Go Upon Your Knee by Agelast

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Chapter 1

After the dust and light of the road, the coolness of Curufin’s tent was relief and Eöl closed his eyes for a moment, though he knew that to be foolish. He was among kinslayers now, Elves who would think nothing of sticking a knife between his ribs and calling the matter finished. Anger, his constant companion on this journey, flared in him once again, hot and perilous, but outwardly Eöl remained impassive and waited.

And Curufin was content to make him wait, until the sunlight outside grew orange and then dimmed, and silent servants came and lit the lamps. No one looked at him, or paid him any mind. It was as if his very existence was deemed wholly insignificant.

Eöl waited, knowing that this was not so. The encampment was new, the grass outside hardly crushed. Curufin had lain in wait for him, like a spider in its web. Eöl’s hand inched for some activity, even a hammer to hold. But wisely, they had taken Eöl’s weapons away, and though it seemed that he was alone, he could feel many eyes upon him.

Suddenly, a hush fell upon the tent, and Curufin came in, smiling faintly. He made no apologies about keeping Eöl waiting, but what to be expected. Besides Aredhel, Eöl had never seen any of the Noldor face-to-face. There was a slight, family resemblance between his wife and her cousin -- the narrow, clever face, the luminous grey eyes, unnaturally bright, and severe mouth that (on Curufin) -- was shaped into a small smirk.

Curufin spoke then, every word a slow drawl. “What business do you have, Dark Elf, in my lands? A very great matter must have drawn you from your sunless woods.”

It was true that Eöl shunned the sun, but it did not seem to him that Curufin’s complexion was so much healthier than his own. But he knew better than to speak then. Instead he cast down his eyes, as if abashed. “I have learned -- Lord Curufin --” how the title burned on his tongue! -- “that my son and my wife, the White Lady of Gondolin, have ridden to visit you while I was away. It seemed fitting that I should accompany them now -- if I can.”

Curufin gave a short bark of laugh and it seemed to Eöl that he drew too close. “They would not have found the welcome they sought if you had! But no matter, they are not here. But here now, rest a while, and I will see what news of them I can get for you --” he snapped his fingers and two servants came forth, one with a tray of fruits and a silver bowl of walnuts, and another with a carafe of wine.

Curufin took one of the the walnuts and turned it around with his long fingers. “Sit down,” he said, settling in the most luxurious seat possible. His gaze was ever upon Eöl, sharp enough to cut. “Will you refuse my hospitality now that you have it, Dark Elf?”

Eöl sat. His seat was several inches lower than Curufin’s and the wine stung his throat as it went down. The only reason he could not quite believe it to be poisoned was the Curufin drank it too, with apparent gusto.

“What purpose is this new-found generosity, I wonder,” Eöl said at last.

“My brother once had --” Curufin began to say, and then shook his head. “No matter. What is done is done. I will give you the information you seek -- what direction your wife and son fly to -- if you do something for me. Just a little thing.”

Eöl sneered. “So it seems the high lords of Noldor are not above haggling.”

“Hold your tongue, if you wish to keep it,” Curufin said mildly, pouring out more wine into their cups.

Though Eöl drank sparingly after his first sip, it seemed that the wine was stronger than the one before. It was effervescent, light, the color of pooled sunshine. He looked at his glass with dislike. but could not quite put it down and be done with it. “This is terrible.”

“You truly are a barbarian,” Curufin said with hooded eyes. “This is wine has a far prouder heritage than yours. It comes from the cuttings that were grown at the foothills of Taniquetil.”

“I have had Dwarf-brew that tasted better this collected piss of the Belain,” Eöl said. After a moment, he poured the rest of the wine on the carpet, rubbing the dregs into the fibers.

 

“How fortunate was my cousin Írissë to have married a man of such culture and wit,” Curufin said, springing up, reaching for Eöl. Eöl did not move away -- he straightened instead and held his ground. Curufin bore down upon him, a hardness against his chest, under his clothing. Armor.

Eöl began to laugh and laugh, and he let himself be pushed on the ground. “You Noldor,” he spat out to Curufin’s face. “There is no honor in you. You believe an unarmed man is a danger to you.”

“You are a danger -- to yourself, if no one else,” Curufin breathed, his eyes shining bright. Eöl suppressed a shiver, but could not help making a strangled moan as Curufin pressed against him. It was not his fault. He had not slept with Aredhel since the boy had been born, and how long was that? What he felt now, it meant less than nothing. It was a trick, there was something in the wine…

Curufin gathered himself up and stood. His eyes were cold. “If you wish to get what you seek -- and pay for that carpet -- you must go upon your knee.” He pulled up his tunic and pushed down his hose, his cock bobbing as if on command.

Eöl’s mind was blank as he crawled on his knees to where Curufin stood. He pushed his face against Curufin’s hip, letting his mouth fall open. A memory, half-repressed, came upon him, of a creature that was fairer than Curufin and whose eyes were brighter, the brightest thing in Angband. He had howled like a wolf when Eöl did this to him, scratching down his cheeks. !!!

Just as the memory surfaced, it sank again, until Eöl was back again in the present, sucking Curufin’s cock. He was good at it, as he was at most things he did. Once, in the first, heady days of their marriage, Aredhel, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, had tried to do it. But she pulled away soon after, coughing and exclaiming that she could not see how it could be done.

Eöl did it well enough, however, and Curufin came with a shout and pushed him away. Eöl fell on his back, panting for breath. He stared up at Curufin as Curufin stared down at him. He could feel the balance between them changing, as surely as he had left Curufin trembling the moment before.

“West,” Curufin said roughly. Eöl blinked, not comprehending for a moment.

“It has not been two days since they passed over the Arossiach, flying westward. Go, if you would, and seek them.”

Eöl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and got up. “I thank you, Lord Curufin.”

Curufin’s eyes sparked dangerously. “Now you have my leave to go, Dark Elf, but not my love. The sooner you depart from my lands, the better it would please me.”

Eöl waited until he had mounted on his horse before he replied. “These lands you have,” he said slowly, “you have but for the sufferance of the Enemy. Do not be so proud, kinsman. When I return this way, I will remember you.”

“We are not kin,” Curufin said, looking upon him darkly. “My cousin deserved better than she got with you. But you have leave and so take it and be gone. By the laws of the Eldar -- that govern me, if not you --”

Eöl snorted sharply, but Curufin went on as if he had not heard, “I may not slay you now. And some advice I will give you, though you will not listen. Go back to Nan Elmoth! My heart warns me that if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither.”

Eöl did not reply to Curufin’s words. Already, his thoughts raced ahead. To where Aredhel had gone with their son -- to Gondolin.

Chapter End Notes

Summary from John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi, which is surely grim-dark enough for this particular episode in the Silmarillion. 

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