From good to bad by Aprilertuile

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Tirion

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And the seven brothers obeyed. They gathered their people, what belongings they didn’t want to leave behind… among which their weapons, and they left Formenos.

Tyelkormo felt that they travelled for far too many days but could have been the usual time for all he knew. The only companion he kept close to him in that was Huan. Every time one of his brothers threatened to approach him to talk about why he had been crying after confronting Oromë, he redirected them or found himself something extremely urgent to do with their people.

No, he really didn’t want to talk, and Huan was his best companion. Supportive as ever, adorable because Huan was never not adorable (despite his mother’s opinion on the inconsequential matter of wet dog and carpets) and most of all, he was silent and not trying to force him to talk.

Frankly they had other subjects of preoccupation at this time than his faith in Oromë being shaken, thank you very much.  

But he regretted to have lost his usual points of reference with the loss of the trees.

That might well be the only reason he even cared slightly about the trees now.

If they had been honest, he would have pitied the Valar for that loss. He would even have empathised with their demand for the Silmarils to help but what they did…

What they did and what they didn’t do. Tyelkormo had no hint that the Valar were doing anything regarding their fallen peer.  

And upon their arrival in Tirion, people gathered at his father’s call. And oh, how he knew to speak… He spread his anger. He spread his grief.

“Why, O people of the Noldor, why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy?” Fëanáro spoke. “And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father’s slayer and of the thief of my treasure. Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have ye not all lost your King? And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?”

The people were giving rapt attention, stirring at his father’s words and Tyelkormo’s heart followed suit, though it was still bleeding with the hurt of betrayal.

“Here once was light…”

His father was good. He himself just wanted to leave as far away from this place as possible. He didn’t care for the rest.

From where he stood, Tyelkormo could see Makalaurë pay rapt attention to their father, he could almost see him memorising it all.

There would be songs soon enough about this whole thing.

And long their father talked. Tyelkormo’s attention was spent more on trying to see if there was in the crowd people he knew. If perhaps a Maia or Vala had come instead of staying hidden in their respective territories.

“Fair shall the end be!” Caught his attention.

Fair?! Finwë’s end hadn’t been very fair at all. Painful probably. Bloody certainly. Ugly totally. But fair? No end will be fair in a land controlled by their ennemy. That, Tyelkormo was sure of.

But his father kept talking, and spoke an oath. A powerful oath that called on Eru himself.

Tyelkormo didn’t think. When his father stopped talking he leaped along his brothers, repeating the oath.

“Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,”

Sadly, to hunt with Oromë as often as he did was an engagement. One sealed with… a vow…

To Oromë. To a Vala who considered the loss of an elf at the hand of his brother, nothing to speak about. Who thought that the loss of the trees that only helped those living on Valinor in the first place more important than the loss of one they had sworn protection to once upon a time.

His father’s oath was going against everything he learnt at Oromë’s side. Against his vow to Oromë’s Hunt.

“Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself,”

“I swear to fulfil to the best of my ability and judgement, this covenant: I will allow no harm to come to those under the protection of the Woods.”

He was going to cry.  Or he was going to laugh hysterically if he kept thinking on that. One or the other.

“shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth, a Silmaril. This swear we all:”

 “No life shall be disrespected by my actions.”

 “death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou,”

“I will uphold the Laws and rites of the Wood.”

 “Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth.”

“No life shall be taken and reaped lightly, for to bring death is a responsibility I shall not make light of in the name of my lord Oromë.”

“On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda!”

“I will tread with care in matters of life and death. Above all I shall accept the consequences shall I break the Laws of the Woods or forswear the rites of the Hunt.”

And oh he could bet there would be consequences. He would surely be first to die in the attempt. He was a hunter… Who spoke an oath that betrayed his first vow as a follower of Oromë…

He could feel upon him the worried gaze of some of his brothers. Ambarussa of course and Curufin. They knew.

He chose to ignore them for the moment.

He could see people in the crowd react in fear at the oath they all spoke, but it was done. An oath couldn’t be broken. An oath would follow you anywhere you went.  

But of course, Fëanáro wasn’t the only one capable of speeches, and Nolofinwë spoke and so did Finarfin, and the people divided, and most seemed to prefer Nolofinwë’s house to that of Fëanáro.

It was logical, Tyelkormo thought. His father has been in exile for years while Nolofinwë was acting king. His father was known to speak harshly while Nolofinwë was a politician first and foremost. Of course people loved him more.

And again the Valar spoke, sending their Herald to convince the people to not leave.

So not only were they tools to the Valar, they were also dolls to stay put and dance only to their tune. It filled Tyelkormo with wrath though he kept his peace. He would do more harm than good in talking now and he knew that.

Through all that, he had a hand buried in the fur of Huan. The poor dog must be tired of being used as support.

Perhaps he should ask Huan to go back to Oromë.

At least he’d have the guarantee Huan would be safe. It’s not like Oromë was riding to war anyway.

When finally they left Tirion, they were exiled yet again, this time by their oath, how unsurprising.

And pointless.

Even had the Valar said nothing their oath wouldn’t have allowed them to stay here anyway. It seemed the valar were too afraid of them staying nearby to leave it to their oath.

Oh well, they were used to it.

As they started to march north, their mother arrived.

“Nerdanel.” Fëanáro greeted her.

“Your actions are folly.” She warned him.

“My actions are just.”

Her eyes fell in turn on each of her sons, before turning back to her husband:

“You cannot fail to see you can only fail and go to your death. You and all our sons. At least leave Ambarussa with me. They are too young. At least one of them Fëanáro! Leave them with me in peace and safety!”

Tyelkormo didn’t need to look at his brothers to know they felt like he did.

Well perhaps the Valar had a point in treating them like they didn’t matter. After all their own mother seemed to think the only sons of any import was their twin brothers, the rest of them could go die in Endorë cheerfully after all.

Huan whined softly at his side, and he leaned over him, whispering soft apologies as he relaxed his fingers in the fur of the poor dog.

And while he did that he missed their father’s answer to their mother’s demand. It didn’t matter anyway: Even if the twins had wanted to stay there, they couldn’t. They swore the oath as they all did. They couldn’t betray it. Or they could, technically, but not without consequences.

If their mother wanted to keep her twin sons, she’d have to leave Valinor with them… And that she refused to, and Tyelkormo didn’t know if it was a curse or a blessings.

Their family was already broken…

They continued North with their people, leaving the planning to Fëanáro. Their father knew what he wanted exactly. It was better to leave him to it than to interrupt him and risk his wrath over nothing.