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When Telperinquar was born, Curufinwë had imagined what he would be like when he came of age.
Of course by that point in time, Telperinquar would have had a mother-name, and it would have fit him well. Curufinwë had named his son 'Telperinquar' after seeing him for the first time, still coated in a sticky film of blood and amniotic fluid. 'Silver' out of deference to Telpalma, and 'fist' on account of the tiny fists his son shook up at the ceiling when he was born. But Telpalma could have developed something more insightful, and would have, given time.
When Telperinquar came of age, Curufinwë had imagined that he would be very tall, after the fashion of his father and grandfather and some of his uncles. There would be in the boy's face a greater mixture of Curufinwë and Telpalma's features than there had been in him as a small child. His face would shine with the light of the Two Trees, and surely as a grown nér, Telperinquar would have found his craft by now.
At least Curufinwë could say that Telperinquar had found his craft. He was, in fact, very pleased to say that Telperinquar had chosen to become a blacksmith like Curufinwë and Fëanáro before him. But as for the rest…
It amazed Curufinwë, how few of Telperinquar's features threw to his mother. In nearly every way, Telperinquar appeared as his father in miniature—tall and slim, gray-eyed and black-haired and pale-skinned. Telperinquar did not have his mother's brown hair, her brown eyes, nor her significantly darker skin. The only way he bore resemblance to Telpalma was in the rounder shape of his eyes and the wider, softer shape of his mouth. Otherwise, it was as though Telperinquar's body had forgotten entirely the influence of his mother. Perhaps the fact that his mother had never been able to give him a name said something as to why he bore her practically no resemblance.
The light of the Trees was not on his son's face. The only place Curufinwë could see it was in Telperinquar's eyes, flickering and wavering and not very strong at all. In most ways, Telperinquar was far more a child of Endóre than he was of Aman. The relatively weak light of Rána and Vása as compared to Telperion and Laurelin had retarded his growth, just as it had done to so many Noldorin children. Telperinquar looked more like Curufinwë had at thirty-five than he had when he was grown.
Telperinquar had grown up in a mixed host of Noldor and Mithrim Sindar. His childhood playmates were Sindarin children who had never known the sort of life and enlightenment the Calaquendi enjoyed in Aman. Most galling of all (and it pained Curufinwë to admit it), Telperinquar even spoke Mithrim Sindarin better than he did Quenya. He was very much a child of Endóre, whose memories of Aman were vague and flighty at best. But he had survived, and he had grown to his majority in Endóre, in eastern Beleriand.
Fëanáro could not see it, Curufinwë noted gloomily. The dead and the living could not mingle in such a way. Finwë could not see it. Nor could Nerdanel or Telpalma—and not for the first time, Curufinwë wished that he could have persuade his wife to join him across the sea. But the remaining House of Fëanáro wished to celebrate the occasion of their youngest member coming of age. To that end, Curufinwë, the rest of his brothers, his sister-in-law and Telperinquar had congregated at Himring.
Their extended family could not attend, but they sent their regards, and some of them even sent gifts. Nolofinwë sent a beautifully-wrought sword, so finely-made that Curufinwë made a note to ask his uncle who had forged it. Findekáno sent a set of knives, and Curufinwë supposed that he would have to teach Telperinquar how to use them—he had neglected this part of his son's weapons training. Irissë sent a bow made of yew, plain but strong-looking. Looking at it, Curufinwë guessed that she had made it herself; he'd seen Irissë make bows aplenty, and she tended to favor utility over aesthetics.
Findaráto's gift inspired mixed emotions. From west Beleriand there came a bundle of books, all of them quite old and written in the Quenya of the days before the Vanyar left Tirion. Curufinwë admired the beautiful artwork on the pages and the decorated leather bindings, until he realized with a jolt that these must have been some of the very few books to survive the crossing of the Grinding Ice. Perhaps more abruptly than was necessary, Curufinwë told his son to take good care of them, and would touch them himself no more.
And there was something else to consider as well.
Will Curufinwë have Telperinquar take the Oath?
In a time of darkness, Fëanáro and his seven sons swore a great and dreadful Oath before the Noldor in Tirion. They swore to retrieve Fëanáro's Silmarils, stolen by Moringotto, by any means. They swore by Ilúvatar and took Manwë and Varda as witnesses. No one would stand between them and their goal. Anyone who attempted to hinder them would be taken for enemies, no matter who they were, and would be treated as such.
"Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala… To the everlasting Darkness doom us…" Curufinwë closed his eyes.
It was Maitimo who first broached the subject with him, when they arrived in Himring a few days ago. Tyelkormo and Telperinquar went on inside, but Maitimo took Curufinwë aside and asked to speak with him privately.
"Will you have Telperinquar take the Oath?" Maitimo had asked quietly, brow deeply furrowed. He was running his fingers over the stump of his right arm, fingers twisting with ambivalence.
Truth be told, Curufinwë had not given the matter much thought. Between the establishment and governance of Himlad and the endless watch, waiting for the host of Angband to spill from its place of strength, there hadn't been much time to think on it. And Telperinquar did indeed seem a child in body still; it hadn't occurred to Curufinwë to think about him taking the Oath.
The Noldor did not allow their children to swear oaths, not even the lightest of them. An oath was no small thing—even the most trivial of them would have a will driving them. How could a child be expected to understand the weight and solemnity of an oath? As a result, the Noldor (along with the Vanyar and the Teleri) did not permit their children to swear oaths. It was not a matter of law, but it was considered horribly irresponsible parenting for a parent to let their child take an oath.
But however much he still looked like one, Telperinquar was a child no longer. Theoretically, he could swear the Oath Curufinwë and his brethren had sworn, if Curufinwë willed it.
He leaned up against the cool wall, frowning slightly. It would be good for the entire House of Fëanáro to present a united front. It would be good to have another strong Quendë among those who had sworn Fëanáro's oath. If Makalaurë and Ilmanis ever had children, if any of their other brothers ever wed and had children, those descendants would add to that strength.
Telperinquar would do it too, if Curufinwë asked him to. Curufinwë knew his son to be very trusting, eager to please. He had not the discerning eye, his father lamented; he could not see deception in others, and could not deceive. If it was asked of him, Telperinquar would swear, without suspicion, without pausing to consider the ramifications of it. Just as I swore.
Curufinwë could do that, but he wouldn't.
He must swear the Oath of his own will.
It would be very pleasing to Curufinwë, if his son was to take the Oath that he had taken in the darkness of Tirion. But Fëanáro and his sons had all sworn the Oath to recover the Silmarils of their own volition, without prompting or coercion of any kind. If Telperinquar was to swear the Oath, he must do it the same way. An oath sworn without total volition was an oath regretted.
Curufinwë hoped that, one day, Telperinquar would come to him, saying that he wished to take the Oath. Unfortunately, it seemed unlikely that that day would come soon—Telperinquar had never showed any inclination towards it as a child. But one day, perhaps he would.
The sound of a nearby door creaking open drew Curufinwë out of his thoughts. He smiled when he saw Telperinquar emerge and gently shut the door behind him. "Are you ready, Telperinquar?"
Telperinquar was dressed in his best clothes for the occasion—the sort of clothes he was not accustomed to wearing, as it happened, thus necessitating spending a bit more time getting into them than usual. Curufinwë suspected that nerves also had something to do with the long wait he had spent outside of his son's bedchamber door.
Telperinquar nodded, and Curufinwë had him pause so he could perform a last inspection before they went downstairs. His hair was combed and neatly braided. There was no food in his teeth, no dirt beneath his fingernails. His robes were clean, and weren't wrinkled or torn. Curufinwë nodded. "Let's go on down, then."
Telperinquar—Celebrimbor
Curufinwë—Curufin
Fëanáro—Fëanor
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin
Findekáno—Fingon
Irissë—Aredhel
Findaráto—Finrod
Moringotto—Morgoth
Maitimo—Maedhros
Tyelkormo—Celegorm
Makalaurë—Maglor
Nér—man (plural: neri)
Endóre—Middle-Earth (Quenya)
Rána—the Exilic name for the Moon, signifying 'The Wanderer' (Quenya)
Vása—the Exilic name for the Sun, signifying 'The Consumer' (Quenya)
Calaquendi—'Elves of Light', Elves who lived in, were born in or made the journey to Aman, especially during the Years of the Trees (singular: Calaquendë) (Quenya)
Quendë—Elf (plural: Quendi) (Quenya)