Beyond Canon
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There was one beast in the forest that eluded Elf and Vala alike, and some claimed he was actually a maia in the form of a stag. He was silver, his entire coat gleaming in the light of either tree, and his appearance often foretold of good fortune or a blessed harvest.

The moment that Celegorm spotted him, he had been obsessed with the idea of being the one to fell the stag. Now and then on hunting trips, a glimpse might be seen of the magnificent creature, but if one gave chase they would be eluded. Fleet-foot, he was called by some, and Forest-prince by others. Very few times had anyone been able to even have the time to shoot and arrow in the direction of the deer before he darted off.

Now Celegorm and Aredhel traveled through the part of Orome’s woods where the stag was known to live. Although winter had only begun and the cold was not noticeable, it was obvious to both of them that they were not prepared to weather the season with what few provisions they had. Neither wished to discuss their next move, but it was becoming inevitable.

They spent most of the morning simply hiking. Movement left little time for talking. Talking would only lead their adventure to an end. A stumble made them silently change their course so that they now traveled in the direction of a pond that would offer refreshment and respite.

While they crouched down at the edge of the water, Aredhel finally broke the silence. “Eventually, we will need to return.”

Celegorm washed the dirt from his arms, but said nothing.

“I know you want to stay out here – and, I admit, I am enjoying this as well – but realistically we cannot keep hiding forever. Nor would I want to.” Aredhel sighed. “I miss my brothers, and my parents, and my cousins – you must miss everyone, too.”

Celegorm shrugged. “I have not been lonely because I have you with me.”

Aredhel opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, her mouth continued to hang open, and she suddenly gripped Celegorm’s arm. “Look. To your left. Look!”

The reflection in the water had alerted Aredhel of the fact they were not alone, but until Celegorm turned he did not see what his cousin had. Standing beside them, as if they were not even present, was the silver stag. He had lowered himself down to drink, and lifted his muzzle from the water when the pair of elves stopped talking.

Aredhel was on Celegorm’s right, and she reached around him with her hand. The deer flinched immediately, but then curiously sniffed at the hand held out to him. A tentative tongue flicked out, and licked at Aredhel’s hand in search of salt.

“He is beautiful. I cannot believe we are so close for once!” Aredhel practically squealed.

Celegorm had been frozen in place, but now that the idea of their proximity and the opportunity presented collided in his brain, his hand reached for his belt. His knife would have been there, had he not dropped it in another part of the forest when fighting the wolves. A sharp object on the ground caught his attention, and he slowly picked up the pointed rock and positioned it in his hand, unseen by Aredhel.

Then Celegorm lunged, and thought he caught the deer off guard. At the last moment, the deer dodged, and in the confusion, Celegorm fell forward. His hands scraped against the rough ground, and when he tried to stand up, the stag made sure he could not pursue by knocking the elf over and trampling across him.

“Celegorm!” Aredhel had miraculously managed to stay just out of the reach of the deer. She knelt down beside her cousin and looked him over. When she saw the blood seeping into the cloth around his torso, she whimpered. “He hurt you badly! Celegorm, why did you do such a stupid thing?”

Unable to get up or to answer, Celegorm only groaned.

“Stay right here,” instructed Aredhel. “I am going to get help.” She stood up and looked around to get her bearings. There was a hunting lodge that her uncle owned, just to the south of where they were. If she was lucky, someone would be there, and if not, there were a few other residences nearby.

Her feet took her swiftly from the spot where Celegorm was left. She soon found her way to the well-traveled path that would lead to the lodge. As she ran, the forest became a blur before her, the bark, dirt, and dead leaves on the ground all blending into one dull brown color.

Ahead, something caught her eye. Amid the dreariness was a sudden shock of color, and she slowed to see a fire burning. Aredhel fought through the bushes and densely grown trees in her path to reach the spot, thinking a fire to mean a hunting party.

When she reached the clearing, she found an unexpected sight: Her brother Fingon, wearing a pair of tight leggings he often used when practicing gymnastics, was dancing in the forest. What was more, there was a Valier perched in a tree encouraging him. For a moment, Aredhel thought she was hallucinating. When she came to her senses, she shouted for her brother. “Fingon!”

The silence of the dance was broken, and Fingon stumbled forward and opened his eyes. He did not expect to see his sister, or anyone for that matter, looking back at him. “Aredhel – where have you been?” Fingon ran to his sister and hugged her tightly. “Are you alright? Where have you been? Where is Celegorm?”

“He is hurt,” she said, and then began to sob in her brother’s arms. “There was a deer – that stag, the one he is always saying he shall capture. It attacked him; Celegorm is bleeding. I do not know what to do!”

“Shh, it is alright. How far away is he?” asked Fingon as he looked around and saw that the fire was extinguished. What was more, Nessa was gone.

“Just over yonder, not far, a brisk walk of an hour or perhaps a little more,” she sniffled.

Fingon nodded. “We are not far from uncle’s lodge; I have supplies there to help him. We will go there, and you shall take my horse and ride to grandfather’s house for help. I will return to Celegorm and do what I can.”

The siblings made their way to the small house, and after Fingon gathered the supplies he needed, he sent his sister on her way. Then, he returned to the woods and walked as fast as he could toward his destination.

When he found his cousin, Celegorm had managed to crawl to a tree and prop himself up against it. His breathing was weak and his skin cool to the touch. “Where is Aredhel?” he demanded as Fingon covered him with a blanket he had brought and laid out the supplies he had with him.

“I sent her to bring grandfather. He will better know what to do.” Fingon tore away the bloodied shirt and assessed the wound. “I need to find some athelas. I will return shortly.” He draped the blanket back over his cousin and wandered off into the woods to find what he needed.

A short time later, he returned, and found Celegorm had fallen asleep. “All for the best,” he said quietly as he pulled back the blanket and began to apply a hastily made poultice to the wound. A bandage was secured over it, and then he covered Celegorm again with the blanket and waited for help to arrive.

It was well over an hour before anyone showed up. The light of Laurelin was already fading, and Telperion was taking over the duties of lighting the skies. Finwe rode at the head of the party, and with him were Feanor and Fingolfin, and also Aegnor, who had happened to be at Finwe’s house when Aredhel suddenly appeared.

Fingolfin leaped from his horse first, and approached menacingly. Before he could reach Celegorm, who was stirring slightly, Fingon blocked his father’s path. “He is injured,” said Fingon calmly as he stood in his father’s way.

“He is going to be more than injured when I finish with him,” warned Fingolfin. “Stand back.”

“Leave him alone!” Fingon surprised even himself with the ferocity of his voice. He swallowed hard as his father stepped back. “Can you not see how badly wounded he is?”

Celegorm mumbled something, and while Finwe motioned for his second eldest son to keep a little further way, Fingon bent down and asked his cousin, “What did you say?”

“I said,” announced Celegorm so that everyone could hear without question, “I can defend myself. I do not need you to do it for me.” To emphasize this point, Celegorm weakly shoved Fingon away.

Feanor stepped forward and couched down on the other side of his son. “Enough of your childishness for one day, Celegorm. Your cousin just saved your life, and your repayment is abhorrent.” A sled was brought forth and tied between two of the horses, though Celegorm fussed to be put upon it. “So help me, I will knock you unconscious myself if you continue your behavior,” Feanor warned.

These words silenced Celegorm, but did not stop the odious glare he gave to his cousin. Feanor patted Fingon on the shoulder as he passed him, and then the party set on their way back for Finwe’s house.

“I thought you might want a ride back,” offered Aegnor as he motioned to the empty part of his saddle. “You know he does not really mean it,” added his cousin in regards to Celegorm’s behavior.

“He might,” said Fingon. He declined the offer, and walked back alongside Aegnor’s horse until they reached their grandfather’s house. The rest of the Feanorians had arrived by then, and an argument between the various members of the family could be heard even outside of the house.

Turgon greeted them on the porch. “Father is in one of his moods,” he warned.

“When is he not in a mood?” whispered Fingon back. “Where is Aredhel?”

“Mother took her back home upon father’s instruction. He is livid about what happened, whatever that is. Neither of them will speak a word of it.” Turgon chuckled. “Our family is such a mess. I am so glad I am the normal one.”

“You are the normal one? What about me?” wondered Aegnor.

“I meant of my immediate family. No offense,” said Turgon, “but I have a sister who acts like a brother, a brother who acts like a sister, and a little brother who keeps getting lost and refuses to learn how to talk. How strange is that?”

“Very,” agreed Fingon with a slight glare. “Good thing you are so normal, to help balance the rest of us.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Turgon as the shouting match inside continued.
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