Child of the Woods by Aprilertuile

Nerdanel was sitting at her desk, reading a letter from a customer. She was pregnant enough it was showing and slowing her down in her crafting, but not enough that she felt she should be slowing down, so she felt the process was more frustrating than it really should be.

And her oh so thoughtful husband would perhaps not survive this pregnancy if he didn’t let her do what she needed to do without being at her side offering to do everything for her.

Want a glass of water? ‘please don’t move my love, I’ll go get you a glass.’

Want some food? ‘don’t worry my dear, I can get it for you, does venison sound good?’

Want to open a window? ‘Stay seated beloved, I’ll open it for you.’

Learning from watching their father, the kids, Maitimo and Makalaurë had both taken to stay to play or study around their mother to help at a single prompting. She just had to start raising from her seat and both kids were up to their feet, ready to help with whatever she needed.

It was cute.

It was also overbearing and she. Was. Going. To. Murder. Them. All.

So while Fëanáro was busy with Makalaurë outside and Maitimo was busy doing his essay on politics and the founding of the government of Tirion, she had gone to her office to try to catch up to her correspondence at the very least.

And oh, letters were interesting, one more than the others admittedly.

She just received an order for a statue of Yavanna for the next planting season festival. She had time still but not so much that she could wait until after the birth.

However could she also really let that opportunity pass her by and risk becoming obsolete in the face of an ever changing crowd of art enjoyers?

She was thinking about it when Fëanáro entered her office, looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown:

“Nerda...”

“We’re going to Yavanna’s pasture!” She decided.

The sound he made was an interesting mix of a puppy whine and an angry kettle. She didn’t even know an elven throat could make those sorts of sounds.

“Nerdanel, my light, my love, surely you don’t mean...”

“I received an order for a statue of Yavanna for the next planting season. I absolutely REFUSE to let that opportunity pass me by, and I need inspiration. So I’m going to the Pastures of Yavanna for inspiration and who knows, perhaps I’ll meet her even, if she has the time and the inclination to meet me. And you can either come with me, or stay home, but I will be going whether or not you like it.” She snapped.

“But you’re pregnant!” He squeaked.

“And I’ll still be pregnant on the road, I can assure you!”

“What if something happens?!”

“Then you better start to pray nothing happens, don’t you?”

“Nerda...”

“Fëanáro. If I miss this opportunity, it’ll be offered to the next sculptor who can work wood, and it is absolutely OUT of the question that I let anyone win over some of MY customers!” She hissed.

Fëanáro frowned at that.

“Yes but...”

“I am NOT letting anyone upstage me. If they are only better than me when I’m not here then they don’t deserve to take my customers from me!”

She could see on her husband’s face the crafter’s pride she knew well battling with his worry for her health.

“I will go with or without you, you will not be able to lock me in the house, Fëanáro.”

“Fine, we’ll go.” Fëanáro grumbled clearly unhappy with that decision.

“That’s the spirit. You can prepare the boys’ bags, I’ll prepare mine. And we need supplies. How about we leave in two days, that should give us enough time, right?”

Fëanáro just watched her with a kind of adoring helplessness as she started to plan what they needed to do to leave on time.

He wasn’t sure they really needed most of her crafting tools but he was half afraid to tell her that. She could be fierce when she had an idea and a plan.

In the end, he left her at her listing, going to his own office. He had letters to send to warn at least his father and his seneschal.

He must admit he was a bit surprised. She wasn’t feeling that restless when she was pregnant with Makalaurë or Maitimo.

Could he reasonably have a healer join them on their journey?

He grimaced: probably not, and he didn’t want to test the limits of her patience. 

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Fëanáro hated to admit it, but Nerdanel seemed happier on the road than she had been at home recently.

She was pretty reasonable as well. If ‘reasonable’ was the right term for a heavily pregnant woman who decided to travel far from home on a whim.

Fëanáro and Maitimo were using their own horses, if only because Maitimo would need to leave them sooner or later to go back to his studies and work at the palace, but Makalaurë and Nerdanel were using the family cart.

It was better than he had feared, honestly. He wouldn’t have put it past his infuriatingly headstrong wife to decide to ride her horse instead. He had almost cried of relief when she had got onto the cart upon the hour of their departure.

She had planned frequent pauses in their travels to rest, and he couldn’t help but think that the journey that was already going to be long would be exceptionally longer than he had hoped.

But again, she might need those frequent stops, and Fëanáro didn’t know whether skipping them to arrive sooner would be a better or worse idea. 

Even if he was aware that logically, the child wouldn’t be born the next day, Nerdanel was still closer to term than he was comfortable with considering they were travelling and how long they should be taking to arrive.

At least, Makalaurë was in the cart with his mother and seemed to enjoy telling her stories and listening to her own stories in turn.

Perhaps he’d be able to tell if anything were to happen. Eru knew his wife wouldn’t admit to anything wrong out of stubbornness alone.

They travelled at a lazy pace for about half a day, before Nerdanel decided to stop. She wanted to eat, and she wanted a break from the cart.

She accepted Makalaurë’s hand to get down the cart, fully aware that if she was to fall, Makalaurë would never be able to catch up and would fall with her instead. She was too amused at his attempt to refuse him. Meanwhile, Fëanáro took one of the baskets of food from the cart.

While Maitimo was, somewhat grudgingly, checking the horses, Fëanaro, Nerdanel and Makalaurë settled down to eat, just waiting for the red-head to join them to start lunch.

Makalaurë was humming something under his breath as he waited rather impatiently. Fëanáro wasn’t surprised. That child of his was never silent, and was also, it seemed, a bottomless pit.

Like his brother at the same age, to be perfectly fair, and, probably, like he had been at their age a number of years ago.

They had fresh meat cooked the day before in preparation for the journey, and bread, fresh fruits and vegetables...

At 59, his eldest was... Well, taller than himself was, and alas very happy to make trouble with his brother for the fun of it.

That’s how Fëanáro and Nerdanel found themselves sitting side by side, Nerdanel leaning against his side, watching the kids bicker like... Well... Children... Over a piece of fruit Maitimo stole from his brother’s plate.

Never mind the fact there were dozens of other similar fruits in the container in front of them.  Fëanáro entertained the brief thought of stopping that silliness, but Nerdanel chuckling at his side convinced him to let the boys be.

He supposed they weren’t doing any harm.

He sighed tiredly when Makalaurë, in a huff, started to sing a mocking rendition of one of his study songs, with apparently brand-new lyrics painting the miserable adventures of a red-headed food thief. Far from being offended, Maitimo was humming along with his brother, looking more and more amused, until he fell of laughter at:

“alas, oh alas, for the thief

One day came soon,

When he ate the house,

No more food to find,

Only wood and steel

The shell of an empty home”

Fëanáro had to admit he was quite amused at the speed at which his second son was thinking up lyrics to suit him.

Alright, lyrics mainly to mock his brother, but also...

“I beg your pardon, there are many more materials to the house than just wood and steel. Also steel in this case is a misnomer...”

Maitimo’s cackle echoed Nerdanel’s snort of amusement at Makalaurë ‘s groan of pain as his father started to describe the exact alloy he had used in the process of building the house.

“Dad... I don’t care how the house was built.” He said deadpan.

“Even art can do with a touch of realism. My house was a gift to your mother. I made it through several years of work, which required extensive knowledge and research.”

“If I promise to cease and desist, will you please spare me a lecture on house building? Please?”

“Of course, my son. Now, shall we eat in peace?” Fëanáro asked with his most charming smile.

Nerdanel was laughing openly, and leaned against him to kiss his cheek at that.

Makalaurë threw him a glare, but pouting settled back, picking up his plate from the floor where he had left it. 

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Their arrival in the Pasture of Yavanna had been quiet. They had been gladly welcomed, and Nerdanel had graciously avoided commenting on the looks some of the Maiar were giving her.

Fëanáro hadn’t felt half as kind but Nerdanel’s hand on his arm had held him back.

However, that same night, as Maitimo and Makalaurë had gone to sleep, Nerdanel had quietly gotten up to her feet, breathing carefully, and grabbed him:

“I am having the baby.”

“Excellent dear.”

She raised an eyebrow and just waited... And a few moments later: “WAIT! WHAT?!” Fëanáro exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

“I am having the baby.”

“Here and now?”

“No, in six months. YES here and now. So you will move your ass and help me!”

“No, no, no, you need to sit down and...”

“And offer our young sons the incredible sight of their mother giving birth to a bloody baby? I don’t think so. You. Help me. Now. Or I will castrate you to make sure it’ll be the last time we have this conversation.”

Fëanáro gulped and just offered her his arm.

“Good.”

“We can lead you to a safe place where you will not be disturbed and one of us is gone to Estë.” One of the... Maiar? Plants? Things? Told them, before shifting into a somewhat elven looking body, only one with bark like skin, amber-sap coloured eyes, and ivy for hair.

Fëanáro was itching to tell them exactly what they had done wrong in their portrayal of elves, but Nerdanel’s nails were now pinching the skin of his arm and he was pretty sure she was either about to pop the baby out or to tear out his arm.

The maia, for it was certainly one, led them to a secluded place not that far away where Nerdanel sat down on the moss with a groan.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed our years of intimacy because this was the last.” She muttered darkly for her husband.

“My adored wife, light of my life, however much I’d adore to have more children with you, shall you say stop, I would of course gladly comply with your desires and...”

“Fëanáro... I love you. I do. But you will stop with the pompous attitude, stop talking and hug me.”

Fëanáro looked mildly offended at that. Pompous? What pompous attitude? He wasn’t pompous!

But he couldn’t help a smile as he held her in his arms.

Soon enough another Maia arrived, alongside a couple of others far less plant-looking.

“You should give those other maiar lessons, because I don’t think they quite realise what an elf looks like.” Fëanáro said in a high pitched voice, even as a contraction hit his wife.

“Oh... Rudeness is your way to deal with stress?” One of the plant maiar said with a condescending tone of realisation.

It wasn’t done to start a fight while his wife was giving birth but it was really not for a lack of desire to do so that Fëanáro held back.

The birth was quick. Quicker than Nelyo’s birth had been, really.

When he greeted the world, that child hadn’t surprised him with his size. Neither had he broken several pieces of precious glass with his baby voice.

And yet, Fëanáro, seeing the infant, had nearly started to hyperventilate.

The child was a normal size, close to the size Makalaurë had been at birth, perhaps just a tad smaller. And the maia said he was healthy.

His cries had been as heartbreaking as any infant’s cry could be, but what had made Fëanáro react was his hair.

The newborn had a thin fuzz of hair as silver as... His own mother’s hair had been.

While Nerdanel had been exhausted and found it adorable... Fëanáro couldn’t help the shiver of dread that ran through him.

What if the child shared more things with his grand-mother?

What if he died because of this?

Was it a curse? Was he doomed to lose those he loved?

How would he know if the babe slept too much and was just... Slipping into Námo’s Halls unnoticed as his mother had at first?

“Don’t you want to hold your child?” The maia asked him.

Fëanáro looked at him as if he was stupid.

Touch the child? Right now? What if he just... fell asleep and died? What if just when the healer would leave something happened?

No, no, no, bad idea. Very bad idea. The child needs to stay in the arms of the healer. Yes, that’s a far better idea.

“Fëanáro, love, stop being an idiot, I want my child too, so take the child and come sit with me.” Nerdanel grouched.

Fëanáro could feel himself shaking as the maia put the child in his arms. He was frozen until he was pushed to sit at his wife’s side.

“He looks like...”

Nerdanel put a hand on his face gently:

“And he has your strength. Believe in him, my love. Believe in him.”

They settled there to rest, the baby in his father’s arms, and Nerdanel leaning against Fëanáro’s side.

Nerdanel’s words were turning around in Fëanáro’s head over, and over.

“Turkafinwë is my name for you, my son. So you will carry that strength wherever you go. You are strong and strong, you will remain... Please...” Fëanáro whispered to the child, long after his wife fell asleep at his side. 

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Despite Fëanáro’s fretting, the birth had gone well. Despite his checking on his new baby’s health every few moments, the child was well, sleeping, and eating, and crying and pooping, like all babies did.

However, a secluded spot close to the encampment wasn’t actually secluded enough or far enough for sound to not have reached the two sleeping younger elves.

Maitimo and Makalaurë had both been awakened by the sounds of the birth, and both had tiptoed closer, just far enough to stay out of the way and so out of notice from their parents, but close enough to have a good idea of what was happening, and both decided on the spot that they never wanted to have children.

In the morning they had been formally introduced to their baby brother.

It had been... A sight.

Now Nerdanel was resting in her husband’s arms, and the baby was, Makalaurë supposed, with Maitimo.

Makalaurë himself had gone a bit farther away from his family’s camp, in a suspiciously convenient spot, an area of soft grass under his feet, surrounded by heavy bushes and little trees of interesting shapes, studying intensively for his music lesson.

It was perhaps just a bit of distraction from his recent discoveries on childbirth.

Who knew the process could be this...

Gross?

And babies so... Ugly?

He couldn’t tell his parents that, for they seemed enamoured with the new baby, and his opinion didn’t seem to be shared either by the maiar around, for it seemed they all came to see his baby brother with the startlingly clear hair.

But a newborn baby was Ugly! There was no other word for it. Like those pickled prunes their father had once tried to make (and failed, but detail).

In any case: music.

He loved it. The harp was a fantastic instrument, and it was pretty hard to make mistakes that would hurt someone’s ears. So at least with this instrument, he could play without ‘disturbing the baby, Makalaurë!’ as his mother said when he tried to play, staying near his family.

He was trying to write a composition.

He wasn’t yet very good at that. But he would get better at it. He would.

However that day wasn’t this day, for his brother joined him in the clearing, walking on a dead branch that snapped under his feet, with a noise that Makalaurë found not loud and dramatic enough for all it heralded the end of his peaceful and quiet study time.

Maitimo, his beloved brother that he didn’t at all want to strangle for that, came to him and deposited in his arms their little brother Turkafinwë, who was crying his little heart out: an infant that was sounding purely heartbroken.

“Nelyo!” Makalaurë squeaked in alarm.

“Mom and dad are busy and I need to go back to Tirion now or I’ll be late for the start of the season at court, and I can’t take care of the baby. Deal with it!” Maitimo said before leaving him in a hurry.

Makalaurë looked at the closing door with a vague face of betrayal.

He wasn’t busy himself perhaps?

Ugh. Brothers.

He eyed his crying littlest brother:

“Hey, Turko, what’s the tragedy, hm? Why cry?”

The sound of his voice only induced a short hiccup of vague calm-curiosity in his brother before the tears and baby cries started again.

Makalaurë pushed his harp to the side slightly, and stood on his feet.

He knew from having seen mothers in Tirion do it that babies could calm down when they were in the arms of someone walking.

So he walked in a circle around the clearing.

And walked.

And walked.

And still the baby filled his ears with his cries.

And on the edge of the clearing stood suspiciously curious animals watching them.

Because that was entirely natural animal behaviour and not eerie at all.

Ugh, maiar. All curious and not one to take his baby brother from him to help.

Now Makalaurë too wanted to cry. His brother wasn’t calming down, he was getting late in his lesson plan, and no one was coming in to save him from the inconsolable baby.

Makalaurë stopped in the middle of his pacing, and started humming mindlessly, trying to think, and Eru knew it was hard to think with his brother’s voice in his ears.

Only....

The baby was crying softly now, no more screams of discontent, as the baby had his eyes focused on him suddenly.

“Music hm?” Makalaurë mused.

Well that at least he could do.

Somewhat.

Only... However much he tried he couldn’t think of a single lullaby.

And he had just started on his instruments. The flute with only one hand he could freed without dropping his brother was not going to be possible, and the harp...

Hm...

Makalaurë started humming a soft, simplistic melody that would probably have his father look at him in derision in a sort of: ‘What do we pay teachers for if that’s all you can do still?’

However... Whatever worked in this case.

The young elf sat at his harp, his baby brother positioned carefully so he could hold him in only one arm, and he started to play.

At first the melody wasn’t quite what he had in mind...

But he insisted until he finally managed.

He started to sing alongside the melody, mindless lyrics that came to his mind:

Sleep brother mine,

Oh sleep, brother mine,

It is night time,

At last, close your eyes,

Oh stop crying,

I beg, I love you,

With you I’ll stay,

Now and forever

Oh he knew he’d never prove his mastery of music with that but against his chest, baby Tyelkormo had grabbed a strand of his hair in his little fingers and was yawning tiredly, eyes fixed on him, whining silenced, eyes finally dried and closing slowly.

Makalaurë breathed a sigh of relief at his baby brother finally sleeping, and not crying.

However he had no idea what he was supposed to do now.

Surely he couldn’t leave the baby here, take his harp back and come back for the baby, but then again, leaving his harp here alone unsupervised with strange maiar around didn’t inspire him confidence either, and he needed his harp.

Why children couldn’t just pop up into existence already at an age of being able to walk and speak?

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Nerdanel had recovered swiftly from the birth. And while she was working on the sculpture that she had a limited time left to complete and send, using material graciously given by Yavanna’s maiar, Fëanáro was taking care of the children and looking for inspiration himself.

Sadly he has been forbidden to cut wood to build a proper crib for their infant. Yavanna had made one herself with living plants. He could admit it was pretty enough but he didn’t. Trust. The. Thing.

It MOVED!

Nerdanel had found charming that the crib of living unidentified plants were moving when the baby was within the crib, but who knew what the plants were really feeding off of! And how far would it move? There was no proof that one day they wouldn’t just find the crib upturned and their child on the floor!

Nerdanel had called him an idiot and left their baby son in the crib every night. So Fëanáro had to wait every night until she fell asleep to go take his son back from that infernal plant to put him in a far more reasonable bed.

“He would be fine, you know.” One maia told him one night.

The only living thing that looked sentient around was an owl, but Fëanáro wouldn’t put it past one of the Powers to be an actual tree. For all he knew the crib was actually a maia in disguise.

“That thing moves, so no I don’t know.”

“Your creations move too. The cribs I mean.”

“Cribs are a fine technology, duly tested, well identified, with all parts made carefully and specifically for their defined purpose. THAT is not a crib, it’s a mess of unidentified garden plants that could break or move too far for all anyone knows. And speak less loudly, you’ll awaken my wife!” Fëanáro snapped.

“You speak more loudly than him, and yes husband, you are ridiculous. Now let our son sleep and come back to bed.” Nerdanel grumbled, making him wince.

“You... Heard us. I mean, I didn’t want to wake you up...”

“I felt you move, as I do every night. Now stop being an idiot and let us all sleep, Tyelkormo isn’t going to disappear in the night. Particularly not here.” Nerdanel said with a tired yawn.

Fëanáro turned to look at her at that with a frown:

“What do you mean, ‘particularly not here’?”

“You didn’t notice? There’s always a maia of Yavanna around him. They’re apparently curious to see a baby from up close. I’m thinking of delegating diaper change to them.”

There was a faint alarmed sounding ‘eep’ in the night and then a sort of still silence that grated on Fëanáro’s nerves in its complete unnaturalness, despite Nerdanel’s soft, silent laughter.

“You’re not seriously thinking of doing that?!”

“Why not? It’d be entertaining, I’m sure.”

“Nerdanel, you can’t trust maiar with our baby! They’ll forget to feed him or change him and we’ll find him later dead on a windowsill somewhere!”

Nerdanel looked at him with a raised eyebrow:

“Do they even have a windowsill somewhere?”

“You aren’t taking me seriously!” Fëanáro told her.

“No indeed, I’m not. Be serious love, you’re always around our son. What do you think will happen? Apart from you traumatising those poor maiar, that is.”

Fëanáro’s eyes grew large, his face indignant.

He wasn’t the problem here! THEY were! THEY were constantly sniffing around his baby boy, no doubt tempted to do something eerie to him because maiar were just that different and wouldn’t understand the baby like they, his parents, could.

“I can assure you that we have no such intention!” Grumbled a bush nearby.

And what was his life that he felt perfectly normal now to have a conversation with a bush?! He needed to go back to the Halls of Aulë. At least there things were normal, and the only song he could hear was that of the stone and gems, which was perfectly NORMAL.

“Don’t read my mind!” Fëanáro snapped at him. Her? It? How do you even gender a damn plant?

“Him, and learn to close your mind then! Seriously, you’re like someone shouting their discontent in our face and then telling us off for answering your screamed accusation.”

Wait? What? He knew basic shielding of course, all elves did, but the maia implied that wasn’t enough. Did that apply to everyone? Or was he just too loud? How would closing his mind work without closing his wife out? Or would closing his mind not block the familial bounds he had with his children?

There was a deeply heartfelt sigh from the bush.

“Elf. Let your child sleep, and go to sleep.” The bush grumbled.

“Only if you’ll answer my questions in the morning.”

“Agreed. Now stop thinking so loud.”

Fëanáro found himself wondering what to do for his child, and a mattress of soft RECOGNIZABLE moss appeared next to his and Nerdanel’s bed.

Alright. That he would trust. Not the mystery moving plant. 

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It didn’t take as long as Fëanáro had thought for Nerdanel to finish her statue. Yavanna had looked intrigued, and Nerdanel had managed, Fëanáro didn’t know how, to convince one of the Valië’s maiar to take the statue to her customer.

His wife was a miracle who could talk to people in a way he just couldn’t and he didn’t understand how she was doing that.

Alas, his delightful wife seemed quite taken with the Pasture of Yavanna, and the Valië herself, and so the little family stayed there longer than Fëanáro thought strictly necessary.

And now he found himself waking up from a nap... And having lost his baby child.

“NERDANEL! MAKALAURE!” He called in a panic, running to the last place he had seen his wife.

“Here love!” Nerdanel said.

“Turkafinwë disappeared!”

Nerdanel blinked at him at that:

“Turkafinwë is a baby, dear. He can’t have disappeared that far. Have you asked a maia?”

“Our son disappeared! Why are you so calm?!”

“Love, our son doesn’t walk yet. If he wasn’t where you left him, then one of the maiar have certainly seen him. I told you, he can’t just disappear. And you’d know it if you thought about it a few moments. So calm down and we’ll go look for our son.” Nerdanel answered him, the tired voice of reason.

Yavanna had her head tilted to the side stiffly, eyes eerily light. All the movements the valar made when corporeal were stiff, Fëanáro noted.

Well, but for those who were unnaturally fluid.

Not a single one of them managed to look natural.

“Your son is with one of my maiar. Come, I’ll lead you there.”

Fëanáro was fretting the few minutes it took them to reach the place where they would find the baby again...

And when they arrived, Nerdanel giggled at the sight.

A maia was carrying baby Turkafinwë in their arms, showing him apparently a leaf from a tree. The maia was nice and was describing the leaf painstakingly in a soft voice: colour, form, how it grew and would die later.

Fëanáro was stuck being between furious the maia kidnapped his son without saying anything, and curious as to why the being thought his baby son, who wasn’t even of age to know how to talk, needed to know all about... A leaf.

Turkafinwë was sucking one of his fingers as he seemed to be watching the leaf with care, seemingly listening to the maia’s voice.

“Is our son truly listening or...?” Fëanáro couldn’t help but ask.

“He is. But it seems to be more to the sounds itself than the information that your child is paying attention to.” Yavanna answered amused.

“He is too young to pay attention to what is being actually said, I’m afraid.” Nerdanel told her.

“Why exactly did that maia think our son needs to know about a leaf?”

“You were sleeping, and he was waking up. You seemed tired. I thought it’d keep him busy and calm, so you could sleep. Was I mistaken?” The maia said gently, coming back to him with the child in his arms.

“Common courtesy would dictate that...” Fëanáro said, taking his son back in his arms, noting the child had a leaf firmly held in his hand. Probably one of the previously introduced leaves at that.

“Thank you. We appreciate it. Don’t pay attention to my husband, he was afraid our son disappeared.”

“In the Pastures?” The maia blinked, surprised that anyone at all would believe such a thing possible at all.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable fear when one wakes up to find his baby suddenly gone from their bed!” Fëanáro argued grumpily.

“I told you, love, you should have asked a maia. I’m pretty sure any of them could have told you where to find our son and who had him.” Nerdanel said amused, brushing gently the hair on her child’s head.

“He’s my son. I’d love to know why the assumption even exists that I’d be bothered by waking up if my son needs me.” Fëanáro answered tartly.

“It’s not that you’d be bothered, love. It’s that you never get much sleep and everyone can see you are tired and they are trying to be nice. So, be nice too. You can see that our child is fine.” Nerdanel told him firmly.

Fëanáro’s eyes darkened, and his lips turned downward in a grimace, but he added nothing, turning with his child in his arms to go back to where they left their belongings.

As they left, Fëanáro heard his wife tell the maia and Yavanna: “Please, forgive my husband, he’s over protective of our son right now. It’ll pass.”

Never. He thought when he heard that.

“That’ll never pass me, child of mine. Whenever you’ll need me I’ll be there for you love, and it’s not a maia or a meddling Vala that’ll stop me from being the father you deserve.” He whispered to his baby boy, who firmly grabbed a lock of his father’s hair, clearly uncaring of what was being said, but happy to be carried in his father’s arms. 

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When finally Nerdanel had enough of being in the Pasture of Yavanna, months later _ perhaps helped by seeing how out of patience Fëanáro was growing with the constant presence of the Maiar who were all very interested in the baby _ they prepared to leave.

Fëanáro wanted to go to the halls of Aulë, but Nerdanel wanted to see something in the woods of Oromë first.

For that reason, they planned to stop first in the Woods of Oromë, which was at a solid day of travel from them, two if Nerdanel didn’t find what she wanted on the edge of the woods, and then they planned to ride a bit along the edges of the gardens of Lórien, and then toward Valmar, which they would avoid with care if Fëanáro had any say in is, and they’d rejoin their preferred route to get to Aulë’s Halls.

That was, if no Maia found clever to steal his son again!

Was it a crime to put a maia on fire? It’s not like they could die from it, could they? And perhaps that’d teach the baby thieves a lesson they wouldn’t forget about asking the parents first before taking the baby from his crib just to show him whatever plant took the maia’s fancy this time around.

Fëanáro was quite sure his baby son had been shown about every possible plant in Yavanna’s domain by now.

“Far from it, no.” Came a voice from a nearby bush-thing.

“Keep. Your attention. Out of my mind.” Fëanáro said deeply out of patience.

“Fëanáro, focus instead of getting into an argument or we won’t be able to depart today.” Nerdanel intervened even as Makalaurë was looking up from his writing at his father and down at the bush... Being.

Fëanáro gave a side-eye to the bush but then turned back to his task, putting the family’s belongings in the cart and his horse’s saddlebags.

“Turkafinwë will ride on the cart, fair warning to you.” Nerdanel told him.

Fëanáro looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And?”

“And if you want to ride with him, you’ll have to take the cart. I, of course, graciously volunteer to ride your horse in your stead.”

“In other words, you’re already tired of the cart even though we haven’t started to go yet.” Fëanáro said amused.

“Quite. So?”

“If you get along with my horse, you deserve to ride it.”

“Excellent. I knew you’d agree.” She said smugly.

Fëanáro snorted at that.

A blind idiot would have known he’d agree. It was his baby!!! Of course that, if given the choice, he’d ride the cart with him in his arms.

Not to be blunt, but Turkafinwë started to crawl and found great delight in the world around him. Fëanáro didn’t trust him to stay peacefully in his bed on the cart, and he didn’t trust Makalaurë to keep an eye on his baby brother.

His delightful second son was far too easily distracted for that.

It was almost midday when they started on the road to leave the Pasture.

Makalaurë was looking like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep his baby brother in his arms or chat with his mother who was riding the horse next to the cart, or pick up one of his books or instruments or just look around... In short, he looked like he wasn’t sure where to put his attention the most.

That was, until Turkafinwë grabbed a strand of his hair and pulled, threatening to undo completely his brother’s braids:

“Ey, wait, no stop! Don’t pull my hair! I’ll pull yours too if you do!” Makalaurë reacted by reflex, pulling his hair back out of the baby’s hand.

Fëanáro snorted in amusement at that.

For one he could have told him that was going to happen, and for a second, he seemed to have forgotten both his parents were there and...:

“Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanárion, if I catch you pulling the hair of your baby brother, you won’t touch or see that harp of yours for a week minimum!” Nerdanel said.

... that. Exactly that. Nerdanel may have wanted to ride her horse instead of enjoying having her baby son in her arms, but she definitely wouldn’t let one of her child knowingly hurt the other, not when one was an innocent helpless being for now.

Makalaurë froze like a rabbit in front of a fox, and nodded swiftly, taking Turkafinwë and placing him in his father’s arms:

“Well, hi there, little treasure. Don’t pay attention to your mean older brother, he only abandoned you coldly...” Fëanor started, repositioning his baby son in his arms properly.

“I put him in your arms, I didn’t abandon him!” Makalaurë spluttered in protest.

“In the middle of the night.”

“It’s midday!”

“In the cold of winter!”

“Please, it’s as warm as ever! We’re not in the mountains!” Makalaurë protested.

“Under the rain...”

“The sky’s as clear as it can ever be...” Makalaurë sighed.

“But I will not abandon you as well, and I, contrary to your brother who acts like he never even met a baby in his life, know already to keep my hair firmly out of your reach, little love, yes, I do.”

“Ugh... Mom, dad speaks baby again!” Makalaurë said.

“Dear one, you’ll soon learn that your father will always speak like that to a baby in his arms. He even did it with his siblings at the time.”

“I. Did. Not!” Fëanáro protested firmly.

“I was there, and witnessed it. You. Did!” Nerdanel answered cheerfully.

“Lies and slander!” Fëanáro claimed.

“I... Will side with dad there. He’s never said anything nice about or to uncle Nolofinwë so far.” Makalaurë said cautiously even as Fëanáro looked smug at his son’s declaration.

“That you know of.” Nerdanel protested playfully.

“You can’t prove it!” Fëanáro teased his wife in return.

They travelled until the mingling of the trees, and stopped to rest the horses.

Fëanáro left his wife and Makalaurë in charge of seeing to the animals, and took care of little Turkafinwë who seemed very interested in something nearby.

Fëanáro put his son on the floor, curious to see what he’d do. Turkafinwë found himself in the soft grass, and suddenly he giggled, and raised on his hands and... Feet, which made Fëanáro laugh slightly at the position and just... Went fast, or baby fast at least, to the nearest bush, trying to get under.

Fëanáro frowned at that, and checked under the bush to see what might have interested the child.

And he found... a very unimpressed raccoon.

Fëanáro yelped and grabbed his son, alarmed, to pull him away, for once not caring much about the baby’s tears.

Sure, on Valinor most animals were friendly or at least didn’t pay attention to the elves around, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Or to tempt the moody raccoons, as the case may be. 

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They arrived in Oromë’s Woods a couple of hours after they started moving again in the morning. Nerdanel went further into the woods on her horse, looking for Fëanáro-didn’t-know-what and Fëanáro stayed on the edge with the children.

These woods were... Strange. Disquieting if Fëanáro was honest.

Nerdanel has been out of his line of sight far sooner than she should have been. The sky itself seemed... Muffled somehow. The light was eerily reflected around. Far more eerily than in any other forest he had visited.

And, while forests as a rule didn’t hold his love, he had no issue with them and would happily go travelling through one with his children, showing them animals and plants, teaching them to recognize stones they’d find on the way...

The only forest Fëanáro was happy to make a detour to avoid entirely was this one. Oromë’s own home.

Despite the fact that elves were generally quite welcome among the Valar and in their homes, Fëanáro was well aware that anything could happen... And somehow those woods freed those feelings of unease. Of... Not danger, really... But of something wild. Something that had no place among civilised people. Something... That brought impermanence and uncertainty of life in the forefront of his mind.

He didn’t like it.

And LESS OF ALL when he had his children with him.

To keep his hands busy while his wife was away, Fëanáro was trying to see if there were fruits he could pick up in the bushes and trees around the carts, to give a taste of it to Turkafinwë.

It was definitely easier to manage to find a variety of foods for his son to taste when they were home.

And yes, he had heard the ladies in waiting among his father’s councillors who were claiming it was better to give the children safe and bland food until they were older.

It was ridiculous.

He wanted his children to actually develop their sense of taste and bring them some curiosity as to the world around them, not to allow them to live close off, centred around themselves and what is comfortable to them. There was never any evolution when people were happy to stagnate in their comfort. Raising a child this way could only affect their evolution, he felt.

Fëanáro had left Turkafinwë sleeping on the cart that was never farther than two steps away from him, Makalaurë was... Apparently taken with the idea of climbing a tree, and he, himself, took a regular look at his children to make sure there were no mishaps.

While Turkafinwë was napping, he preferred to let him sleep properly. He’d find himself running after his child soon enough.

Fëanáro always found himself surprised at how high in energy babies really were.

However he had the impression that little Turkafinwë was far more active than his brothers had been.

That might just have been an impression due to the fact that in the Pastures of Yavanna, Maiar have kept trying to kidnap him but...

Fëanáro turned around to take a look at his sleeping son and found himself ready to cry.

Turkafinwë... Was not in his cart-bed.

He knew the child had started to crawl, but why? How? And mostly When and Where was he now?

“Makalaurë?!” Fëanáro called.

“Yes dad?”

“Did you see your brother?”

“My brother? Turko?”

“Yes Turko! Do you have another brother who’s a baby and gone from his crib?”

“Uh no, I haven’t seen him. Wasn’t he sleeping?”

“He was... and he isn’t anymore, clearly, or I wouldn’t have asked!”

“But... Don’t babies cry when they wake up?”

“Makalaurë, we have a child to find before something happens, not a game of questions!”

Makalaurë sighed but got down the tree and started to help Fëanáro to look around their cart and then farther away.

“I don’t suppose we can ask a maia’s help? Just... You know? Just in case?” Makalaurë asked when it was clear that the baby was gone.

“It’s them again!” Fëanáro declared grumpy.

“Dad?”

“Turkafinwë is a baby. He can’t possibly have gone that far in the few moments I took my eyes off of him. Hence something took him and I’m pretty sure that something is a meddling Maia. Again.”

“Uh... I... Suppose?!”

Fëanáro undid the harness holding the horse to the cart and turned toward Makalaurë:

“Guard the cart, do NOT leave the area! I’ll go get your mother and look for a meddling Power and I’ll be back.”

Fëanáro mounted the horse and left, galloping.

Makalaurë found himself alone with the cart... When he heard a faint giggle under a thorny bush.

“He didn’t...” Makalaurë whispered, shocked, before going to look cautiously under the thorny thing... To find his baby brother giggling, with what looked like a beetle in his hand.

“Only a few months old and already causing trouble! Dad is going to lose it. How did you even get there?!”

Makalaurë grabbed his baby brother and pulled him carefully out from under the thorny bush, trying to make sure that no thorn was going to hurt the baby.

He wasn’t stupid, his father would murder him if anything happened to his baby brother. He was oddly protective over him.

“You are Trouble!” Makalaurë decided on the spot, even as he was eyeing the beetle in his brother’s hand.

Strangely, the insect seemed neither bothered nor pained to be in a baby’s hand.

And Tyelkormo hadn’t tried to put it in his mouth and hadn’t yet crushed it accidentally, or let it go accidentally either.

Makalaurë’s eyed the baby suspiciously:

“You do know how to be gentle, you little pest! You already know not to pull hair! You do it on purpose! You hate me!” Makalaurë realised, looking absolutely outraged that the baby would dare.

A happy little giggle answered him at that.

When Fëanáro and Nerdanel came back, what felt like hours later but was probably much shorter if nothing else than on account of Fëanáro’s fretting, they were accompanied by a being perched on a gigantic horse, all white in colour save for golden hooves.

Turkafinwë was looking sleepy in his brother’s arms, but the sound of all the horses and of his parents talking anxiously with Oromë woke him up firmly.

Oromë had a faint smile when he saw the baby in the young elf’s arms:

“What do you have here, little one?”

“Bee!” Turkafinwë exclaimed happily.

Nerdanel and Fëanáro exchanged a shocked look:

“Is that his first word?” Nerdanel squeaked, on the verge of laughing.

“Bee? At least Nelyo and Laurë’s words were mom and dad!” Fëanáro said looking somewhere between shocked, offended and amused.

Oromë was looking at the insect in the baby’s hand.

“Not quite a bee, no. I’m afraid. That, little elf, is a beetle.”

“Where was he, Makalaurë?”

“You know the one bush we said he couldn’t have hidden under because it was thorny and surely the baby wouldn’t want to risk getting injured in the process?”

“... Yes?”

“There.”

Fëanáro sighed, a hand coming up to his face tiredly, shaking.

“How?!” Fëanáro squeaked.

“I have no idea. He’s fine while I scratched my arms just getting him out!” Makalaurë said, indignant!

“The forest seems to like your child. The bush might have moved on its own for the sake of your brother.” Oromë mused quietly amused.

“Bee!” Little Turkafinwë said, raising the hand with the beetle toward Oromë.

Oromë tilted his head to the side, and raised a hand, putting it under that of the baby who let the insect fall in the hand of the bigger being, with a toothless smile...

And raised both his hands... Toward the Vala’s head.

Oromë was startled into laughter at that.

“No little elf, if you want my antlers, you’ll have to hunt me for them.”

Tyelkormo cooed at the Vala who looked amused, and poked at him gently:

“One day, little one, you will have your chance, but that day isn't yet come.”

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Oromë hadn’t stayed with them for long, just long enough to make sure and confirm to the anxious parents that little Turkafinwë was fine.

Nerdanel had gotten exactly what she had been looking for, much to Fëanáro’s amusement, so now they were the proud owners, or at least the owners... of an owl skull, a fox skull and a raven skull. And why did she want those three, Fëanáro didn’t know and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.

They had then reattached the cart to the horse’s harness, and went back on their way, Turkafinwë firmly in his father’s arms.

He wouldn’t allow his eyes to wander off of this baby for a while. He could swear that Maitimo had been a calm and quiet baby.

And Makalaurë hadn’t been quiet, but he was certainly very calm, both happy to stay with their parents and be shown the world around.

Now Turkafinwë seemed very quiet in comparison, but he was certainly NOT calm.

“Perhaps we should stop at three children.” Fëanáro commented thoughtfully, his hand playing gently with the soft hair of his currently drowsy baby.

“Oh?” Nerdanel asked amused.

“Our first born was a perfect baby, calm and quiet, happy to look at the world through us. Our second born was perhaps calm but quiet has never been and apparently will never be in his vocabulary. Now our third born is certainly quieter than both his siblings have been at the same age so far, but he is also far more active. That leaves a chance for a fourth to be both loud AND overactive.”

Nerdanel started laughing at that:

“How about we leave our child the chance to grow up a bit, hm? Before we decide whether or not to give him siblings?”

“How about you don’t mention trying to make children in front of one of the children in question, who can both understand you and never want to consider his parents and sex. Please and thank you?” Makalaurë said with an exaggerated grimace of disgust, making both his parents laugh.

The journey was long. It took them weeks, during which they made frequent stops to rest, and allow little Turkafinwë to run around and play to his heart’s content. Now if only he could stop trying to run after every passing butterfly and hoppers in the grass, Fëanáro’s heart too would be content.

He had never met before a baby so fast while crawling. It was ridiculous!

When they arrived to Aulë’s Halls, Fëanáro was all too happy to introduce his son to his father-in-law in residence, and the Vala who taught him so much about forge work.

Mahtan was delighted to meet the little one, while Aulë’s reaction was... Curious.

It wasn’t the reaction he had had for Maitimo. His eldest son had been older when they met, and had been curious but also more interested in how Valarin worked than in the forge around him which... Granted had amused him a bit.

It wasn’t either the reaction he had had for Makalaurë. Makalaurë had been a baby still, at the time, and had been absolutely mesmerised by the noise made by crystal work. Aulë had delighted in picking the child up to show him some work from closer.

Now with Turkafinwë, Aulë was... More cautious... And he absolutely refused to touch the child for a reason that escaped Fëanáro.

He was hesitant to ask too. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But what if there was something wrong with his child? Though if there was, surely Yavanna and her posse of meddling maiar would have told them. Or Oromë.

Come to think of it, they had met far too many Powers and far too few elves so far in Turkafinwë’s life. They’d have to stop by the palace of Tirion to at least introduce the child to his grand-father. If they timed it right too, they could even arrive in Tirion just when Indis would be travelling to Valmar to see Ingwë as she did every year. That’d avoid them the chore of meeting her as well.

“My lord Aulë... We’ve introduced you to two of our children in the past and I’m wondering why... This time, you won’t approach our child.” Nerdanel asked.

Once again Fëanáro was reminded why he fell in love with his wife. Fearless, honest to a fault, and well able to confront absolutely anyone and take them to task for their behaviour, be them Vala or prince.

“That child belongs to the living world of Oromë and Yavanna, not to me.” Aulë said in a rumble.

“What do you mean by that?” Fëanáro asked.

“This little one’s Fëa isn’t attuned to me at all, in any way, shape or form. I have come to understand that little elves are more instinct than logical thought. I don’t wish to confront his instinct to something he’ll find distasteful. I do find it disturbing when a baby elf cries.”

“Surely not?” Fëanáro reacted, shocked at the idea.

Aulë shrugged and picked up the child to show the elf.

Turkafinwë’s face turned to cautiously unhappy at being inside the Forge with the heat and all the noise to unhappy to deeply unhappy in a few moments flat and before Aulë could even hold him properly, the child started to scream his discontent.

Fëanáro stole him right back from the Vala’s hands, looking bewildered, even as the child was screaming and screaming.

Back in his father’s arms, the child started to calm down, and grabbed a tightly woven braid of his fathers, and pulled.

“Turkafinwë, enough of this tantrum.”

“Bee!” The child said crying.

Nerdanel turned toward them with concern, and took her son in her arms.

“Is that his first word?” Mahtan asked them curious.

“Technically yes, but it’s the second time he said it. We made a stop in Oromë’s Wood before coming...” Fëanáro answered.

“I needed to find perfectly preserved skulls.” Nerdanel explained, trying to get her child to stop crying.

“Take him outside on the grass. He’ll calm down there.” Aulë rumbled.

Nerdanel raised an eyebrow at that, and did just that, Mahtan going after her.

Indeed, when she put Turkafinwë on the grass near the entrance of the Forges, the child finally stopped crying and...

Mahtan laughed seeing him grab a handful of grass and coo at it. 

“Do you know what Aulë meant earlier? Why my son reacted like that to Aulë?”

“As I understand it, children are creatures of instinct, more attuned with the music of the world around them until they start to make sense of our actual world. Had your husband met Aulë at the age of this little one, he’d have probably laughed joyfully in the arms of Aulë, because what brings him joy the most... Is the domain of Aulë. It’s in his Song.”

“So our son will never be happy in a Forge or workshop. Not like we are.”

“Basically. But neither would Maitimo or Makalaurë. They could work in a forge, but they wouldn’t be as easily successful at it as someone like their father. They could work in a workshop like yours, but again, none of your children would be as easily successful in it as you are. It’s just not who they are.”

“Tyelkormo was happy in Oromë’s company. Oromë practically promised they’d see each other again.” Nerdanel said softly.

“Valinor isn’t that big, it’s a guarantee that they’ll meet again.” Mahtan snorted.

“Hm... Perhaps...” Nerdanel wasn’t quite convinced, but neither was she quite convinced that Makalaurë’s choice to give priority to music was the right one, and neither was she convinced that politics was really making Maitimo happy.

Her children were destined to make her doubt. 

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Staying in Aulë’s Halls while juggling a child who was musically inclined and bothered by the noise of the Forge and a baby who clearly couldn’t stop crying when in close proximity to Aulë or his maiar was an exercise in patience and both Fëanáro and Nerdanel decided fast to go back home instead of staying.

Sure, the tools available in Aulë’s Halls were the best they’d ever find.

Sure, the conversations and studies led in Aulë’s Halls were more inspiring than discussing briefly with fellow artists in their own home.

However, the children were clearly not made to stay there and it was making staying there ridiculously difficult, even with the invaluable help of Mahtan, and Maitimo was still alone in the palace and hasn’t spent any time with his baby brother yet.

So Nerdanel and Fëanáro took the decision, a few days after their arrival, to leave again Aulë’s Halls and travel back home, making a detour by the palace of Tirion.

Finwë welcomed them with open arms when they arrived.

And he was alone.

Finwë embraced his son when he arrived toward them...:

“Indis left just yesterday for Valmar. She’ll be sad to know she missed you and this little one.” Finwë told Fëanáro when they arrived, before he turned toward Nerdanel who was carrying Tyelkormo and took the baby from her arms.

Nerdanel strongly disliked Finwë’s manners in that.

He could at least have ASKED her if he could take the child. But no, he straight up came and picked up the baby.

If Fëanáro didn’t love him that much that he feared growing estranged from his father, she’d tell him exactly what she thought of that. Alas, she needed to stay tactful for the sake of her husband.

She kept a bland, polite smile on her face until a tale-tell scent reached her nose:

“I apologise king Finwë, but I need to take my son back, I think he needs changing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can do it myself, I do have children of my own, my dear.”

“Yes but...”

Nerdanel sighed when Finwë just turned and left.

“I know.” Fëanáro told her.

“If he takes any of my sons from my arms again without asking, next dirty nappy I get my hand on will end in his face.” She hissed.

Fëanáro grimaced at that. His father wasn’t always the most... Diplomatic of elves.

Having said that, Nerdanel grabbed her bag of baby supplies and followed after the king, letting a servant lead her to the king’s personal room on palace grounds.

By now Tyelkormo had more than enough to be dirty and was expressing it clearly.

Really if Finwë had let her take care of her child, he would already be clean and changed into proper clean clothing. It was ridiculous!

She nevertheless entered the room, with the supply:

“Perhaps I could...”

“No, no, let me. I’m sure this little one doesn’t mind. It’s a little bit of bounding time.”

Nerdanel took a deep breath but with a smile that was, she felt, extremely unconvincing, she brought forward the clean nappy and tissue to clean the child.

Finwë had already had servants bring warm water to his room, and so he installed the child on the table to change him and clean him.

To his credit, he was quick and skilled in changing and cleaning the child, however, he placed the dirty nappy at arm’s length of the unhappy baby Tyelkormo and Nerdanel knew for a fact her son knew how to throw things to express his displeasure...

She said nothing, unsure whether to hope that Finwë would get an abject lesson on asking the mothers before taking the babies from them, or hoping her child would prove calm for once.

She had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing when invariably Tyelkormo’s hand found the dirty nappy and he just pushed it with surprising strength for a baby on his grand-father.

Finwë froze, shocked, as the nappy _ not close as securely as Nerdanel would have closed it _ opened as it hit him and he found himself with a robe of silk and gold embroidery... covered in baby poo.

“Perhaps I should...” Nerdanel started after a moment of silently focusing on not laughing.

“Take the child back while I go and change, please.” Finwë completed for her.

“Yes.”

Finwë went to his room, grumbling and Nerdanel was fast to finish clothing her child, leaving the rooms to get back to her husband and older children.

Once she joined them... She put her child in Fëanáro’s arms and started laughing uncontrollably:

“Dare I ask?”

Nerdanel tried to get her laughter under control before she answered:

“You know how our delightful little one has taken up the habit of throwing things to express his displeasure.”

“Oh... I have a feeling as to where that is going.” Fëanáro commented vaguely amused.

“Your father left the dirty nappy at your son’s arm’s length.” Nerdanel cackled.

“Oh dear...” Fëanáro was biting his lips at that.

At least his father didn’t get a dirty nappy in the face from his angry wife? Turkafinwë was a baby and couldn’t be held responsible for it surely.

When Finwë joined them again in the family’s living-room, he was changed into another set of robes.

Maitimo and Makalaurë were both very quiet about their amusement and Nerdanel was back to being very diplomatic about her feelings on the matter.

“This child has quite the strength for his age.” Finwë commented.

“Yes. I called him Turkafinwë. His mother name is Tyelkormo.”

“Hm... He’s cute. How long will you stay at the palace?”

“Oh not long, we just wanted to introduce you to your new grand-son and see if we could take Nelyo back home for a while. He barely could meet his own baby brother.” Fëanáro answered.

Nerdanel couldn’t help but notice that this time, Finwë didn’t even try to approach Tyelkormo. Good.

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They only stayed at the palace a couple of days, during which Finwë hadn’t taken Turkafinwë back in his arms, and hadn’t really looked at him either. It had saddened her husband, but Nerdanel thought it better this way.

Going back home was only a matter of a couple of hours from the palace, and Turkafinwë was in Maitimo’s arms all the way there.

Her eldest son had his hair in tight braids out of the way of potential curious baby hands, and Makalaurë was riding his brother’s horse.

“Relieve me of a doubt... The baby’s room wasn’t exactly ready when we left home, right... ?” Maitimo commented suddenly.

Nerdanel and Fëanáro exchanged a look at that.

“We might have left in somewhat of a hurry.” Fëanáro commented.

“I needed to go in order to fulfil that order!” Nerdanel told him.

“So no, the baby room wasn’t exactly ready. But I think we already put the crib in the room. It was Makalaurë’s old one, I think. If not, I’ll go look for it quickly while you boys take care of your brother.” Fëanáro completed.

Maitimo nodded, and upon their arrival, he let his mother see with their seneschal and stable hands for the care of the horse and of their belongings, and pulled his brother inside the house, carrying little Turkafinwë.

“How was the palace?”

“... Interesting?”

“That’s a question or an affirmation?”

“Grand-father’s been trying to introduce me to girls he finds appropriate.” Maitimo grumbled unhappily.

“Ew.” Makalaurë grimaced.

“See? I was there to work but no! He absolutely wanted me to be sociable and meet the daughter of this and that courtier and to have my opinion on them!”

“Dare I ask what you told him?”

“That I liked the flower arrangement for the ball room better than the company of those girls.”

Makalaurë was laughing hysterically when Fëanáro came to find them.

“Dare I ask?”

“You probably don’t want to know.” Maitimo answered him.

“Right. I’m stealing your baby brother.”

“The one laughing madly or the nice one?”

“Nelyo...”

“Oh fine, deprive me of the company of my peaceful baby brother.”

“He’s not peaceful. And he hates me.” Makalaurë said dramatically.

“Gross exaggeration love, your brother is a baby, he doesn’t hate anyone yet.” Fëanáro said amused, taking Turkafinwë in his arms before leaving the room.

“He does! That baby is evil! He was nicer to random bugs than to me! His own brother!” Makalaurë insisted in a whisper.

And Makalaurë started to narrate for his elder brother some of their baby brother’s exploits, making him laugh uproariously, even as Nerdanel and Fëanáro were busy getting Turkafinwë’s room in order. 

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Years passing, punctuated by a number of travels throughout Valinor and by a number of grand projects from Fëanáro and Nerdanel, Makalaurë and Celegorm himself, proved correct Aulë’s assessment of young Turkafinwë, indeed the child grew into a teenager and then an adult elf who hated more than anything to work with his father in the forge and barely tolerated to work with his mother in her workshop.

He felt no interest for the arts of politics either and music was just a passing fancy. He liked drawing, but what held his love in truth was the outside, and the Hunt.

The freedom of being out there.

The joy of learning to understand and talk to every animal he could see.

The unrestrained wildness of running with Oromë’s Hunt.

The comradeship he found with his fellow Hunters.

The pride of having Oromë’s friendship.

The adoration he had and shared with Huan...

The mean humour he felt when someone came into the Woods unprompted, uninvited and without warning and got lost only to find there the terror of their lives.

Forests in Valinor could be places of unique joy and welcome.

Forests in Valinor could be fun to wander in.

Forests in Valinor could be utterly safe and boring.

But that was NOT Oromë’s Woods.

No. Oromë’s Woods was freedom but also darkness. It was life but also death. It was fun, but also fear. It was a forest... But also not. It was quiet and yet loud. It was chaos. It was timeless. It was a place of wonder.... And screwed with people like no other place in Valinor ever did.

And it was there that Tyelkormo felt the most welcome and natural. Deep within the shadows of the home of Oromë.

Oromë’s Woods were his home. Were the place where his heart lied.

But Tyelkormo also adored his family, and so he shared his life between his two homes. Between the Woods, and his family.

And the family grew.

From three siblings, they grew to four, then five, then seven.

Much to his dismay he found himself babysitting his little siblings whenever he was available. It wasn’t always a success.

Carnistir always had a way to make him feel stupid, starting in his teenager years.

He knew he wasn’t but damn, that kid could still make him feel like he was missing something more often than not.

Then Curufinwë had come and they had... nothing in common. When the child had been introduced to Aulë, the child had laughed joyously, and from the moment he knew how to talk, Curufinwë was asking questions: ‘how does that work?’, ‘where does that come from?’ ‘Why?’ ‘What’s that?’...

Their mother named him in truth Atarinkë, little father, indeed. His baby brother delighted with everything Fëanáro crafted for him. And mostly delighted in trying to take them apart and to try to put them back properly.

And the twins... Tyelkormo’s biggest success was introducing them to the outdoors and the joy of hunting.

They didn’t feel quite the same thing he felt for it.

They didn’t speak the animals’ languages so they couldn’t hear the terrified pleas of the animals that spotted them. Couldn’t hear their last words. Didn’t feel the act of hunting as viscerally as he himself did.

But nevertheless, they were soon good hunters, and enjoyed the outdoors far more than being indoor. Thankfully.

And then Curufinwë fell in love.

The girl was only a dainty thing if seen from afar, in the dark, while drunk. She was a spitfire, far more than his own mother, she loved to invent practical things. She also loved to absolutely put in their place the people that annoyed or challenged her.

One of those instances had led Curufinwë to meet her fiery temper from up close and personal and he had fallen in love on the spot.

Much to Tyelkormo’s despair at the time.

If there was ONE thing he refused to hear about, it was his brother’s dreams about married life or sex life.

There were things too terrible to contemplate out there.

His siblings being sexual beings was one of those things.

The marriage, in time, was lovely.

The confidences from his brother after the wedding nights were far less appreciated.

Tyelkormo could swear Huan found it hilarious and was still laughing at him for that.

When one year later his nephew was born, he was the first one, after Curufinwë and his father, to hold the child.

He was adorable. Less adorable, he proved to be a child more active than his father had been!

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Telperinquar was not quite one year old when the family went back on the road. Nerdanel had been talking about Aulë’s Halls for a while, and that seemed to have given Curufinwë and his wife the desire to go there.

So they went, Fëanáro, Nerdanel, Curufinwë, his wife Anwindë, their son Telperinquar, Carnistir, the twins, Tyelkormo and Huan.

Telperinquar was lively and keeping him safe on the cart was an exercise in patience and fast reflexes. Tyelkormo could swear that taking his eyes off the child for one moment was long enough for an accident to happen. Alas, being on Valinor didn’t prevent that sort of thing from happening.

As they stopped for a night break in their travel, and to let the horses rest, Tyelkormo went into the forest along the road, to find something to eat that was fresher than travel bread.  It was strangely easy to catch a prey in this forest. It took away all the interest of hunting, so Tyelkormo didn’t even try.

The forests of Valinor, outside of Oromë’s Woods, were... Safe. Clean looking. The animals were friendly enough that just being calm, one could stand nearby and observe them. Hunting was not a true exercise around here. It was a massacre of innocent animals with barely a survival instinct.

He was just coming back with a basket full of berries, a bag full of nuts and a contented Huan when he was jumped on by his brother: “haveyouseenmyson?”

Tyelkormo blinked, taking the time to understand this sentence:

“Last I saw him was in your arms so...”

“NothelpingTyelko!”

“Alright, alright, it’s a child, he can’t be too far gone. Come on, let’s go back to the cart, Huan and I will look for my nephew.”

Tyelkormo was calm, compared to his brother. Certainly, it wasn’t his child that disappeared, so that helped, but also he was well aware that in this forest, the most that could happen would be the child getting lost for a few hours.

Once at the cart, he found his parents looking tired, Anwindë crying her heart out, Carnistir was looking around and the twins had... Disappeared.

“The twins are gone to look for Telpe!” Nerdanel told them.

“And I’ll join the search. The kid can’t have gone far.”

And he, for one, had the advantage over the twins of having Huan AND of being able to chat with every passing animal to ask for direction or listen to terribly distorted rumours.

Some animals were terrible gossips.

“Don’t worry, your brother will find your son.” Nerdanel told Curufinwë, even as Tyelkormo turned to follow Huan who was already tracking the child by scent.

Clever, dependable Huan. Perhaps he should assign him to watch the child on this journey.

“He’s my son and he’s lost, how can I not worry?!”

“Every child needs a bit of rebellion, my dear, it’s healthy for them, or so I’m told.” Fëanáro told him with a comforting pat on his arm.

Tyelkormo snorted softly at that: without turning back he could imagine very well the unimpressed stressed out face his brother would be making.

“Tyelko will find Tyelpe, and he’ll be fine.” Fëanáro’s voice rose again.

Well, that was certainly good to know he had his father’s trust on that point.

“How do you know?” Curufinwë asked, quietly hopeful.

Well, that was flattering, brother...

“I know because I share a bound to all my children, the same way you share a bound to your child and you would KNOW if he was hurt or in trouble. So long your child isn’t in trouble, your brother and his dog will find him, and so he’ll be fine.”

Tyelkormo nodded at that, following Huan, noticing the traces of the child’s passing in the bushes, and soft steps on the moss and mud of the floor.

Huan had his nose on the floor and was leading Tyelkormo to... Telperinquar, not quite a one year old baby, trying to climb a tree...

Illuvatar on high! Was he that bad as a child? Curufinwë had certainly not been that adventurous!

He only needed a few steps to be next to his nephew and grab him before he could get anywhere:

“Uncle Tyelko! There are squirrels!”

“Yes, and we’ll leave the squirrels in peace.”

The child pouted at that: “But they’re pretty.”

“They’re not toys even if they’re pretty, leave them in peace.”

Tyelkormo made the mistake of looking at his nephew, who was looking at him pleadingly, eyes full of tears.

He sighed at that, even as Huan snorted, amused, and laid down on the floor at his feet.

“Fine.”

Tyelkormo looked up and asked the squirrels if they were willing to come down to be petted by the child, gently, he promised.

He eyed the child in question and sighed. Well, it would be easier said than done as Telperinquar was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“If they come, you must be gentle. If you’re not gentle, I’ll take the squirrels back, and I’ll never again call one for you!”

Telperinquar nodded seriously, taking his uncle’s words more seriously than any of his little brothers ever did.

Little nephews are the best.

The squirrels were seemingly uninterested.

“I have nuts?” Tyelkormo offered the squirrels, hopeful, taking a couple of nuts from his side pouch, raising his hand with them as an offering.

The squirrels just ignored him, but for one that climbed down to Tyelkormo’s raised hand, and let himself be lowered down to the level of the child, eating the nuts.

Huan was looking far too amused for Tyelkormo’s tastes, but he chose to pretend to not notice his companion.

“Can I touch it?” Telperinquar whispered.

Tyelkormo looked particularly amused at that: with their discussion that had been at full voice volume, now the child was whispering?!

“Certainly. BUT you must be gentle, careful, delicate.”

The child nodded and raised a hand to the squirrel.

And the animal was patient, and let the child’s untrained hands pet it for a few moments, until Ambarussa arrived.

The squirrel jumped on the tree in alarm and ran back up to a higher branch and Tyelkormo turned toward his brothers:

“You only arrive now? I’m disappointed.”

“Hey! You cheated! You have Huan!”

“Little brothers... This is a not even one year old child. Don’t try to tell me he didn’t leave tracks a blind hunter could follow. It’s a clear area, it’s not Oromë’s Woods with its own tricks. So... How could you not find his tracks sooner?”

The twins grumbled at that.

“Perhaps but at least we warned Curufinwë that Telperinquar’s with you.”

Tyelkormo winced at that.

“That... Is certainly a point.”

“Come on, Telperinquar, let’s get you back to your dad.” One of the twins said with a smile, offering a hand to his nephew.

However, Telperinquar glared at him and hid himself in Tyelkormo’s legs.

“Ah! I knew I was the favourite uncle!” Tyelkormo said smugly, taking the child in his arms to carry him back to camp, walking happily through the clear, simple forest, to their camp a couple of minutes away only.

Honestly, how his brothers and parents had not noticed them talking so close to the cart was a mystery to Tyelkormo.

“Child delivery!”

“A bit late, the delivery!” Curufinwë commented coldly.

“... Not that much? Besides, what were you afraid of? The risks around here are minimal. There are very few predators and none of them hunt elves willingly. The closest cliffs and caves are kilometres away, and your kid isn’t yet old enough to get anywhere truly far on his own, we’d have heard him if he had cried for any reason at any point.”

Curufinwë grumbled at that and picked his son from his brother’s arms.

Brothers were the worst!

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While his brother, sister-in-law and parents were in Aulë’s Hall doing he didn’t want to know what, Tyelkormo was taking care of little Telperinquar. The twins were enjoying hunting for the family.

Tyelkormo took little Telperinquar every day or so to the nearby woods. The place was nice and safe, perfect to teach Telperinquar some appreciation for the wildlife and some much needed appreciation for things that had nothing to do with a forge.

Curufinwë would murder him in his sleep if little Telperinquar learnt to love the outside more than the forge...

Telperinquar was happy to run around in the woods with Huan and his uncle.

“What’s that?” The child asked his uncle every time he met something new.

What Tyelkormo loved in these moments was that the questions touched plants as well as animals of all sorts.

“Uncle...?” The child called one day.

“Yes kid?”

“Are there animals that live only at night?”

Tyelkormo chuckled at that question.

“There are indeed, though I’m unsure at what species are most likely to roam around here. Why?”

“I wanna see them.”

“I’m not sure your parents will appreciate that, kiddo.”

Tyelkormo almost cackled when Telperinquar made a face that his father often made too. The stubborn frown that said that things would go his way ‘or else’.

And indeed that evening, when the family gathered again, the child went straight to his father:

“I wanna see the animals that live in Telperion’s light.” He said.

Curufinwë raised an eyebrow at that and looked at his brother:

“Dare I ask?”

“Natural curiosity, brother dear. Your kid is just one, you were exactly the same at that age.” Tyelkormo answered amused.

He could know, he was the one who used to babysit Curufinwë the most often.

“But... At night...”

“It’s not like there’s danger around, brother.”

“Because it’s Valinor?” Curufinwë asked with a derisive snort.

“No brother. I can say there’s no danger around because I’ve been around quite a lot recently and I can prove what I say. The nearest cliff is well away or so far underground as to be of no consequence, Aulë’s workshop is well protected, Oromë’s Woods are out of the way far down south with all its tricks and traps, and the dark creatures that sometimes appear, do so generally around the Avarthar, so quite a distance away. Huan is actually the most dangerous being around and he’s a big ball of fluff. Unless Manwë and Yavanna get into a spat and we get a storm that destroys trees, we’ll be quite safe outside.”

“That doesn’t actually happen.” Aulë’s voice said from deep within the Forge.

Fëanáro frowned at that clear breach of privacy, but said nothing, while Tyelkormo chuckled, used to the presence of the Valar in every corner of their respective domains.

“I’m aware, lord Aulë, hence why I said earlier that there are no dangers around.” Tyelkormo answered cheerfully.

“Not alone.” Curufinwë decided.

“Family outing?” Tyelkormo offered.

“No thank you.” Nerdanel decided.

“We’d go.” Ambarussa commented.

“Great, three kids for company.” Tyelkormo said teasingly.

“You mean that Huan will have 4 kids to babysit?” Fëanáro said with a teasing voice.

“Because you’re so ancient, dad...” Tyelkormo answered with a snort of amusement.

“Respect your elders, darling son of mine.” Fëanáro answered with a smile.

“I only respect those elders who don’t explode themselves at their own workshops.” Tyelkormo answered flatly.

“It was...”

Nerdanel raised an eyebrow next to her husband, looking at him warningly.

“A calculated risk. I might have made a slight... Inconsequential mathematical mistake in the process.” Fëanáro said a bit cautiously, looking pointedly not toward his beloved wife.

Nerdanel rolled her eyes at that even as Anwindë was trying to muffle her laughter.

“A very understandable mistake.” Curufinwë nodded the most seriously ever.

Tyelkormo had the vague but persistent feeling that his brother had been right there with their father and as interested in the result of that famous experiment as their father had been.

Carnistir nearby was looking less than impressed. Exactly what Tyelkormo felt.

“Daddy!” Little Telperinquar said with a whine.

“Alright, fine. You can go with your uncle.”

“Tonight?”

“Only if you take an early nap.”

Telperinquar was in bed before his father could finish his sentence. Tyelkormo looked amused at that.

“Bribery?”

“Whatever works to avoid a cranky tired child tomorrow.”

“That’s fair.”

When Laurelin’s rays started to mix with Telperion’s softer glow, Tyelkormo went to get Telperinquar who looked awake and well aware upon the door opening.

The fair elf snorted in amusement and resolved to not tell his brother that. He refused to deal with a cranky child deprived of something he wanted AND with a cranky brother unhappy at his child’s clear tricks.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes uncle!”

Tyelkormo shook his head in amusement. The child was precious. He picked him up, and carried him out, picking up the bag of food his sister-in-law prepared. He had yet to figure out whether to take offence or not at her lack of trust in his abilities to feed his little nephew but a more important _and fun_ task was ahead: He needed to spend the night with the child outside. 

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The twins went with them, and they started to prepare the camp, and Telperinquar’s bed just in case, while Tyelkormo sat with his nephew:

“So, while we’re out there, let’s see if you remember what you need to do if you get lost in a forest and don’t find your way out.”

“I stay in place as long as I can do so safely, and if I have to move, I look for water, and then shelter. Food can wait.” The child recited.

“Very good.”

“And I shouldn’t just scream a lot because sometimes in Oromë’s Woods, it’ll attract big animals that eat elves.” Telperinquar said.

“Hm...”

“But uh... I can otherwise scream a lot for help, if I’m not in there. And I won’t ever be in there cause dad said not to go.”

“I mean, he’s got a point. It’s not like our brothers and parents ever bother to visit the Woods.” One of the twins commented.

“Nevertheless, it’s a good tip to have. Just in case.”

“Also if I’m lost with Huan, then I’m not lost and I need to trust Huan and stay with him. That’s what grand-pa said.”

“Is it me or does dad trust your dog more than he trusts us?” Ambarussa asked deadpan.

Tyelkormo chucked at that.

“Alright, now, let’s build a shelter and light a fire, shall we?”

“Do we really need to? It’s not like...”

“Oh please!” Telperinquar asked excitedly.

Tyelkormo looked at his brothers with an amused smile and a raised eyebrow:

“I don’t know, do we?”

“You’re spoiling that child.”

“Yes, which is why I’m the favourite uncle.” Tyelkormo said smugly.

Ambarto started to collect wood to start a fire but said:

“These woods are terribly clean. I’m afraid the fire won’t last very long unless we want to actually cut a tree and I’m not very happy to try that in the woods near Aulë’s Halls of all places. Pretty sure the only worse thing to do would be to try that in Yavanna’s Pastures directly: Yavanna would most likely murder us for that crime.”

“We don’t need the fire to last long, brother dear.”

“Oh?”

“That’s not really the point of our presence, is it? This will just be a fun little activity while we wait.”

Ambarussa tilted his head to the side, exchanging a look with his twin.

“You did something.” The twins realised at the same time.

Tyelkormo smirked and pulled a finger to his lips, asking them to keep the secret.

The twins showed Telperinquar, sitting in Tyelkormo’s laps, how to light a fire, and promised to teach him to do that when he’d be older.

Which Tyelkormo understood as: ‘When our brother would be less likely to murder us for that.’

Soon enough, an owl flew by, and perched itself on a nearby tree.

“Look up.” Tyelkormo whispered quietly for the child who looked awed at the imposing bird.

“What does it eat?”

The eternal temptation to answer with: ‘Misbehaving children’ took him... However...

“What they can find: insects, rodents, reptiles like snakes and amphibians like frogs, smaller birds.”

“Can I pet it?”

Tyelkormo shook his head.

“No, not that one. He’s beautiful but very distant, just let it be, hm?”

Telperinquar looked mildly disappointed, but Tyelkormo was pretty sure their next visitor would more than make up for that.

Indeed, the next animal they saw was a chinchilla that climbed straight on to Tyelkormo’s shoulder:

“Well, hello little one, and welcome.” Tyelkormo told the animal.

“Can I pet it?” Telperinquar asked with baited breath.

Thankfully, the answer to that was a cautious yes, so long the child was careful. And when the animal had enough, it climbed right back on Tyelkormo’s shoulder, eating the treats that the elf offered it.

A bit later came a couple of hedgehogs.

“Oh! Uncle look! They look... Prickly.” Telperinquar said in a loud whisper, approaching the small creatures.

Tyelkormo chuckled at that.

“They are, but they’re very cute, and they’re a necessary part of the natural world.”

The child nodded along quietly.

Later in the night, Telperinquar fell asleep curled up against Tyelkormo’s side, bringing his thumb to his mouth in a very sleepy gesture.

Only then did a magnificent and glowing horse arrive, bearing on his back a being that exuded power.

Oromë tilted his head to the side, watching Tyelkormo with the child.

“He doesn’t look much like you.”

“He wouldn’t. He’s my nephew, not my child.”

“No, not physically, physically you lot all look alike somewhat. No. His Fëa. He resembles his father and grand-father more than you.”

“Ah. That.”

Tyelkormo shook his head.

“Most likely he’ll be another great inventor. He laughs in Aulë’s arms and keeps trying to borrow his parents’ tools and is obsessed with metal.”

“Then why this?”

“Children are curious by nature. All of us born instead of created, need to learn. And in the process, we get curious about a variety of things. Things that, most of the time, won’t fascinate us later on. At his age I was constantly underfoot with our father. Went to the forge every day I could, made quite a number of messes in dad’s office, and look at me today. You couldn’t pay me enough to spend one hour in there.” Tyelkormo answered with a smile.

“I see. Which of your little friends did he like the most?”

“I think my brand new shoulder ornament remained the favourite through the night.”

“Hm... Yes, Telperinquar kept going back to it, didn’t he?” Ambarussa said with a thoughtful tilt of the head.

“And do you plan to keep that little chinchilla?”

“No. He’ll leave soon.”

The Vala tilted his head to the side, and Tyelkormo soon imitated Him.

“Shall I go?”

“No. I’ll take care of it. Stay with your family.”

The Vala went, Nahar galloping away, a Hunt forming in his wake, maiar, hounds, they were soon out of sight.

“Dare I ask?”

“Hm... A bear with a nasty temper in the mountains apparently.”

“I have no idea how you do that.”

“Do what? It’s all information that lord Oromë is spreading among the Hunt. I only listen to his information.”

The twins sighed at that.

They spent the night there and spent so long waiting for little Telperinquar the next morning that Curufinwë came to find them, led by a maia of Aulë.

The elf looked at his siblings with a judgemental look:

“Hi brother.”

“You’re late.”

“I don’t recall setting an hour for us to come back. Telperinquar fell asleep near the middle of Telperion’s hours, and we decided to let him sleep.”

Seeing the state of the place, Curufinwë raised an eyebrow.

“You made a fire? Was it that cold?”

“It was more for the entertainment value.”

“Hm... Did he have fun?”

“Yes.”

Curufinwë turned toward the twins:

“Were all the animals reasonably appropriate?”

“All in all we met an owl, hedgehogs, a chinchilla that played at being tamed for a while, a few rats, a racoon and a fox.”

“All right then.”

Curufinwë sat with them. When Telperinquar awoke, he went happily to his father to be carried, and told him all about the animals and the fire, and the noises of the forest at night and his dream where a rider came on a glowing horse.

Tyelkormo grimaced at that.

“We had Oromë’s visit briefly.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Because he wondered why a child that was so clearly inclined toward Aulë was visiting with animals with the guidance of one of his Hunters.” The twins answered.

“There’s nothing mysterious in that, it’s just natural curiosity. I think all of us younger than Tyelko did the same at some point or another.” Curufinwë pointed out.

“And yet lord Oromë only asked now.”

They went back home to find Fëanáro working on the kitchen table.

“Ah, mom is very busy today then.” Tyelkormo said with a laugh, knowing the small ‘war’ his parents made to each other over Fëanáro’s habit to work everywhere, including in the kitchen and Nerdanel’s desire to keep her kitchen clean of working tools, grease and whatnot.

“Not even. She broke her favourite necklace and asked me to repair it. The light is great in this room.”

“Hm...”

Telperinquar ran to his grand-father, and climbed on his laps, just like that, forgetting all about the night out, observing curiously what the elf was doing with the necklace.

Tyelkormo smiled. His father had moved to accommodate the child and had dropped a set of _oversized_ jeweller glasses on his head.

He looked at the room’s window, toward the forest.

One day he’d teach Telperinquar how to build a proper shelter too. And he’d always be available to teach him more about the forest, plants and animals alike whenever he’d ask, but the child was back in his favourite element.

He, on the other hand, was starting to severely miss Oromë’s Woods and the Hunt. He’d soon join them again.

Forests out there were peaceful. But Oromë’s Woods was both fun and interesting, and it was there that he belonged. 

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