I own nothing.
Maitimo and Tyelkormo said that they would cover his shift in helping to erect the wall meant to surround their encampment, and though to Curufinwë it felt disloyal, there was no helping it. If he was honest, it relieved him to have his son so close in this darkness, in this strange land.
Telperinquar has finally gone back to sleep. Makalaurë said that he was crying the entire time Curufinwë was gone, something Ilmanis and Carnistir have confirmed, the latter with a bleary-eyed, irritable look on his face. None of them could get the child to calm down, and even Curufinwë had trouble calming him, getting him to sleep, getting those tears to stop rolling down his cheeks.
Mama! Mama! I want Mama!
She's not here. Go to sleep. Stop crying, please.
He was asleep on the much smaller cot that rested alongside Curufinwë's and Tyelkormo's. Curufinwë knelt beside Telperinquar, rubbing his back wearily, eyes drooping. A lot had happened recently, and normally he was the last to crumble under pressure—Maitimo had once observed, and quite accurately, that Curufinwë thrived under pressure—but he spent every moment feeling as though fall into a dreamless sleep and never wake again.
So much had happened.
The smell of smoke clung to everything they had, still.
This would be over soon, Curufinwë hoped. No, he was sure it would be over soon. One looked into Fëanáro's eyes and saw a person who could move mountains. That much, Curufinwë could easily believe of his father, and Moringotto could not hide forever. They would have vengeance, and the return of what had been stolen from them. And after that?
After that, Curufinwë had a few ideas. He would move somewhere further south, away from Moringotto's stronghold—even with its master gone, he could not perceive of it being anything but a place of evil. Perhaps one day there would come an end to darkness, but until that day came, Curufinwë would learn to read the map of the stars, keep time in darkness, would learn to see what shadow usually obscured. There was no obstacle that could not be surmounted with the appropriate level of dedication and conviction.
Moving away from Moringotto's place of strength would likely be better for Telperinquar as well. Curufinwë did not want him growing to adulthood in the shadow of the Enemy's old haunts. He'd heard tales of how Orcs first came about, and though he did not seriously believe that mere proximity to evil could turn a Quendë into an Orc, he believed, no, he feared, that Telperinquar could still be affected by it.
With or without the rest of their family, they would move away, somewhere further south. They would carve out a niche for themselves in Endóre, and live comfortably. It was Curufinwë's hope that Telperinquar would never know war again.
He hoped—
Outside, in the dark, someone shouted an alarm.
The silence was abruptly punctuated with sharp screams, the blowing of horns, calls to arms.
Telperinquar awoke once more, tossing fretfully on his cot. His eyes were wide, alarmed. Curufinwë buckled his sword and pulled his son into his arms, stepping outside, pushing his hopes away in the face of the present danger.
Maitimo—Maedhros
Tyelkormo—Celegorm
Curufinwë—Curufin
Telperinquar—Celebrimbor
Makalaurë—Maglor
Carnistir—Caranthir
Fëanáro—Fëanor
Moringotto—Morgoth
Quendë—Elf (plural: Quendi) (Quenya)
Endóre—Middle-Earth (Quenya)
