Son of Fëanor

-General-

The great meadows of Yavanna, once resplendent, verdant, and teeming with life, were shadowed like an abyss by the loss of Aman's sacred trees. Yet, this mattered little to the merriest of all the Valar, Tulkas, who, along with Oromë, recited poems and stories as ancient as Arda itself to alleviate the fear of the elven children at the loss of the light of the two trees.

"It was then, like thunder before a storm, that I arrived in Arda," he said with animated gestures, mimicking a fall. "The clouds tore apart at my golden flash, the earth roared like a mighty beast, bowing to my strength," he explained to the young elf children, who, like an enthralled audience, listened with utter fascination etched on their youthful faces.

Do not be fooled by Tulkas' powerful and imposing appearance. He was a being of extreme purity and joy. His laughter echoed through the mountains and rivers of Aman, and his cheerfulness in the face of adversity was like a fresh breeze in an atmosphere filled with gloom and fear.

"I rose with strength; my mighty presence drove back the darkness Melkor had rooted in Arda. My powerful steps made that Dark Lord tremble with fear, retreating like an animal hiding from its predator, fleeing into the darkest pits," he said, standing tall and flexing his muscular arms in a gesture of arrogance and confidence.

"He ran like a coward, and he will do so again when I decide to hunt him."

It was common for these children to hear Tulkas' tales and stories. He was a Valar close to them, whose imposing figure might inspire fear. However, those who knew him understood his nurturing and caring attitude toward the weak and his profound love for Eru's smallest creations.

"I'll be as strong as you, Lord Tulkas! I'll use my strength to protect all my friends," declared a child with small golden curls that shimmered like the summer sun, standing with fiery innocence in his eyes.

A booming laugh, like thunder, filled with joy, echoed across Yavanna's green meadows. Tulkas, brimming with excitement, rejoiced at the child's declaration.

"Well said, little one! I will be watching your progress," Tulkas proclaimed, filling the young elf with determination through his approval.

Nearby, Oromë, leaning against his two large hunting dogs, opened his eyes with a hint of amusement curving into a crescent smile. "You always say the same thing," he murmured to himself, though Tulkas, with his keen senses, still heard him.

A small twitch appeared in Tulkas' left eye. Oromë's murmur had caused a slight discomfort, barely noticeable to anyone but those as perceptive as him.

Such was his camaraderie with his brother-in-law Oromë. Rarely were they seen apart, their great friendship forged over the long years spent in Arda and by their connection through the dancing Valier, Nessa, Oromë's sister and Tulkas' wife.

Clearing his throat, Tulkas gazed into the distance, his chiseled face breaking into a smile once more. "Well, little ones, go to your mother. Be careful on your way, and my stories will continue another day," he said, gracefully bidding farewell to the elven children, reluctant to leave.

"Go, little ones, for my stories are only for the obedient," added Oromë, rising to display his tall and imposing figure. Though more reserved than Tulkas, he shared the same love for Eru's creations.

Then, a whistle full of charm and protection swept across the clearing, rushing like winter winds into Yavanna's woods. From there, hawks and eagles flew with grace and calm, perching on nearby branches, observing the small elves, who gazed at them in wonder.

"Go, little ones. My dear friends will accompany and protect you," said Oromë. These hawks and eagles were his creatures, trained and nurtured to combat the monstrous beasts of Melkor.

Thus, the young elves departed, marching joyfully while singing in honor of the Valar who cared for them. Their hymn spread across the clearing, where only love and devotion were heard.

From among the trees emerged an elf, as graceful as the moon in the sky, majestic as a summer sunset, and tranquil as a calm ocean. He walked toward the two Valar, who looked at him with amusement and a touch of joy.

"Kiddo, it's been days since I last saw you," said Tulkas, adjusting his size to place his hands on the elf's shoulders. Their familiarity was so evident that they seemed like brothers. Such was Tulkas' manner, especially with his apprentice, Ilarion.

Yes, this elf was the eighth son of Fëanor, a student of all the Valar. His kindness and love for life endeared him to all. His elegant and radiant figure surpassed all creations ever seen by the Valar, even making them feel diminished before Ilarion's beauty.

"Forgive me, Lord Tulkas, but my journey to Lady Varda has delayed me a bit," replied Ilarion, his soft, magnetic voice making the wind dance as it swayed the gentle grass.

"Varda?" Tulkas repeated, tilting his head. "Why did you go to her?" His curiosity was evident in his tone, a trait he only showed to those he deeply cared for.

Ilarion, with a small chuckle, nodded to himself. He had come to bid farewell to Tulkas and Oromë, two of the Valar who had raised him, akin to uncles caring for a nephew.

"Haven't you heard the recent news, Lord Tulkas?" said Ilarion, now noticing the confusion on his master's face. With an amused sigh, he took on a more serious tone, temporarily setting aside the joyful atmosphere his presence usually brought.

"I will soon depart with my father," he continued, causing Tulkas's radiant smile to dim slightly.

"I see," murmured Tulkas. He had known for some time but had wanted confirmation. He had sensed that his apprentice would leave Valinor with his father, seeking their cherished jewels.

Not long ago, Tulkas himself had wanted to confront Fëanor for his audacity, but his wife had stopped him, reminding him that Manwë had decreed no one should interfere with the Elves' departure.

"Well, it seems the little sparrow is ready to leave the nest," he said aloud, more to himself. His smile returned as he gave Ilarion a stronger embrace, releasing a deafening laugh filled with emotions only he could fully understand. "So, you've come to say goodbye."

With a touch of sorrow, Ilarion lowered his head, not just from his master's firm grip but also from shame. His father's disdain for the Valar weighed heavily on him, as Ilarion was close to all of them, except perhaps Mandos, who rarely left his halls.

"Yes, this time I've come to bid farewell to you, Master Tulkas, and Master Oromë. Your guidance has shaped me into the Elf I am today, and for that, I am grateful," he said, pausing as neither Tulkas nor Oromë spoke, waiting for him to continue.

"Thank you so much. Regardless of what my father says, to me, you are family," he finally added, his voice tinged with emotion.

With Varda, he had held back his feelings, mainly to avoid saddening her, but now, in the presence of these two great Valar who treated him like a nephew, he could no longer maintain his composure. His voice broke with every word.

"Come now, little Ilarion, it's not so bad. This isn't goodbye; it's a 'see you later,'" said Oromë, his wise words softened by the sight of the sorrowful Ilarion.

With a whistle imbued with intentions known only to the Valar, a gentle wind made the grass vibrate and swayed the flowers with a spring-like grace. That whistle was a summons. From among the trees emerged a massive wolfhound, white as winter snow, carrying the majesty of a king. Its soft fur was moved only by the winds of Manwë.

The noble wolf moved with the swiftness of a leopard, a speed that would have terrified those unfamiliar with it. But to Oromë, it was just a pup he had raised since birth.

"Since you're leaving, let my loyal companion accompany you," he said, as the wolf approached Ilarion with care, affection, and intelligence. Ilarion, by then free of Tulkas's embrace, knelt down.

"Huan!" he exclaimed with great joy, hugging the wolf he had played with as a child. This wolfhound had been his companion throughout his life, almost as if they had been made for each other.

With great affection, he stroked behind Huan's neck, feeling its soft and fluffy fur, its fine coat seemed as though it had been woven by Vairë herself. With a sound of contentment, Huan lay down, allowing Ilarion to pet him, his heart brimming with joy at the touch of such a pure being.

"This is my gift to you, Ilarion. Huan will accompany you on your journey. He will protect you, just as he has safeguarded Valinor for countless years."

**

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