The Vala, the Hound and the Elfling by Tyelca

Chapter 1

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Tyelcormo always liked to watch the Great Hunter and his Maiar when he came past, accompanied by a great horde of large hounds with intelligence in their eyes. The Great Hunter did not pass often; but Tyelcormo was there every time the Valar passed their house on the edge of Tirion nonetheless. His brothers teased him for it, but Tyelco did not care. He was awed every time the Great Hunter spoke to his dogs, who were twice as tall as little Tyelco, and wished he too could partake in the parade. But they never stopped, and the Great Hunter did never so much as give him a glance in passing.

Tyelco loved the woods. On sunny days when he would not have lessons he always took a few rolls from the kitchen and head into the forests that bordered their garden, sometimes accompanied by one or more of his brothers, but most often alone. He did not mind; in the evening at the dinner table he saw everyone anyway, and there were plenty days that they spend together. Tyelcormo knew the little paths, where the streams led, and could even locate the caves that were hidden underneath the undergrowth. He tried talking to the birds, but while they did not fly away, they did not respond either. He had heard that the Elves who’d remained on the other side of the sea could speak to trees, but trees were boring and always the same. Animals were much more interesting and intelligent, and would most likely have much more to tell.

One day Tyelcormo was on his way to a little glen, having picked up a fallen branch and softly hitting the trees with it as he went past. His other hand held a bread roll that he was munching on, thinking about what he’d do that day. The constant tick-tick-tick-tick of the branch against the tree trunks calmed him, and he knew his way well enough that he didn’t have to watch his feet. Tick-tick-pfff-tick… At first Tyelcormo didn’t even notice the softer sound, and how his branch met less resistance, so lost in thought was he, so not expecting anything but trees and birds and animals. A few meters on, and he turned around, curiosity plainly written on his face. He retraced a few steps, not seeing anything out of place.

“Behind you, youngling,” a deep voice said. It resonated deep in Tyelco’s chest, and he quickly turned around. His gaze went up, and up, and up, until he was looking at a face as high as the treetops. It smiled kindly at him, and Tyelcormo grinned back.
The face seemed to shrink and slowly the rest of the body appeared. A dark green tunic and brown pants covered a skin that was aglow with a subtle light, and Tyelco suddenly recognized the figure as the Great Hunter. Quickly his eyes darted to the sides, checking for the great hounds that always accompanied the Valar, but he could see none. A knowing smile, almost a smirk, rested on the Great Hunter’s face.

The Vala knelt down, until he was suddenly at the same height as Tyelcormo and looked him in the eye. “My name is Oromë,” he introduced himself; “there is no need to call me Great Hunter, as there are many who possess the skill of hunting game.”

“Can you read my thoughts?” Tyelco asked enthusiastically. “Can I learn that too?”
Oromë smiled. “I did, though I am afraid that is not something for me to teach. I shall, however, teach you the tongue you want to speak most, if you are prepared to study and work hard.”

Tyelcormo thought for a moment. Studying normally involved private tutors and grand libraries full of books on boring subjects; only a few held the tales he loved to read. On the other hand, he truly wanted to talk with the birds and the foxes, and Oromë did just offer to fulfill that dream. “I have to ask my mother and father,” Tyelco remembered. Oromë chuckled softly. “I think your mother and father will be very proud that you’ve managed to get my attention the way you did. Not many appreciate art of knowing when to take a life and when to leave it, nor do they admire the many different species this world has to offer.”

Tyelcormo brightened at the praise, and began talking about that one time he’d gotten so close to a wild doe he could touch her flank. He remembered the soft coat and the wary but inquisitive dark brown eyes that followed his every move. It had been a magical moment in his life, one that he would forever treasure. “But why should you take a life?” he questioned suddenly. Oromë’s expression grew serious as he explained. “There are many reasons why,” he began, “and not all of them are good ones. For instance, if food is scarce, more can be obtained by killing an animal; this is one of the few noble causes. And sometimes, when the population of predators grows too large, some will need to be laid to rest so the population of animals of prey will survive.”

“So you may take a life when it is necessary, but otherwise not?” Tyelcormo summed up. “Yes, little one, you are right. It is only justified to take what you need when there is no other choice.”

“So, if I’m hungry now, can I kill that sparrow?” Tyelco pointed up into the branches. “Or is just being hungry not need-y enough?”

“‘Just being hungry is not need-y enough’, as you so artfully put it,” Oromë confirmed. “But come. Let’s not talk about such matters. Did you have more special encounters with the inhabitants of this forest?” The question served its purpose. Soon little Tyelcormo was chatting away, and Oromë listened attentively, nodding in all the right places and now and then asking a question. It had been shortly after noon that Tyelco had left home; now the golden light of Laurelin was dimming steadily, and the dawning silver glow of Telperion made diamonds out of water drops. Oromë mentioned he had to leave now and promised Tyelcormo he would soon come to visit again and to begin his lessons. Tyelco was bouncing at this point, and waved as Oromë grew taller again, until his face was hidden behind the canopy and his body had become part of the forest again.

For the first time Tyelcormo realized the time; he was supposed to be back home before the light of Telperion became visible. Still he did not make haste on the way back, but walked slowly as the conversation with the Great Hunter replayed itself in his mind. He could still not believe the Great Hunter had seen him all those times when he rode through the wide streets of Tirion and a dreamy smile adorned his small features.

His mother scolded him for making her worry and he was suitably apologetic. After she was satisfied Tyelcormo not too dirty, he was headed to the dining room, where his brothers had already started on their dessert. His father took a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with still-hot soup, and set it before Tyelcormo. “So,” he asked with genuine interest, “what have you been doing all day that has you come home so late and looking like you spend hours inside?” Tyelco grinned back; it was not usual that his clothes were still whole.

“I met Oromë,” he said. The table suddenly fell silent.

“You did what?” that was Carnistir. “Awesome!” exclaimed the Ambarussa. Soon he was bombarded with questions from his brothers, shouting over each other to be heard. His father and mother shared a look over their heads, but Tyelcormo did not see, being too busy eating and telling his tale. “Don’t speak when there’s food in your mouth,” his mother scolded but Tyelcormo did not hear. “And then Great Hunter said he would teach me the tongues of the beasts!” he finished loudly.

“But animals cannot speak,” Maitimo protested. “They do, too!” Tyelcormo said. “And I’m gonna talk to them. You’re just boring because you only ever go out in the city.”

“Boys!” Fëanáro interrupted before the argument could escalate. “It’s late already, so why don’t you all change and go to bed? Your mother and I will come shortly.” With many mutterings about how they were big enough to stay awake, even though Curufinwë and Ambarto were unable to suppress a wide yawn, the seven elflings filed out the door. “Tyelcormo,” Nerdanel called softly, “please stay.”

Tyelco stuck out his tongue to his brothers and turned back, sitting down on the chair he’d just vacated. His parents waited until they heard the last set of footsteps stumble up the stairs; only then did they turn to Tyelco. “Tell me what happened this afternoon,” his mother asked. “Talk slow and clear, and try to remember everything.”

So Tyelcormo did. He did not mind sharing the tale again; often he was told he talked too much, so it was nice to not be interrupted. His mother listened attentively while his father cleaned the table. Tyelcormo knew that in Grandfather Finwë’s palace there were servants who did such things, but his father always got that frown on his face when that happened. It would be nice if someone cleaned his room, like they did for cousin Írissë, but his father would not have it in their home.

“Did the Lord Oromë also say when he would start these lessons?” his mother questioned. Tyelco frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t think so,” he replied. He saw his parents give each other a Look again.

“Now, you go prepare for bed too,” his father said. “I’ll come upstairs soon.”

 

---

 

The next few days nothing of interest happened and Tyelcormo was getting exhausted from his anticipation. Knowing that every moment the Great Hunter could appear sucked up his energy and drained his hopes. How soon was soon anyway for a Vala? It didn’t help that one evening the Great Hunter passed again at the head of his parade, and once again didn’t waste a single glance at the little boy watching him go by. For the first time Tyelco felt something alike to sadness, but was not. His father came to stand by him and ruffled Tyelcormo’s hair. “Let’s go inside,” he said. Tyelco nodded and ran away, desperate to hide the tears that threatened to spill.

He sought more often refuge in the trees, hoping Oromë would come and hoping he would not. He continued speaking to the birds and the foxes and the small rodents, and imagined they understood what he said. If Oromë would not help him, he would learn by himself.

Tyelcormo grew and he could look out of the window in his bedroom without standing on his tiptoes. He didn’t speak about the encounter with the Vala anymore, but he never forgot, and a small part of him never forgave.

 

---

 

It was more than a year later when he was walking towards the same glen again, thinking about what to get Írissë for her begetting day. He was deeply lost in thought, and as was his custom, he counted the trees with a fallen branch. Tick-tick-tick-pfff. The sound registered immediately, and Tyelcormo dared not move. “Oromë?” he breathed. A grumble returned to his ears, and then the deep voice vibrated in his chest. “Little one,” Oromë said. “Are you ready to start your lessons?” Slowly Tyelcormo turned around. He was met by the same face he remembered so vividly, now again just as tall as he.

“Why did you come?” he asked in a bored tone that hid his anguish.

“I came as we agreed upon,” Oromë said. “The tongues of the beasts; that what you wanted to know above all else.” Tyelco huffed. “That was long ago. I don’t need to learn anymore.”

“Have you taught yourself then?” Oromë asked and Tyelco let out a deep breath.

“Why don’t you just read my mind if you want to know,” he muttered.

“That would be an impolite thing to do,” Oromë returned and there was a hint of a smirk in his voice, but Tyelcormo was not amused. “Please go now,” he said, and turned to leave himself. Oromë intercepted him, merging on the path in front of Tyelco. He frowned. “What has put you in such a foul mood?” he asked sharply. Tyelcormo did not respond and attempted to pass the Vala. Oromë sighed. “You can tell me.”

“Was it a good reason?” Tyelcormo asked instead in a weary tone.

“A good reason for what?” Oromë replied with his own question.

“For taking a year of my life.”

It took the Vala a moment to reply, possibly to recall the conversation they had shared one sunny afternoon. “A year is not such a long time,” he commented. “I did not take anything you don’t have in abundance.”

“It was a long time to me,” Tyelcormo said, but Oromë was not to be deterred. “Come now, youngling. I have come, as promised. Hurting you was not my intention and I apologize for the delay. A year is but a blink of an eye for those who were before Time; accidents do happen. Do not let crushed hopes stand in the way of your desires.” Oromë’s voice had turned stern at the last few words and Tyelcormo looked away, thinking.

Oromë spoke the truth when he said that he still wanted to learn. The desertion would not have hurt so much if he didn’t want it. Tyelco took a deep breath and released it again. “Alright,” he said, choice made. “Teach me.”

Oromë smiled and immediately launched into their lesson. “There are two ways to speak,” the Vala began. “One of them is just like I talk now to you, to use your mouth, tongue and vocal chords to shape the sound into something they can understand. The second way is more universal, as it can be used to speak to any species. This is accomplished by the mind, and requires a certain strength that does not come easy to most.” Soon Tyelcormo was absorbed in the words of the Vala, asking questions if he didn’t understand something, and trying out the difficult movements of throat and tongue, trying to get the right sound out. The Vala also taught him the concept of reaching out with his fëa to connect to an animal in order to establish contact, but no matter how Tyelco tried, he did not manage. Oromë was not impatient; “With time,” he said, “you will be able to contact an entire forest at once.” All in all, progress was slow, but Oromë complimented him on his determination. Telperion’s light appeared over the horizon, and this time did Tyelcormo notice it.

He excused himself, and Oromë let him go without comment, but promised to be there the next day upon Tyelco’s explicit question.

That evening he was happier than he’d been in a long time and his parents commented upon his change in mood; but Tyelco waved them off, not yet willing to explain his tentative happiness.

The next day he went out into the forest again, waiting for Oromë to appear, and this time the Vala did not disappoint. The entire day passed quickly, and when the lights started to mingle Tyelco rose to leave, but Oromë stopped him. “I have a proposition for you,” he said, uncharacteristically serious. Tyelcormo waited, curious to what was to come. “Do you wish to become my apprentice?”

For a moment Tyelco could not comprehend the words, and when he could he still didn’t believe them. He blinked a few times; Oromë waited.

“Yes?” Tyelco brought out. Then, more confidently, “Yes.” Oromë’s face broke into a smile. “Good. Then I have a gift for you.”

The Vala did something Tyelco could not follow and then there was a very young dog standing next to Oromë. “This is Huan,” Oromë told Tyelco. “One of the greatest hounds in the entirety of Arda. Or he will be, at least.” With a smile Oromë looked down at the pup. “I gift him to you, to raise, to love, and to practice your speech with.”

Tyelcormo was entranced; he could not stop looking at the pup, and Huan did the same. He knelt down and stretched out his arms; Huan bounced into them, tail wagging, and proceeded to lick Tyelco’s face with vigor. Tyelcormo laughed breathlessly; when he looked up at Oromë he simply said “Thank you.”

Oromë offered him a final kind smile before he seemingly disappeared amongst the trees again, leaving Tyelcormo alone with Huan. The dog was very small; Tyelco could easily carry him in his arms and proceeded to do just that. Huan’s body was warm and he felt the steady heart beat in the same rhythm as his own. Slowly he made his way back to his house, where the scent of cooking already met his nose before he broke through the edge of the trees. Huan clearly smelled it too, as he jumped down and run to the house. Tyelco laughed and followed. He could already not imagine life without Huan. He opened the large doors that led into the house and took off his boots, as his mother had told him hundreds of times to do. He did not think of the dirt under Huan’s paws.

The door to the dining room was always open at this time and Tyelcormo could just see the tail-end of his pup slip inside. He grinned; for now he had proof; Oromë would not offer an apprenticeship and leave one of the great hounds in his care if he did not mean to return. An apprenticeship; Tyelco still could not believe it. He supposed that over time he would get used tot he idea, but not anywhere in the near future.

A shout and great turmoil from inside the dining room raised him from his thoughts; he entered and could not contain a laugh at the sight that greeted his eyes. In the few seconds he’d been inside, Huan had managed to disrupt the dinner table to a degree that even the Ambarussa had never dared to reach. Plates were cracked on the ground and food was smeared everywhere; clothes were stained dark red with sauce and pans clattered against each other. Glasses and carafes had broken in a thousand pieces and in the middle of the mess, in the center of the table, Huan was happily munching on a bone that not too long ago had contained meat.

His brothers' reactions ranged from awe to confusion to delight to interest, but the same could not be said from his parents. Fëanáro looked more bemused than anything, but there was a glint in his eye that belied his amusement. Nerdanel, however, was furious, and Tyelco had a feeling his father would not stand up for him in this instance. His mother turned quickly enough and saw him standing in the doorway. Tyelco swallowed and took a step back; his mother was not often angry, but when she was no one wanted to stand in her way. Including father, most of the times.

“Tyelcormo,” she said, and under the eyes of his parents and all his brothers, who were perched on their seats in order to escape the mess Huan was making, he entered the room.

“Good evening, mother,” Tyelco tried, but Nerdanel was not fooled. “Please explain why there is a hound thrashing dinner,” she commanded and Tyelcormo dared not refuse. “This is Huan, I got him from Oromë,” he said as he gestured to the pup that was now enthusiastically exploring those seated, licking Makalaurë’s face before bounding over to the Ambarussa, inquisitively taking red locks of hair in his small jaws and tugging. Father tried to free his sons’ hair but was unable to open Huan’s mouth without hurting either the dog or his youngest children.

“Turcafinwë, call the hound off,” he ordered, not amused anymore now. Between the stern tone and his mother’s glare as she too tried to get Huan to let go Tyelcormo dared not refuse.

“Huan, let go!” Tyelcormo called, but it had no effect, and he had only just started his lessons with Oromë; he knew nothing yet about the language of hounds so that he could communicate with Huan in his own tongue, though he doubted Huan yet spoke it.

“It hurts!” Ambarto cried out as Huan became even more enthusiastic upon hearing his name. Or perhaps he just reacted to Tyelco’s voice; either way, the situation was not funny anymore and Tyelco felt useless as he saw tears leak out of his youngest brother’s eyes. Remembering Oromë’s lesson, Tyelcormo closed his eyes and concentrated, casting out his fëa as the Vala had taught him, trying to sense Huan. This time, instead of the incomprehensible noise he’d encountered in the forest, there was a vague but distinct presence here, and Tyelcormo latched onto it. “Let go,” he ordered, and when he opened his eyes he saw, to his surprise, that Huan had indeed let go. “Come here,” he said mentally and he felt Huan’s joy at hearing his voice again. Huan bounded over the table and jumped in his open arms, making Tyelcormo lose the fragile mental bond. He licked Tyelco’s jaw, and copper threads drew a pattern of veins on his throat.

 

His parents were all busy with ensuring Ambarto was alright, and Tyelcormo saw his chance. He backed out of the dining room and quickly went to his room, where he put Huan down. Staring down at him, a series of knocks on his door told him his brothers wanted to come in. He opened the lock, and one by one they filed in, with the exception of the Ambarussa, who were still being looked after. When they were all seated, on his bed, the chair, and the ground, Huan decided it was time to continue his exploration. Tyelcormo saw and quickly took the pup in his arms to prevent further bodily damage.

“So Oromë gave you this dog?” Maitimo asked sceptically, but there was curiosity in his voice as well. “Yes,” Tyelco answered, “and his name is Huan. And Oromë also asked me to become his apprentice!”

That shut them up and Tyelcormo stuck out his tongue. It was rare that for a Vala to offer to personally teach an Eldar, and no one had been asked before they became an adult. “Do you want to hold him?” Tyelco asked.

Makalaurë looked slightly scared, but Carnistir was eager. “I want to hold him,” his younger brother called out. Tyelco smiled and gently lowered Huan into the outstretched arms, but not before commanding Huan to behave. Again, it seemed to work, as Huan lay calmly in Carnistir’s hold. After seeing this, Atarinkë too wanted to hold the pup, and after him Maitimo and even Makalaurë dared to stroke Huan’s back.

Then his father entered and took a moment to survey the scene. He then ordered his brothers to go to their own rooms to prepare for bed, and Tyelco took Huan back in his arms, protectively clutching the pup to his chest. He was reminded of the evening more than a year ago, when he’d told full of enthusiasm of meeting Oromë for the first time. He remembered he hadn’t even told his parents about meeting the Vala again, as he doubted they’d been paying much attention at the time.

“Your mother is still with Pityo and Telyo,” Fëanáro said. “But tell me everything, from the beginning.” He did not sound angry, but he was not as forgiving as Tyelco had hoped. He told everything, from Oromë’s reappearance the day before and his lessons, to the Vala’s offer to take him on as a student and gifting Huan as a means to practice. His father did not interrupt him even once, and that worried Tyelcormo most of all. Usually his father wanted to know everything and asked many questions to get everything as clear as possible.

“Are you going to take Huan away?” Tyelcormo asked in a small voice. His father let out a breath and he sounded tired when he spoke again. “No, we are not going to take Huan away,” he said. “But there will be rules, and I do expect you to keep to them.” His eyes softened. “We will not send Huan away, and your mother and I are very proud of you. But understand, you cannot let Huan roam free as you did tonight; at least, not until he has learned how to behave. He gave the Ambarussa quite a scare, and when I left Telyo was still crying.”

“I’m sorry father,” Tyelcormo said, and he meant it. “It is alright now, my son,” Fëanáro said. “No permanent harm is done. And with time, Huan will learn not to do what he did today.”

“Do you want to hold Huan?” Tyelco asked, and his father’s face lightened. “I would love to,” he said.