Chasing the Stag by Amaranth

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Chapter 4 – The Venom of Jealousy

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Chapter 4 – The Venom of Jealousy

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Thousands of years…it echoed as Celegorm pensively observed Huan for several long moments; a Huan who was blissfully unaware of his master’s confusion while devouring his fish. Beleg’s statement dumbfounded him; he momentarily lost his power of speech as his mind tried to comprehend what he had heard. Of course Huan’s life span was extraordinary; the hound was special, but…

“Thou truly hadst no idea he was so ancient a being?” Beleg’s calm voice broke the silence and Celegorm turned to meet his gaze.

“I knew he is very special, graced with a long life. He hath been at my side for several hundred years…” Celegorm answered, perplexed. “But I never thought about how old he may have been when Oromë gave him to me. Though he was fully grown, he was wild and boisterous, as if he was only just past whelp age. I thought him still young.”

“He obviously preserved this youthful streak of his through all those years. I genuinely hope he will never change.” Beleg smiled fondly at the large hound before he turned back to Celegorm, whose stormy eyes gleamed with outright curiosity.

“Wilt thou tell me more?” Celegorm inquired, then frowned, his voice taking on a sharp undertone. “Or wilt thou continue to cloak thyself in secrecy and add another unanswered question to the many I already have?”

“Peace, Celegorm! I promised to answer all thy questions and I will keep my word,” Beleg replied calmly, shaking his head at the Noldo’s volatile temper. “Give an ancient soul a few moments to recollect and sort out his memories. My mind has to travel back to a time long past and not all memories of those years will be as pleasant as those of Huan.”

Beleg fell silent, his face growing distant as he remembered; his gaze focusing inward. Celegorm waited patiently, despite his growing curiosity. The Sinda’s words had unsettled him, yet had also strangely touched him. When Beleg told him he had known Huan thousands of years ago, Celegorm had failed to comprehend that not only his hound, but Beleg as well, had to be ancient; the revelation making him see Beleg in an entirely different light. He used the time Beleg was lost in thought to study the elf’s face more closely, now clearly seeing the traces of time etched into his features beneath the normally ageless appearance of the elves. There were no physical signs of age…they were more shadows of remembrance; pain and sorrow, which were now bared in Beleg’s unguarded expression.

Shadows of the past, Celegorm knew; time had not passed without affecting him, either. He had never felt the weight of time in Valinor, but since he had come to Middle-earth it tore at his soul, as it did at his brethren’s. As different as they were, as different were their ways of dealing with the weight on their souls, his was to withdraw to the forests; yearning for their soothing embrace and for the hunt which allowed him to temporarily leave behind all that troubled him. That wandering had led him to Beleg, whose presence was annoying, confusing and yet comforting at the same time; an elf shrouded in mystery. Yet Celegorm had the distinct feeling something else tied him to Beleg; something that went deeper than their shared love of hunting.

There had been something more in the savagery of their coupling, a subliminal sensation Celegorm had almost missed while driven by his anger-fuelled frenzy. A deep longing in Beleg’s eyes transcended the eagerness of the elf’s body, a longing that seemed strangely familiar…

“I suppose it will not serve to sate thy curiosity when I tell thee Huan was with Oromë when he came to Cuiviénen?” Beleg’s voice jolted Celegorm out of his musings, his teasing tone failing to mask the grief in the depth of his eyes and the shadow that seemed to weigh on his soul.

Oromë. The mention of his former mentor made Celegorm’s heart constrict painfully in his chest. For a moment his mind was drawn back to a time when his life had still been without shadow, when his greatest trouble had been how to best steal away from his duties to roam Oromë’s forest and how to get rid of his siblings so he could spend time alone with his mentor. He felt Beleg’s gaze lingering on him and turned, meeting eyes that gazed back knowingly.

“I knew Oromë well, he hath been my mentor just as he hath been thine,” Beleg answered Celegorm’s unspoken question. “He shaped a part of who we are; in thy case, certainly the only likable part.” Celegorm was about to retort, but Beleg stilled him with a raised hand before he could speak. “Even if I had not already known he tutored thee in Aman, I would have recognized his hand in thy manner; it speaks as clearly from thy hunting rituals as a signature.”

“So this is why thou didst spy on me. One former student observing another, comparing similarities and differences, strengths and weaknesses.” Celegorm shook his head, casting Beleg a sour glance. “To finally measure skills in form of thy deceptive game of hide and seek.” Deep in Celegorm’s heart a dark feeling stirred; anger slowly seething and quickening his temper.

“Is this still eating at thee? I did not observe thee to gain an advantage over thee…I was uncertain,” Beleg exclaimed, groping for the right words. “It was good to see thou dost honor the rituals Oromë values so much, and hast not abandoned what he taught thee. Despite knowing he hath been thy mentor, I sincerely had not expected this of…”

“A kinslayer?” Celegorm snarled, rising to his feet.

“This is not what I was going to say,” Beleg shot back, finally losing his patience with the quick-tempered, unpredictable son of Fëanor. “A golodh! For my kin, who hath dwelled in the woodland ever since the time of Cuiviénen, it comes naturally to be in accordance with it. It is something rooted within us, a deep understanding that is rare to find to such an extent it in one of thy kin. Who thou art made my decision to seek thee out indeed more difficult, yet I chose to put all animosities aside.”

“How gracious of thee, Sinda! What would thy fellows say, if they knew?” Celegorm hissed, crouching beside Beleg, their faces a mere handspan apart. He slowly let his hand trail up the inside of Beleg’s thigh while observing him from narrowed eyes. Beleg remained silent and unmoving, his expression hard and defiant; yet Celegorm felt the quickening breath on his skin as his hand wandered, the slight shudder and hardening bulge beneath the leather when it reached Beleg’s crotch and the betraying flush of shame that spoke more than words.

“I ought to feel honoured then,” Celegorm purred darkly. “But know this, Beleg. I did not ask for thy company, nor do I care for it.” Rising to his feet again, Celegorm gripped his weapons and the fishing rod and strode off without sparing Beleg another glance. Huan, who had observed the whole scene from a safe distance, seemed torn whether he should follow his master, pacing nervously, though a sharp whistle from Celegorm called him to his side and he obeyed.

 

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Huan curled up on the grass a few paces from his master and observed him, though made no move to come closer, obviously wary of his foul mood. Celegorm had found another place further along the lake to cast his fishing line and now gazed across the water, brooding while he waited for his quarry to bite. The net for the catch had remained with Beleg, so he absently wove a makeshift net of the reed which grew abundantly along the edge of the lake, then put it aside. The first fish bit, a char, and Celegorm pulled it out in silence, stored it in the net he’d hung from a branch, then put fresh bait on the hook and cast his line anew before he resumed staring at nothing.

As motionless as he would appear to an observer, inside Celegorm’s mind a thunderstorm raged. He tried to fathom what had prompted his last burst of temper, what had caused him to lash out at Beleg again, though he was not quite certain. He had acted impulsively, without thinking. Yes, it still ate at him that Beleg had lured him into his little game, but this had not been the reason for his renewed anger at the elf, though he remained rather angry with himself for blindly falling prey. His anger had risen from deep within his heart before he was truly aware of it and had then exploded; overwhelming him ere he even had a chance to control it… The next fish bit, another char, and he put it in the net with the first, prepared his fishing rod again and continued pondering while he waited.

He had shattered the fragile measure of peace and understanding they had shared just as Beleg had started to open up to him, yet Celegorm still could not figure out why he had behaved so harshly. Yes, he still felt slightly tense in Beleg’s presence, though he had done his best to mask it with the cool arrogance that had become his second skin; covering the occasional hint of insecurity he felt. It did not befit a son of Fëanor to be unsure of himself, even slightly. His father had taught him this lesson the hard way when he had still been a youth. At the back of his mind, Celegorm had both anticipated and dreaded the moment when Beleg would inevitably address the subject of the kinslaying. Yet not Beleg but he himself had finally turned their conversation there.

Celegorm knew he had been unjust in accusing Beleg, questioning his motives and mocking his goodwill for not allowing the deeds of the past to influence their…their what? They were not friends, though the things they had in common tied them in a loose companionship. Beleg intrigued him; and as confusing and unsettling as the Sinda’s presence was, Celegorm felt comfortable around him. Well, he had until Beleg had…The rapid twitching of the float on the water drew Celegorm’s attention and he snatched up the rod just before it came loose from where he had stuck it in the ground. Celegorm had a struggle, this time his catch wasn’t secured so easily and kept tugging violently at the hook to break free. He finally managed to haul it in and eyed the large, flopping trout with a hint of a smile…it was indeed good fishing ground; Beleg had been right.

His catch was enough to feed himself and Huan for the evening, yet a glance at his hound, who hungrily eyed the wriggly spoil, told him there would be nothing left over for the morrow. Thus he opted for fishing a little longer, despite his reluctance. Fishing had sounded like a good idea when Beleg had suggested it, though then it had promised to be shared hours of friendly chatter and not those of lone, enforced idleness that allowed him too much time to mull over his own stupidity. Standing at the edge of the lake, Celegorm tried to get a glimpse of Beleg, but low hanging branches and thick bushes shielded the Sinda from his view.

What had ridden him to push Beleg away so vehemently and to cause their tentative companionship to fall apart? Celegorm was rather sure he knew when it had happened…his mood had changed the moment Beleg mentioned Oromë; from there it had quickly disintegrated into seething anger. He had not expected Beleg to know his former mentor personally, much less find that he had been tutored by him as well. Again, the dark sensation from before crept over Celegorm’s heart causing him to grit his teeth and clench his fists, for now he recognized the feeling for what it was…jealousy. With Beleg, this shared circumstance had stirred the wish to reach out and get to know him better, in Celegorm it prompted the contrary, he had instantly hardened his heart against the Sinda.

Celegorm had always felt special because Oromë chose to take him under his wing, even though there had been more promising and talented young huntsmen. He had still been a youth and admittedly quite a nuisance; one who regularly tested his mentor’s patience, yet Oromë had put up with him. Celegorm knew it was the first time his father had truly been proud of him, and even though Fëanor never said a word, the gleam in his eyes when he looked at his son spoke clearly his pride in him, a thing which had made it even more special for Celegorm. Unlike Curufin, he had failed to excel in smith craft; was no praised musician like Maglor, and compared to Maedhros his skill in politics and statesmanship was small, but there had been no better hunter throughout Valinor than him.

He was Oromë’s sole student in Valinor. There had been none before him, yet the possibility of Oromë having taught others before the elves came to dwell in Valinor had never occurred to him. It stung his heart like a poisonous thorn, exuding the venom of jealousy that now flowed through his blood as hot rage. Oromë was his, he did not wish to share him! Celegorm knew well this thought was ridiculous; he’d no way of knowing if his former mentor had taken another elf as his apprentice after he had chosen to live in exile. It was a bitter thought; though the fact that it was unlikely that he would ever meet Oromë’s next student made it easier to deceive oneself. But Beleg was real, he was the living proof that Celegorm was not as special as he had made himself believe in his youth; and Celegorm hated him for it.

Kicking a random stone, Celegorm sent it flying into the forest and growled angrily when vivid images surfaced before his mind’s eye and spurred his jealousy to a whole new level. Just at that moment, the float started to twitch again and Celegorm impatiently ripped at the line until his catch, another large trout, lay at his feet. He then picked it up and furiously flung it to the ground again where the fish’s movement ceased after a few more weak twitches. Huan leaped up with a startled howl and nervously paced with his tail tucked between his legs, slinking further back when Celegorm looked at him. Celegorm shook his head, shocked by his own violent outburst, never before had Huan been afraid of him and it hurt him deeply to see his friend shying away from him.

Slowly Celegorm walked over to the hound, sank down on his knees beside him and gently started to ruffle his fur. He took comfort in the familiar warmth of the large hound when he pressed against him, the weight of the furry head where it rested it on his leg. The scenes he had imagined caused him to feel hot white anger as all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen in place. He had subliminally felt it before, but had not been able to put the scattered clues together: the familiarity of the wild pursuit, Beleg’s longing and the strange intimacy he had sensed during their coupling which followed, the knowing expression in the Sinda’s eyes when he observed his reaction to Oromë’s name and the flicker of pain in them before, when he had spoken it.

This was not about one former student meeting another; it went far deeper. His jealousy was not truly rooted in the shattering of his dream of being special he had held as an immature youth. No, it was the jealousy a mature and rather possessive Fëanorion felt when suddenly meeting another former lover of Oromë face to face. Beleg had said nothing to confirm this suspicion, but Celegorm’s instincts told him it was true. Did Beleg know he had been Oromë’s lover? They had kept it secret, he had never told a soul, not even Curufin. Curufin, who was closest to him of all his brethren, though Celegorm was rather certain he had eventually guessed, yet never once had his brother made comment. Celegorm was sure Beleg knew, most likely the Sinda simply figured it out just as he had, but despite that suspicion, seemed unruffled by the knowledge.

Did Beleg not feel any jealousy toward him? Here he was, seething with anger because of a lover Oromë had known before he had even been born, but Celegorm had been his lover after Beleg. Did the Sinda not care? Maybe what had been between Beleg and Oromë had not been a matter of the heart, as it had been betwixt himself and his mentor; maybe it had merely been physical. Yet Celegorm’s instinct and the desperate longing he had seen in Beleg’s eyes silently spoke the truth of the matter. Anyway, why had Beleg been so accepting, even eager when they had lain with each other? Ought he not at least feel some kind of rivalry?

Celegorm’s head was swimming, anger blurred with confusion and the ever-present pain of loss now awakened to a new intensity. He needed to confront Beleg. He needed answers and this time he would not allow the Sinda to talk his way around it, he would come straight to the point. Coming to his feet, Celegorm stored his last catch in the net with the rest of the fish and retrieved his weapons. He did not bother with the rod, yet he quickly removed the string and hook, storing them in his pocket before he left in search of Beleg.

 

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