A Hunt in Nan Elmoth by HannaGoldworthy

Chapter 1

Well, this STARTED as an angsty, scary piece.  But Celegorm...Celegorm doesn't respond to horror like healthy people do, and neither do Ambarussa.  So this turned out to be more of a nine-page-long brotherly argument, and I think I like that better.

Read Chapter 1

Nan Elmoth proved to be far more dark and forbidding than its reputation would have had most believe.  The trees were nearly as tall as those of the forest of Lorien, but not nearly as peaceful.  Celegorm’s gift for languages extended not to growing things, but he was canny enough to know when he was being discussed and censured, and this forest quite obviously thought ill of him.  Huan whimpered quietly beside where his master crouched; so he felt it as well.

 

If he stopped, and listened closely, he could hear his intended prey chittering mildly, deep in the trees in their tangled webs.  Celegorm had never hunted the spawn of Ungoliant before, and, while he heard that there were bigger spiders to be found in the lands far to the east, he could more easily justify hunting in Nan Elmoth, which was comparatively close to home.  The fact that he might be discovered by Elu Thingol, who technically owned the place even if it remained separate from Doriath, only made it even more attractive as a destination.  One of his brothers composed increasingly stupid barsongs to rest from more tiring tasks.  One made relentless, increasingly suicidal love to his chosen mate when they were in the middle of a centuries-long siege and really should not be creating children.  One refused to rest at all and spent every waking moment either on the practice field or on the battle field.  Celegorm, however, was a simple man, with simple needs; when he needed a break from killing things, he went and killed newer and more interesting things, and so far it had worked for him.

 

Thankfully, he was not the only elf in Arda who shared this particular passion, and they were approaching even as he thought of them.  Two pairs of footsteps crept up behind him, soft enough that he was sure only he and Huan could hear them.  The hound growled out a warning, but as Celegorm had been anticipating this arrival, he did not turn around.

 

“Ah, Nan Elmoth – how you frighten us,” said one voice, a fair tenor that had often been roped into singing some of Maglor’s higher compositions.

 

“I’m told old Elwë met his creepy wife here,” said another voice, this one harsh and ruined, though no less sarcastic than the other.

 

“I believe it.  It suits them.”

 

“Think a spider knit the wedding gown?”

 

“They literally did nothing but stare at each other for centuries, I’m told.  So, in a way…yes?”

 

Celegorm rolled his eyes even as he smiled.  He’d missed this.  “Ungoliant’s brood is more cowardly even than the Maiar.  They only settled here when that witch was safely away to Doriath.”

 

The fair voice snorted.  “So much the better for us, then.  Well, at least they’ll be tasty.”

 

Even Celegorm had to spin around at that.  “Wait, what?”

 

Amras grinned, giving his older brother enough time to notice the fine goatee he had managed to grow before hitting his third life cycle; Grandfather Mahtan would be proud.  “Oh, come now.  Spiders aren’t so different from crabs; boil them and slather them with butter, and you have a feast fit for a king.  Or three errant princes, if you prefer.”

 

“That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my life.”

 

Amrod twitched his forehead in what might have been a lifted eyebrow, were it not for the burn scars that crisscrossed his face.  Celegorm tried to hide the conflicting feelings that the younger man’s altered form awoke within him; this was his brother, and he would not look at him with anything other than respect.

 

“Really, Celegorm?” the younger twin inquired, his harsh voice almost soft.  “Eating spiders is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever heard of?”

 

“That’s interesting,” Amras continued, in the act of sharing minds in which the twins had delighted since childhood, “because, as I recall, you were the first to eat that nasty mold spore that appeared when Ithil first arose.”

 

“No ill came of it, even if Moringotto was behind its creation…”

 

“And, as I recall,” Amrod said, talking right over him, “you had this nasty habit of sharing your bed, your clothes, and even your meals with that beast right beside you.”

 

“Huan has more culture than the both of you put together…”

 

“And, as I recall,” Amras caressed his beard boastingly, “you and Ireth were dead-set on marrying.  What is she, our first cousin?”

 

“First half cousin,” Amrod corrected. “But who’s counting?”

 

“I never saw you chiding Maedhros and Fingon on their relationship!”

 

“Do I look suicidal to you?”

 

Celegorm made a point of looking Amrod in the eye.  “You said it, not I.”

 

Amrod gaped, reeling as if struck.  “Gracious, we have witty repartee!  Amras, what would you call someone who wishes to marry their first cousin?”

 

“Kinshagger has an excellent ring to it – it’s not like we all haven’t done much worse.”

 

“Ah, but Amras, I doubt he ever actually shagged her.  Ireth has higher standards.  Huan, on the other hand…”

 

“IF YOU ARE QUITE DONE.”

 

The two other elves blinked innocently, and Celegorm was painfully reminded of younger days, when he could have lightly smacked Ambarussa’s russet heads together and gone joyfully on their hunt without (much) further quarrel.

 

Well, some things never changed, at least.

 

WHACK!

 

“Think we touched a nerve, Ambarussa?” Amras inquired brightly, rubbing at his left temple.

 

“I think there’s a slight chance, Ambarussa,” Amrod answered joyfully, rubbing at his right.

 

“I’m going to touch all of your nerves with malicious intent if the two of you do not cease your witlessness.  There are spiders in yonder forest.  You are here to help me hunt them.  You are not here to make sly remarks about my love life – or any lack thereof.  Yes, Amras, that means you.”

 

The twins pouted as exaggeratedly as they could – and being Fëanor’s sons, that was saying a good deal. Amras lazily headed toward the forest, hardly bothering to acknowledge his older brother as he did so.  “As you say, my lord.  Whatever you wish, my lord.  Do try not to waken the entire forest with your rage fits, my lord.  How do you deal with this on a daily basis, Huan?”

 

The wolfhound whined mournfully as he allowed Amras to pat him on the head.

 

Meanwhile, Amrod had the nerve to open his fool mouth again.  “So, spider-hunting, eh?  And this has nothing to do with Caranthir’s dwarf drinking buddies saying that dear Lady Aredhel was last seen near this very forest.”

 

Celegorm raised a dark eyebrow, and refused to rise to the bait of his brother using a name that was meant to be secret.  “Seriously?  You think Ireth would be side-tracked by a dark, dense forest and some large arachnids?  One would think you’d never hunted with her.”

 

Amrod affected a slight shrug.  “And one would be right in thinking that.  You always hoarded her attention…”

 

The moron had the audacity to snicker as he dodged a half-hearted swipe and ran towards the forest. 

 

“Amras!  Get over here and leash your animal, or I’ll tan his hide and make him into a footrest.”

 

Amras looked over at Huan, who let out another long-suffering whine.  “I guess that means we’re starting.”

 

***

 

Three days later, Celegorm was fairly certain that the four of them were being led in circles.  Nan Elmoth was treacherous, but it was by no means large; if they had been going in a straight line, they’d have emerged on the other side by now.  Not only that, but they had not run into any sign of spiders – not even a web, even though Celegorm could plainly hear the wretched things gossiping.  There was some foul magic afoot; judging by Huan’s growing unease, they’d been being followed for hours.

 

Well, he’d expected this.  It was not as if an experienced outdoorswoman like Ireth could be so easily conquered by a normal forest.  That was his entire point in inviting along estranged Ambarussa; Amras had always had a way with plants, and often persuaded strange trees not to eat them, while Amrod was a natural pathfinder even in the darkest of places.

 

If he wanted to be honest with himself, the real reason Celegorm had invited them was because he hoped an adventure like the ones in their childhood would mend things between him and his brothers.  Ambarussa had been a constant presence at his side in all the activities Curufin had eschewed as a waste of time; it had been such a relief to have, not one, but two brothers who shared in all of his decidedly non-scholarly interests in the freedom of the wild.  For the first time in his life, he had not been completely alone.

 

And now?  Well, to any eye inexperienced with the family of Fëanor, things seemed to be going well.  The twins were cracking jokes, finishing each other’s thoughts, ribbing Celegorm gently, and generally being as quietly brilliant in their element as they had always been without their more sedentary and scholarly brothers.  But Celegorm’s quick eye noticed how Amrod still moved woodenly, the scar tissue still holding him back from jumping as gracefully as he had before the Trees were killed.  He saw how Amras seemed to assist him almost as easily as breathing; Celegorm noted how, no matter how hard or how often the older twin smiled or laughed, the merriment never washed away the anger in his eyes.

 

The debacle at Losgar had changed things irrevocably between all of his brothers, but especially the twins.  Amrod had survived the fire on his boat, barely, but he had been confined to the healer’s tent for weeks.  Amras had never left his side, and had glared speechlessly whenever their father dared to see how his son’s recovery was progressing.  Neither had been present for Fëanor’s demise, or for his final, fateful words; in fact, they seemed to have forgotten the Oath altogether, and seemed happier for it.

 

Celegorm supposed he should have been happy that they agreed to come with him, seeing as he was so close with Curufin, their father’s favorite.  Still, being on the road with them, again, seemed to remind him more of what they had lost than what remained; the twins shared their own little world, and after Losgar, after Alqualonde, he was only privy to watch, never engage.

 

“Tyelko, I wouldn’t go that way.”

 

“It seems not too dangerous, and it’s better than chasing our tails.  Why not go that way?”

 

Amrod obviously sighed, and Celegorm’s heart sank even lower.  Somehow, he could never say the right thing, even with these brothers with whom he had so much in common.  “It feels wrong.  Even Huanie thinks so.”

 

“Do not presume to know the thoughts of a being far and above more intelligent than you.  And don’t call him by that name if you value your windpipe intact.”

 

“But he’s a goodwiddle Huanie-poo!  Yes he is!  Yes he is!”

 

The wolfhound looked at his master, and his face plainly said: If you do not bite him, I will.

 

“The proposition of my new footrest still stands.”

 

“Peace.”  Amras massaged his temples, though to Celegorm’s dismay he still smiled.  “I can see what you mean, brother.  We’ve been following Huan’s instincts, for the most part, and it’s gotten us nowhere.  Perhaps if we go against instinct, where the forest does not want us?”

 

The elder brother smirked haughtily.  “There, see?  Was that so hard?  Now, on we go.  Don’t you dare lag behIIIIIIIAAAAH!”

 

A snare.  Out of all the foul magic, muttering trees, and distinct lack of any normal animal activity that could have felled him at any point over the past few days, and Celegorm had caught his foot in a hunting snare.

 

Well, at least Amras actually laughing now, and not resentfully.  But so was Amrod, and so, humiliatingly, was Huan. Celegorm could have died of sheer embarrassment if he was not so intent upon sudden and wholesale murder.

 

Amras at least had the grace to attempt to stifle his laughter with his palm.  “Ah, yes.  That wasn’t so hard at all.”

 

“Cut me down, brother, or so help me Tulkas, I will wipe my ass with your scalp.”

 

“Temper, temper!  Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

The smooth, oily voice belonged to no one in their group.  Celegorm watched his brother’s face fall as Amras looked at someone he could not see from where he dangled.  Huan’s hackles rose threateningly, and his thunderous growls promised death to whatever person lingered just out of his master’s reach.

 

And Amrod?

 

Amrod lifted a hand in greeting, grinned like a complete dolt, and slurred with his ruined voice as if he was drunk as well as (apparently) brain-dead.

 

“No, but I kiss your mother with mine!”

 

***

 

“Good news!  I think we’ve discovered the reason behind Nan Elmoth’s strangeness.”

 

“You’d just guessed this?  What was it that informed you?   The bloody lip he gave you for insulting his mother, or the fact that he has us trussed like slaughtered pigs in his root cellar?”

 

The dark elf favored Celegorm with a look that was probably supposed to be withering.  Celegorm sneered back, even though he was (once again) upside down; he’d faced down Artanis Nerwen at Alqualondë without soiling himself (much), and this maggot was chicken feed when compared to her in any aspect.

 

“This is my dungeon.”

 

“I suppose it would resemble a dungeon to a spineless, talentless excuse for a mold-sucking parasitic nitwit.  But to anyone with any station whatsoever, this is a root cellar.”

 

The Avari halfwit had the audacity to roll his eyes at a son of Fëanor.  “As far as you’re concerned, it is a dungeon, because you’re not getting out.  You obviously could not best me on my own ground…some Noldor you lot have proven to be.”

 

“Cut me down, and I’ll show you what sort of Noldo I am, peasant.”

 

“I am frozen with fear.  Happy hangings, kinslayers.  Have fun with all the blood rushing to your heads.”

 

Amrod piped up once more, and just the sound of his intake of breath made Celegorm want to kill him.  “Kinshaggers, oh foul-smelling one.  That means our love life is more interesting than yours.”

 

The dark elf spared a moment to kick Amrod, sending him swinging wildly where he hung upside down at Celegorm’s left.  Then, the interloper made an overwrought gesture with his hands, gliding overdramatically up the stairs as if walking on darkness itself.

 

Amras decided to grace them with his opinion, for once.  “Artanis would have eaten him for breakfast.”

 

“Oh, sure, you say that now,” Amrod snorted.  “Might I remind you that this guy has us tied up in his basement?”

 

“Root cellar.”

 

“Semantics.”

 

“How long have you been acquainted with this family, again?”

 

“ENOUGH.”  Amras looked as if there was a headache growing behind his eyes that he could not, in his position, massage away.  “When did I become the peacemaker, here?”

 

“You’ve always been the peacekeeper with us, Ambarussa.”

 

For once, Celegorm had to agree.  “Yes, you always leaned more toward mother’s side of the family than either of us.”

 

“Which probably explained why you never had any unnatural inclination toward your first cousins…”

 

That.  That was it.  Waiting until cover of night be damned, Celegorm had had enough.  He hefted himself up to grab his ankles, retrieved the tiny skinning knife that he always kept securely bound inside his right stocking for just this sort of occasion, and began to saw furiously at the bonds on his feet.  “You’re dead, Amrod.  If I gain nothing more from this trip than the ability to slaughter you like the hog you are, I will be well repaid.  You’re mincemeat, you’re chicken pot pie, you are raw fish on a slab…”

 

“You are obviously very hungry.  Maybe we should have tried Amras’ spider recipes?”

 

“I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU UNTIL YOU ARE PERMANENTLY DEAD!”

 

“Will the two of you shut up?  The Avari’s coming back.”

 

And, indeed, the sound of footfall echoed from the stairwell.  Celegorm fell back from his work so hard that his head spun, and he had to clench his eyes and teeth against the ensuing nausea.  When he opened them again, his face fell slack with shock, for it was not the oily bastard he beheld.

 

Ireth… Iressë was so much more beautiful than he had remembered.  His heart hurt just to look at her pale face, her glossy dark hair, her immeasurably blue eyes…

 

“Tyelko?  What are you doing here?”

 

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, after a moment.  “I only came here to hunt spiders."

 

Ireth smiled, and Celegorm’s stomach did a number of loops that he could never remember it doing when they were growing up.  “Ah, yes, that is why I came here as well.  I had hoped to bring you along, but you were gone to Himring.  What kept you so long? 

 

“Curufin went and got himself a wife,” Amrod said flatly.

 

“One of Caranthir’s people, apparently,” Amras continued tonelessly, on Celegorm’s other side.

 

“It surprised us as much as it should you, but apparently it’s going well.”

 

“The thought of which causes us much gastrointestinal distress.”

 

“Though that feeling is aided greatly by the fact that we are CURRENTLY HANGING UPSIDE DOWN!”

 

Ireth blinked, as if the fact that they were bound and hanging upside down had just occurred to her.  “What?  Ah, so you are.  Who in their right mind would have the nerve?”

 

“Darling…” called the grimy interloper from upstairs, his voice dripping with the sort of overwrought “romantic” overtones that would have brother Maglor retching.  “Dinner’s ready…”

 

Ireth’s eyes glazed over again, and the empty smile returned to her face.  “Coming, dear one!  How thoughtful of you to prepare…”

 

And then she seemed to float up the stairs, humming absently to herself as she went.  Celegorm watched after her, slack-jawed, as the skirt of her deep blue dress vanished.

 

She was not even wearing white or grey.  That point stuck in his mind more than her sudden appearance or the ease in which her bright eyes had dulled.

 

Celegorm looked to his left, and saw that Amrod bore a look of faint unease.  He looked to his left, and saw that Amras was about to retch.  For once, the two of them were blessedly silent, and he took comfort in that; it meant that he was not the only one seeing how wrong the situation was.

 

“New objective,” he announced in a tone of command.  “Get loose, as we had intended.  Rescue Ireth from what seems to be a prison.  Then, get out of here as if Angbad itself is on our heels.”

 

“Finding Huanie-poo has to be somewhere on that list as well.”

 

“Call him that again, and I will skin you alive and make you into a dog-bed.”

 

“Ah, I’ve been promoted from footrest.  Oh fabulous day!”

 

“Will the two of you shut up and cut yourselves free already?  Eru only knows what that slimeball is doing to Cousin Ireth.”

 

“Only what Brother Celegorm has wanted to do to her since puberty…”

 

“Your immediate and bloody death has not been taken off of the table yet, brother…”

 

***

 

Huan was nowhere to be found in the small root cellar.  That did nothing to raise Celegorm’s spirits; he’d seen some tribes of Avari eat dogs as the main course of a feast, and had tried the meat himself when Huan wasn't looking (much to his guilt).  And, of course, their host seemed to be looking forward to the happy occasion of a wedding feast, so close to midsummer, with a bride who could not say no…

 

He gritted his teeth.  Now was not the time to fly off the handle; he could do that when he clapped eyes on the ill-kempt bastard.

 

They waited for as long as they possibly could, hoping that their captor, in his pride, would think them too well trussed to remove themselves so easily, or that he was too powerful not to notice them creeping.

 

“There’s a locking spell on the cellar hatch,” Celegorm whispered.

 

“How quaint,” Amrod deadpanned.

 

“Oh, and look,” said Amras, as Fëanor’s smile stretched across his bearded face, “the hinges are even on the inside.”

 

One quietly-removed door later, and they were into the next level of cellar.

 

“Hey, I found your dog.”

 

Huan looked up from his spot beside a simple fireplace, his tail thumping against the floor as Celegorm approached.  “Traitor,” he called him, but he scratched behind the dog’s left ear and all was right.  “Move your lazy bones.”

 

Amras’ voice echoed from another room.  “Oh, hello, Friend Sword.  What’s a lovely lady like you doing in a place like this?”

 

***

 

This was beginning to seem too easy.  Not only had they escaped and recovered their weapons and hunting equipment without being confronted, but Ireth was left to sleep alone, with no guards.  Fearing that she would cry an alarm should he wake her, Celegorm was forced to carry her, as gently as possible.  It galled him that this woman who was so devotedly independent should be force into the role of a “damsel in distress,” as Maglor would call it, but the situation could not be helped.  She could yell at him for treating her with kid gloves when she was not bewitched out of her mind.

 

Amrod walked before them, making sure the way was clear; Amras took up the rear, keeping his eyes on the trees.  One by one, they filed out of the small woodland dwelling to which that arrogant interloper likely referred as his “castle.”  Ireth’s horse was likely gone for good, and they had left theirs tethered a good way from the forest, knowing of its tricks; the distance on foot was daunting, but the Sons of Fëanor had yet to run from adversity.

 

The trees were whispering again, darker and deadlier this time.  Twice Amrod tripped over a root that had not been there the moment before.  A branch reached out to grab at Amras, leaving a cut on his face.  Huan stopped dead in front of a willow tree, growling viciously as the elves passed it; Celegorm knew not what he said, but the tree seemed to listen grudgingly.

 

The only person whose progress was not somehow impeded was Celegorm, and he was not naïve enough to think that his accomplishment.  Ireth slept peacefully in his arms, almost as unmoving as a corpse; this forest, under the command of her “dear one,” would not disturb her rest.

 

At last, they saw the glimmer of daylight approach, but it brought no relief to Celegorm.  Where was the Avari?  He had to have set at least some form of trap…ah.  There it is.

 

Just as they were about to break free into the open plains, the trees threw up a wall of tangled roots.  Huan crouched behind him, snarling at what was coming behind them.

 

And there was a great rush of things coming up behind them.  Twenty gigantic spawn of Ungoliant, each about as tall as Huan and twice as wide, encroached upon them.  On the back of the biggest and hairiest spider rode their adversary; Celegorm saw the bastard’s oily smile, and tiredly wished that this arrogant little Avari could have seen Sauron smile at a reconnaissance patrol a hundred years prior.  This just felt ridiculous.

 

“Oh,” Amras remarked airily.  “So that’s where all the spiders went.”

 

The forest elf threw his head back in a melodramatic laugh.  “Did you think that I learned to weave my web of darkness from that Ainu witch in Doriath?  No, I learned it from the source; feast upon their rotten corpses, my brethren!”

 

Celegorm gently laid Ireth upon the ground.  “This will only take a minute, dear one.”

 

***

 

When the White Lady of the Noldor awoke from an enchanted sleep, several hours later, it was to the smell of something awful burning.  She rose as slowly as she could, for there was a terrible pounding in her head, and a terrible dream that lingered at the back of her mind.

 

At her side was Celegorm, though not the Celegorm she had known in Aman.  His face she recognized, though his hair had turned stark white since the last time she had seen him up close, which was more years ago than she cared to count.  When he saw that she stirred, he immediately moved to help her up; she smiled, remembering how he had been aloof and gruff with nearly everyone save her.  She was thankful to see that some things had not changed.

 

“Are you well, Aredhel?” he asked gently, and the softness of his eyes made her heart melt.

 

The epessë he had given her in Aman, so many years ago, brought tears to her eyes.  Not even her brothers knew why she preferred that name to her given one.  “Very well, now that I have seen you again.  Ah, but I feel strange.  It is as if I have slept for two years, always under the spell of this ever-present nightmare.”

 

Celegorm’s face darkened slightly.  “Would that nightmare involve some bitter little wood-elf seducing you with the aid of black magic in an ill-fated attempt at revenge for his kin?  For two years?”

 

She blinked.  “That is…exactly what I dreamt.  I knew not that you had such a gift for mind-reading.”

 

“Rest assured, I do not.  I am, however, good at fighting that wood-elf in his element.  And telling on him to his contacts amid the dwarves, who are on much better terms with two of my brothers than with him.  And leaving him hog-tied right at the edge of the Girdle of Melian, with a very strongly-worded letter detailing just what he’s about under his liege’s very nose.”

 

“And killing spiders.”

 

“And at cooking them, just to let you know.”

 

Celegorm rolled his eyes, and threw the contents of his plate at his brothers who sat grinning by the campfire.  “Did I ask for your input?”

 

“You needn’t ask, our input comes free of charge!”

 

“Just give her some of your smoked spider-leg, brother!  She’ll have to marry you then!”

 

“SHUT UP!”

 

Ireth, named Aredhel, looked upon the flaming corpse set over the campfire, and shook her head in amazement.  “I’d always wondered what spider tasted like.  Is it so very like crab as I’ve been told?”

 

The twins grinned mischievously.  “Oh, brother, I think you should keep her.”

 

“Quite so.  Have a bite?”

 

Celegorm looked at his family in a mixture of joy and despair.  This was, unfortunately, very much like the hunts they had had back home, even more so with Aredhel by his side.  Perhaps, now that they were reunited, some things could continue as they had been, if only for a little while.

 

He contented himself with that, as he tried to fight a piece of carapace out of Huan’s teeth.  “No.  You cannot swallow that, boy, it will hurt you…”