Chapter Text
- From how our noble princess slammed the doors to her chamber and from your split lip, I take it the date hasn’t worked? – asked Curufin, entering the room, smirking.
Celegorm threw a cup of wine at him and Curufin dodged swiftly, the vessel splattered against the wall.
- My second guess was to be orcs’ ambush but I see I was right at the beginning.
Celegorm looked around for some alcohol left and settled for drinking straight from the bottle, snapping his fingers at the scared servant to bring him more wine.
- If only your clever eyes and keen mind would ever tell you when your brother prefers to be in a nice company of hunters or a flask instead of your scathing remarks’.
Ignoring his dark stare, Curufin continued with his lecture.
- And what did you expect? You do courtship as if you were hunting. You treat her like a wild game in the forest; like you’re the hunter and she was the prey and all the thing was about chasing and capturing her.
- What’s wrong with that? – asked Celegorm, drunk and disarmingly honest.
Curufin put a palm to his temples, rubbing them gently.
- Brother, you never cease to surprise me with the level of your stupidity.
Celegorm put the flask forcefully on the table, angry once more.
- Well, forgive me if I won’t listen to the advices in matters of heart from someone who was unable to convince his own wife to follow him into Beleriand!
Curufin’s mouth pressed into a thin line at his older brother’s comment. Without another word he walked out of the chamber. Celegorm didn’t spare him a glance, turning around to the servant’s door.
- Where on Angband is that wine?!
At the same time Lúthien sat cuddled on the floor in her room, stroking the silk fur of Huan, lying at her feet.
She understood how Celegorm’s wildness might appeal to some women. He undeniably had the trait that some people called animal magnetism. The prince was very handsome too, his smile was charming, attitude lively. But his savageness disturbed her. He was wild as a beast from the woods, too bold, too daring in some aspects.
She preferred him than his brother though. Curufin had some dark side to himself. Despite his perfect manners, his always composed and polite attitude, there was something malicious in him. Both brothers have darkness to them, something, probably the Oath clinging to them as a shadow, caricaturing their deeds. But Celegorm’s wicked side was fully visible, in a cruel glint in his eyes as he shot the prey; in a joy with which he punched those who dared to cross him; he was openly violent and unrestricted. One knew what to expect from him.
His brother, though, kept his own demons trapped inside and Lúthien couldn’t fathom them as well as she’d like. And she was good at judging people, having some of her mother’s abilities to read their intentions but Curufin remained a puzzle to her. He guarded himself too well. It was impossible to read his soul.
That night she dreamed a dream of dungeon, of fangs and claws and gleaming eyes in the dark. No sound reached the pits other than screams and chains clinking. She woke up before dawn, scared and sweated and though she could not recall the images from her sleep, the feeling of despair and feebleness had remained.