It was hard to tell if it was night or day in Valinor, if you could not see the sky. The stars shone brighter in the evening, while the clouds could be better seen in the light of day. Celegorm had his windows closed and the shades drawn. He had not slept since returning, despite the healer’s warning. In fact, he continued to poke at the bandages so that his wounds had yet to begin to scab over and fresh blood was still found on the bandages when they were changed.
“Celegorm, dear, you must stop touching them,” explained his mother hours earlier when she came to check on him.
“Why? Who cares if I heal or not?” he had pushed at the skin surrounding the gash, and blood and puss oozed out.
“Tell him if he does not leave it be, I will have his hands and feet tied to the posts to keep him from disrupting it,” announced his father from the doorway.
It was hard to tell whether or not his father would do as he promised, but Celegorm did not want to find out. He resisted the urge to prod his wounds when he saw the door open across the room.
His guest was not whom he expected, and he turned his head away to face the wall. “Leave me alone, Fingon.”
Fingon quietly shut the door behind him. “I know I am not your first choice of visitors, but Aredhel asked me to come.”
At the sound of his beloved Aredhel’s name, Celegorm looked back to her brother. “What do you want?” He asked maliciously, but was deeply interested in the answer.
The attitude did not deter Fingon as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “She wished that I come to tell you that father has sent her to stay at the forest inn for the winter. Artanis is going with her. They are to be there to, well, to keep them from having all of us as bad influences.”
“All of us?” Celegorm snorted. “They mean me.”
“They mean all of us,” corrected Fingon. “It was decided that both of them need some time away from here, in a place where there are more people their own age and have similar interests—“
“No,” argued Celegorm. He sat up slightly so that he could look at Fingon instead of up at him. “If they wanted the two of them around others with similar interests, they would keep them here. It is because of our interests and their interests in those interests that they have been sent away.” Celegorm lowered himself back down again with a grunt. “Aredhel and Artanis are not ‘ladylike’ enough for our parents. I just hope they do not come back boring, whiny, prissy girls.”
“Somehow, I doubt a few months will do that,” said Fingon. “Anyhow, Aredhel asked for me to come and give you these,” he said, handing a stack of letters to Celegorm. “She dated them; you are not supposed to open them all at once, though she said you would be tempted to do so. She knew that it would be difficult to get mail through from the inn with the weather the way it is, so she just wrote these over the last few nights.”
Celegorm looked at the stack he held and began to tuck them under his pillow. He brought them out again, shuffled through and found the one that had the current date, and then hid the rest. “Thank you, Fingon.”
“You are welcome.” He stood and placed the chair back where he had found it. “I suppose that you would like me to leave so that you can read the letter in peace.”
“I suppose you would rather go see my brother than sit and spend time with me, anyhow.” Celegorm broke the seal on the letter, and then looked up to see that Fingon was still standing there. “What?”
“I am sorry,” said Fingon simply.
Celegorm gave a shrug against his pillow. “If I were you, I would rather go see my brother, too, I guess. Though I cannot understand why,” he mumbled to himself.
“No, I meant… nevermind.” Fingon turned around, and heard the sheets rustle as Celegorm sat up.
“Fingon, what are you apologizing for?”
After a hesitant moment, Fingon turned around. “If I tell you, you will probably be upset.”
Celegorm looked interested – so much so, that the letter was now in his lap instead of held out before him. “Tell me,” he demanded, though not very loud.
Fingon sighed. “I… feel bad for you. I feel like things should be better for you. I hear the way that your father talks to you, and I hear stories of things that your brothers have done, and… I feel sorry for you.”
“You pity me?” spat out Celegorm.
“Not pity,” Fingon said quickly as he heard Celegorm growl. “I… I just feel bad.”
“You should not,” answered Celegorm quickly. Then he laughed. “How absurd,” he mused. “I have always…” He shook his head.
“What?” asked Fingon, the curious one now.
“I have always pitied you,” said Celegorm. He shook his head again. “How strange.”
The conversation might have continued, except for Maedhros’ sudden appearance at the door. “There you are. Father said you had arrived, but I could not find you.”
“I just had to make a delivery. Letters from Aredhel,” Fingon explained as Maedhros ushered him from the room.
Celegorm waited until the door was closed again and unfolded the letter. He smiled as he read it over and over, delighting in every word. There was a knock on the door, and quickly, he hid the letter he had been reading as Turgon stepped in. “Why did you bother to knock if you were just going to come in here?”
“Why did you bother to keep your door unlocked if you did not want people to come in?” Turgon walked over toward the bed and dragged over the chair his brother had been sitting in earlier. “Your mother said you were having trouble sleeping.” There was a bottle in his hand and now Turgon pulled a corkscrew from his pocket.
“What business is it of yours?”
“I thought we could have a drink together.” Turgon steadied the bottle between his legs and twisted the screw into the cork. “I know you are not in the best spirits, and sometimes these spirits can help.” The cork sprang off and hit the wall, causing Celegorm to curse at him. “Do not worry. I have yet to put a hole into a wall.”
Celegorm took hold of the bottle that was held out to him and took a swig. “You do know that I am going to drink all of this myself,” he said as he held the bottle close to his chest.
“Yes, I had a feeling that was going to be the case. I have two bottles downstairs for the rest of us to have with dinner, and another for you as well.” Turgon turned the chair around so that he could prop his arms on the back of it. “Did you have a good time?”
“Hmm?” Celegorm slogged down half the bottle before he answered. “Sure. I guess. It would have been nice if it had been longer. You know, there was one day when you almost found us.”
“Did I?”
“You were hunting with a bunch of other people, and you looked up into the tree we were in. You said something about a strange bird, and we thought you had seen us.”
“Oh.” Turgon nodded. “Right, I remember that. Funny, I did not realize you had stayed so close.”
“We went all the way out to sea with the Teleri.” Celegorm took another long drink. “But, we came back again. We should have stayed at sea.”
“You would have come back eventually,” reasoned Turgon. “I wish I could have gone with you,” he said wistfully.
“Really?” questioned Celegorm incredulously.
“Absolutely,” Turgon replied. “I have always wanted to, you know, run away. Hide for a while.” He smirked. “Go somewhere that no one could find me.”
Celegorm laughed and finished the rest of the bottle. “Turgon, I have no doubt, that if you were ever to go into hiding, you are the only one among us able to hold his tongue and keep from making a stupid mistake that would lead you to being discovered.”
“Yes, I do believe you are right about that,” Turgon agreed. “I can be quite sneaky when I want to be. Speaking of which,” he added as Celegorm finished the rest of the liquor, “I added a sleeping potion to that.”
“I know.” Celegorm titled his head back and slurped the remaining drops from the bottle. “This stuff is too good for me to care.”
Turgon leaned in and took hold of the empty bottle. “Sleep well.”
“Mmmhmm.” Celegorm’s eyes were drooping already as he watched Turgon push the chair back into place and leave the room. He licked his lips, making sure to get the rest of the Airenen he might have missed. Drowsy was an understatement as he reached under the pillow and pulled out the letter. The words were blurry, but somehow he managed to read through them once more before his eyes closed. He fell asleep with one arm dangling off the side of the bed, and in it, the letter from his love.
