A private talk in the light of Telperion by Aprilertuile  

The celebration was going well, the hunt had been a resounding success. Tyelkormo was sitting on the side of the group, alone, enjoying the music, Huan was with Oromë’s own Hounds, having their own little feast.

Tyelkormo was holding in his hand still his first drink of the night, despite the fact that already half the night had come and gone, and most of the hunters around him were very much intoxicated.

“Not feeling like celebrating?” Tilion asked him, letting himself fall on the floor next to Celegorm, sitting cross-legged with that unnatural grace the maiar all seemed to have.

“I’m enjoying myself well enough here.” Tyelkormo answered.

“You’re not drinking, you gave a solid half of your food to Huan and the other hounds, and you’re not dancing.” Tilion enumerated drily.

“I kept part of the heart for myself.”

“In a celebration of a hunt where you were the best of the elves, you kept a piece of the beast’s heart for yourself and gave everything else away. That is not what I call celebrating.”

“I’m... Thinking.”

“Not good thoughts it looks like.” The maia commented.

“Neither good nor bad, I think. Just... Thoughts.”

“Want to get away for a bit?”

“Depends, are you going to forget me somewhere when you come back?” Tyelkormo answered, teasing Tilion.

“That happened only once!” Tilion grumbled.

“Once when you left me stuck in a giant eagle nest, with no way to get back down on my own. As I recall, the eagle wasn't amused.” Tyelkormo pointed out.

“I did apologize for this. Besides, I’m taking you to Ezellohar, not to the eagles!” Tilion huffed, looking mildly offended, making Tyelkormo laugh slightly.

“Alright then, why not?”

Tilion took Tyelkormo’s hand and moments later, they were near the two trees.

The journey wasn’t instantaneous but to an elf, it seemed effortless and quick enough as to make no difference.

Telperion’s light was bathing the clearing with a lovely silver shade, Laurelin’s own light shining almost unnoticeably under the closed leaves.

Away from the drums of the celebrations, and the very crowded cheerful and drunk company, Tyelkormo started to relax, well aware that Tilion was keeping a close eye on him.

“Do you want to share those thoughts of yours or do you prefer to hear me sing the praises of Telperion?”

“Sing away, my friend, far be it from me to stop you from voicing your adoration to your favourite tree.” Tyelkormo answered amused, sitting cross-legged on the green grass of the hill.

And ‘singing’ in this case, was literal. Tyelkormo was enjoying the song and the maia’s voice. Tilion was singing in Valarin, which Tyelkormo had learnt without telling his father.

Atop the hill Ezellohar

Sat the twins trees of light

The older is Telperion

To him my heart is fairly gone,

He is a sight to lift the heart,

A song-inspiring silver hue,

The beauty of a work of art,

Crying a rain of silver dew,

Elder tree who lights the world

Majestic like no other,

By time and ills, left untroubled,

Gifting us nights of wonder,

Tyelkormo snorted as he let himself fall on his back. He suspected Tilion to be able to sing for hours if left unchecked.

Tilion turned toward him with a pout on his face at the younger elf’s reaction:

“You don’t like my song.”

“I like it, worry not.”

“You should sing with me then.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no. The singer in the family is Makalaurë. You don’t want to hear my croaking!”

“You sing our lord’s praises well enough, for an elf.”

Tyelkormo snorted in amusement as he heard Tilion’s answer. ‘For an elf’. He could hear his father exploding of rage at the perceived dismissal contained in those words.

“I only sing the praise of who I feel is worthy of it.”

“Telperion is worthy of all the praises!”

Tyelkormo emitted a soft huff as Tilion let himself fall against him, his head pillowed on his belly. Tilion seemed to purr like a cat as the elf’s hand came to play with his hair, detangling knots and undoing braids.

“So, if even the loveliest tree in Valinor cannot cheer you up, what’s up Tyelko? Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing important. I promise. I think... I’m just starting to realise that contrary to my parents’ expectations I’m not interested in having a wife.”

“Oh?”

“Hm... And I know it’s my personal life and I can do whatever I want with it, but I have no idea how to tell them that I never want a significant other, I have no interest in romance, and I still wonder why people even want to bother making an effort to exchange disgusting bodily fluids.”

“So speaks the hunter who regularly has his hands wrist deep into animal guts.” Tilion said amused.

“You know what I mean.”

Tilion was snickering at that, getting his hair pulled slightly in answer. That made Tilion react by poking the elf who retaliated, making Tilion jump, surprisingly ticklish.

Tilion got a step away from Tyelkormo and jumped on him with a roar, slow enough that, if he hadn’t been laughing already, the elf could have avoided him.

Both ended up brawling and laughing...

Until Tyelkormo yelped as Tilion managed to make him lose his balance, and Tilion yelped as Tyelkormo pulled him down with him, and they both ended up rolling down the hill of Ezellohar, still laughing, Tyelkormo feeling definitely more relaxed now than at the start of the night.

“Well, that didn’t answer my question of how do I tell my parents that I don’t plan to ever marry, but it was fun.” Tyelkormo said finally, breathing heavily, lying on the grass next to Tilion.

Tilion hummed softly and laid down, curled up against Celegorm’s side, facing Telperion. Both calming down slowly from their laugher.

Upon Laurelin’s waxing, as the light of the two trees mingled above them, Oromë joined them there... Only to find Tyelkormo sleeping with his eyes half opened, curled up in Tilion’s arms, Tilion who was singing again the praise of Telperion.

A lament at the _temporary_ loss of the sweet silver light this time.

“You do realise the light will be back in a few hours, right?” Oromë noted for his maia.

“I know... A full few hours without the beauty of Telperion. How sad is that, my lord?!” Tilion answered, before he blinked and looked above at Oromë who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hm... I apologize? Hm... in doubt, I’ll say it’s Tyelko’s fault?”

“I was innocent in this conversation.” Tyelkormo grumbled, closing an eye, looking above them at Oromë. “I was innocent, my lord. I really was.”

Oromë snorted in amusement, and shook his head.

“Come, you two. Your absence was remarked upon, and Huan is missing you Little Hunter.” The Vala told them.

“Huan’s the best companion. He doesn’t sing.” Tyelkormo noted with a tired yawn.

“Can we teach a hound to sing?” Tilion mused quietly.

“No Tilion.” Oromë answered.

“No, I know you don’t want all your hunting hounds to sing my lord, I just meant...”

“No Tilion!” Oromë repeated with a bit of authority in his voice even as Tyelkormo was snickering softly at their side.

Oromë briefly wondered what it was with elves that influenced Maiar into having the strangest ideas.

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