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In which Curufin is a forgetful workaholic
Celegorm pushes open the smithy door to find Curufin bent over a helmet, working vines along the comb. Curufin remains engrossed in his work, not noticing the intrusion, and Celegorm smirks. Noiselessly, he advances from behind.
"Happy birthday," he whispers in Curufin's ear. Curufin yelps and whirls, striking at his head. Grabbing his arm, Celegorm blocks the blow and grins. "Don't you recognize your own brother?"
"Why are you here?" Curufin demands, glaring at him. "And my birthday isn't even for another week."
Celegorm's lips twitch with humor. "Curvo. What's today's date?"
Surprise flickers across his face. "Oh. It's tomorrow."