Child of the Woods by Aprilertuile

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Chapter 9: In Aulë’s halls

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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.