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‘Why in Eru’s name did I agree to this’
Maedhros was in despair. He was exhausted, he was stressed, and the twins would not stop crying.
Telvo and Pityo were crying, Curvo was screaming in his crib down the hall, Tyelko was tormenting Moryo yet again, he could hear them fighting in their room… oh, and Káno was nowhere to be seen after his earlier meltdown, when Maedhros had snapped at him for composing at so late an hour when their younger brothers needed to sleep.
Oh, and it was the middle of the night. How are all these children still awake and driving him insane?
He truly was at breaking point. Near tears himself, even.
His parents had left him in charge of all of his brothers while they went out for the evening. Some fancy new restaurant that has opened in Tirion, or something. In truth, he had only been half listening when they told him of their plans, as the looming dread of taking care of his younger brothers took over. Their relationship had been rocky for some time, but Maedhros was glad to see that they were working through it, and coming out the other side of their troubles. Hopefully, he would soon have back the parents that he remembered from his childhood, and his brothers would never have to know the absent and work-driven individuals of his adolescence.
While he was perfectly capable of handling a few challenging children, that did not mean that he wanted to be left in charge of everybody else. Still, he owed it to his parents; they were exhausted lately, especially his mother, after giving birth to the twins only a few months ago. It was their unexpected conception that prompted his parents to at least try and fix their relationship, and now they had the chance to spend a night together away from home. Far away from their demanding children. Well past his majority, it fell to Maedhros to parent them for the night.
It was not going well.
With a sigh, he hoisted Pityo further up against his shoulder, trying his best to soothe him, and rocking Telvo gently in his other arm… or was it Telvo that was sobbing into his shoulder, and Pityo wailing in the crook of his arm?
He really couldn’t tell the difference between them anymore. It was hard enough to stop one baby from crying, let alone two, with no hands to spare for soothing touches and to wipe away tears. To him, they were nothing more than redheaded bundles of snot and tears and he did not know how to calm them. How is it that he was able to raise four younger brothers in his parents’ absence, and yet, he was clueless when it came to these two? Twins should not be so difficult to handle, Moryo and Curvo were so close in age that they had been babies together, and he had managed that well enough.
But these two? Double the stress, double the trouble.
Oh, but they were adorable at times, Maedhros had to admit that. He loved their soft red curls, their chubby cheeks, and their tiny little fingers that would reach out and tug at his hair or grab his own fingers and hold on for dear life. It was little things like that which made all this pressure worthwhile.
If only he could figure out what the issue was with these two. The twins had still not settled, not even a little. Pacing around the room, gently bouncing his little brothers, Maedhros forced himself to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts, mentally going through the list that had permanently ingrained itself in his mind when it came to dealing with babies. He’d done this four times already, after all.
He had already fed them… they had been changed… they had been given attention… they were definitely tired though. Could they not fall asleep because of the noise in the house? It was giving Maedhros a headache, let alone the babies. Still, if he put them back down in their crib and left to settle the rest of his siblings, they would just scream even more because of his absence. Káno would be a big help here, but he hadn’t been seen for hours. He was going through that phase, one which Maedhros dreaded Tyelko reaching next. Thankfully not for many years- there was quite an age gap between him and Káno.
‘Okay’, he thought to himself.
‘Deep breath. You can do this. Just calm down.’
‘… I can’t do this.’
It was hopeless. He just couldn’t do this alone. He was just one elf, looking after five very young children, and one moping and temperamental adolescent. In danger of hyperventilating, he crossed the room to the rocking chair in the corner and sat for a moment. He was panicked, and shaking, and couldn’t live with himself if he ended up losing his grip on one of the twins.
A forbidden thoughts crossed his mind: ‘If only Findekáno were here to help.’ He was so good with his own baby brother that he might have been able to help with the chaos in this household tonight. He was a calming presence, while Maedhros was prone to overthinking.
That, however, was an impossible situation, and would remain a wistful thought. While his father’s relationship with Nolofinwë was, at last, steadily improving, with the waves of paranoia and jealousy finally beginning to ebb, he would not be impressed to learn that one of Nolofinwë’s children had been in his house without him there to keep a close eye. Fëanáro still didn’t trust them, not entirely. Maedhros could not risk Fëanáro’s ire for his own benefit, not at Findekáno’s expense.
He was alone, and he was becoming even more desperate. He still needed to check on the rest of his brothers; he hadn’t seen them for almost an hour and that was concerning. They had become quiet, too quiet, and there was no way that all of them were asleep, not with the noise that the twins were still making. They were definitely up to something. Well, Tyelko and Moryo anyway. Curvo had his own room, and was in his crib the last time Maedhros saw him. So, unless he had learned how to climb out, he should be secure. It was the other two he was worried about.
A sigh from the doorway caught his attention. As if he had sensed Maedhros’s despair, and it was very likely that he had, Káno finally made an appearance, returning from whatever dark corner he had hidden himself in. His period of sulking was, apparently, over, and he was leaning against the doorframe with an exasperated look.
Maedhros looked over at him, with an almost pleading look, and it worked in his favour. He knew he must look a fright; he had been on his feet for hours, his hair was coming loose and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was never becoming a father, he decided. He couldn’t do this full time, it would break him.
With a sigh, Káno tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, one that had come loose from his braids, and walked over to where Maedhros was sat, still desperately trying to soothe the crying babies.
“Give them to me Nelyo, and go and check on the others.”
Maedhros breathed a sign of relief, and, carefully handing the babies over, he took a moment to steady himself. To just breathe, and brush away the hair that had fallen over his face when he had no free hands to fix the mess he was becoming. He noticed just how shaky his hands truly were, and whether it was the adrenaline or the lack of food, he needed to rectify that. He really should head to the kitchen and grab some fruit, just something to tide him over until he could wrangle the rest of his brothers into bed.
He was about to do just that, when Káno began to sing.
Oh, if only he had come earlier! Within moments, the twins had quietened, already falling asleep to the sound of his gentle song, and even Maedhros felt himself begin to calm, and his racing heart at last begin to settle. This was what Káno did best, after all, and there was no one in the whole of Valinor who would not find themselves mesmerised by his voice.
The twins seemed to like him best, too. Not that they were uncomfortable around Maedhros, not at all, but there was just something about Káno that settled them. Perhaps it was his gentleness, when he allowed that trait to make an appearance, or even his quiet demeanour that seemed to soothe them. His true nature was finally breaking through, despite his adolescent bouts of melancholy and temper, and in time, he would become a wonder. Maedhros was proud of him, although he had yet to tell him that. Maybe he should.
Before he could, however, a scream came from somewhere down the hall. From Moryo and Tyelko’s room, if he had to hazard a guess. Well, the silence was too good to last, after all. Nothing was ever calm in this house, especially not in the middle of the night. He knew that those little horrors weren’t asleep.
With a grateful nod in Káno’s direction, who seemed perfect comfortable sat in the corner chair rocking his baby brothers, he left to find out what the problem was now. It had sounded like Moryo who screamed, which probably meant that Tyelko had been tormenting him. Again. There was something wrong with that child, Maedhros was sure of it. It was somewhat of a running joke amongst the extended family that Fëanaro had simply found this child in the woods, after all, such a feral child could not be one of the Tirion Noldor! Even Fëanaro himself was not so wild, and he certainly liked to push the boundaries of the acceptable.
Maedhros didn’t know why Tyelko loved to terrorise Moryo so much, the younger brother had never done anything to him! Perhaps that was it, he was an easy target. Moryo was a quiet child, who preferred to stay out of the way, although that was impossible when having to share a room with his (slightly) elder brother. It was strange for a child barely older than a toddler to enjoy his solitude so greatly, but he was the least troublesome of the bunch, and Maedhros had a soft spot for him.
Tyelko, on the other hand? He was a menace, and would without a doubt worsen as he got older. With his almost hunter-like behaviour when it came to his younger brother, he would be well-suited for Oromë’s Hunt when reached his adolescence, if he could keep his attitude in check. He was far too young for such things now, of course, and so there was nothing that could regulate this behaviour. And so, it was up to Maedhros to try and keep him in line. It was a source of constant headaches.
With a groan, he entered their room at the end of the hall, almost dreading what he would find. He had left them unattended for almost an hour, at least, who knows what damage they could have done?
Luckily, it was not as bad as he had feared. He found Moryo sobbing in the corner of the room and Tyelko looking rather proud of himself, holding one of his brother’s stuffed animals. Well, what remained of it, anyway. A hunter, indeed. He loved to steal things from others, often destroying them, and relished in causing arguments. Never before had there been a more troublesome child.
‘We may not have found him in the woods’ Maedhros thought to himself, ‘but I am close to taking him out and leaving him there’.
Gently scooping his crying brother up off the floor, he caught a glimpse of the outline of teeth marks in the soft skin of his arm. Well, no wonder Tyelko looked so triumphant. That little wolf could bite, Maedhros knew that from experience. He would have to separate them tonight, it was the only way they might get some peace.
After ordering Tyelko back to bed – whether he would sleep or not is debatable, but out of his hands right now – Maedhros left for Curvo’s room, who had also become suspiciously quiet in the last half an hour or so. He had thrown multiple tantrums all evening, over what, Maedhros could not say, but the screaming seemed to have stopped for now.
Still comforting the brother in his arms, he peered round the doorway and, oh, well that was a surprise. Curvo was fast asleep in his crib. A blessing, really. One less child to deal with. He only hoped it would remain so. Part of him cursed his parents for having his youngest four brothers so close together; he had been in his adolescence when Káno was born, and there was barely any gap between the youngest at all! They weren’t planned, that is for sure. He loved them though, undeniably, no matter how much stress they caused him.
So, Tyelko would (hopefully) soon be asleep in his room, Curvo was sleeping peacefully right where Maedhros had left him, the twins were quiet and happy in Káno’s arms, and Káno himself had finally stopped moping. All that was left was Moryo.
There had been too much noise upstairs tonight for either of them to be able to settle there, too much anticipation of the next thing to possibly go wrong. So, Maedhros carefully carried his younger brother downstairs, the only sound his quiet snuffling into his shoulder, the last remnants of tears still on his breath.
The fire in the living room was still burning from earlier that evening, although now a gentle flickering instead of the roaring flame that been burning for hours. A reflection of themselves really, if one wanted to be poetic about the situation. Their spirits of fire burn fiercely and intensely, but tempers burn out, in the end.
Alas, now was not the time for such thoughts.
Grabbing one of the large pillows and a blanket from the corner of the room – Tyelko had made a nest of sorts earlier in the day – Maedhros laid them down in front of the fire and settled down upon them. With Moryo curled up on his chest, no more tears to cry, the quiet sound of his steady breathing revealed that, he too, was finally asleep. That was everyone, and he could trust Káno to keep the twins settled upstairs and take care of himself.
Exhausted, and running his fingers through his brother’s short hair, he too succumbed to sleep.
The House of Fëanáro was silent at last.
When Fëanáro and Nerdanel would sneak back into the house early the next morning, that is how they would find their eldest and fourth child in the living room. Still curled up together in front of the dying embers of the fire, the lines of exhaustion and the tracks of tears long gone from their faces.
Upstairs, in the twins’ room, they would find their second child and their newborns still in the chair in the corner, where Káno had somehow sung himself to sleep after his baby brothers, content to hold them in his arms when they all found their rest.
Tyelko had not stayed in his room, oh of course he hadn’t. He had, however, crept into little Curvo’s room, in case he was lonely in the night, thinking he must be lonely in a room of his own. They found him curled up in the chair next to his little brother’s crib, and holding his tiny hand through the bars, not once letting go throughout the night. They would become inseparable after this, as we know very well, right up until the end.
It was a comfort for Fëanáro and Nerdanel to know just how deeply their sons cared for one another, even at such a young age. That would give Nerdanel at least some measure of peace when her sons left for Valinor, throughout everything, they would always care for one another. No matter how much they pretended to hate each other.
That was what brothers did, after all.