Tyelkormo's Great Escape by Aprilertuile

Out there

The sky wasn’t yet flooded by the warm golden light of Laurelin when Tyelkormo started on his way, leaving a letter of thanks behind. He had thought he’d be burdened without his horse for company, but in fact, it was freeing to know his horse would be taken care of, and would be happier in the village than with him out there.

He really should have left his horse in Tirion. Or at home in the first place. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry… Oh well, there was no changing the past.

He was whistling happily as he set on his way, although he remained guarded as wolves and great cats and bears lived in the area.

He wasn’t too worried about that: he had his weapons on him, as always when he wasn’t in Tirion, and felt pretty secure about the fact he wasn’t those creatures’ usual prey and they should have, in theory, no reason to attack him.

He walked for half the day when he suddenly felt something he usually only felt when he was with Oromë’s Hunt.

He was feeling hunted.

Now the question was… By What or Whom?

Tyelkormo hid his noticeable hair under his hood, climbed a tree and sat there, out of sight, before closing his eyes, focusing on the area immediately around him.

He felt nothing out of the ordinary. No animal out there was paying any attention to him.

Tyelkormo focused on himself and… Yes, there it was. The family bound he had with his mother.

She very clearly knew of his escape and she also very clearly was on the war path… And closer than he wished: if he felt that feeling so clearly then she was really not as far as Tirion, even if she was not as close as the village.

No doubt she learnt by now that he took the northern gate of Tirion to leave. He should have taken another. Or should have bribed Findekáno to keep his mouth shut as that was most likely her information source here.

And no doubt that if she followed his trail she’d end up at the village where he left his horse and where people knew of his plans… Would they talk to his mother or not? 

Alright then. Time to change his plans, just in case.

He checked the area thoroughly and seeing that he was still alone, he jumped down from the tree, and careful to leave no traces, he changed his path. Instead of going North-West toward the nearest river and Námo’s halls area, he went North-East, being as careful as he learnt to with the Hunt to leave absolutely no trace of his passage.

He would not make it easy, and he would certainly not give up and go back to be paraded like an object to sell to the highest bidder.

If she wanted a puppet she could dress up and throw at the first girl she found suitable, she needed to find another because he refused to play that role.

Being that careful slowed his path, but slowly, slowly, he felt the feeling of being hunted disappear.

Either his mother had gotten clever about it, which wasn’t usually her way but wasn’t entirely out of the question, or he had gotten away by leaving no trace for her to follow which was more likely but not something he wanted to bet his immediate future on.

He didn’t relax, and remained very, very careful to not leave any trace for anyone and anything to follow.

It has been days since he left home, but mere days, even a couple of weeks, would not dull his mother’s temper. He knew that from experience. The more discreet he’d make himself the better it’d be.

Now, anyone and anything hunting for him would be met with the full skills of a Hunter of Oromë who didn’t want to be found, and good luck to them.

Once again he found himself being endlessly grateful for the teaching of the Master of the Hunt. He had no idea how others could live without all those skills.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that being caught wasn’t something he wanted to live with: if only for the lectures and endless marriage talk and all, he had to admit that it was rather nice. Going out, on his own, and visiting the north.

He usually only went here in the summer months but really in winter it had its charms.

The dulled gold of Laurelin was less strong here than in Tirion, probably because the hills and mountains were creating a sort of barrier that affected the quality and strength of the light without cancelling it completely yet, and the clouds overhead, threatening and heavy with water, were giving it all a feeling of what Tyelkormo was far more willing to call winter.

Honestly by this weather he’d love to be home with a hot spicy tea at hand, and a book to read or something similar. It felt like that sort of weather.

It was the kind of things they never got in Tirion.

But alas he had no home in the area to hole up in and so he continued walking, until he found himself in a charming little natural grove, hidden deep between high hills. He wasn’t sure he was far enough to spend the winter there without being bothered, but he could at least certainly spend the night there, under the protection of the local trees.

The place was honestly lovely, and in the sky above, he could almost see the stars through the faded light of Telperion.