Silmarillion Writers' Guild

Here is the next chapter of "The Marring of Bliss".

CHAPTER TITLE: Athrabeth Curufin Ah Aredhel
AUTHOR: Digdigil
RATING: 14A for this chapter: NC-17 for the story as a whole.
WARNINGS: Some sexual description but not as much as before.

SUMMARY: Curufin and Aredhel re-examine their relationship.



Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. I am merely borrowing them for a while. I will not be receiving any remuneration for this writing.


Ten years passed. The frustration that Curufin felt plagued him far more severely than he would have believed. It was not just a lack of sexual relief that plagued him, but a constant worry that Aredhel did not love him as much as he thought she did, or as much as she said she did. She was more remote than she used to be toward him. He noticed it in the little things that she did or didn’t do. Once there was a time when she would come seeking him out at the forge: she would stick her head around the corner of the doorway and call him to come outside. She would meet him with eyes brightly shining in expectation of seeing him, and would be bubbling over with happiness when he came to the doorway. He could feel that she was delighted to see him. While they were riding she would look his way often and a current of emotion would pass between them. Again, he could feel that connection between them, of friendship and more. But lately there was the remoteness that he did not like at all. He tried to ask Celegorm for his opinion on the matter. No one in his family knew women the way that Celegorm did. Unfortunately, Celegorm’s knowledge of women was limited to the physical, and not necessarily the emotional, aspects of love. A recent conversation between them had not gone particularly well.

Curufin entered Celegorm’s bedroom while his brother sat at his desk writing a letter. It was to his latest Vanyarin lady friend, and he was having some trouble composing it. He sat hunched over with one hand in his hair, alternately pulling on and scrunching up the golden strands. Curufin stood in the doorway and looked around the room. It was a mess. The bed was unmade and the covers lay in a heap on the floor. Celegorm had been making new arrows for hunting by using feathers from his pillow because he was too lazy to go and kill a duck or have one of the hands do it, and the pillow sat on top of his sheets with feathers spilling out of it and they were all over everything in the room. When he had discovered that the feathers from the pillow were too small to use for the arrows, he had not bothered to repair the pillowcase, but had just left it on his bed the way it was.

He had borrowed some books of lore from his father’s library in order to look up suitable phrases for use in composing the letter, but could not find anything he liked as his older brother Maedhros had taken out all of the romance stories. Celegorm had left his father’s books scattered all over the floor and some of them had been stepped on and their pages were bent. His dresser top was littered with bits of things like pieces of string, stockings with unmended holes, bits of leftover stale food from snacks, and crumpled up pieces of parchment.

Curufin sniffed in disgust. The room smelled bad as well: a combination of rotting food, sweaty stockings and unchanged sheets. Celegorm, however, looked clean and presentable, as if untouched by any of the clutter around him.

“Turko”, said Curufin from the door, “May I come in?”

“Kurvo!” Celegorm whisked around on his chair to beam a bright smile upon his brother. “Just the man! Come help me compose a note to Tintarwen”.

“Well, I wanted to ask you about something that has been troubling me”, said Curufin.

“Help me do this first and then I’ll help you”, was the answer.

“Why didn’t you ask Maitimo? He is much better with letters than I”.

“He’s a stuffy prig”, replied Celegorm, “And you’re just as good with letters as he is, and you’re much less stuffy!”

Feeling flattered yet frustrated, Curufin said he would help. “What have you written so far?” he asked.

“Dear Tintarwen”, said Celegorm. “I am sorry to tell you that I no longer find you attractive and must call off our engagement”.

Curufin thought about this for a moment. “What engagement?” he asked.

“We had plans to attend a function at King Ingwë’s together next week”.

“Is it the Spring Blooms Festival? The one that Ada said he’d rather get stuck in the eye with a red hot poker than attend?”

“Yes, that’s the one”, said Celegorm.

“I thought you wanted to go”, said Curufin.

“I did, but I’ve changed my mind now”, said Celegorm.

“Why?” asked Curufin.

Celegorm sighed. “Tintarwen is becoming too serious about me and I need to call things off with her”.

Curufin considered these words. How he should love it if his place were exchanged for that of Celegorm and Aredhel’s for that of Tintarwen. Then he would have what he wanted: that Aredhel would be as in love with him as he was with her.

“Well, I’ll tell you, Turko, first of all, you cannot say that you find Tintarwen unattractive. It sounds rude and – and – as if you lack gentility or something”.

Celegorm turned and looked at Curufin realistically. His face was devoid of any expression of guilt and he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I need for her to fall out of love with me – to cause her to dislike me, even – and I thought this would be the best way to do it. If I say something kind, then she might pine, and pester me forever”.

“Fine. If you love what you wrote, then why did you ask me for help?” asked Curufin.

“It’s the last part I don’t like”, replied Celegorm. “It’s not final enough. I want her to think I mean ‘forever’”.

“Then say “- must call off our engagement for now and our relationship forever”, said Curufin. “That’s pretty final”.

“That’s wonderful! I’ll do it! Thank you, Kurvo!” cried an enthusiastic Celegorm.

Curufin winced. “Not at all”, he said, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll see you later then”.

“Wait!” cried Celegorm. “Didn’t you want my help with something also?”

Curufin sighed. He was not sure he’d like anything Celegorm had to say about the matter, but he needed to talk to someone. Maedhros and Maglor were too old, he thought, and too wrapped up in their own lives to have time to dispense good advice, Caranthir was impossible and the twins were too young. He was closest in temperament to Ada, although Ada was becoming grumpier and more fell of late. Also, Ada had been fighting something terrible with Uncle Nolofinwë recently and he didn’t want the rest of the family to know of his feelings for Aredhel yet. Celegorm would have to do: besides, he was closest to him and knew him best, anyway.

“I have a dread feeling of late that Aredhel does not care for me as much as she did, and does not match my love for her”, he blurted out. “This causes me much distress, Turko”.

Celegorm considered for a moment, a crease appearing in his fair brow. He put a hand in his hair and ruffled it. That action left a few strands sticking straight up in the air on the top part of his head. Curufin fixed his gaze upon these strands to help him to focus on not crying.

“Look, Kurvo”, Celegorm said finally. “Look at me. I would rather not be tied down to one maiden. I prefer my freedom. And I am in my eighties now. You are still young and should prefer to have your freedom as well. On the other hand, I do not have the love in my heart for someone else as you do. But if Aredhel feels not the same, then I do not think you should waste your time on pining for her”.

“I’ll consider that”, said Curufin bitterly and rose to leave. He did not feel any better. “Thank you, Turko”, he said anyway.



~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~



Several weeks passed and Curufin put all of his energy into his work at the forge. He had not talked to Aredhel since his conversation with Celegorm. He was testing her to see if she would miss him and come to see him as she used to in the past. He looked up from his work and gazed at the door wistfully. Poldanis was working across the room from Curufin. In the years since her instructional meeting with him, she had watched him carefully. He had her love, that was for sure, but she knew that he did not know it. She caught his gaze when he looked from the empty door back to his work. In his eyes she saw a look of pain pass like a cloud before the stars. She put down her tools and crossed the room to stand in front of his table.

“Are things not well with you then?” she asked.

He bit his lip and looked down. “No”, he whispered and shook his head. Her voice had been kind. He tried not to cry.

“Well”, she said, patting his arm. “I am always ready for a good talk if you need it. Please know that I understand how you feel. You know where to find me if you need me”. And she walked back to her work station.

During the time that Curufin busied himself at the forge, waiting for Aredhel to come to see him, Celegorm had decided to go secretly to have a talk with his cousin. She had been pleased to see him, but he told her that he had a serious purpose in coming and wanted to keep their meeting brief.

“I must tell you, Aredhel, that my brother is pining for you badly, and yet you have not seen him for ages. He is bereft of your company and thinks you no longer love him. I have come to find the truth from you so that he does not suffer needlessly any longer”.

Aredhel took a few deep breaths at hearing these words. “It is not that I do not love him”, she said, “But it is not in the way that he thinks. I love him, and you, more as brothers, and yet when I have tried to tell him that, he has not heard me”.

“Well, maybe it is in the way you have said it”, Celegorm suggested. “Be more forthright. Come out with it. Do not tell him you love him at all. Tell him you no longer find him attractive”.

“I don’t think I can do that”, said Aredhel. “It sounds cruel”.

“Try it”, said Celegorm with resolve.



~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~



A few more months passed, and Curufin grew tired of waiting for Aredhel to come to see him. She had not come riding with him and Celegorm for a long time and he was worried. He rode to Fingolfin’s house early one morning to see her on his day off from working. He was ushered into Fingolfin’s sumptuous dwelling, which was so much more ornately decorated than his father’s. While waiting for Aredhel in a parlor, he glanced around at the lavish chandelier with at least a hundred candles burning in it, and at the sumptuous red velvet curtains trimmed in gold braid. He felt the softness of the thickly padded upholstery of his chair that matched the other chairs and sofas, all covered in gold satin.

Presently, Aredhel entered the room. It had been a long time since Curufin had seen her, and she had changed in that time. She had grown quite tall and looked to be much sturdier in build, and Curufin leapt to his feet when he saw her. Her eyes looked the same, and her hair was as lustrous and radiant as it had always been. He thought her even more beautiful in her maturity.

“Nell!” He cried, and moved toward her to embrace her.

“Curufin”, she said, trying not to smile. She almost faltered then, for he looked tall and handsome, his rich hair shone in the candlelight, and he was so obviously happy to see her. But she stood tall and straight and held her arms stiffly at her sides.

“Please don’t call me that anymore”, she said, trying very hard to make her voice sound cold.

“What?” He asked, more out of shock than merely asking what he should not call her.

“Nell. It is a ridiculous nickname from our childhood. I am Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, White Lady of the Noldor”, she said as stiffly as she could muster.

Curufin was shocked speechless, and took a few steps backwards. When the back of his knees hit the chair, he sat down hard.

Aredhel gulped and went on. “I am glad you have come, Curufin, for I was going to send you a note, but it is more fitting that this is done in person. However, it would not have been seemly for me to have come to you”.

“N – note?” He stammered. “S – seemly?”

“Yes”, she said. “When we were young and foolish, we declared our love for each other and became betrothed”.

“Yes!” He cried. “Because we loved each other! I love you still!”

She interrupted him. “It was silly, childish love. Yet you tried to force yourself on me in a most embarrassing way when I was not yet ready”.

Curufin’s face turned red. “But you liked it –“he started to say.

“No!” She cried. “No! I did not! You never understood!”

“Oh, Nell, I am sorry”, he said, his heart suddenly heavy in his chest. He rose and went to her, taking her in his arms and putting his face in her hair, smelling the sweet scent of lilac. She closed her eyes and for a moment she savored the feel of his strong arms around her once more, and his scent of citrus mixed with smoke from the forge. But then, with steely resolve, she pushed him away from her.

“No, Curufin!” She said. “I must tell you this now. I no longer love you, and I do not wish to wed. It is over. What we had is no more”.

“No, Nell”, he whispered, his face crumpling, and tears beginning to fall.

She held onto the framework of the parlor door to keep herself from faltering. Her knees felt weak and she knew she was shaking. “Yes, Curufin”, she said. “I mean it. It is over”.

“I don’t believe you”, he cried. “I will never believe it!”

Aredhel ran from the room then and upstairs to her bedchamber, where she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed with grief. It was done, but she was not happy about it. And he was right not to believe her.

Curufin stayed in the parlor until he had stopped weeping. Then he took a last look around, rose and went out of her house for the last time.



~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~



The next day in the forge he stared across the room at Poldanis. She returned his gaze and was frightened by what she saw in him. His eyes were rimmed with red and his face was serious and darker – looking more fell than she had ever seen it. He was staring pointedly at her, too. She knew he wanted to talk and she nodded at him and raised her eyebrows. He pressed his lips together and trying to smile, grimaced instead. Then he nodded back to her.

When the smiths took a break to rest and eat, Poldaris approached him. “Potting shed?” She asked. He nodded again.

“I’ll go first. You come in half an hour, around to the back”, she said. He nodded once more and smiled at her.

The first thing she did when they lay together on the hammock was to take his face in her hands and look into his eyes. Deep within their shadows was a fire, much like his father’s, she thought, but on the surface she saw pain. She placed her thumbs gently on his eyelids and closed them. Then she kissed each one. She caressed his face tenderly with her hands and smoothed his soft brown hair. Then she undid the tie holding his hair back and spread it around his shoulders. With great care she unbuttoned his shirt and laid her cheek against his smooth, warm chest. She could hear his heart beating rapidly beneath her ear. Then she unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and then her own. Skillfully and very slowly, she made love to him in the way that only real lovers do. She took her time and tended to his every need. When they had finished, she looked at his face. She wanted to see if some of the troubled look had gone out of it and she was pleased to see that he looked calmer, more peaceful and relaxed, but there was still a look of hurt in his eyes.

“That will take a long time to go away”, she thought as she stroked his cheek and his hair.