A Different Kind Of Peace by Tyelca

Reunion in Mandos - Part II

Celebrimbor is reunited and reconciliated with his father.

As he neared he saw the many faces as through a mist, close yet away, sharp yet blurry, some he recognized, some he did not. But there was one face among the many that was clearer than glass, sharper than diamond, standing in a group notably separate from others, and it was the face of his father.

Their eyes met and for long moments Celebrimbor couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. A tear fell from the ashen face of his father as he detached himself from the fëar Celebrimbor now recognized as his uncles and raced towards him. Other fëar looked on disapprovingly, though Celebrimbor couldn’t say whether this was because of a breach of protocol or because of who his father was. It did not matter; he was done caring about the opinions of others.

When he regained control of his limbs, Celebrimbor too broke into a sprint and they reached each other somewhere in the middle of the crowd. His father grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close, enveloping him in a tight hug from which Celebrimbor never wanted to be released. He felt wetness on his shoulder and Celebrimbor too could not contain his tears. He was reminded of the embrace they shared in Valinor, on the eve before departure. It was so long ago and Celebrimbor had been so innocent, both to the ways of the world and to the truth, and he wished with his whole heart to turn back time and return to that evening.

His father on the other hand had seemingly not changed at all, although Celebrimbor’s perception might have been altered; for he remembered Curufinwë from their last moment together in Nargothrond, just after he had denounced his loyalty, and in his mind’s eye he saw again how his father’s eyes grew cold and his features closed down, with only disappointment showing through. Celebrimbor had turned away then, and that had been the last time he saw his father.

While not regretting his decision, now Celebrimbor wished he had acted more open and less haughty, but wish as he might the past could not be changed. So he clung to his father, for the first time in two thousand years, and breathed in the familiar scent that meant safety. He heard his father whisper nonsense in his ear and let himself be comforted by the words.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard his father say, “for everything. All bad things that happened to you were because of me. I do not ask forgiveness, for I know I am not worthy of it.”

“I’m sorry too, father,” Celebrimbor answered. What exactly he apologize for, he didn’t specify; perhaps for his final harsh words, perhaps for breaking his promise to stand behind his father, or perhaps even for not remaining in Valinor.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Tyelpë,” he heard and flinched almost unnoticeably. Curufinwë, who still held him pressed close, did note however, and with a frown he studied Celebrimbor. “What is it, my son?” There was the carefully controlled rage in Curufinwë’s voice, that even while in Mandos promised death to any and all who threatened to hurt his only child. Celebrimbor did not want to spoil their reunion, so he muttered, “Nothing, father.”

But Curufinwë had always been able to spot any lie from him, and he saw through this one too. “You can tell me,” he said gently while stroking Celebrimbor’s cheek.

“Annatar… nay, Gorthaur was the last to name me so,” Celebrimbor spoke. A muscle in his father’s face tightened at the name, but locked in Mandos there was little either of them could do. Celebrimbor sighed. “He was my friend for such a long time, and I feel so foolish for trusting him. But even now, my heart still yearns for his company, his conversation and his laugh; the Annatar I knew was so different from the Gorthaur that terrorized Beleriand, and yet they are one and the same.”

His father remained silent as he spoke, but when he was finished Curufinwë let out an unnecessary sigh and Celebrimbor saw his father forcibly relax. “You are dead now, Telpërinquar, and Gorthaur is directly responsible for that. But being dead, there is nothing you can do except wait to become alive again.” Celebrimbor recognized the wisdom of these words and the futility of the dead, and nodded. He also liked the sound of his fathername rolling from the tongue of the one who was meant to pronounce it, and decided that here in Mandos, where all were dead and all were judged, there was no need to cling to a Sindarin translation of his name.

“Now,” his father said as he led Telpërinquar back to his uncles, “let us not speak of such things. There is time enough to sift through every possible nuance of every topic imaginable, so let us not rush.” Curufinwë made a mocking sound that was almost entirely bitter and defeated. “Welcome to true eternity, my son.” Softer, he added, “I will never leave you again.”

Telpërinquar thought back to that one evening in Valinor, when his father had promised the same, and nodded.

Chapter End Notes

This is the last chapter of my first completed multi-chaptered story*! I am ridiculously happy I managed to finish it, instead of after a few chapters starting with something new and then forgetting about it. So YES! It's complete!

*A story that consists not just multiple unconnected oneshots.