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Fic - A Mighty Gift - Curufin/Telchar, Celegorm, Huan (PG-13) 1/1
Title: A Mighty Gift
Author: phyncke
Character(s): Curufin/Telchar, Celegorm, Huan
Beta: Aglarien (with help from Keiliss too)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Feedback: Much appreciated.
Summary: Curufin seeks to become the apprentice of Telchar, the skilled dwarf smith and is given a mighty gift.
Note: elf-dwarf relationship
For: Slashy Valentine 2016
---
Curufin leaned over the table to his elder brother and traveling companion, whispering furiously in Quenya so that the dwarves present could not understand him.
“Brother, could you not have left the hound in your room? He is making the other guests nervous.” Celegorm had the gall to looked annoyed at his sibling and answered in a barely muted tone. “Calm yourself, Curvo. You know that Huan cannot be locked in a confined space alone. He is fine there and I will get him a bone from the kitchen and all will be well. Do not worry overmuch.”
Huan dropped his regal head on a very large paw and let out a bored huffle. He preferred the hunt and the chase of game to the social niceties that the elves had to follow since coming to Nogrod. These dwarves were touchy folk and gave him sidelong glances whenever he entered a room.
“I am not worrying without reason. Your dog is as large as a horse and could consume a dwarf in one mouthful!”
“But he would eat neither a dwarf nor an elf, nor a man for that matter. You are going completely overboard. Have some more wine to calm your nerves.”
Curufin did as his brother suggested and poured himself some more strong, red dwarven wine, gulping down the glass in one go. Celegorm was irksome when it came to that dog, and that was just the way it was, gift from a god so he was. He topped up his glass one more time and sat back in his chair glowering into the rim.
---
Months earlier….
They had been in Nogrod, the dwarvish city in the Blue Mountains for some months now. Curufin had wanted to learn under the tutelage of the great smith master Telchar, student of Gamil Zirak, Firebeard of much fame. Celegorm always traveled with him, the hound with them as well, so their motley crew was met with some distrust as they came to the grand gates of the dwarrow realm.
They had been greeted by an armed party of Firebeard dwarves and escorted into the dwarf colony. These naugrim had traded with elves before and were familiar with Thingol’s lands but still met them gruff disdain and suspicion. It did not help that they were accompanied by the most enormous dog in all of Arda. Huan made the dwarves understandably nervous, much as Celegorm explained that he would not harm them. Even with the Noldor elf’s assurances, they gave the hound a wide berth.
They were led past vast hallways and enormous pillars and Curufin gazed in wonderment at the skill of dwarf masons. Such detail and scale with the stone. He knew that they had equal skills in metals, which was why he had come. He had spent much time in his childhood learning smith craft from his father, Fëanor, and wished to apprentice for a time with the greatest of the dwarrow smiths in Middle Earth.
They were taken to a chamber off of the main corridor where they were made to wait for quite a long time after having stated their business. They were given ale to drink along with some fine cheeses and fresh made bread along with other dwarvish foods that they did not know the name of. All of it was good and hearty and they ate their fill.
After some time, Curufin walked the room and examined the fine inlaidmetal work and detailing throughout. It was some of the finest he had seen. All of the door handles were very ornate and, down to the curtain rods and knobs, all finely cast from shining metals. It was all excellent work, for the Firebeard dwarrows were known for their skill in ironwork and work with precious metals.
Finally, the door to the chamber opened and a stalky dark-bearded dwarf (1) with a long braid strolled in. He must have come straight from the forge as he wore a leather apron, and he looked upon them with surprise and some hesitation. He cast sidelong glances at Huan curled on the carpet as he walked to a raised seat. His hazel eyes were of an arresting color, brown at some cast of the light and then in the reflection of the fire they looked more molten gold.
Once he sat down, Telchar got right to the heart of the matter.
“What does a Noldor elf want with this dwarf of Nogrod? Unless you have come here to trade or barter?” Curufin leaned forward and sincerely explained who he was and why he was interested in meeting. He mentioned his father and that he had been schooled in smith craft under the greatest elven smiths who had ever lived, but there was much to learn from the dwarves.
Telchar interrupted, “And you feel that you could learn more from the likes of me?”
Curufin assured him that he had much to learn and that he would be a good student for as long as he would have him.
Celegorm listened to this all in silence and ate some of the food on the table and drank some of the full bodied ale that they had been served. He had known of this plan of Curufin’s and planned to stay with his brother for the duration, perhaps hunting with Huan in the lands around the dwarvish settlement. He did not know if this Telchar would even accept his brother so he prepared to console him if his suit were rejected. It seemed a half cooked scheme to him but that is what they did for each other as brothers, backed each other up.
Telchar looked as though he were mulling it over. He sat back on the ornate, raised seat looking down at the elves, even though they were much taller than he was. His golden hazel eyes sparkled in the firelight with something akin to amusement. “This is not a decision to be made lightly. You are an elf, after all. You will stay here a few days and I will make up my mind. I would like to see if you have any skill in the craft or if that was all made up.” Curufin nodded at that and had hope. His proposal had not been refused outright so there was a chance he would be accepted.
“Thank you, I appreciate your consideration, Lord Telchar.” “Well, it will come to nothing if it comes to that.” Telchar got up and asked as if a passing question, “That hound does not eat dwarves, does it?”
He skirted around the dog as he walked to the door and Celegorm replied, “Huan does not eat people in any form. He hunts game and animals.”
“Well there’s plenty of that in the Blue Mountains. Good hunting around here. I will see you at dinner this evening.”
And with that he left the room, leaving them to think over what had been said and think they did.
Before too long they were taken to a suit of rooms further into the mines and they settled in for the night. Curufin could not help hoping that he had a chance to study with the great dwarf smith Telchar, and when he went to sleep that night, he dreamt of the golden eyes that had held his gaze so true.
---
Days passed into weeks and then into months. It was never stated that Curufin would stay, but the two started working together at the forge. He never received formal acceptance of his apprenticeship with Telchar, but was not asked to leave either. So there was just a comfortable companionship of craftsman doing as they would and learning from each other.
Curufin was given all he would need to work – a leather apron that fit him, tools and his own station at the Firebeard forge.
Celegorm and Huan roamed far and wide over the Blue Mountains hunting and foraging and doing as they were wont to do, enjoying the great outdoors and tracking the woodland creatures. They returned now and again to Nogrod, bringing fresh meats to the kitchen, and for that the dwarves were grateful. The Firebeard dwarves were like any of the Naugrim; they enjoyed good food and a hearty table for their sustenance. While the great hound made them nervous, they could see the value in his skill at the hunt.
---
Telchar pumped the bellows and worked the forge as Curufin finished a blade and started on the quenching (2) of the piece. His tutor had taught him the importance of this part of process to the longevity of the blade and its endurance, along with tempering. He had learned some of this from his father, Fëanor, but he fine-tuned his knowledge now and it became second nature.
He spent every waking moment with the dwarf and they developed a camaraderie that was very close. They ate most meals together and ended up talking long into the night. Their conversations roamed over a variety of topics from childhood to philosophy to shared experiences against the evils in Arda. They found that they had a lot in common, even though they were of different races. It disproved the theory that elves and dwarves could not get along.
One day, Telchar was showing him how to inlay gems on a knife and their hands brushed. Curufin felt something stir in him. It was not as though they had not touched before, but this was the first time he had noticed a corresponding feeling or acknowledged it. It made him blush, but the heat of the room could be an explanation for that. The forge was going at full tilt and the work room was quite warm.
The dwarf was speaking but Curufin heard him as though he was speaking under water. The words were muted and hard to distinguish, almost muffled. Elves had keen hearing but this was something different altogether. It was a fault in his ears or something. He did not rightly know, but he could only agree when he was asked if he understood the procedure they had just gone over, and prayed they would go over it again at some point. Curufin had never found himself so discomposed. It was so odd for a son of Fëanor to be so put out. He could not explain it.
The moment passed and they finished the blade before stopping to have some ale. They usually built up a thirst working on the forge and slaked it with some fine dwarven ale made right there in Nogrod. The Firebeard dwarrows traded with other folk for grain and barley and were well supplied with the grain to make the libation. They were not farmers, living under ground as they did, and had to trade for their food stuffs and other luxuries. They formed relationships with men and elves and bartered finely made weapons, gems and crafted works for the things that they needed.
Today they discussed the finer points of language and Curufin wondered aloud at the paranoid secrecy of the Naugrim when it came to their language and why it was that they would not share their words and customs with other peoples.
“We keep to our own, Curufin. It is just our way. We do not want others to know too much of us and thus make us vulnerable from the outside. This sharing that you speak of, it is not the Firebeard or dwarvish way. We speak the common language and thus our own is not known.”
Curufin leaned back against the wall and propped his knee up.
“Then I will never truly know you. We will always be but cold acquaintances in this world.”
“Dorok, Curufin.” Telchar clasped his hand firmly.
The elf inclined his head, “What does that mean?”
“That word means friendship. We are friends and not cold acquaintances. Never that.”
---
“The-stars-are-beautiful.” Curufin said haltingly in Khuzdûl practicing his phrasing while pounding out a new sword.
“Zinlaz is stars.”
“Zinlaz-zinlaz-zinlaz…” the elf said as he rhythmically pounded the steel.
“Better.”
“My-eyes-are-blue,” Curufin tried.
“Blue is halk but yours are really grey,” Telchar corrected smiling.
“You noticed?”
“I miss nothing.” The dwarf laughed. “I am very observant.”
“This-is-a-difficult-language!”
“Language is aglametk… a spoken language,” Telchar explained.
“Aglametk…aglametk…aglametk.” Curufin chanted to try and commit the word to his memory.
Curufin enjoyed the guttural, glottal sounds of the language. It was so different than elvish which seemed so boring to him in its elegance now. At times it felt like he was shouting vulgarities but it was just the harshness of the sounds together. Quenya sounded so soothing while Khuzdûl was a jumble of consonants put together. It sounded best said loud in an almost shout. One could not whisper the dwarfish language or murmur. You had to really say it vehemently and with emphasis. He liked that aspect of the tongue. It was very visceral.
Telchar spoke to him in the dwarfish language and would translate word-for-word and in this way Curufin could expand his vocabulary. He also spoke the language when they were alone. It was their secret that he learned it, so none of the other Firebeards would know of Telchar passing on this knowledge to the elf. This was as much to protect the dwarf as to protect the Fëanorian.
It got to the point where they could have entire conversations in Khuzdûl without pause, and Curufin was even proficient in cussing. He loved swearing in dwarfish and found the words very expressive.
---
Telchar felt the heat of the fire on his face as he leaned over the blade. He always felt it in his heart when he was making something important. This blade would go forth into the world and perform important feats. He knew not what Angrist3 would accomplish, for he could not tell the future, but the deeds would be of import in the world to both elf and man alike. He went into a trance-like state as he shaped the metal, tempering the steel slowly and surely. He imbued the blade with properties and powers that no other blade could or would have – the power to cut through iron. This would be useful to the one who carried it and make the wielder deadly in battle. He knew who he would give the blade to but not where it would ultimately end up. Swords had a life of their own and seemed to choose their owners. Telchar did not believe in luck or circumstance. He believed in fate.
---
Curufin waited in Telchar’s chamber. He had lit candles around the room and then went to lounge lazily on the coverlet. This was the first time he had been in the dwarf’s private rooms and he looked around to see what he could learn of Telchar from his surroundings. The walls were shrouded in velvet fabric and ornate wall hangings, and the stone floor was covered with exotic carpets and warm furs. Telchar definitely liked his luxuries and comforts. He saw half finished projects on top of a trunk along with an assortment of precious gems, emeralds and rubies.
The elf lounged for a while and soon found he was very tired. Working on the forge all day was back breaking work so he thought he might just snooze for a little while. There was no harm in that, after all. He let his thoughts and worries float away into reverie and soon his dreams took over.
---
Telchar entered the chamber and was so preoccupied he did not notice the Elf lying on his bed deep in slumber. Elves do not close their eyes when they sleep. Their eyes remain open though they do not really see while they are in reverie.
He puttered around the room, removing his fur cloak, belt and shirt. He was too tired to notice the candles lit around the room and the fire in the grate. He usually had to tend to those upon arriving. He had been working on Angrist late each night after he left Curufin and it was exhausting. He was pouring much of himself into the work.
He sat on the bed to remove his boots, pulling them off and letting them thud on the carpeted floor, one, then two. He lay back on the coverlet and that was when he noticed the Noldor elf in repose.
“My my, what have we here?”
Telchar turned on his side facing Curufin and watched the elf’s chest move up and down with his breathing. Dwarves had an appreciation for beauty, both in the making of beautiful objects and in objective beauty. The elf had perfect skin, long flowing dark hair and slate grey eyes. His features combined to an aesthetic symmetry that was lovely. The craftsman could appreciate that, and reached to smooth back some errant hair that had fallen on his friend’s forehead. Curufin stirred under his touch and murmured. “You are here at last. Where have you been?”
“Hard at work. You will see tomorrow what I have been working on,” Telchar said cryptically.
Curufin laughed. “At the feast. Huan has hunted some great game for us all to eat and we shall eat well. Will you not tell me what you have made?”
“And ruin the surprise?” the dwarf teased. “Not a chance.”
The elf pretended to pout which made Telchar long to kiss his full lips. He looked at Curufin’s mouth with longing and without thinking, leaned forward to press their lips together. He felt Curufin’s sigh expel against his mouth and deepened the kiss. A hand massaged his pectoral muscle and Curufin turned to face him on the bed. Their legs entwined, Telchar’s feet reached to the middle of the Noldor’s calves. He rubbed his toes against the elf’s leggings there and their pelvises came into contact.
Curufin reached up to run his hands through the dwarf’s long dark hair and hummed against his lips. He paused to say, “I would like to stay here tonight, if that is alright with you.”
“More than alright, Curvo.”
Telchar knew that there was an attraction between them, both of the mind and of the body. They had mutual interests and skills. They even laughed together which was highly unusual for an elf and a dwarf to do. He sighed happily and leaned in for another kiss.
They continued along with their amorous pursuits, finding little rest that night.
---
Curufin took another gulp of his wine and whispered to Celegorm, “Go get that dog a bone to keep him occupied, Celegorm. He will be a nuisance before too long and ruin this whole affair.” He was still thinking about what had happened between himself and Telchar last night and did not want today’s feast wrecked by a restless Huan.
“Alright, alright!” Celegorm got up from his chair with a huff and strode out to the kitchens. He would have no rest until he did as Curufin said and it would make Huan happy to have a big juicy bone.
Curufin decided to slow down on his drinking and took a glass of water. It would not do to pass out at the feast from all this very strong dwarvish wine. He sipped some cool, clear water from a goblet and sat back. Telchar was not present yet and the food was being placed on the table. The elf was nervous to see him again after their night together and wondered what gift the dwarf had in store. Perhaps it was the jeweled dagger they had been working on together. That would be a valuable gift with all the gems inlaid in the hilt. That must be it. He felt bad as he had not made anything for Telchar but he was not the host. What was custom in this case? He did not know. He stared into his cup and frowned.
“Why so glum, Curvo? This is a happy occasion. I don’t like to see that sad expression on your face. Drink some more wine!”
Telchar perched in Celegorm’s chair and his golden eyes were full of mirth. He briefly squeezed the elf’s hand under the table, but not so anyone could see.
“I was just thinking that I had not made you a gift.”
“Ach. There is no need for that. It is more appropriate that I give you something. Fear not!”
“I suppose.”
The dwarf poured himself a glass of wine and slugged it back quickly.
“I cannot tarry here. I must sit at the head of the table with others of my order. I will see you later.”
He grasped Curufin’s hand again and rubbed his thumb over this smooth palm.
Others would not understand their relationship so they had to keep it secret from everyone. Curufin was not sure that Celegorm would understand so he dare not tell him either.
Telchar rose and smiled down at his lover, placing a hand on his shoulder. He moved past him and went to the front of the room to sit at the head of the table. Celegorm returned to the banquet hall with a large, meaty leg bone on a large pewter platter. As he got closer to Huan, the dog’s tale thumped on the ground and he salivated at the sight of the delicious treat. “Here you go, boy. This should keep you busy for a while.” The elf then ambled back to his seat next to Curufin.
---
The rest of the banquet was pretty much a blur to Curufin. He ate the succulent meats and root vegetables that were served in abundance. He drank wine in copious amounts as his glass was refilled again and again by his brother. He spoke when spoken to and answered any number of questions about his apprenticeship with Telchar and the like.
Finally, it came to the presentation of Telchar’s gift. Kind words of tribute were spoken and much was made of the new alliance between the dwarves of Nogrod and the elves of their region. The Firebeard smith moved to the dais and raised something covered in a velvet cloth. It was too big to be a dagger and why would they need to present a dagger at a banquet at any rate?
“This is Angrist,” Telchar announced. “One of my finest swords ever made. She can cut through iron like it is butter. That is no lie. I give her to you, Curufin the Elfsmith. For you are worthy.”
He did not feel worthy but he made his legs move and walk to Telchar to receive this mighty gift.
Telchar handed him the blade and Curufin said,
“I thank you, Telchar of the Firebeards. I hope to always be worthy of such a gift.”
“May you always be so.”
Curufin nodded and bowed his head and the crowd gathered roared their approval. He accepted the sword feeling a mixture of emotions; pride at having received such a wonderful blade and nervousness at feeling that it was not deserved. He mostly worried that he could not live up to the glory inherent in owning such a weapon. As he held Angrist there, he smiled and thanked Telchar and the dwarves of Nogrod but could not help but feel some sense of foreboding.
---
Later as they lay in bed together, bodies entwined, Curufin murmured against Telchar’s chest,
“I am not worthy of your mighty gift.”
“You may not feel so, but it may make you so. The right instrument has a way of improving one’s outlook.”
Curufin sighed and lay there thinking, hoping that Telchar was right.
---
Footnotes:
(1) Picture of Telchar as I imagine him - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/378935756120091685/
(2) Quenching hardens the metal so it holds an edge longer but this also makes it very brittle. To restore some ductility and durability the sword is tempered. With swords, due to their length, the challenge is greater as in a typical quenching it is possible to bend or warp the blade if it is not introduced to the quenchant smoothly and evenly. (Wikipedia)
(3) Curufin carried Angrist at his side unsheathed for many years. The sword served him well in many battles and he carried it with pride.
When their lands were over run by Morgoth’s forces in the Dagor Bragollach, he and Celegorm travelled to Nargothrond which was under the rule of their cousin Finrod. There they fomented discord and rumor, causing their cousin to lose much of the support of his people. When Beren called upon Fingon to fulfill his oath, he had little support from the populace of Nargothrond, and went off with the man and very few of his warriors to his own death.
Celegorm lusted after the beauty of Luthien, and the brothers took her captive back to Nargothrond. Huan the hound helped Luthien escape and go find Beren. In this incident Beren wrested the sword, Angrist, from Curufin as their villainy became apparent. The mortal then used the sword to cut a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. When trying to loose a second gem, the blade broke from the force of it.
Curufin and Celegorm both died during the sack of Doriath, so known as the Second Kinslaying, in which they attempted to take a Silmaril by force from Dior the Beautiful.
Author: phyncke
Character(s): Curufin/Telchar, Celegorm, Huan
Beta: Aglarien (with help from Keiliss too)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Feedback: Much appreciated.
Summary: Curufin seeks to become the apprentice of Telchar, the skilled dwarf smith and is given a mighty gift.
Note: elf-dwarf relationship
For: Slashy Valentine 2016
---
Curufin leaned over the table to his elder brother and traveling companion, whispering furiously in Quenya so that the dwarves present could not understand him.
“Brother, could you not have left the hound in your room? He is making the other guests nervous.” Celegorm had the gall to looked annoyed at his sibling and answered in a barely muted tone. “Calm yourself, Curvo. You know that Huan cannot be locked in a confined space alone. He is fine there and I will get him a bone from the kitchen and all will be well. Do not worry overmuch.”
Huan dropped his regal head on a very large paw and let out a bored huffle. He preferred the hunt and the chase of game to the social niceties that the elves had to follow since coming to Nogrod. These dwarves were touchy folk and gave him sidelong glances whenever he entered a room.
“I am not worrying without reason. Your dog is as large as a horse and could consume a dwarf in one mouthful!”
“But he would eat neither a dwarf nor an elf, nor a man for that matter. You are going completely overboard. Have some more wine to calm your nerves.”
Curufin did as his brother suggested and poured himself some more strong, red dwarven wine, gulping down the glass in one go. Celegorm was irksome when it came to that dog, and that was just the way it was, gift from a god so he was. He topped up his glass one more time and sat back in his chair glowering into the rim.
---
Months earlier….
They had been in Nogrod, the dwarvish city in the Blue Mountains for some months now. Curufin had wanted to learn under the tutelage of the great smith master Telchar, student of Gamil Zirak, Firebeard of much fame. Celegorm always traveled with him, the hound with them as well, so their motley crew was met with some distrust as they came to the grand gates of the dwarrow realm.
They had been greeted by an armed party of Firebeard dwarves and escorted into the dwarf colony. These naugrim had traded with elves before and were familiar with Thingol’s lands but still met them gruff disdain and suspicion. It did not help that they were accompanied by the most enormous dog in all of Arda. Huan made the dwarves understandably nervous, much as Celegorm explained that he would not harm them. Even with the Noldor elf’s assurances, they gave the hound a wide berth.
They were led past vast hallways and enormous pillars and Curufin gazed in wonderment at the skill of dwarf masons. Such detail and scale with the stone. He knew that they had equal skills in metals, which was why he had come. He had spent much time in his childhood learning smith craft from his father, Fëanor, and wished to apprentice for a time with the greatest of the dwarrow smiths in Middle Earth.
They were taken to a chamber off of the main corridor where they were made to wait for quite a long time after having stated their business. They were given ale to drink along with some fine cheeses and fresh made bread along with other dwarvish foods that they did not know the name of. All of it was good and hearty and they ate their fill.
After some time, Curufin walked the room and examined the fine inlaidmetal work and detailing throughout. It was some of the finest he had seen. All of the door handles were very ornate and, down to the curtain rods and knobs, all finely cast from shining metals. It was all excellent work, for the Firebeard dwarrows were known for their skill in ironwork and work with precious metals.
Finally, the door to the chamber opened and a stalky dark-bearded dwarf (1) with a long braid strolled in. He must have come straight from the forge as he wore a leather apron, and he looked upon them with surprise and some hesitation. He cast sidelong glances at Huan curled on the carpet as he walked to a raised seat. His hazel eyes were of an arresting color, brown at some cast of the light and then in the reflection of the fire they looked more molten gold.
Once he sat down, Telchar got right to the heart of the matter.
“What does a Noldor elf want with this dwarf of Nogrod? Unless you have come here to trade or barter?” Curufin leaned forward and sincerely explained who he was and why he was interested in meeting. He mentioned his father and that he had been schooled in smith craft under the greatest elven smiths who had ever lived, but there was much to learn from the dwarves.
Telchar interrupted, “And you feel that you could learn more from the likes of me?”
Curufin assured him that he had much to learn and that he would be a good student for as long as he would have him.
Celegorm listened to this all in silence and ate some of the food on the table and drank some of the full bodied ale that they had been served. He had known of this plan of Curufin’s and planned to stay with his brother for the duration, perhaps hunting with Huan in the lands around the dwarvish settlement. He did not know if this Telchar would even accept his brother so he prepared to console him if his suit were rejected. It seemed a half cooked scheme to him but that is what they did for each other as brothers, backed each other up.
Telchar looked as though he were mulling it over. He sat back on the ornate, raised seat looking down at the elves, even though they were much taller than he was. His golden hazel eyes sparkled in the firelight with something akin to amusement. “This is not a decision to be made lightly. You are an elf, after all. You will stay here a few days and I will make up my mind. I would like to see if you have any skill in the craft or if that was all made up.” Curufin nodded at that and had hope. His proposal had not been refused outright so there was a chance he would be accepted.
“Thank you, I appreciate your consideration, Lord Telchar.” “Well, it will come to nothing if it comes to that.” Telchar got up and asked as if a passing question, “That hound does not eat dwarves, does it?”
He skirted around the dog as he walked to the door and Celegorm replied, “Huan does not eat people in any form. He hunts game and animals.”
“Well there’s plenty of that in the Blue Mountains. Good hunting around here. I will see you at dinner this evening.”
And with that he left the room, leaving them to think over what had been said and think they did.
Before too long they were taken to a suit of rooms further into the mines and they settled in for the night. Curufin could not help hoping that he had a chance to study with the great dwarf smith Telchar, and when he went to sleep that night, he dreamt of the golden eyes that had held his gaze so true.
---
Days passed into weeks and then into months. It was never stated that Curufin would stay, but the two started working together at the forge. He never received formal acceptance of his apprenticeship with Telchar, but was not asked to leave either. So there was just a comfortable companionship of craftsman doing as they would and learning from each other.
Curufin was given all he would need to work – a leather apron that fit him, tools and his own station at the Firebeard forge.
Celegorm and Huan roamed far and wide over the Blue Mountains hunting and foraging and doing as they were wont to do, enjoying the great outdoors and tracking the woodland creatures. They returned now and again to Nogrod, bringing fresh meats to the kitchen, and for that the dwarves were grateful. The Firebeard dwarves were like any of the Naugrim; they enjoyed good food and a hearty table for their sustenance. While the great hound made them nervous, they could see the value in his skill at the hunt.
---
Telchar pumped the bellows and worked the forge as Curufin finished a blade and started on the quenching (2) of the piece. His tutor had taught him the importance of this part of process to the longevity of the blade and its endurance, along with tempering. He had learned some of this from his father, Fëanor, but he fine-tuned his knowledge now and it became second nature.
He spent every waking moment with the dwarf and they developed a camaraderie that was very close. They ate most meals together and ended up talking long into the night. Their conversations roamed over a variety of topics from childhood to philosophy to shared experiences against the evils in Arda. They found that they had a lot in common, even though they were of different races. It disproved the theory that elves and dwarves could not get along.
One day, Telchar was showing him how to inlay gems on a knife and their hands brushed. Curufin felt something stir in him. It was not as though they had not touched before, but this was the first time he had noticed a corresponding feeling or acknowledged it. It made him blush, but the heat of the room could be an explanation for that. The forge was going at full tilt and the work room was quite warm.
The dwarf was speaking but Curufin heard him as though he was speaking under water. The words were muted and hard to distinguish, almost muffled. Elves had keen hearing but this was something different altogether. It was a fault in his ears or something. He did not rightly know, but he could only agree when he was asked if he understood the procedure they had just gone over, and prayed they would go over it again at some point. Curufin had never found himself so discomposed. It was so odd for a son of Fëanor to be so put out. He could not explain it.
The moment passed and they finished the blade before stopping to have some ale. They usually built up a thirst working on the forge and slaked it with some fine dwarven ale made right there in Nogrod. The Firebeard dwarrows traded with other folk for grain and barley and were well supplied with the grain to make the libation. They were not farmers, living under ground as they did, and had to trade for their food stuffs and other luxuries. They formed relationships with men and elves and bartered finely made weapons, gems and crafted works for the things that they needed.
Today they discussed the finer points of language and Curufin wondered aloud at the paranoid secrecy of the Naugrim when it came to their language and why it was that they would not share their words and customs with other peoples.
“We keep to our own, Curufin. It is just our way. We do not want others to know too much of us and thus make us vulnerable from the outside. This sharing that you speak of, it is not the Firebeard or dwarvish way. We speak the common language and thus our own is not known.”
Curufin leaned back against the wall and propped his knee up.
“Then I will never truly know you. We will always be but cold acquaintances in this world.”
“Dorok, Curufin.” Telchar clasped his hand firmly.
The elf inclined his head, “What does that mean?”
“That word means friendship. We are friends and not cold acquaintances. Never that.”
---
“The-stars-are-beautiful.” Curufin said haltingly in Khuzdûl practicing his phrasing while pounding out a new sword.
“Zinlaz is stars.”
“Zinlaz-zinlaz-zinlaz…” the elf said as he rhythmically pounded the steel.
“Better.”
“My-eyes-are-blue,” Curufin tried.
“Blue is halk but yours are really grey,” Telchar corrected smiling.
“You noticed?”
“I miss nothing.” The dwarf laughed. “I am very observant.”
“This-is-a-difficult-language!”
“Language is aglametk… a spoken language,” Telchar explained.
“Aglametk…aglametk…aglametk.” Curufin chanted to try and commit the word to his memory.
Curufin enjoyed the guttural, glottal sounds of the language. It was so different than elvish which seemed so boring to him in its elegance now. At times it felt like he was shouting vulgarities but it was just the harshness of the sounds together. Quenya sounded so soothing while Khuzdûl was a jumble of consonants put together. It sounded best said loud in an almost shout. One could not whisper the dwarfish language or murmur. You had to really say it vehemently and with emphasis. He liked that aspect of the tongue. It was very visceral.
Telchar spoke to him in the dwarfish language and would translate word-for-word and in this way Curufin could expand his vocabulary. He also spoke the language when they were alone. It was their secret that he learned it, so none of the other Firebeards would know of Telchar passing on this knowledge to the elf. This was as much to protect the dwarf as to protect the Fëanorian.
It got to the point where they could have entire conversations in Khuzdûl without pause, and Curufin was even proficient in cussing. He loved swearing in dwarfish and found the words very expressive.
---
Telchar felt the heat of the fire on his face as he leaned over the blade. He always felt it in his heart when he was making something important. This blade would go forth into the world and perform important feats. He knew not what Angrist3 would accomplish, for he could not tell the future, but the deeds would be of import in the world to both elf and man alike. He went into a trance-like state as he shaped the metal, tempering the steel slowly and surely. He imbued the blade with properties and powers that no other blade could or would have – the power to cut through iron. This would be useful to the one who carried it and make the wielder deadly in battle. He knew who he would give the blade to but not where it would ultimately end up. Swords had a life of their own and seemed to choose their owners. Telchar did not believe in luck or circumstance. He believed in fate.
---
Curufin waited in Telchar’s chamber. He had lit candles around the room and then went to lounge lazily on the coverlet. This was the first time he had been in the dwarf’s private rooms and he looked around to see what he could learn of Telchar from his surroundings. The walls were shrouded in velvet fabric and ornate wall hangings, and the stone floor was covered with exotic carpets and warm furs. Telchar definitely liked his luxuries and comforts. He saw half finished projects on top of a trunk along with an assortment of precious gems, emeralds and rubies.
The elf lounged for a while and soon found he was very tired. Working on the forge all day was back breaking work so he thought he might just snooze for a little while. There was no harm in that, after all. He let his thoughts and worries float away into reverie and soon his dreams took over.
---
Telchar entered the chamber and was so preoccupied he did not notice the Elf lying on his bed deep in slumber. Elves do not close their eyes when they sleep. Their eyes remain open though they do not really see while they are in reverie.
He puttered around the room, removing his fur cloak, belt and shirt. He was too tired to notice the candles lit around the room and the fire in the grate. He usually had to tend to those upon arriving. He had been working on Angrist late each night after he left Curufin and it was exhausting. He was pouring much of himself into the work.
He sat on the bed to remove his boots, pulling them off and letting them thud on the carpeted floor, one, then two. He lay back on the coverlet and that was when he noticed the Noldor elf in repose.
“My my, what have we here?”
Telchar turned on his side facing Curufin and watched the elf’s chest move up and down with his breathing. Dwarves had an appreciation for beauty, both in the making of beautiful objects and in objective beauty. The elf had perfect skin, long flowing dark hair and slate grey eyes. His features combined to an aesthetic symmetry that was lovely. The craftsman could appreciate that, and reached to smooth back some errant hair that had fallen on his friend’s forehead. Curufin stirred under his touch and murmured. “You are here at last. Where have you been?”
“Hard at work. You will see tomorrow what I have been working on,” Telchar said cryptically.
Curufin laughed. “At the feast. Huan has hunted some great game for us all to eat and we shall eat well. Will you not tell me what you have made?”
“And ruin the surprise?” the dwarf teased. “Not a chance.”
The elf pretended to pout which made Telchar long to kiss his full lips. He looked at Curufin’s mouth with longing and without thinking, leaned forward to press their lips together. He felt Curufin’s sigh expel against his mouth and deepened the kiss. A hand massaged his pectoral muscle and Curufin turned to face him on the bed. Their legs entwined, Telchar’s feet reached to the middle of the Noldor’s calves. He rubbed his toes against the elf’s leggings there and their pelvises came into contact.
Curufin reached up to run his hands through the dwarf’s long dark hair and hummed against his lips. He paused to say, “I would like to stay here tonight, if that is alright with you.”
“More than alright, Curvo.”
Telchar knew that there was an attraction between them, both of the mind and of the body. They had mutual interests and skills. They even laughed together which was highly unusual for an elf and a dwarf to do. He sighed happily and leaned in for another kiss.
They continued along with their amorous pursuits, finding little rest that night.
---
Curufin took another gulp of his wine and whispered to Celegorm, “Go get that dog a bone to keep him occupied, Celegorm. He will be a nuisance before too long and ruin this whole affair.” He was still thinking about what had happened between himself and Telchar last night and did not want today’s feast wrecked by a restless Huan.
“Alright, alright!” Celegorm got up from his chair with a huff and strode out to the kitchens. He would have no rest until he did as Curufin said and it would make Huan happy to have a big juicy bone.
Curufin decided to slow down on his drinking and took a glass of water. It would not do to pass out at the feast from all this very strong dwarvish wine. He sipped some cool, clear water from a goblet and sat back. Telchar was not present yet and the food was being placed on the table. The elf was nervous to see him again after their night together and wondered what gift the dwarf had in store. Perhaps it was the jeweled dagger they had been working on together. That would be a valuable gift with all the gems inlaid in the hilt. That must be it. He felt bad as he had not made anything for Telchar but he was not the host. What was custom in this case? He did not know. He stared into his cup and frowned.
“Why so glum, Curvo? This is a happy occasion. I don’t like to see that sad expression on your face. Drink some more wine!”
Telchar perched in Celegorm’s chair and his golden eyes were full of mirth. He briefly squeezed the elf’s hand under the table, but not so anyone could see.
“I was just thinking that I had not made you a gift.”
“Ach. There is no need for that. It is more appropriate that I give you something. Fear not!”
“I suppose.”
The dwarf poured himself a glass of wine and slugged it back quickly.
“I cannot tarry here. I must sit at the head of the table with others of my order. I will see you later.”
He grasped Curufin’s hand again and rubbed his thumb over this smooth palm.
Others would not understand their relationship so they had to keep it secret from everyone. Curufin was not sure that Celegorm would understand so he dare not tell him either.
Telchar rose and smiled down at his lover, placing a hand on his shoulder. He moved past him and went to the front of the room to sit at the head of the table. Celegorm returned to the banquet hall with a large, meaty leg bone on a large pewter platter. As he got closer to Huan, the dog’s tale thumped on the ground and he salivated at the sight of the delicious treat. “Here you go, boy. This should keep you busy for a while.” The elf then ambled back to his seat next to Curufin.
---
The rest of the banquet was pretty much a blur to Curufin. He ate the succulent meats and root vegetables that were served in abundance. He drank wine in copious amounts as his glass was refilled again and again by his brother. He spoke when spoken to and answered any number of questions about his apprenticeship with Telchar and the like.
Finally, it came to the presentation of Telchar’s gift. Kind words of tribute were spoken and much was made of the new alliance between the dwarves of Nogrod and the elves of their region. The Firebeard smith moved to the dais and raised something covered in a velvet cloth. It was too big to be a dagger and why would they need to present a dagger at a banquet at any rate?
“This is Angrist,” Telchar announced. “One of my finest swords ever made. She can cut through iron like it is butter. That is no lie. I give her to you, Curufin the Elfsmith. For you are worthy.”
He did not feel worthy but he made his legs move and walk to Telchar to receive this mighty gift.
Telchar handed him the blade and Curufin said,
“I thank you, Telchar of the Firebeards. I hope to always be worthy of such a gift.”
“May you always be so.”
Curufin nodded and bowed his head and the crowd gathered roared their approval. He accepted the sword feeling a mixture of emotions; pride at having received such a wonderful blade and nervousness at feeling that it was not deserved. He mostly worried that he could not live up to the glory inherent in owning such a weapon. As he held Angrist there, he smiled and thanked Telchar and the dwarves of Nogrod but could not help but feel some sense of foreboding.
---
Later as they lay in bed together, bodies entwined, Curufin murmured against Telchar’s chest,
“I am not worthy of your mighty gift.”
“You may not feel so, but it may make you so. The right instrument has a way of improving one’s outlook.”
Curufin sighed and lay there thinking, hoping that Telchar was right.
---
Footnotes:
(1) Picture of Telchar as I imagine him - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/378935756120091685/
(2) Quenching hardens the metal so it holds an edge longer but this also makes it very brittle. To restore some ductility and durability the sword is tempered. With swords, due to their length, the challenge is greater as in a typical quenching it is possible to bend or warp the blade if it is not introduced to the quenchant smoothly and evenly. (Wikipedia)
(3) Curufin carried Angrist at his side unsheathed for many years. The sword served him well in many battles and he carried it with pride.
When their lands were over run by Morgoth’s forces in the Dagor Bragollach, he and Celegorm travelled to Nargothrond which was under the rule of their cousin Finrod. There they fomented discord and rumor, causing their cousin to lose much of the support of his people. When Beren called upon Fingon to fulfill his oath, he had little support from the populace of Nargothrond, and went off with the man and very few of his warriors to his own death.
Celegorm lusted after the beauty of Luthien, and the brothers took her captive back to Nargothrond. Huan the hound helped Luthien escape and go find Beren. In this incident Beren wrested the sword, Angrist, from Curufin as their villainy became apparent. The mortal then used the sword to cut a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. When trying to loose a second gem, the blade broke from the force of it.
Curufin and Celegorm both died during the sack of Doriath, so known as the Second Kinslaying, in which they attempted to take a Silmaril by force from Dior the Beautiful.
