Actions and Their Consquences

Reflections On A Brother's Wife

Learning that the child of the woman he had lovd, for all that his love (lust) had turned to hate, was to marry his elder brother was like Nelyo had physically thrown his prosthetic hand at him. Because, for all that had happened, he could not help but think that in another, kinder, world, the child Fingon betrothed to Nelyo could have been his. 

Eighteen years later, it was no easier. He stood behind his brother, as did the rest of his brothers, supporting the eldest in his marriage as they did in everything. Even if personally they did not really. 

Looking at Dior was like someone had stabbed him. Because that was Lúthien's face, Lùthien's eerie beauty and grace of movement. But it was Beren's colouring overlaying it, save only her white skin, and the wrongness of their features made him feel ill. It was as though someone had coloured Lúthien in with the wrong colours, and it was wrong. 

Then he looked again, and saw differences. This was not merely Lúthien with the colouring of Beren. Almost eerily beautiful that face might be, but it had a sort of noble pride that Lúthien, the treacherous bitch, did not. Her features were stronger than her mother's, her frame broader and more curvaceous. Long hair flowed freely down her back, and it was not the pin-straight river of Lúthien's midnight tresses, nor yet the wild, rumpled mass of Beren, for all that it held the same colour. It was the same gentle wave-like ripple that was so prominent among the Teleri. She must have seen them, because her eyes suddenly flashes a brilliant colourless white, and her hand tightened convulsively on Aran Thingol's arm. 

There was something else about her, something strange...she seemed...diminshed in a way, not by fright or anything, but phyiscally. The girl seemed...weak. Vulnerable. From what he had heard, she was sickly. Often ill, and physically weak. Probably the fault of those idiot parents of hers, concieving a child barely a month after being dead for a considerable amount of time. Did they not realise the effects that that would have on a child? 

He shook himself mentally. There was no room for pity for this girl. It would be easier if he pretended she didn't exist.

He didn't listen to the ceremony, and slipped away from the feast as soon as feasibly possible.

****************

The next morning, Maedhros entered the dining hall with the girl clinging apprehensively to his arm. She looked very small, though not alone, not with Maedhros' towering figure at her side. 

Celegorm felt a stab of rage run through him at the thought that Lúthien's daughter would have bedded his brother last night. How long before this child did something as ill-thought out and as terribly far-reaching as her idiot parents? Because this time, it would be squarely on the House of Fëanor. He resolved to watch her very carefully. 

Then Maglor greeted her with a bright smile, and she responded in kind, and Celegorm shuddered. It was that exact smile which Lúthien had used when she knew who he was. 

He watched her carefully, all through the meal. The girl seemed innocent and quiet, as well as practical, but who knew if it was just a facade? It would not do to let his guard down.

Even if his brothers were. Maglor was being his usual charming, open self, Amras was rather enamoured of this beautiful younger sister, and Caranthir seemed to be warming to her. Only he and Curufin remained wary.

"Is there a problem, Tyelko, Curvo?" His brother's calm voice normally calmed him and reminded him to behave, but the iron undercurrent set his teeth on edge today. Why was Maedhros taking his child-bride's side? He did not even have to acknowledge the girl after last night, but instead led her into the hall on his arm, was gentle and kind with her, seemed to take offense at their natural wariness. It was infuriating. The girl had ruined everything from the moment that Fingon had written the treaty.

"No problem Nelyo. Nothing at all." Celegorm could not even force himself to reply. Curufin managed to, but he could not through the rage strangling him.

"Then neither of you will mind greeting your law-sister as reasonable people do, will you?" Law-sister? A veritable horde of vitriolic insults rose in his gorge. The child, the girl, Lúthien's daughter was not his law-sister. Would never be so. How could his brother behave so?

"Good morning, Lady Dior."

''Lady Dior." The words were stilted and choked, but if he tried any more he would start screaming at her, and Nelyo would not hesitate to knock him out and tie him up in the dungeons until he calmed down. 

 "The same to you my Lords." She smiled at them and nodded, the movements showing a jerky fear through the trained grace. Good. The child was afraid of him.

Maedhros nodded sharply. "There. It is not so hard to be polite brothers. Now, if you will excuse us, I must show Dior Himring." It was not so hard to be polite. Not at all. Not to a girl who was physically the image of the two brats who had fucked his life up so much. 

Celegorm was hard pressed not to hiss imprecations beneath his breath as the two rose, and Maedhros offered the girl his arm to lead her out.

*****************

Celegorm spent a long time in the training yard, taking out his frustrations on the dummies. He feinted and slashed and stabbed, not stopping for who knows how long. By the time that he finally halted, exhausted and a good deal calmer, he became faintly aware of distant barking

Perhaps he should visit. How long had it been? Possibly since Huan...he veered sharply away from that train of thought. 

The barking increased in volume as he approached, and he quickened his pace, before halting in shock. Maedhros stood in the centre of the courtyard that held the kennel. "Nelyo? What are you doing here?" Maedhros didn't normally stand in the middle of the courtyard watching...what?

A slightly guilty look passed over his eldest brother's face, and he looked back. Celegorm followed his gaze to see a furry mass of hounds, Maedhros' own pack, and...oh.

"Introducing Dior to the hounds. Be nice." Celegorm could not believe it. The girl hadn't even been there a day, and was already in his sanctuary. Lúthien's daughter, the living memory of his folly and his pain. "Come, you have not met Thurindes yet, have you?" Thurindes? Obviously not.  Drawn by his curiosity, before Celegorm knew it, he was in the middle of the pack and chatting quite happily to the child. She was quite knowledgeable about hounds, and he felt his animosity melting away. A little. Barely at all. 

He knew that if he looked behind him, he would see Maedhros smirking.