A troubling epiphany by Harnatano - Lithenna

Chapter 1

The woods were already vibrating with the sounds of the horns and the barks of the hounds, accompanied with the drum of the horses' hooves, stamping  the strong ground before Oromë’s Halls, while the hunters were getting prepared.

Happily had Curufinwë joined his older brother for a hunt during this day of festival in the woods of the Vala, and with the same bliss he had himself prepared his bow and arrows, his horse and clothed himself in brown, with opulent raiments and accessories. Tyelkormo had gently mocked his elegance when they had met in front of the stables, warning him against the dirt and the mud which the hunt would eventually bring, but Curufinwë had shrugged the remarks off and with a cunning smile he had adjusted his horse's saddle. 

Tyelkormo was right; the hunt woud leave a few marks on his precious garments, but Curufinwë couldn't do otherwise; he had to show the best of his elegance and to give a wonderful and princely image of himself. The saddle too was a piece of art, and the horse was magnificient; a grey stallion received as a gift from his wife's father. Agile and smart, the horse was also a fast and resistant runner, and despite the stubborness the animal could very often display, Curufinwë loved him. Calafanya was his name, and the Ñoldo considered him his friend.

“I am delighted, brother!” Tyelkormo shouted. “All the conditions are reunited for the hunt to be a success.”

“Are not all your hunts successful, Turco?” The youngest enquired mischievously, perfectly aware of his borther's pride and of how to play with it.

“Aye! But today you are with me, and you shall witness the might of my arms and the precision of my movements.”

Curufinwë gave a smile and he chuckled quietly; He had witnessed already, and many times, the impressive skillfulness of his older brother, and his talents as a hunter, and during his tender youth, Curufinwë had followed his brother many times, only to learn through a careful watch of Tyelkormo's admirable moves. It was a show in itself, a display of his strength and tricks, of his talents and years of training. Curufinwë, although a rather good hunter now, had never ceased to be impressed by the eldest.

But now the two Fëanorians were on their horses, and about them, other Ñoldor were talking and laughing, including their cousin Irissë and her friends. Some Maiar of Oromë had decided to join the hunt, and cladded in bodily shapes, they were peacefully watching the Ñoldorin crowd and the great hounds which were trotting among them. The two youngest Fëanorians should have been there, but the festivity of the previous Mingling had been heavily furnished in meads, including a few delicate bottles of miruvórë and the twins were now painfully regretting their eagerness to celebrate.

“Hopefully, Turco, I shall not let you unshaken either, for Calafanya and I have trained a lot lately, and I do plan to show you how greatly our partnership has improved.”

“Oh, this I do not doubt, brother!” Tyelkormo laughed, and he winked at Curufinwë as his brother's horse rubbed his nose against his knee. “But let us not tarry here; I promised your lady to bring you back to Tirion before the Mingling, and I shall not deceive her, nor your son who must already be waiting for his father to come home.” After another wink, Tyelkormo rode forth to Tilion, and soon after the Maia was blowing a mighty horn, calling for the beginning of the hunt.

Curufinwë followed Huan who was joining his master's side, and on his way he passed by Irissë, who, a soon as she saw him, smirked mischievously, and so did the tall maiden who was standing beside her. Curufin bowed his head and smiled to both, and the hunt began.

There had been laughters and eager cries of joy. The horses had neighed, the hounds had barked and many horns had been blown to accompany the gathering of Ñoldor, Maiar and animals, amid a joyful excitation as they galloped through the woods. Curufinwë was among them, enjoying the wind against his face, the strength of his horse between his legs, the chants of the hounds and the sentiment of power and freedom which always prevailed during a hunt. He had laughed, and launched a few successful arrows, his horse had passed his brother's, and as intended, Curufinwë had proved himself an excellent rider. But the greatest hunter of the family, and the best among the Ñoldorin company was Tyelkormo, and so swiftly, so elegantly he had used arrows and wooden spears to pierce the games, his cunning and piecing eyes following the beasts through the forest, guided by Huan and by his instincts. The performance was yet not totally improvised, for Tyelkomo knew he was being observed by his comrades and brother, and the agility he was displaying was calculated to highlight his natural skills.

Curufinwë was no fool, and he knew his brother too well to be deceived by this innocent game of pride. He was not so different after all, and he did enjoy the perfomance as much as the challenge. For Curufinwë's own pride came back, and eager to impress the company, the Fëanorian drove his horse through a difficult shortcut; the narrow path was stony and dangerous, and an untrained mount would walk but carefully upon it. Yet, Calafanya seemed comfortable, and Curufinwë was confident, and they galloped easily upon the tortuous and dented path, as the rest of the group kept on following the main one. Very well, Curufinwë though, for he was convinced that he would quickly and easily join the crossing of the roads, ere the group of hunters, and all would be impressed by the agility of his mount, and by his own skills. He knew the way; Tyelkormo had showed him, years before, and with a good horse there was nothing to fear. He could even find a partridge on the way, and bring it back as a trophy, and already this perpective was bringing a smile to his lips.

And yet, after a mile, Curufinwë stopped his horse, and looked eastward; there was another path here, a path which he didn't know and which seemed to climb up a hill, and this hill he had never explored before. Curufinwë was no adventurer, he was a scientist, but scientists and adventurers have this in common that they are all driven by the light of discoveries. This new place was a discovery, to him at least, and it was too tempting to remain ingored, although he knew that it would surely annihilate his attempt to win the game of pride which he had devised when he had first left the group. Going west would lead him on the opposite way, and he wouldn't find his brother and their company ere a few long hours.  But his curiosity was stronger, and there was in the calm of these woods a silence which delighted him. Thus he was not so eager to find again the tumultous clamors of the hunters, and would rather enjoy the serenity of the forest a bit longer.

And now he rode forth westward, trotting calmly on this new path, no less tortuous than the previous one, and swiftly his horse walked up the hill despite the massive roots and rocks which were covering the ground. Time didn't matter here, and it is only when he reached the top of that hill that the dimming light of Laurelin gave him an indication regarding the hours spent under the trees. Now, the place was almost bare, save for a few old oaks  and a thick grass, and after a long, content sigh, Curufinwë dismounted.

Instinctively, he looked toward Tirion, which stood proudly behind the pastures of Yavanna, and he watched further, towards the Trees and their light which would soon start to mingle. The Fëanorian had a quick thought for his brother, who should have started to look for him now, and for his wife and son which expected him to return soon, but the peace of the place and the beauty of the sight were too enchanting, and he decided to ignore the murmurs of his responsibilities, buzzing in the back of his mind.

The hill was standing high in the shadows of the Pelóri, and while raising his head, Curufinwë could see the lights and the birds of the House of Manwë, so close and yet so far. Aman was beautiful indeed, a delicate frame bathed in the magnificent light, a jewel protected from the darkness that lied beyond the mountains, a warm and green enclosure. His gaze lingered on the Pelóri, and from where he stood Curufinwë couldn't see behind these high walls, nor could he guess the depths of the Ocean and the so called dangers of the wide lands which were beyond it. But he remembered his father's words, the words Fëanáro had spoken during the past months, about this very enclosure. Like beasts, the Eldar were gathered in this closed and beautful area, a golden cage for a mighty folk whose winds had been cut off by the Valar themselves. Or so it seemed. Until now, Curufinwë had listened and pondered his father's words lengthilly, without totally grasping their true meaning. Oh, he understood the speech, and trusted his father's suspicions to be born from a truth, but he hadn't felt yet the intensity of his father's sentiment on the matter.

Now he did feel it.

Now, as he watched upon the lands and the strong barricades which were hidding the East, as he tasted the dimming of the golden light again and consider the strength and the height of the mountains, Curufinwë could see it, the golden cage, the enclosed garden, the beauty of a land which happened to be but a lure; and upon Taniquetil, Manwë was watching, like a careful gardener nurturing the valuable minds of the Eldalië with lies and false promises.

It was an epiphany, and very clearly it was appearing to Curufinwë now, and so deeply he started to undertand his father's suspicions, to see through the treacherous promises made by the Ainur and to burn with a new eagerness; Freedom. For the apparent freedom he had felt while riding through the woods seemed now like an illusion, a crude painting of what freedom should really be, and bitterness began to bubble in his stomach, bringing bile with it and fears too. Locked they were, captives with the illusion of freedom, this illusion of reality though the world itself was outside, waiting for them to light it. And the Valar had forsaken this world and forbidden the Eldar to adorn it, and to even walk upon it.

The Mingling was now decorating the land with millions of sparks, silver and gold merging into a kaleidoscopic composition of colors, abstract and yet meaningful, almost too beautiful, too charming to be real, and Curufinwë was bitter. 

The sound of his brother's horn, at the foot of the hill, pulled him away from the depths of his thoughts, and he blinked a few times ere he returned to his horse, who was calmly resting near the oldest oak of the clearing. Silently, and with no great enthusiasm, Curufinwë took the path which would eventually bring him back to his brother, and when they finally met, he was still thoughtful and silent.

“By Aulë's hammer, what were you doing up there, Curvo?” Tyelkormo barked, obviously relieved to see his little brother again, and yet slightly annoyed by the whole situation. “I have spent the last hours searching for you.”

Curufinwë didn't reply, but he looked his brother in the eye for a long while, and in his gaze the intensity of his thoughts could easily be read.

"What happened?” Tyelkormo enquired. “Did you meet anyone? Are you hurt or... Is Calafanya? Curvo, what troubles you; where is your joy gone?”

“You ask too many questions, brother.”

Obviously annoyed, and no less surprised by the sharpness of the reply, Tyelkormo gave a snarl, and shook his head, as if to shake off the unpleasant atmosphear which had fallen upon them, and with a sullen voice he asked one more question. “Your wife and son must be waiting for you; shall I bring you back to them?”

"No. I need to talk to father."

Chapter End Notes

contrary to what I thoutgh when I posted this fic, there might be a second chapter.