Trade
What would Celegorm gain from this speculative venture, as Finrod so economically put it to him, was sole satisfaction. Another one, Finrod had said, one that would dull as time passed. Yet there was something in Finrod's eyes those days, something a little like the discrete mingling of love and madness he remembered from a childhood with wise Nerdanel and great Feanor. Something that Celegorm knew to mean that whatever "it" would be, it would be enough for me and mine. He thought of nothing of it then. Finrod was a very different creature from his family.
Barely half a dozen years later Celegorm suddenly wondered if the madness had been true for him as well. The moment he stepped onto the pearl laden beach, he did feel it, the pride of being among the rank of his father and brothers and the intoxication of knowing that they were going to leave, finally, as he had wanted. The pleasure, though transitory, brought up a bouquet of remembered scents and sensations for the years afterwards. Celegorm was a hunter, his memories were sensual, but controlled. He had hunted in Valinor for most of his youth and all of his adultlife with our without companions. Maglor had remarked that he thought him oddly cold -- "You don't appreciate enough" -- as if the person in question didn't know. So he could conjured up all the images, sound and scent that led up to the pride and pleasure without feeling either again. Maglor could, too, Celegorm knew, that was why he never composed a song for that moment. He was ashamed of the Feanorian March from Formenos to Aqualonde. It ended badly and Maglor's ever truthful, so he was ashamed of even a little moment of triumph. Celegorm had dreadfully little triumphs since the debacle of swords and armory started. He had his knives and bow and arrows and an armory before he could ride. Swords, he supposed, made all the difference. You're expecting a close attack, wanted even.
However, the consequent mistake, as enthralling as it was, was still a mistake. Celegorm told Caranthir, feeding words to fuel another rage and not caring: I don't believe anyone knew what they were doing days prior to the fault. We were just trying to hide that we are trying to understand what we are doing. He doesn't say "our fault" because he doesn't believe it was. Caranthir nodded, something else clearly in his mind.
It was a trick. Of Feanor's seven sons, three would be hunters, two would wield weapon with ease while the last had six others and a voice and mind for epic ballads. Maglor's words, again, laughingly: "we were destined"- the occasion was something about Curufin's son showing signs of a prodigy, but afterthoughts weighed every memory down until Celegorm began to suspect in the more quiet nights that the way the briars patterned in Huan's hair tangled when he was six had foretold something except no one was there to read it. And, that of course, was the problem. But, surely, they were a violent family, not one among them a healer or a true scholar and destined was as good a word as cursed. No escape either way.
He knew of healing the best. He, the cold, unfeeling hunter bandaged hurts in Middle-earth and tended to the wounded while Maglor tried not to look uncomfortable. Perhaps, it was all for the best. Steady hands were important even if the black feathered arrow was portruding from your own father's quickly purpling shoulder.
All that, however, did not explain why he was seeing Finrod in front of his eyes, very beautiful as usual, a Finrod with red hair, or maybe it's blood. He groaned and tried to turn away. But it was Maedhros and his voice demanded recognition.
"What will you have now?"
He hesitated, then endeavored to sit up and succeeded half-way, slouching against the pillows.
"Dinner, if you have any for me." Maedhros looked at him curiously. Celegorm knew himself to be a sight and hoped that Maedhros kept none of their mother's grooming rules in the house. Himring's dinning hall was very crowded. The meal was brought to his room. He was fingering an empty cup when Maedhros asked the next question, a decanter in his hand. Maedhros was withholding it in typical style. Celegorm had no energy to argue. He merely extended his hand, too tired to feel childish.
"Ambarussa asked after you. What did Curufin do?"
Celegorm shrugged. He really didn't want to think about it, nor any of the last five hundred years.
"Why? Is Caranthir mad at him for dirtying his tack?" Then, suddenly, he was struck by something. It hurt. Veracity, Maglor's voice again, it had a wheedling way, truth hurts. Celegorm felt dazed, he put down his hand and could still the effect of that palpable truth smarting his face. "I'm very tired of thinking. I've been very tired a long time." Something dawned on Maedhros with those words. Celegorm could see the concerned shadow passing and another gathering then. Maedhros's face is the sky, he thought, and snickered at the imagery. Only Fingon could compose verses like that.
"So you let Curufin think for you?" Maedhros stood, eyes wide and angry.
"Atarinke and all that you know, and he is capable of many things," Celegorm replied, "Which you and Maglor should be well aware."
"We are very aware, but he wouldn't stand for our awareness would he? When fa--" Maedhros stopped abruptly. A pained expression came to his face: "We thought you two would keep an eye on him." Celegorm did not answer.
"Is this why Huan left you?" Of all the days, Maedhros would remember Huan who he never cared for.
Celegorm shrugged, the pain dulled by fatigue.
"I probably hinted for him to leave. I'm no longer myself, I told him."
Carefully, Maedhros laid the decanter on the windowsill, still out of reach.
"When did this happen?"
"When I betrayed Finrod."
Maedhros voice was cold and curious. Feanorian cruelty. "Why?"
"He had Nargrothrond."
"A petty quarrel! And he won it squarely, too!
"It's not a prize, but he gave it to Orodreth.
Maedhros fell silent. Orodreth was another matter altogether and Celegorm knew he just won a respite. He sighed, and hoped that Maedhros would just leave. Why am I even here? Then he looked down, and sighed. He'll bloody the beddings soon if the bandages are not changed.
That hefty gaze was still on him. Mother's eyes: you don't look up while they're looking down. Celegorm felt a hole burning into his skull.
"You're obviously desperate to say something, just say it." He muttered. There was a lengthy silence before Maedhros spoke.
"What happened with Finrod? The part that was not reported to me.
"Oh, I'm sure there are a lot of those reports." Celegorm snorted. Maedhros looked away, uncomfortable. Celegorm was still speaking to the bloodying sheets. The bandages had started to itch. He plucked at an edge absently. "Your disreputable brothers scandalizing the inhabitants of the city by their loud and drunken ways, except they were befuddled by oath instead of wine, or perhaps both, depends on whether Pengolodh saw fit to add details he did not witness. And how that dear brave honorable nephew of yours denied his corrupting father in front of the whole court." He stopped, feeling dizzy. Too much blood had gone to his face. "You know the quest. But if it had been you, do you know what would happen if Finrod goes?" He asked, still looking down.
"We did. He'll die, Maedhros. Is that something you want to have on your conscience? He's of Finwe's get and far kenned. Walked into death so willinglyÉ." Celegorm took a deep breath. "He knew he was going to die. He told us. He thought we would understand. We understood all right, but we also understood it's not his place to walk in front of Morgoth and pry a cursed Silmaril and a smug grin off his accursed face. We said that Nargothrond is walking into ruin if her king walks into death. It's our Oath after all. Perhaps our method was amiss, Finrod was troubled and angry at our words. He took time to speak with us. Orodreth was helpful at morale. Very helpful, he entertained half the populace with the idea that their king is conspiring with Feanorions! And Feanorions, we must remember, are just jealous animals who kill their kin and take their kingdoms. And as animals, will sell those unrelated to the highest bidder. In this case, Morgoth. Nevermind that at least a quarter of those in Nargothrond were with us on that day.
"Are the Silmarils just pretty baubles? No. Are they ours? It was our father's. Did Finrod have to pay his dues to a love-sick mortal? Perhaps. Where is Finrod now after being practically exiled from his own city? Curufin and that intense way of his took Celebrimbor's growing wariness of him and his name badly. We went hunting on the western eaves of Doriath, away from Nargothrond. Then he found a girl, Thingol's daughter in fact, almost as pretty as himself and broke off the hunt to show her to Nargrothrond. I agreed, of course. For this slip of a girl their king went to his doom. The least she could do is wait until his return." Celegorm shuddered and closed his eyes as if in pain. Maedhros reached out a hand, but Celegorm opened his eyes again and said: "She's very beautiful and very strange, and reminded me of Aredhel. I was so tired by then."
"There are always factions in court, especially in a city on the defensive, but even the factions in father's day had never fought as much as they did then. Old suspicions rose again. That Orodreth disliked us was no secret, but he feared those who followed us. We were an aid to Finrod, then to him in all matters, but Orodreth felt that our help lessened him. The fool." Celegorm smiled ruefully, "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that to his face, for the next thing Orodreth did was to bar Thingol's daughter from leaving. He thought that showed his decisiveness. Or perhaps, he thought to convince everyone that he did want Finrod back. There were still those who heeded us, and those who took what Curufin said about Orodreth to heart. You know the rant." Maedhros nodded grimly and bade Celegorm to continue.
"Effectively, he took Thingol's daughter, Melian's daughter hostage, the idiot. "True, Curufin wanted me to marry her, as if that would make me happy. He told me I should get a son on her. Thoughts of his son weighed heavily on him then. I confess, I did muse upon it, but the lady took it ill when I told her that I petitioned her father. At least, I thought, she could be free of this place, but she has Aredhel's mood as well, quick to take fancy and offence. And Huan always took things to be face value. He doesn't understand that I can't tell him everything anymore. Why recount it when it's already painful to hear and to bear it the first time? I am tired, Maedhros.
"Would you like to sleep?" Maedhros asked. There was a knock on the door. Someone came in with a basin of hot water, a towel, lint and a jar of salve. He placed it on the small table beside Celegorm's bed and before Maedhros could stand aside Celegorm waved the attendent away.
"Should I
"Leave it, Maedhros. I think the bed's ruined. Sorry." Maedhros looked over and frowned at the mess.
"We'll reserve it for you next time then. But you're bleeding a lot.
"All the more reason to leave it. I think it's mending anyways.
"Very well." Maedhros sat down on the corner of the bed, careful not to move the bed too much. "And so you let Huan leave?
"He leaves and comes of his own free will. I've never had a say in that." Maedhros doubted this. That Huan, whom he must think as more than a hound, forsook his Celegorm who had raised him from a pup for Luthien was a fact. It worried him that his brothers had made an enemy of her, even unwittingly.
Celegorm wetted his lips, glanced at the wine in Maedhros's hand and started speaking again. It distracted him from his wound.
"I didn't tell you, but Luthien had a marvelous cloak. Curufin kept it in his room. He was studying it you see. He didn't know what it was, how it worked. Now that I know, upon reflection, perhaps she didn't give it to him so willingly when he had asked. Then the city was in an uproar. People returned. Where's Finrod I ask you? He's gone. We knew it for certain when the tattered thralls of Sauron's isle came back and told us. You heard about the rest of it. Painful, of course. But we managed. Orodreth enjoyed the tumult. His decisive action this time was to drive us out. Very well then, we thought. The city was against us by that point, calling us cowards and traitors. I would not lie. I wanted Nargothrond, but not in place of Finrod's life, you understand." Celegorm's eyes reddened. Maedhros looked away and tried to ignore his obscuring vision. Finrod had been the fairest of the children of Finwe's get.
"So we left, and on our way here, we saw those cursed lovers. Did Curufin tell you how he lost Angrist?
Maedhros shook his head and forced himself to meet Celegorm's eyes. Celegorm sighed, and started again. "We decided that they must be detained. Curufin lifted Luthien to his saddle." At Maedhros start, "Ask him when he wakes up. I don't know why, perhaps to secure her as a witness against Orodreth. The girl was not without wit, she knew who actually imprisoned her and he begrudged Orodreth's smug face and his hand upon Celebrimbor's shoulder you see." Maedhros flinched at the reminder. "Don't look so shocked, Maedhros. Orodreth had been priming him for command for a long time, we had found out before we left. Feanorian blood, especially without oath, is apparently something Orodreth put a lot of stock into. It certainly explained why some of our people chose to desert us."
"When Beren saw Curufin had taken Luthien, he leapt and tumbled Curufin off his horse onto the ground and throttled him. Huan came at me when I tried to intervene. He was taken with Luthien I suppose, and the mortal was her lover." There was a wistful tone in Celegorm's voice. Maedhros almost pitied him. "The mortal stripped Curufin of his things afterwards. And Curufin, I said, took shock badly. He was shamed and angry. We were walking away when he took my bow and an arrow, and before I could stop him, fired at Luthien. Huan caught the first, but Curufin shot another. The mortal jumped in front of her and took it to the breast. Curufin has a good draw but he was weak by that pointÉ." Celegorm trailed off. "And Huan chased us. And I, who knew him well, knew him not at all then. Though I am glad at the end that he gave us chase. You saw our need for haste.
Maedhros jaw tightened. The mortal's throttling had left Curufin half-dead. Maedhros privately thought that hound of Valinor or not, Celegorm had lost the memory that Huan is a hound, and therefore an animal. It's very unlikely that it gave more thought to the well being of the brothers than he thought of the scent blood in his nose. Maedhros had seen Huan and Celegorm hunt and in tandem, they frightened him. But if it's Celegorm's pleasant memory that Huan wanted to save them, why ruin it. Huan had been Celegorm's friend a long time and they're already too disillusioned about too many virtues in the world.
"He stopped us from leaving with him. He was angry with us, but had said, in the forced calmness of his, that the city would fall apart without us to rally at least Ôsome' people together to one cause. I failed him. The city was worse with our presence. We should've gone with Finrod," said Celegorm quietly. "Then perhaps he would still be alive and Nargothrond would not be a mesh of lies and the mortal lover of Luthien would have lived. If we had wentÉmaybe our oath would've ended.
"If you had went. You would've been hostages to Morgoth and immobilizing us for years to come. I can't afford to lose any of you." Maedhros said. He handed the decanter to Celegorm, who looked up at him with tired eyes. "It's not a trade." And without another word, left.
When the door shut, Celegorm lifted the lip of the decanter to his mouth and paused. There was Finrod's ghost, sitting there, smiling in that strange way of his. Celegorm toasted the ghost and took a deep swallow of the rich wine, and slowly, the ghost faded in front of him.