It was well known, even in the family itself, that Curufin did not always have advantages in being known as the favorite son of their father, or even sharing the same name.
While some blame could be laid on the Oath and all the tragedy that had happened in the First Age, the plain truth was that Curufin suffered from a fatal habit of being addicted to coming up with complex schemes that held a high risk of failing because of a missed detail somewhere, and wanted to do it in such a way that his enemies was made to look like utter idiots compared to him, in order to justify his opinion of them.
"All I wanted was to gain some power back to our House!" Curufin complained while his wife was tendering to his face, placing a wet cloth to his swollen lips before she tried to have a better look on the black eye he had gotten. By pure coincidence, they had run into Orodreth on the streets of Tirion only moments earlier, and the second son of Finarfin had not wasted time in showing his Fëanorian cousin exactly how he still felt about how Curufin and Celegorm had been involved in Finrod's death.
"Being a power-hungry guest at the hospitality of your cousins where you lived under their roof and eating their food, was not a good way of thanking them for their kindness," Astarë reminded him in a stern voice, warning him from drawing too much attention because she was in no mood to deal with more injures on him for now. A black eye and a sore mouth was only a little part of what Curufin could face from he once had wronged in some manner if he was not careful. Nowadays he was more known for not being trustworthy, and that made their search for their son more difficult.
"Why are our son at the Mansions of Aulë?! The Valar are not to be trust…!"
Curufin was cut off by the wet cloth being stuck inside his mouth, his wife glaring at him dangerously.
"Quit your rant or I will sew your lips shut without a painkiller. We know where our son is, and that he is reborn. Would you rather prefer that he still was in the Halls of Mandos?" Astarë asked, packing her first aid kit together. Most likely, it was for the best that Curufin stayed in their room here at the inn for the whole evening before he was attacked twice in the same day and she brought up food for him to eat, some soup because swollen lips was hard to chew with.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Just the mere sight of the Mansions of Aulë brought up old childhood memories for Curufin, bittersweet ones because of how he felt about the Valar nowadays. It had not helped to learn that it was Sauron who had killed his son, a act which had made it extra hard for the House of Fëanor to open up and slowly start trusting Maiar again. Ignoring the dark look on her husband, Astarë rode up to greet a Elven smith just outside the doors to one of the Mansions. It did not take long time, before she had gotten information of where exactly Celebrimbor was living there.
It turned out that Celebrimbor lived not exactly at the Mansions, but in a small cottage on a walking distance. It pleased Astarë to see a well-cared-for vegetable garden, several apple and pear trees, and even a hen house where a small chicken flock was seen. At least that meant that her son was not starving, which was important for her maternal instinct. Curufin smiled just barely at the sight of a forge, and the sounds inside told of that someone was using it.
"Tyelpë? Tyelpë, are you here?"
The sounds inside the forge stopped at the sound of Astarë calling for her son. And the Elf who came out in the sunlight, was indeed their only child, but he looked very different from the last time either one of his parents had seen him:
Celebrimbor still looked enough like Curufin to be identified as someone of Fëanor's blood, but there was still the blue eyes and softer jaw he had inherited from his maternal family too. His black hair, another thing shared with his father and grandfather, was set up in two set of smaller braids on his head which formed one single large braid along his back, decorated with simple bone pearls, a style which Curufin could identify as a Dwarven style which was a timeless style for the Dwarves over the Ages although Maedhros and Caranthir was the family experts on their Dwarven allies back in the First Age and their almost unknown lifestyle. His pants and leather boots were in Elven style, but something had changed about him. Not just the trauma of being tortured and killed, but something else, which must have happened between him disowning his father in Nargothrond and his own death.
"Ammë? Atar?" he asked in surprise when he saw who the visitors was.
"Oh, my sweet silver prince!"
Astarë was pretty strong for a healer that was small in stature beside her husband, and Celebrimbor allowed her to hug him. It had been so long since the last time, when he has struggled to explain for his mother why he wanted to follow his family to Middle-Earth, that he had felt a strange feeling of that he needed to go there, or almost a calling of the distant lands.
"I am sorry for not returning with the Host of the Valar, ammë, but I still felt that inner call I told you about, that I would regret it if I returned without finding out what exactly it was."
Neither father or son greeted each other, really, both still remembered that heated argument between them at their last meeting and Celebrimbor had not really wanted to see his father in the Halls.
"Curufinwë."
"Telperinquar."
Looking over the head of his smaller mother, Celebrimbor addressed his father with the same name which he shared with Fëanor on purpose, to show that he still had not really forgiven him. Even without openly saying it, Curufin felt hurt by it because it showed the difference between himself and his son; that Celebrimbor had been brave enough to stay away from the Oath, thanks to never swearing it in the first place, and able to becoming his own person over time.
"Honey, are we having unplanned quests?" a new voice suddenly called from inside the cottage, a female one but surprisingly deep. For some reason, Curufin got a bad feeling at hearing that the footsteps seemed very heavy.
But the biggest surprise was the person who came out: Tall for her race, a skin tone darker than even the Easterling allies the House of Fëanor once had, which seemed even darker against the white blonde hair and beard which was carefully braided, and the green eyes which watched them all.
Before Curufin fainted from the shock, it slowly dawned on him that yes, there was a Dwarf here in Valinor and based on the similar braids in both their hairs, Celebrimbor had married outside his own race.
"Atarinkë! Can you not stop avoiding to risk harming yourself least one single day during this journey?!"
~X~X~X~X~X~X
While they left Curufin to recover in one of the guest rooms, after that Astarë had checked so he had not hit his head against the ground when fainting, it gladdened Celebrimbor to see just how fast his mother and Narvi seemed to bond, despite that Astarë knew next to no Sindarin and Narvi having a very thick accent when speaking what she knew of the Quenya she had learnt from him back in the First Age.
"...you are from the East of Middle-Earth? Oh, does that mean you could have been somewhere close to Cuiviénen!?"
It clearly helped that Narvi was a stonemason, just like Nerdanel, and her mother-in-law was another woman Astarë had liked from the start, bonding thanks to both being commoners who found themselves courted by s royal prince and not being ladies from the higher classes.
"Despite the surprise of your choice, I am happy over that you finally found someone to marry, dear son…"
Naturally, that had to be the moment Curufin revealed himself to have woken up again, with a loud yell:
"TELPERINQUAR ORONDER!"
Celebrimbor signed. It had always been a warning of Curufin's anger when using both his Quenya names in the past and he knew that this was going to get ugly.
"I will try and not get into a actual fist fight with Atar, but I can not promise anything," he told the ladies who had been seated at the dinner table. But Narvi rose from her chair as soon as her Elven husband was gone, following after him just in case it became ugly, Astarë coming along.
"I think, that my father-in-law is needing a little remind of what drove father and son apart from the start."
Indeed, Curufin had almost attacked his son with accusations about he made a fool out of himself by fancing himself in love with a Dwarf the moment Celebrimbor entered the guest room. It was not just for their similar appearances that he had been named after his father, but right now he was just acting unreasonable to the point of that Celebrimbor was reminded of why he had lost his long-suffering patience with his father.
"And what was your excuse for trying to set up uncle Celegorm in a forced marriage to Luthien, father? Gaining power in Doriath, no doubt, but also trying to show Beren that she was out of his reach, if he survived?" he asked in a calm but ice cold manner. Judging from how Curufin tensed up, that couple was still a sore point.
"Do not mention those names to my face, son! I wanted Thingol to give us support in the war against Morgoth!"
"Oh yes, and that was best given by killing her mortal lover and set her up with my uncle, huh? Extra bonus if Finrod died as well, as thanks for giving you food and shelter under his roof? That, Atar, was one of your most idiotic ideas ever, even if I fail to see exactly what Luthien and Beren actually intended to do once they had the Silmaril to bring back to Thingol. Everything had to happen in a manner which proved our House to be superior to all others, right? Because that is going back all the fucking way to grandfather trying to prove himself as the firstborn and the prince with the most legal claim to the Noldorin Kingship!"
"Grandfather Finwë married that Vanyarin woman only because he could not be satisfied with one child!"
Now they were both shouting, old anger coming up to the surface.
"And what about one of your unused ideas to try and set up a match between me and Finduilas to gain power to the throne of Nargothrond since Finrod had no children and two of his brothers had died without heirs, because Gil-galad was a male and Idril hidden away in Gondolin? Or do you just view me as a pawn to gain power though because I have no brothers or sisters to be used in marriage alliances!?"
"You are my son and will do as I tell you!"
"SHUT THE HELL UP AND QUIT ACTING LIKE UNDERAGE BRATS, BOTH OF YOU!"
Celebrimbor felt himself get hit with a slipper Narvi had tossed at the back of his head, while Curufin suffered a minor indignity of getting a tossed small rock straight in his stomach, which made him bend forwards from both the pain and the sudden lack of air. As Astarë gave Curufin the cold glare which was hint to her anger, Narvi spoke up, her arms crossed:
"You are hardly the first to question how your son ended up married to me, but I see that you are that kind of person who can not stand being powerless with the people around you. You want to be in control, yet you are blind to see how a plan can easy fall apart because it holds too many steps or can not be changed easy. Who are you really trying to please, by being in control? Yourself? Your famed father as his favorite son? Or did you intend Celebrimbor to be just as faithfully loyal to yourself as you are to his grandfather, with no chance of being his own person? Loyal to the point of losing his life? It was your blood in his veins, the skills inherited from one generation to the next, that got him killed in the long run, have you not realized that?"
Curufin was stuck speechless, unable to find anything to say in order to defend his own actions. He had not really wanted to see that side of their relationship, of how he always had made Celebrimbor unhappy by pretending to not see how different they were in personality. He had just wanted a loyal son, just as loyal he was to his own father. Yet now, it was far too late for that. Celebrimbor was a adult, able of doing things as he wanted and used to independence where he once had ruled a city of his own. His son would never be content with 'just' being a royal prince again, once again being the youngest member of his family until the day he either had children of his own, got joined by a younger sibling or getting a cousin.
"I think it will be calmer for everyone if Atarinkë and I spends the night as guests in the Mansions. It is easier to speak when neither one is shouting in anger and both can think in peace over what to say."
Grabbing hold of her husband's arm, Astarë did not allow Curufin to protest as she dragged him out of the room. But a look over her shoulder promised that her husband would get a scolding for this once they were out of hearing from the cottage.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Narvi was not surprised to find Celebrimbor in his forge later that evening after brooding though the dinner, taking out his anger on a piece of metal that most likely was going to end up into the rubbish heap.
"You are upset over that he seemed shocked over that you would not follow his orders as in the past, that you now were firmly standing up against him," Narvi said as a matter of fact while she leaned against the door.
"My father was proud of being Curufinwë the Younger, and I really have no memories of him ever being his own person. Instead, he remained in the shadow of my grandfather, refusing to leave. I am not even sure that he ever saw that I had a limit of what I was willing to accept him doing," Celebrimbor responded in a thick voice, not crying but still showing Narvi the inner conflicts in his mind and heart.
People did not know it, but Narvi was perhaps one of the few persons to actually know how it was to watch family members be caught up in a net of self-made traps and see them slowly ruin themselves. Most of her family was fine, but her sole brother had suffered from a similar ambition as Curufin, wanting to gain power and a higher social status, which Narvi had hated because she refused to be a pawn for that kind of games. Like Celebrimbor, she had found out at least one questionable plot involving marriage with her as one of the persons to say the wedding vows. And her brother had died only a few years after passing his first century of life, not thanks to his plans, but because he never had learned to keep quiet about things that could offend others.
"Still, it would be easier for all of us if you and Curufin could mend some of the pain between you both. I am not asking you to forgive him fully, but no one should have to miss one set of grandparents, don't you agree?"
She had placed her hand on her belly while speaking, reminding Celebrimbor of the main reason they had chosen to allow his parents to know that he was reborn. Against the low birth rate of the Dwarves, it seemed like the legendary fertility of Fëanor and Nerdanel had skipped the generation of their sons because Celebrimbor was the only child born to one of the seven sons, or maybe it simply was the result of Narvi not aging anymore as in the past when she had lived the natural lifespan of her race. If anyone looked at her in this moment, she would be a Dwarrowdam in her prime, anywhere between the ages of seventy and one hundred-fifty years.
"Forgiveness are not as easy as people make it seem when speaking of giving it," Celebrimbor confessed with a tired sigh. In return, Narvi hugged him, and he could have sworn that he felt a tiny little foot between them. It was only a few weeks ago since Narvi had felt the first movements in her womb as a sign of that her pregnancy was real.
"Oi, it is rude to kick your father like that, Frëja. Or are you trying to tell him that his own father is less of a danger than what he faced in the past?"
For whatever reason, Narvi were convinced of that she carried a daughter under her heart. According to what she knew, Dwarrowdams felt a hard-to-explain instinct whatever it was one of their rare daughters who had been conceived in the love-making. Celebrimbor had not done any guess about the gender, he knew that there had been no daughters born in the House of Fëanor, but some time had to be the first, right?
"Or perhaps she is telling me to not give up after this first attempt, in the only manner she can communicate with us at the moment?" Celebrimbor smiled, feeling a little better now when they had talked.
Back at the Mansions, Curufin sneaked out into the night air to gather his thoughts together.
"Nothing seem to go as I had hoped for…"
While she had not really harmed him after leaving the cottage, Curufin had gotten a unpleasant reminder of the more dangerous side of being married to a healer, especially a wife who had never been submissive to him simply because he was a son of Fëanor. If he wanted a wife that would never question his decisions or orders, well, he could have married one of those sheltered noble daughters none of the men in his family liked, as she kindly had reminded him. Right now he was still sore in the skin on his hands from getting stabbed with the needles she used to sew up wounds, and he had needed to bandage them by himself since Astarë had closed the door to their rented room before he could request some help.
"Who are you really trying to please, by being in control? Yourself? Your famed father as his favorite son? Or did you intend Celebrimbor to be just as faithfully loyal to yourself as you are to his grandfather, with no chance of being his own person?"
The words of his unexpected daughter-in-law had struck a nerve, in a manner very few had managed to do since his rebirth. It reminded him of how unpleasant it once had felt to share the name of his father, how everyone had expected him to mirror his father. And he had...until that his own plans and actions started to be thrown back into his face. The dream of a loyal son had broken apart when Celebrimbor refused to follow them after that Curufin and Celegorm had been expelled from Nargothrond.
In a strange way of fate, that very open act of disowning Celebrimbor had done to his father and paternal family, had actually saved him from dying in the Second and Third Kinslaying, even if he was haunted by them later afterwards due to being a descendant of those who had commited that sin.
"Atar," a voice spoke behind him, making Curufin turn around to face the person. It was Celebrimbor, who seemed less angry now but a lot more uncertain, based from the look on his face. It reminded him of all the little signs he once had tried to ignore, that his son was not like himself in character.
"...why her of all people?" Curufin managed to ask, in a mostly neutral voice. It was still too raw, the shock over that his son had turned out to be one of those Elves to fall in love with someone outside his own race.
"Because Narvi knows how it is to have family involved into a questionable quest of revenge which could cost the lives of the whole family. A tale for a later time, but the Dwarves are well familiar with blood feuds, which they view the Thief of the Silmaril and the death of my great-grandfather as, making our family justified for wanting revenge though the Oath is seen as a dark omen of your own deaths. And yet, she offered me friendship and later love as well, while knowing that I did not belong to the most innocent of families. She is a light in the darkness that I never saw in anyone else, something which helped me survive despite that Sauron tried to break me in both body and spirit. She was dead since almost seven centuries back then, but the memory of her did not fade. As far as I know, we are the first Elf and Dwarf to fall in love and marry as a sign of that we belongs together, forever until the very end of time. When I was reborn, I came to Aulë with one single request; that Narvi was to be here as well, or I would try to find the Halls of the Forefathers, where the Dwarven afterlife is, and enter there to never came out again."
Curufin was not blind to the unspoken meaning of what would have happened to Celebrimbor, had Aulë refused. The grandson of Fëanor would be lost forever, never seen among his kin again and only known as person from history over time.
"...damn, just how bloody brave can you be, when I was a such mess of a parent to you basically from birth…?"
He was not crying. It was raining outside, even with no clouds to darkening the starry sky above father and son. Celebrimbor made a faint smile.
"It is calling "growing up", Atar. I saw what you did, and swore to learn of what went wrong in your plans. I had a bad feeling about the Oath from the very beginning, and that instinct made me refuse you there in Nargothrond when you slowly was becoming a mad shadow of yourself. That was a version of my father I could not accept, or of the six uncles I had known before the Darkening. My life with Narvi proved that decision to be right, for had I returned to Valinor after the War of Wrath, I would never have met her in Middle-Earth. She would not be born until that the first seven centuries of the Second Age were halfway to the eighth, and would have faced a much lonely life without me at her side. And I would forever feel regret over leaving without even knowing why, for I doubt that I would be allowed to step on the soil of Middle-Earth again."
Celebrimbor embraced his father while he was talking, feeling how Curufin was crying so hard that the shoulders was shaking, unable to say anything because of the emotions inside his chest.
Back up in the room, Astarë watched her husband and son from the window, Narvi standing beside her. Neither female said anything, but there was a understanding silence between them. Their husbands needed that time alone, to forgive and start healing together as father and son again.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author note: 1, Celebrimbor's mother-name in Quenya is sadly unknown in canon, but in my own stories I have chosen to use Oronder, which means "Mountain man" in Quenya, to foreshadow his friends with the Dwarves and Narvi in the Second Age
2, Curufin's wife are not named in canon either, but for my stories I have given her the name Astarë and she is working as a healer, though she never followed her husband and son into Exile because she and Curufin had a bitter argument about the Oath and whatever Celebrimbor should stay with her or follow with Curufin. She have still not really forgiven Curufin for that yet
3; Yes, I know that Curufin comes off as a serious jerk here, and something of a hypocrite about his son marrying Narvi when he tried to keep Luthien and Beren apart for his own plots because Luthien was a princess of Doriath, but Celebrimbor really have no good memories of his father from the last months in Nargothrond. First he saw his father and uncle turn people against Finrod, the whole "business" with attempting to marry off Luthien to Celegorm while they tried to make Orodreth into a puppet king as they held the real power, and then the news of Finrod dying came. Basically he saw Curufin become more manipulative and wanting power for their House, no matter what it would cost. So for Celebrimbor, the events in Nargothrond was the final crossing of a thin line about what he was willing to accept about his father and had enough of watching him slowly ruining his life thanks to the Oath.
4, To be somewhat fair to Curufin, he also saw Celegorm be killed by Dior, the half-elven son of Luthien and Beren when the young King of Doriath was only 36 years and yet also a fully grown adult with children of his own already, so for Curufin interracial love relationships could possibly mean that their possible offspring are abnormal and dangerous