Righteous Deeds by Gwenniel

Chapter 3

Kanafinwë was angry. My calm brother Macalaurë, "Forging-gold", was gone and in his place was an angry Kanafinwë, "Strong-voice", more angry than ever. His grief had grown into a terrible wrath and his eyes shone; now that he was reproaching us he looked like my father more than ever. His beautiful voice spoke of freedom, of love, of justice, and of betrayal. Three of those, he said, we lacked, and the fourth we knew too much of. Tyelkormo would have rushed up from his seat many times, had I not tugged his sleeve and whispered for him to wait. Maitimo was wrathful and upset, but also very silent. He kept reading the letter over and over again, his forehead in deep wrinkles.

"You are my own brothers! Why did you do it?" Kánafinwë asked. I kept my temper and my calm smile I had the bad habit of wearing even at difficult times, but he went on: "Why did you not tell us before?" By now, exhaustion had taken over his anger and he was rather willing us to see what our deeds had caused. And we did see, partly at least. Or we would have seen had we not been so keen on keeping our pride and dignity. The second son of Fëanáro was the voice of gold, and the voice of reason. Had ever been, would ever be. He was grieved for what we had done. But he could not be impartial if he heard nothing else than what Thingol had put in his letter.

...Your brothers, Lord Maedhros, had most cruelly imprisoned my daughter. She has escaped them, at which I marvel not, for who would marry such an Elf as your brother Lord Celegorm, who had the nerve to ask me in a letter for my daughter's hand in marriage, although he knows very well that I will not have anything to do with his kin...

...Even you I hold to blame. Your brothers found Lúthien, and yet they did not send her back. They would hold her in orcish fashion... Had you stayed your brothers I would still have my daughter, my only child, by my side...

...The Mortal whom my daughter loved is apparently dead. To give way for another suitor, perhaps?... But moreover, Finrod is dead also... At this I marvel, for he was your cousin, and although you are known kinslayers, I would not have dreamt of your brothers sending him off to die. Such selfish deeds are so low that the Dark Enemy Morgoth himself would be proud...

...They held her, but not well enough, and now she is lost. I ask you to help us in searching for her. That would not redress all the damage Lord Celegorm and Lord Curufin have put my kingdom and the Kingdom of Narog through, but had you any decency left in you, son of Noldor, you would help us in our woe... Should you find her, please send her back immediately, and do keep Lord Celegorm away from her or I have no choice but to declare open war...

"What do you say in your defense?" Maitimo asked coldly. "I would have had Thingol, if not as an ally, then at least not as an enemy. It seems like your private business has ruined all chances." He looked sternly at us. He was wrathful, but deadly silent. I decided to let Tyelkormo have his say, before I would comment.

He stood up at once. "If Thingol thinks he can have our Silmarilli, then I think I am permitted to wish for his daughter as my wife," he blurted out. I closed my eyes at this; so far the worst speech of defense ever. Macalaurë looked suspiciously at us, and Maitimo opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. But then Tyelkormo's style changed. "A treasure for him, and I would get no less." I listened again.

He spoke not of war in the north, of the Oath, or of troops he would have guided to regain the Silmarilli. That our brothers had heard before. Now he spoke what had not been mentioned earlier. He spoke of Lúthien. Such a passion was in his voice as he spoke of her: her beauty and her kindness were told in vivid images of words, and his desire to protect her from evil and from death was filled with emotion. How he would have loved her forever. How he, if she had let him love her, would have guarded her well and kissed away her grief; not let her take the path that would only lead to death. Tyelkormo the master orator, despite his harsh heart, had a voice no less golden than the one of Macalaurë.

The room fell silent. We gazed into the distance, our hearts contemplating this unhappy love. Tyelkormo sat down and fell silent once again. His fell words at Nargothrond were like blown away; no one doubted that he had loved the maiden for her real being, and not just for her kinship with Thingol. I let his words hang in the air before having my say in this matter. I could not believe that even this marvellous confession of love from our hot-tempered brother would quite convince everyone, although I did admire his skills as a spellbinding talker. I wondered whether he had spoken these words to Lúthien as well.

After a brief silence, Maitimo asked my opinion. I replied humbly that Tyelkormo would have been a good leader to the people of Nargothrond. I gave them my honest opinion that in these times of war Nargothrond needed a good and strong king. Ingoldo fitted that description, but Artaresto would do no well. (I did not say that in my opinion he was rather a slow dullard, but I mentioned as an example the fall of Minas Tirith, from where he had had to be rescued by us.) I believed that Tyelkormo would have fought off the wolves of Sauron with his bare hands, had the need arisen, but I did not say that out loud when I remembered how Findaráto had died.

"Could you not have ruled Nargothrond together, you and Artaresto," Macalaurë asked quietly. "Ingoldo left the kingship to Artaresto, but you could have been his counsellors."

"He did not want that," I said sadly. "His policies clashed with ours." I explained what had happened and how we had reasoned our deeds. I smiled to myself as my brothers gravely hung onto my every word. I sought not to be excused but to be understood. Now came the full motives for why Huan had forsaken us and why Telperinquar was not with me. I did not try to capture an emotion of the likeness of what my brother had shown us; I rather spoke about practicalities. But I did not leave out how happy Tyelkormo had been with Lúthien and how he would have been a good father some day.

I think it was the comment about fatherhood that got into the hearts of our elder brothers. Maitimo and Macalaurë had no children, although Macalaurë had had a wife, but I knew from their expressions that they were thinking not only of the cruelty that had bereft me of my son, but also of our own father. He had been a good parent, and we stood up for him no matter what had happened. He had raised us all with kindness, and for him and our mother we had become what we were.

Macalaurë sat upright. He looked at us. This one time I did not understand the look in his eyes. But after a moment he asked us:

"Is not King Thingol a father, also? Probably by his own standards no less good than any Noldo." He turned to my questioning countenance. "He is a proud Sinda and a Lord of Dark Elves, yes. But if we find his daughter we must return her to her home. He will not have our Silmarilli and we will not take from him what is his. We are not thieves; thieves are what we are hunting."

Maitimo nodded in agreement, but Tyelkormo bit his lip. Macalaurë looked at him with compassion. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I would grant you the joy of true love, dear brother, but seek for it elsewhere." Tyelkormo nodded silently, but whether he really heeded wasn't for certain.

He stood up, not saying a word. At times he was the hasty riser that his name spoke of, other times he could be so silent and brooding.

"I hope you understand me," Macalaurë said to him before he went. "I would not want your life to have the sorrows it has."

Tyelkormo nodded again. "I understand," he said at last. "Love comes or comes not; thieves are what we hunt for." Then he left the room.