Coming of Age in Beleriand by Ithilwen

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Chapter 1

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Coming of Age in Beleriand

"It's not fair! I did the cleaning up last night! Why should I have to do it again?"

Maedhros sighed. "Camp chores are not a matter of 'fair,' Tyelpë. They are a matter of getting the necessary work done. Your uncle Celegorm has told you –"

Celebrimbor threw the dishes in his arms down onto the ground, creating a clamor that roused Huan from slumber and startled the other three members of the hunting party, who were sitting around the fire cleaning tack and paying little heed to the small spat between their eldest and youngest family members. "I don't care! He's not my father to give me orders, and neither are you. You've all been picking on me all day, and I'm sick of it. Wash the stupid things yourself if you're so concerned about them being clean. I quit!" Choking back a sob of frustration and anger, he turned and ran off into the dense underbrush of the forest. Maedhros shook his head and sighed again, then knelt down and began to pick up and stack the scattered plates and utensils.

"I'm sorry, Russandol. Believe it or not, his father and I have been trying to teach him some manners – not that there's much to show for it yet." Celegorm had set his bit of harness aside and made his way over to help his eldest brother pick up the plates.

"Forty is a prickly age, little brother. You and Curufin are doing well, I'd say – he's still breathing, at least," Maedhros replied with a laugh. "If my young nephew was dwelling at Himring, I'd probably have used him for target practice by now. Still, he's not half as bad as you were at the same age, never mind his father! I suppose we shouldn't have laughed this afternoon when came off his horse over that jump and landed in the mud puddle; we wounded his adolescent Fëanorian pride, and he's been silently smarting from it ever since. Let him go off and sulk for a while; he'll be the better for it – and so will we. I can certainly see why Curufin wanted him out of his forge for a while, though! Remind me to repay Pityanárë for this little favor in the future, Celegorm. I can't inflict any brats of my own on him, alas; perhaps a few Orc captives would make an acceptable substitute?"

"That would hardly be a fair exchange; the Orcs we could at least skewer in good conscience, unlike our nephew." Celegorm stood up and carried the plates over to the wash pot, where he dropped them into the hot water to soak. "You're probably right about letting Celebrimbor cool off for a bit, Russandol," he said as he set to work scrubbing the metal plates clean of grime, "but I think it might be a good idea for one of us to follow him at a discrete distance, for safety's sake. Not that there's much chance of him running into anything fell this far south, but it is getting late, and Celebrimbor's woodscraft is not nearly as good as he likes to think it is. He could get lost out there…"

"Yes, I suppose Curufin might take it ill if we actually misplaced his wayward son for good, for all that he wants him out of his sight right now…" Maedhros looked over his shoulder to where the twins were polishing the last bits of newly-cleaned tack. "Amrod, Amras – would one of you mind playing nursemaid to our sulky nephew for a bit? I think he might take it better if, when he's found and retrieved, it's by one of his younger, less stodgy uncles."

Amrod laughed. "I'll go, Russandol. My legs could use a bit of stretching out."

"Take Huan –" Celegorm offered, but Amrod, laughing, waved the offer aside. "That's not necessary, big brother. I know these lands well enough to walk about them blindfolded. And besides," he continued, pointing to the trampled foliage and broken branches that marked Celebrimbor's passage into the undergrowth, "why bore your hound? Our nephew's hardly going to be a challenge to track."

*******

It's not fair! Celebrimbor kept thinking over and over as he stumbled and pushed his way through the thick brush, heedless of his surroundings. Father promised this trip was going to be fun! But instead all my uncles just keep picking on me… Why are they being so mean? They keep making me do all the worst chores. Don't they understand I didn't mean to drop that pitcher this morning? Or fall off my horse? And I'm tired of all of them lecturing me about tracking, and dressing game, and handling weaponry, like I know nothing! Uncle Maedhros can't even shoot a deer, much less skin one, so why does he think he can tell me anything at all about how to do it right? I wish I had never come on this stupid hunting trip!

Aching legs and a heaving chest finely forced him to come to a stop. His dash through the woods might have left him temporarily too winded to run any further, but it had done little to cool off his flare of temper. As he paused to catch his breath, he caught sight of a dead branch about the length of his forearm hanging limply from the lower limb of an oak tree. Celebrimbor snatched it and gave a quick jerk, snapping the branch off the limb, then, wielding it in the manner of a longsword, proceeded to vigorously lash at the surrounding bushes and trees. "Take that, Uncle Maedhros!" he shouted as he lunged forward to rattle the branches of a sumac plant. "And that's for you, Uncle Amras! This will teach you not to laugh at me!" The 'sword' resounded against an elm branch with a particularly satisfying thwack. "And now it's your turn, dear Uncle Celego-"

"Shedding your velvet a bit prematurely, aren't you, little hart?"

Celebrimbor spun around, branch raised in front of his chest in the guard position, and frantically scanned the forest looking for the source of that unfamiliar voice. Dappled light, yellowing leaves, tangles of half-bare branches… but no sign of a person. He reached down with his left hand and carefully drew his hunting knife, feeling his hand shake as the blade slipped from its sheath, and tried to steady his suddenly ragged breathing. There aren't supposed to be any Orcs around here! he told himself firmly. "Who are you? Show yourself!" He hoped his voice wasn't shaking too badly; it was hard to intimidate an enemy who knew you were afraid of him (or so his uncle Maedhros had told him in the past).

"Look up, Aras."

Celebrimbor tilted his head back, but it was a long moment before he spotted the lithe figure draped along a large beech branch overhead: a dark-haired Elf, clad in a tunic and leggings whose mottled muted-green-grey-brown pattern blended almost perfectly with the tree's bark. The stranger waved his hand at Celebrimbor's knife. "You can sheath that; I'm not dangerous. Fortunately for you. I could have shot you, if I was." The strange Elf suddenly slipped sideways and dropped off the branch, landing almost silently and perfectly balanced on his feet just a little more than arm's length from Celebrimbor. Now that he could see the other's face more clearly, Celebrimbor was startled to discover the stranger was a young man not much older than himself. He moved with a sure grace that left Celebrimbor envious, though. The stranger stood quietly, waiting.

Celebrimbor sheathed his knife and slowly dipped the branch down. "I'm Celebrimbor, son of Lord Curufin of Aglon. What's your name? And why do you keep calling me a deer?"

"I have no name," the stranger said, smiling. "Well, not such as yours. My people receive our true names when we wed, for only then are we seen as fully adult. Until that time we are called by no fixed name, just nicknames or 'son or daughter-of-So-and-So'. You may call me Nolpa, if you like."

"'Mole'? You want me to call you 'Mole'? What kind of a name is that?"

The stranger shrugged. "Call me whatever you like, then. My family mostly calls me Nolpa now, because I am dark, and small for my age, and quiet, and very hard to spot unless I wish to be seen. What kind of a name is 'Silver-fist'? You distant kin from across the sea, even your names ring of violence! Aras suits you better, for you are as beautiful as a young deer, and when you were thrashing those bushes after your argument with your uncles you looked to me very like a young buck beating his tines against the branches to strip them of their velvet and ready them for war. But it's at least one moon too early for the rut to begin, and in any case I think you're still too young to face those particular stags openly in battle and win. Besides, Aras, they mean you well, and it's never good to quarrel with your family."

"You heard that?" Celebrimbor looked down, as he felt the blood rushing into his face.

Nolpa laughed warmly. "It was rather hard to miss." He reached out and clapped his hand on Celebrimbor's arm. "I have a small camp nearby. Why don't you come back there with me? It's going to be full dark soon, and in your anger you ran quite a long way from your campsite. We can talk in comfort around my fire, and in the morning I'll see your feet set safely back on the path to your own people." Sensing Celebrimbor's reluctance, he added, "Your uncles know these woods are safe enough, and you are no mere child, but nearly a man grown. They will not be concerned. And all day they've been badgering you to learn this and that, have they not? This is an opportunity for amassing new knowledge I do not think they would wish you to squander. Besides – I have food there."

"But I just ate –" Celebrimbor replied at precisely the same moment his stomach let out a loud rumble. Nolpa laughed again and grasped Celebrimbor's hand.

"So that's settled, then! We'll dine together on the gifts the forest gave me this day, and teach each other about our respective peoples. Come, it's not far." Not waiting for an answer, he turned and began to lead Celebrimbor deeper into the forest.

"You are one of the Laiquendi, aren't you?" Celebrimbor asked his companion as they made their way through the tangled undergrowth. The other Elf nodded.

"That is what your people call us, yes. We have other names for ourselves. I do not need to ask your kin, Aras, for even had you not already told me your name, the fire in your eyes would give your birth away. Do you have any idea how beautiful your eyes are, lachenn? How beautiful your people are? So tall and proud and fierce, so arrogant and fell! How could we not love you?"

Before Celebrimbor could think of a reply, Nolpa pulled him forward and the two Elves stepped together into a small clearing. On the opposite side of the clearing, beneath the canopy of a large chestnut tree, stood a simple lean-to built of branches lashed together with vines and roofed with leaves; a slender bow and a birchbark quiver rested against the tree trunk, and dangling from one of the branches, high enough off the ground to be safe from any predators, was a brace of rabbits. "Here we are," Nolpa said. "Not nearly as grand as your uncles' camp, but comfortable enough. We'll dine on coney and sweet roasted chestnuts, with fresh berries for dessert. Why don't you get a fire started, while I clean the rabbits? I've stacked some dry kindling next to my shelter."

"I don't have my flint striker with me."

Nolpa was already busy cutting down the rabbits; the knife he was using, Celebrimbor noticed with interest, had a strange black blade that glittered like glass, rather than the silvery grey steel he was accustomed to. "No matter," Nolpa replied absently, "I've a bow and drill in the shelter; you can use that."

Celebrimbor was glad Nolpa had his back turned toward him, so he couldn't see the deep flush of embarrassment that was suddenly warming his face. "I… I don't really know how to use of those," he admitted to his host in a small voice. "I mean, my uncle Celegorm has tried to teach me a few times, but I never really got the hang of it…" Nolpa turned around, rabbits in hand, and the look of astonishment on his face was plain to see. "You must think me a fool," Celebrimbor continued, hanging his head in shame.

Nolpa stared at Celebrimbor for a long moment, then tucked his knife back into his waistbelt. Walking over to Celebrimbor's side, he put one hand beneath Celebrimbor's chin and forced him to raise his head and meet his gaze. "I think you have spent most of your life surrounded by stone walls and machines," Nolpa replied softly, "while I have spent mine here beneath the trees. No doubt if I came into your home, it is I who would look the fool." He pushed the rabbits into Celebrimbor's hands. "You can clean the rabbits, then, and I'll light the fire." And then, to Celebrimbor's complete astonishment, Nolpa suddenly leaned forward and placed a light, quick kiss on his lips. To the young Noldo's horror, his resulting deep flush was only partially borne of embarrassment. When Nolpa left to gather his bow and drill, Celebrimbor forced himself to look up at the stars, just then emerging from the twilight, and desperately willed the unwanted tingling in his body to go away, without much success. Eventually he gave up and headed over to the other side of the clearing to prepare the rabbits for cooking, holding them low in front of his body as he walked in order to hide his (humiliating and totally inappropriate) erection from sight.

To Celebrimbor's great relief, by the time he finished with the rabbits his unwanted erection had subsided. He helped Nolpa suspend the carcasses over the flames to cook, and then gathered and cracked chestnuts which they pushed near the edges of the small fire to roast. Then the two Elves sat down side by side and talked while they waited for their meal to cook. "Is this how your people always live?" Celebrimbor asked, gesturing toward the simple lean-to. "No buildings at all?"

"This is how we live when we are traveling," Nolpa replied. "Most of the time we live in hide tents, and sometime on platforms high up in the trees. But no, we make no fixed homes, for we move our families often and we do not wish to scar the land. I have heard tales of your great cities full of buildings, but I cannot imagine what it would be like to live in one. To me, they sound like a cage! How do you stand it?"

"Buildings aren't so bad, really," Celebrimbor answered. "They are warm, and dry, and we put large holes in the walls - windows, we call them - to let the sunlight in. They feel snug and safe. To me, living in a tent feels strange – almost like I'm somehow naked under the sky."

"And what would be wrong with that?" Nolpa replied, laughing. "Is that not how our people began, long ago by the Waters of Awakening? Tell me, Aras – what exactly do you do in these cities of yours? How do you spend your days?"

"Well, I guess we mostly do the same things your people do: grow and prepare food, make clothes and tools and art, teach our children. Some of us study the world, try to figure things out so we can make new and different things. My father, for instance, is always trying to invent new types of metals and gems, and he's teaching me his craft. I've been spending a lot of time learning to shape metals, and soon he's going to begin to teach me gemcraft as well. Who knows – maybe someday I'll make a jewel even more beautiful than the ones my grandfather is so famous for."

Nolpa leaned forward and, taking up a stick, rolled several chestnuts away from the fire. "Let them cool for a few moments, or you'll burn your fingers. Your words are strange, Aras; I think despite what you say, our lives must be very different indeed. My people store and prepare food, as everyone must, but never do we grow it. We leave that to the forest. We sing and dance, make jewelry and carve small ornaments, but fashion nothing of metal. I do not understand why your father does what he does, or why you would want to follow his path." He reached over and picked up two chestnuts, tossed one to Celebrimbor, and quickly shelled the other one. "To me it sounds like your buildings and engines own you, rather than the other way around. But perhaps I do not understand only because I have never seen a city. Those gems your grandfather made, the ones you fight our Enemy for – you have actually seen them? What do they look like?" He popped the chestnut into his mouth and chewed, all the while looking at Celebrimbor thoughtfully.

"I have seen them, but it's hard for me to remember much about them; I was very small when our Silmarils were stolen. Like stars, I remember them being, but warmer and even more beautiful. It made your heart swell somehow to look upon them." Celebrimbor let out a wistful sign. "I wish we had them back."

"They sound lovely – but why did your grandfather make them? Were there not enough stars already in the sky?"

"I don't know. He just did. The stars were hard to see in Aman, though; the light from the Two Trees drowned them out. Maybe that's why he made them, so we would have stars we could see whenever we wanted to view them."

Nolpa smiled. "The glowing trees I almost wish I could have seen, but I do not think I would want to live in a land where you could not see the stars. I remember the first time we could not see them, when the sun first rose. Like you, I was very little, but I remember how terrified my family was on that first dawn. The only thing we could think of which could make such a light was a great fire; we thought the forest was surely about to burn down around us, and so we ran away in terror. But we could not run fast enough. The light grew stronger and stronger until it enveloped us, and we cried aloud in terror, but no flames came, and then we saw the new lamp rising high in the sky over our heads and wondered at it. Too hot, we thought it, and too fierce, and we mourned for our beloved stars, which we did not think we would ever see again. But as we watched, the new lamp slowly moved across the sky and sank behind the trees, and the sky darkened once more, and soon our beautiful stars were back and we were happy again. And when the new lamp rose again the next morning, we were no longer afraid of it, for we understood it would soon go away. Of course in time we grew as fond of the new lights as we ever were of the old ones. Now we sing in praise at dawn – but we still love our stars, which lit these woods so well for so long. I think our rabbits are done. Shall we eat?"

His attention brought back to the here and now, Celebrimbor abruptly realized he was hungrier than he'd thought as he breathed in the scent of the perfectly roasted meat. Nolpa handed him one skewered carcass, then brought forth from the lean-to a small basket of blackberries and a stoppered leather flask filled with cool water, and for a while the two young Elves put conversation aside in favor of savoring the simple meal. "Thank you," Celebrimbor said after he wiped the last traces of grease off his lips. "That was delicious. I wish I had something to give you in return as payment – wait, I know." He unbuckled his belt and pulled his hunting knife off of it and held it out to Nolpa. "Take this."

Nolpa shook his head. "Keep it. You paid me already, with your stories. I don't need your knife as well."

"But I'd really like you to have it!"

"I have a better idea." Nolpa pulled out his own strange knife. "Let's trade. Then each of us will have something more than just strange tales to remember the other by."

"All right."

The two knives traded hands, and for a long moment Celebrimbor carefully studied his new weapon. He quickly saw that, for all the simplicity of its components, his new knife was anything but crude. The wooden handle had been carefully shaped to balance the blade perfectly, and was as smooth and comfortable to hold as his old knife had been. The black blade had indeed been chipped from a large piece of volcanic glass, and had a wickedly keen edge; the wrapped sinew and resin glue which fastened it to the handle seemed as secure as any Noldor tang. He looked up to see that Nolpa was also admiring his new knife, carefully turning it over in his hands. "I wish I could see how such a thing as this is made," Nolpa said wistfully. "To see one of your cities, just once, so I could say that once I was there…"

"You could come back with my uncles and me, when our trip here is over. I'm sure my uncles wouldn't mind. I could show you my father's forge and –"

Nolpa shook his head sadly. "I wish I could go with you, Aras, but I cannot. I will be wedded within a moon, and no longer free to travel so very far."

"Wedded?" The word came out as a squeak as Celebrimbor's voice (which still hadn't quite settled completely into its adult register) broke, surely an effect of his shock. "But… You're not much older than me, surely? And I'm only 40. That means you're much too young to marry!"

"I think we are touching on another difference between my people and yours," Nolpa said with a sad smile. "I am 46, and by my people's reckoning overdue to be wed. Most of my same-age friends have been married for two or three years now. We are expected to marry almost as soon as we are capable of making a bond."

Celebrimbor leaned back slightly and closed his eyes, trying to picture himself marrying in a mere three years' time. Why, he'd barely even begun to think of girls as anything more than simply pests! To know he'd have to fall in love with just the right person in so short a time… He opened his eyes again and shook his head. "My people almost never marry before we turn 50; many of us don't wed until we're well past 100. I'm glad; I would hate to feel so much pressure to meet the right girl that fast. It's reassuring to know I'll have enough time to be certain I'm truly in love before I have to make such a binding commitment."

"I have never met the woman I am going to marry, Aras."

"But… but… Nolpa! That's crazy! How can you even consider marrying a girl you've never even seen?" Celebrimbor didn't even make an attempt to hide his disapproval. "That you don't even know? You can't possibly go through with it!"

"I almost certainly will go through with it. Almost all of my people do." Before Celebrimbor could protest again, Nolpa silenced him with a raised hand. "It's nothing so dire as you are probably imagining. I have never met Niphredil, but my own mother knows her parents very well, and my kin and hers have been considering this match for many years. They are all in agreement that we two are likely to suit each other well. Niphredil and I will have a chance to meet and talk with each other for several days before the planned ceremony; if either of us takes a strong dislike to the other, we can refuse to marry and our families will accept it. But that rarely happens. It is more likely than not that we will wed, and then we will have the rest of the life of Arda to come to know each other in fullness."

"I feel sorry for you," Celebrimbor said slowly, his voice sad. "At least I will get to choose my own wife, and marry for love."

"If you marry. Look at your uncles," Nolpa chided gently. "I know from your eyes that you are a lover of fire, Aras, but before you pity me too much remember that the flame you seek can scorch as well as warm, and it can also blow out. And as your uncles prove, sometimes the spark may not catch at all. I think I like my own people's way better."

"And I prefer the Noldor's. Which I suppose is best, since we are who we are. What a misery it would be for us both if our preferences were otherwise!" Celebrimbor stretched and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. "Look how high Remmirath is in the sky! We'd probably better start thinking about getting some sleep. I'll help you clean up."

Nolpa rose to his feet. "There is little to do. I'll carry the bones away from our camp and discard them where they'll attract no predators; you can put the basket and water back into the corner over there. The fire we can leave to burn out on its own; it's small, and won't take long to die." He bent over and picked up the remains of the roasted rabbits, and strode confidently out into the darkness of the forest.

After Nolpa left, Celebrimbor also stood up. He quickly tucked the empty wicker basket and the bottle flash back into the far corner of the lean-to, then decided to step off into the bushes and relieve himself. When he came back into the clearing, Nolpa had not yet returned. Celebrimbor looked over the sleeping arrangements with a growing feeling of dismay. The lean-to, though he supposed it was ample enough for one, looked barely big enough to fit two: tight quarters. Too tight, he thought as he suddenly remembered his earlier bout of unwelcome arousal. I certainly don't want to chance that happening again! Well, at least there are two sleeping skins; I can leave the lean-to to Nolpa and sleep bundled up by the fire, unless he'd prefer it the other way around…

"What are you thinking about?"

Silent as a hunting cat, Nolpa had snuck up behind him unnoticed while he was lost in his thoughts. "Where we're both going to sleep," Celebrimbor answered. "That lean-to is going to be too cramped for both of us. Would you prefer the fire or –"

"Nonsense. There's room inside for us both." Celebrimbor felt fingertips gently brush his cheek and ear, then the faint touch of Nolpa's breath on his skin, followed by a soft kiss. To his horror, he felt himself becoming tumescent again. What am I going to do? Celebrimbor thought in dismay as Nolpa stepped past him and began to pull off his tunic. I can't possibly sleep next to him now!

Nolpa, his tunic now off, noticed that his companion wasn't moving, and came back over to Celebrimbor's side. He took the younger Elf's hand and tried to encourage him to walk toward the lean-to. Feeling Celebrimbor's tension, he asked in a voice filled with honest concern, "What's wrong, Aras?"

"I… I… Oh, I can't explain it!" Celebrimbor groaned. "It's too shameful. I have a… a problem… which is only going to get worse if I crawl into that tight space with you. I'll just stay out here by the fire."

"A problem? You mean this?" And to Celebrimbor's dismay, Nolpa reached down with his free hand to gently cup the younger Elf's growing erection. "That's hardly what I'd call a problem, Aras," he said, grinning. "A gift, rather! And a well-timed one at that. Let's not waste it."

"Waste it? I'm not supposed to be having it!" Celebrimbor cried out as he pulled back. "It's wrong!"

"Wrong?" Nolpa, to Celebrimbor's surprise, seemed honestly confused. "How is it wrong to feel desire?"

"Ilúvatar gave sexual desire to us for the begetting of children in marriage," Celebrimbor whispered, deeply ashamed. "To feel it, let alone act on it, at any other time is wrong."

"Who told you that vile lie, Celebrimbor?" Celebrimbor was so shocked by anger in Nolpa's voice that he didn't even notice that for the first time that night, Nolpa had called him by his actual name.

"The Valar… the Vanyar… the scholars and loremasters of the Noldor… everyone. It's what my people know to be true," he stammered.

"I had always heard your people were wise," Nolpa replied, his voice softer. "Far wiser than us, for did they not dwell once with the very Powers of Arda? But clearly I was wrong. That's the most ridiculous bit of nonsense I have ever heard in my life!"

Celebrimbor shook his head sharply. "It's not nonsense! It's what my father and uncles have taught me!"

"It's nonsense all the same," Nolpa replied very firmly. He stepped close again and took both of Celebrimbor's hands into his own squeezing them gently. "Listen to me, Celebrimbor Curufinion: wrong is what harms another, or yourself. How would acting on your desire with me harm either of us? It's just a bodily reaction, no different in kind than any other. When you feel hunger, you eat. When you are tired, you sleep. When your bladder is full, you empty it. How is this any different? You don't feel shame when you are hungry or sleepy or need to urinate; you should not feel shame now because you are sexually aroused."

"But… but… you're a man, not a woman! Why should I be feeling any desire for you at all?"

"Do you only like one kind of food?" Nolpa answered gently. "I thought I saw you eat rabbit and chestnuts and berries tonight. You feel desire for me because your body likes what it sees. Most people feel desire for many different people, male and female, not just one. I generally prefer males, but that is neither here nor there… The act that bonds bodies and souls together and leads to children I will only do with Niphredil, but there are other ways of satisfying desire as well, and those I will do as seems good to me, both before and after I am wed. As will she. That is the wisdom of my people, Noldo."

"I had not thought of it in that way before," Celebrimbor replied in a small voice.

"That much is obvious," Nolpa said, smiling again. "I was not bothered very much by desire until I was about your age; I suspect that is true for most males. Until fairly recently, you had no reason to question those faulty childhood teachings. Now come. Time to learn a new thing." He began to walk backwards slowly, still gripping Celebrimbor's hands, gently pulling him over to the lean-to. "Let's get you out of these clothes. I promise you, Aras," he whispered into Celebrimbor's ear as he unbuckled the younger Elf's belt and let it fall to the ground, "that I will do nothing to you that you do not want me to do. If at any time you wish me to stop, simply say so and I will. If that means we do nothing more than sleep naked side-by-side tonight, that is fine." He helped Celebrimbor pull off his tunic and unlace his leggings, then left Celebrimbor alone to complete the rest of the process on his own while he swiftly removed what was left of his own clothing.

Naked at last under the starlight, the two Elves assessed each other, Celebrimbor nervously and Nolpa appreciatively. "A young stag you are indeed," Nolpa murmured as his eyes took in the sight of the younger Elf's smooth form, marred only by a half-flaccid erection which was visibly wilting under the dual assault of anxiety and the cool night air. "Never let anyone tell you that you are not beautiful, Aras." He ducked into the lean-to pulled back the topmost fur, and slid himself into place in the back half of the lean-to. Patting the empty spot beside him, Nolpa called out to Celebrimbor, "Come lie down here next to me; you'll find it warmer." When Celebrimbor obediently stretched out on his side beside him, he tossed the top fur over them both and slowly pressed his body up against the other Elf. He could feel Celebrimbor shaking, and knew the chill of the night air was not entirely responsible for that reaction.

"Now what?" Celebrimbor whispered. "I don't really know what to do next, Nolpa. I... I guess I'm a little frightened."

"Of course you are," Nolpa said tenderly. "I was terrified the first time I lay with another person." He kissed the tip of Celebrimbor's ear, then gently placed his arm over Celebrimbor's shoulder and across his chest, feeling the younger Elf stiffen at the contact. "Just lie back against me and relax. Breathe." He waited patiently until he began to feel the tension in Celebrimbor's body start to seep away. "That's it, just relax…" Nolpa slowly began to stroke his fingers across the smooth, soft skin of Celebrimbor's chest. "Now close your eyes and concentrate on your body. Feel the softness of the furs, the movement of my skin against yours, notice how good those things feel…"

Still continuing to gently stroke Celebrimbor, Nolpa shifted position slightly, allowing the younger Elf to roll onto his back so he could more easily bring his other hand and his mouth into play. He began to plant kisses on Celebrimbor's chest, then worked his way up over his neck to his face, some kisses soft and quick, some, lingering, some more urgent and demanding. "Tell me if something feels especially nice," he whispered as he passed his lips over Celebrimbor's ear, "so I'll know to keep on doing it."

"All right," Celebrimbor whispered back, followed by a louder gasp as Nolpa's hand tweaked one of his nipples.

"Like that, do you?" He tugged the nipple again.

"Yes," Celebrimbor breathed. "Please don't stop." He reached up and placed one of his hands atop Nolpa's, and with the other grasped the back of Nolpa's head and drew it down to his chest.

"Oh, there's no chance of that happening now," Nolpa answered. "You are far too delicious, Aras, for me to leave you alone." He took Celebrimbor's other nipple into his mouth and sucked on it, eliciting a deep moan from the younger Elf, while allowing his free hand to drift steadily lower down Celebrimbor's body, caressing ribs, flank, belly, feeling his lover shivering under his touch, not in anxiety this time, but in mounting excitement. Finally he reached down to stroke Celebrimbor's inner thighs, then shifted slightly to allow his own lengthening erection to lie on Celebrimbor's leg while his hand moved to encircle the other's now-engorged organ.

Nolpa squeezed and mouthed Celebrimbor's nipples while relentlessly rubbing the rock-hard erection with his other hand, and listened to the resulting gasps and cries with satisfaction. "Why, I think I may have found the Noldor's lost silver tree," he whispered to his lover. "Shall I take a look to be sure?" He slipped beneath the furs and quickly took Celebrimbor's member into his mouth, eliciting another deep moan in the process.

Nolpa knew from the way his lover was beginning to shake underneath him that Celebrimbor wasn't going to last much longer. He pulled his mouth off of Celebrimbor's erection for a moment, and quickly wet his finger in his mouth. As he took Celebrimbor's organ back into his mouth again, he parted Celebrimbor's buttocks and gently slid his moistened finger inside his lover's anus. Quickly he felt for the subtle bulge of the young elf's prostate and began to rub it firmly, relentlessly, while sliding his lips and tongue up and down over Celebrimbor's tumescence, over and over. Any moment now…

And Celebrimbor's hips suddenly bucked up and he let out a cry that could almost have been mistaken for an expression of pain and Nolpa felt his member throb and spurt, filling his mouth with the bitter taste of semen. Two spurts, three, four… and then it was over, and he felt Celebrimbor's body go limp under him and his erection begin to wilt in his mouth. Nolpa pulled his head away and spat the semen out, then, cradling his own aching erection in his hand, slid back up between the sleeping furs and laid his own body close against the sweat-slicked skin of his still-dazed lover. He stroked Celebrimbor's cheek and asked softly. "Now you know desire fulfilled, Aras. How did you like it?"

Celebrimbor slowly came back to himself. "You need to ask?" He shook his head in amazement. "I will never forget that, Nolpa – never. Thank you."

"No one ever forgets their first time," Nolpa replied, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on Celebrimbor's cheek. "So I am glad it was good for you. But now it's time for you to thank me properly…" He reached for Celebrimbor's hand and guided it down to touch his own erection. "Take it in your hand. More firmly, that's it, you won't hurt me. Now slide your hand… ahhh, that's good, a little faster… oh, you have a silver fist indeed… don't stop…"

And then it was Celebrimbor's turn to watch as his lover slowly lost himself in the pleasure of the moment, to thrill at the power in his hand, which could wring out a moan of ecstasy from Nolpa by a simple twist of his wrist. He kept his eyes fixed on Nolpa's face as he moved his hand, watching with fascination as his lover's expression softened and his eyes slowly because unfocused, as though Nolpa was looking at something only he could see. Celebrimbor wrapped his other arm around Nolpa and pulled him tight against himself, enjoying the feel of his lover's increasing trembling. When Nolpa finally came, it was with a low groan; his back arched and he threw his head up and in that moment his face went slack and his eyes became wide and empty, as though his spirit had left his body together with the seed Celebrimbor suddenly felt squirting onto his skin. But it only lasted an instant, and then Celebrimbor looked again at his lover's face and saw Nolpa there once more, with a dreamy smile of satisfaction on his lips. Nolpa slowly draped himself across Celebrimbor's chest, letting his head rest on Celebrimbor's shoulder like a sleepy child. "Ahhh, Aras, that was lovely."

"I should have used my mouth, as you did on me."

"Next time, perhaps."

"Next time?"

"Next time." Nolpa put his hand down between Celebrimbor's legs and stroked him, and suddenly Celebrimbor felt a now-familiar tightness beginning to build again in his groin. "I'm sorry, Aras," Nolpa said in a voice that didn't sound sorry at all, "but the rut has come early after all, it seems, and I'm afraid neither of us is going to be getting much rest tonight."

He was right. It was nearly dawn before the two young lovers, their limbs and bodies wrapped around each other in a pleasurable tangle, at last allowed themselves to drift from bliss into sleep.

*******

When Celebrimbor woke up, at first he did not know where he was. A roof of dry leaves and sticks overhead, coarse fur prickling his skin instead of soft blankets, a mingled smell of sweat and… something else, something he didn't quite recognize. He did remember the wild dreams he'd had, and shook his head ruefully at the thought of them – but then as he sat up he realized there was something cold and wet on his skin, and as he pulled the furs back he saw the stickiness on his chest and suddenly recognized that distinctive odor, and realized in a rush that those dreams had been no dreams at all, but memories. He looked over to the spot where his lover had been lying when they fell asleep together, but it was empty; he was alone in the lean-to. "Nolpa?" he called out. "Where are you?"

"Gone. He left about half an hour ago; it's their way. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up, Tyelpë. Hurry up; it's getting late."

Celebrimbor closed his eyes and swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling sick. No. No, no, no! That voice was not the one he'd been hoping to hear. Quite the opposite; he knew that voice all too well, it belonged to his uncle Amrod. "Go away!" he shouted. "I'm not going to go back with you."

"Suit yourself," the voice replied lightly. "But before you make up your mind you might want to consider that if you don't want to deal with me, sooner or later you will be dealing with Maedhros and Celegorm; they have Huan, and he'll have no trouble tracking you down – not that that would be a challenge in your current reeking state. And I would remind you it's his hand Maedhros has lost, not his nose. He'll know what you were up to last night as soon as he gets a whiff of you. I, on the other hand, am willing to head back to our camp via a detour at the nearby creek where you can wash ere you meet your doom, so my big, bad elder brothers will never know your terrible secret." Suddenly the morning sunlight streaming into the lean-to was blocked by a shadowy kneeling figure. Amrod was holding out his hand. "So, which is it to be?"

Celebrimbor ignored the proffered hand. He forced himself to look straight at his uncle's face as he said sullenly, "Let's just get it over with now. Go ahead and lecture me; I won't listen. I'm not sorry I did it. I'd do it again, if I could."

"I would certainly hope so," his uncle answered. "Judging from the sounds you were making last night, your young Laiquende friend was a good lover. You'd be foolish to pass up the chance of spending a second night with him." Amrod laughed as he watched the look of sullen, belligerent defiance on his nephew's face abruptly disappear, to be replaced by an expression of total, disbelieving shock. "Varda's tits, Tyelpë, surely you didn't think you were the only Noldo to ever discover that our learned scholars' beloved teachings on the true nature of our sexuality contain a few… er, how shall we put it… technical errors?"

"You're not angry? For real?"

"No, Tyelpë. I'm not angry." Amrod reached into the lean-to, grabbed his nephew's forearm firmly, and started to pull him onto his feet. "Now will you please get moving? The others expected me to return with you yesterday night. They may already be out looking for us – and while I know Amras wouldn't be any more upset to learn about your amorous activities last night than I was, I honestly don't know how Celegorm and Maedhros would react, and I'd rather we not find out. "

Celebrimbor gave in to the inevitable and climbed out of the lean-to. "I don’t see why it matters so much. Uncle Maedhros is going to kill me in any case," he mumbled as he quickly pulled on his leggings and boots.

"No, he's not," Amrod replied. "Oddly enough, he's not all that angry with you either. You're also not the only Noldo who's ever been 40, Tyelpë. Still, an apology from you wouldn't be taken amiss by him, I suspect. You were wretchedly rude to him yesterday. Don't bother with the rest; you're dressed enough. You're only going to be stripping it all back off in a few minutes anyway. Now let's go!" He set off in the direction of the creek, walking fast enough that Celebrimbor had to scramble a bit to keep up.

The water in the small creek was fast-flowing and cold, and Celebrimbor's teeth chattered as he hurriedly washed the previous day's accumulation of grime off his body. But he had to admit his uncle was right: he had been in dire need of a bath. Besides, it just plain felt good to be clean. Amrod, to his surprise, had joined him in the creek. To Celebrimbor's further surprise, his uncle's haste seemed to have been washed away by their bracing morning dip; once he was fully clad, Amrod tossed him some lembas and strips of dried meat from his waist pouch ("For breakfast; you look like you could use some") and set a positively leisurely pace as they walked together back through the woods. Unable to control his curiosity any longer, Celebrimbor finally worked up the nerve to ask, "Uncle Amrod… what you said earlier… how did you learn…?"

"That our scholars' beloved 'Laws and Customs' is a steaming load of horse droppings?" Amrod laughed. "The same way most Noldor learn it, I suppose: direct experimentation. I'm willing to bet that the majority of the male population of Tirion uses their hands from time to time to relieve their tension; scolding's a weak opponent to set against an orgasm. They just feel terribly guilty afterwards, and resolve to try harder to avoid the evil temptation the next time – not that it helps any. But my brother and I were lucky; we spent our youth not in stuffy Tirion, as all my poor elder brothers did, but in Formenos. No visiting Valar or Vanyar there, Mother and Indis were nowhere about, and Father had other things on his mind, so we two were spared the full indoctrination and left to run positively wild. Then we find ourselves here, the principle representatives of the Noldor to the Laiquendi and with orders from Maedhros to do whatever was necessary to win over the good will of these people. Well, no ambassador ever got far by scorning the local customs! That successfully performing our necessary diplomatic duties turned out to be unexpectedly pleasurable – well, that was just an added bonus."

Amrod stopped walking and faced Celebrimbor for a moment, and his expression turned from light to far more serious. "One thing you should know, nephew; just because our customs may not be right doesn't mean most of our people don't take them seriously. Right or wrong, they're our customs, and for most Noldor that's reason enough to continue to support them. Many of us have an altogether unappealing and arrogant certainty of our cultural superiority over the supposedly 'primitive' people of these lands, never stopping to consider that there might be things we could profitably learn from them. And some people, like my brother Maedhros, when they fail to live up to an impossible ideal are quick to conclude the fault lies not in the ideal itself but with their own efforts in striving to achieve it. You got lucky last night, Tyelpë. Be very, very discrete in any future liaisons, at least until you're legally of age, or you might find your life becoming quite unpleasant indeed."

Celebrimbor shivered, and not from the lingering morning chill in the air. "I will be," he said, thinking about just how miserable the next ten years of his life could be made to be if his father was sufficiently provoked. "Maybe I don't always think ahead as much as I should, but I'm not actually suicidal. I doubt I'll have any more chances on this trip anyway – and once I'm back home, I promise I'll stick to my hand. It can't tattle."

"Good idea," Amrod answered. He put an arm around Celebrimbor's shoulder. "Ten years is not forever, even if right now it feels like it. And besides, I have a suspicion that it won't be more than a yén or so before 'Laws and Customs' is seen as nothing more than a quaint historical relic. Our people are already intermarrying with the other Sindar, if not yet the Laiquendi, and children are even now being born who'll see Aman and its customs as nothing more than tales in books. Someday they'll outnumber us Noldor fossils who actually remember the Valar and their teachings firsthand. This land is going to change us in the end every bit as much as we thought we were going to change it, just you see. It's already started: just look at what language we're speaking. The world you're going to live in as an adult, Tyelpë, is going to be very different from the one my brothers and I grew up in. When Morgoth is defeated and we've won back what is ours, who knows what people will do? Explore east over the mountains, perhaps, where we'll probably discover even stranger customs? Amras and I have already thought about taking Laiquendi wives when we're at peace and finally free to wed. It's going to be a new world for you, Tyelpë, and for my own future children. Make the most of it."

Off in the distance a horn sounded. "Celegorm's getting impatient," Amrod said, laughing. "All those deer to kill, and he's stuck waiting around in camp on account of his nephew and his frivolous younger brother. Come on- I'll race you back to camp. Last one there has to clean up after Huan for a week." He took off at a dead run, Celebrimbor following closely at his heels, and the together the two Elves raced through the light-dappled forest to rejoin their waiting kin.

---

Chapter End Notes

Tyelpë – "Silver." A shortened form of Celebrimbor's Quenya name Tyelpinquar ("Silver-fist").

Russandol – "Copper-top." A nickname given to Maedhros by his family, in reference to his coppery-red hair.

Pityanárë – "Small flame." A nickname given by my Maedhros to his younger brother Curufin in acknowledgement of Curufin's mental and physical resemblance to their father Fëanor.

lachenn – "Flame-eyed." A term used by various Moriquendi groups to refer to a Noldo, because the light of Aman could be seen in the Noldor's eyes.

Remmirath – The Netted Stars (probably the Pleiades, but they could also be the Hyades).

yén – An Elven 'long year', equal to 144 years of the sun.

About my conception of the Laiquendi in this tale: I didn't spend hours pouring over HoME before writing this fic, but I can say with confidence that nothing in the way I've depicted the Laiquendi (also called the Nandor or the Green-Elves of Ossiriand) here violates what Tolkien wrote in the published version of The Silmarillion. He writes of them that "they became a people apart, unlike their kin" (at the end of the chapter "Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor"), and that "they were a woodland people, and had no weapons of steel" ("Of the Sindar"), that "(their) woodcraft… was such that a stranger might pass through their land from end to end and see none of them" and that "they were clad in green in spring and summer" ("Of Beleriand and Its Realms"), suggesting they were masters of camouflage. Accordingly, I decided to cast them as a wandering hunter-gatherer people living with an essentially Neolithic level of technology, so that both their manner of living and their social mores are about as different from those of the technophilic, scientific, intellectual Noldor as it's possible for two Elven groups to be. The Nandor dropped out of the Great Journey to Aman at a very early point, and did not cross the Ered Luin in to Beleriand until quite late; I see their society as a slow evolution of the original "primitive" Elvish culture of Cuiviénen before the Valar arrived and began to personally instruct the Quendi (for better and worse).

Part of the fun of this story, of course, was messing around with that bugaboo of Silmfic writers everywhere: "Laws and Customs among the Eldar" (LACE). Everyone who writes Silmarillion fanfiction eventually has to think seriously about what that essay is intended to mean and who in the Ardaverse actually wrote it. What follows is my Ithilwenverse take on the mechanics of Elven sexuality: LACE is kinda, sorta accurate. When a male Elf and a female Elf have penile-vaginal intercourse for the first time, it creates a bond between the couple that is both physiological (via pheremones, perhaps?) and spiritual, and which lasts for the rest of the two Elves' lives. The Valar can break it (as they do for Finwë and Míriel) or prevent it from forming in the first place (as Morgoth does when he meddles with his 'toys'; pity the poor Orcs and the captives laboring in Angband), but the Elves in question cannot themselves prevent it or alter it. Once that bond is formed, they no longer desire penile-vaginal intercourse with anyone but their bondmate. Other forms of sexual contact (including same-sex sexual activity) remain both possible and pleasurable, but do not cause a bond to form (sorry Fanon!Maedhros and Fanon!Fingon; no spiritual bonding for you in my version of the Ardaverse); neither do they interfere with a bond that's already present. Young Elves just past puberty understandably have a great desire to experience intercourse, which every Elven society has to find successful ways to deal with somehow; my Laiquendi do it by marrying the kids off ASAP, while my Noldor (who face a significantly longer period of education before they're capable of assuming fully adult roles in their society) do it by a combination of various social pressures and more careful chaperoning of young people. After the passage of many years and the birth of multiple children, Elves gradually lose their interest in penile-vaginal intercourse completely, and their sex drive in general becomes more muted (although it never goes away entirely). That's Elven sexuality in the Ithilwenverse; anything more that appears or is implied in LACE is a mere cultural accretion (likely reflecting the influence of the Valar's teachings), not a reflection of true Elven biology.

The ages of Celebrimbor, Nolpa, and the twins: My Celebrimbor was born during the first year of Feanor's exile to Formenos; he never saw Tirion or the Two Trees, and was a small child when the Flight of the Noldor occurred. I'm picturing him here as being similar to a human 14 year old boy; he and his father Curufin are having the Noldor equivalent of the classic 'hair length/clothing style/turn-down-that-horrible-music!' fights. Since he's 40 here, the story must be taking place around the time of the Mereth Aderthad (give or take a few years either way). The Noldor have been in East Beleriand for a while now, but only Amrod and Amras have had a lot of direct contact with the Laiquendi at this point. Amrod and Amras (unlike their older brothers) spent their adolescent years in Formenos rather than Tirion, and had just reached their age of majority when the Flight of the Noldor occurred; they were thus less successfully indoctrinated into the minutia of LACE than their elder brothers and still young adults by their people's standards when they settled in southeastern Beleriand and met the Laiquendi, hence their greater willingness to reconsider their own culture's sexual standards. Nolpa is about the equivalent of a 16-going-on-17 year old boy; old enough to be considered a full (but very young) adult by the standards of many technologically simple cultures, but not quite there yet by the standards of the Noldor (the timing of whose own entry into adulthood is determined as much or more by their need to finish their formal education as it is by their species' biology).