Tyelko knew that despite the delay with the messenger, he was gaining on his targets. They were slowing now, perhaps arguing over their route. Tyelko wondered distantly if Beren would truly dare to go north to Angband to steal a Silmaril from the Enemy. He would die, of course, but that held no satisfaction for him. It had to be at his hands, and no one else's. Any other way would not suffice.
The man would probably keep his word and go, but he would not want to take his lady with him, not into so grave a danger. And besides, she would not want to be left behind while he risked his life. Once, he might have understood the emotions behind these things. They had died out now, and all he could think, coolly, was of the advantage it gave him that they were quarreling, no matter how mildly, over their next course. They were still far north of Doriath and far south of the mountains, riding east.
It was still a surprise to crest one of the small ridges and see them both below, his brother's horse ground-tied, Huan lying by the small fire. The lovers themselves sat with their arms around each other. He searched himself for jealousy and found none – there was no room for it, perhaps – but there was rage aplenty.
Tyelko felt a smile curve his lips nonetheless.
Huan scented him, of course, and was on his feet in a moment, hackles high. Tyelko ignored the pang that caused him, ignored the words that did not carry, ignored the shouts as the pair leapt to their feet and turned. He was far enough away to be able to make out what Beren was saying without hearing the words.
No closer – Luthien, stay back-
Foolishness. He smiled more widely and knew when he was looking at those ice blue eyes, even from a distance. He held them long enough to feel the tension vibrate along that link.
He was the one to break it, nudging his horse back down the hill. A warning. They could have a warning, no more.
He retreated a little ways away and waited, but there was no challenge and no movement of horse. So they argued, and perhaps understood that where they went, he would follow, thorough as a winter tempest. They were waiting. They were all waiting.
Celegorm paced. Never one to stay still for long, he stalked back and forth in the circle of light cast by his fire, again considering Beren's death. It would have to be fair, of course. Otherwise there would be too much change to claim injustice. He would not have it said that he needed to cheat to defeat a mere Edain warrior.
The wind changed, and tilting his head, he could hear them arguing. He knew both the voices well – Beren's from his impassioned plea to Finrod so much time ago, Lúthien's from their conversations in her locked room in Nargothrond. He closed his eyes to hear better.
"…would be to give in. No – no, I will not-"
"If you insist on throwing yourself into danger then you cannot ask me to let you go alone!"
"Can I not? Why? I live to protect you-"
"And so you would send me away. Would you rather I had stayed back all along, then, wringing my hands and weeping, waiting placidly for any news?"
"I'm only asking you to go back-"
"You are asking me too much." She sounded anguished. "I can help you. Let me stay here."
"Let you stay here and take your chances with – that? You saw, surely you must know that even in the short term this can only end in blood-"
"I would that you held back." That surprised him, a little. How much had she said of her captivity, he thought to wonder, what details had she given? Not enough. Beren likely thought the worst, most sordid details a mind like his could dream up. Tyelko wished him joy of them. They would have to be remembered, would serve as a weapon and a distraction when he needed them.
"I would that you held back," Lúthien said again, "It is ill enough that the other died already. To finish in more bloodshed will only bring more vengeance upon you and while perhaps you and I together can withstand one or a pair of the Sons of Fëanor, I would fain meet even a small army of theirs on any battlefield."
Beren's anger thickened his voice audibly. "I am not afraid of that spawn. And I do not regret that death any more than I would that of a biting fly." Celegorm felt his blood turn to ice and let his fingernails bite into his palm. Hold fast, hold back. It was easier to wait now, though, and it was satisfying to think of the Edain's blood spilling on the ground after being forced to rescind that statement.
"For what he and his accursed brother did to Felagund, it was less than deserved. For what they did to you." His voice softened, and Tyelko closing his eyes could imagine the hand touching his beloved's face, tenderly. Murder pulsed in his veins again and he smothered it ruthlessly.
"Have compassion," she murmured, so very quietly. "I understand you are angry, but nonetheless…and I still must come with you. Do not ask me anything else."
"Beloved, if you would only listen to me-"
"I would bleed and die for you as much as you would for me."
Celegorm took a breath through his nose, not quite sharply, and tried not to think. It wasn't so difficult – his head was still strangely clear, though it felt as though that phrase ought to stir or prod some open wound in him. Now leaning back against the roll of his bedding, he rested his head on the grass, keeping one ear open to listen as there was a pause. Perhaps a sigh, perhaps not. He heard nothing more, but could imagine the rest easily enough.
"And that is what I cannot allow you to do," he would say, and then she would look away and ask, "Why are we arguing? You are not my enemy and I am not yours. He is here. Behind us."
That was all he needed to hear, as far as he needed to think. He let a smile curl his lips and half closed his eyes again. It should have touched him, her love, their loyalty to each other, but he could not let it. He himself had been loyal to his brothers – unto death, how often had he thought or said that very phrase? – and now his brother was dead and not he. She would try to protect him just as he tried to protect Kurvo. It would be useless, of course. He didn't want her and didn't want her dead.
Yes, I am your enemy. Know I am here. Be afraid.
He closed his eyes the rest of the way and imagined going over the hill now. Perhaps they were making love, crying out in soft ways, bodies twined together. It would be easy to creep behind them with a long knife and finish it here. Stab the knife in at the base of his enemy's back and open him from there to the neck. But no – no. Too quick.
It needed to be long, not just the killing but all of it. He needed time to savor it. Time to extract the full payment and plan how he would take it. But now it had begun, now that they both knew they were not alone.
Now he could truly hunt them. End him. End this. But not too quickly. Never too quickly. That, he knew, would be too much like mercy.
And that luxury he would never allow himself.
