Tíran i tauri by flame_of_the_noldor  

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Chapter 2

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Tyelkormo restlessly tossed and turned in his bedroom. His nights had become restless after the birth of his latest baby brothers, Ambarussa. Although they were quiet at times, they had a tendency to create a racket that disturbed everyone in the house. More often than not, Tyelkormo had to sleep with a pillow strapped around his ears to avoid the crying of the newborn babes. 

 

But tonight, as Telperion’s glow steadily rose, he felt a great sense of peace and quiet, as if all of Tírion and Aman had quieted down for some great event of unknown purpose. As he laid back in his bed, his dreams were fanciful, describing great hunts and pleasures of trophies laid before his father and Oromë himself. His father took great pride in his achievements and created beautiful works of art out of his trophies, as well as adorning his brothers with the spoils of their hunt. 

 

The instructions came to him as soon as he awoke: 

 

Come to the center of the forest beyond Taniquetil when Telperion is brightest in heaven. You will know how to get there. 

 

Tyelkormo obeyed, and left the large house of his atar in Tirion.

 

He cautiously stepped into the courtyard and saw bright Telperion above him, shining like the jewels his atar worked with. 

 

He walked out onto the cool white stone street lit by Telperion’s silver glow, beacons that led him outside of the city and into the shadowed woods beyond.

 

As Tyelkormo walked through the abandoned city streets, he felt as if the mountains became closer and closer the more he walked despite still remaining within the walls of Tirion. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he continued walking toward the gates of Tirion. He walked confident through the gates, as if he knew exactly where to go, despite having never been far beyond the bounds of Tírion, let alone beyond Taniquetil.

 

The Pélori rose before him like great sentinels guarding Taniquetil, as he walked closer to the foothills of the mountains. 

 

The woods were quiet and there was a strange air to them, as if they were living and watching him with passive interest as Tyelkormo made his way through dense thicket and bough.

 

Soon he came to a clearing where Telperion’s light shone brightly above him, illuminating the soft grass with silvery light.

 

He felt an instinctual urge to look up at the stars. Then, a booming voice echoed through his mind, like the sound of a hunter’s horn.

 

Behold the wild beasts of the forests, led by my charge.

 

Suddenly various beasts of all wondrous shapes and sizes emerged from the dense forest, great elk and deer, boars and wolves, ravens and falcons, wild aurochs with great horns, and powerful bulls.

 

They surrounded Tyelkormo in a circle, staying out of his reach. They all looked him with interest, as if they were possessed of an intelligence greater than normal. 

 

Tyelkormo was urged within his mind to glance up and he saw a pale silver sphere of light above him, as it began to descend and shift into the shape of a grand silver clad being with brilliant silvery horns, clothed in the rainment of stars and the deep void of Ëa.

 

A great voice overcame him once more, and Tyelkormo stumbled backward onto the grass, landing on his back. 

 

Tilion is my charge, and under him are the beasts of the forests guided by the path set before them, as you shall be, Tyelkormo Fëanárion.

 

Tilion stood deathly still, watching Tyelkormo with passive interest. Tyelkormo sensed no threat from the maia, but was deeply unnerved with the way his eyes, or what Tyelkormo thought were eyes, bored into him, deep and eternal. 

 

Nature began to shift, flowing into itself yet staying still as Tyelkormo watched in concurrent awe and fear. He caught a glimpse of the ground and saw it constantly shifting in dizzying ways, ghostly images of what he thought were snakes in the grass, only to shift back into fallen branches.

 

Tilion began to shift into a mirrored being, standing both before and behind Tyelkormo as the woods began to shift around him, colliding into itself, as leaves and branches flowed together into perfect mirror opposites of the other, constantly flowing and reshaping themselves into newer, wilder shapes. 

 

Grasses flowed upward like the wind and water and circled around the startled elf’s legs.

Throughout it all, the elf felt a great sense of peace overcome him, and awe at how nature itself bent to the Great Hunter’s will.

 

Colors more vibrant than any Tyelkormo had ever seen in Aman bled together into melted facsimiles of trees, leaves, and boughs, as strange multicolored shapes wove their way into his vision. The very forest itself began to merge into kaleidoscopic shapes, then reforming into a facsimile of normality once more. Tyelkormo saw leaves dance and swirl before him, as his mind struggled to understand what was happening to him. 

 

Tilion held Tyelkormo from behind and in front, and a gentle voice that sounded like his own, yet alien, urged him to close his eyes. Within the darkened void, he saw strange vibrant colors emerge in his mind, coalescing into swirling shapes made of light and color, flashing and dancing around him, encircling him with their fantastical patterns.

 

In his mind’s eye, he was led through this tunnel of twirling shapes into a central chamber made of twisting, serpentine trees that surrounded a seated figure with several pairs of great horns and antlers springing forth from their head like a crown. The figure had the head of a great and noble stag on its left, the other a noble white bull, and the center head was like that of one of the eldar. He saw that both arms of the figure seemed to be grasping a branch of the trees behind them, and saw the branches transform into horned snakes before his very eyes, gnawing and striking at the figure, yet the figure remained calm.

 

The great voice of the figure echoed through Tyelkormo’s mind, like the crack of thunder or the beating of a drum. 

 

My name is Oromë, Lord of Hunters, Tyelkormo Fëanaríon. In me are all beings of the hunt granted their charge, and all forests are under mine and Yavanna’s domain. 

 

The figure’s horns and antlers continued to flow forth into fractal shapes that bled into the three heads of the figure. Multiple eyes seemed to appear and disappear as quickly as they were formed as Oromë continued to speak. 

 

Have no fear, Tyelkormo. Thou shalt not be harmed. 

 

I chose this form so that thou may see whom I am. The forms we take among the eldar are there to protect you and because we wish to meet you as equals, as all life should be.

 

Tyelkormo could barely formulate a thought while the being continued to speak, but the spark of recognition came to him. 

 

You are the one that brought me back to my family when I was an elfling.

 

A great laugh, loud and resonant, echoed throughout Tyelkormo’s mind.

 

Yes I am. And when I saw you, I knew that thou hadst the spirit I wanted from one of my charges.

 

Soon Tyelkormo found himself back in the wooded clearing, Tilion at his back now. Nature still swirled and danced around him, bright colors fading in and out of his vision as Tilion whispered in his ear, “We have a great honor in mind for you, Tyelkormo Fëanárion.”

 

A great beast in the shape of a horse white as snow bearing Oromë on it’s back emerged from the forest. Another beast, a great elk with wide antlers, approached both Tyelkormo and Tilion. Tyelkormo gasped as he was lifted on top of the elk with Tilion sitting behind him.

 

Tyelkormo saw Oromë’s steed begin to quickly gallop away, as it was carried by the wind itself.

 

“Now then, Tyelkormo Fëanárion, you shall partake in the Great Hunt.”, the maia whispered once more as the elk began to gallop in pace with Oromë. 

 

Tyelkormo’s head lolled as the branches swirled into intertwining multicolored serpents and he felt every beat of the elk’s hooves against the ground, as if he were the elk itself.

 

The hooves continued to thunder against the ground as the forest grew thick and dark around them, and they ascended atop hill and cliff, before coming to the top of a large promontory that overlooked the forest and Yavanna’s pastures below them. A rushing waterfall fell past them, and the sound was like that of the sweetest music to the elda’s ears. 

 

Tyelkormo was quickly handed a silver bow, and instantly, it felt like his vision sharpened, able to see the slight twitch of a bird’s wings as it sat in a far away tree, the skittering of a squirrel as it bounded up a tree, and the slithering of a snake in the underbrush far below them. He felt at one with the earth, the rocks, the trees, the water below and around him. His ears heard the sound of rushing water on the other side of the peak of Hyamentir, the very heartbeat of the elk that he was sitting atop of, and the cry of an eagle far above them as it flew toward Taniquetil on its nightly patrol. 

 

As if on instinct, he aimed his bow right at the heart of an elk that was wandering the woods in search of food and he let loose his arrow, striking the elk directly and instantly killing it. A surge of pride overcame him as he drank In the success of his hunt.

 

Oromë nodded with approval as his horse trotted next to Tilion. Tilion smiled, or at least appeared to smile behind Tyelkormo. 

 

“You are doing well, Tyelkormo Fëanárion, but there are greater beasts for us to hunt tonight.”

 

Oromë withdrew the horn from his belt and blew upon it, the sound echoing throughout the entirety of Aman, shaking stone and water, earth and air with its great bellow. Then, his horse galloped away and began to leap over the crags below them, until he reached the bottom of the mountains. Tilion and Tyelkormo followed suit, as their elk gracefully bounded down the rocky clefts until they met Oromë.

 

Tyelkormo stared into the dark sea before them, the gently lapping waves at their mounts’ hooves forming itself into kaleidoscopic shapes and spirals before shifting back into water. 

 

Tyelkormo could see Oromë nod with approval again before his horse leaped into the water, but instead of sinking, the horse began to float on top of the water as if it were merely ground. He watched in awe as Oromë’s mount carried him atop the water and soon, himself and Tilion joined him. The water touched the elk’s hooves but did not allow them to sink, even if everything that Tyelkormo knew in that moment told him that they should be.

 

In the distance, he could see the starry lights of Alqualondë glittering against the sea, but they quickly passed as the pair of them rode swiftly and silently across the water. 

 

Far ahead of them, Tyelkormo could see looming mountains and rocky shores, of an unknown place to him.

 

Oromë, as if sensing his curiosity said, “These are the lands that exist beyond Aman, created by the Valar in the great Spring, now corrupted by Morgoth.”

 

They reached the shore and stood upon its rocky banks. Great cliffs rose above them, hemming them in like cages, but their companions quickly ascended the cliffs to bask in the view of the unspoiled land, to Tyelkormo’s eyes, before them.

 

Dark shadows crept around them, and calls of strange birds and wild animals filled the air with a deathly dread. Even in his stupor, Tyelkormo knew that many of these beasts were greater than those that he had hunted before in Aman.

 

“Come now, there is work to be done.”, Oromë ordered as he blew his great horn once more before leaping away into the pitch black darkness of the nearby forest. The elk bearing Tilion and Tyelkormo followed suit and the trees whirled past him in a blur of black as they heard the cry of a fell beast nearby, terrible and dreadful.

 

He saw the glint of a great spear in Oromë’s hand as it flew through the air like a beacon of light before striking it’s target, briefly illuminating the terrible shape of the beast’s face. Tyelkormo dared not look at it, for fear of the beast’s visage.

 

They continued to gallop through the woods, overcoming each obstacle in their path with no fear or trouble. He felt Tilion draw another silver bow and nock the arrow in preparation for their next target. He heard the string of the bow pulled taut, then loosened as the arrow flew through the air like a falling star, before striking through the skull of another terrible beast, whose horns Tyelkormo could only make out the vague shape of.

 

An urge surged within his mind, the urge to hunt these shadow creatures, to fell them before his bow and drink in victory. His senses, still more alive than ever, came into focus as he nocked the silver arrow that Tilion handed him from his quiver, pulled the bow taut, and fired.

 

He barely had time to register the scream of a foul creature in the darkness before Tilion handed him another arrow. This too, was nocked and fired into the heart of a flying creature that attempted to swoop down upon Tyelkormo to peck his eyes out. With a howling screech, the beast fell before them and was trampled underfoot by the great elk’s hooves. Dreadful serpents and wolves followed suit, pursuing them and attempting to strike their fangs at the three of them, but all were vanquished with silver light from the strike of Oromë’s spear or the arrows of Tilion and Tyelkormo.

 

Soon their hunt came to an end, and they returned to the shores from where they had originally arrived. 

 

Tyelkormo soon fell asleep as they raced on top of the water, too tired to keep his head aloft. As they came back to the shores of the Bay of Eldamar, Tyelkormo was gently woken up by Tilion. As he woke up, his vision cleared and his senses no longer felt as sharp, but they felt stronger than before. 

 

As they returned to the Calacirya, they stopped just above the city of Tírion, at the hill of Ezollahar.

 

Oromë turned to him and said, “Now is here where we must depart, Tyelkormo Fëanárion. You have now participated in the Great Hunt and are worthy of bearing a token of my might.”

 

He snapped his fingers and a glistening silver spear and bow, much like Oromë and Tilion’s own, instantly materialized within his hands.

 

Tilion dismounted and took both the spear and bow from Oromë’s hands and knelt before Tyelkormo.

 

“Treasure these with your life, Tyelkormo Fëanárion. They are made of metals that shall never break, rust, or dull, and they will serve you well in your travels, for they are blessed by the Lord of Hunters.”

 

Tyelkormo gratefully took both weapons and slung the bow over his back before testing the heft of the spear with both of his hands. The spear was elegant and taller than him, but glowed with an iridescent light that seemed to never fade. On the shaft of the spear were carved various runes in a language he did not understand, but knew that they contained the blessings of Oromë himself.

 

He gratefully bowed his head and walked down the hill back toward Tírion.