Toward Beleriand by Aprilertuile

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on the ship

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On the ship bearing them away from Aman, Tyelkormo was taking care of Huan, trying to brush the blood out of the calm dog’s fur.

He had helped on the ship at first with what he could but now there was little he could do, and so he was just sitting under the rain, out of the way of people. He was on the same ship than Carnistir and Curufinwë who pretended to be more useful so far. Not like any of them knew anything about ships apart from the fact they floated on water.  

And if the rain hid his tears, then no one was there to notice it. Frankly more people were busy trying to make sure the storm wouldn't sink the ship than paying attention to him.

He had killed before, of course: he was a hunter, that’s what he did. Part of it at least. But killing animals was… different.

He was pretty sure that one of those that came to confront him harpoon in hand was a cousin on Arafinwë’s side of the family. He could still hear the accusations in his ears, and feel the blood on his hands.

Poor Huan had been so confused during the confrontation.

Confrontation, what a stupid word. It was a massacre, no more, no less.

A massacre on the altar of… What?

To avenge the one death how many deaths had they provoked just there? And, sure, it hadn’t been a choice really, not on his side.

There had been a melee, and they pushed on toward the ships only to be pushed back again, and again, and people were tired, people were getting hurt, people were getting desperate, mostly because people were still listening to his father’s voice and Fëanáro still induced that desperate need to go and to go now in people.

Tyelkormo didn’t know, hadn’t seen, who had drawn the first sword, if he was honest, it was probably his father or someone his father pushed too far, but once blood had spilt this way, everyone followed for the teleri also started to answer in kind with harpoons and boat hooks and whatever they could find.

Lords, he was pretty sure that the firsts of them to die had died drowned in the harbour, pushed off a ship by the teleri.

That’s what happened when someone wore metal armour and weapons and was pushed in the water. One didn’t swim with metal armour. Whether that had been before or after teleri started to die… That, he couldn’t say.

The Valar seemed to think Teleri started to die first, so it was probably true. He could see it too. The melee had been violent in the first place even before swords were drawn.  

Someone had thrown a stone at him and it’s only luck he wasn’t hit on the head. He was pretty sure it’d have been enough to make quite a lot of damages, and it wasn’t the first stone used, nor the only thing used to beat each other up. Not even counting people were pushing each other and if someone lost their footing they were pretty much guaranteed to be trampled by an uncaring crowd.

It’d take a Vala to be able to retrace who died first at who’s hands, honestly.

“I know we needed to go quickly, Huan. I know. For dad right? And grand-father Finwë.”

At least he hadn’t used his bow against elves. For some reason, using the bow Oromë had gifted him against elves seemed… No.

He was aware that killing elves was a terrible thing. Let that terrible thing be on his sword, not the bow gifted by a Vala.

Even if the Valar were complacent and if they had actually done their duties they wouldn’t have ended up in his situation…

“So, ready to talk now?” Curufinwë asked approaching Tyelkormo who sighed.

“What is there to talk about?”

“First were you injured?”

“No.”

Curufinwë nodded, sitting near him.

“What about your allegiance to Oromë?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t take me for a fool. You have a vow to him. Will it hold? What does it say? How will it affect you going forward?”

“Yes it holds, what it says isn’t your concern, and how it’ll affect me… I guess we’ll see.”

“Tyelko…”

“Curufinwë. In case you didn’t notice, us kinslayer have been cursed by Námo. You think my vow to Oromë will do anything the curse won’t do first?”

Curufinwë’s mouth turned downward.

“You made a mistake swearing that vow anyway. Dad was never going to accept it.”

“Dad would have at least, once upon a time, learnt to live with it.”

“No, he wouldn’t have.”

“Alright, let me amend that. Dad would have ignored it wilfully all the while making angry statement about the Valar in general or Oromë in particular until I got either sick of it to the point I’d leave any room dad would be in or until I’d start an argument with him. It’s only since he made his Silmarils that he worsened so drastically on the subject of the Valar that he’d have probably thrown me out of Formenos if he had known about the vow and… everything.”

“Yes, well, dad wasn’t wrong, was he?  Your vala is just like the others. I didn’t exactly see your Oromë run to fight Melkor or help us leave Aman.”

Tyelkormo sighed.

“No, indeed, you didn’t.”

And yet, even if Oromë had wanted to, how would they, mere elves, have known? It’s not like they were in on the secret conversations of the valar. For all they knew Oromë had argued in their favour. Of course, for all they know, Oromë hadn’t argued in their favour either. He couldn’t argue the point one way or another.

Tyelkormo sighed: faith, uh? Funny how that worked.

“So…?”

“So what?”

“So you made a mistake in trusting him and giving him you allegiance and so much of your time.” Curufinwë pointed out.

Tyelkormo fell silent at that. Was it a mistake?

Because on the scale from Zero to massacring an entire city to steal a few ships, even the Valar not reacting to Finwë’s death didn’t seem that terrible a sin anymore. Terrible on a personal level, sure, bad taste, certainly, absolutely dreadful sense of propriety, totally, but…

“So…?”

“Curufinwë…” Tyelkormo sighed.

“We need to know the vow you gave that vala so we know what…”

“You need to know nothing at all, brother mine. My vows were always my problem only remember? What was it you said back then? You never want to know anything about my folly? Then stick to it brother mine.”

“I just… Tyelko…”

“I know you are afraid of what the future will bring us, but some of us have been aware of the possibility of our death for long enough that this is old news. You don’t hunt with Oromë without expecting some danger. Sure I never actually saw anyone die but it was always a possibility. Let me deal with my shit, and deal with your own instead.”

“My shit? I’m perfectly fine.”

“Uhu, and so your perfectly fine self threw up after the fighting stopped because…?”

Curufinwë shivered at that and looked away.

Tyelkormo nodded quietly with a sharp smile:

“That’s what I thought. Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Then don’t bother me with Oromë. Whatever happens is my problem.”

“Is there any way the two oaths won’t be in conflict?”

“I’ll see.”

Honestly they were probably already in conflict. The whole not disrespecting life on one side facing with the whole kill indiscriminately anyone withholding a Silmaril would never match.

He was getting a serious headache now. Tyelkormo leant against Huan who readily let his master circle his form with his arms.

At his side, Curufinwë had fallen silent, tensing at every crash of thunder and every movement of the ship.

Yes, there was a chance they wouldn’t make it to shore if that continued. Tyelkormo guessed it’d mean they’d get thrown into the Void as a result. Quickest failure ever made.

At least Huan was still with him, he thought as he pressed his face against the wet fur of the dog.