Tyelkormo's Great Escape by Aprilertuile

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The village

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Tyelkormo couldn’t be happier when he arrived in sight of the village.

It wasn’t even for his own sake since the cold wasn’t bothering Tyelkormo all that much. No. But his horse apparently hated the cold and held a grudge. That creature was spoiled.

Twice so far the horse tried to throw him in a muddy half frozen pond they passed by. Once Tyelkormo avoided falling from his horse, and once he fell but caught himself well enough so that he mostly avoided the mud.

Additionally, Tyelkormo was pretty sure that he learnt new vocabulary just listening to his horse’s swearing at him.

The animal needed to get into a stable until the weather turned warmer, before it actually managed to throw Tyelkormo into half-frozen mud or made his ears ring with endless profanities until spring.

The leader of the village was one of his people. The elf was actually a worshipper of Yavanna, and held the Valar’s laws in utmost respect, meaning he utterly disdained Finwë for having remarried, and his faith meant he was at odds with Fëanor’s own lack of anything resembling respect for the Valar. The elf had contacted him himself to give him his allegiance when it started to be a well-known rumor that he was one of Oromë’s Hunters.

The fact that he was one of his would perhaps help him tremendously to find a warm stable for his horse, or possibly would earn him a lecture or ten on the insidious forms of abuse of power.

Or knowing his mother’s ability to hold a grudge, perhaps both.

Regardless, Tyelkormo approached the elf with a smile, his horse in tow.

The elf looked surprised to see Tyelkormo arrive without a word of warning in this season.

“I apologize for the surprise arrival. I was wondering… Would you perchance have a place in a stable for a willful, badly tempered mare with an absolutely foul mouth?”

The other blinked at that, his expression settling on mildly amused:

“I’m afraid that only those who follow lord Oromë are likely to understand animals on such levels, none of us here would hear her ‘foul mouth’, your highness.”

Tyelkormo grimaced.

“May I beg you to not do that? I’m… Just here as a traveler. I’m really not supposed to be here in the first place.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I’m escaping Tirion and avoiding the crowd and… You know…”

“In this weather?!”

“The plan is actually for me to go further north, but my horse is being difficult. She doesn’t like the cold apparently. I can pay for her to be taken care of, if you have a space for her in the village…”

“We have the space of course, but she’ll be lodged with the sheep.”

“That’s fine. She’s usually pretty friendly, she won’t mind the company. It’s just that she seems to hate the cold and decided to make me pay for the fact I took her north in winter.” Tyelkormo answered laughingly.

“Honestly, my lord, I have no idea why you bothered coming here in this season. Most people hate coming our way and you could have gone absolutely anywhere at all on Valinor to escape Tirion.”

“It’s precisely because most people hate it that I’m here.”

Talking, Tyelkormo was led to a large barn already taken by a number of sheep. The place was far warmer than outside and the horse just left Tyelkormo’s side as soon as the elf took her blanket and his bags from her.

“She’s already happier here than she was with me. Spoiled thing.” Tyelkormo muttered.

That made the other smile with amusement.

“You know, most people would agree with your little lady here. That’s why most people don’t settle out there so far north.”

“For the occasion I really need to go further north.”

“Do you know what path to take to stay safe?”

Tyelkormo bit back the instinctual answer of “it’s Valinor, it’s all safe” that he grew up hearing when outside of the family and that he mostly grew out of when he started to ride in Oromë’s train.

The Hunters of Oromë rarely remained all that safe.

Alas, some reflexes were hard to lose.

“I was thinking of hiking toward the river and following it until I reach a place I can stay until spring.”

“Just for the record, when you say a place you can stay until spring, you mean a place livable by our standard as noldor, or by the standard of the Hunt of Oromë?”

“Definitely by the standard of the Hunt.” Tyelkormo answered laughingly.

“Right. Of course it’s what you mean... Do you need additional supplies?”

“I should be good with what I have.”

“If you are sure…”

The skepticism in the other’s voice was somewhat amusing to Tyelkormo.

He was quite sure that everyone was going to react much the same when the news would spread, and sadly it was really a matter of ‘when’ and not of ‘if’. Makalaurë was going to have fun with it, but oh well… He did owe his brother for this, after all. He could hardly begrudge him his fun considering the help he gave him in escaping the seasonal matchmaking.

There was a short moment of silence and the local lord finally sighed:

“Please my lord, at the very least stay until tomorrow morning so that I can reasonably say that you’ll be safe on the path you’ll take instead of fumbling in the dark. And before you say it, no, having one of your father’s lamps will not help you much if you’re out there at night.”

“I’d hate to take space…”

“There’s a free bed for travelers in the barn. No one is using it and it’ll be warm.”

Tyelkormo weighed his options but sighed.

“You’re going to be stubborn about this aren’t you?”

“I will not. I will however go get my wife who will convince you by virtue of being far more stubborn.”

Tyelkormo snorted in amusement.

“Alright then, the barn it is.”

“Excellent. You can also discuss monetary settlement for the upkeep of this little lady this winter with my wife, it’s her trade more than mine.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.”