There shall be no lie by Harnatano - Lithenna

Chapter 1

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“Father! Come over here! What are you waiting for?!”

From where he stood, Curufin warched his son run breathlessly a few feet away, heading toward the river with so much enthusiasm that Curufin could do nothing but smile, amused and exasperated at the same time.

“Father, come on!”

The Aros in summer was strong and beautiful, a wide river in which seemed to dwell the beauty, the powers and the strength of the lands that surrounded it. Red was the water, carrying the soil brought by the erosion from the mountains which surrounded Aglon - and for long Curufin had observed the phenomenon with a sheer interest - but still the waters glimmered in the sun, and where water and soil met, the power of life would linger.

Curufin quickly waved at his son, and taking his time, he joined his side on the river bank. Celebrimbor, it seemed, had found a nice place, where the flow was calm and the bank protected by the shadows of a few trees. “Why did it take so long,?”

“Do you really expect your old father to be as vigorous as you are, Tyelpe?” Curufin replied, and behind the sarcastic words lied an amused tone, gentle and friendly.

Celebrimbor chuckled, and he rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way only to stress his exasperation. “Do you really want me to believe that there is no energy anymore in this old frame of yours? Father, I am no child anymore, there’s no need for such dramatic tales.” As he talked, Celebrimbor unpacked the material: fishing rods, hooks and baits, but also a blanket which was quickly put on the ground, and with a mischievous smile, he looked up at his father. “You see? I even brought something for you to keep your garment clean… At least, you won’t complain about it.”

It was now Curufin’s turn to roll his eyes, his hand reaching his own forehead and rubbing it slowly. “I have a lot of work at the ford, Tyelpe, and you perfectly know that I have never been a very skilled fisherman… Why didn’t you ask Tyelkormo to come with you?”

Surprise was floating in Celebrimbor’s eyes as he stared at his father, blinking, and for a second Curufin wondered if he had said something wrong.

“Because you’re my father.” Celebrimbor replied slowly, with a look of sheer innocence upon his face, and the spark in his eyes was almost childish. Childish and loving. “And I want to spend some time with you out of the forge.”

Thus Curufin realised that his previous words weren’t wrong; they were stupid, and as Celebrimbor explained the reasons behind this short fishing trip, Curufin silently cursed himself for his blindness. 

“I appreciate uncle Tyelkormo’s presence and his cunning advises while fishing and hunting.” Celebrimbor continued. “But it is you that I want beside me today, even if we only manage to take one little fish.”

“One little fish maybe, would be enough….” Curufin replied softly, grateful and deeply touched by his son’s words. “…But it would be a precious one.”

“Exactly!” With a grin, Celebrimbor sat down and prepared the material, laiding the hooks silently and checking the lines, and Curufin could guess from the deep frown on his son’s brow that Celebrimbor was plunged in a deep concentration.

He sat down next to him, silent for a while, observing his son with interest until finally, he spoke. “So… you don’t like working in the forge with me?” There was a real, obvious, almost palpable derision behind these words, and Celebrimbor, smiling again, replied with the same gentle irony.

“I was wondering when you would finally understand; Working with you is unbearable, father. If only you were a good smith, at least I would find an interest in your presence, but oh! Eru knows how terrible your are with a hammer in your hand.”

Chuckling, Curufin silenlty praised his son for his wit, and continued with a smirk. “Maybe I should stop trying then… I’ll never be good at it anyway.”

“Someone once told me – and I think it was my father – that one should never give up on their dreams.” Celebrimbor was obviously trying to keep a straight face, but already Curufin could see him struggle to bit back his laughters. “If you want to become a good craftsman, father, you should persevere. I could help you, give you some advices.”

“Hmm.” Curufin nodded, faking a deep concern, crossing his arms over his chest as he pretended to ponder the offer. “Yes, I suppose I need more practice… and a teacher.”

Finally Celebrimbor burst into laughters, a contagious laughter which didn’t spare Curufin. Laughing, he shook his head, picked up the fishing rod his son had prepared for him, and tossed the hook into the water.

“Can you imagine it, father?” Said Celebrimbor through his laughters. “Me as your teacher? Can you imagine yourself, learning things from me? As if I could teach you anything.”

Curufin replied with another chuckle, keeping quiet a truth which he didn’t dare confess; That his son had taught him more things than he would ever have expected; The love he had felt since his birth, and during all these years, the wisdom he had gained while watching him grow up, the simple joys of innocence he had rediscovered by his side. Oh yes, so many beautiful things Curufin had learnt from his son. And he was still learning, in this very moment.

But none of this would be said aloud, and Curufin hid it behind a soft smile.

“You knnow, Tyelpe.” He said calmly after his son had pulled himself together. “I was joking when I said we didn’t need to take more than one little fish. We need to catch as many fishes as possible.”

With a frown, Celebrimbor glanced at his father.  “May I ask why?”

“The Aros flows to the eastern borders of Doriath. If we don’t catch them, all these fishes will go straight to Elwë’s dinning table… We don’t want that, do we?”

Another exasperated laughter fell from Celebrimbor’s lips, and when he replied, his tone was caustic and purposely overdramatic. “You’re insane, father.”

“At least, I never forced my father to go fishing with me.” There was a tender derision in Curufin’s voice, and the look he gave his son was filled was a gentle mockery.

“I am sure he wouldn’t have complained.”

Curufin hadn’t expected this reply, and it seemed that these words, coming from his son, implied so many things. Speechless, and no less troubled by the statement, he simply nodded and stared at the water. And, for a long while, only its sweet music could be heard, along with the two Noldor’s peaceful breathings.

“Father…?”

Celebrimbor’s voice pulled Curufin out of his silent contemplation, and he blinked a few times, waiting for the upcoming question. “Hmm?”

“Are you happy… Sometimes?”

The question was followed by a long silence, awkward and heavy, but Celebrimbor, obviously embarrassed, continued. “I mean… Since we are here, in Endórë, since… he died… I rarely see you smile, you always seem… distant. More than before.”

Keeping his eyes on the water, Curufin remained silent, but something that felt like melancholy started to burn in his chest.

“… And I just want to know, father, if I can do anything… I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

Now, the only thing Curufin could think of was the way his own behavior was affecting his son. His own sadness, his fears and quiet misery could reach his son, and to this fact he had been blind for too long. And yet, he couldn’t pretend more than he already did, nor could he ask Celebrimbor to help him. It was a burden Curufin couldn’t force upon his son, and his son, Curufin would make sure of it, would be protected from the harrowing feelings which too often assaulted his own mind.

And yet it took a long time before he dared look at him, his gaze slowly leaving the water to fall upon Celebrimbor’s face. And when Curufin talked, at last, his voice was but a whisper, unusually shy and embarassed. “I am happy now.”

Smiling softly, Celebrimbor nodded. “I just–”

“I know.” Curufin cut him off, gently but firmly. “Do not worry, Tyelpe. You are here, with me, and you are safe. Nothing else matters.”

He saw his son move forward, leaning toward him – maybe to rest a hand on his shoulder, maybe to pull him into a warm embrace – but before Celebrimbor could touch him, the sinken fixed on the line trembled, and with two firm hands, Celebrimbor grasped the rod, an enthusiastic grin upon his lips. “Father! Let us make sure this fish never reaches Thingol’s kitchens!”