Káno furrowed his brow. "I cannot believe you."

"Give the crown to Nolofinwë? You must be joking," Tyelko said. "Are you mad?"

With the silence broken, Nelyo felt his resolve harden. Káno rose from his chair and moved over to the bedside, arms crossed. He could sense the concern in his brother's heart, a steady burning compared to the raging sparks in Tyelko.

"Are you saying this because you feel you are indebted to Findekáno?"

Tyelko sneered, pushing himself to his feet as well. He paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Did Findekáno put you up to this? Did he demand it as payment?"

How they could think such ill thoughts of Finno, Nelyo could not imagine. Warmth filled his chest, then his face. He sat forward. "Take care how you speak of Finno. I love you each dearly but it was not your valor that brought me home."

Tyelko scoffed, turning away, but quieted.

"You must understand our concern, Nelyo." Káno lowered his voice, gesturing back to the door. "We owe Finno a debt that we cannot pay, but that does not mean we hand his father the crown."

"Do you think so little of me now that you believe I would do this without thought?" Nelyo ran his hand through his short hair and laughed without mirth. "I am not giving Nolofinwë the crown out of despairing guilt."

"Then some foul sorcery of Morgoth's has been laid on you," Tyelko snapped. "Or perhaps our sister has woven words against your own kin."

He balled his fist. "Watch how you speak of Eve, and of Finno." Unused muscles ached as he swung his legs off the side of the bed. He would not be spoken to thusly. "Neither Eve nor Findekáno spoke to me of the crown. It was out of wisdom and kindness that Finno rescued me. They both realize as I do that division will be our undoing. It was a desire to move past this that gave Finno the strength to bring me home."

"Division will be our downfall," Káno said, "Perhaps Finno is right. Perhaps Eve is right. But I also am right in this: beware the curse of Mandos. His doom spoke of more than division."

A new wave of pain hit Nelyo as he tried to stand. He could hear the words Mandos had prophesied in the freezing north, the waters raging from Uinen's tears. He did not need his brother to recite them. But he did anyway.

"'The Dispossessed shall they be forever' he said." Káno watched Nelyo struggle to stand. "Our father's house does not deserve to fade to nothingness."

Before Nelyo could respond, Tyelko threw his goblet of wine to the ground. "Let the Valar burn alongside Morgoth for all I care. I care nothing for their dooms. But Káno is right in one thing: our house has died for our cause, bled and burned on these foreign shores to regain what was stolen. How dare you move to give away our birthright!"

Huan whined. He stood off the ground, nearly filling the space. A few gentle licks on Tyelko's hand seemed to bring his heart rate down.

Fury. He could feel it welling up inside him even as Tyelko exploded before his eyes.

He stood. Fire raced through his body, rage and pain mingling to fuel him. He struggled still with recklessness and anger but at least Morgoth's torture had cured him of one Fëanorian trait. Arrogance meant nothing to a dead man.

"I will not stand in your way, Nelyo, if you believe this is worth the risk," Káno said, voice low, his gaze taking in every tremble in Nelyo's body.

Tyelko looked between them. He shook his head, glaring. "Findekáno did us a great service in bringing you home, and for this reason I am willing to work with the younger houses. But to give up your crown?" He growled. "How could you? We regain our king just to lose him once again? We trusted you. Father trusted you!"

"Father is gone!"

Nelyo shook, anger and pain keeping him aloft. He pushed them down and reached for something else. He reached for Eve's faith. He reached for Finno's hope.

"Father is gone. He appointed me to carry out his final decree: revenge upon Morgoth, our greatest foe. I do not care for a crown of gold upon my head: more like a noose, for with it Morgoth will kill us all. But if passing that golden noose to the house of Nolofinwë means we can band together once again, what better way to bring revenge upon our Foe who sowed division amongst us himself?"

Silence filled the tent once more. Káno sat back down, head in his hand.

"Are you going to stand in my way?"

Tyelko let one hand fall to his side. With a tiny shake of his head, he lowered his voice. "It pains me that you believe I would take up arms against you. You are my brother. And though you wish to give away your title, you are my king."

"We will not stand in your way, Nelyo," Káno said.

"Good."

The sunlight blinded him as he stepped beyond his tent. His simple tunic, too large on his boney frame, buffeted in the wind. Blue sky stretched from horizon to horizon. The darkness that had hidden Finno's rescue dissipated for that day at least. Nelyo took it as a good sign.

He could feel the gazes of the Younger Houses' followers on him as he began to walk through their camp. Nolofinwë had not visited since he awoke some days prior. He was glad of it. Pride flowed through the veins of every member of the House of Finwë and he wasn't sure if he could have tempered his own immediately upon waking.

Hollow aches and burning pain filled him with every step upon the earth. But he kept his head high. He was a son of Fëanáro, eldest grandchild of High King Finwë. Though he believed what he said of the crown to his brothers, he also understood what this choice meant.

There would be no return from this. The House of Fëanáro would forever lose their heritage.

"I seek an audience with Prince Nolofinwë."

His voice stayed strong, though he felt his body waver. The small clearing before Nolofinwë's large tent filled with curious faces, old and young. He could feel Tyelko and Káno behind him.

"Be sure of your choice, brother," Káno said in his head.

Upon the arrival of Findekáno, Findaráto, and Nolofinwë from inside the tent, he felt his spirit flare. He knew this was the only choice.

The only chance.

"It brings me great joy to see you on your feet," Nolofinwë said. He smiled, and it appeared genuine.

"Thank you, Lord."

Nelyo paused. The words froze in his throat. He felt the wind caress his broken body and took a deep breath.

"Strife lies between our peoples, Lord Nolofinwë. By the lies of Morgoth, the great people of the Noldor stand divided. Kingship I bear over one half. And though I hold that charge close to my heart, I appear before you now to renounce that claim."

A hush fell over the gathered hosts. Nelyo could feel the weight of his words on the wind. He was no Vala, but he knew he too spoke a doom.

"If there lay no grievance between us, Lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise. But grievance there is.

"I ask your forgiveness, King Nolofinwë, for the part I and my brothers played in the desertion at Araman. Though I sought to send the ships back for your people, our people, I neglected my duties when I did not pursue that course further. We alone are to blame for the flames. We alone are to blame for the water and the ice of Helcaraxë."

He found Itarillë's golden hair. The girl stood between Eve and Irissë, barefooted and teary eyed. Nelyo's throat stung.

Turning back to Nolofinwë, he shook himself of his nightmares. "Prince Findekáno owed me nothing. Indeed, it is to him that a debt is owed. But it is not for this unpayable debt that I renounced our claim to the kingship. Findekáno knew what I now know to be true: our doom upon these shores lies in division. And so I say now, let there be no more strife between us. I beg your forgiveness. And even if forgiveness is refused, I pledge myself, my brothers, and our house to you."

He felt himself wobble as he dropped to one knee. A stab of pain shot up his thigh as his kneecap connected with grassy earth. Tears stung at his eyes. He could hardly breathe. But he stayed there on his knees.

"Stand, Lord Nelyafinwë."

He tried. But his muscles would not work, and he remained there, broken.

"Stand, Nelyo!" Káno urged in silence.

He felt an arm slip under his own. Nelyo looked up in surprise as Tyelko eased him up, nodding only slightly to him. Nelyo felt his chest lighten ever so slightly as he leaned on Tyelko for support.

Nolofinwë walked forward, meeting them in the center of the small open space before his tent.

"Let all now hear. In Aman did I offer forgiveness to Fëanáro. Here in these lands do I offer now forgiveness to his son. Nelyafinwë, your words bring me great hope," he said. Nolofinwë turned around for a moment, glancing at Finno. "I thought my son a fool to set off in search of you. But he proved instead wisest and most valiant of us all. As you have said here, divided we will lose this war."

Nelyo looked at him as he offered his left hand for a handshake. His throat tightened once more.

"I accept your supplication. I shall rule our people, a unified House of Finwë, to victory over Morgoth. Let all tremble at our battle cry."

Nelyo took his hand. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he shook his new king's hand, an uncle he has never favored, a ruler who should not have been.

But much should not have been. And as Nelyo looked past Nolofinwë to the faces of Eve, of Finno, of Itarillë, he knew he had done right by his people. He would not rule them deeper into division. Morgoth had tried to break him up on Thangorodrim. Instead he had merely cured him of one of Fëanáro's flaws. A part of him had indeed died there on the mountain: arrogance.

Nothing would withstand the vengeance of a humble son of Fëanáro. Not even a Vala.