Habeas Corpus by curufinweatarinke

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Habeas Corpus

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The first Curufin hears about the crime he’s supposed to have committed is from Maedhros.

“I told you that if you were going to kill someone, you need to have plausible deniability!” Maedhros says, waving a piece of paper in his face irritably. “This is a letter from Thingol demanding reparations for the disappearance and probable death of his kinsman!”

“Wait, what?” says Curufin, who has just woken up and is more than a little groggy as he stares at his breakfast.

Maedhros sighs, more out of exasperation than anger. “Wake up, it’s mid-morning and you cannot still be so sleepy.”

“I was up late seeing to your forge. It’s in a terrible state, your smith should be ashamed to call himself a Noldo,” Curufin replies, suppressing a yawn.

Maedhros clicks his tongue impatiently. Curufin hates him like he hates all morning people. He had come to Himring to bring his brother a newly designed prosthetic which had been promptly put on the rejected pile. Again. Curufin’s really not in the best mood with his brother right now.

“Why can’t you be more like Káno,” Maedhros says, gesturing with the letter to their brother who is tuning his harp in the corner, having visited at the same time as Curufin. “No one knows when he kills someone.”

Maglor looks up and grins. Curufin blinks. “Wait, who has Káno killed?” he asks.

“You see?” says Maedhros. “That’s what people should say about anyone you decide to murder. Honestly, I put so much effort into restoring our public image, the least you can do is not sabotage it.”

Curufin is still stuck on the revelation Maedhros tossed out so casually. “No, no, wait, who has Káno killed?”

Maedhros and Maglor exchange a glance, and both grin. “Never you mind,” says Maedhros, in a way that always makes Curufin feel about three years old, “let’s talk about your murder instead.”

“Yes, let’s,” Curufin says. “Because I’m not even sure who I’m supposed to have killed. Also please sit down, having to crane my neck up at you is really not conducive to my cooperation.”

Maedhros raises an eyebrow at his tetchiness - and really that’s so very rich coming from him - but sits at the table opposite him. “Eöl,” says Maedhros, “is missing, presumed dead. Last he was seen, he had a loud and public row with you at your fortress in Himlad, and then he disappeared.”

Curufin is almost speechless. “He went on to Gondolin! Searching for Aredhel! You aren’t seriously suggesting that I-“

“Your hatred of Eöl was well known,” Maedhros interrupts, massaging his forehead with his hand. “Were you not angry at him a few years ago for something?”

“He single-handedly made trade negotiations incredibly difficult with the dwarves of Nogrod!” Curufin hisses. “He married our cousin under dubious circumstances, and kept her in that forest!”

“Yes, so as I am saying,” Maedhros continues, “your hatred of him is well known and you are the last person that we know of to have seen him. Unless you can get confirmation from Gondolin that he arrived there, Thingol is going to continue sending me letters demanding reparations.” He puts his hand on the table. “Clean up your mess please, Curvo. And in future, ask Maglor for tips on effective alibis.”

“I didn’t kill him!” protests Curufin. “I’d tell you if I did! And, he might not even be dead!”

“Curvo, at this point I don’t care if you killed him or not. Just fix this, please?” Maedhros looks at Curufin’s almost untouched breakfast. “Are you eating that?”

“No,” sighs Curufin, “go ahead. It’s got mushrooms in it and I don’t like them.”

-

On his return to Himlad, Curufin arrives in time for dinner with Celegorm and Celebrimbor. At the table, Celebrimbor is eating with one hand and scribbling notes with another.

Curufin pokes at his salad. “-and then I said to Nelyo that I didn’t kill Eöl but I still don’t think he believes me.”

Celegorm is sat across from him with his chin in his hands. “So you need to clear your name?”

“Yes!” cries Curufin, stabbing at an apple piece with extreme prejudice. “Why is this in my salad? This doesn’t belong here.”

“While you were gone, we were able to experience a wide range of tasty dishes that don’t have to be pared down to appeal to your picky palate,” says Celegorm. “You’re how old and you still hate vegetables?”

Curufin makes a dismissive noise. “The point is, I am being accused of a crime I didn’t commit! I wish I had killed Eöl though.”

“Truly the words of an innocent,” says Celegorm dryly. “How are you planning on proving it?”

Curufin decides just to give up on his salad, and slides the bowl over to Celebrimbor who eagerly trades it for the rest of his meat. Curufin loves his son.

“I need some way to contact Gondolin and find out if Eöl actually made it there and if so, if he’s still there,” says Curufin finally. “But I don’t think we have any way of doing that with any particular speed...”

Celebrimbor clears his throat. “I might have a way of doing that.”

Curufin and Celegorm both turn to stare at him, and he blushes. “You remember Aredhel’s son, Maeglin? He sent me a carrier pigeon shortly after they went back to Gondolin, and we’ve been exchanging letters ever since.”

Curufin is gobsmacked. “You never said anything!”

“We’ve just been talking about smithing, don’t make that face!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

After several minutes of gentle ribbing from both Curufin and Celegorm, Celebrimbor is glowing crimson and staring at the table. “This is why I didn’t tell you!” he moans, hiding his face in his hands.

“I think your friendship is adorable, Tyelpë, and my life is improved knowing about it,” says Celegorm, grinning.

“Anyway, may I utilise your incredibly convenient bird?” asks Curufin. “I’m sure Maeglin can give a message to Turgon.”

“Yes, of course!”

-

Curufin writes a short, terse letter and signs and seals it, before handing it to Celebrimbor, who sends his pigeon off with it.

It takes several weeks to get a response, but finally Curufin receives a letter bearing Turgon’s seal. He eagerly unrolls it.

Celegorm and Celebrimbor both try to look over his shoulder at it, but he irritatedly waves them away. “I can’t do anything with you two looming over me!” he cries, before settling to read it. It bears both good and very bad news.

The good news is that Eöl is dead, and Curufin has a signed and sealed letter from Turgon saying that he had him executed. Problem solved!

The very bad news is that Eöl was executed for the slaying of Aredhel. They spend most of the afternoon in silence after that revelation, until Celegorm finally speaks.

“Wait, Tyelpë,” he says. Celebrimbor looks up from where he is moodily doodling what appears to be jewellery designs. “If you’ve been writing back and forth with Maeglin for months, how come you didn’t know Aredhel was dead?”

Curufin turns to stare at Celebrimbor, who blinks. “Well,” he says, “he didn’t mention it.”

“He didn’t mention it at all?” asks Curufin. “It seems like it would be important!”

“He seemed a bit sad in his first letter, but we quickly got caught up in a discussion of the iron quality in the mountains of Gondolin versus that of the mines closer to here, and how best to smelt and forge it to remove impurities,” replies Celebrimbor.

Curufin nods at this completely understandable explanation.

“What- Curvo don’t nod at him- this is not normal!” splutters Celegorm. “Bloody smiths.”

-

The upside that makes all his trouble worth it is the look on Maedhros’ face when Curufin waves Turgon’s signed and sealed confession in it.

Vindication.