hadriel_logs | (Closed)

Curufin wasn't sleeping at home much, since he was spending a lot of time over at Yukari's house, taking care of him. He had taken a semi-leave from the Guard, but he was checking in at Guard HQ every day. However, he made it home sometime during every day to check in with his relatives -- and check up on them. And now that Yukari was improving, Curufin felt a little more comfortable leaving him for more extended periods of time.

Still, he wasn't sleeping. He was restless, and anyway, he didn't need to sleep much. He was an Elf, after all, and a First Age Elf at that. Somehow, the light of Valinor still lived in his brain, and it seemed to make sleep doubly unnecessary. (At least, that was Curufin's theory.)

He heard Celebrimbor's feet moving softly down the hall, and the very slight tap of his cane. He rose from his desk and came to open the door.

"Hello, Cel. Can't you sleep?" he said, softly. He put his hand on his son's shoulder and ushered him in, pulling out the best chair for him.

He had noticed the absence and he knew of Yukari, though he found it odd that Curufin was so fixated on someone that was a stranger to him. His fear of pushing his father away kept him from questioning him - especially if Curufin looked worried or stressed already. Leaning against his cane, he smiled, faintly, and the expression did not reach his eyes. They remained troubled - distant - and he was covered in a cold sweat.

"No." he dropped his gaze, "How is Yukari?"

Celebrimbor followed where his father led and lowered himself onto the chair, rearranging his robe to cover his legs. The hand that gripped his cane was shaking and he glared at it, forcing it to stop through sheer will.

"You never rest either." and it would catch up with both of them; if not physically, then mentally.

Curufin pulled up a chair beside his son and gave him a long, tender look. Which of course, included some careful observation. The disjointed gaze and smile, the sheen of sweat, the diffident manner: Cel was suffering. It could be flashbacks, it could be something else. Whatever it was, his father wanted to know.

"Yukari's improving. I escorted him to the shops a few days ago, just to give him a chance to get out of the house, get a little exercise, and make a first try at a longer perspective." Of course, part of that was an extremely awkward conversation with Will Graham, but oh well!

Curufin perceived that shaking hand. He reached out and laid his hand gently on top of Celebrimbor's. He stroked his son's hand gently, as though to say, Don't glare at your poor hand; it's just trying to tell me something I should know.

"You're right, I hardly do ever rest. Not just now, but anytime. But Cel, what's the matter? You look very stressed."

Edited 2017-02-21 03:14 (UTC)

His father's gaze was like a warm fire, reflecting heat and easing his fears and doubts. The tension in his shoulders and his back made him feel as if he had been frozen, but Curufin was melting those stubborn muscles. He did not feel so panicked anymore, though his body still showed signs of his desperate struggle against his pain and his demons.

"Is there anything I can do for him?" he glanced at the hand touching his own, his fingers relaxing their grip on his cane in favor of squeezing Curufin's fingers affectionately. Still, it shook and he sighed, doing his best to push Sauron's voice from his thoughts.

"I wondered... Would we rest better if we did so together?" oh how childish. Yet even as an adult, Curufin was mighty in his eyes. The demons surely wouldn't challenge him.

"I feel the pain...worse at night. Those at the clinic have given me herbs for pain, but they are strong and addictive." so he used them sparingly in his tea, "I hear...his voice in the dark. Sometimes it's Black Speech, but I understand some of it. Does that make me cursed?"

Curufin was naturally worried about his son. Some days were better than others, and he tried to be aware of these changes. Trauma and the lasting effects of trauma have a rhythm of their own.

"Thank you, Cel, If there is anything, I'lll be sure to let you know. And thank you for asking. I. . . care for Yukari."

He had told Celebrimbor about the injury, on the day it had happened, when Curufin had dashed back to the house and explained to Cel and Maedhros what the situation was, and that he would need to be away from home a lot to help Yukari for a bit. What he hadn't told Cel was that they were dating. And now he was sort of implying this.

But his concern at this moment was for Celebrimbor. He squeezed his son's fingers in return. He could feel the tremor in them.

"Perhaps we could try it. I was going to snatch a couple of hours of rest here and then do some paperwork for Guard HQ. We could go into your room?"

He gazed at his beloved son. Somehow, he was going to have to respond to the needs of both these people whom he loved. Well, he would find a way. Nobody need lose out. It would just take some thought.

He didn't think any the worse of Cel for wanting his father near. When Celebrimbor was small, Curufin had always been there to chase away the bad dreams, to be his bulwark against the shadows. His experiences were bound to bring back that need. And it was true that having someone you love by your side gives the demons pause. Even Curufin knew that.

He nodded. Cel's explanation made sense to him. Horrible sense, but logical. "I don't think that makes you cursed. I think it just means that your whole being still reverberates to the sound of his voice, even though that was in the past. And I understand some of the Black Speech myself. We're linguists, my son. Our brains make sense of sounds and patterns we have never been taught to decode. We just do it, without knowing how we do it."

And he reached over and stroked his son's cheek with gentle fingers.

"To what extent, Atar? I know it must be...strange...for you to speak of your feelings to me, but I support you." he was concerned for Yukari on a basic being to being basis, but if Curufin was beginning to consider the Man family, Celebrimbor wished to do more for both of them. Stress would weigh down a new relationship and his father deserved better.

His cheeks pinked when Curufin agreed to his request - for it had been a request; not a suggestion. They both knew he was weaker alone; weaker when he was singled out. Sauron had discovered that and cut him off from even those he called his closest kin. It aggravated him that the Maia's actions would continue to haunt him with or without his permission.

"Will you be comfortable in my room with me? I do not mind sleeping here with you." he glanced around, sensing his father's presence in every nook and cranny of the room, "Mm."

Curufin was right. Languages came to him with surprising ease. He had even picked up some Dwarvish while working on the door to the Mines of Moria. How could he not begin to understand Black Speech while the Enemy held him captive?

"How can I help you?" Celebrimbor did not like to take and take; that wasn't fair. He covered the hand against his cheek with his own. "I finished my staff. Would you like to see it?"

To what extent? It was true that it felt strange for him to speak of his feelings to Celebrimbor. But maybe that's because he so had so rarely spoken of his feelings for Cel's mother to Cel himself.

And then, later -- when Curfuin and his wife were separated -- he had had a number of liaisons with others, but never anything permanent. Kisses in the hallway, a swift union in the forest during a hunting expedition, a look and a caress while scouting the weave of streams out in the Plain of Ard-galen. Rarely a night together. Curfuin was a strong man and a passionate one, but his heart belonged to his son and his brothers, and he had never thought of bringing any of these casual lovers into the family in the role of consort.

And so he had not had the occasion to explain anything to his son.

But he owed it to him now. Yukari wasn't a casual lover; that much had become clear to Curufin in a very short period of time. And if he was going to be around for the duration, then this would have an effect on Curufin's family -- and they had a right to know about him and to meet him.

"I have become very attached to him in a very short time. We are growing emotionally close, without either of us having planned on this. We had a friendship that began with a battle of wits, and it has turned into something very much deeper. I would like it if he could come here and be welcome. And, Cel, I appreciate it that you have taken the opportunity to bring up the subject. Thank you for that." His last sentence was spoken in a very gentle tone.

"Where would you be most comfortable? Your room, or mine? Either is fine." They would have time to fall asleep together, and it would nurture them both. Even if Curufin stayed awake, it would have the same effect.

Curufin would have been surprised if Cel hadn't picked up some Dwarvish. He had probably spent far more time with the Dwarves of the Misty Mountains than Curufin had spent with those of Belegost and Nogrod. And he couldn't imagine they wouldn't have been willing to help Cel learn the language.

And as for the Black Speech? Curufin was used to hearing it shouted or shrieked in battle, or to overhearing it while he was on those scouting missions and he was creeping close to an Orc encampment. It was important enough for his brain to decode. How much more essential would it have been to Celebrimbor? -- it would have had the force of necessity times a thousand.

"You can help me by being open to speaking with Yukari. Just give him the same chance as you would give anyone you might meet in Hadriel. He's a complex person -- just as we Fëanorians are. I think that's part of the attraction, to tell you the truth. He has real sweetness, and I hope he will show you that side of himself." Which is code for: He can be a asshole, too, like I and your uncles can. But he knows Yukari will bring his best to any meeting with Curufin's relatives. Just as Curufin would if he were meeting somebody who was important to Yukari.

"I'd love to see your staff! You were going to carve your pony's head on it. How did it turn out?"

Edited 2017-02-24 10:04 (UTC)

Love could be sought, of course, but for them, it usually came upon them silently, secretly. Celebrimbor remembered how his heart had yearned for Artanis. She had been kind when she had refused him and they had stayed friends - much to his relief. Yet he had thought he would never feel love and be loved. For some time he had thrown himself into ruling their people and seeing to their safety and comfort. Then she had approached him during a council meeting. Her wit had been razor sharp and her smile had been enough to melt his heart. He had been drawn to her - and afraid.

How could a lady who was so wise and so sweet accept him - the final Fëanorian (for he had little news concerning his uncles)? She had spent much time reassuring him, coaxing him to court her. Eventually, Celebrimbor had given into his desire and decided, quite swiftly, to marry her. They had been happy for a time and he loved her. She was his best friend as well as his wife.

When his daughter had been born, he couldn't have been more joyful. The little girl seemed to represent that the future was hopeful. He had broken, at last, the curse of his family.

But he had been wrong. He had let his guard down too quickly - too easily - and then Annatar had come. He had seduced him and Celebrimbor was ashamed at what he done. He had been disrespectful to his wife and to their child. Surely their precious fëas would never want to see him again.

So, as such, he knew he had no room to judge Curufin. He would always love his father, rain or shine, light or dark.

"I had a suspicion that was so." his lips twitched and he let out a small breath, "I love you, Atar; those who bring you joy are always welcome." he narrowed his eyes playfully, "Though I do not hope you forget me and Uncle Maedhros."

As if that were possible. He knew the bonds between Fëanorians were unbreakable - even in utter insanity.

"Here. Please." he bit his lip and pushed himself up, leaning forward slightly to kiss Curufin's forehead, "I will contact him and be on my best behavior." his eyes are warm, sweet and, most of all, a bit mischievous, "Stay here. I will gather it."

Using his cane once more, Celebrimbor left the room, gathered his staff and walked back. The end product was beautiful and strong. The horse head at the top had a neck that was arched proudly, but there was more to it. Further down the staff, there were other symbols, one for each uncle, his wife, his daughter and, yes, for Curufin. The piece was a veritable symbolic family tree!

Edited 2017-02-25 04:27 (UTC)

It was the same with both father and son. They would love each other no matter what happened.

And it was true that Curufin and his son had this in common -- that love came to them unexpectedly. (In this world or any other.^^)

"Don't worry," he said, smiling in response to his son's playful eyes. "I will certainly not forget you and your Uncle Maedhros!"

And he put his arms around Celebrimbor when his son kissed his forehead. "I shall not move from this spot." He grinned. "Show me your workmanship!"

When his son returned, Curfuin examined the staff and each of its carved symbols with wonder. "I see you have the whole family here. This is beautiful! Even with a simple everyday object such as this, you show your skill and artistry. You really are the best of us. . . in more ways than one."

Edited 2017-02-25 10:01 (UTC)

The bond had been struck the moment Curufin held Celebrimbor for the first time; the baby had calmed almost immediately, sensing he was home. Now was no different and they both needed all of the extra love they could get from this world or any other.

"I will hunt you down if you do!" he grinned at the embrace and returned it, squeezing Curufin tightly before he retrieved his staff. It said much that he was proud of his craftsmanship and he blushed as his father examined his work.

"I cannot say I believe that." his family was filled with much good, "I am able to show all the good you taught me. You were not given such a chance."

Amen to that!

"That would be fearsome, my own son hunting me down. I would tremble in my boots." He grinned back, and gave his son's hair an extra ruffle. "No doubt when you found me, you'd give me such a knock on the head with your staff that I'd be able to think of nothing but family for a long time!"

It felt good that they could joke with each other again, as they had done long ago in Himlad.

And he gave Cel a long glance of tender appreciation. "You have always spoken for the best that is in us, as a family. I think the rest of us are extremely lucky to have you, Cel."

"Yes, Atar, you should tremble. I would show you no mercy and give you no rest!" he chuckled, giving away the silliness of his words, "I am a vengeful sort." Celebrimbor beamed, the expression feeling foreign on his face, "You are entirely correct. I will not lose sight of you again."

Not for anything.

Holding his staff close to his chest, he flushed, gaze dropping: "I am blessed to be your son; I am blessed to have so many uncles. My heart was full as a child and I have carried that with me ever since."

"Oh, don't I know it!" exclaimed Curufin, laughing and hugging him again -- staff and all. It was good to see Cel beaming.

And he pulled back just a little in order to enjoy the expression on his son's face.

"When you were a child, that was all my thought, to give you as many blessings as possible." Because there was so much he could not give him. He could not give him his mother back, and he could not give him an entirely safe country in which to grow up. Curufin had not had the habit of thinking much about the future, in those days, but when he did, he had an ominous feeling about it. And so he strove to let the child know how much he was loved, and to make him feel he was an essential part of the family. In case the future should shatter all that they had.

"If your heart was full when you were a child, and you carry that with you still, then. . . I can only rejoice. There is a light in you, my son. I saw it the very first time I held you in my arms. And that light has survived, through all we have been through -- together and separately -- and I am glad every time I look upon your face."

The staff would not stand between him and an embrace from his father. Celebrimbor held it to the side and closed his eyes peacefully. His smile was softer, but no less bright, when Curufin pulled away.

"You did. I was a child given many gifts and so much love. What happened after that time has not dimmed those blessings. I hold them in my heart even now." and they helped him stand tall on his bad days when his thoughts and physical pain threatened to overwhelm him, "I took the light I found in you, in my uncles and I made it my own."

He kissed Curufin's temple and set his staff against one of the walls. Then he sat down on his Atar's bed and drew his hair over one shoulder.

"I tried to keep track of Uncle Kano. I heard tales of him now and then - I thought I saw him once - but he was like a ghost."

Curufin sat down, too, kicked his boots off, and then pushed them under the bed with his foot, so they would not trip his son if he got up before Curufin did.

He reached over and pulled the blankets and quilts down and gave the pillows a punch to fluff them up.

And then he lay down, and indicated that Celebrimbor could come and snuggle up, as he had when he was a child.

"I was with your Uncle Maglor in the world I lived in before I came here. He was still struggling with all that we as a family have gone through. But he was not doing too badly, considering. I think he was a bit exasperated with me at times. . . " And he chuckled, a little mischievously. "But he was glad to have some of his family back. Even the black sheep of the family."

"Yes, he said that he had wandered far, and that he did not have the heart to come amongst his own people. But I think that if he had seen you, maybe he would have made an exception."

Edited 2017-02-28 11:48 (UTC)

Celebrimbor was cautious, unsure, until Curufin openly invited him to nestle close. He shifted across the bed, moving his leg with care so that it rested comfortably between them. Then he laid his head against his father's shoulder, embracing him with one arm.

"You were?" he peered up at him with interest, "That sounds like him! He was never particularly good at hiding his frustrations." oh but he was fond of his uncle's peculiarities, "He loves you; of course he would be glad to see you."

The thought of Maglor visiting him properly made him smile. "I would have a feast for him and completely embarrass him."

Curufin wrapped his arm around his son and settled him close. And then he pulled the covers up over them.

"True," he laughed. "And of course, all his younger brothers teased him mercilessly in order to try to make him frustrated. We were a bunch of scamps when we were children. And he didn't get to be a rascal, because he was so busy trying to be a deputy mother. He had to be responsible too much of the time, and we took advantage. But he still loved us, all of us. And later, he loved you."

"Oh, I think a feast would have been such a good idea!" He was grinning. He could just imagine poor Maglor's embarrassed face.

Edited 2017-02-28 12:41 (UTC)

Almost immediately, Celebrimbor relaxed and he snuggled a little closer, breathing in Curufin's comforting scent. He remembered doing this as a child after long days of adventure and exploration.

"I do not think he minded you being scamps." he chuckled too, unable to stop himself when his father laughed, "I love him too. I love his music and his mothering." he grinned, "I would tell all of my uncles what they mean to me if I could see them again."

He realized belatedly that such things should be put into words. How else would anyone know?

"At least I wouldn't make him perform for his own feast?" his smile was nearly identical to the sort of expression Curufin might get if he was planning something devious.

Curufin remembered those days well. Celebrimbor may have been a shy child at times, but not all the time. He was an avid learner and explorer, and there was no corner of the fortress -- or for that matter, any of the uncle's fortresses -- that he did not know. And it was the same with the hillsides and valleys and streams of Himlad and Aglon, and a fair amount of the uncles' territories as well.

It had been sweet to curl up with his son in those days, to breathe the scent of his hair and to watch him fall asleep, to know they would wake up together and go off to breakfast and compare dreams.

And he chuckled, as regards his older brother the bard. "No, I don't think he minded much. Although he did sometimes to threaten to drop us off the top of the Mindon Lighthouse." The grin grows wider for a moment.

"He is an amazing musician. He taught all of us -- to some extent. I have his persistence to thank for my ability with the harp and the viol. And I hope you have the chance, someday, to tell the rest of your uncles how much you love them. They certainly love you!"

"Yes, I'm afraid it would be a bit much to make him play and sing at his own feast. You might have had to do that yourself." And he could see that expression on his son's face. It was funny, how much father and son resembled each other, at devious moments.

He was a Fëanorian at heart and if there were places to explore, by Eru, he would explore them! But he always returned to the warm embrace of his father, filled with stories of what he had seen and done. Celebrimbor - even as a child - had not been prone to lies. He was open and clear with his family; even on the dark day he cut ties with them, he had been firm and honest.

The Darkness was forgotten in Curufin's arms and he thought perhaps he was being selfish for seeking safety here. Where would his father find such comfort? Celebrimbor embraced him as he heard the chuckle.

"An empty threat! He would sooner follow you as you plunged." he exhaled and closed his eyes, "I have naught to complain about on that front. My family is better than any other. Those who think poorly of them do not know them."

Celebrimbor blushed. "I would sing for him and let him critique me, I suppose." he grinned bashfully, "That would break him from his embarrassment! That note is flat, Telpe!"

And that was true. Celebrimbor had a rock-solid integrity, and the whole family knew it and loved him for it. Even on that terrible day when he had refused to leave Nargothrond with Curufin and Celegorm, he had maintained that clarity and honesty.

Curufin was not immediately worried about where he would find this comfort for himself. He was more concerned about giving comfort, and that was all right. He did not want his son to feel selfish for seeking this from his father. It was Curufin's joy to give what his son needed. It was the least he could do, after all that Cel had been through.

He laughed again, thinking of Maglor's acerbic side. "True enough. He was a poet, so I guess that made him good at vivid but empty threats." His shoulders shook with his laughter. Oh, how he loved Maglor! "Well. . . I think that sometimes we Fëanorians are. . . as the mortal saying goes. . . an acquired taste. But it's true that we love one another. That has always been our great strength."

"And about that hypothetical feast! -- I completely agree with you. That would be the winning strategy. Sing for him and let him turn into the stern music teacher!" Of course he could recommend that plan because he had used it himself, in his childhood and later on, to pry Maglor out of his habitual compulsive shyness.

"Did you keep up with the harp, too?" he asked, giving Cel's hair a gentle ruffle to let him know he was still joking about Maglor. Nobody could play like Maglor, but that didn't matter even to Maglor. Beneath his stern critical instruction, he had been pleased with his students.

Curufin truly possessed a father's heart and Celebrimbor was glad of it. Yet he hoped, now that he was grown, they could see one another as companions too. He would be proud to be called a friend for they were decided consciously; not by Eru or nature.

"He was a poet with a heart of gold." he grinned at the shaking under his cheek, thinking fondly of his stern, yet often quiet uncle, "I say you are a taste worth acquiring." his lips quirked and he laid his left hand on Curufin's chest, his fingers stretching out. He wore his wedding band, though he knew he had little right to it.

"I would sing for him and let him lecture me all he liked. He was always at his best when he did that."

Maglor's eyes would brighten during those speeches and he would become a true teacher and leader. Celebrimbor had feared and loved him - a not uncommon reaction to many of his family members.

"I did." his answer was soft and sincere, "I made one and kept it in the nursery..."

For an obvious use; a use which made his throat feel tight and sore.

Edited 2017-03-07 10:44 (UTC)

[ Moved left. ]

Curufin had the same wish. He loved his son and wanted to nurture him, but besides that, he also wanted them to be companions. Friends. They had much in common, and they would have liked one another even if they hadn't been related. And relatives can consciously decide to be friends.

He grinned at the jest. "You're included, Cel. You, too, are a Fëanorian and a taste worth acquiring."

He saw that Celebrimbor was still wearing his wedding ring. He respected that. His son had loved his wife and daughter dearly, and if he wanted to remember them in this way, then he should.

Curufin nodded and smiled again as Cel described his plan. "And so he was. When the topic was music, he would forget all his hesitations and be what he naturally was -- a teacher and a leader."

And he had had the same reaction to Maglor, when he was a child and Maglor was his almost-grown up elder brother. He had feared him and loved him.

When Cel's voice grew soft, Curufin simply leaned his head on his son's. "I'll bet your daughter loved to hear you make music," he replied, in an equally soft voice.

"It means a great deal to me that you still count me as one of the family." Celebrimbor raised himself slightly, peering at Curufin's features. His father was as handsome and daring as ever, but the traits that had led him so recklessly into the clutches of the Oath had softened. He was determined that no one would hurt him or take advantage of his newly rediscovered kind nature.

"Seeing you must have done him much good." he laid his head back down, growing quiet when the topic shifted to his harp and the nursery. He had built his daughter's cradle by hand and he had played simple songs for her. She had been so good and it was only when she wanted to be held again that she fussed.

The gentle contact awoke him from his memories and he blushed. "I built her cradle." a clear sign of a doting and enthusiastic father, "She would lay so still when I played for her. The moment I stopped, she wanted to be held."

His lovely, bright girl who he never denied when it came to embraces and kisses.

"Of course I count you as one of the family!" Curufin said, quietly. "You are the scion of the House of Fëanor, but you are far more than that -- you are the best thing that ever happened to us." He knew that Celebrimbor had been profoundly hurt by his father's rejection when they parted in Nargothrond, though Cel would probably never tell him so. And now, Curufin would say over and over, as many times as Cel needed to hear it, that he was loved, appreciated, and admired. Sweet, brave Celebrimbor. And it was a measure of Cel's sweetness that he wanted to protect his father!

Thinking of Maglor in his last world: "I hope it did him some good. Seeing him was a most profound healing experience for me. I hope someday that you and he may meet again."

He smiled with tenderness for his son's tender love for his daughter. "I can so easily picture you as a father, playing your harp by your child's hand-crafted cradle. Your child must have loved to lie there enjoying the serenity of being loved by you, hearing the sparkling notes rising into the air." In that, Cel was following family tradition, for Maglor had done the same for his younger brothers, and for some of his cousins, and for Cel himself.

"I do not feel worthy much of the time, Atar. I think, sometimes, that I was not meant for you or for my uncles. What if there was another son, far stronger in mind and body, that was given to Elves or Men or Dwarves of lesser breeding? I ensured you never met." by merely existing. Celebrimbor was weary of his depressed thoughts, but they heckled and hounded him nonetheless.

And of course he cared for his father and wanted him safe. Had not Curufin sweetly accepted him - not once or twice, but every single time Celebrimbor approached him? Save once, of course, but he was stubborn over the fact that his father had not been acting like himself then.

"I know you must miss all of your brothers." he flushed and hid his face partially against Curufin's shoulder, "She did not seem to complain." but his good-natured little girl hadn't complained much about anything - even when she had every right to! That in turn had made him an attentive father. If she would not cry and make a fuss when she felt ill or hurt, he would do so for her.

Only...in a more mature fashion, of course. ~~Though his wife often told him she felt she had two children!~~

Curufin already had one arm wrapped around his son and was holding him on his shoulder, but now he lifted his other hand and stroked Cel's hair softly.

"I think you were meant for us all along. If there was another son, he could not have been more worthy than you are, Telpë." He had called his son by this nickname when he was young. In those years, they had spoken more Quenya. Later on, Sindarin had taken over as the language of everyday, and he had been more inclined to call his son Cel, short for Celebrimbor -- which was quite a mouthful, almost as much as Telperinquar. When he called him Telpë, it was usually a way of invoking the earliest part of their relationship, when they were hardly ever apart, and they felt so connected that it was hard for either to think of himself without including the other. Later, when Cel was an adolescent and then a young adult and then a full adult, Curufin called him Cel to invoke their separateness as human beings, in order to give his son the space to develop his own identity, but also to invoke the cheerful and affectionate camaraderie that typified their relationship in those years.

"Besides. . . I think this other son is imaginary. A vision of your fears. But those fears are not your responsibility; they are mine. There was something you needed from me that you did not get. I don't know whether that need arises from those years when you were small -- especially during that time when your mother and I were separating -- or whether it is from later on. It must have been a nightmare for you, when the Oath awoke from its temporary sleep, and I began to seem a different person. And worst of all, when we went to Nargothrond and everything came unravelled." He was silent, then, for a few moments.

"I do miss your uncles, enormously! -- except for Maedhros, of course, since he's here. But it's not the same, it's never been the same, as missing you, my son!"

And he smiled to think of Cel's daughter, taking in her father's love, growing strong and secure in its shelter.

~~Nor would he think less of Cel if his wife felt she had two children! All wives felt that way, so far as Curufin knew. Maybe it was because all husbands were childish?~~ ~~Guilty as charged!~~

His names did indeed call forth memories; good memories of a loving, supportive and exceptionally energetic family. No matter which moniker Curufin chose to use, his heart warmed at the sound. The nervous tension brought on by thinking himself not good enough was dispelled and he closed his eyes, leaning into the hand stroking his hair.

"Please do not blame yourself, Atar. My weaknesses are my own; I let them fester in my mind and heart. I let myself be vulnerable to the Dark." but Curufin did have a point. His anxieties had begun when he was a child. Even young children could sense when their parents were not happy and Celebrimbor was no different. Then Curufin had left and he had felt utterly abandoned. He had invented horrible reasons for why his father would leave - and none of them had to do with his mother. He alone shouldered the blame of his parents parting.

Deep inside, even after he was reunited with Curufin, those thoughts plagued him. His father shifting from a gentle, welcoming presence in his life to a hard, cold warrior hadn't helped either. Celebrimbor possessed a gentle heart and though he was cursed with the Fëanorian love of beauty and beautiful things, he frankly would have been more content living a simple life.

"I love my uncles too and of course I miss them - Uncle Maitimo excluded obviously - but I missed you more than all of them combined." he reflected Curufin's smile, embracing him as he gave a little stretch.

"We're all vulnerable to the Dark," Curufin said, still caressing his son's hair. "Even the brightest spirits are. And yours is one of the brightest I've ever known."

But he had always had a feeling that he had made his son more vulnerable to the Dark than he had to be, though. When he had let Súlriel take their son away to her new home, it had been pure anguish to see the child go. He felt that his heart had been torn in two. But he had done what he had thought was right -- letting the child go with his mother. Only, it hadn't been the right thing at all. And Súlriel had been more savvy than her husband -- she knew, when Celebrimbor grieved without ceasing, as though he were mourning the dead, that nothing was going to ease the child's pain until he was returned to his father. And that was the meaning of the simple note she had written: He misses you too much. You had better raise him. She was a woman of few words, but those few, to Curufin's eye, were eloquent of her pain and her knowledge.

Curufin had never wanted his son to blame himself. And he had suspected that Cel would do so, and so he had spoken to him, trying to take this burden from him. But back in those days, Curufin had not known all that he had needed to know. He was so close to his own youth, and still so blind to the feelings of others, so unknowledgeable. His attempts to explain things to his son were not the worst attempts, since he had not cast blame on anyone for the separation, and he had tried to empathize with his son's pain. The two of them had been close, and his arms had always been open to Celebrimbor. (Until Nargothrond, that is.) Still, something had been lacking. And Cel had paid the price. A price he had never owed.

Curufin responded to the embrace by hugging his son again. "I missed you, too. Nothing was ever right again, after I had abandoned you in Nargothrond. My heart was a frozen chunk of ice in those days, but deep inside the ice, there was still some kind of feeling. I wasn't always aware of it, but when I was, I knew I had made the worst mistake of my life. We went back to Amon Ereb and finished building the fortress there. I remember, I used to lean on the rampart wall and gaze west. I couldn't see anything but cliffs and forest cover, but it was as though my heart were trying somehow to reach you, so far away in the caves of Nargothrond. In my saner moments -- and granted, there were not many of those by that time -- I suspected it was better that you were with Orodreth than with me. I think I knew in my heart that I was bound for destruction, and at least, I was not going to be guilty of taking you into the Darkness with me. Little did I know. . . oh Cel, I so wish I could have been with you in the Second Age! As a sane man, not as the madman I was when we parted."

Edited 2017-03-27 20:16 (UTC)

He felt a flush climb up his neck to his cheeks. It had been a long time since he had felt so appreciated and so loved. The Darkness of Sauron - or even Morgoth - could not extinguish this Light. His father was giving it to him freely and he was locking it away in his heart for when the Shadows came again.

"You fanned my Light; you made it brighter with your love." Celebrimbor whispered the words against Curufin's chest, breathing deep and even. Already he was slipping into a meditation, his body warm and his pain diminished by herbs and his father's strong hold. Right now, his leg wasn't throbbing and he wasn't nauseated by his past. Curufin was pushing away all the negativity; all the self-hatred and guilt. He felt like a child again, surrounded by the love of family.

Except... He knew, despite all that his father was giving him, that he had abandoned him twice. Sauron's voice reminded him of that fact, urging him to be wary lest Curufin do it again. When will you learn? No one can stay with you indefinitely. They will either leave of their own choosing or some great ill will take them from you.

That is your curse. He shivered and stared at the wall opposite of the bed, his body as stiff as a piece of wood.

"Don't you find it...odd...that our paths kept splitting? Everyone speaks of the curse on our family and I foolishly thought myself free of it once I cut ties with you; with everyone. But...I was wrong. The curse lies within me. That is why no one can stay by my side." and he was so tired of losing love, but he knew, this time, it might be best for him to be the one who pulled away. For Curufin's sake. For Maedhros's sake.

Edited 2017-03-28 09:05 (UTC)

"I am glad of it, if you feel that way. That was what I wanted, from the beginning, from the first time I held you in my arms. I wanted your Light to flourish." And he had wanted to give his son a world in which that could happen.

They had a few happy moments, then, lying in the darkness with only the hall light seeping under the door, the house quiet, the two of them glad to be exchanging these hopeful words with one another, glad to be able to hold one another as in the far distant past.

But Curufin knew that something was amiss when Celebrimbor's posture altered so significantly. His son went in just a few minutes from relaxed and almost sleepy to rigid and frightened.

"What is wrong, Cel?" he murmured.

"How could the curse lie within you? You were born into our family without knowing what the future might be; you were not given a choice. The Oath was the curse of my generation, not of yours. We brought it on ourselves, and it affected you, but it was not in you. My dear son, you are innocent of that Darkness. And you are innocent of the dreadful things that befell you and your wife and child."

And he was not having any of that! -- it was not for Celebrimbor to try to protect Curufin and Maedhros from himself! In fact, it was they who were supposed to protect him from all peril. They didn't do it, in the old days, or at least, not very well. But they were both here now to tell him as many times as he needed to hear it, that he was worthy of love, and that they would not abandon him of their own free will. And for Curufin's part, he would fight with all his power to make sure that Cel was not abandoned again. "I will stay by your side, my son."

Edited 2017-03-29 04:27 (UTC)

"It is how I feel." he considered himself blessed; not neglected, not forgotten. Yes, the times Curufin had left him behind - or vice versa - had left a deep mark on his fëa, but he had overcome it. The Light his father had given him; the Light bestowed upon him by his mother and his uncles was fierce and it refused to die. Inevitably that was the Light that had attracted Sauron and brought about Celebrimbor's downfall.

Oh he hated that Maia. He hated his voice, his touch, his smile, his laugh...

"I...am...cursed." he forced out, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on his body, causing him to shiver, "Innocents do not choose. I... I did. I did not know who he was, but I let down my guard."

Horrible images swirled in his mind and he sat up, feeling sick. Curufin's voice was louder than Sauron's though; his voice was real, not imagined. Real and loved.

"Wh-Why?" he gripped the blankets to make his hands stop trembling, "What if something bad happens to you?"

Curufin felt his son trembling, and he wrapped his arm more snugly around him. There was no immediate remedy for this kind of pain, though Curufin would have given anything to have been able to provide one. He thought about Cel's insistence that he was cursed, knowing that the hideous abuse his son had suffered had left its traces in his heart in exactly this fashion -- that he felt the evil was somehow in himself. Curufin could keep refuting that idea, and he would, but the only real thing he had to offer was love, tenderness, and compassion.

"Innocents do choose," Curufin finally said. "You were faced with a situation you could not have anticipated. How were you to know? -- oh, maybe by what my mortal friends call 20-20 hindsight -- but at the time, how were you to know that this Annatar was not who he said he was? -- or even to suspect? And you had to make a choice. You made it as best you could. Besides. . . nobody's guard is up all the time."

When Cel suddenly sat up, Curufin reached out his hand and gently stroked his son's back.

"I don't intend to let anything separate us," he said, quietly. "And if intentions have any power in this or any other world, we won't be separated."

He breathed in shakily, the air catching in his throat painfully. He coughed into his hand and tried to be logical, but his mind was a tangled mess of memories he didn't want. Each image plagued him and they felt like fresh blows, though he knew they couldn't be. Time had passed and he wasn't with Annatar or Sauron anymore. He was with his father. Safe.

"I was told...by a dear friend to be cautious. To not trust. I felt the same way as she, but... Maia are skilled at...much." Celebrimbor felt his stomach roiling and he sat up, grimacing. The hand on his back helped him to steady and the muscle contractions eased. With a small sigh, he turned and tucked himself against Curufin.

"I love you very much Atar. To lose you...would break me. I would forget even how to speak." he knew this of himself. Curufin's absence would be the final blow.

"Yes, the Maiar have skills we Elves don't. They find it much easier to take on a form that is not their accustomed one, and if they are evilly inclined, they can use it to deceive, with great cleverness. Your friend may have been right, but Sauron's deception was aimed specifically at you. It was crafted for you. It would have been almost impossible to see through such a targeted illusion. Besides, he's a skillful observer of Elves and Elvish society. He would have known how to convince you he was who he said he was."

When Celebrimbor lay back down and nestled close to his father again, Curufin enclosed him in his arm once more, drawing him close so that the son could rest his head on the father's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around his son and stroked the uppermost shoulder soothingly.

"I love you, too, my dear son. I don't intend to leave you. Is there something in particular that brings up that fear, now?"

Edited 2017-04-05 02:45 (UTC)

The wisdom of Curufin's words infiltrated his overly hard and stubborn head like a gentle rain finally soaking into the dry, cracked earth. Celebrimbor tucked himself close and let the soothing words and the slow motion of his father's hand chase away the demons that ate away at his logic and common sense.

"He knew, the bastard. He knew I would be emotional...and prideful...if he pushed the right buttons." and it sickened him that he had played the part Sauron wished so well, "He doesn't know about the final act. His cursed eye can't see all of Arda."

Oh he hoped the Maia was sleeping restlessly, worrying about what he missed.

"I always have that fear." he replied honestly, "I just don't say it."

Curufin shook his head slightly and tucked his son closer. It was all his desire, to be like a gentle rain that soothes and nurtures and encourages the needy earth.

"He's a champion button-pusher. That's probably how he became Morgoth's right-hand man, as our mortal friends would say. Right-hand Maia." He snorted with contempt.

"What is the final act? I can't see all of Arda, either."

He was still stroking that shoulder tenderly. "I can sometime guess what's in your mind. And I think that you and I sometimes share thoughts. But I can't always read you. I guess reading other Elves' thoughts has never been my forté anyway. I think if it had been, I'd have had better protection against falling prey to my own worst inclinations." He was thinking of Nargothrond. He hadn't been able to hear anybody's thoughts but his own during that time. And Celegorm's, of course -- which simply magnified the darkness.

"But you can speak of your fears to me. I will not think less of you if you do. And comfort is never far away, my son. You have only to ask for it."

Edited 2017-04-11 09:37 (UTC)

His lips quirked at the description. How apt! It was soothing, somehow, to imagine Sauron in such ridiculous and simple terms. He deserved no less! Celebrimbor had given him far too much time in his nightmares.

"He is naught but a minion." he toyed with the fabric covering Curufin's chest, biting his lip, "My rings...are not all known to him. He cannot find them though he seeks them with a desperate hunger. Those who possess my rings are strengthened by them. They will see that the fate of Arda is positive; they will survive." his voice was unsteady with emotion as he recalled his dear friends, "If they unite their rings towards a singular goal, they will have an opportunity to overwhelm Sauron and his ring. He has put so much of himself into the forging of ring he bears on his finger that if it is destroyed, he will be severely weakened."

Then someone need only strike the final blow. He raised his gaze and smiled. "Ask me what I am thinking; I will not lie to you."

It was one way to cut an enemy down to size -- without even a sword. Words could be weapons, and they could be aimed even at an absent opponent.

And he listened to his son's assessment of the situation in the world he had left. "Then let us hope that they know the value of the gifts you gave them, and can unite as you describe. Being a little saner than I was in our world, I have faith that unity can bring down even such an enemy as Sauron. It brought down Morgoth himself, in the end. So if the master, than why not the servant?"

And he met Celebrimbor's gaze and smiled back. "What are you thinking?"

"Yes." he breathed, relieved to hear Curufin's assessment. He believed in his friends; he trusted them with the task and they outnumbered Sauron. But oh how he hated that he left them behind.

Then again maybe that was for the best if the curse of their family truly existed.

The vibrant, passionate glow on his features flickered - becoming something shyer - when he felt the warmth of Curufin's smile. He tucked his cheek against his father's shoulder and peeked up at him.

"I am thinking I wish we could return - together - and see him finished. We could do it without the rings."

Curufin would have argued about that curse. He did not contest that he himself had carried a curse and probably deserved it. But his son? Who had sworn no Oath and had never had anything in his soul but kindness and virtue? There was no justice, no justice at all, in his being a vehicle for the family curse. But he could see why Cel feared it was so. His experiences had left him with not much choice about that.

He gathered his son more closely against his shoulder and smiled down at that shy, beloved face.

"Truthfully, I wish we could, too. I agree with you. We could do it. With the two of us united and knowing everything that we now know, Sauron would not have a chance against us and your friends." He sighed. "But I wonder if there will ever be any way to prove that. I have heard rumors of people returning to their own worlds, but I am not sure I believe that anyone ever does. It may be that once out of our original worlds, we simply continue to travel. But of course, I don't know for sure."

(Closed)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject