Every part of this was so unique, and I loved it. Part of the enjoyment came from working out and being surprised by the times in their life that you chose to include here.
This part of the story is also so bittersweet compared to the first. As there is always some element of pain and tragedy lingering within each moment, after the blissful peace of life in
Valinor starts cracking.
---
“He was angry about the letter from
Manwë and hurt with Haru–”
At this point, I realised they were in Formenos. And I know how Tyelko struggled there, his relationships with his family crumbling, and his and
Fëanor's personalities making it easy for them to clash. 😞
And he finally turned to face him. Curvo cursed under his breath when he saw the tear streaked face and red eyes fuming with hurt and rage.
“He was angry about the letter from Manwë and hurt with Haru–”
The voice interrupting him was quiet and if he wasn't monitoring Tyelko's every movement, he might have missed it.
“He's always angry at something, Curvo, yet he never lashes out at you because of it.”
I liked this. Curvo is indeed very attentive to every detail, especially when it involves something or someone he really cares about.
“You had promised not to hold his favoritism against me.”
“And you swore you'd not make excuses for his every behavior anymore, yet here we are.”
You do not know him like I do, he almost said, but stopped the words right before they left his mouth.
It is so hard for them to not fall back on their natural impulses during this time. It is one of the rare moments where Tyelko & Curvo's differences are a weakness rather than a strength in their relationship.
Home. Where was it, Curvo wondered.
This line hit hard for me personally.
It's also definitely something Curvo would be wondering and perhaps struggling with. He has his childhood home in the
house of Fëanor. He has his own house away from the
city, built with the help of Tancaquárë's family. And there is Formenos, his father's
fortress/second home and now place of exile. He chose to go with his father, so is this his new home too?
“I came along with him, with you, out of love and devotion, not to become a target he can pour out all his frustration on.
I've tolerated all his scathing remarks and paranoid glances because I knew he was not in a good position, with his own wife and kin deserting him and planning his downfall, but if me being his son is not enough to guarantee my loyalty to him, then I don't know what to do.”
I felt and understood Tyelko's frustration so keenly here.
“Are you going to leave, then?”
His nonchalance was a poor cover for the bleeding heart inside his chest.
I think you captured Curvo's feelings during this time very accurately. 🥺😞
He loves his father and his brother, and hates to see them upset. He feels very helpless when they clash with each other, as he understands them both, and cannot truly side with one over the other. And as strong as Curvo's bond with Fëanor might be, if Tyelko leaves, there will be a Tyelko-shaped hole in his heart, which nothing and no-one else can fill, as they are not him, and could never replace him. Each person Curvo loves is irreplaceable, really.
“Come inside, Curvo. It's cold.”
It was now that he could focus on it.
Anca took his hand and led him inside and down the hall towards their own chambers.
Like a puppet she steered him out of his robes and into a nightgown and then, under the covers.
I like how it was Anca who brought Curvo back inside. She's probably the only one who he would accept help from at this time. He'd retreat from anyone else with irritable hurt or quiet coldness, wanting to be left alone and not wanting any sympathy or attempt to comfort him.
“I broke my word. I'm sorry we couldn't have cake this year, little one.”
This reminded me of
Celegorm calling
Curufin 'little one' in TWC. 🥺
And all Curvo could think about was how the bond he had with his brother was becoming as irreparable as the cake smashed on the kitchen floor by his father.
And now we know what happened during the conflict, and why there is to be no cake this year. Poor Tyelko.
---
“This is pure madness.”
“I think we already established just how insane our uncle was when he crossed the Ice, Curvo.”
I assume this refers to
Fingolfin pondering an assault upon
Angband instead of merely continuing the Siege. (And no one was eager to join him, and
Morgoth ended up being
the one to attack first in the
Dagor Bragollach later on.)
It kind of reminded me of the artist eilian's insane Fingolfin, lol.
Fëanor to the orcs: have ye seen my Silmarils?
[many years later]
Fingolfin to the orcs: have ye seen my BROTHER?
*Nothing can stop him*
www.deviantart.com
Something was being held in front of him. He looked down to find a cup of steaming tea held in his brother’s grip, waiting for him to notice it.
The sweet and nutty aroma of the tea reached his nose, and he found himself smiling despite everything. How Celegorm had come to find this tea so far north and in this weather was beyond him.
It had been a gift from
Felagund when Curufin had come to try it at first. It was safe to say that Celegorm did not get to take more than a few cups here and there from a gift they had meant to share. His brother had only smiled fondly at him every time he brought up the prospect of convincing their cousin to send them more, though. He preferred his sweet and fresh fruity drinks or his hot cocoa to the herbal concoctions Curufin favored.
Aww. Curufin found a new favourite drink. 🥺 And Celegorm loves to see it (and finds it adorable lol).
Celegorm huffed when Curufin merely sipped and did not respond, before placing his cut of carrot cake on the windowsill.
“Forget what is to come, brother. Enjoy your night while you can. And don't fill your stomach with that tea. I laboured for this cake all day. Sorry we could not have ginger this year. It's…I tried to, but it's hard to grow here.”
Curufin couldn't help noticing the note of sadness. He frowned before putting down his empty cup and picking up the plate of cake. He walked away from the window, joining his brother on the couch.
Carrot cake! ✨✨
And Celegorm is disappointed that he couldn't make his favourite cake with ginger in it. It's ok bro! I like this one too. 🥺
Celegorm did not look away from a burn mark on his hand. It was small, so likely from his earlier adventures in the kitchen rather than patrols and battle.
This reminded me of your own occasional mishaps in the kitchen. 🫢🤭
Celegorm took his sweet time to respond. He ignored him at first, until Curufin rolled his eyes and poked his arm with his frosting covered fork. Celegorm cursed and patted his sleeve clean and finally, he turned to look at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Brat. What do you want?”
Curufin grinned and held up his plate.
“Cake?”
Lol. 😂 No-one is safe from getting the icing of Curvo's cake all over them. (Like tiny Tyelpë did to Curvo in the first part of the story!)
Love to see cheeky Curvo. :3
---
Celegorm could have cried right then and there.
He looked at the mess his batter had made on the floor. The batter he had laboured on for hours, which now called the floor of royal kitchens of
Nargothrond home.
Poor Tyelko. 🥺
The same one which should have been prepared to go into the oven now because Celegorm could not possibly have more time to make another batch. Not with this leg. He looked down at his bandaged thigh. Blood was slowly soaking the fabric red, the smell mixing with the scent of ginger from the cake.
The ginger which had been hard to find, and despite having enough left, Celegorm couldn't help but mourn its loss. He had meant to dry and keep the rest for next year, and now his brother wouldn't be getting his favorite pastry for his Begotten day two years in a row.
And the problem is revealed to be even worse with these further details! 🥲
The disastrous loss of their home in Himlad is so recent too, given Celegorm's state. And he still wants to make his bro happy, or at least bring him a bit of cheer. 🥺
Celegorm exhaled sharply before running a hand on his face and finally glancing up.
“It's his begotten-day and I always make his cake for him. It has been like so since we were mere tweens in…in
the blessed lands. I know it might sound stupid, but it didn't quite feel right to leave the responsibility to someone else.
Ingoldo was gracious enough to offer his servants and their service in making him one and throwing him a banquet, but you know your father. Huge gatherings are never something he enjoys.”
Attentive and considerate bro. But this tradition is important to Celegorm too. When he makes the cake for Curufin, he feels the love just as Curufin does. It's why it doesn't feel right to leave it to someone else.
Celebrimbor sighed and reached for his hand. Celegorm held his nephew's palm on his own. He frowned. When did Celebrimbor's hands outgrew his own? His used to be so small, no bigger than a gemstone.
That imagery of lil Tyelpë's hands being no bigger than a gemstone was so sweet. 🥺 And fitting, given that he and his father are smiths and makers of jewellery.
“Very well then. For old time's sake. How about we make this one together? And by that I mean that I will listen to your directions and do it myself. You will not be moving from your seat. And I will escort you straight to the healing
halls afterwards.”
Celegorm looked up at him, surprise clouding his face, which slowly morphed into a fond smile.
“You… remember?”
Celebrimbor grinned.
“How could I forget? I still remember Atya's unimpressed face when he realized I had gotten icing all over his favorite nightshirt.”
“Very well then. Let's see how much you recall from all that I did that night.”
And Celebrimbor remembers that moment! 🥹😂
---
“Curvo?”
Someone called from behind him. He couldn't quite bring himself to turn around and find their identity.
A second passed. And then, another.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Curufin looked up, and his bloodshot eyes found those of his silver brother's.
There are many points in time after their departure from Nargothrond where Curufin would be feeling this way. I wondered which of those it would be.
Celegorm did not look any better. The thought, which often made him sad and unsettled, now brought him some measure of comfort.
Indeed. I would say both Curvo and Tyelko feel more at ease when they're both in a similar bad place, as they can take comfort in each other (even if their sources of pain are somewhat different). If one of them is doing notably worse, it really pains and stresses the other, especially if there's not much they can do to help.
The room was dark, with faint rays of moonlight seeping through the tightly drawn curtains.
Yet, it took Curufin's numb mind an embarrassingly long time to figure out what it was.
A sad piece of sponge cake, burnt at
places and looking as sorrowful as Curufin felt.
Fitting. Perhaps not something his brother had intended, but Curufin was sure he would have lost it if he had brought him something perfect and beautiful, like the last piece of ginger cake Curufin ever had. The one his son had made.
Yep. Curufin's feelings here are spot on. The sad burnt plain sponge cake is most fitting for this occasion.
His son is no longer here. 🥲
The son he was now completely sure did not walk these lands with him anymore.
Oh. They're in Amon Ereb, after receiving the news of Nargothrond's destruction. So after the Nargothrond incident,
and the Unnumbered Tears disaster. Oof. 😖😞 Nobody would be feeling like celebrating anything during this time, that's for sure.
His brother seemed to have noticed his lost eyes, for he took pity on him.
“I…I've heard news of the last ship leaving the shores for the Isle of Balar. If…if they have survived, they will be there. Whatever we will find there, it can be the closure we both seek. Come now, brother. Pack lightly. We need all the secrecy we need for this journey.”
Curufin didn't need to be told twice.
The cake remained forgotten by the maids to find, and by then, even the dust of their
horses had settled by the road.
...
Oh...! 😮
...I like this take on the wanderings of the
sons of Fëanor before the ruin of
Doriath. 🥲
“There. There's a crowd. I recognize some of my captains.”
So did Curufin. The swell of people was larger than he had expected, and instead of the ragtag group of survivors they had expected, they were dressed in warm winter clothes, each carrying loads of belongings which were being moved to the
ships.
Yes,
ships. Multiple. Celegorm's information was off, and Curufin had never been more grateful.
All signs spoke of a well timed desertion. It spoke of his son's wisdom.
It spoke of his and his nephew's survival.
🥺 🩶
I could easily picture everything in this scene. So vivid, the crowd of people, and the muffled hum of noise of such a large crowd trying to keep moving and board the ships efficiently. The brothers' relief is so tangible here. And bittersweet, for they will never reveal themselves. They are just outside observers, who arrived unnoticed and will leave again unrecognised. Their farewells have already been said long ago. It's almost like they're ghosts already, simply watching, simply curious about the fate of their sons, making sure they're alright, though there's nothing more they can do.
Curufin could barely keep his form hidden among the branches of the bushes they hid behind.
“You thinking what I'm thinking?”
“I'm not a mind reader, Tyelko.”
A finger poked his ribs painfully, yet he couldn't help the gleeful grin lighting up his face.
“I can sing us a disguise. We can go there. We can see them for ourselves. Do you want to?”
Curufin's guts felt like it could burst from the excitement.
And yet, it is an unexpected light in the darkness. The brothers feel
excited and
glad, for the first time in who knows how long. They are unburdened for this brief time, almost as if a part of them is escaping with the ones they hold dear.
Same with little Darthion. Would he even remember them? His brother had cared for the little one like he was his own, but he had been forced to leave him behind in Nargothrond when they were exiled.
He's there too! 🥺
And Celegorm hummed a tune. Curufin felt nothing, but a slight tingling all over his body. Celegorm passed him a small seeing glass.
He searched for the familiar sight of ebony curls and light silver eyes, but found straight brown hair and dark grey orbs. Colorings of dark
elves.
He looked at his brother who resembled him with the uncanniness of someone who was his kin. Except the Celegorm's hair and eyes were slightly lighter.
The young green
elf who was his brother smiled. The dimples were gone.
Everything felt surreal, but Curufin did not waste the time to untangle the mess of his feelings.
He followed his brother. They took the treeline towards the deck and soon, the crowd of the
Noldor swallowed them.
Exactly, Curufin, this whole scene has kind of a surreal feeling to it! 😂
Celegorm disguising them reinforces the impression of them not truly being there, of being ghostly outside observers. They do not even look like themselves, so there is no chance they will be recognised. To the rest of the world,
Curufin and Celegorm are simply not there.
“Quicker! Lord
Círdan and his people have been gracious enough to lend us their ships. We should not put his sailors in danger and they will be if we tarry any longer.
I understand your weariness, good people, but it shall not be longer. Our king rules the Isles and there, we shall be safe. Just a little longer, and we will reach safety. The waters of Lord
Ulmo will be our protection.”
Someone spoke. His voice carried among the crowd, and it gave them life. The voice was dear. Curufin had been there when it was naught but mewls and cries of a newborn. He had been there when the awkwardness of youth caught it. And he had been there when it became a rich sound which moved hearts.
He would have collapsed then and there if he was not being squished by the force of the crowd.
He turned around. Celebrimbor stood there on top of a carriage of cargo. He wore his crown but no other jewels. His cloak was the one his Uncle Celegorm had gifted him. Dark fur of
wolves and rich velvet. He looked every bit of the prince he was. The leader he had become.
Honestly, this moment was just... magnificent. And just as vivid as the rest. I was surprised and proud to see Celebrimbor like that too! The responsibility of leading the remainder of his people has changed him. But it does suit him in a way, even though at heart he is first and foremost a craftsman.
By his side stood a shy youth. His brown curls moved with the wind. He, too, wore a circlet of silver and his adopted father's blue gems. The one Curufin had fashioned for him, resized to fit his head for he had grown indeed. Almost at his majority.
I really liked that both he and Celebrimbor were wearing gifts from their Fëanorian family. They are not hiding where they came from, or who they love still, despite all that has happened since.
His brother clung to him for support, eyes glued to the young princeling by Celebrimbor's side.
“He's grown…”
“He has…”
“I…I think they will be fine. Don't you think so?”
Curufin put a hand on his beating heart, and held it out in farewell as the young
men climbed down the cargo and boarded the largest of the ships.
“They will be.”
Such a beautiful ending. A
happy ending, and the only sort of happy ending you could give to Curufin and Celegorm in their lives in
Beleriand.
I loved the second half of the story just as much as the first, bro, although it had a different feel to it. You included so many meaningful things. Thank you for writing it.
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