Swan Song by Ithilwen

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The Fledgling Takes Wing

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Chapter 8 – The Fledgling Takes Wing

Tuilir's birth indeed marked the beginning of a time of change, just as Maglor had sensed it would. Not long after her arrival, his twin brothers Amrod and Amras were finally released from Mandos (prompting Maedhros to remark, "Whoever would have imagined their skinny little necks would prove so much stiffer than my own?"). Maglor was happy to see them at first, but in the end was relieved when the two of them eventually decided to forsake the slow life of their small village of Fëanorian supporters in favor of a wandering existence in the great northern forests. He found it hard enough to accept his older brother's carefully restrained pity; enduring even larger and less disguised doses from his very youngest brothers quickly became painful (although mindful of Maedhros's earlier words to him, he tried hard to keep his resentment of it hidden, in the interests of family unity). Later years saw the release of Caranthir, who surprised everyone by returning to Formenos to live with his wife, and finally Celegorm and Curufin. Celegorm very quickly joined the twins, and was soon making a fine living as a trader of furs. After a short stay with the family, Curufin journeyed south to rejoin his wife. Not long afterward he returned to the village alone, his face frozen in grief, and like his two elder brothers moved into Mahtan's house. He spent his days working alongside their grandfather, and his nights mostly avoiding everyone else, and Maglor's one clumsy attempt to console him met with such a venomous response that Maglor shied away from having much to do with him after that, figuring that his younger brother's sorrow over his estrangement from his wife would have to find its own release in its own time, but until that day came avoidance was the least painful option for them both. In any case, he was far too preoccupied with his own family to pay too much heed to Curufin's loss.

Tuilir, to Maglor's surprise and Maedhros's amusement, was indeed "just a baby" at first, but she didn't stay that way for long. She grew at what seemed to Maglor an astonishing rate, and it was not long before she had left all traces of babyhood far behind and was the most beautiful young girl the Eldar had ever known or would ever know (at least in her father's thoroughly biased eyes). And as she grew, it became apparent why Aurel during her pregnancy had felt her daughter's fëa resembled her husband's, and why she had gifted her little girl with the mother-name "Bird Maiden," for Tuilir Aewen had inherited her father Maglor's musical gifts.

At first Maglor wasn't sure whether his daughter's talent brought him more joy or pain.

During her early childhood, music had been something which brought the two of them together. He'd kept up the practice of singing her to sleep that he'd begun before her birth, and as she'd grown out of babyhood Maglor had delighted in teaching her to sing the simple songs he remembered from his own childhood. And Tuilir had made it plain that very little delighted her more than singing with her father. But as she grew older, things grew more complicated. She'd beg her father to sing, not a song, but a particular song, and could not understand why Maglor wouldn’t always oblige. ("You don't remember it? But that's not true! You sang it for me yesterday. Sing it for me now, Father! Please?") And she began to create songs of her own – only simple tunes, but like the buds of spring for which she was named, they were signs of a talent which would grow only more impressive with the passage of time. A talent her father possessed no longer, and had never stopped mourning. At times, watching her gift flower felt to Maglor like being stabbed in the heart.

But even when his own spirit was heaviest, Maglor could not help but take pride in his daughter's prodigious talent, and feel joy in her obvious delight in it. I am my own father's opposite, he found himself thinking. Until my brother Curufin was born, Father felt the frustration of knowing none of his sons could ever equal him. I have to live with the knowledge that my own child will inevitably exceed me. May I bear that burden better than my father bore his own! And the bond of music father and daughter had shared so easily during her infancy, though strained, never entirely broke. For Maglor, better than anyone else in the family, understood Tuilir's single-minded obsession with her art, and the effort she would need to expend to excel in it. And so he did his best to encourage her, listening patiently to her rapidly improving songs despite the pain they caused him, and hiring the best music teacher he could find who was willing to come to their small village and instruct her.

It helped that Tuilir's instrument of choice was the flute, which Maglor had never played (although he had composed for it), and not the harp. His own harp, the only thing of real value he had owned, a gift from his family he'd received shortly after his return from Lórien, he sold to pay her tutor's fee; if anyone else in the family noticed its absence, they never commented on it.

And over time flute music began to replace reading from books as the family's evening entertainment, and Maglor found a certain measure of acceptance, and life settled into a peaceful rhythm. Or so it seemed.

The peace shattered when Tuilir grew old enough to understand the limits of what she could achieve in the confines of their small village, and to chafe at them.

"Father, my tutor thinks it's time I study music seriously."

"You are studying music seriously. Why do you think your mother and I hired an instructor for you?"

"She says she's taught me all she can. That if I want to make the most of my talent, I should go off to a school which specializes in music and study there full-time. She says the best conservatory by far is in Alqualondë."

"Alqualondë is out of the question, Tuilir."

"Why?"

"Your birth would be held against you there."

"You don't know that. The Kinslaying was horrible, but it was a long time ago. I wasn't even born then. I'm sure the same is true of a lot of the people living in Alqualondë. They won't care that I'm your daughter."

"I do know that. Our people have long memories, Tuilir. Enough people will care, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"I'm willing to chance it, if it means an opportunity to study with the best."

"It's easy for you to say that now, daughter. You've not encountered real prejudice yet. Your mother and I have done our best to shelter you from it, but the sad truth is that my old crimes have closed some doors that would otherwise be open for you. Studying at the conservatory in Alqualondë is one of them. You can study in Tirion instead. There are many fine musicians there who would be happy to teach you, and you have kin there as well: your mother's parents and her sister, several of my cousins, and my uncle Finarfin. It's a better choice."

"But I don't want to study in Tiron. I want to study in Alqualondë!"

"Alqualondë is not one of your choices, Tuilir. You may study in Tirion, if you wish, or you may remain here and continue your lessons with another tutor. Choose."

And so Tuilir went off to Tirion, leaving Maglor behind to worry.

*******

Dear Mother and Father,

Tirion is amazing! I knew you told me before I left that the city was big, but I had no idea how different it would be from home. There's so much to see and do here! Right now it all leaves my head spinning, but I'm sure once I know my way around a bit better I'm going to enjoy city life. Certainly the music scene is livelier here by far (even if the music schools are not as prestigious as the one I wished to attend).

Grandmother and Grandfather are nice, but I think they fuss over me too much. They told me they were delighted to finally meet me in person, and that they wished I had come to Tirion sooner. I've invited them to come visit us at home any time; I hope you don't mind. Oh, and they told me to send Mother their love. Mother, I think they'd like it if you wrote to them more often.

I haven't had a chance to meet any of your cousins yet, Father; school is keeping me very busy. And frankly I'm scared of your uncle Finarfin. I wouldn’t know what to say to the King of the Noldor if I did meet him! I'm still trying to get used to the idea that our family is actually important. I mean, I knew that, of course, but I actually didn't really know that until I came here. At home we're just ordinary. I think I like that better.

I have a music theory class coming up, so I'd better finish this letter now if it's going to make the post today. Take care. I miss you both.

Your loving daughter,
Tuilir

Dn1;ar Davghter,

I aqologize in abvancn1; for ny hanbvritimg, and hope yov bo not haue too harb a time dn1;ciqhering this ln1;tter. I'm haqqy to hn1;ar yov are emjoyimg Tirion so nuch. It is a deavtiful city, anb your taln1;mts will de grn1;atly aqqreciated thern1;. Yovr mothn1;r anb I niss yov, dut it vas omly natvral that you'b n1;ventvally vish to sqreab your wimgs amd fly auay fron ovr sleeqy uillagn1;. Anan is largn1;, and yov hawn1; sn1;n1;n wery littln1; of it; I rn1;gret I uas not adln1; to trawel vith yov uhen yov uere yovmg, as ny oun fahtn1;r omcn1; bib vith mn1;.

It vas goob of yov to imvitn1; yovr grandqarn1;mts to uisit ovr hone, but bo not dn1; too bisappointeb if thn1;y refvsn1; the invitatiom. Yovr mothn1;r has beem tryimg to comwince thn1;m to conn1; since dn1;fore yovr birth, with no svccn1;ss. Thn1;y puitn1; undvrstandably qrefer thn1;ir louely city to ovr oun rwstic tovn.

Yov neebn't de afraib fo ny vncln1; Finarfin. Hn1; boesm't bitn1; – mot yovng naibens, at amy ratn1;. Bvt bo not fn1;n1;l yov mvst call om hin (or amy of ny kin in Tiriom, for that nattn1;r). I knou thn1;y arn1; stramgers to yov, uhich is sonehtimg I also rn1;gret at tines. If yov bo chamcn1; to mn1;n1;t hin, vatch owt for his fish qvichn1;! It is trvly bisgvsting.

Yovr Fathn1;r, vho lown1;s yov nore than hn1; can n1;xqress im worbs.

Dear Father,

You were right about King Finarfin. He came to one of my school's concerts, quite unexpectedly, and so I was unable to avoid meeting him. I never thought a king would go around attending something as ordinary as a little private school concert, but I found out later one of his own sons' grandsons is a student here, and that's why he came. Once he found out who I was, he invited me to dinner, and I really couldn't say no – after all, his is technically my king. So I got to meet him, and Queen Eärwen, and also your cousins Finrod and Angrod, and Angrod's grandson (who plays the mandolin, and is awfully cute). They were all nice, and King Finarfin doesn't act much like a king at all when he's just with his family. I didn't know the Queen of the Noldor was actually a Teleri! Anyway, it was a nice evening, and I have a standing invitation to come back and visit with them all again. Grandmother and Grandfather were impressed, too. They seemed surprised our king was willing to speak with me. I guess that's understandable; I know I'm not much of a musician yet, and the king has a lot of closer relatives who probably take up a lot of his time. Still, we are family, and he probably knows I've never been to Tirion before, so I suppose that explains it. I'm grateful for his kindness.

Your daughter,
Tuilir

P.S. I thought the fish quiche was delicious!

Dn1;ar Dawghtn1;r,

Yov actwally likn1;b my wncln1;'s fish pvichn1;? Arn1; you svre yov are trwly ny chilb?

Yovr louimg Fahtn1;r, uho mewer covld managn1; to chokn1; doun morn1; tham a dite or tuo fo his wncln1;'s cookimg

Dear Mother and Father,

I have some exciting news, which I hope will not make you both too angry. I am writing this letter to you from Alqualondë!

I didn't know it at the time, but some instructors from the conservatory in Alqualondë were also attending my school's concert that day. A few days after the recital they came up to me and offered me a position at their school, assuring me that it was early enough in the year that a transfer would cause no difficulties. I wasn't sure I should accept, so I spoke with your uncle the King, who told me I should follow my heart and assured me that relations between the Teleri and the Noldor now are not as dire as you imagine them to be. I am sorry if my decision upsets you, but I really do believe King Finarfin is right, and that this is indeed the best choice in the long run (even if I do have to endure a few cold shoulders and harsh words from a few bigoted people).

Your loving daughter,
Tuilir (who is happier now than she can possibly say!)

Tvilir,

Go dack ot Tiriom, nou! This is mot a rn1;pun1;st.

Yovr Fathn1;r (vho is amgrin1;r wiht his wmcln1; tham hn1; is wiht yov, uhich is sayimg a lot)

To his Royal Highness Finarfin, the King,

While I appreciate your concern for my daughter Tuilir, I do not appreciate either your interference with her schooling or your encouragement of her inappropriate ambitions. Tuilir's life to this point has been a sheltered one; perhaps too sheltered, although I do not think a father can be faulted too severely for wishing to protect his child as much as possible from the harsher aspects of life. She has little real understanding of what happened at the docks of Alqualondë on that terrible day so many long Ages ago, and I do not wish to see her hurt by something out of the distant past she had no part in and cannot change. I therefore arranged for her musical education to take place in Tirion, where her birth would be less likely to be held against her, rather than Alqualondë, a city which I know is unlikely to ever extend a warm welcome to any grandchild of Fëanor, however innocent.

I have written to my daughter and ordered her to return to your city at once. When she does so, please see that she remains there, and do not encourage any further acts of rebellion on her part. If when she comes of age she still wishes to pursue this folly, I will of course stand aside, but until that day arrives it is my wishes which will prevail in this matter.

Your devoted subject and nephew,
Maglor

"Thank you for scribing that, Aurel. It's one thing for me to inflict my wretched writing on my daughter, quite another to send the King a letter that looks as though it was penned by an illiterate," Maglor said as he watched his wife fold the paper over and seal it. "My uncle knows the Teleri; I cannot believe he encouraged our daughter –"

"As you say, husband, he knows the Teleri. Perhaps we made the wrong decision when we forbade her to go?" Aurel replied quietly. "Our Aewen's not a small child any more, Káno, and it's cruel to clip a bird's wings just because you're worried about where it might fly."

"That's beside the point. Right decision or wrong one, it was ours, and not his, to make," Maglor answered rather heatedly.

"It seems to me that it was our daughter, and not your uncle, who ultimately made the decision, Káno," Aurel answered. "Finarfin didn't order her to go. I think there is little point in sending this letter. Our daughter's going to do as she wills, and there's not much we or your uncle the King are going to be able to do about it in the end. Have you thought about what you are going to do if Tuilir refuses to return to Tirion?"

"She won't refuse," Maglor said. "I just hope that she returns to Tirion before the anger of the Teleri shreds her heart too badly. Send the letter."

Dear Father,

Like it or not (and I'm sure you don't), I am staying here in Alqualondë.

Your daughter,
Tuilir (who is sorry to upset you)

To my nephew Maglor,

I remember another youngster, long ago, who was determined to go his own way and study music despite the wishes of his father, who wanted the boy to complete an apprenticeship in smithcraft "for his own good." Your father was wrong then, though he no doubt meant well; I believe you are making a similar mistake now. Your daughter Tuilir is no fragile bloom to be cosseted from the harsh spring winds; she is a descendent of Finwë, and shares the family toughness. Not that she will need it. The Teleri's mood has softened over the long years since the Kinslaying; they will not hold an innocent young woman's parentage against her, knowing as they do that her own hands are clean. I would not have permitted my young kinswoman to go to Alqualondë had I thought it would be otherwise.

(You really should have introduced her to the rest of the family years ago, you know. How are the Noldor ever going to come together again as one people if you and your brothers insist on hiding in that desolate hole up north? Know that you are welcome in Tirion, nephew, should you ever feel the urge to return home.)

Your uncle,
Finarfin

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Chapter End Notes

Fëa – "Soul"

Káno – A shortened form of Maglor's Quenya father-name Kanafinwë.

The idea that Alqualondë boasts a fine music school (at which Maglor studied during his youth) is cheerfully stolen from Dawn Felegund's novel "Another Man's Cage."