The Magnolia Tree by Gabriel  

The Magnolia Tree

“You know, you need not have bribed me,” Makalaurë explained, dodging a low hanging branch as he tried to keep pace with his brother, a miniature harp pressed against his chest. “I would have done it anyway.” He bumped Tyelkormo’s shoulder, adding weight to his words as they strode with purpose through the trees.
“Hmm?” Tyelko turned at the jolt; jerking out of reverie and just catching the end of his brother’s admission. “Forgive me!” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, running his fingers through his milk white hair as Laurelin’s light streamed through the canopy, picking up the silver strands and giving him a wholly ethereal quality.
“Have a lot on my mind,” he smiled apologetically., “We have to hurry. Everyone is expecting her, us,” he corrected, “At grandfather’s creation day feast, by mid-afternoon.” Tyelkormo sounded a little flustered.
Makalaurë grabbed his brother’s arm, halting him in his tracks and turning Tyelko to him. “We have plenty of time,” he said, pointedly capturing his younger brother’s gaze. Makalaurë had never seen his brother so nervous. Out of all his brothers he was the most self-assured, almost to the point of arrogance sometimes.
Tyelkormo sighed. “I just want everything to be perfect,” he declared, looking into his big brother’s eyes imploringly.
“And it will,” Makalaurë assured him, placing his free hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Do you have it?” Tyelkormo stared at his brother, blinking with a puzzled expression. “The ring. Do you have it?” Makalaurë repeated. Realization dawned and Tyelkormo clamped a hand to his breast, eyes suddenly wide with anxiety. For a brief moment he thought all was lost; that he had somehow misplaced it, then he felt the outline of the velvet draw-string bag in his breast pocket that held the ring Curufinwë had crafted.
Tyelkormo closed his eyes in relief and took a sobering breath. “Yes, I have it.”
Makalaurë smiled. “Good, come.” He led the way through the trees to where the forest ended abruptly and opened out onto a small meadow with an immense Magnolia tree in its centre and a group of elves standing in small groups beneath it.
“How do I look?” Tyelkormo asked nervously, glancing toward the wedding party.
Makalaurë laughed. “You are a son of Fëanor,” his brother reminded him. Tyelkormo gave him a wry smile.
“Come on,” his brother indicated, with a jerk of his dark head toward the tree. Makalaurë turned and started across the meadow filled with the many reds, purples and royal blues of Valarin wildflowers.
Tyelkormo glanced down at the velvet bag, contemplating what lay within. This was it. The moment that would change his life forever. He heaved a sigh and thought for not the first time of his uncle Nolofinwë and the regret he felt for not being able to tell him of the love he held for his daughter or the impending new life they were about to embark on together, because of the growing animosity and distrust between their families. Tyelko wished it were different.
Resolutely, he followed his brother and into the next chapter of his life.

Chapter End Notes

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