Year: 415 of the 1st Age; Gondolin, House of the Heavenly Arch
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A small elfling sits in a wooden chair, a light blue tunic covering his small frame. His silver hair rests just above his shoulders. A thumb is stuck in his mouth and a fingernail is slowly being chewed to bits. His eyes are intent on looking at the tall, wooden front door of the residence. The large, grey eyes are sad and his back is slouched forward.
"Little one, why do you not go and join your cousins by the hearth? Your Adar and Naneth shall not come home more quickly just because you look at the door for hours." The elleth chastises, before turning back to the vegetables she is slicing.
"But they've been gone for so long...." The elfling mutters, thumb still in his mouth, swinging his legs over the edge of the wooden chair.
"This meeting they are attending is of utmost importance. We do not know when they shall be back. Go on and play, hmm? Is that not a better use of your time, lthilwe?" She gives the child a kind but stern look and her eyes seem to bore into his.
The elfling gives a small nod and whispers 'I suppose so....' before climbing down from the chair. He grabs his book of fairytales, and begins to make his way into the other room where his older cousins are playing. The winter winds were raging harsh outside and the hearth is ablaze, warming the room with it's flames.
The two cousins, Arvellas and Fileg were currently playing with their favorite toy soldiers, making battles cries and shouting commands in Sindarin. Arvellas, the oldest of the three, swings his head around, black hair flying in the air, and gives Ithilwe a smirk. "Oh, look Fileg! The baby of the house has deemed us worthy of his presence." He says before turning back to his soldier. Fileg laughs and narrows his eyes at Ithilwe.
"Don't you have better things to do than bother us with your simple baby talk and boring books?" Fileg sneers, before standing up and towering over the silver haired child. Ithilwe frowns, confused over their annoyed tone and looks.
"What do you mean, cousin?" He asks quietly, before starting to sit down on the fuzzy, brown rug. Arvellas immediately grabs his arms and pulls him back up to a standing position, not too gently either.
"Nay! There is no time for sitting, baby cousin. There is another important task you must see to.... You love your Adar, correct?"
Ithilwe steps back and frowns at Arvellas. "Of course I do! I love Ada and Nana more than anything!" He says determinedly.
"Then you want to make him proud?" Fileg questions the shorter one. Ithilwe nods along, confused.
"Aye..." He whispers.
Arvellas claps his hands together gleefully. "Wonderful. We think that your Adar would be most proud if you were to clean and polish his bow for him. Here! Take these. A cleaning substance and some polish. Why do you not go and spend the time cleaning his bow." He says quickly while pushing two small bottles and a rag into Ithilwe's chubby fingers.
"But..... Ada said I must never touch his or Nana's bows...." Ithilwe trails off, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"He may have said so in the past, baby cousin, but he will be grateful to see what you have done for him. I promise you, he will be glad." Fileg adds on, smirking.
Ithilwe, young as he was, seems to think for several moments before whispering an 'okay' and wandering off to his parents' bedchamber. He does not notice, but the two older boys are giving each other a strange look and laughing behind their hands.
Once the silver haired child reaches the bedroom he sets the three items his cousins pushed into his hands, onto the hard ,tile floor. His father's bow rests on a wooden stand proudly, set right next to his mother's. Using both hands, the elfling begins to pull at the bow. It is taller than he by several fingers and seems to weigh just about as much. With incredible difficulty, Ithilwe succeeds in pulling the bow down to the ground with a clatter and drags it to where the supplies were.
He slowly uncorks the first glass bottle, the cleaning substance, his cousins said. He takes the cloth and unsteadily pours a liberal amount onto it, before setting the bottle down onto his lap. It still sat open, but he was carefull not to tip it. When he gets a whiff of the clear substance now covering the cloth, he wrinkles his nose.
'This smells....awful.' He whispers to himself, but shrugs, trusting that his cousins knew what they were talking about. He begins to wipe the bow down with unpracticed and rough movements, a tongue sticking out the side of his lips in concentration. For several minutes, the rag flew up and down the wooden bow. By the time he was finished 'cleaning' the bow, the smell in the room had become so rancid that he had to cover his nose with his free hand.
A small thought that something might not be right began to nudge his conscience. But Ithilwe ignored it, intent on being a good son for his parents.
Taking the second glass bottle into his hands, he releases the cork once more, but this time he pours the liquid directly along the bow. The amber colored liquid begins to slowly trickles down the sides and onto the tile floor. Realizing that he did not have a second rag, and with the mind of a child, he begins to use his hands to spread the the 'polish'. After several moments he frowns.
"Sticky?" is the next thought that comes to him. Raising his hand to his twitching nose, he takes a small sniff. His eyes widen. The liquid was honey! And he could finally place the smell of the other bottle....vinegar!
He had just cleaned his fathers bow with an awful smelling vinegar and honey. His hands quickly came up to his tunic and with quick movements he tries to wipe the honey from his hands.
All he succeeds in doing is making himself even stickier. Bow shaped lips begin to tremble as he realizes that his cousins had tricked him and pulled an ill minded prank. A crystal tear runs down his round cheeks. He tries to brush it off, but not only does he manage to drag honey all across his fair skin, but the bottle of vinegar finally tips in his lap, soaking the bottom half of his embroidered tunic as well as his leggings.
After these events, the elfling finally bursts out into full blown sobs, loud and high pitched.
By some fate, at that exact moment the door opens. His parents, both wearing the uniform of the archers of the House of the Heavenly Arch, stride in....only to find their child crying, surrounded by different odd liquids and the great bow, lying not two feet from him.
"By the valar...." The woman immediately rushes to the small child. She softly shushes him and runs her fingers through his silver hair.
"Ithilwe!" His father begins in a stern voice, but immediately shuts his mouth when the woman gives him a harsh look.
"My little moon, what has happened here?" Ignoring the mess, she pulls the child into her lap, her only intent on getting him to stop crying.
Ithilwe gasps for breath for several moments before broken sentences begin to spill out of his still trembling mouth.
'Ar..Arvellas and Fileg.... Told me to clean.... bow.... said Ada would be proud...They gave me vinegar and honey.....didn't know...... I am sorry Nana, Ada. Sorry...sorry..." He starts sobbing once more and buries his face into his mother's shoulder.
The ellon at the door looks stunned and quite angry. Though he swallows his pride and holds his tongue, not wanting to upset his son any further. The lady gestures towards the door with her head, signing for the other to go deal with the two troublemakers.
As he leaves, a loud voice rings clear in the hall. "Arvellas! Fileg! Come here this instant."
"Nana.....s...sorry." Ithilwe whispers, clinging to her with his sticky fingers.
The lady sighs and continues to stroke the child's hair. "I know, my little moon. Do not worry, your Ada and I are not angry at you, truly. Everything will be alright my child. I am sure that your Ada is dealing with your cousins at the moment. All will be well." With her words, the boy begins to calm down.
"Now, little moon. How about we get you cleaned up before supper, hmm?" The elleth stands proud and strong, even though with the child in her lap, vinegar and honey began to seep into her own clothing.
The elfling raises his arms to be picked up. "I love you Nana."
The elleth picks him up with ease and swings him into her arms. "I love you too, little moon."
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And so the day continued. The two trouble makers, Arvellas and Fileg were both reprimanded severely. Their punishment? To be sent with the maids of the house on cleaning duty for one month. And no weapons training for a whole year, as that was their favorite activity.
Ithilwe? So young and eager to please, he had trusted too easily. His parents doted on him for months, showing him that all was forgiven. His father even took the bow with him on his duties, even though it still smelled of vinegar and often stuck to his fingers. His son's happines meant more.
