A/N: My first attempt at a Silmarillion ficlet. Please read and review! I
haven't added anything new since I first posted this, I just fixed a few
mistakes I found.
Warning: R for slash, incest, some violence
Disclaimer: Not my characters, they all belong to Tolkien. I'm just borrowing and having some fun with them.
Curufin quickly scanned through the contents of the letter, written in Quenya so that only those of the Noldor could read it. Crumpling it in his fist, he tossed it in the fire, before barking orders to have his horse readied, and hurrying out the door of the house. His dwelling that he shared with his brother was crude by Noldor standards, but suitable for living and not uncomfortable. Curufin often thought bitterly that if their Father were to see them he would be shamed. 'Noldorin princes of the eldest line of the House of Finwe living in huts in the woods like any common Green Elf,' he thought disgustedly. 'It's disgraceful!"
Right now his brother was abroad collecting news, for, as Celegorm had said, "Nothing has been stirring of late and news does not come to us as speedily as it once did. Something is going to happen soon, I can feel it, and I plan to be prepared."
Curufin had scoffed a little, for after all, the realms of all the brothers were no more, and they were bereft of their power and glory of old. After the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the sons of Feanor had taken to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon, mingling with the Green- Elves of Ossiriand. For after that terrible battle, their arms had been scattered, their league broken, and they wandered as leaves before the wind.
When they called, their people would come, of course, but their force had been greatly diminished, and any assault against Morgoth was impossible unless they should have the help of the Hidden Realm of Gondolin and the Sindarin and Green Elves. 'That would be the day,' Curufin thought sardonically.
A few of their people had remained with the two brothers, and it was these that were readying Curufin's horse as he strode out carrying his saddlebags of food and weapons. Slinging them on, he vaulted onto the back of his horse.
Talking to those present, Curufin ordered them to gather their arms and be ready to march when he soon returned. They nodded in resigned understanding, and Curufin spurred his horse onward. 'At least they know how to follow orders. Unlike those traitorous cowards we left back in Nargothrond, who would not follow us when the brother of Finrod expelled us from that realm.'
Thinking of the directions that his brother's letter had given him, Curufin turned his horse southward and made all speed possible toward the dwelling of Maedhros and Maglor. Celegorm's letter had started off by explaining that he had heard rumors from the Green Elves that Dior Eluchil now ruled in Menegroth and wore a Silmaril upon his breast. Apparently one of the lords of the Green Elves had brought it to Dior after the death of Luthien and Beren, his parents. We have sent to him to claim our own, Celegorm wrote, but we expect him to refuse, so we are gathering our people once again. I have written to you, Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras, to call you here so we may unite once more and fulfill our Oath.
Celegorm had also written a small addendum that would seem innocuous to anyone else who read it, but to Curufin, it meant something else entirely. He had given one of his rare smiles upon reading it, and then silently wished his brother the same.
Curufin could feel the curiosity and sense of foreboding from the Green Elves in the trees around him, wondering what would send a son of Feanor speeding southward like fire. Smiling grimly, he urged his horse on, its breath steaming in the cold winter air.
Some hours later, Curufin felt the presence of Celegorm not far ahead, and he knew he was almost at his destination. Reaching a house he assumed was Maedhros and Maglor's, he quickly dismounted and was immediately assaulted by a fierce hug from Celegorm.
'I've missed you,' Curufin told him honestly in his mind.
'And I you," Celegorm returned, squeezing his brother's hand.
"Come," was all Celegorm said aloud. "I will take you to Maedhros."
Celegorm led him inside the small house and Curufin was met by the sight of Maedhros, Maglor, and Caranthir all seated around a table, papers spread in front of them. The brothers nodded in greeting to Curufin who nodded back and took a seat along with Celegorm.
"Amrod and Amras should be here soon," Celegorm said, "and then we will plan our response."
"Dior has not responded to our letter yet," Maglor reminded him. "Perhaps he will surrender the Silmaril, not wanting anymore blood to be shed."
"You know as well as I that that will not happen," Caranthir said with a derisive snort.
"Perhaps not, but we will wait a little while for his response before we act," Maedhros said firmly. "A peaceful solution is preferable."
"And when has our solution ever been peaceful?" Caranthir asked with a sneer. "Our hands are covered in blood, and that is how they shall remain whether we like it or not."
Curufin had been listening to all of this with a bored expression on his face as he traced arcane designs on the table with his knife, but now he interrupted. "Words may sway Eluchil."
He did not truly believe so, but he wanted to stave off a tirade. Caranthir was in that kind of mood, but Curufin was not in the mood to hear it.
"Well certainly not your words," Caranthir said, turning to Curufin. "Tell us again about how you were thrown out by that weakling Orodreth, despite your pretty words, and then were knocked off your horse by a mortal man who nearly strangled you to death. Words certainly helped you then."
In the blink of an eye, Curufin's knife was lodged in the table between Caranthir's middle and index finger. Any closer and it would have impaled his hand.
"Continue to talk that way and next time I won't miss," Curufin said in a soft, deadly voice.
"That's enough!" Maedhros stood up, slamming his hand onto the table. "We must be united in our pursuit of the Silmaril. I am still eldest, and I will not tolerate this kind of behavior."
He glared fiercely at each of the brothers, and all glanced away.
"We will continue this discussion tomorrow," he said with finality.
Curufin retrieved his knife with a glare at Caranthir and returned it to his sheath before getting up and walking out with Celegorm. Caranthir closely followed, while Maglor stayed inside to talk to Maedhros.
Curufin followed Celegorm inside his tent, situated next to the home of Maedhros. As soon as Curufin entered, he was knocked to the ground by Celegorm, who proceeded to passionately kiss him on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. Growling at Celegorm, Curufin wrestled with him until he ended up on top.
"It's been too long," Celegorm whispered, breathing heavily.
"I know," Curufin said, stretching full length along his brother. "But we are too close to too many people to do that sort of thing."
"At the very least I can kiss you senseless," Celegorm replied, grinning wickedly, and then proceeded to try and do that very thing.
Curufin surrendered himself to the loving embrace of his brother and stayed there contentedly through the night.
The next morning, Amrod and Amras arrived together, and Celegorm greeted them with a smile and a cuff to the shoulder. He was close to the twins, for of old they had often hunted together.
"Brother," Amrod greeted him. "Long has it been since last we met."
Celegorm nodded in agreement and asked, "What have you two been doing with yourselves?"
"Hunting," Amras supplied. "The forests here are magnificent. If it weren't for the Oath . ."
"We could stay here forever," Amrod finished.
"But the Oath is the focus of our lives," Curufin said, striding out of the tent, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "We must not forget that."
"Greetings to you too, brother," Amras said sarcastically.
"We should go to Maedhros," Curufin added, turning on his heel. "He is probably waiting for us."
Amrod and Amras rolled their eyes at Curufin's back but followed after him, Celegorm right behind them. The four strode into Maedhros's house and found Caranthir, Maedhros and Maglor already there.
After the greetings were dispensed with, Celegorm asked if word had been received from Dior. Maedhros shook his head in negation.
"He has had enough to time to respond," Celegorm said, standing up decisively. "It is time we act."
"Do not be so hasty to turn to violence," Maglor cautioned. "Winter may have slowed the delivery of his answer."
"Nay" Celegorm shook his head vehemently. "He has had time in plenty and now is the time for us to gather our arms and assault Menegroth."
Looking at his brothers for their reaction, Celegorm could see that most of them were reluctant, even hotheaded Caranthir despite all of his talk the day before.
"I see reluctance on most of your faces," Celegorm began, "and it is understandable. We all desire that the Silmarils be retrieved without bloodshed, but that is not possible!" He pounded his fist into his hand for emphasis. "Dior is Thingol's heir and as proud and haughty as his grandfather. You remember how he treated us! He refused to aid us in our righteous quest for vengeance and would not even allow us succor in his land in time of need. He subtly worked ever against us, spreading lies and deceit so that others would turn from us. His grandson is the same, and now he sits upon his throne, wearing a Silmaril upon his breast that he has no claim to, for he is not even Noldor, but one of the Moriquendi. Shall we suffer our Father's work to be sullied by this Dark Elf? Shall we abandon our Oath to retrieve the Silmarils? There was no hesitation among us the day we swore the Oath and there should be no hesitation now. We set our course that day years ago in Valinor, and we shall not be swayed from it. We are sons of Feanor, and sons of Feanor we shall remain to the end!"
Celegorm's voice was potent and at the end of his speech, all his brothers rose and drew their swords, hesitation gone from their faces. The ringing of steel as they brought them together seemed a fitting accompaniment for Caranthir's words. "By sword and by dagger, the Silmaril shall be ours!"
The next day the brothers spent preparing themselves and their people to march at next dawn. When Curufin was questioned by Celegorm as to where their people were, Curufin said he had left them behind, deciding it would be more efficient to gather them on their way to Menegroth, for the dwelling place of Curufin and Celegorm was directly in the path of the march.
Curufin discovered that someone had set up a crude forge, and that was where Celegorm found him, sweat dripping down his naked torso despite the chill of winter. His black hair pulled back from his face in a clasp, Curufin hammered at a piece of hot metal, the ringing of the steel and anvil carrying through the forest. Celegorm stood and watched silently as a wonderfully crafted sword took shape, it's pommel inlaid with the Star of Feanor in mithril and Feanorian script flowing around the border; the silvery blade long, slender, and slightly curved, with wickedly sharp edges. When he was done working it, Curufin thrust it in a bucket of water to cool off and turned to his brother.
"What can I do for you?"
"Actually I was just looking for you," Celegorm replied. "Why are you bothering to forge new swords? Couldn't one of the other craftsmen take care of that?"
"Yes," Curufin said, drying himself off, "but Maglor's sword was broken and I told him I would forge him a new one. I am the best craftsman living and my brother should have the best sword possible, not one done by someone less skilled."
"Could it be that you also miss the joys of the forge?" Celegorm asked with a sly smile. "All of us have had a chance to exercise our talents despite where we are, but you have not."
"I admit, it is joy to feel the hammer in my hand once again," Curufin said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "I regret that our circumstances prevent me from pursuing my craft."
"After we have regained the Silmarils you can forge metal and gems to your heart's content," Celegorm said, clapping his brother on the back.
Curufin nodded, but his heart foreboded that it would be Ages of this world ere his hands crafted anything again.
The next dawn, the sons of Feanor began the march to Menegroth, and Celegorm and Curufin rode ahead to prepare their people. Reaching them a half a day earlier than the main host, Curufin and Celegorm found their people ready, with swords strapped around waists, bows slung across backs, and quivers full of arrows. When the main host reached them a few hours later, they merged with it and continued onward.
In a few days, they were within striking distance of Menegroth, and Celegorm rode ahead to scout. Coming back at a gallop, he sharply reigned in his horse, jumped down, and went striding off to look for Maedhros.
Bursting into his brother's tent, Celegorm reported excitedly, "They are unaware of our coming! We must take them now while we still have the advantage."
Maedhros made a quick decision and nodded his head at Curufin to assemble the host. Curufin rode out among them on his horse, issuing orders for formations and attack plans. They showed him deference, but none of the Elves would meet Curufin's eyes. He was accustomed to people fearing him more than any other son of Feanor, for he resembled his father the most. But Curufin cared not for any of this, as long as they respected him and followed his orders.
When the host reached Menegroth, they concealed themselves in the forest, while a hand-picked few crept silently towards the gates. When they reached their destination, they scaled the gates quickly and without a sound, killing the guards before they could sound an alarm. Dropping down inside, the Noldor opened the gates to the host outside, which poured in like a flood, yelling war cries, for silence was no longer needed. Those inside the Thousand Caves organized quickly, and a fierce battle ensued. Curufin wielded his sword skillfully, his moves sure and swift as he thrust and parried. Whistling sharply at Celegorm, he fought his way past the main body of defenders and went running through the halls, searching for Dior. Celegorm promptly caught up with his brother, a few other Noldor following behind. Coming into the throne room, Curufin gave a feral grin, seeing Dior with a contingent of palace guards around him.
"Come here, Half-Elf," Curufin challenged. "Let us see if your mortal blood has made you weak. Come dance with me." He spat disdainfully on the floor.
"And which arrogant kin-slayer are you?" Dior inquired angrily, his face flushed red in spite of himself.
"Curufinwe, or Curufin in your Moriquendi tongue, at your service," Curufin replied, giving a mocking half bow.
"A son of Feanor!" Dior snarled, hatred in his eyes.
"Very good, you know who I am," Curufin said tauntingly as his sword wove complicated patterns in the air. "It is best to go to your death knowing who it is that has slain you."
Dior had had enough, and he charged Curufin with a fierce cry, his guards right behind him. Curufin met his first downward sweep and pushed upward, throwing Dior off balance. Thingol's heir staggered back a step and Curufin followed up his advantage with a series of quick strikes that Dior was barely able to block. Seeing an opening, Curufin lunged forward with a cry of victory that was turned quickly into a growl of frustration as some of Dior's people suddenly cut between the two of them. Surrounded by three Elves, Curufin brought his power and cunning to the fore to beat them off. Celegorm suddenly appeared by his side, sensing his brother's endangerment, and the two of them swiftly slew the three Elves. Celegorm suddenly gave a shout of rage, and Curufin turned in time to see Caranthir drop to his knees, crimson blood staining his hand as he clutched his chest. Caranthir met his brothers' eyes for a second, rage and pain displayed in his gray gaze. But then they slowly glazed over, and Caranthir fell sideways, his arm flung outward, palm up, displaying the blood pooled in the cup of his hand.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as everyone in the room stared at the body.
Then a whisper broke the silence.
"A son of Feanor is dead!"
These words seemed to spur Celegorm to action, and before anyone could move, one of his small daggers went slicing through the air and into the heart of the one that had stabbed Caranthir. The Elf dropped without a sound to the floor, body slumped next to dark Caranthir in a grim parody of camaraderie. The battle resumed, more heated this time, each side given renewed vigor by the death of a son of Feanor. Celegorm maneuvered his way through the battle so that he soon came face to face with Dior.
"You will pay for the death of my brother, half-breed," Celegorm snarled.
"He received nothing less than he deserved, kin-slayer" Dior replied with narrowed eyes.
Celegorm charged him with a wordless cry. Their swords slammed together and they pushed closer until their fiercely glaring faces were inches away from each other above the crossed swords. They strove silently, neither gaining an advantage, until Celegorm gave a tremendous shove, and Dior fell away from him. But in doing this, Celegorm's momentum carried his sword arm above his head, and Dior swiftly shoved his sword upward, catching Celegorm in his unprotected chest. Celegorm gave a gasp as Dior withdrew the sword, and he looked blankly down at the crimson circle that was beginning to spread over the left side of his chest.
Curufin saw and felt the whole thing as if from a great distance as Celegorm leaned against the wall, laboring for breath. Curufin screamed silently as Celegorm sank down to his knees, and suddenly his limbs began to work again. Moving more swiftly than he ever had before in his life, Curufin sped to Celegorm's side. No one dared oppose him when they looked upon his face, and he reached his brother without once having to raise his sword.
Celegorm was now on his back, and Curufin dropped to his knees beside his brother. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Curufin turned his head to see Dior standing there, looking coldly at the scene before him. Saying no word, Curufin slowly got to his feet and began advancing towards Dior. His icy eyes seemed to penetrate to the core of Thingol's heir, and Dior felt a wave of fear, for Curufin's face was terrible to behold.
Curufin's onslaught was crushing, a combination of sword and power that hit Dior like a wave and left him reeling. Dior fought back bravely, though he knew the effort was futile. When the deathblow came, he met it without fear. Looking up, his eyes met Curufin's for a second and held before blackness claimed him.
Without a second glance for the lifeless body of Dior, Curufin went once again to his brother's side. Celegorm was still alive, although Curufin could feel the life draining from him.
"My brother, my light, you can't leave me," Curufin whispered pleadingly, stroking Celegorm's hair.
"I must," Celegorm murmured back. "My time has come, my battle is finished. Rest is all I desire. Release from pain."
Celegorm weakly clasped Curufin's hand and brought it to his lips. "Remember the first time we made love?"
"How could I not?" Curufin said, throat constricted with sorrow.
"That is what I want to see before I die," Celegorm said hoarsely.
Curufin squeezed his hand in understanding. Closing his eyes, he joined his mind with his brother's, and they went back to that day, years ago . . .
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Celegorm walked into his brother's room without knocking. They never did, for they had no secrets from each other. Their closeness was a matter of some puzzlement for many people. While Celegorm, known for his quick temper, was fair and enjoyed the outdoors and hunting, Curufin, more composed than his brother, had inherited his father's darker looks and preferred the forge and gem crafting. But despite their differences, they were as close as twins, and when the sons of F?anor each chose a realm to rule, they remained together and jointly held sway over Himlad.
When Celegorm entered the room, shutting the door silently behind him, the tableau before him caused him to pause for a moment in wonderment. The room was dark except for a fire crackling in the hearth, orange tongues of flame twining sinuously about each other. Curufin stood close before the fire, naked torso turned partially toward Celegorm, facing towards an open window. The fire had thrown Curufin's profile into sharp relief, and the firelight flickered across his brother's raven hair, bringing out subtle highlights of deep red, and caressed his forge-sculpted chest. His eyes were thrown into deep shadow, and he looked like a statue of some powerful fire deity, every detail of his fierce, brooding countenance painstakingly carved out. Then, Curufin moved closer to the open window and the moment was gone.
The rain outside had begun to come down harder, and was now pattering through the open window. Celegorm crept silently over to stand next to his brother and watched as rivulets of rainwater wended their way down Curufin's chest.
Curufin broke the silence, not turning, his eyes still fixed on the gray clouds outside.
"Do you ever wonder why?" he said in a deceptively soft baritone.
"Why what?" Celegorm asked in mystification.
"Why everything." Curufin opened his arms to encompass it all.
"You're being oblique, brother," Celegorm said in exasperation.
Curufin turned then, his intense gray eyes staring into Celegorm's dark blue ones. "Why must it rain? Why are we here? Why were we born sons of Feanor? And why, why, why must we pursue this cursed Oath?! Pain and toil and suffering, and what have we achieved? Nothing!"
He voice had become louder and more vehement, and as he lowered his arms, Celegorm saw his hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles whitened from the strain.
Alarmed, Celegorm moved closer to him and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"What madness has come upon you, Curufin? Why do you speak this way?" Celegorm asked in anxiety. "Out of all our brothers, you have always been the one most determined to fulfill the Oath. You completely agreed with the actions of Father."
Curufin shook off Celegorm's hand and moved closer to the fire, bracing his arms against the mantle. "I know, I know. It is just this storm. It has made me pensive and put me in a black mood. I am not feeling myself."
Celegorm moved the Curufin's side, and taking his brother's arm, gently uncurled his fisted hand. With fingers lightly stroking his brother's palm, Celegorm tried to soothe him. 'This is certainly a reversal,' he thought with faint amusement. 'Usually it will be Curufin who calms me when my temper flares.'
Celegorm moved closer to his brother so that their bodies were touching and rested his head on Curufin's shoulder, offering comfort with his solid presence.
Curufin stiffened slightly as Celegorm's head came to rest on his shoulder, a few strands of the silky hair falling across to brush his nipple. It was not as though they had never touched before, but now, the seductive warmth of the fire and the raging storm outside conjured up forbidden thoughts. Thoughts he had had before, but they had always been fleeting and he had buried them ruthlessly, never allowing himself to dwell on them for even a moment. But now it seemed as if every forbidden image he had ever conceived about his brother suddenly broke free from behind the walls in his mind, swirling about like a flood, and causing him to bite back a groan of misery and longing. Celegorm had turned his face to look up at Curufin, sensing his anxiety, and when Curufin turned his head as well and saw the sensuous mouth so close to his own, he did the only thing he could.
The kiss was devastatingly sweet and unbearable at the same time, and it made Curufin reel inside. He unconsciously deepened it, wanting the moment to last forever. When he felt Celegorm break it off, he reluctantly looked into his brother's eyes, expecting to find anger and disgust written there. But the sad resignation he found there instead bewildered him.
"Why did you have to do that?" Celegorm whispered, now standing chest to chest with his brother.
"What?" was all Curufin could find to say, astonished as he was by what was taking place.
"We had both managed to bury our desire in the deepest recesses of our minds, and now you have broken it all open."
"You mean you feel the same as I?"
"Of course I do, you fool," Celegorm said roughly. "You know how close we are, closer than brothers. We can sense each other's deepest thoughts and feelings, for the gods' sake."
"But I've never sensed such desires in you," Curufin argued.
"Oh you have," Celegorm replied with a small, grim smile. "You have just denied your own feelings so vehemently that mine passed by unnoticed."
"Why did you never say anything?" Curufin asked, caressing the velvety skin of Celegorm's throat with his fingers.
Celegorm captured Curufin's roving hand in his own and pressed it flat against his chest.
"Because we both know it is wrong."
"You would have us deny our hearts?"
"Yes," Celegorm said, resolved. "I would not have us be damned."
"We already are," Curufin said in a hard voice.
Celegorm was silent, not needing to ask what his brother referred to.
"If we must be damned and we do this thing, than at least we will be together," Curufin pressed on softly, sensing Celegorm weakening. "Let us find some joy in this world of suffering."
He gently pressed his lips to Celegorm's, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother. The kiss was just as sweet as the first one, and as Curufin broke away, he read the defeat in his brother's eyes.
"You know I cannot refuse," Celegorm murmured against Curufin's mouth.
Curufin tugged him over the bed, quickly shedding his remaining garments before sprawling out on his back on the bed. Celegorm took longer undressing, carefully removing his tunic.
Sensing his brother's eyes on him, he turned around and asked demandingly, "What are you staring at?"
Curufin smiled. "Your ravishing body. Please continue, I am utterly enthralled."
Celegorm rolled his eyes, but finished undressing and turned to face his brother.
"Well?"
Curufin's only answer was to grab Celegorm's waist and pull the other Elf down on top of him, so their bodies were pressed together. They explored each other with mouth and hands, finding the places that gave the most pleasure, caressing chest, ears, neck, leaving no place untouched. The passion between them was electrifying, and Curufin thought he had never experienced anything so exquisite in his entire life. When his brother took him into his mouth, all thoughts ceased, and Curufin felt himself spiraling down into ecstasy. Shouting his climax to the heavens, the small rational part of him that remained hoped that no one happened to be walking by his room at the time. But all such concerns vanished when he looked up and saw his brother above him, panting and aching with need. Curufin wrapped his arms around Celegorm and threw him to the bed, reversing their positions. Celegorm's legs were splayed wide, the need in his eyes clear. Curufin nodded in understanding as he caressed the inside of his brother's thigh, teasing the ticklish skin. Sliding between Celegorm's legs, Curufin prepared his brother and then began to slowly push. Celegorm's eyes closed in intense pleasure as he was impaled, and a breathless moan escaped him as Curufin began to move.
Placing his hand on Celegorm's heart, Curufin murmured a single word into his mind.
'Beloved.'
'Forever,' Celegorm affirmed, his love for his brother welling up.
Their motions turned more frenzied at the frissions of pleasure suffusing them every time they moved. Curufin sank deeply into his brother, wanting to take as much of him as possible. When they could hold on no longer, the two Elves climaxed at the same time, each groaning the other's name. They lay there enervated, Curufin half on top of his brother, and whispered in each other's minds, words of love and comfort. For this night at least, they were free of the Oath.
The next morning Curufin woke up to find himself still entwined with his brother, the evidence of their passion upon their stomachs. Remembering something he had wanted to do last night, Curufin got up and went to his drawer, digging down in it until he found what he sought. Returning to the bed, he wakened his brother with a kiss.
When Celegorm's eyes had cleared, Curufin leaned forward, smirking at his brother. "I see your name does not refer to your sleeping habits."*
Celegorm narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance and then noticing something, gave a delighted smirk.
"I hope your clothes will cover that," he remarked innocently, gesturing to his brother's neck.
Curufin's probing fingers discovered a mark at the juncture between his shoulder and neck and he glared at Celegorm.
Celegorm shrugged. "Well you gave me one too." And he showed Curufin the side of his chest.
"Yes, but your clothes will cover that," Curufin said, still glaring.
"So will yours. Just wear something with a collar."
Curufin sighed in resignation and returned to the reason that he had wakened Celegorm.
Holding up the object he had retrieved from the drawer he said, "Here. I made this some time ago for you."
Curufin placed around his brother's neck a cunningly crafted pendant made of moonstone and emerald in the shape of the Star of their House.
"It is beautiful," Celegorm said, turning it over in his hands. "Why did you not give it to me before?"
"I fashioned it on a whim. When I was done I had no idea why I had crafted it, but then I realized last night that I had made it for you."
**************************************************************************** **
Smiling faintly at the memory, Curufin brushed the jewel with the tips of his fingers.
"I never took it off after that day," Celegorm said, noticing.
They both gazed at the pendant for a moment, but then Celegorm's fair face suddenly constricted, his back arching off the floor as a searing pain lanced through him
The fog of death slowly crept into his mind, and turning regret-filled eyes to Curufin, he gasped out one last word. "Beloved."
"Forever," Curufin finished, watching as his brother's face relaxed and his breathing halted.
So he did not notice when a dagger descended toward his unprotected back. A gasp was torn from him as cold metal slid between his ribs, blood welling around the wound. The aim was true, and Curufin could feel his life ebbing away like the tides. With an effort he took Celegorm's hand in his own and gazed one last time upon the beloved face of his dead brother.
Never had Curufin shed a single tear since they had come to Middle Earth, but now, at the hour of his death, one single drop slid down from the corner of his eye. One tear, for his brothers, for himself, for the Noldor, and in that tear was contained all his shame and regret. The droplet of water made its way from the corner of his eye, moving slowly down his cheek. It hung there suspended for a moment, winking softly in the light like a jewel, and then it fell. It seemed to Curufin that an eternity went by as the drop fell, for in its clear depths he saw all that had passed and all that was to come for the Noldor, and when it landed on his brother's sword, it washed away a small line of blood, leaving a clean, unbroken path. And as Curufin's eyes closed and his body relaxed beside his brother, he smiled, for he knew.
*Celegorm's name in Quenya is Tyelkormo which means "Hasty Riser"
Warning: R for slash, incest, some violence
Disclaimer: Not my characters, they all belong to Tolkien. I'm just borrowing and having some fun with them.
Curufin quickly scanned through the contents of the letter, written in Quenya so that only those of the Noldor could read it. Crumpling it in his fist, he tossed it in the fire, before barking orders to have his horse readied, and hurrying out the door of the house. His dwelling that he shared with his brother was crude by Noldor standards, but suitable for living and not uncomfortable. Curufin often thought bitterly that if their Father were to see them he would be shamed. 'Noldorin princes of the eldest line of the House of Finwe living in huts in the woods like any common Green Elf,' he thought disgustedly. 'It's disgraceful!"
Right now his brother was abroad collecting news, for, as Celegorm had said, "Nothing has been stirring of late and news does not come to us as speedily as it once did. Something is going to happen soon, I can feel it, and I plan to be prepared."
Curufin had scoffed a little, for after all, the realms of all the brothers were no more, and they were bereft of their power and glory of old. After the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the sons of Feanor had taken to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet of Ered Lindon, mingling with the Green- Elves of Ossiriand. For after that terrible battle, their arms had been scattered, their league broken, and they wandered as leaves before the wind.
When they called, their people would come, of course, but their force had been greatly diminished, and any assault against Morgoth was impossible unless they should have the help of the Hidden Realm of Gondolin and the Sindarin and Green Elves. 'That would be the day,' Curufin thought sardonically.
A few of their people had remained with the two brothers, and it was these that were readying Curufin's horse as he strode out carrying his saddlebags of food and weapons. Slinging them on, he vaulted onto the back of his horse.
Talking to those present, Curufin ordered them to gather their arms and be ready to march when he soon returned. They nodded in resigned understanding, and Curufin spurred his horse onward. 'At least they know how to follow orders. Unlike those traitorous cowards we left back in Nargothrond, who would not follow us when the brother of Finrod expelled us from that realm.'
Thinking of the directions that his brother's letter had given him, Curufin turned his horse southward and made all speed possible toward the dwelling of Maedhros and Maglor. Celegorm's letter had started off by explaining that he had heard rumors from the Green Elves that Dior Eluchil now ruled in Menegroth and wore a Silmaril upon his breast. Apparently one of the lords of the Green Elves had brought it to Dior after the death of Luthien and Beren, his parents. We have sent to him to claim our own, Celegorm wrote, but we expect him to refuse, so we are gathering our people once again. I have written to you, Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras, to call you here so we may unite once more and fulfill our Oath.
Celegorm had also written a small addendum that would seem innocuous to anyone else who read it, but to Curufin, it meant something else entirely. He had given one of his rare smiles upon reading it, and then silently wished his brother the same.
Curufin could feel the curiosity and sense of foreboding from the Green Elves in the trees around him, wondering what would send a son of Feanor speeding southward like fire. Smiling grimly, he urged his horse on, its breath steaming in the cold winter air.
Some hours later, Curufin felt the presence of Celegorm not far ahead, and he knew he was almost at his destination. Reaching a house he assumed was Maedhros and Maglor's, he quickly dismounted and was immediately assaulted by a fierce hug from Celegorm.
'I've missed you,' Curufin told him honestly in his mind.
'And I you," Celegorm returned, squeezing his brother's hand.
"Come," was all Celegorm said aloud. "I will take you to Maedhros."
Celegorm led him inside the small house and Curufin was met by the sight of Maedhros, Maglor, and Caranthir all seated around a table, papers spread in front of them. The brothers nodded in greeting to Curufin who nodded back and took a seat along with Celegorm.
"Amrod and Amras should be here soon," Celegorm said, "and then we will plan our response."
"Dior has not responded to our letter yet," Maglor reminded him. "Perhaps he will surrender the Silmaril, not wanting anymore blood to be shed."
"You know as well as I that that will not happen," Caranthir said with a derisive snort.
"Perhaps not, but we will wait a little while for his response before we act," Maedhros said firmly. "A peaceful solution is preferable."
"And when has our solution ever been peaceful?" Caranthir asked with a sneer. "Our hands are covered in blood, and that is how they shall remain whether we like it or not."
Curufin had been listening to all of this with a bored expression on his face as he traced arcane designs on the table with his knife, but now he interrupted. "Words may sway Eluchil."
He did not truly believe so, but he wanted to stave off a tirade. Caranthir was in that kind of mood, but Curufin was not in the mood to hear it.
"Well certainly not your words," Caranthir said, turning to Curufin. "Tell us again about how you were thrown out by that weakling Orodreth, despite your pretty words, and then were knocked off your horse by a mortal man who nearly strangled you to death. Words certainly helped you then."
In the blink of an eye, Curufin's knife was lodged in the table between Caranthir's middle and index finger. Any closer and it would have impaled his hand.
"Continue to talk that way and next time I won't miss," Curufin said in a soft, deadly voice.
"That's enough!" Maedhros stood up, slamming his hand onto the table. "We must be united in our pursuit of the Silmaril. I am still eldest, and I will not tolerate this kind of behavior."
He glared fiercely at each of the brothers, and all glanced away.
"We will continue this discussion tomorrow," he said with finality.
Curufin retrieved his knife with a glare at Caranthir and returned it to his sheath before getting up and walking out with Celegorm. Caranthir closely followed, while Maglor stayed inside to talk to Maedhros.
Curufin followed Celegorm inside his tent, situated next to the home of Maedhros. As soon as Curufin entered, he was knocked to the ground by Celegorm, who proceeded to passionately kiss him on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. Growling at Celegorm, Curufin wrestled with him until he ended up on top.
"It's been too long," Celegorm whispered, breathing heavily.
"I know," Curufin said, stretching full length along his brother. "But we are too close to too many people to do that sort of thing."
"At the very least I can kiss you senseless," Celegorm replied, grinning wickedly, and then proceeded to try and do that very thing.
Curufin surrendered himself to the loving embrace of his brother and stayed there contentedly through the night.
The next morning, Amrod and Amras arrived together, and Celegorm greeted them with a smile and a cuff to the shoulder. He was close to the twins, for of old they had often hunted together.
"Brother," Amrod greeted him. "Long has it been since last we met."
Celegorm nodded in agreement and asked, "What have you two been doing with yourselves?"
"Hunting," Amras supplied. "The forests here are magnificent. If it weren't for the Oath . ."
"We could stay here forever," Amrod finished.
"But the Oath is the focus of our lives," Curufin said, striding out of the tent, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "We must not forget that."
"Greetings to you too, brother," Amras said sarcastically.
"We should go to Maedhros," Curufin added, turning on his heel. "He is probably waiting for us."
Amrod and Amras rolled their eyes at Curufin's back but followed after him, Celegorm right behind them. The four strode into Maedhros's house and found Caranthir, Maedhros and Maglor already there.
After the greetings were dispensed with, Celegorm asked if word had been received from Dior. Maedhros shook his head in negation.
"He has had enough to time to respond," Celegorm said, standing up decisively. "It is time we act."
"Do not be so hasty to turn to violence," Maglor cautioned. "Winter may have slowed the delivery of his answer."
"Nay" Celegorm shook his head vehemently. "He has had time in plenty and now is the time for us to gather our arms and assault Menegroth."
Looking at his brothers for their reaction, Celegorm could see that most of them were reluctant, even hotheaded Caranthir despite all of his talk the day before.
"I see reluctance on most of your faces," Celegorm began, "and it is understandable. We all desire that the Silmarils be retrieved without bloodshed, but that is not possible!" He pounded his fist into his hand for emphasis. "Dior is Thingol's heir and as proud and haughty as his grandfather. You remember how he treated us! He refused to aid us in our righteous quest for vengeance and would not even allow us succor in his land in time of need. He subtly worked ever against us, spreading lies and deceit so that others would turn from us. His grandson is the same, and now he sits upon his throne, wearing a Silmaril upon his breast that he has no claim to, for he is not even Noldor, but one of the Moriquendi. Shall we suffer our Father's work to be sullied by this Dark Elf? Shall we abandon our Oath to retrieve the Silmarils? There was no hesitation among us the day we swore the Oath and there should be no hesitation now. We set our course that day years ago in Valinor, and we shall not be swayed from it. We are sons of Feanor, and sons of Feanor we shall remain to the end!"
Celegorm's voice was potent and at the end of his speech, all his brothers rose and drew their swords, hesitation gone from their faces. The ringing of steel as they brought them together seemed a fitting accompaniment for Caranthir's words. "By sword and by dagger, the Silmaril shall be ours!"
The next day the brothers spent preparing themselves and their people to march at next dawn. When Curufin was questioned by Celegorm as to where their people were, Curufin said he had left them behind, deciding it would be more efficient to gather them on their way to Menegroth, for the dwelling place of Curufin and Celegorm was directly in the path of the march.
Curufin discovered that someone had set up a crude forge, and that was where Celegorm found him, sweat dripping down his naked torso despite the chill of winter. His black hair pulled back from his face in a clasp, Curufin hammered at a piece of hot metal, the ringing of the steel and anvil carrying through the forest. Celegorm stood and watched silently as a wonderfully crafted sword took shape, it's pommel inlaid with the Star of Feanor in mithril and Feanorian script flowing around the border; the silvery blade long, slender, and slightly curved, with wickedly sharp edges. When he was done working it, Curufin thrust it in a bucket of water to cool off and turned to his brother.
"What can I do for you?"
"Actually I was just looking for you," Celegorm replied. "Why are you bothering to forge new swords? Couldn't one of the other craftsmen take care of that?"
"Yes," Curufin said, drying himself off, "but Maglor's sword was broken and I told him I would forge him a new one. I am the best craftsman living and my brother should have the best sword possible, not one done by someone less skilled."
"Could it be that you also miss the joys of the forge?" Celegorm asked with a sly smile. "All of us have had a chance to exercise our talents despite where we are, but you have not."
"I admit, it is joy to feel the hammer in my hand once again," Curufin said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "I regret that our circumstances prevent me from pursuing my craft."
"After we have regained the Silmarils you can forge metal and gems to your heart's content," Celegorm said, clapping his brother on the back.
Curufin nodded, but his heart foreboded that it would be Ages of this world ere his hands crafted anything again.
The next dawn, the sons of Feanor began the march to Menegroth, and Celegorm and Curufin rode ahead to prepare their people. Reaching them a half a day earlier than the main host, Curufin and Celegorm found their people ready, with swords strapped around waists, bows slung across backs, and quivers full of arrows. When the main host reached them a few hours later, they merged with it and continued onward.
In a few days, they were within striking distance of Menegroth, and Celegorm rode ahead to scout. Coming back at a gallop, he sharply reigned in his horse, jumped down, and went striding off to look for Maedhros.
Bursting into his brother's tent, Celegorm reported excitedly, "They are unaware of our coming! We must take them now while we still have the advantage."
Maedhros made a quick decision and nodded his head at Curufin to assemble the host. Curufin rode out among them on his horse, issuing orders for formations and attack plans. They showed him deference, but none of the Elves would meet Curufin's eyes. He was accustomed to people fearing him more than any other son of Feanor, for he resembled his father the most. But Curufin cared not for any of this, as long as they respected him and followed his orders.
When the host reached Menegroth, they concealed themselves in the forest, while a hand-picked few crept silently towards the gates. When they reached their destination, they scaled the gates quickly and without a sound, killing the guards before they could sound an alarm. Dropping down inside, the Noldor opened the gates to the host outside, which poured in like a flood, yelling war cries, for silence was no longer needed. Those inside the Thousand Caves organized quickly, and a fierce battle ensued. Curufin wielded his sword skillfully, his moves sure and swift as he thrust and parried. Whistling sharply at Celegorm, he fought his way past the main body of defenders and went running through the halls, searching for Dior. Celegorm promptly caught up with his brother, a few other Noldor following behind. Coming into the throne room, Curufin gave a feral grin, seeing Dior with a contingent of palace guards around him.
"Come here, Half-Elf," Curufin challenged. "Let us see if your mortal blood has made you weak. Come dance with me." He spat disdainfully on the floor.
"And which arrogant kin-slayer are you?" Dior inquired angrily, his face flushed red in spite of himself.
"Curufinwe, or Curufin in your Moriquendi tongue, at your service," Curufin replied, giving a mocking half bow.
"A son of Feanor!" Dior snarled, hatred in his eyes.
"Very good, you know who I am," Curufin said tauntingly as his sword wove complicated patterns in the air. "It is best to go to your death knowing who it is that has slain you."
Dior had had enough, and he charged Curufin with a fierce cry, his guards right behind him. Curufin met his first downward sweep and pushed upward, throwing Dior off balance. Thingol's heir staggered back a step and Curufin followed up his advantage with a series of quick strikes that Dior was barely able to block. Seeing an opening, Curufin lunged forward with a cry of victory that was turned quickly into a growl of frustration as some of Dior's people suddenly cut between the two of them. Surrounded by three Elves, Curufin brought his power and cunning to the fore to beat them off. Celegorm suddenly appeared by his side, sensing his brother's endangerment, and the two of them swiftly slew the three Elves. Celegorm suddenly gave a shout of rage, and Curufin turned in time to see Caranthir drop to his knees, crimson blood staining his hand as he clutched his chest. Caranthir met his brothers' eyes for a second, rage and pain displayed in his gray gaze. But then they slowly glazed over, and Caranthir fell sideways, his arm flung outward, palm up, displaying the blood pooled in the cup of his hand.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as everyone in the room stared at the body.
Then a whisper broke the silence.
"A son of Feanor is dead!"
These words seemed to spur Celegorm to action, and before anyone could move, one of his small daggers went slicing through the air and into the heart of the one that had stabbed Caranthir. The Elf dropped without a sound to the floor, body slumped next to dark Caranthir in a grim parody of camaraderie. The battle resumed, more heated this time, each side given renewed vigor by the death of a son of Feanor. Celegorm maneuvered his way through the battle so that he soon came face to face with Dior.
"You will pay for the death of my brother, half-breed," Celegorm snarled.
"He received nothing less than he deserved, kin-slayer" Dior replied with narrowed eyes.
Celegorm charged him with a wordless cry. Their swords slammed together and they pushed closer until their fiercely glaring faces were inches away from each other above the crossed swords. They strove silently, neither gaining an advantage, until Celegorm gave a tremendous shove, and Dior fell away from him. But in doing this, Celegorm's momentum carried his sword arm above his head, and Dior swiftly shoved his sword upward, catching Celegorm in his unprotected chest. Celegorm gave a gasp as Dior withdrew the sword, and he looked blankly down at the crimson circle that was beginning to spread over the left side of his chest.
Curufin saw and felt the whole thing as if from a great distance as Celegorm leaned against the wall, laboring for breath. Curufin screamed silently as Celegorm sank down to his knees, and suddenly his limbs began to work again. Moving more swiftly than he ever had before in his life, Curufin sped to Celegorm's side. No one dared oppose him when they looked upon his face, and he reached his brother without once having to raise his sword.
Celegorm was now on his back, and Curufin dropped to his knees beside his brother. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Curufin turned his head to see Dior standing there, looking coldly at the scene before him. Saying no word, Curufin slowly got to his feet and began advancing towards Dior. His icy eyes seemed to penetrate to the core of Thingol's heir, and Dior felt a wave of fear, for Curufin's face was terrible to behold.
Curufin's onslaught was crushing, a combination of sword and power that hit Dior like a wave and left him reeling. Dior fought back bravely, though he knew the effort was futile. When the deathblow came, he met it without fear. Looking up, his eyes met Curufin's for a second and held before blackness claimed him.
Without a second glance for the lifeless body of Dior, Curufin went once again to his brother's side. Celegorm was still alive, although Curufin could feel the life draining from him.
"My brother, my light, you can't leave me," Curufin whispered pleadingly, stroking Celegorm's hair.
"I must," Celegorm murmured back. "My time has come, my battle is finished. Rest is all I desire. Release from pain."
Celegorm weakly clasped Curufin's hand and brought it to his lips. "Remember the first time we made love?"
"How could I not?" Curufin said, throat constricted with sorrow.
"That is what I want to see before I die," Celegorm said hoarsely.
Curufin squeezed his hand in understanding. Closing his eyes, he joined his mind with his brother's, and they went back to that day, years ago . . .
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Celegorm walked into his brother's room without knocking. They never did, for they had no secrets from each other. Their closeness was a matter of some puzzlement for many people. While Celegorm, known for his quick temper, was fair and enjoyed the outdoors and hunting, Curufin, more composed than his brother, had inherited his father's darker looks and preferred the forge and gem crafting. But despite their differences, they were as close as twins, and when the sons of F?anor each chose a realm to rule, they remained together and jointly held sway over Himlad.
When Celegorm entered the room, shutting the door silently behind him, the tableau before him caused him to pause for a moment in wonderment. The room was dark except for a fire crackling in the hearth, orange tongues of flame twining sinuously about each other. Curufin stood close before the fire, naked torso turned partially toward Celegorm, facing towards an open window. The fire had thrown Curufin's profile into sharp relief, and the firelight flickered across his brother's raven hair, bringing out subtle highlights of deep red, and caressed his forge-sculpted chest. His eyes were thrown into deep shadow, and he looked like a statue of some powerful fire deity, every detail of his fierce, brooding countenance painstakingly carved out. Then, Curufin moved closer to the open window and the moment was gone.
The rain outside had begun to come down harder, and was now pattering through the open window. Celegorm crept silently over to stand next to his brother and watched as rivulets of rainwater wended their way down Curufin's chest.
Curufin broke the silence, not turning, his eyes still fixed on the gray clouds outside.
"Do you ever wonder why?" he said in a deceptively soft baritone.
"Why what?" Celegorm asked in mystification.
"Why everything." Curufin opened his arms to encompass it all.
"You're being oblique, brother," Celegorm said in exasperation.
Curufin turned then, his intense gray eyes staring into Celegorm's dark blue ones. "Why must it rain? Why are we here? Why were we born sons of Feanor? And why, why, why must we pursue this cursed Oath?! Pain and toil and suffering, and what have we achieved? Nothing!"
He voice had become louder and more vehement, and as he lowered his arms, Celegorm saw his hands were clenched into tight fists, knuckles whitened from the strain.
Alarmed, Celegorm moved closer to him and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"What madness has come upon you, Curufin? Why do you speak this way?" Celegorm asked in anxiety. "Out of all our brothers, you have always been the one most determined to fulfill the Oath. You completely agreed with the actions of Father."
Curufin shook off Celegorm's hand and moved closer to the fire, bracing his arms against the mantle. "I know, I know. It is just this storm. It has made me pensive and put me in a black mood. I am not feeling myself."
Celegorm moved the Curufin's side, and taking his brother's arm, gently uncurled his fisted hand. With fingers lightly stroking his brother's palm, Celegorm tried to soothe him. 'This is certainly a reversal,' he thought with faint amusement. 'Usually it will be Curufin who calms me when my temper flares.'
Celegorm moved closer to his brother so that their bodies were touching and rested his head on Curufin's shoulder, offering comfort with his solid presence.
Curufin stiffened slightly as Celegorm's head came to rest on his shoulder, a few strands of the silky hair falling across to brush his nipple. It was not as though they had never touched before, but now, the seductive warmth of the fire and the raging storm outside conjured up forbidden thoughts. Thoughts he had had before, but they had always been fleeting and he had buried them ruthlessly, never allowing himself to dwell on them for even a moment. But now it seemed as if every forbidden image he had ever conceived about his brother suddenly broke free from behind the walls in his mind, swirling about like a flood, and causing him to bite back a groan of misery and longing. Celegorm had turned his face to look up at Curufin, sensing his anxiety, and when Curufin turned his head as well and saw the sensuous mouth so close to his own, he did the only thing he could.
The kiss was devastatingly sweet and unbearable at the same time, and it made Curufin reel inside. He unconsciously deepened it, wanting the moment to last forever. When he felt Celegorm break it off, he reluctantly looked into his brother's eyes, expecting to find anger and disgust written there. But the sad resignation he found there instead bewildered him.
"Why did you have to do that?" Celegorm whispered, now standing chest to chest with his brother.
"What?" was all Curufin could find to say, astonished as he was by what was taking place.
"We had both managed to bury our desire in the deepest recesses of our minds, and now you have broken it all open."
"You mean you feel the same as I?"
"Of course I do, you fool," Celegorm said roughly. "You know how close we are, closer than brothers. We can sense each other's deepest thoughts and feelings, for the gods' sake."
"But I've never sensed such desires in you," Curufin argued.
"Oh you have," Celegorm replied with a small, grim smile. "You have just denied your own feelings so vehemently that mine passed by unnoticed."
"Why did you never say anything?" Curufin asked, caressing the velvety skin of Celegorm's throat with his fingers.
Celegorm captured Curufin's roving hand in his own and pressed it flat against his chest.
"Because we both know it is wrong."
"You would have us deny our hearts?"
"Yes," Celegorm said, resolved. "I would not have us be damned."
"We already are," Curufin said in a hard voice.
Celegorm was silent, not needing to ask what his brother referred to.
"If we must be damned and we do this thing, than at least we will be together," Curufin pressed on softly, sensing Celegorm weakening. "Let us find some joy in this world of suffering."
He gently pressed his lips to Celegorm's, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother. The kiss was just as sweet as the first one, and as Curufin broke away, he read the defeat in his brother's eyes.
"You know I cannot refuse," Celegorm murmured against Curufin's mouth.
Curufin tugged him over the bed, quickly shedding his remaining garments before sprawling out on his back on the bed. Celegorm took longer undressing, carefully removing his tunic.
Sensing his brother's eyes on him, he turned around and asked demandingly, "What are you staring at?"
Curufin smiled. "Your ravishing body. Please continue, I am utterly enthralled."
Celegorm rolled his eyes, but finished undressing and turned to face his brother.
"Well?"
Curufin's only answer was to grab Celegorm's waist and pull the other Elf down on top of him, so their bodies were pressed together. They explored each other with mouth and hands, finding the places that gave the most pleasure, caressing chest, ears, neck, leaving no place untouched. The passion between them was electrifying, and Curufin thought he had never experienced anything so exquisite in his entire life. When his brother took him into his mouth, all thoughts ceased, and Curufin felt himself spiraling down into ecstasy. Shouting his climax to the heavens, the small rational part of him that remained hoped that no one happened to be walking by his room at the time. But all such concerns vanished when he looked up and saw his brother above him, panting and aching with need. Curufin wrapped his arms around Celegorm and threw him to the bed, reversing their positions. Celegorm's legs were splayed wide, the need in his eyes clear. Curufin nodded in understanding as he caressed the inside of his brother's thigh, teasing the ticklish skin. Sliding between Celegorm's legs, Curufin prepared his brother and then began to slowly push. Celegorm's eyes closed in intense pleasure as he was impaled, and a breathless moan escaped him as Curufin began to move.
Placing his hand on Celegorm's heart, Curufin murmured a single word into his mind.
'Beloved.'
'Forever,' Celegorm affirmed, his love for his brother welling up.
Their motions turned more frenzied at the frissions of pleasure suffusing them every time they moved. Curufin sank deeply into his brother, wanting to take as much of him as possible. When they could hold on no longer, the two Elves climaxed at the same time, each groaning the other's name. They lay there enervated, Curufin half on top of his brother, and whispered in each other's minds, words of love and comfort. For this night at least, they were free of the Oath.
The next morning Curufin woke up to find himself still entwined with his brother, the evidence of their passion upon their stomachs. Remembering something he had wanted to do last night, Curufin got up and went to his drawer, digging down in it until he found what he sought. Returning to the bed, he wakened his brother with a kiss.
When Celegorm's eyes had cleared, Curufin leaned forward, smirking at his brother. "I see your name does not refer to your sleeping habits."*
Celegorm narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance and then noticing something, gave a delighted smirk.
"I hope your clothes will cover that," he remarked innocently, gesturing to his brother's neck.
Curufin's probing fingers discovered a mark at the juncture between his shoulder and neck and he glared at Celegorm.
Celegorm shrugged. "Well you gave me one too." And he showed Curufin the side of his chest.
"Yes, but your clothes will cover that," Curufin said, still glaring.
"So will yours. Just wear something with a collar."
Curufin sighed in resignation and returned to the reason that he had wakened Celegorm.
Holding up the object he had retrieved from the drawer he said, "Here. I made this some time ago for you."
Curufin placed around his brother's neck a cunningly crafted pendant made of moonstone and emerald in the shape of the Star of their House.
"It is beautiful," Celegorm said, turning it over in his hands. "Why did you not give it to me before?"
"I fashioned it on a whim. When I was done I had no idea why I had crafted it, but then I realized last night that I had made it for you."
**************************************************************************** **
Smiling faintly at the memory, Curufin brushed the jewel with the tips of his fingers.
"I never took it off after that day," Celegorm said, noticing.
They both gazed at the pendant for a moment, but then Celegorm's fair face suddenly constricted, his back arching off the floor as a searing pain lanced through him
The fog of death slowly crept into his mind, and turning regret-filled eyes to Curufin, he gasped out one last word. "Beloved."
"Forever," Curufin finished, watching as his brother's face relaxed and his breathing halted.
So he did not notice when a dagger descended toward his unprotected back. A gasp was torn from him as cold metal slid between his ribs, blood welling around the wound. The aim was true, and Curufin could feel his life ebbing away like the tides. With an effort he took Celegorm's hand in his own and gazed one last time upon the beloved face of his dead brother.
Never had Curufin shed a single tear since they had come to Middle Earth, but now, at the hour of his death, one single drop slid down from the corner of his eye. One tear, for his brothers, for himself, for the Noldor, and in that tear was contained all his shame and regret. The droplet of water made its way from the corner of his eye, moving slowly down his cheek. It hung there suspended for a moment, winking softly in the light like a jewel, and then it fell. It seemed to Curufin that an eternity went by as the drop fell, for in its clear depths he saw all that had passed and all that was to come for the Noldor, and when it landed on his brother's sword, it washed away a small line of blood, leaving a clean, unbroken path. And as Curufin's eyes closed and his body relaxed beside his brother, he smiled, for he knew.
*Celegorm's name in Quenya is Tyelkormo which means "Hasty Riser"