The Hunter's Song by Rhapsody

With a start, I awake up to the sound of people running down the hall. It is a year later and I am still not used to my new room, far away from the sheltering presence of my parents. It is not that I dislike my new room: it is more spacious than the other one. But Atar said that the nursery would soon be a home for a little brother whom I will love immediately. Atar does not understand that I want to remain close to Amil’s consoling arms when a nightmare hunts me down in my sleep. Only in her arms, I feel safe and secure; although, I know Nelyo tries to make me understand that I have to listen to Atar.

But Atar is wrong. I do not wish to share Amil and him, or Nelyo for that matter with a little brother. Why can’t they understand that? I feel slowly pushed aside as if I, Canafinwë Feanorion, am just a small chip of one of Amil’s statues. Over the past months, Amil could not read with me because that little brother took up all the space inside her while her belly grew bigger. Amil said that I could sit next to her instead of leaning against her body, while I listened to her soft heartbeat. That that little usurper! There, that makes me feel a bit better.

The gloomy strip of light that peaks under my door gives me just enough sight to find my friend Monyo: his smell and soft skin is always a comfort to me when I wake up in the dark. At least Atar did not want me to give this little brother my stuffed dog and this thought comforts me. My eyes feel heavy now that I feel the pull of one of Irmo’s creations, so I give in to my impending dream.

Then a squeal cuts through the night and instinctively I dive under the covers while my heart races. I hear Nelyo’s excited voice in the hallway now, Atar’s voice sounds proud too, yet I do not dare to move, at least not until the sound subsides. Once it does, the house becomes very quiet as if I am all alone in this place.

I really do not know what to do next: leave my bed and ask Atar what just happened, or be that big boy he wants me to be and go back to sleep. I know Nelyo can sometimes act so casually, as if even some bad things cannot harm him as being scowled at by Ataren Finwë’s lords. But I at least can try. Or, I suddenly realise, I can leave my bed and act as Nelyo does when I know he is upset, but does not want the other boys to know.

“Yes, that is what I will do.” I tell Monyo and I leave him behind to guard the bed as I put on my slippers and robe. Once I finally find them, I open the door and step into the abandoned hallway to hear rustling robes and muffled whispers just around the corner. I know now that I do have to be brave, but I cannot suppress the feeling of fear. Something has changed, but why did it have to change? I hesitate while I try to understand why this feeling, which took its fruit months ago, gnaws inside me. Suddenly two strong hands seize me and in a flurry of silver and blue robes, I think I know who just lifted me in these mighty arms. Ataren Finwë!

“What are you doing here stalking down the halls Inyo?” I cannot answer him because suddenly a laugh is stuck in my throat that prevents me from speaking.

“Well?” I twist my head so that we can meet eye to eye. “Everyone is awake,” I answer, but when I say it, I realise it might sound as a lousy excuse.

“So I heard, but I remember the day you were born Inyo. Your voice could be heard from afar and nothing would silence you except for your Amil’s milk.” Ataren’s voice sooths the unsettling feeling that has grown inside me for months with ease.

“I missed you Ataren,” I answer and hug him tightly. His warm hands caress my back and I know he will never ever let me go. “Will you always love me?”

Ataren’s big hand lifts me high in the air, but where normally a twinkle would be in his eyes, I see his obvious concern. “Your baby brother can wait. Come, I will make you some warm milk instead.” I simply cannot protest: Ataren simply carries me away from this hall to the kitchen. Once we arrive there, he places me on the wooden bench, asking me questions about my hobbies, friends, and my studies. And I gleefully answer everything he asks me as he stirs the pot once in a while, but his eyes never leave me. Well almost, only when he scoops two spoons of honey in my cup. But I cannot stop talking, Ataren is making me the centre of the universe again, and I feel how my hurt slowly leaves my mind and I secretly wish he will never leave me.

“Cáno, why do you think I do not love you?”

This question surprises me and I wonder why he asks me this while shortly before he gave me what I really wanted: his ears, his attention and, yes, his love.

“Do you think your Atar does not love you?”

I do not know what to say in return, especially when I watch how his eyes seem tormented to me. How can I explain this? Shamefully and bereft of happiness I lower my gaze to my cup: my hands lie idly in my lap.

“Cáno. The arrival of a new brother will not mean that your Atar loves you less.” Ataren starts, but I can sense that he weighs his words. I want to say something back, telling him that I do know my Atar loves me, but then again, why did he not come for me. Did I not hear him talking to Nelyo earlier this evening? Did he already forget about me now that this long and eagerly awaited brother has come? Now it is me who weighs his words so carefully. The last one I want to lose to this newcomer is my Ataren.

“I don’t know.” I stammer and fear throttles my voice while the salty tears drop into my sweetened milk.

“I know your Atar, Cáno.” I hear Ataren’s voice faintly and I wish I was not here, but safe in my bed with Monyo who would never ever leave me or ask difficult questions.

“I will love you until the end of the world, Canafinwë.”

Atar’s voice manages to pierce through this cloak of muddled thoughts, tears still swim in my eyes when I see him standing in the doorway with a small bundle in his arms. Nelyo – I could pick out his red hair anywhere – stands next to him. I feel so ashamed and yet so angry to be found like this. Another shift of robes blurry my vision and Ataren is gone. So is Nelyo. I still cannot look my Atar in the eyes, feeling afraid what he will read in them.

“Cáno.” Atar starts and he sits down next to me, carefully holding the bundle in his arms. “Cáno, can you at least look at me?” I try, carefully and we sit there for a while. The only thing that can be heard is the soft murmur coming from the blankets Atar still holds.

“Turco will need you Cáno.” Atar starts, “he is defenceless and needs his stronger and elder brothers to become just as powerful as you.”

Surprise overtakes me and I look at Atar to notice that he means every word that he speaks to me. Suddenly his smile lights up his face and I feel my lips curling up too. He lowers the bundle to me and I feel surprised.

“Did you not know Cáno? Did you expect your little brother to be talking and walking the day he was born? Do you remember the nest of kittens you and Nelyo found in the barn weeks ago. Were those small creatures not helpless too?”

I never considered that! But suddenly I understand. Timo, Nelyo’s brown cat started to grow very big over the course of weeks and Ataren’s previous comment about Amil’s milk.. that sinks in too. I remember the kittens, too blind and dependent on their Amil and us. I gaze down on my little brother - Turco I think - and I want to help him, defend him, and protect him from the outside world.

“His name is Turcafinwë Cáno. But Nelyo already shortened his name.” Atar laughs and he holds me close.

“Can I hold him Atar?” I ask and I try to describe the feeling of sympathy for my little brother that washes over me. Atar nods and once I sit up straight and stable, I feel the weight of my brother on my arms. His tiny lips are pursed: his eyes are firmly shut. I try to put my thoughts to words once I look up to Atar. “I love you, Atar.”

“I love you too, yonya.”

“Atar?”

“Yes Cáno?”

“I love Turco too.”

Chapter End Notes

Quenya used:

Atar: father
Amil: mother
Nelyo: Maedhros nickname
Canafinwë: Maglor’s fathername
Feanorion: son of Fëanor
Ataren: attested Quenya (Vinyar Tengwar 43:36-37), the –en is used as adjective to describe great/grand attached to Atar, which makes it grandfather
Inyo: grandson
Cáno: Maglor’s nickname
Turco: Celegorm’s nickname
Turcafinwë: Celegorm’s fathername
Yonya: my son

Even at night, the stars remind me of what a failure I am. I lie here beyond a hill sheltered from Telperion’s waxing light so that I can gaze at these jewels in the sky without pollution from the tree’s silver light. And beautiful they are: shining and twinkling something to rely on, just as my Atar is for his people, I know I can only blame myself for being like this. It almost feels unfair to me that I have nothing which I can claim my own now. Not a craft which Atar masters and has won great renown with, the self-esteem of Nelyo which makes every maiden turn their heads into his direction as he walks upon the streets of Tirion. Or even more admirable: the manner how Cáno can touch so deeply into the hearts of all with such a seemingly simple gift: music. But I know he worked hard on this skill, day in and out, working with tutor after tutor, being Atar’s shining example when he wants to lecture me about work ethic.

I can see it in his eyes that I disappoint him, even the younger ones are more pleasing to him than his lazy son who does nothing more than to hang around the house or once in a while comes back with the bounty of hunting. No, I do not share the pleasures of riding him to Aulë and his halls where the art of creating reigns those who seek guidance there.

So here I lay, my head feels heavy on my hands and I wonder what is written in the stars for me. I often hear how my brother sings of destiny woven into the expanse of Valacirca, but yet when I gaze up to them I ponder what might me written in the stars for me. It cannot be who I am right now: steerless and lapse in to this state of sloth. So, what is it? My fëa screams, rebelling against my outer shell once it detects the soft cords dancing on the gentle wind that soothingly ruffles my hair, but I keep my mind firmly locked onto Helluin. This is another gift that my elder brother has: his voice has a tremendous reach, where ever he speaks or sings, many can follow his lead on the road to the majesty of our house.

Oh please deliver me, show me a sign, one that I can follow. Suddenly my head turns from right to left, hoping that none would have heard Turcafinwë, third son of Féanoro, praying to Varda’s stars for guidance. And what much good it does, I think and yet again, I cannot imagine that this high and mighty Valier will listen and provide me with guidance. Ay, yes I do feel bitterness, for it feels that she thinks her work is done now since the beloved children of the Valar are home. But who led them to these shores? Ataren says it was not she, but it was the Valaróma to whom they hearkened at first. Cáno’s music grows as if he appears to be near, this time I try to discern what instrument he has mastered now. The sound feels light and yet warm, as silver dust that trickles through the forge’s light of Atar when he works on a pendant or something alike the shine reflecting the warmth of the workplace.

“Ai, Turco. Here you are.” My brother’s voice sounds like silk, gentle, and calming on one’s skin when they see solace between the sheets of one’s bed.

“Is Atar looking for me?” The moment these words tumble from my mouth I silently scold myself. Why do I judge him so fast to think that Atar has sent him to fetch me? Days ago he said we would leave for Aulë’s hall, but my heart is not in it. I do know that my brother is his own man, not an errand boy who delivers and gathers messages for his lord. Then silence is between us and I see a tender smile lingering on his lips as if he simply knows I will be chiding myself in my thoughts for my words.

“Forgive me,” I apologise and I am rewarded with a warm chuckle.

“For what Turco? I am not offended. You are the master of your own words and thoughts.”

And how true he is, for nothing fools Cáno; although he does not show that often, for it is almost Nelyo who speaks for us when Atar is not around.

“What brings you here then?” Ai, Turcafinwë! I chide myself, why is it so hard to return such gentleness?

“I was indeed looking for you. A messenger came from Valimar, carrying this.” Cáno lowers himself to the ground next to me, handing me a wooden box, while a small silver flute is being held in the other hand.

“This does not bear a sign I recognise,” I answer while I study the lid before breaking the seal.

“Then you have not spent enough time around Nelyo the past years.” Cáno teases me, “For that was the seal of one of the Aratar.”

I feel chided for not paying so much respect to the High Ones of Arda, but his smile is kind and his eyes are patient. “Well come on, open it!”

This I do while the laugh resonates between us, his eyes more eager to find out why one of them would send a gift to me. I can think of only one who might be so kind, one that grandfather Finwë often refers too with reference. He simply could not have…

My fingers find a note, but I cannot read it here. Under it lays a wooden horn, simple and refined. “Come,” I say to my brother while the small pieces of the puzzle falls into its place. I scramble to my feet, the stars long forgotten and I run up the hill to catch the light of Telperion to read the note.

“Well hurry if you do want to know!” I yell to my brother who is surprised by my sudden burst of energy and I wonder how many have seen me as the idle son of the seven. With eagerness I unfold it and I know this is my destiny. My voice sounds steady and firm, but also energetic and full of life when I read aloud: “It has come to my attention that Turcafinwë Fëanorion is available for an apprenticeship in hunting…”

Chapter End Notes

Canon note:

Fëanor and his sons abode seldom in one place for long, but travelled far and wide upon the confines of Valinor, going even to the borders of the Dark and the cold shores of the Outer Sea, seeking the unknown. Often they were guests in the halls of Aulë; but Celegorm went rather to the house of Oromë, and there he got great knowledge of birds and beasts, and all their tongues he knew.

From: The Silmarillion, Chapter 5 Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

Quenya used:

Telperion: The elder of the Two Trees of Valinor, called the White Tree.
Atar: father
Nelyo: Maedhros nickname
Cáno: Maglor’s nickname
Valacirca: ”Sickle of the Gods”, this is the name for the Great Bear/Big Dipper constellation. Varda created this constellation.
Fëa: "spirit" (pl. fëar attested, MR:363).
Helluin: The brightest of Varda's stars. The name in Middle-earth for the star today known as the Dog Star, Sirius. Its name appears to mean 'ice-blue'.
Féanoro: Fëanor’s mother name
Turcafinwë: Celegorm’s fathername
Aratar: "the Supreme", the chief eight Valar, translation of the foreign word Máhani adopted and adapted from Valarin (WJ:402).
Fëanorion: son of Fëanor
Ataren: attested Quenya (VT43:36-37) for grandfather
Turco: Celegorm’s nickname
Valaróma: Oromë’s hunting horn
Valimar: ‘Vala-home’. A name of the city of the Valar in Valinor, more commonly referred to as 'Valmar'.