The Elder Son
(a short story)

Endal had always lived in his father’s house. Among the others who dwelt within were many like him, but Endal had always been the eldest and favoured among his father’s children. He would go where he wanted and was gifted beyond his brethren.

He basked in his father’s adoration and took comfort in his privileged place. Like all those who dwelt with his father, he was not permitted to go outside. But it mattered not. No one went outside, except Endal’s father, Athér. Endal held no grudge for this constraint, for he remained Athér’s favourite child.

When Endal’s brethren would make mischief in the house, it was he who would correct them. He took pride in being the keeper of his brothers and sisters in Athér’s household, and of being their elder, who took pride of place among Athér’s children. At times the other children would attempt to leave the house, or cause trouble within, but Endal could be relied upon to keep the peace and uphold the rules of their father.

The guards who stood at the doors of Athér’s house would smile at Endal when they saw him, and he would smile back. They knew, as did all, that he was special among Athér’s children. He could be relied upon to keep order within the house just as they guarded it from the outside, and Endal would prevent his siblings from trying to escape or cause mischief.

He would play at being a guard, marching to and fro, acting out his imaginary guard duties, and he was happy. And Athér took joy in his elder son’s youthful happiness.

Endal would often wonder what his father did when he left the house, but received no answer when he asked. But his father always knew best, Endal told himself, and he would go and play at being a guard again, or resolve some mischief caused by his brothers and sisters.

One day Athér was gone from the house for a long time, and when he returned he brought with him a wrapped bundle. When Endal asked him what was inside, Athér replied that it was a new child. He set it down on a table, and Endal looked at it. He had never seen anything quite like it, and gazed a long while at the new child, which appeared to be asleep.

He peered at it from every angle, examining every aspect of its appearance, and poked it to see how it reacted in its agitated sleep. Athér looked on, aware of his elder son’s curiosity.

At length Athér told Endal to go to his room and leave the new child be, as it needed to rest. Obedient, and yet still full of curiosity, Endal returned to his room and pondered over this new child that seemed so different and yet so familiar.

Athér’s house was very large, but over time Endal had discovered every nook and cranny and every hidden way. He had seen all Athér’s children, and all resembled Endal to a certain degree, albeit younger and of lesser ability.

The windows of the house fascinated Endal most of all. He would often gaze outside, especially when Athér left the house. The light that often shone through the glass was exceedingly bright; so much so that Endal felt pale and diminished, but he felt warmed by the glow, although it hurt his eyes.

But during the night, when the world beyond wheeled by upon its great axis, and the dark shapes and roaring winds outside could be perceived from within the house, Endal would walk alone among the darkened rooms. The dim light of his own eyes allowed him to see, and while his brethren slept he would explore the vastness of Athér’s halls. He would marvel at the vast shapes and mighty winds that shook the world outside, but nevertheless felt safe. Chaos may reign outside, but the house of Athér was safe.

Where before his curiosity had been directed to the outside, now Endal’s thoughts were almost solely of this new child of Athér. Every day he would examine the sleeping child, and Athér would look on. After a while Athér would tell Endal to leave the child alone, and Endal would obey.

When the child woke from its sleep, Athér brought it before all his children, and even the guards who stood at the doors were brought in. It was at this moment that Endal felt a shadow of resentment and sadness. Having always been his father’s favourite child, he could not help but feel belittled by the adoration and attention given to his new sibling.

‘This is Nuor’, proclaimed Athér, ‘He is my favoured child, if only for a little while’. And without so much as a glance at Endal, he took Nuor into a closed room.

At length Athér and Nuor re-emerged, and Endal perceived that Nuor had been given many gifts, and clad in raiment that made his own look ragged and flimsy. Endal had always been proud of the garments his father had given him, and yet this new child was favoured with attire so fine that Endal felt like a beggar within his father’s house.

Endal had always sought the pleasure of his father. He had rebuked his brethren whenever they broke the rules of the house. He had kept the peace and received love in return. And yet this new child, who had done nothing but been brought in from the outside, uninvited as far as Endal was concerned, was immediately favoured over Endal - or so he believed.

What had Endal done to deserve this belittlement, as he saw it? For years uncounted he had served his father with love and loyalty, and he now saw that Athér had a new favourite son.

Worse still, Nuor seemed not to notice Endal at all. At first, Endal had attempted to approach his new sibling, but Nuor ignored him or was unaware of his advances. Endal thus felt both abandoned and slighted. When he complained to his father, Athér told him to endure the change and behave in a manner more befitting of an elder brother.

But Endal’s world had been turned upside down. His grief over the perceived loss of his father’s love was made all the more bitter when he saw Athér take Nuor outside with him. Not even the guards were allowed to venture beyond the doorsteps at which they stood, and yet here was this new child being taken beyond the borders of the house while Endal was left peering out of the window.

As time went on Endal’s resentment grew. Nuor grew in stature and beauty as the days passed, and Endal could see the love and favour Athér bestowed upon his new child.

At first Endal had simply thought himself to be his father’s true and eldest son, and Nuor as a child of adoption. But with time Nuor grew to resemble Athér more so than Endal ever did, and Endal’s resentment grew.

He would often weep as he wandered the house during the twilight hours, screaming into the night’s heavy air of the injustices thrown upon him by the father he loved. But only the raging winds beyond answered his cries, and Endal felt lost and abandoned.

All Athér’s attention was on the raising of Nuor, and Endal spent more and more time brooding over the injustices he had suffered. Seeing the many and beautiful gifts that Athér gave to Nuor, Endal would at times hide them when no one was looking, or break them and replace them to make it seem as though they had been damaged by accident or neglect.

Athér was aware of Endal’s resentment, and it grieved him that his son was so hurt, but he knew it was not yet time to speak to Endal of Nuor, for Nuor was not yet fully grown, and Athér feared what might befall should Endal know the truth.

The years passed, but the day finally came when Nuor was fully grown. In beauty, wisdom and stature Nuor was a marvel to behold. In all ways Nuor resembled their father. By now Endal’s resentment had grown to hatred; a hatred all the more bitter because Nuor forgave Endal all of his mischiefs and returned his hatred with pity.

Endal hated Nuor and hated Nuor’s pity and forgiveness even more. Athér looked on as his children grew apart, and it saddened him that Endal could not overcome his jealousy. But Endal could see nothing but a new child who had done nothing to earn such favour, where he had spent years uncounted lovingly serving his father without question.

One day Athér spoke to his children again, and the guards entered the house to hear Athér’s new decree: that Nuor was to dwell outside of their father’s house in a place aside.

It was at that moment that Endal’s anger and resentment burst forth.

‘Father, for years beyond count I served you and obeyed you in all things. You loved me as your favoured son, and yet you would now give your love and favour to Nuor? One who has done nothing to earn such favour? One who has supplanted me, although I am the elder?’

Athér’s answer was silence, but he took Nuor by the hand and they went outside. The guards, who smiled at Endal no longer, locked the door behind them, and Endal could only peer from the window as Athér and Nuor disappeared into the distance. He thought he could perceive strange and wonderful shapes in the hazy distance, or was that just his imagination? There was something familiar about them that stirred his memory, but he did not dwell on the thought, for his hatred had consumed him.

At length Athér returned, but Nuor was not with him, and he finally spoke to Endal.

‘Nuor is in his rightful place, but you have forgotten yours. You speak of your obedience and love, and yet you have done naught but try to frustrate Nuor, who offered you forgiveness in return for spite. Your obedience has turned into rebellion. You have lost nothing that you already possessed, and were asked only to endure but a little. Would you disobey me even in this?’

‘I would, father’, replied Endal, ‘For you have forsaken me and given your love to another, and paid no heed to my grief. I no longer wish to be your son, and no longer shall I keep order in your house.’

‘So be it’, replied Athér. ‘You are free to leave as you will, although your place is here with your father. A wonder that you now choose to leave, when the object of your resentment has already departed.’

But Endal stood at the door and looked back at his father with tears in his eyes.

‘I will not prevent you from leaving my house’, said Athér sternly, ‘But do not expect to return as easily as you leave.’

‘And why should I seek to return? My father has forsaken me and given his love to another. Why should I seek to return?’

But Athér replied, ‘I did not say that you would seek to return of your own will. But I am your father, and to me you shall return, willing or no.’

‘Be that as it may, I shall depart from your house and forge my own path in your absence’, said Endal. ‘Your love you have given to another, and for that Nuor has my everlasting hatred.’

Athér looked upon his elder son. Endal, too, had grown. But where Nuor had grown in beauty and wisdom, Endal had grown in anger and malice, although he had acquired much knowledge. Athér grieved that his elder son had taken so hard the passing on of favour to another, even if for a little while. But Endal was now full-grown, too, and would make his own choices.

‘Goodbye, Endal’, said Athér, ‘You shall forever be my eldest son, and though the foreknowledge of your deeds grieves me beyond words, I will not prevent your departure.’

Without looking back at his father, Endal went through the door. The guards turned their faces away from him as he walked in the direction Nuor had gone, and many of his brethren followed him, seeking opportunity in Endal’s rebellion.

But within the now silent halls of Athér’s house, an old man wept.