The Curse by Robinka

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The Curse

Note on the Fëanorian hair-color: while I don't think that Celegorm was suddenly the blond one in the bunch of dark- and redhaired siblings ([Nerdanel]: Wth, Binka! The postman was after all a handsome Vanya, wasn't he? ;)), for the purpose of differenciating the three Beleriand men, he is blond here.

Note on True Blood universe for the non-TrueBies:

- True Blood vampires are highly sexual creatures that can move at an idiotic speed, have heightened senses, are able to glamour humans, and have other special gifts. The older vampire becomes the more powerful he/she is;

- Eric Northman is a thousand-year old Viking vampire, who can fly, among other things;

- Pam is Eric's vampire progeny;

- Bill is a vampire king of Louisiana, a Civil War veteran, and Sookie's first love interest;

- Sookie is Eric's bane, aka a part-fae telepath who should know better than to ditch him;

- Fae blood is irresistible to vampires and can make them daywalk.

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“Nothing has changed, except everything.” – David Mitchell, “Cloud Atlas”

Nargothrond, west Beleriand

Celegorm waited.

Curufin walked over to his son, who stood tall, proud, and steadfast--Curufin couldn’t deny it--even though this was the last thing he would want to tell Celebrimbor. In fact, what he really wanted to do was to punch him in the face for disobedience.

“You will come with me!” Curufin seethed through clenched teeth. He received a vehement shake of Celebrimbor’s head. Curufin’s hand shot out to grab his son’s throat. Celebrimbor’s eyes bulged, but he didn’t move, and pulsing veins became visible on his temples, along with droplets of sweat.

“You will change your mind, whelp,” Curufin threatened, backing off when a few swords were drawn from their sheaths around him and he found that sound certainly not to his liking. “And when you do, don’t even think about coming to me with your tail between your legs.”

“As you wish, Father!” Celebrimbor drawled out.

Curufin whipped around and joined his brother who still waited for him with his arms crossed on his chest and his eyes noticing every movement, every possible danger.

The two sons of Fëanor exited, chewing their disappointment and anger along with the stream of curses that would make Námo’s ears wither.

Soon the two horses galloped out of the halls of Nargothrond, carrying their masters into the wilderness.

~*~

Shreveport, LA, MoonGoddess Emporium

Marnie hiccuped and slapped her palm over her mouth.

“What hap-p-pened?” She blinked, trembled, and kept on hiccuping. “Is he gone?”

That undead brute had entered her shop, where she and her coven used to meet, and had demanded--yes, ordered--them to stop meeting. Unheard of! She hiccuped so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Absurd!

“He gone to motherfucking hell, where he belongs!” Tara Thornton hissed. “With a stake up his dead ass!”

“Eric fucking Northman,” Lafayette shrugged as Marnie hiccuped, muttered apologies, and again hiccuped, “will be back, hookah. He ain’t leave it if he’s still undead.” He waved his hand. “He’ll be back.”

Nonetheless, where the vampire had just been, there was a cloud of dissipating smoke.

~*~

Where the fuck…? Or another dimension

The wind whizzed. An unparagoned force tossed Eric into the air.

That witch! Cursed him! She had motherfucking dared--

He bellowed, helpless. The speed of a cannon ball. A rocket out of control in a kaleidoscope of earth and stars. So fast his own voice was whipped away. The sickening grip of gravity. Then dark branches, grabbing him, slowing him little. A tree trunk. A lance of pain in his mouth. And a crash--

The force of the collision made the foundations of the Earth quake, and Eric cried out from the pain. He blacked out for a split second, came back to his senses and gulped his own blood that pooled in his mouth, then spat out a good-sized chunk of his tongue that he must have bitten off. He screwed his eyes shut as the pain of regrowth surged through his jaw. There was also a feeling of some internal damages healing in his body: little fractures being closed, torn tissues cemented, internal bleeding stopped, and his blood cells rushed through his veins searching for more injuries to cure. Then, Eric slowly moved to sit up.

“That was fucking close,” he muttered as he stood up, dusted off his backside, and looked at the tree behind his back.

He had narrowly missed a sharp-ended branch that stood out from the trunk. A stroke of fucking luck, he realized, or he would’ve been a pool of bloody goo at the base of the tree. That witch … that bitch! He would deal with her and her coven later. For now he needed to feed, then to fly back to King Bill and tell him to stuff his kingly orders up his ass. Royally pissed off, he took to the sky, but his head swam, so Eric had to steady himself unless he wanted to barrel into another tree.

Eric stilled himself in the air like a dragonfly. He listened. A lot of wildlife in the dense forest around him, but no sound of traffic in the distance, no sounds of human activity. Only something that sounded akin to a bear wandering in the bushes. Eric breathed in. No pollution in the air; scents and fragrances were those of the woods: the freshness of pines and larches, the musty scent of undergrowth; mushrooms, and soil, the odor of carcasses; fur, blood, and wildflowers.

Ancient, primeval woods.

Where the fuck was he? Yellowstone?

Certainly, the surroundings didn’t appear as though he was anywhere near Shreveport. He had heard something far in the distance, something that might suggest there were people there. Eric slowly landed and zipped through the trees and bushes at vampire speed, zig-zagging a bit at first.

Soon, he arrived at the scene where he noticed three men, two horses, and a woman being roughly pulled from the ground up to the horse’s back in front of her assailant--as Eric surmised. No one seemed to notice his presence, giving him the freedom to observe. The woman shrieked, fought to free herself from the arms of the dark-haired man. The horse underneath them danced wildly, and Eric had to admit those two sat rather steadily, as if the horse stood still. There was another rider, the blond one, who must have attacked the only man that didn’t ride a horse. This one, bearded, though--Eric lifted his brow--managed to escape from underneath the hooves that would certainly crushed his skull.

For a human, this one presented an excellent speed and agility, Eric concluded seeing as the bearded man found himself atop the horse, behind the woman’s offender.

They all were yelling, but Eric couldn’t understand a word, and yet he couldn't care less.

“What, a fantasy convention, a movie, or something?” He shrugged and turned to leave, but something made him stop.

The bearded man on the horse punched the dark-haired one in the face, then he grabbed his throat. Blood gushed out of the broken nose, its scent instantly reaching Eric.

The vampire didn’t even think. The blood was tempting beyond resistance, its fragrance seeming to envelop him, stroke his cheeks and forehead, do wicked things to his senses, then grab him by the head and roughly pull, so he acted. In that instant, he was soaring above the horse’s back, pushed the bearded man and the woman to the ground, grabbed the dark-haired man by the neck, baring his fangs. He flew skyward as he ravaged the throat, gorging on the blood. The taste was exceptional, deliriously delicious, rich, spicy and sweet, almost as good as Sookie’s blood.

To hell with rules--after all he seemed to be out of his area, so he might just have to pay a kind of retribution to the king of this particular area and call it a day ... night to be precise. He dropped his victim, lowering himself to the ground after. He knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he didn’t fucking care.

Eric noted, smelled, and heard the fear that emanated from the duo that trembled in front of him. Their heart rates quickened, the odor of sweat intensified, and their temperatures rose a bit. However, they stood tall and pretended they weren't scared at all. The horses weren’t glad of his presence either, especially the one that was still carrying a rider, but the one creature that was the most unfriendly was a huge wolfhound, the size of a large pony and growling menacingly at him.

It was a dog, not a shapeshifter; nevertheless, Eric sensed something off about it. As well as about the two people--three people actually, that were staring at him speechless--shocked and frightened. But that wasn’t new to him. Fear usually meant an increased body heat, frantic heart-beat, more sweat, paleness, sometimes urination. People had usually reacted with fear or shock to vampires in the past, and fangbanging was a rather modern invention. Fangbangers had no respect for vampires whatsoever and they were treated as such in return. The so-called ‘vermin’ in Fangtasia being a good example. But those people … There was nothing modern about them. He couldn’t smell any modern fabric, hygiene or beauty products on them, though the scents of the woman and the blond man were enticing in particular.

Eric took a few steps forward, making the dog growl louder, and the bearded man stepped in front of the woman by way of defending her. Eric made an offhand bow toward them and said, “Enchanté.”

~*~

Some shithole in Beleriand

After the initial shock that had kept Celegorm immobilized, anger bubbled in him, washing over him like a tidal wave. Celegorm was no coward. He still had a spear in his grasp and had a horse underneath him. He had his faithful hound at his command. With a shout, he charged, only to meet emptiness where the bloodsucking monster had just been. His horse halted, rearing, and Celegorm looked over his shoulder, struggling with the reins. Huan barked and took off after the monster.

“Fight like a man, you coward!” Celegorm yelled. His horse reared once again.

But the pale monster was rather inclined toward toying with him, speeding back and forth, here and there, there and back again, until Celegorm lost his focus. The velocity was abnormal, even for Huan, inhuman, and Celegorm realized that this must be a demon straight from Angband-- another terrible foe to conquer, though this one was out of Celegorm’s reach. Making fun of him. Humiliating him further.

He had to avenge Curufin! Celegorm attacked again, with the spear aimed at the monster and a furious battle cry tearing out of his chest. Then, of course, he had to halt the horse, because the demon tricked him once again and his spear thrust met only with empty air.

Huan was growling.

Celegorm saw red.

And he gained an unlikely ally. Beren, of all people, joined him, riding Curufin’s horse, Curufin’s weapon in his hand. Celegorm nodded.

They urged their horses forward, but the monster flew up and hung in the air, smirking.

~*~

The fantasy convention, no less

Even the best and most fashionable entertainment must come to its end unless we want to drain the source so to speak and become bored to death. Eric knew the drill. He lowered himself a little bit and caught the bearded man by the collar, steadied him, and ensnared the man into his glamour. His influence pushed into the man’s mind, though Eric couldn’t be sure whether he was going to be properly understood.

“You are going to forget everything you’ve seen here. This woman, those men, and me,” Eric said slowly, pushing his will into the mind of the man even more forcefully. The man grinned the stupid grin of a village idiot and urged the horse away from Eric, who still hung in the air. Then, the horse and his rider vanished into the shrubbery.

Eric looked at the blond man, whose mouth was flies-catching and eyes huge like saucers. Eric caught him into his glamour, but felt resistance.

“Any chance you are a telepath?” Eric asked.

The man shook himself out of his astonishment and apparently recalled what he had been doing just before Eric glamoured his unfortunate companion. He moved to attack, but Eric dodged away.

“A-a-a-a,” Eric admonished him, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you.”

The man tilted his head to the side, obviously struggling to get what Eric was saying. Eric, however, couldn’t care less as he breathed in the blond's alluring scent. Dinner was about to be served. He flew closer and dropped fang.

~*~

The woods of Brethil, Beleriand

Lúthien had had enough of this pitiful performance. The demon, which she suspected was a vampire, made fun of Beren and Celegorm and had been doing so for far too long. When she realized that he had no apparent itch to attack her, she checked on Curufin. He was alive--but barely--due to blood loss. As it was now, he was beyond help unless she reached deep into her powers.

When Beren took off to the woods without a word, she decided to take the matter into her own hands and raised her arms to the sky.

She began singing, summoning each life force in the forest to assist her, lowering her arms to her sides then lifting them again. She felt the pulse of the power more ancient than Arda itself enter her, growing and growing, until she was ready to unleash it.

“Celegorm, move away!” she commanded, her voice sounding like a bronze bell.

And she released her power against the vampire. With a blast bright as daylight, a sinister whistle of the wind, and a dizzying rush of force that momentarily stilled the forest, he disappeared into the thin air.

“There.” She dusted her hands against her hips. “Go back wherever you came from, bloodsucker.”

Celegorm was beside his brother in that instant, leaning over his prone body, assessing the wounds. He looked over his shoulder at Lúthien.

“Will you help me?” he asked quietly.

“I will.” She came to crouch beside him. “Will you help me find Beren?”

“I will,” he grunted in response. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

~*~

Fangtasia’s parking lot, Shreveport, LA

The impact of Eric’s falling into the concrete of the parking lot opened a huge hole and almost demolished a car. Eric shook off another blackout and lifted himself from the apparent bomb site he had left, cursing at the pain of the healing that was undergoing in his body. Again.

This time when he looked around himself, he recognized the parking lot outside his bar in Shreveport and Pam and Sookie, appearing equally angry--at him--marching over to him.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Pam demanded, hands on her hips.

“A witch killed Bill!” Sookie whined.

Eric’s face instantly sported a cruel smirk because that was the best news of the last millennium.

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Chapter End Notes

Huge thank yous go to Dawn for her beta help and suggestions. Thank you!

Come on, TrueBies, come out of the coffin and leave a review. I know you’re out there! :)