"In that time Celebrimbor son of Curufin repudiated the deeds of his
father, and remained in Nargothrond."
-The Silmarillion, Of Beren and Lúthien
"No." Celebrimbor was looking his father right in the eyes, his back straight and his feet planted. When Curufin still did not respond, he repeated himself. "No, lord, I am remaining here."
The address of Lord from his own son bothered Curufin. He would have forced anyone else to give him that title, but coming from his own son, it was a blow to the heart. He was not sure whether he wanted to strike his son or embrace him, so he continued to keep his firm gaze upon him, attempting to intimidate him in his desperate search for words. But Celebrimbor would not be intimidated. He just returned his father's glare and would not give in. For once, Curufin regretted that his son had inherited his stubbornness. They might have stood thus for hours, both wills striving against the other, had not Celegorm come down the hall at that moment.
"Are you not coming?" he said to his brother. Realization obviously hadn't hit him yet. Curufin reluctantly tore away his gaze from his son and turned to Celegorm. "Brother, I will be out when it seems good to me. If you will just leave me a moment, I would like to say something to my son, before he sets out with us." He shot Celebrimbor a warning glance and turned back to his brother, who still had not left. "I will be out shortly," he said, eyebrows raised in impatience. Celegorm took the cue, and departed.
Curufin turned back to his son. He spoke slowly, trying not to lose patience, although it threatened to leave him at any moment. "Listen to me, onya." he said. "The decision is not yours to make as to whether or not you follow me into exile. You are my son, Tyelperinquar, and the son belongs with his father." Celebrimbor flinched at the sudden use of his old name, but he did not give in yet to his father's over-powering nature.
"It may be that the son belongs with the father, but there is no law that says he must." Celebrimbor said. "And can the son not refuse to follow his father, if his father has become as distant to him and a king is to his lowest subject?" He raised his voice slightly. "And can the son not go on his own path if his father has done things in his life that have hurt his powerless son to watch? I will not make the same mistake you did, atar. I will not follow my father."
Curufin's patience was completely lost now. There was only so much a son could say, and this, by far, was beyond what was acceptable. He wanted again to strike him, but that fatherly instinct that remained somewhere inside him prevented him from doing so. Instead he just gave him a cold stare that seemed to say without words that any love or even respect that had been between them was lost. Curufin knew that it was Celebrimbor himself who had made this decision. He would never forgive his son. As he left the room, he said to the wall "So be it. Now the son shall truly be as distant as the lowest subject." With that he left, and did not turn back even once.
Though Celebrimbor felt indeed that he had accomplished what he had hoped to do, he was disappointed nonetheless. Curufin always had a way of making insults seem less potent, by re-directing them toward the speaker. But it was no matter. Celebrimbor was finally rid of him, that ruined elf he had so foolishly followed for so many years and called father.
This unknown feeling of freedom and independence began to hit Celebrimbor finally. But it was not a pleasant feeling, as he had always imagined it would be. It was the feeling of being lost. He had grown so used to being told what to do, and to having people to follow, that now that he was finally rid of that he was even more caged. Only now he was caged within an open place, with so many places to run but no legs to carry him. Tears began to form in his eyes, but he hurriedly brushed them away. He could not let Curufin hurt him. He thought then the very same thoughts that had once passed Curufin's mind when he doubted for a brief moment his own actions: he would not turn back on a trail he had already taken. He would not take back his actions.
Translations:
onya = son atar = father Tyelperinquar = Silver Fist, Celebrimbor's name in Quenya
-The Silmarillion, Of Beren and Lúthien
"No." Celebrimbor was looking his father right in the eyes, his back straight and his feet planted. When Curufin still did not respond, he repeated himself. "No, lord, I am remaining here."
The address of Lord from his own son bothered Curufin. He would have forced anyone else to give him that title, but coming from his own son, it was a blow to the heart. He was not sure whether he wanted to strike his son or embrace him, so he continued to keep his firm gaze upon him, attempting to intimidate him in his desperate search for words. But Celebrimbor would not be intimidated. He just returned his father's glare and would not give in. For once, Curufin regretted that his son had inherited his stubbornness. They might have stood thus for hours, both wills striving against the other, had not Celegorm come down the hall at that moment.
"Are you not coming?" he said to his brother. Realization obviously hadn't hit him yet. Curufin reluctantly tore away his gaze from his son and turned to Celegorm. "Brother, I will be out when it seems good to me. If you will just leave me a moment, I would like to say something to my son, before he sets out with us." He shot Celebrimbor a warning glance and turned back to his brother, who still had not left. "I will be out shortly," he said, eyebrows raised in impatience. Celegorm took the cue, and departed.
Curufin turned back to his son. He spoke slowly, trying not to lose patience, although it threatened to leave him at any moment. "Listen to me, onya." he said. "The decision is not yours to make as to whether or not you follow me into exile. You are my son, Tyelperinquar, and the son belongs with his father." Celebrimbor flinched at the sudden use of his old name, but he did not give in yet to his father's over-powering nature.
"It may be that the son belongs with the father, but there is no law that says he must." Celebrimbor said. "And can the son not refuse to follow his father, if his father has become as distant to him and a king is to his lowest subject?" He raised his voice slightly. "And can the son not go on his own path if his father has done things in his life that have hurt his powerless son to watch? I will not make the same mistake you did, atar. I will not follow my father."
Curufin's patience was completely lost now. There was only so much a son could say, and this, by far, was beyond what was acceptable. He wanted again to strike him, but that fatherly instinct that remained somewhere inside him prevented him from doing so. Instead he just gave him a cold stare that seemed to say without words that any love or even respect that had been between them was lost. Curufin knew that it was Celebrimbor himself who had made this decision. He would never forgive his son. As he left the room, he said to the wall "So be it. Now the son shall truly be as distant as the lowest subject." With that he left, and did not turn back even once.
Though Celebrimbor felt indeed that he had accomplished what he had hoped to do, he was disappointed nonetheless. Curufin always had a way of making insults seem less potent, by re-directing them toward the speaker. But it was no matter. Celebrimbor was finally rid of him, that ruined elf he had so foolishly followed for so many years and called father.
This unknown feeling of freedom and independence began to hit Celebrimbor finally. But it was not a pleasant feeling, as he had always imagined it would be. It was the feeling of being lost. He had grown so used to being told what to do, and to having people to follow, that now that he was finally rid of that he was even more caged. Only now he was caged within an open place, with so many places to run but no legs to carry him. Tears began to form in his eyes, but he hurriedly brushed them away. He could not let Curufin hurt him. He thought then the very same thoughts that had once passed Curufin's mind when he doubted for a brief moment his own actions: he would not turn back on a trail he had already taken. He would not take back his actions.
Translations:
onya = son atar = father Tyelperinquar = Silver Fist, Celebrimbor's name in Quenya