Dancing In The Dark by Grundy  

The Calm Before The Storm

Curufinwë didn’t have the heart to watch Ingo’s actual departure when it came to it.

Ingo played the break with both kin and followers beautifully, going so far as to take his crown and cast it at his feet in the Great Hall. Curufinwë and Tyelko were close enough to see Ingo was privately enjoying himself, but to the rest, it must have looked real enough. (It had been, in Curufinwë’s opinion, dangerously close to overdoing it, but Nargothrond in general had lapped it up.) Edrahil might have been coached to beg Ingo to name a steward to rule in his absence, but the crown ended up with Resto as intended either way.

Ingo said his goodbyes privately later that night.

It was Edrahil and only nine others going with Ingo. Curufinwë strongly suspected Edrahil had bent the stricture on secrecy with a few of the others, Ingo’s most loyal retainers. They certainly all looked grim enough when they stopped by Ingo’s quarters to confirm all was ready that Curufinwë could believe they fully understood what they were setting out to do. They were also far less hostile than he’d have expected given Ingo had publicly blamed his cousins for his people ‘breaking faith’.

The twelve of them slipped quietly away just before dawn the next morning, letting Nargothrond wake to the unpleasant reality that their king really had gone as he said he would. To Curufinwë’s relief, remorse didn’t set in for several days, long enough for Ingo and his company to be far enough away that trying to catch up with them would be as good as betraying them to the Enemy.

Live or die, by the time Ingo’s quest ended, his people would remember him as a hero and excuse themselves failing him by making his Fëanorion cousins the villains.

The idea had been that Curufinwë and Tyelko would stay a few seasons to make sure Resto was well-established. (And in Curufinwë’s mind, to make sure the kids were actually sent to the Falas. Gildor might not be openly resisting any longer, but Finduilas certainly was.) They would be safely away before any definitive word about Ingo filtered in unless things went much worse than expected. Curufinwë didn’t mind being the villain, but he didn’t intend to be there to experience it firsthand.

It had sounded so simple.

And it might have been that simple, if not for three things.

First, Resto was remarkably sullen about having not been let in on the full plan in advance, and unwilling to be mollified by any assurance that they trusted him, but had thought him too fundamentally honest to hide that he was playing a role. (Curufinwë discovered to his discomfort that it had led to cross words between Resto and Merilin. Once he’d realized how he’d been manipulated, Resto had accurately guessed that his wife had not been kept in the dark as he had.)

As a result, he was less inclined to take advice than they’d expected, particularly about evacuating Nargothrond. While Ingo had ensured several of his council remained to help Resto keep the kingdom running smoothly and move everyone to safety, Resto wasn’t paying them much more heed than he was his Fëanorion kin. Curufinwë wasn’t sure if it was resentment, suspicion they were still withholding information, some notion of strategy on Resto’s part, a desire to thwart him and Tyelko, or bad memories of the retreat from Tol Sirion – or possibly all of them put together. Whatever the cause, it threatened to keep Nargothrond carrying on as normal until it was too late to avoid disaster.

The second problem was Finduilas’ relentless campaign to be allowed to stay – and to keep Gildor and Tyelpë as well. She proved to be a surprisingly wily opponent, though not quite the level Artanis had been at the same age. All the same, Curufinwë decided he had reason to be thankful for Resto’s lack of spine. For all his daughter could sweet talk him, stern reminders that Ingo had wanted the children safe, his in particular, worked every time.

Curufinwë started to suspect he was going to have to accept a partial victory. He could carry his point about Gildor, and about Tyelpë – truculent as he might be in general, Resto wasn’t about to argue with a father’s right to determine what was best for his own child, no matter how fond Findë was of the child in question. Moreover, Resto did agree that both Gilya and Merilin should depart for the Falas before winter set in, lest any delay in sending them away prove permanent and fatal. He even saw the good sense in sending kin with them in the form of Gildor and Tyelpë.

But Finduilas made it clear that even if she were commanded to leave by her father, she’d just loop right back to Nargothrond unless she was restrained. Curufinwë was willing to fight Resto on her staying, but he was less sanguine about adding to the risk for the guards that would be sent with the children. They’d be honor bound to either deal with the burden of a restrained fully adult princess or track down said princess if she wasn’t restrained. Either way, they would be at greater risk than was needful.

And after that initial bustup, he knew perfectly well he had no prayer of talking sense into the girl. Gildor had all but given it up, saying that Findë believed he was under the sway of “Curufin” and she wouldn’t hear another word from him on the subject.

Much later, Curufinwë would wonder if that was the moment when the girl’s fate was sealed, but in the moment he was simply frustrated that she was so obstinately refusing to see sense.

The third problem was one he couldn’t possibly have seen coming. He was sure Ingo hadn’t foreseen it either. He doubted anyone had.

---

“My prince, your brother has requested your presence in the stables. Urgently.”

It was one of Tyelko’s most trusted retainers who brought the message, and he looked nervous.

Curufinwë fought the urge to groan or rest his head on his worktable. What under the stars had Tyelko done now?

“I don’t suppose you care to give me any hints?” he asked tiredly.

“I only know the prince said it was one hell of a complication,” Roquendil replied fretfully.

“Wonderful,” Curufinwë muttered.

That told him nothing and could cover just about anything.

But he thanked his brother’s man all the same and dismissed him with the assurance he would go directly.

In all fairness, even if he’d had more of an idea what to expect, he still would have been astonished when he reached the stables. Tyelko was waiting, Huan with him. And there was someone else with them, cloaked and hooded.

“Go ahead,” Tyelko murmured to the mystery person.

Two delicate hands flipped the hood back to reveal night-dark hair and starlit grey eyes that were more than just elven. Curufinwë was in no doubt even before his brother spoke to introduce her that he was looking at Lúthien Thingoliel.

Nienna’s tears, but he pitied the poor mortal boy. Melian’s daughter was the fairest thing he’d seen on these shores, enough to turn a man’s head even if he hadn’t been wandering in the wilderness for a season first.

“Greetings, Prince Curufin,” she said.

She wasn’t trying to sing, but he heard the power and the Song all the same.

“This is Lúthien,” Tyelko said nervously. “I found her while we were out scouting in the direction of Amon Rûdh.”

“I knew Beren had come here seeking my cousin’s aid,” Lúthien said. “He told me before he left Menegroth that he would. Our intent was that I should follow. I knew my beloved would need more than just Finrod’s assistance to succeed. But my father delayed me.”

There was a faint echo of birdsong in her words, for all they were several rangar underground. It started out benign, but it carried the raucous notes of warning calls by the end. By the sound of it, the house of Thingol might not be at war with itself, but it was having quite the quarrel.

“Did my brother not think to tell you Beren and Ingo had already departed?” Curufinwë asked, doing his best to keep exasperation out of his voice.

He had no idea what Tyelko was thinking, but he felt certain that trying to manage this princess would be even worse a headache than dealing with the one they already had on hand. And Finduilas was not the daughter of a maia.

“He did,” Lúthien trilled. “Prince Celegorm has been gracious indeed! But I felt the time was not yet right to follow them, so I asked if I might bide here for a time. He was kind enough to agree.”

Curufinwë fought the urge to smack his head on the nearest solid surface. This was trouble. He knew this was trouble. He just wasn’t sure how much trouble or how best to mitigate it.

“I couldn’t just leave her out there,” Tyelko said defensively.

Curufinwë would have begged to differ, but he didn’t dare do it in front of her. So far as he could see, Melian’s daughter had been managing just fine on her own.

“How did you find her? Or was it you who found him, Princess?”

“Are we to remain so formal, even when only among ourselves?” she asked.

Wonderful. Not only another headstrong princess and half-maia to boot, but with the same lively sense of mischief as Irissë or Artë.

“You may call me as you like, my lady,” Curufinwë sighed. “I doubt I could stop you.”

“So dour! Very unlike what I heard of you from Galadriel,” she giggled. “We must cheer him up before we go our separate ways, Celegorm.”

“Huan found her,” his brother informed him, trying not to blush at the smile Lúthien had just favored him with. “Unless you called him?”

“I heard him before I saw him, but I wasn’t sure what to make of him,” Lúthien replied. “I had never heard music like his before.”

She frowned slightly, regarding Huan closely. Huan barked, which drew another smile from her, if not quite so brilliant as the one she had turned on Tyelko.

“Yes, I believe you will,” she told the dog gravely.

Huan gave another bark.

“I heard that also. Though how exactly remains to be seen.”

A disgruntled sounding whuff.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to explain for the rest of us?” Curufinwë prompted.

His brother occasionally claimed to interpret Huan’s barks, woofs, growls, and whimpers, but Lúthien sounded like she was carrying on an actual conversation - and not one she was making up.

“I’m afraid I’d rather not,” she smiled. “It’s best not to look too closely at some things. Trying too hard to see can skew matters. All I will say is that Huan is a brave and loyal companion, and will be so for some time to come.”

Huan preened at her words of praise. So did Tyelko. Curufinwë wasn’t sure who was worse, his brother or his brother’s dog.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted ten.

“Where did you intend to keep her?” he asked his brother.

“There’s a room in our suite not in use,” Tyelko said. “I thought she could stay there. Nargothrond  doesn’t need to know she’s here.”

“It would be best for everyone if they did not,” Lúthien added firmly. “Careless whispers can lead to unfortunate conclusions. The fewer people who know, the happier I shall be.”

“How are we to get her there unobserved?” Curufinwë demanded. “We’re three levels down, and several corridors over. And before you suggest something ridiculous, leaving her here with the horses until dinnertime is hardly likely to keep anyone from noticing!”

“Oh, it will be no trouble to not be noticed on the way to my room,” Lúthien assured him earnestly. “The only one who might see me is my cousin, but she won’t tell.”

“Loath though I am to contradict a lady, I am quite certain that anyone who sees you, hood or not, will notice we appear to be smuggling a woman into our rooms. It won’t improve our reputations, but it will be rather dire for yours should anyone realize exactly who that woman is.”

Lúthien laughed.

“I assure you, Curufin, no one will notice – and I require no hood to accomplish that.”

Tyelko grinned. He apparently had some idea what she meant to do.

Curufinwë was going to have the mother of all headaches by the end of the afternoon. This was not going anywhere he liked. He particularly distrusted the glances between his brother and Beren’s intended. She was already betrothed, for the love of Nienna, and they both knew it!

“Artanis did not do you justice, I think,” Lúthien mused. “Or perhaps she simply took for granted how much you worry about everyone around you. Would it lighten your heart if I promised you did not need to worry for me?”

“I can’t say that it would, my lady. Here in Beleriand, I do not think even your mother could hold to such a promise.”

That got a silvery laugh that somehow echoed both Aunt Eärwen, Kano’s mate Lindë, and every songbird he’d ever heard. Then she swooped over to kiss his forehead.

“Very well. I make you no promise, but I am confident all the same that you need not worry. Now, will you show me the way? I have been some days underway and a bathing room would be a welcome sight…”

---

“Lúthien?”

“Here?”

Resto and Merilin sounded equally bemused.

“Yes. I’m not sure if we should tell the young ones or not,” Curufinwë said. “Her presence is not meant to be generally known. I leave it to your discretion.”

“No,” Merilin said decisively, without waiting for Resto to weigh in. “Gilya is too young to understand that he cannot mention her presence to others, and I don’t want to put his sister in the position of having to hide from him that she is here.”

Resto nodded uncertainly.

“In that case, I suppose Gildor ought not be told either,” he said thoughtfully. “Generally what one of them knows, the other does also. What of your Celebrimbor?”

“Awkward as it is, I can see no way to conceal her from him,” Curufinwë sighed. “She’s staying in our suite. I know my son is sometimes slow to notice what’s going on outside of his workshop, but I’ll be rather disturbed if he manages to overlook another person in our rooms.”

Resto chuckled.

“Lúthien is not exactly subtle. Or easy to overlook!”

“She is when she wishes to be,” Merilin said sharply. “Will Celebrimbor mention her to Finduilas?”

“Not if I tell him not to,” Curufinwë said firmly.

Merilin looked slightly dubious at that, but said nothing. At least, not until he was leaving and she found an excuse to catch him in the corridor.

“Are you certain he won’t share with her? They have grown rather close.”

For a moment, Curufinwë was confused. Then he realized what she meant.

“They have, but only in the sense that your daughter is happy to have more like-aged kin at hand. Especially given the situation with Gwindor, she leans more on Tyelpë and Gildor rather than take too many troubles or worries to him.”

Finduilas’ intended had returned with Resto from Tol Sirion. His elder brother had perished in the Sudden Flame, and like so many, his body had not been recovered. This left his father and brother caught in the cruel hope that he might somehow have survived and could yet return.

Findë, daughter of a princess of Doriath, did not share such optimism, but she also could not find it in her Arafinwean heart to lay Gwindor’s hope to rest. She settled for being as cheerful and kind as she could to him, and keeping as much that would upset him further to herself.

Curufinwë did not think it a sustainable state of affairs, much less a healthy one. But it was not his place to comment when neither his opinion nor his advice had been asked. Though he did note Findë had not said a word about wedding since Gwindor’s return.

“You think it only that?” Merilin asked.

Curufinwë nodded.

“I believe Findë is happy to have someone she can spend time with whose moods are less fraught than young Gwindor – without anyone whispering that she’s abandoning her intended.”

Merilin’s expression was uncomfortably close to Silmë’s ‘I think you’ve missed something rather important’ face. It was a bit unsettling.

“If it’s anything more than that, Findë is going to have to be extraordinarily blunt with Tyelpë,” Curufin added. “I’m sure he sees it as I do. If he sees that much.”

Actually, he was fairly sure Tyelpë was the same sort of oblivious Moryo was – a woman might have to club him over the head to get him to notice her interest. (He had advised that tactic to more than one lady in Tirion. Alas, they hadn’t taken his advice and his brother was unattached.)

“Besides,” he continued. “If there was more to it than that, I would think she would be pushing for Tyelpë to stay. So far she’s confined her efforts to Gildor.”

“You don’t mean to allow either of them to remain, do you?” Merilin asked quietly.

“Absolutely not. It is not only my wish, but Ingo’s, that they go to the Falas.”

“Good.”

That one word summed up Merilin’s position. She looked immensely relieved to hear him so adamant.

“When do you mean to depart?” he asked.

“I thought at first to be gone before the winter snows, but if Lúthien is here… I do not know. I once again feel we stand at a crossroads where all choices may go ill.”

Curufinwë privately agreed, but didn’t want to unsettle her by saying so.

“As long as there is no sign of an orc host sweeping down from the mountains, I do not think it urgent enough that you need to depart.”

“Yet,” Merilin murmured. “I will speak with my cousin. She may have news from Menegroth, or better still, some idea how it goes with Finrod.”