It was almost dark as the cloaked figure came waddling through the garden on unsteady legs, the clouds were dark and dense and blotted out the light of Laurelin and it was good that way, it was what he wanted. Less chance of being seen by anyone, no, nobody should see him, nobody could know of this. He needed to bathe, to sleep, to forget. And in the morning he would tell them he had fallen off his horse or something, they couldn't see the truth, nobody should ever know the truth. He was shivering, barely able to stand up, sweat pouring off him and he wanted to be gone, to forget, to seize to exist. It was burning in him, the shame, the guilt and more than anything else the horrible terrible feeling of having been betrayed, heartbroken.
He stumbled through the familiar garden, searching for the door to his room, the skin of his face felt raw and sore and his eyes were still stinging with tears. He choked his sobs, it was still too much for him, he couldn't really understand it, that it was real, that it had happened. How did it happen, what deeds had he done which made him deserve this? He had to have erred in some way, had he said something wrong? Had he somehow given the wrong signals? For he hadn't wanted this, no, absolutely not, or had he? He was sucking on his lip, his heart thundering in his chest, he couldn't go back, ever. He couldn't face him again, knowing what had been done to him, by him. If he told anyone they would know, they would see how filthy he was, what a disgrace and shame he was to their family name. It would have been better if he had died, but he didn't want to die out there, in the woods. He wanted his home, his bed, his ammë.
He could barely see the doorhandle, tried desperately to grasp onto it and push the door open but his strength was failing him and then he heard it, the sound he dreaded most of all this night, the sound of a voice speaking his name. " Tyelkormo? Why are you out so late?"
Damnation, it was his older brother Makalaurë, he had to have been sitting in the garden, composing some ballad or something. He hadn't seen him at all and panic rushed through the trembling body. " It…it is none of your business"
Makalaurë stared at his younger brother, the voice was so hoarse, distorted, there was a metallic scent coming from him that Makalaurë did recognize and he felt his heart drop within his chest. "Tyelko?"
He put a hand on his brothers shoulder and felt him tremble, felt how his brother winced, pulled away from him. He tried to push the door open again, desperately, Makalaurë looked down, his brother was barefoot, his feet and legs muddy and bloody and he suddenly realized that Tyelko had to be naked underneath the dirty cloak. He grasped onto the hood, pulled it down with a yank and Tyelko made a whimpering sobbing sound and collapsed. " No, no no no!"
Makalaurë stared down at his brother with eyes that went wide with disbelief, and shock, then he threw his head back, called out with all of his might. "Atya! Come quick!"
It had started some years earlier, with his meeting with Oromë and the start of his apprenticeship. He had been so excited, so happy. It had been the greatest day of his life and he had wept with joy. His father had been so proud of him, and that feeling was something he couldn't get enough of, the warmth he felt inside when his father looked at him with that particular expression in his eyes of endless love and pride. It had been wonderful, he hadn't yet come of age, and was really too young yet but he wanted to learn and he had this strong urge to discover and explore new things. His affection for animals and the woods was second to none and so it wasn't such a hard choice to make. Oromë was proud of him too, yes he was strict and demanding and you couldn't do any mistakes without them being pointed out to you rather harshly but he did learn quickly and his mistakes were few.
He loved the forest, the hunt, the horses and hounds and the freedom of the wild woods. He thrived and would return home with a beaming grin, hair tangled up and dirt everywhere and yet as happy as a cat with a huge bowl of cream. Everybody said that he was such a trusting young ellon, that there wasn't a mean bone in his body. He greeted everybody with the same open hearted trust and his mother would often kiss his cheek and proclaim that he carried his feelings so openly everybody could see them.
It had been good like that for years, now he was getting nearer the ending of his apprenticeship and so Oromë often let him train with some of his maiar. He had liked that at first, they were friendly and fun and they were nowhere near as strict and demanding as their master. He could make jokes with them and just be himself and it felt like a new form of freedom. He was already his full adult height and he was getting more muscular and strong, soon he would be regarded as an adult too and he was looking forward to it. He would be respected then, and his two older brothers wouldn't tease him as much, or at least he hoped that they wouldn't.
Everybody said that he was pretty, that he was the fairest of the brothers. Oh his oldest brother was handsome, taller than anyone else and so majestic. Moving like a great cat and a master at conversation and leadership. And Makalaurë was talented and beautiful in his own way but he was said to be fair, it was the hair, he was sure of it. The shining silvery locks and his blue eyes, a heritage from his father's mother. The female maiar would flirt with him just as the ellith would and he would blush and feel embarrassed and yet a bit proud of himself.
He hadn't yet met anyone he really liked in that particular way yet, but he wanted to, oh how he wanted to. He would wake up in the middle of the night having dreamed of some pretty elleth he had met and to his shame he would usually have soiled his sheets. His father had sat down with him to have that awkward little conversation when his body started to change and so it wasn't a shock to him but he felt like he was ready to lay down and die the first time his mother discovered those sticky stains on his sheets.
Then something had changed, slowly at first, so slowly he hadn't really understood it to begin with. He was still in so many ways a child, naïve and trusting and he had no reason to suspect that anyone was doing anything but wishing him well. He had been introduced to yet another of Oromës maiar, a tall dark haired one by the name of Ehtar. He was everything that Tyelkormo wanted to be, and he soon idolized the maia. Ehtar would show him the forest and its inhabitants in a way Oromë never did, claiming that Tyelko surely was old enough for it. He was being treated like an equal more than an apprentice and he was so proud when Ehtar praised him and ruffled his hair just like his father would do when he was very pleased.
Ehtar would let him do things the others didn't, and he would always praise him and tell him he was the best apprentice they had ever had. How he was longing for those words, coveting them. He was still a bit unsure of himself and he didn't realize that Ehtar knew this and knew it well. Slowly he started to spend more time with Ehtar than the others, he felt safe, loved and cherished and most of all he felt valued for who he was. Not for being a grandson of Finwë, not for being the son of Fëanor the brilliant, but for being just Tyelko.
It had started to dawn upon him one evening, they had been out tracking some deer and it was warm so they had taken a bath. It was just him and Ehtar and they had found a pond in the forest and lay there relaxing. Tyelkormo felt just as at ease with this maia as he did with his brothers except that Ehtar didn't tease him or treat him like a child. In a way he worshiped Ehtar almost as much as his father. They had been splashing around having fun and Ehtar had asked him if he had noticed that one of the ellith serving at Oromës palace had a small crush on him. Tyelkormo had blushed almost violently and denied of having as much as seen that ellith and Ehtar had described her for him, and done it in such a way that Tyelkormo to his shock had reacted to the mental images Ehtar conjured up.
He was sporting a raging hard on and had laid down on his stomach in the sand, trying to hide his misery. Ehtar had to have understood somehow, or perhaps it had been the plan the whole time. He sat down next to Tyelkormo and chatted away about some very sexy ellith he had been spying on and the young ellon had suffered. Ehtar had smiled, that comforting relaxing smile that always made him feel cherished, loved even. "Oh, I see that my line of talk is bothering you, I am sorry."
Tyelkormo had just managed to make a sort of a smile, all he could see was the images that were spinning around in his head, he was just at that age when his hormones were raging and he wished that he had been alone, so he could have sought release and been done with it. Ehtar cocked his head, then he ruffled his hair again, very gently. "I can help you, it is no big deal really, you look as though you are in a lot of discomfort."
Tyelkormo had stuttered, feeling confused and a bit in shock. "W…W…What?!"
" After all, you are here with me to learn so why shouldn't I teach you this too?"
The voice was low, husky and there was something within it that made him feel nervous all of a sudden, something dark. " Ah..I…I…I don't know…"
Ehtar had started running his hand up and down his back, slowly and gently and it felt so good and yet it felt just wrong. " Relax, see this as another lesson."
Tyelkormo had felt trapped, confused. Was this right? Should he let his teacher do this? You should always obey your teachers shouldn't you, would it be wrong of him if he tried to resist? Ehtar had kissed the back of his neck, run his fingers through the long silvery golden hair and his voice had been low, spinning and powerful, speaking of pleasures the young elf yet hadn't experienced. He had been so uncertain, so shocked. Gentle hands turned him around and Ehtar had kissed him, for real, on his lips. Not on his brow like his father or mother would, or Oromë when he had done exceptionally well.
And the voice, in his head, making images he couldn't escape, making him whimper with a need that was burning hotter than the embers of his father's forge. Skilled fingers caressed him, played with his nipples until pleasure shot through his body, gathered in his groin. He felt so embarrassed and shocked he wanted to cry but at the same time it felt so good. Oh Eru how good it felt, Ehtar was creating these pictures in his head, of naked ellith, writhing and showing him everything and he could only gasp and whimper and surrender.
Ehtar played him with just as much skill as his brother when he played his lyre and he almost passed out when the maia suddenly started to caress his balls while licking and sucking his cock. He let out a wailing cry and then he came, so hard he feared it would stop his heart and yet it was the most fantastic feeling ever.
When he managed to gather his senses Ehtar sat there beside him, smiling gently like before, as if this had been nothing, just something casual and normal. "Feeling better? That is great Tyelko, care to go for another swim?"
Tyelkormo had nodded, feeling terribly shy all of a sudden, there was a sensation of doubt growing inside of him, surely Ehtar had done it just to be kind right? It had felt wonderful and it was really kind of him to help Tyelkormo get a release from that bothersome need. After all, the maiar didn't look at such activities the same way as others, or did they? He was in doubt, and he felt that it had been wrong somehow. But he felt good, very good in fact. He had joined Ehtar in the water and decided not to mention this again, it had been an act of compassion surely. To help him ease down, relax. He ought to be grateful.
Some weeks later he had been out in the woods with Ehtar once more and the same thing had happened, Ehtar claimed that he wanted to teach Tyelkormo some more and he had surrendered, although very reluctantly. It felt so wrong, why he didn't know but Ehtar was so demanding, so domineering. He didn't dare to protest, not even once. The idea of obedience towards your superiors and elders were deeply rooted within him, he didn't dare to speak up. Ehtar did the same thing as the last time, made him come but not just once. The maia coaxed three orgasms out of him and when he laid there completely spent, panting and exhausted he demanded that Tyelkormo returned the favor.
At first he had been appalled, terrified and disgusted. He had no sensation of attraction towards the male form and the very idea made him cringe. But Ehtar told him that he was a very ungrateful young thing if he didn't, and that he surely would tell his master of Tyelkormo's disobedience.
He had surrendered, he had tried to do the same for Ehtar as he had done for Tyelkormo but it had made him nauseous and he had almost choked. But Ehtar had grasped onto his hair, forced him to continue, to take that huge length and girth far down his throat. He hadn't dared to move, his instincts had been screaming at him to try to break free but he couldn't, he had to obey, to please.
Finally Ehtar had filled his mouth with bitter and hot sticky liquid and Tyelkormo had almost puked, he felt like the most wretched creature in the world, wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Ehtar had caressed him, praised him for doing well, for being a good lad, so beautiful, so good. There was nothing wrong in this, just two friends having some fun together, for they were friends right? Ehtar was sure that nobody had such a good friend as him.
Tyelkormo had listened to the words, perhaps it wasn't that bad, perhaps he was just overreacting? Surely he was, when Ehtar said this was normal it had to be, he was just so very naïve, so uneducated. But Ehtar would teach him what it truly meant to be an adult and he felt a small surge of pride rushing through him at the kind soothing words.
He hadn't told anyone though, hadn't dared to. And it happened again, Ehtar would pleasure him with his hands or mouth and he would surrender and then he had to do the same to his teacher. He was so glad when Ehtar praised him, when he told Oromë what a truly nice and skilled young ellon he was, a real gem among elves. He could have died for those words, for the sensation of being treated as an adult, for being heard. He had told Ehtar all of his secrets, all of his dreams and Ehtar had listened, answered with kind words and advice and Tyelkormo hadn't realized that the maia had turned his thoughts in a dangerous direction. After a few weeks Ehtar was the only one he did confide in, he didn't speak that much to his mother anymore and he acted as if everything was just as before. But it wasn't, he had a secret, one he didn't want others to take part in.
Ehtar had created a sensation of isolation within him, of being alone and yet at the same time offered the solution. Tyelkormo had become more and more dependent upon the maia, letting him take the place his family would have had earlier. His parents were busy with their work and didn't notice but Makalaurë did. He sensed that something was off with his brother and he noticed that Tyelkormo had become withdrawn and quiet.
It still felt wrong, it felt dirty somehow, but Ehtar said it was alright and that they had something special, something good that only they shared. He had grown afraid of letting anyone know, Ehtar said that their friendship would end if he did and Tyelkormo was so afraid of losing a friend, of hurting anyone. Ehtar had told him a lot of secrets, of things he said others couldn't know anything about and Tyelkormo was too young yet to understand what Ehtar was doing. Oromë didn't suspect a thing, he found it endearing that his servant took so good care of this very promising young ellon. He failed to see the shadow that was growing in the young elf's eyes, the fear and the self-loathing.
He was afraid now, afraid to do what he formerly had loved, every time he ventured into the woods with his mentor he knew that something would happen, something one part of him hungered for and another and greater stronger part hated. But he had always been taught to face his fears, a scion of the house of Finwë was never afraid, never a coward. He had to show his courage, and it did feel good, didn't it? At least the things Ehtar did to him felt nice, in a way. He had started to doubt things even more now, started to awaken to the realization that Ehtar didn't do it for him, but for himself and himself alone. And it hurt, it hurt terribly. He trusted Ehtar the same way as he had used to trust his father and family and now he was gradually realizing that his trust was being abused, that he was being taken advantage of.
He wished to tell anyone, but he couldn't. He couldn't confess to what he had done for he knew that his father would be so disappointed, so hurt and he didn't want that, no, not for all in the world. But it hurt, it hurt like fire in the soul, he felt trapped, cornered and there was no way out. The betrayal of one he trusted was close to breaking his mind, what was wrong with him? Something had to be wrong with him since he made a maia do such…vile and unnatural…things to him. He was tainted, sick, Ehtar had often whispered to him that he only could blame himself, for being such a tease, such a temptation. He didn't understand how that could be true but it had to be true, the maiar didn't lie now did they?
Ehtar had sent for him early that morning, a messenger had arrived at the family home with a note saying that something Tyelkormo had waited for was happening. There was a huge herd of horses living in Oromës forests and the vala had promised him one of the foals sired by his mighty stallion. That promise had almost made him forget about the doubt and fear for a while, and now the mare was going into labor. He had sprinted out of the house grinning like mad and his parents had been so glad to see that expression of joy on his face once more, he had been a bit too quiet of late, why they didn't know. He often refused to eat and would stare at his food with an expression of disgust on his face and he had lost weight too, it had to be a phase, he would grow out of it for sure.
He had gotten a horse and ridden to the stables and watched as the lovely dun mare gave birth to a very beautiful grey colt and he had been so thrilled he hadn't reacted at all when Ehtar arrived and congratulated him wholeheartedly and then asked him if he could help the maia with some rather pesky raccoons that were wreaking havoc upon some gardens. Tyelkormo was so filled with joy he failed to see the rather dark expression in the eyes of his teacher. He didn't know how beautiful he was this day, how the happiness he felt made his eyes shine and his skin glow with the healthy strength of youth.
They had ridden into the forests and Ehtar had followed paths Tyelkormo hadn't seen before, they had arrived at some farms and given instructions to the farmers regarding the capture of those bothersome critters and Ehtar had praised him a lot, told him he was so smart and wise and ready to do real work for their master. Tyelko had told the farmers how to bait some traps and where to place them and it felt so good to see that others were listening to him, obeying his word. On the way back they had stopped at a grove of trees because Ehtar's horse had started to limp and then it had started, the nightmare.
Ehtar had started like he usually did, by kissing and gentle caresses but it had escalated in a way it hadn't done before. Tyelkormo had gotten scared, the expression on the maia's face was predatory, cold. He had tried to resist and Ehtar had forced him down, the gentle caresses became demanding, terrifying. Ehtar had torn his clothes off, kissed and licked and pinched and Tyelkormo had just laid there, panting, paralyzed with the shock and realization that this friend, his best friend, had turned into something terrifying.
He had been baited, just like the raccoons would be, he was dangling like a fish from a hook and there was no escape. He was already in the trap, there was no way out. Ehtar had used him, played him, coaxed him into becoming an obedient slave and the truth was so very hurtful. He tried to beg Ehtar to stop, to tell him that he didn't want this, that he didn't like it. The answer was a hard slap across the face and Tyelkormo had frozen. Nobody had ever hit him, ever. He had screamed, tried to crawl away and Ehtar had grasped his hands by the wrists, tied them together so hard he felt as though the bones would snap.
He was so scared, and confused too. Ehtar had tied the rope to the base of a young tree, he couldn't get lose and yet he tried, gasping and crying. Ehtar had grinned, a wicked smile that looked almost loving but wasn't. " There is no point in screaming my pretty one, nobody will hear you. You will learn to enjoy it, just you wait and see."
Tyelkormo gasped. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Ehtar had run his fingers through the lose strands of silvery and golden hair. " Because I can little one, you are so fair you know, so rare. And you are mine"
Fingers had stroked him, gently and with patience, he had wept with shame but he couldn't help it, he got hard. And then Ehtar sucked him off once more, and he felt more awful than any time before, but there was more to come. Ehtar had spat the seed out into his hand, smeared it onto Tyelkormo's face and he had tried to wriggle himself away from his tormentor but Ehtar just chuckled. The young elf felt disgusted, sick. Ehtar had forced his legs apart, and panic took him, completely. He realized what Ehtar wanted and the very idea made him scream out loud, try to kick and free himself. Ehtar just chuckled again. " Oh struggle, do resist. I just love that, you are really playing hard to get aren't you, you wanton little whore! I bet your father would have loved to know of this ha? Of his son laying here, his legs wide open, ready to be fucked really hard?"
Tyelkormo wailed, begged, his words incoherent, tears stinging. Ehtar suddenly thrust a finger into him, and at the same time he worked the young ellon's cock with expert technique, managed to keep him hard. Tyelkormo didn't know what to do, what to think, what to feel! He felt so dirty, so terribly so and it hurt and yet there was pleasure, intense pleasure and he felt so guilty, so ashamed. Ehtar added another finger, thrusting slowly, teasingly. He did bend the fingers and hit something inside of the trembling elf and it sent a surge of intense pleasure through him, Tyelkormo keened, writhed and sobbed and wanted to be gone, to die, anything!
Ehtar almost made him come undone, then he stopped and waited and started all over again, Tyelkormo was crying now, like a child, his body betrayed him, wanted his tormentor to continue, demanded release. He keened and tried to squirm, to reclaim the control of his own body but he was unable to. Ehtar giggled. " You want it so bad don't you, let me hear you beg for it, come on, don't be shy!"
Tyelkormo refused to say anything, refused to listen but the fingers became his undoing, he was sweating, gasping for air, trying to thrust his hips against that wonderful and yet so shameful sensation. "P…please"
Those words being forced from his own lips were his doom, his ultimate defeat, shame filled him to the very brim, what a terrible useless and weak, oh so weak, creature he was, sinful, a disgrace, an abomination. He deserved it, he deserved it all, he shouldn't even have been born! If anybody knew of this they would all turn their backs to him.
His tormentor chuckled and tilted his head. "See? It isn't that difficult at all, small whores do want to be fucked so bad don't they, and you are no exception, you asked for it, remember that."
Ehtar had a sly expression on his face, grasped onto the base of Tyelkormo's cock and squeezed hard and yet he did thrust with three fingers now, hitting that spot again and again and the young elf felt an almost violent orgasm surge through him and yet he didn't really come, the hand stopped him. Tyelkormo closed his eyes, panting, Ehtar did it again, and again, and it started to hurt now, it didn't feel good at all. Then finally the maia let go and Tyelkormo felt himself spill, and it felt like it lasted forever and it was such relief but Ehtar grasped onto his sack and squeezed it hard and the agony was unbearable. It felt like a kick to the guts, just a hundred times worse, it felt like his internal organs were being pulled straight down, he went completely rigid with pain and the maia laughed. The beautiful soft voice was like poison masked with honey. "Oh you are so lovely while in rapture, be it from pleasure or pain."
He was begging Ehtar to let him go, to release him, he wouldn't tell anyone, he swore he wouldn't. Ehtar just bent over and kissed him on the cheek before he slapped him once more, so hard he felt his lip split open. "Now, where is the fun in that ha? You have had your turn, now it is mine"
Tyelkormo saw the dark glimpse within the eyes of one he had trusted and loved, he started to scream for help, for mercy. The maia grasped him by his hips and lifted him, didn't care if he tried to kick and squirm, was so much stronger than the young elf. He was screaming until he saw red dots dancing before his eyes, until he felt light headed. " Please, don't, don't, oh Eru, I don't want this…"
Ehtar growled, an animalistic sound. " Ungrateful are we? You little twat, after all that I have done for you"
Tyelkormo went rigid again, felt the hot head of Ehtar's cock against his hidden entrance, it felt impossibly large and he pulled at the rope binding his hands, heard something make this awful high pitched sound and realized that it was himself. "No, no, please spare me, no….Aaaahnnnggh"
The agony was unbearable, he felt as though he was being ripped apart from the inside, skewered upon something so huge it would tear him in half. Ehtar immediately started thrusting hard and fast and it burned, it hurt, it made him almost pas out. Tyelkormo thought the pain would kill him, and he wished that it would. He had to get away from it, from it all. But he didn't die, he was shaking, sweating, eyes rolling in shock and Ehtar growled and grasped onto his hips, slammed into the elf with brutal force. Tyelkormo felt something warm flowing out of him, knew it was blood, that Ehtar was quite literally ripping him apart and he whimpered, knew that it was over, that his life was forfeit. He could never face his family again, knowing what had happened to him. He went limp, passive and Ehtar growled with disgust. " Is that all you can take you wimp?"
Suddenly he reached forth, grasped one of Tyelkormo's long braids and spun it around his neck, tightened it. Suddenly the young elf couldn't breathe, he started thrashing around, wheezing, desperate for air, for life. The maia pulled harder, pushed deeper into the struggling elf, the body was shivering in spasms, like those of a dying animal, eyes rolling and the mouth wide open, gasping for air. Instinct forced him go press back against Ehtar, to release the pressure on his windpipe, the maia was panting too, the beautiful face contorted into something terrible, something awful. He let the elf have a lungful of air before he tightened the noose again and Tyelkormo knew it then, Ehtar would kill him. He managed to squeeze out a final word, filling it with all his regret, all his love. "Ammë"
Ehtar laughed out loud. " No isn't that cute, he is calling out for his mother!"
The maia knew that the elf was close to suffocation, watched in fascination as the eyes darkened, as the body struggled desperately. Had the hands been free he would have been clawing at the braid around his neck. Tyelkormo felt that his consciousness was slipping away, that darkness was creeping in on him. The final thing he felt was Ehtar pulsing inside of him, surges of liquid that felt boiling hot and hearing the sound of his tormentor screaming out in ecstasy.
Ehtar gasped for air for a few seconds, let go of the braid. There was still fun to be had and he let the elf breathe once more. If the elfling disappeared there would be questions but he had the leash attached by now, and it was a tight one. The silly little blonde wouldn't dare to speak and Ehtar would have a new plaything for years to come. He waited for the elf to regain consciousness before he started all over again. There was still time before anyone would be missing them and he wanted to make the most of it. The elf screamed when he opened his eyes and saw him and Ehtar smiled that gentle comforting smile that was his best lure. "Awake again? Great, get ready for round two"
Tyelkormo had awakened laying in a ditch not far from the city, Ehtar had dumped him there and he remembered the final words, words that made him so scared he wanted to curl up in a ball. If he as much as said a single word about this Ehtar would make sure that everybody was told what a whore he was, oh yes, even his grandfather would know of it, all of it.
He could hardly breathe, one eye was swollen shut, his lip split and two teeth were missing. Ehtar had struck him, cut him, even rubbed the sensitive skin of his groin with a plant that caused intense pain whence in contact with skin. Tyelkormo couldn't understand how he could be alive, how he had survived. He was bleeding and so cold, so terribly cold. A dirty tattered cloak was all that he had to cover himself and he wished that lord Namo would be the one greeting him when he opened his eyes but he was alone. And the doomsman would probably have turned away in disgust, he had thrown such shame onto his name, Ehtar was right, he was naught but a slut, ready to spread his legs to anyone willing to speak a few friendly words. He sobbed, tears flowing, he was so weak he barely managed to get up but he had to. He couldn't remain there, somebody might find him and then they would all know.
He was better off dead, but he had no weapons, no way to end himself. At home he had a dagger, yes, that was it. A hot bath to feel warm again one last time and then a quick slash across his wrists. It would be for the best, for everybody. Ehtar wouldn't force him to do those things again. He struggled through the farmland, managed to go unseen by everybody, sneaked into the city through a side gate, found his way to their home. His strength was fading, his heart beating like that of a tiny bird in his chest, he had to forget, to be no more. There had to be some peace to find within the halls even if everybody would hate him for having been so stupid, so naïve.
He almost made it, felt his legs give in as his brother stood there, staring down at him, saw the grey eyes go wide with disbelief, with horror. He wanted to beg Makalaurë to keep quiet, to let him go inside and die in peace but he couldn't make any more sound, it was too late. They would know, his mother would know what he had done, oh Eru have mercy, everything, not that, not that!
The sound spread through the house like a thunderclap, made even the geese in the shed in the garden jump and start a racket. "Atya, come quick"
Fëanor had been in his study, ready to go to bed, he had just finished reading a book about the forging of rare metals when he heard a voice that only could be Makalaurë's shouting out so loud it made his hears ring. And the voice was filled with panic, fear, sorrow. Fëanor was onto his feet within the blink of an eye, rushed down the stairs and ran into the garden. He saw Makalaurë standing in front of Tyelkormo's door and saw something laying on the ground, trembling. The first idea that struck him was that his son had encountered some dangerous animal, a predator of some kind, but why then was he alone? There would have been others following him, Oromë's servants, perhaps even the vala himself.
Makalaurë turned to him, his face was empty, the eyes so huge, enormous and black. "Atya..he…"
Fëanor fell down onto his knees, gathered the trembling mass that was his son in his arms and pulled the hood away from the face, what he saw almost made him scream in denial, in shock. "Sweet Eru no, not my son, not my beautiful lad"
Tyelkormo tried to resist, that was the most terrible thing. He tried to get away from his father, away from his touch, making squeaking sounds that were just awful. Fëanor nodded to Makalaurë. " Open the door, we have to carry him inside."
He got up on trembling legs, lifted the young elf up like he weighed next to nothing and then he rushed inside and laid Tyelkormo down onto the bed, pulled the cloak off of him and both Fëanor and Makalaurë took several steps backwards, staring at the injuries with eyes that went wide with horror and shock. Tyelkormo reached for a blanket, for anything. He had to cover himself, he had to stop them from seeing this. " Don't look at me, don't!"
Fêanor took a deep breath, there was panic in his eyes. " Go find your mother, she is probably in her workshop or on her way to our bedroom. Then go find Maitimo, tell him to stand by the gate and he isn't to let anybody in, and make sure that Curufinwë and Carnistir stay in bed, they are not to see this!"
Makalaurë nodded and Fëanor felt himself tremble, a terrible rage was building up inside of him but he kept it under control, for Tyelko's sake. "After that, run to the healer who lives next to the shop where they sell those nice saddles. You know who I mean? Tell her to come right away, she is skilled, and discrete too"
Makalaurë nodded and ran, felt his legs almost buckle and give in but he ran nonetheless, tears streaming down his face. He found Nerdanel in the washroom outside of the kitchen, she had tried to find some clean dish cloths and she just stood there and stared as her son rushed in, she had a peculiar feeling in her gut and it had lasted for hours and now she suddenly realized what it was, one of her sons was in danger, and she hadn't managed to understand it before now, before it was too late. The dish cloths fell from her hand and Makalaurë stared at the floor, trembling. "Ammë, it is..Tyelko..he's been"
She was out of the door before Makalaurë stopped talking, ran to the room with panic written all over her face and a cold sensation building up inside of her chest.
Makalaurê knew that Maitimo was in the stables, he was trying to fix a stall that one of the stallions had kicked to smithereens two days earlier and he heard the steady sound of a hammer against wood, slowed down. Maitimo was very fond of their brother, loved to teach him things and show him the world and Makalaurë knew that this would be hard on him. His tall redheaded brother stopped hammering the moment he sensed Makalaurë's presence, stared at the somewhat shorter dark haired ellon and saw that his brother was pale as a ghost, breathing hard. " What?"
Makalaurë tried to speak, his words got caught in his throat. " It…It is… Tyelko…Atta told you to guard the gate, let nobody in."
Maitimo swallowed, dropped the hammer, some horses whickered and the world felt as though it had fallen completely silent around him. " He…he isn't dead?!"
Makalaurë shook his head. " No…but…I bet he wishes to be"
Maitimo walked forth, like someone sleepwalking, Makalaurë grasped his arm. " The gate?"
Maitimo shook his head. " Not until I have seen him"
Makalaurë let go, nodded. " I have to go and get the healer."
His brother was already on his way out of the stable, the long red hair like a banner behind him. Makalaurë ran out of the house and down the road, it was very late and there were few people outside, he found the house easily and hammered on the door until a tall brown haired elleth opened up. She recognized him and curtsied. " My lord, what is the matter? Is someone ill?!"
Makalaurë felt tears stinging in his eyes. " It is my brother…he is…injured. Please hurry, bring all of your equipment…"
The elleth nodded and before long they were both running back to the house. By now the house was in an uproar, the servants were scurrying everywhere like headless chickens. Maitimo stood by the gate, he was crying and the healer realized that this was no ordinary injury, no dislocated joint or broken bone. She had often been at the house when one of the boys had been a bit too bold or boisterous and knew everybody and she knew who the patient were the moment she saw where they were heading. She had always liked Tyelkormo, sweet openhearted innocent Tyelko, she hoped that this wasn't the end.
Fëanor sat by his son's side, he was crying too and Nerdanel sat on the other side, she was rocking back and forth, making these weird sounds like some animal in agony. Tyelkormo had hidden his face against her skirts, still shivering and the healer gasped at the sight. There was no doubt at all, she immediately knew what had happened to him. "Eru's mercy no!"
Fëanor got up, he was trembling so bad she heard his teeth clatter. " Please, do..do whatever you can, just….just…"
He couldn't say more, his voice failed him and Mariel put her huge bag onto a table and managed to get a hold of herself. She had to be professional now. She found a syringe and filled it with a medicine that would make the patient fall asleep and injected it quickly. Tyelkormo whimpered but didn't protest, he groaned once and went quiet and she stared at Nerdanel. " I think it would be for the best if you…"
Nerdanel almost growled. " I am not leaving him, I have failed to protect him so do not expect me to let go of him again."
Mariel just nodded, she gestured towards Makalaurë and Fëanor. " Heat some water, and get me some clean sheets, and wine, strong wine"
They hurried to follow the order, nobody thought of the absurdity of a prince and his son obeying the orders of a healer. Mariel slowly rolled Tyelkormo onto his back, she almost whimpered when she saw the extent of the injuries. She would have some tough fixing to do, beyond any doubt. The internal injuries were the worst, they were life threatening and the young elf had lost a lot of blood. She cringed when she saw the mass of dried blood and seed that clung to his skin and she dipped her instruments in strong wine before she started to do whatever she could for him. The muscle was torn, He had inner tearing as well and the skin was so inflamed it looked as if he had gotten burned. What in the name of Melkor had been done to him? The cuts and bruises would disappear, a couple had to be stitched and she poured ointment onto the skin. It would reduce the pain and the reaction but she had her doubts about his inner injuries. And he was swollen too, as if he had been kicked in the groin or something.
Fëanor was standing in a dark corner, still trembling. Makalaurë stood next to him and he was sobbing, Mariel felt scared, very much so. Tyelkormo had lost so much blood and he wouldn't be able to eat for a long time. Nerdanel was obviously heartbroken and in shock and Mariel heard the servants outside of the doors, they were confused and scared too. She spent almost two hours treating the young ellon, by then she was sweating and felt drained somehow, as if the injured body on the bed was pulling strength from her. She sighed and wiped the sweat off her forehead. " I have done what I can now, it is up to him."
Fëanor sighed, his eyes dark and distant and Makalaurë gasped. " Will he live?"
Mariel smiled but the smile was a very pale one. " Hopefully, but I cannot promise that he will be himself again, he cannot be left alone from now on, not until you are sure that he is healed, that he is over it. He will need all of your love, even when he denies it. "
Nerdanel let her hand run through the long silky hair, in the darkness of the room the silver in it was so much more striking than the gold. "We will all help him, in every way we can."
Mariel mixed some herbs and made a tea, poured some drops of it down his throat. " We will need to keep him sedated for a couple of days, it is for the best. It will enable him to heal some before he has to face the realities again. He needs his strength, make sure that he gets good food as soon as his internal injuries are healed, food that will help him replenish the loss of blood and strengthen his skin. I have never seen skin injuries like that before, I wonder what may have caused it."
Fëanor was gripping a piece of bandage between his hands, so hard his knuckles were white. " I know, he has been rubbed with red nettles. It feels like getting burned with red hot irons, like having boiling liquid spoiled onto you. He was tortured!"
Nerdanel was weeping silently, rocking back and forth and she was looking at her husband with dark eyes. She looked so very young at the moment, so vulnerable and Fëanor kissed her brow lovingly. " What will you do?"
Fëanor took a deep breath. "There is only one thing to do my light, I have to go to Oromë, the one responsible for this has to be found and punished."
Nerdanel lowered her gaze, her voice so weak. " Yes."
Mariel stayed there until the morning, by then the house was quiet and the two younger sons had gotten out of bed and discovered that their brother was ill somehow and they were not allowed to see him. Nerdanel tried to calm them down, but they were very upset and Moryo in special, he was so like his father in some ways. Fëanor sat by Tyelkormo's bed until it became clear that he would survive, then he bathed, got dressed and took two of his most trusted servants with him. He sent messengers to the court of his father, explaining the situation and he knew that Finwë would be deeply shocked and disgusted by this, and not the least worried about his grandson's well-being.
Fëanor rode to Oromë's palace like a true prince, dressed in rather dark and somber robes and his servants wore black. It was rather unusual to see elves wearing black and so many stared as they rode by. They got there rather early in the day, Oromë was at home and he was busy training some horses and looked worried as he rushed to welcome the guests. He recognized Tyelkormo's father right away and a frown could be seen on his face. He had found it odd that the young ellon hadn't returned to visit his foal. Fëanor dismounted and the vala immediately knew that something was wrong, he stared at the noldorin prince with deep eyes and Fëanor bowed his head to show respect but his gaze was burning. " My lord Oromë, I have come on behalf of my son Turkafinwë Tyelkormo."
Oromë looked nervous, he was fond of Tyelkormo, had something happened? An accident perhaps? "Yes? Do tell, why isn't he here? The foal he was waiting for was born days ago, I have not seen him since?"
Fëanor felt his throat constricting, the words refused to come out but he forced them forth, his voice ice cold and flat. "My lord, my son Makalaurë caught him trying to enter the house unseen, he was…injured."
Oromë's eyes got wide, he suddenly saw what Fëanor had seen, the trembling young ellon, laying in a heap on the ground, bloody and torn and close to giving up his fëa. "Eru!"
Fëanor was trembling now, the anger and hurt in his eyes so strong they were shining like orbs of dark light. "He had been raped my lord, and tortured. I demand justice"
Oromë suddenly looked as if he grew, the otherwise so gentle and controlled vala was suddenly surrounded by power, it wrapped around him like dancing veils and he growled deep in his throat. " And justice he shalt have. Come with me"
Oromë walked into the palace and they entered a huge hall in the middle of the complex. It was rather simple and it had no furniture, just a few benches along the white walls. Oromë stopped in the middle of the room, the short wall at the end of the room was shimmering like the surface of a pond and Fëanor felt the magic within the room as something almost tangible. Oromë raised his hand, shouted something and suddenly images formed upon the wall, they were blurred and distant but there was no doubt about who they saw. And what they were seeing.
Fëanor moaned, his knees felt like they couldn't carry him, like his strength was gone forever. He panted, it was Tyelkormo and Ehtar, and he saw how the maia slowly and deliberately seduced his son, trapped him in a web of guilt and doubt, made him loathe himself and fear those who could have helped him. He saw how Ehtar had abused Tyelkormo's innocence and trusting mind, saw the favors he had to return, saw how fear and pain replaced the light and joy in his beautiful son's eyes. He hadn't seen it and his heart felt like a lump of coal in his chest.
The scenes changed again, Oromë was breathing hard, anger turning him into a frightening sight. They saw it now, how Ehtar had forced himself upon the young ellon, heard him beg and scream, his prayers for mercy. Fëanor was trembling, weeping and he could barely contain his wrath. The lump of coal had turned into a lump of red hot iron. Oromë let the images fade, he was a terrifying sight now, the elven shape he had taken almost gone and the true form of a vala visible underneath, a creature of light, burning like hundreds of stars. The great hunter let out a howl, a strange haunting sound that seemed to echo through the very fabric of space and time and the room was suddenly being filled with his servant. Maiar appeared from nowhere, out of thin air or so it seemed and Oromë was so tall his head almost reached the ceiling, his eyes were dark wells and he was so terrible Fëanor didn't dare to look at him. " Where is thy brother known as Ehtar? Bring him forth to me, for he have committed a crime most despicable, most vile"
Two huge maiar Fëanor never had seen before came forth, they were dragging Ehtar between them even though he was kicking and yelling and glowing like the trees themselves with anger. Oromë thundered. " We have seen what thou hast done, what does thou have to say for thyself?"
Ehtar growled. " I have done nothing wrong, he was willing, he wanted it. He asked me to take him, he was such a lusty little whore"
Fëanor screamed and if his servants hadn't grasped him he would have pulled his dagger and attacked the maia himself. Oromë let out a roar of rage and sorrow. " What has thou done? Thou hast hurt one with a pure soul, forced thy own debauchery onto such innocence. I loathe thee, I curse thee."
Ehtar growled and struggled. " Whatever he has said, he was lying, he started it"
Oromë hissed" Take this serpent away from my sight, he is forever condemned, no longer of our kin, no longer of our blood."
Oromë called out once again. " Brother, come to me, here I have one for thee to claim, one to remain within thy halls until the breaking of the world."
Dark mist formed within the room and the elves present stared at the floor, unable to look at the doomsman. Namò slid across the floor, his robes making no sound, his deep dark eyes staring at Ehtar who struggled desperately against the two maiar holding him. " I see brother, and I see what this…vermin, have done. I will take him, I will claim his fëa and in my halls he will stay, facing the judgment from our father."
Namò raised his hand, put it upon Ehtar's head and Fëanor shuddered within as he saw that the maia became transparent while squirming and screaming desperately. Whatever the doomsman was doing, it was most certainly not pleasant. Within seconds Ehtar was gone and Oromë bowed his head towards Namò. " I thank thee brother, I cannot believe that such filth did live among us"
Namò sighed, it sounded like a soft breeze among swaying branches. " Evil may take hold in anyone, beware o brothers and sisters, it may reside among us even as we speak."
He faded and disappeared and Fëanor felt a creeping sensation slide down his spine. Was that a warning of some sort?
Oromë turned around, bowed his head. " Son of Finwê Noldorion, the one who molested thy son is forever gone, his fëa is to face the torment of knowing his sins until the breaking of this world. Does this please thee?"
Fëanor swallowed hard. " It pleases me yes, it is…justice"
Oromë smiled and shrank, looked normal again, more like a very tall beautiful elf. "Then do please bring thy son my most heartfelt greetings and well wishes. The foal is awaiting him and my doors are always open for him, I will eagerly wait for his return."
Fëanor smiled, or at least he tried to smile. " I will make sure that he knows this."
Oromë bowed his head and Fëanor did the same, there wasn't anything more he could do now, but return home and wait. Wait for his son to recover, if he ever did. The last option sent shivers down his spine.
They rode home slowly, Ehtar was gone and would probably face a punishment well fitting for his crime but why hadn't Oromë noticed that this maia of his was such a dark and twisted soul? Was the vala blind? There had to be something about Ehtar that could have given him away? Fëanor had always doubted that the valar and maiar were as omnipotent as they claimed to be, now the doubt grew even stronger. If Oromë had failed to see the snake he was sheltering within his own staff then what else had the valar failed to notice? Were they as naïve and immature as they claimed that the elves were?
He rode into the small yard and dismounted, Makalaurë was waiting for him, he held a piece of paper in his hand. " A messenger came just ten minutes ago, from the court. He is coming here, and…they know too."
Fëanor just sneered, he knew who his son spoke of, his father's sons and daughters with that vanyar usurper. " I bet they are gloating now, but it matters not. Make sure the servants prepare a room for atta, and it has to be dark. His eyes cannot handle the light as well as ours."
Makalaurë knew that of course but ran to deliver the message. Fëanor went to the room where Tyelkormo was laying, he sighed and sat down by the bed. The young elf was kept sedated still, his injuries had to heal and he wouldn't be able to eat anything solid for a while. He would have to depend upon broth to give him strength. Fëanor let his hands slide through the silky hair, felt how sobs forced their way out, tears were running down his cheeks. Nerdanel lay on a bench at the back of the room, asleep. She refused to leave their son, and he felt worried about her too. He had to hide his face behind his hands. " Oh sweet Eru, how could we be so blind? I have failed you my child, I should have seen the danger you were in, the demons you were facing! How can you ever forgive me?!"
He gasped and grasped a limp hand, kissed it. " If Oromë hadn't let Namò take that bastard I would have sent him to the halls myself, I swear this to you. I don't care if it takes forever, just…just wake up, be Tyelko again, please"
He remained sitting by the bed, whispering soothing words, trying to lessen the load he felt he was carrying. He felt guilty for not having protected his child, for having failed to see why Tyelkormo had acted so strangely. He would never be that naïve again, no never! He now knew that the so called gods were flawed, that they could be weak and mean and vicious just as everything else.
He knew that Tyelkormo would blame himself, would feel shame, he swore that he would do whatever he could to take it away, make the young ellon see that it wasn't his fault. Yes, he would make sure that none of them ever trusted those so called creatures of light again.
Tyelkormo woke up slowly, at first he was confused, his mind somewhat lost, then he remembered and they had a hard time convincing him that they didn't hate him, that they didn't think he was dirty or stained, that they loved him still. It took weeks before he could leave the room, his injuries healed but his soul didn't. He wouldn't let anyone touch him, not even his mother. The light was gone from his eyes, he was quiet and withdrawn and there was such sadness in his gaze.
They all watched over him, he was never left alone, not even at night. They were discreet but he was being watched and Fëanor tried again and again to make him realize that nothing of it had been his fault, that he wasn't the guilty one. Perhaps some of the words hit home but the playful bright personality had been extinguished. Tyelkormo didn't try to end himself, that was a relief for them all but he was changed, and not for the better. There was a bitterness within him now, the trusting open personality had changed to one who was suspicious and distrustful, he always anticipated the worst and never let anyone close.
He could tolerate his brothers and family, but not even Finwë who he had adored before was able to break through the wall of fear and anger Tyelkormo had built up around himself. The family was perhaps brought closer together by this but he removed himself from them all in some ways. He did return to Oromë after about half a year but there was little joy to be seen in his face now. Only when he spoke of his foal and the puppy Oromë had given him would his eyes shine and a ghost of the ellon he had been would be visible for a few precious moments. He sought the company of animals more and more and Oromë did approve of this and did encourage that development but it made Fëanor even more in doubt of the wisdom of the valar.
Tyelkormo would sit among them and be a part of the family and yet he wasn't, it was as if he wasn't really there. If anyone touched him, even by accident, he would cringe and stare at them as if they were trying to murder him and he could be rather harsh and his temper was getting just as bad as that of Carnistir. Cruel words became his weapon of choice, he kept everybody at an arms distance as if not to be too involved and he was perhaps trying to protect them too, from being infected by his darkness.
Nerdanel heard him crying at night but if she entered the room, desperate to offer some comfort he would turn his back to her, if she insisted he would scream and yell and be both rude and vicious and it hurt her motherly heart more than anything else ever had. He was isolating himself, and there was little they could do about it. Only when he was out in the woods did he feel free, only there was he safe. He felt as though everybody knew of what he had been through and even strangers who didn't know who he was were kept at a distance by his fierce outbursts of unpleasant words.
He did take his father's words to his heart, knew that Fëanor was right. Oromë was unable to understand how he felt, and why. Why should these creatures be allowed to rule them when they had no idea of what it meant to be alive? It was the valar who were naïve and spoiled, not the elves. At times he could smile and laugh and just interact with the rest of the family as before but the smile never reached his eyes. And his dreams, oh Eru, he never spoke of those. The nightmares that were haunting him, the images in his mind so terrible, so awful. He was still fair and pretty, still one others sought but he never let anyone close, not even the ellith. He was soiled, damaged goods. He denied himself those feelings and suppressed them and if some pretty thing approached him he was polite but ice cold. Nerdanel noticed and her heart wept for him but what could she do?
The conflict between Fëanor and his half-brother's escalated, Tyelkormo had somehow returned to the way he was before when it came to his feelings towards his father. Fëanor was the one who couldn't do any mistakes and he was so very loyal. Fëanor had never done anything but loving him in that pure innocent way he now longed for and that Tyelkormo so openly supported Fëanor made the younger brothers do the same. By the time the twins were born there was a sort of disharmony spreading through the family. Fëanor was becoming increasingly bitter and angry at the valar and also at his father's family with his second wife.
Fëanor managed to forge something new, something nobody had ever managed to create and to Tyelkormo those jewels held some sort of magic, a reminder of the innocence he once had possessed, of the purity he had lost. They were the light that had been stolen from him, the hope he had lost, the love he would never allow himself to feel. They were pure, as he never would be again.
He was more than willing to follow his father into exile, he took the oath without hesitating and he didn't hesitate even at Alqualonde. To him their father was the only one worth listening to, the only sane voice in a cacophony of souls all condemning and filled with naught but betrayal. When Fëanor died Tyelkormo lost it, his mind was so obsessed with the retrieval of the Silmarilli that he was unable to see what he was becoming, what they all were becoming. Maitimo and Makalaurë were the two last sane voices, the ones trying to hold back this tide of violence blood and death but to no prevail. Tyelkormo hated the world, it was as simple as that. His hound betrayed him, the elleth he wanted rejected him and fled, his father had died and abandoned them and their mother had left them too. In his mind it was his fault, it was he who had brought that darkness into the family and perhaps he felt that he was paying for his sin when he found his death at Doriath, or maybe he thought that he was doing the right thing, trying to reclaim that one thing which reminded him of the light he had once carried within.
He had been deemed as fair, as an ellon without a mean bone in his body. When he died he was known as the cruel, as a person without a heart. The ghost of a once innocent and jolly lad who loved everybody and only saw the light, a light that was stolen and ruined by one he trusted. Ruined by the worst betrayal of them all.
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