Hide and Seek by Ithilwen

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Chapter 3

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It was getting harder and harder to see the pretty mountain - the trees were growing thicker, and were now far too tall for Ambarussa to climb all the way to the top of, as they had done earlier. But Ambarussa were not too worried, because they had walked so far they knew they had to be very close to the mountain’s root. Soon they would smell the smoke from Aulë’s forge, and that would lead them in the right direction. Then they would find Grandfather Mahtan, and Mother, and they would finally be able to rest.

The light was becoming soft and silvery again, and Ambarussa were almost running through the trees in their hurry to reach Grandfather Mahtan’s house when they heard the funny noises. They sounded like growls. Ambarussa stopped when they heard the sounds. Their older bothers had told them that many dangerous animals lived in these forests, and that was why Ambarussa had been forbidden to enter them. Could these noises be from dangerous animals? Until now, they had not seen or heard any animals at all. Ambarussa could not see the source of the noises because of all the thick scrub that surrounded them. Slowly they began to walk forward, carefully peeking through the bushes, until they could see the creatures that were making the sounds.

Ambarussa nearly laughed with relief when they saw the animals - they were doggies! They liked doggies; their big brother Tyelkormo often brought Oromë’s dogs to their house, and once he even let them play with some of their puppies. These dogs looked different from the ones Tyelkormo played with, though. They were very big, with shaggy grey coats, and their ears stood up instead of flopping down. Ambarussa were just about to walk out into the clearing to pet the doggies when one of them suddenly growled and snapped at its neighbor. That doggie didn’t seem friendly at all! It had a mean expression in its yellow eyes which made Ambarussa uneasy. Then Ambarussa saw the blood on the faces of the doggies, and caught a glimpse of something bloody lying on the ground in front of them. The doggies must be eating! Tyelkormo had told them that they must never disturb Oromë’s dogs when they were eating; he’d said they might think Ambarussa meant to take their food away, and bite. Ambarussa didn’t want to be bitten, so they waited quietly in the bushes while the big grey doggies growled and fought each other over their food. It took a long time for the doggies to finally finish eating, but eventually they ran off into the bushes and Ambarussa could move again. Ambarussa didn’t like to look at the bloody thing on the ground, so they walked around the edges of the clearing rather than crossing it. Once the clearing was behind them, they continued forward, steadily walking in the dim silvery light towards the mountain’s root, and their Mother.

* * * * * * *

When I finally catch you, little brothers, you are going to be sorry that you were ever born! Tyelkormo swore to himself as he rode through the woods with Lord Oromë. It had been bad enough when Father had insisted he should ask to borrow Oromë’s hounds; didn’t Fëanáro realize how embarrassing it was going to be for him to approach Lord Oromë with such a request? Then when Oromë had asked his young pupil why he was so late for his lesson, and Tyelkormo had finally stammered out his request, Oromë had insisted on knowing the reason he needed the hounds, and he had been forced to relate the whole embarrassing story to his teacher. His entire family had been shamed in front of the great Vala, and all on account of his stupid baby brothers! Worse, the Vala had insisted on accompanying him back to the house and helping with the search. Tyelkormo was sure he’d never live down his embarrassment. Well, I suppose I should be grateful I didn’t have to stay home and watch Curufinwë, he thought morosely as he watched the hounds sniffing about, searching for any scent. That task had fallen to Carnistir; he and little Curufinwë had been left behind “in case your brothers should decide to come home while we are out searching,” Fëanáro had said to them, fooling neither of them. Maitimo, Findekáno, Makalaurë, and Fëanáro had each taken several hounds, and were each riding out alone in a different direction; Oromë had said that Tyelkormo was still too young to venture forth unaccompanied, and so here he was, being dragged along behind Oromë like so much useless baggage. Just thinking about it made Tyelkormo’s face burn. You’ve never been anything but trouble since you both were born, he thought angrily. Well, it’s time you both learned to behave, and if Father won’t teach you that lesson, I will! I won’t have you shaming me again.

Suddenly Tyelkormo was drawn from his reverie when he noticed one of the hounds sniffing intently at a spot on the ground. “My Lord -” he began to say when the hound suddenly gave tongue. The next thing Tyelkormo knew, he was galloping behind Oromë’s swift horse, following on the trail of the hounds as they raced forward on the scent of their quarry. As he clung low and tight to his own horse’s neck, Tyelkormo suddenly found himself grinning. Hunting pesky little brothers, it seemed, might be almost as fun as pursuing any other type of game. Who would ever have thought it?

* * * * * * *

They had walked, and walked, and walked, but there was still no sign of Aulë’s forge, or Grandfather Mahtan’s house. They were no longer even sure if they were walking in the direction of the pretty mountain - the trees were far too thick for them to see it any more. Ambarussa were very hungry and terribly thirsty, but there was no water to be found anywhere, and no berries to eat either, only leaves. They chewed on some of the leaves to ease their hunger pangs, but they tasted terrible and Ambarussa had to spit them out. Their feet were sore and bleeding, and it hurt to walk. Finally they were too tired to go any further. They had to stop and rest! Ambarussa curled up together in a pile of leaves that had drifted against a large log and silently cried themselves to sleep.

They did not know how long they had slept before they were awakened by the faint noises. They sounded like howls. Doggies! Ambarussa huddled together for a moment, listening carefully. Yes, those were dogs coming towards them - the sounds were definitely getting louder. Ambarussa remembered how the big grey doggies had growled and snapped at each other, how mean they had seemed. They suddenly didn’t want those doggies to find them. Ignoring the pain in their feet, they stood up and began to run.

They ran as fast as they could, stumbling through the thick bushes, but the sounds kept getting louder. The dogs were running faster than Ambarussa could! Desperate, they began to look for a tree to climb, but all of these trees had branches far too high to reach. As the sounds behind them grew loud, they looked around for something they could use to fend off the dogs, but all they could find were some small sticks. They each picked up a stick in their hands, and suddenly there was a loud crashing as the first of the dogs burst forth from the bushes. Frightened, Ambarussa turned to face their pursuers.

To their surprise, these doggies were not the big grey shaggy ones they had seen earlier. They were patchy colored and had floppy ears, just like the ones their brother Tyelkormo played with. And these doggies were friendly, even though they were also very noisy. They howled and barked, but they also wagged their tails and licked Ambarussa’s faces. And then Ambarussa heard more noises, and they watched as two horses came running into the midst of the doggies. One of the horses was shining white, and the big man who rode on it glowed with a bright light. The other horse was brown, and smaller - and their brother Tyelkormo was on it!

Their brother looked angry, and Ambarussa shrank back when he got off his horse and came over to them. “What did you think you were doing!” he said. They tried to tell him they were going to the mountains’ roots, but he ignored them. “Get over here now,” he demanded when they refused to move.

“Enough, Tyelkormo,” the shining man said firmly, and with that their angry brother became quiet. The shining man called the dogs to his side and told them to stay, then he walked over to Ambarussa. He was very tall, but he knelt so they could see his face. Unlike their brother, he didn’t seem angry at all. “Come here, Ambarussa,” he said gently, “it’s time to go home.”

Ambarussa didn’t want to go home - they wanted to go to the mountains’ roots where Aulë lived, to be with Grandfather Mahtan and Mother. But they were so tired and hungry, and they sensed that there was no point in arguing. And so they went to the friendly man. And he gave Ambarussa some water to drink, and then picked them up one by one. One of them he put on his big white horse, and the other he sat in front of Tyelkormo. And Ambarussa found themselves riding back home, where they would again be with their father and their other brothers. Where they would be as far away from their mother as ever. Their long and dangerous journey had all been for nothing.

* * * * * * *

The arrival of the twins at the house of Fëanáro was quiet, almost anticlimactic. Filthy and exhausted, they’d raised no fuss when Lord Oromë handed them to their father, whose countenance was initially filled with honest relief at their safe return. When his youngest sons finally revealed the reason for their wandering, though, all expression had quickly drained from Fëanáro’s face; only his eyes had revealed for the briefest instant the terrible pain their innocent words had inflicted. Maitimo had assisted his father in feeding and bathing Ambarussa, treating their numerous cuts and scratches, and settling them into their bed. They fell into dreams almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows. Fëanáro had left the room almost immediately, but Maitimo had lingered; he was sitting next to their bed, watching his little brothers sleep while whispering a heartfelt prayer of gratitude for their safe return, when he heard the light tapping coming from the doorway. Curious, he broke off his meditation and went out into the hall, where he saw his father fitting a latch onto the doorframe.

“Father, what are you doing?” Maitimo asked, although the answer was obvious.

Fëanáro, intent on his work, didn’t even look up. “Putting a lock on the door,” he replied. “From now on, the door to this room will be locked from the outside after Pityafinwë and Telufinwë are put to bed. I won’t have them running off like that again.”

“But Father,” Maitimo exclaimed in horror, “my brothers aren’t animals to be confined in a cage! They are –”

“Children,” Fëanáro interrupted firmly. “Who are far too young yet to be sensible, and whose recent behavior has proven that they cannot be trusted not to roam. I will not permit them to wander away again. This door will be locked every night, and kept locked until the morning, until I say otherwise. Every night, Nelyafinwë – do you understand me?” As he uttered those words he finally turned to face his son, and the cold look in Fëanáro’s eyes left Maitimo in no doubt that his father was serious – and that the consequences of any disobedience would be severe.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “I understand, Father.” You will have your way in this, Father, as you always do, Maitimo thought in despair. But do you truly believe that this is the best to deal with the problem our family is facing? My baby brothers are hurting - can you not see that? You’ll only be protecting their bodies this way, this will do nothing to heal their spirits! But when have you ever listened to me? If I protest any further, it will only make things worse, for me as well as for them.

“Good,” Fëanáro replied, then turned again to complete the work. “Be sure to tell your other brothers as well – I don’t want anyone violating this rule for any reason. This is for Pityafinwë’s and Telufinwë’s own good, Nelyafinwë. They are my sons, and as their father I will do whatever is necessary to keep them both safe.”

It did not take long for Fëanáro to finish installing the lock. Maitimo winced slightly as he heard the faint sound of the bolt sliding home. He remembered the times when, as a small boy, he had awakened and, unable to return to sleep, had quietly stepped outside to view the stars shining through the silvery Treelight, or had gone to join his parents in their room – how reassuring it had been, after a nightmare, to curl up between them, secure in the comfort of their embrace and their love. How would he have felt, he wondered, if he’d awakened in the night and found himself trapped so? After his father left, Maitimo gently placed his hand on the door. “I’m sorry, little brothers,” he whispered, “but there’s nothing I can do.”

* * * * * * *

Following the twins’ return, life quickly seemed to settle back into its previous rhythms. But that was mere illusion, as Maitimo soon realized. Beneath the placid surface, a subtle tension persisted, partially displacing the quiet sorrow which had been the dominant note before. Fëanáro’s emotional remoteness and volatility remained unchanged; although he had initially paid more attention to the goings-on of the household, he soon retreated again into the refuge of his workshop. Maitimo found his father’s withdrawal a relief. Before his little brothers’ frightening disappearance, he had longed for a return to normalcy, and for their father to resume his old place of authority in their family. But Fëanáro’s heart now seemed to contain nothing but pain and anger and suspicion; the very air itself was so thick with tension when he was present that Maitimo wondered how it was even possible to breathe it. And his mood seemed infectious, for it was shared by Tyelkormo and Carnistir. They clearly resented being forced to supervise Ambarussa more closely following their youngest brothers’ wanderings, and had become harsh and quick to scold them. And not surprisingly, Ambarussa remained subdued following their return. Ironically, for all Fëanáro’s concerns, they seemed to have lost all interest in exploration, showing no inclinations to leave the household grounds, and indeed seldom willingly left their older brothers’ sides. Their uncharacteristic clinginess and lethargy had both Makalaurë and Maitimo concerned, but there seemed nothing the two eldest sons of Fëanáro could do to restore their littlest brothers’ ebullience. Things cannot continue on this way, Maitimo realized, but I do not know how to make everything right again. “I wish I were wiser, Makalaurë,” he said to his brother one evening, after putting Ambarussa to bed. “Then I’d know what words to say to Father to make him listen to me for once! I’d know how to make him see our baby brothers’ unhappiness. But he refuses to acknowledge that anything’s wrong. And I don’t know how to change that.”

“You can’t, Russandol,” Makalaurë replied. “All you can do is what you’re doing now. We can’t force Father to listen to us, and reconcile with Mother. No one has ever forced Father to do anything he doesn’t want to do - and no one can! It’s just the way he is. You know that. Besides, Mother may not want to come back. We’ll just have to manage with Ambarussa as best we can. They’re young; surely they’ll eventually recover from this loss. They will probably forget Mother entirely in time,” he concluded sadly.

“Will they, filit? Father never forgot his mother,” Maitimo replied. “And he was so young when our real grandmother died, he couldn’t have many memories of her; Grandmother Indis was the only mother figure he ever really knew! Ambarussa are much older than Father was; I don’t think they will forget Mother at all. And I’m afraid, filit. They seem so listless and sad - might they waste away the way our Grandmother Míriel did?”

“Surely not!” Makalaurë said quickly, horrified. “Russandol, Father didn’t die when he lost his mother; neither will our baby brothers, I’m sure of that. Stop worrying so much!”

“I can’t, little brother; believe me, I wish I could! I wish I had your gift, to put my fears into a song and sing them all away. But I don’t, I have to live with them, and seeing Ambarussa behaving like this frightens me. And I don’t know what to do to help them!”

“Try helping yourself first,” Makalaurë said firmly. “Why don’t you ride to Tirion tomorrow and visit Findekáno? He always manages to cheer you up. Tyelkormo and I can take care of things here. And Father won’t care if you go - he knows you always stay out of trouble, unlike our younger brothers. Go see Findekáno and have some fun, and see if you don’t feel the better for it afterwards.”

“Perhaps you’re right, filit,” Maitimo replied slowly. “It has been a long time since I’ve been to the city. Are you sure you don’t mind if I go?”

“Of course not, silly brother,” Makalaurë said. “Would I have suggested it if I did? Just remember to bring back some sweets for everyone. And some bread! And eggs! And -”

“All right, filit, I’ll go!” Maitimo laughed. “And I promise I’ll return with enough treats to sate even your sweet tooth. Perhaps I will even be able to hire a bakerwoman while I’m there. Surely even Father must be getting tired of having no bread in the house!”

“I doubt you’ll be able to find one who’ll be willing to come out here and put up with all of us, but if you do, I’ll be forever in your debt! Especially if she’s pretty! But don’t spend your whole day buying supplies and hiring servants, Russandol; you’re supposed to be having fun, remember that. And don’t try to tell me that shopping for all of us is fun! I may be younger than you are, but I’m not that naive.”

“I promise you, Makalaurë, I’ll have fun. When I come back, I’ll probably be so relaxed you won’t recognize me! Thank you for the suggestion, filit. What would I do without you?”

“Brood,” Makalaurë replied. “And fret. It’s what you’re best at, and that’s why Ilúvatar made you the oldest. But in His wisdom He knew you’d often take it too far, and so He gave you a much more sensible younger brother to balance things out.”

“Sensible!” Maitimo sputtered. “You? The little boy who nearly drowned himself trying to sing underwater, because he’d heard that Lord Ossë and Lord Ulmo liked the music of the Teleri? The brother who thought that since birds sing, and they also fly, that he should be able to fly as well, since everyone told him he sang just like a bird? I almost didn’t catch you in time!”

“I was young!” Makalaurë protested. “It was an innocent mistake - why, anyone could have made it! And besides - you did catch me. It’s getting late. I think I’ll turn in now. Have fun in Tirion tomorrow, Maitimo.”

“Thank you, filit. I will.”

Makalaurë’s jests had briefly succeeded in raising Maitimo’s spirits, but as he walked down the long hallway to his own room, the sight of the locked door of his baby brothers’ room brought them low again. Makalaurë is right; I do need to take some time for myself, Maitimo thought, but that does nothing for Ambarussa. Somehow, I’ve got to find some way of helping them as well! May Irmo, Lord of Dreams and Visions, bless me with an answer soon!

To his surprise, his prayer was answered; he woke during the night with Makalaurë’s voice echoing in his mind - “No one has ever forced Father to do anything he doesn’t want to do - and no one can!” No one can? Not true, little brother, not true at all! Maitimo realized suddenly. There is someone who can force Father to act sensibly. But do I dare do this... Father, he knew, would be furious with him if he found out what he was planning to do. But what can he really do to me anymore? Maitimo thought. I’m of age now, and technically no longer under his complete authority. The worst he can do is disown me, and throw me out of the house - and would that be so bad, as things stand now? Not long ago I was thinking of leaving anyway. It’s worth the risk, for Ambarussa’s sake. Someone has to make him see reason! He shivered slightly; although he knew now what he needed to do, a part of him felt his actions would indeed be the betrayal that Fëanáro would surely regard them as if he ever learned of them. He will never know, Maitimo reassured himself. Father will never know. And I have to do this, for Ambarussa’s sake - and maybe even for his. I have no choice.

Maitimo left for Tirion early the next day, while the Treelight was still mingled, just before Laurelin began to wax. To Makalaurë’s surprise, his brother returned long before the day was out, seeming troubled and rather subdued. Even when you are supposed to be having fun, you still brood! he thought in exasperation. Did you have a fight with Findekáno? I wouldn’t think that possible! But Maitimo brushed off his younger brother’s inquiries, insisting that he’d had a wonderful time in Tirion and everything was fine.

Everything was most certainly not fine, Makalaurë soon realized with growing dismay. For his brother had not even looked for a bakerwoman, much less hired one, and had brought back no bread or eggs. Worst of all, Maitimo had also forgotten the sweets! So much for all my hopes Makalaurë thought morosely. A full day of babysitting, not to mention browbeating Tyelkormo and Carnistir, and not even a single honeycake for my pains! I love you dearly, Maitimo, but some days you’re definitely more trouble than you’re worth.