and let's be winners by mistake by atlantablack  

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and let's be winners by mistake

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You showed me feelings I've never felt before
We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door
And how can you expect me not to eat
When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?

Sinners | Lauren Aquilina

☀︎

Haleth

"Move farther north," Caranthir says to her a month after the attack, gaze steady on her even as his hands continue briskly gutting fish. "There is plenty of land closer to my fortress, and my people can help protect yours if there is another attack."

Haleth looks up from her own fish, frowning a bit at the sight he makes. Even after a month, she hasn't grown used to the sight of this elvish prince so casually working with the rest of them. She opens her mouth to refuse, proud of her people and their independence, having no desire to be indebted to anyone, but the words catch in her throat as she meets his eyes. She thinks treacherously of his mouth against the inside of her wrist, and what comes out instead is, "How close to your keep are you trying to drag us? And what is the cost?"

A thin thread of tension unspools from his shoulders. "As close as I can convince you to move," he says, smiling wryly at her nonplussed stare. "And there is no cost, other than your continued refusal to bow to Morgoth, and your support when needed in fighting the orcs that try to encroach on our lands." There's a glint of humor in his eyes as he says it.

"I do not believe you," she tells him, ignoring the warmth that blooms in her chest when his eyes crinkle in amusement. He looks so grim all of the time that it makes her feel victorious to have won true amusement from him.

"There would be no cost, truly," he says, and he is either genuine or a very good liar. "I only find it amusing thinking of how my brothers would react to such a statement." She raises her eyebrow questioningly, and his grin is all teeth as he responds, "My brothers are well used to me extracting a cost for everything from everyone. They would not believe me either."

"Yet you wish me to."

"I wish to offer you what safety I can. I have no need of anything in return other than what I have already stated.”

She looks back to the fish, considering her options. Thinks of her brother's son, still so terribly small, and how very badly she wants to keep him safe. Thinks too of her mother, her aunt, all of her people who she so desperately wishes to protect. And lastly, the least important of it all, despite what her heart seems to want to think, she thinks of Caranthir. Thinks of the light that shines in his eyes and the way he'd stared wide-eyed at her when he'd ridden up and found her covered in blood and in the process of ripping an orcs throat apart with her hands, her sword having been knocked out of them. Thinks of how he's conceded to her every order while he's been in what remains of their village and has not once tried to impose his commands upon her. The way his soldiers looked to him and then so easily followed suit without a single complaint.

She is proud of her people and their independence. But it is easier to be proud of people when they are alive. It is perhaps foolish to trust these elves with their shining eyes but— 

“Very well,” she says, politely ignoring the way his gaze snaps to her face, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. "We will go north. I suppose if you get on my nerves it will be easy enough to leave."

"I will do my best not to do so," he says after a moment. They do not speak of the rest of it, but he shifts until his foot is pressed against hers. She does not allow herself to smile, but she presses back and welcomes the warmth that spreads through her chest.

☀︎

Caranthir

Caranthir mentally writes out a well-organized list of reasons why courting an Edain woman is an awful idea. Ranging from the worst, she will die far too soon, to the most trivial, his brothers will poke fun at him far more than he cares for if they find out. He considers the list. Weighs it against Haleth’s vicious smile and the soft brown of her eyes.

He reminds himself that he is not in the habit of denying himself what small scraps of happiness can be found in this accursed land and, with that in mind, discards the entire list. He invites her to move closer to Lake Helevorn, where his fortress is, so that she and her people will be better protected. He lingers in her village, assisting with their preparations and journey where he can.

Two months later, when he shows up and formally makes his intentions toward her plain, she laughs. Says, "I believe all of my people have figured out your intentions toward me by now. You have not been subtle.”

He considers this. Considers his faith in the loyalty of his followers, his faith in the loyalty of hers. Still asks, "Do you not think we should be discreet?"

She raises her eyebrows at him, unimpressed with the question. "If you wanted us to be discreet, you should not have spent so much time helping us move up here."

He concedes the point and they do not speak of it again.

☀︎

The first time she kisses him, stepping in between his legs as he sits on the steps leading into her house, he feels a great well of joy in his chest suddenly sing itself so full it threatens to overflow. Holds her close and finds himself suddenly terrified of the day that will come when she leaves him. It is almost enough to make him want to pray.

Almost. 

Except that he turned his back on the Valar the moment he left Tirion and he certainly isn’t going to pray to them now. Not even for this. In the back of his mind however, pressing against his skull, trying to break free, he is whispering, please, give us as much time as you can. We know she has to go eventually, but please, let her stay for as long as she can.

☀︎

Two years pass peacefully in such a way, and it is peaceful apart from the occasional orc skirmish that occurs. One day, as they're sitting in the sun — Haleth attempting to sew Halden some new clothes and Caranthir frowning at one of his supply ledgers — she looks over at him and says, “We should get married.”

He looks up and blinks at her, his mind twisting the words around and around as he tries to figure out where they had suddenly come from. “Did you know, when we lived in Tirion, it was expected for engagements to last at least a year.”

She snorts and then dissolves into laughter at whatever it is she sees on his face. “My deepest apologies,” she says, sounding anything but. “Have I deeply scandalized your elven sensibilities?”

“A bit perhaps,” he says dryly, in fact feeling slightly scandalized despite himself. But, given the circumstances. “Why now? We have not spoken of it before.”

“Why not?” she asks, shrugging a bit. She doesn’t meet his eyes as she says, “It isn’t as if I am going to get younger.”

It feels for a moment as if a great vice has taken hold of his heart and is squeezing it. He pushes the feeling away with some difficulty and breathes out slowly. "Indeed." He studies her for a moment, the barely visible tension in the curve of her neck, the too-tight grip she has on the clothing. "Is it even possible for us to get married?" He hadn't given it much thought yet, the idea of marriage simply not having entered his mind.

"Why in Elbereth's name would it not be?" she returns, frowning at him. "We make our vows in front of people, pray for a blessing, and then we are married."

"Ah." He does not think her people's version of marriage quite matches his now that he considers it. He spends a bit explaining Noldorin marriage customs to her, emphasizing the way they mingle their souls together to create the marriage bond, how its presence would be clearly visible to any who looked at them, how it links them intrinsically together so that they can share their minds with each other.

She considers this and then shrugs. “I do not know if we can do that. We do not have such tangible bonds when we marry. Though we can certainly try. But we could get married by the customs of men quite easily.”

He meets her eyes, dislikes the just barely visible uncertainty that she’s shown about nothing else in life. Abandons his book to lean closer and kiss her, brushing his knuckles across her cheek and marveling at the warmth that spreads through him, as if it is still the first time they’d kissed. “Then yes,” he says when he pulls back, “let us get married.” She smiles so brightly he has to kiss her again just to get a taste of the light lingering in her smile.

“I’m not inviting my family though,” he says later, when they’re once again back to their respective tasks.

“They cannot be that terrible,” she says, frowning a bit at the grim look he knows has fallen on his face.

It is not that he thinks his brothers are terrible. He loves them very much for all that they annoy him deeply. And if he could get away with only inviting Maedhros, then perhaps he would. But if Maedhros comes, then Maglor will follow. And if Maglor knows, then inevitably Curufin and Celegorm will find out. And Celegorm will take it upon himself to tell the Ambarussa if for no other reason than to spite Caranthir. 

Six brothers holding the secret of his marriage is a far cry from no brothers at all. It is not, of course, that his brothers cannot keep a secret, only that Caranthir is not quite sure he trusts their definition of secrecy to match his. Caranthir refuses to let Haleth’s name reach Morgoth's ears if he can at all help it and the easiest way to accomplish that is to let it go no further than their peoples ears. He explains as much to her, and then, because he hasn't yet spoken much of his family and she still looks curious, he keeps talking. It would be ill to enter a marriage without telling her of his entire sordid family history. He tells her all of it—Morgoth and Tirion, his father and the oath, Alqualondë and Losgar, his father's death.

She's silent as he speaks, and when he runs out of words, she sets her sewing aside and scoots closer so that she can wrap her arms around him. He blinks down at the top of her head in bemusement, not sure what reaction he had expected, safely able to say that this had not been it. He still hugs her back, always pleased to have her close.

“It all sounds very complicated,” she says after a while. “Unnecessarily complicated. But I thank you for telling me.”

He breathes in deeply and presses his lips to the crown of her head. Feels a whisper of a prayer try to sneak its way up his throat. Please, he swallows back down, please, let the doom skip her. I know it is too late, that I’ve already selfishly dragged her into my orbit. But please, let the doom skip her.

☀︎

Haleth

Haleth had not truly thought, even as she moved her people north, that whatever interest Caranthir seemed to have in her would last. It had seemed so absurd that an elf who had seen centuries and centuries pass would be interested in someone whose life must feel like a blink of the eye.

But interested he had been and interested he had stayed. Haleth does not know how to defend herself from a prince who bends so easily for her and touches her as if she's something precious; even while delighting in her sharp smile and sharper tongue. Does not know how she could possibly be expected to do anything but grab onto him with both hands and greedily take everything he offers. Her life is short in comparison to his, and she has seen the preemptive grief already trying to pierce its way through him when he's reminded of this, but if there is already to be grief, then should they not at least make the entire affair worth it? 

“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” she asks her mother in passing, 

Her mother stares at her intently for a moment, sweeping her gaze over Haleth from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes. Haleth does not know what she is looking for or if she finds it. “Do you love him?” 

“I do,” she says. She loves him more than she’d thought she’d be able to love someone whose life seemed so vastly incomprehensible to her at times. 

Her mother nods and moves to go back to her work. “Then it is not a mistake. You will still love him if you send him away. Why waste your life on regret?” 

She takes her mother’s words to heart. Tells Caranthir, let's get married, and they do. Two months after she'd asked they have a celebration at his fortress, her entire village making the trek, and it is a celebration in truth. Her people are merry and laughing, and his people are glittering and joyous in return.

Later, he presses her up against the door of his room and kisses her until her head spins. She digs her fingers into his hair and pulls, sets her teeth to his neck, smiling as he shivers. He tries to explain the elven way of marriage, the way they meld their souls together. He presses his mind to hers, his thoughts mingling with her own, and oh, what a strange, strange sensation it is to not be alone in her own head. She cannot quite figure out how to reach out in return, but she does her best to welcome him in, to offer the same level of commitment she can feel radiating from him.

As they press each other into the bed, his mouth trailing a brand of heat down her skin, she prays. He will not, or cannot, but she prays for them both. Digs her nails into his shoulders and prays, please, I know one day I must die and leave him, but give us as much time as you can. Let me stay at his side for as long as possible. Let my soul mingle with his.

A soft, twisting coil of light settles in the back of her mind as he moves above her, and she can abruptly feel the vivid, blazing warmth of his soul nestled against hers. Is suddenly viciously aware of every inch of him, every breath. Gasps his name and twists so that she is pinning him to the bed instead; takes his desperation and uses it as kindling for her prayers. Please, she prays, please, let me stay at his side, please, I do not fear death but please, let me stay at his side regardless. Does the world not deserve some happiness to balance out the death? Please. Please.

Please. Just let me stay.

She does not think she is still praying for the same thing she had been at the start. Feels filled to the brim and overflowing, unused to carrying another's emotions as well as her own. She does not know how she's meant to ask for anything less when she can feel how badly he wants her to stay. She is not even sure she'd realized the depth of her own feelings until they were spinning out to meet his. A collision of yearning whittled down to its most basic component — the compulsive need to simply be with the one you yearn for.

Later, when the desperation has worn itself down to the steady beat of their hearts, she lies awake, stubbornly practicing until she can reach for the bond lying between them as easily as he does. She does not think she would be able to reach out to anyone else, but she can reach for him, which is all that matters in this instance.

"I did not expect it to work," he tells her the next morning, curiously prodding at the bond. "But maybe…” He doesn't finish the thought, but she catches it anyway. The whispered end of her prayer and the muted hope that the bond means it has been answered. They never speak the hope out loud, but it lingers in the back of their minds regardless.

Their marriage had been blessed. 

That does not mean the rest of the prayer was answered too.

☀︎

She had not understood the true gravity of what Caranthir had meant when he'd said, we swore an oath. Not until she could feel his soul intertwined with her own.

The oath is oil slick and clings to his soul, a thin film of discontent always ready to choke him that he cannot be rid of until it is completed. It does not touch her despite the way they're wrapped together and she wonders occasionally, if she could twist her way around Caranthir's soul so fully it obliterated the oath. 

She does not truly think it would work. Does not think she has the skill for it even if it would. But sometimes, she wonders.

☀︎

Caranthir

Caranthir finds, to his bemusement, that while the marriage bond is easily visible in his eyes, as is to be expected, it is not visible at all in Haleth's despite the clear bond he can feel between them. He doesn't bother trying to come up with a theory as to why, only decides he is thankful that it makes it harder for the enemy to find out about her.

Nyaro curiously questions him about the bond, quill poised to take notes the entire time. He forbids their names from being written, but answers the questions. It is not entirely out of the question that such a marriage will happen again and it will be good to have records documenting theirs. 

He finds that it is a curious sensation to never be alone anymore. Even when Haleth stays in the village with her people, he can easily feel her, know of her safety, speak with her as she lies down to sleep. He would not have thought to suggest marriage, but he is pleased with the result. Is pleased at how much easier he finds it to concentrate on other matters when he has her safety well-assured at all times.

And if he sometimes thinks of the prayers she'd been bleeding from her thoughts, thinks of the way they had ended. If sometimes he thinks the bond shouldn't have worked. If he thinks maybe he should take it as a sign that Eru has not abandoned them, that his marriage is blessed despite the doom on him. If he thinks on it, then he is still careful to not let himself hope for the impossible.

☀︎

Life goes on and there is a wary peace in Thargelion at the lack of significant movement from Morgoth. He never stops being prepared, but neither does he spend all of his time uselessly worrying.

Ten years into their marriage, Maedhros comes to visit. He always says that these visits are to ensure everyone is well prepared for any attacks and that no one has done anything stupid. Caranthir thinks he just misses them. Thinks that Angband left a bigger scar than any of them can possibly comprehend and sometimes Maedhros must see them face-to-face in order to believe they are well.

Haleth is in the library with him when Neumiel comes in to announce his brother's arrival, and he sighs, sure this conversation is going to go sideways quickly.

"Do you want me to leave?" Haleth asks, glancing at Neumiel.

"Not unless you wish to.” She is not a shameful secret; he simply does not wish to have this conversation with his brother.

The first thing Maedhros does when he enters is look at Haleth, eyes flicking over her as he assesses if she's a threat, and then he dismisses her with a glance. A mistake if Caranthir has ever seen one, and judging by the irritation suddenly filtering through their bond, Haleth viciously agrees. When Maedhros halts halfway across the room to study him, Caranthir stares back, eyebrow raised, waiting.

He can see the exact moment Maedhros realizes the bond, for his jaw actually goes slack with shock. His eyes dart once more to Haleth, scrutinizing and then dismissing her once again when he sees no bond in her eyes. "You got married," Maedhros says, not quite accusing but still a shade too sharp to be approving.

"Obviously," he responds dryly.

"Who are they?" Maedhros demands. "You could not have sent a missive telling me?"

Haleth is really and truly irritated at being dismissed not once, but twice. If you had looked at me like that when we met, we would not be married, she thinks, and he sends back a burst of amusement. "It doesn't matter who they are," he tells Maedhros, never one to pass up an opportunity to annoy him. "And I did not send a missive because I did not wish it to be intercepted."

Maedhros easily concedes that point at least. "And why will you not tell me their name?"

"Consider it payback for keeping your own relationship from us for centuries," he says, smirking at the irritation sweeping over Maedhros' face.

"That was different."

"Was it? Perhaps I've also married one of our cousins."

He gets a flat glare in return. "You have not. Even if any were available for you to marry, you care for none of them."

Haleth snorts at that, having heard much about his cousins at this point. "I don't know," she says out loud, drawing Maedhros' gaze again. "From what you've told me of Turgon, I think he'd be an ideal choice. A hidden city where no one can find you? Guaranteed safety sounds appealing."

The disgusted look he shoots her is very real. "Even if I did lose all taste and common sense, Turgon would rather kill me than marry me," he tells her, rolling his eyes at the amusement on her face.

There's a slowly dawning comprehension blooming across Maedhros' face, which is almost insulting. He would have hoped it would take more than one mild interaction for his brother to guess at the truth of his relationship with Haleth. Maedhros looks at Caranthir for a moment, brow furrowed, and then turns his gaze back to Haleth. She narrows her eyes in return.

"I assume you are both aware of the risks," Maedhros says finally. "I think you are both foolish, but I am happy for you." He looks Caranthir in the eyes as he says it, and he is genuine in both sentiments. Caranthir can't even deny it. For it is foolish.

"We are happy," he agrees. His brother's face softens infinitesimally. "If you keep quiet, then you will be the only person outside of our people who knows of our marriage. We are being careful."

Maedhros looks as if he wants to argue, but Haleth cuts in first. "Spar with me," she demands, standing and flinging her book onto the table. "Moryo says you are the best fighter he knows."

The startled look that flashes across Maedhros' face at the nickname is amusing. The idea of his wife fighting his brother, even in good humor, less so. "I'm not sure—" Maedhros starts.

"Spar me," she says again, lifting her chin. "I have been curious how I'd fare."

Please do not rip my brother's throat out with your hands.

She snorts, grinning at him. "I make no promises," she says, ignoring the questioning look on Maedhros' face. "Come, let's go. I'm Haleth by the way, since you didn't ask." She breezes out of the room without waiting for a response. Maedhros stares after her in bemusement.

Looks to Caranthir, says, "I see why you like her." And then, after a moment, eyes full of pity. "I'm sorry you will not have more time with her."

In the back of his mind, there's a whisper of a remembered prayer but he pushes it away. "Who is to say how much time we will have," he says, just to be obstinate. "Let's go. I'm curious to see how this goes."

"She is tiny," Maedhros says doubtfully. "You cannot believe—"

"I believe she'll do better than you're expecting." He waits until they're halfway to the training grounds to say, "The first time I saw her, she was in the process of ripping out an orc's throat with her hands because she'd lost her sword." Maedhros shoots him an exasperated look at the affectionate tone he can't quite suppress. "Then she yelled at me for not showing up sooner and told me to either go away or roll my sleeves up and be useful in helping with the aftermath."

Maedhros laughs roughly. "An ostentatious story. Atar would approve."

There's a moment of silence, both of them considering those words. But. "He would, wouldn't he." He does not specify that he means Atar from their life before the silmarils. Atar when he hadn't yet been too lost inside his own grief and fury to care about much of anything else. The Atar of his childhood would have looked at Haleth and her vicious fighting, the way she takes up space unapologetically and refuses to bend for anyone else, and he would have approved. He always thinks he's past wanting his father's approval but the thought still sends a rush of pride through him.

“Do not tell anyone else about this," he says. "We do not wish for the news to spread."

"If that is your wish," Maedhros agrees easily. Caranthir would take more comfort in the agreement if it were not for the fact that when Maedhros says he'll tell no one, what he most often means is, he’ll tell no one but Fingon and Maglor. So, he supposes it is more a matter of when someone will find out, not if.

☀︎

Haleth does not win her fight against Maedhros. But she does leave him with several new bruises and a bite mark on his arm from when he'd grabbed her that would need stitches if she'd bitten any harder.

He looks at her afterwards, wryly says, “You would do well to learn from Celegorm as well. Your fighting styles are similar.”

Caranthir does think Maedhros truly means that as a compliment but she grins and convinces him to go again. Caranthir leans against a wall, watching them spar, and thinks quietly to himself, let me keep this. It isn't a prayer. But he almost wants it to be.

☀︎

Haleth

They've been married for eighteen years when Haleth's nephew looks at her and mildly comments, "You know, I would swear, you look the same now as you did when I was still a child. Strange, isn't it?”

She stares at him. Makes herself properly take in that the little nephew who had followed on her heels around the village when they'd first settled is now a man grown with a wife of his own. Glances down at the lake, at her reflection, and thinks, maybe. Pushes the thought away before it can fully form. “Strange,” she agrees and does not say anything more. 

But she cannot stop the words from lingering in her mind throughout the week. Silently passes the memory to Caranthir one night and meets his eyes he goes still. He stares at her, eyes sweeping over her face and down her body. "How old are you now?" he asks, as if he doesn't know.

“Fifty-four years come this winter." She does not mention the realization she'd had, that the girls she'd grown up with look visibly older in a way that is so obvious she does not know how she hadn’t been forced to realize this earlier. Does not mention that she could still easily say she was thirty-six and be believed by any who did not know her. But he dips into her thoughts and the swell of terrified hope that rushes through him overwhelms her as well.

They don't speak of it again. But in the back of their minds, whenever she looks in a mirror, and he hugs her from behind, they're both holding up side-by-side comparisons of then and now. They're both thinking, was the prayer actually answered, but too scared to think on it too hard for fear they'll jinx it.

At night sometimes, when she's mostly asleep, and he thinks she won't notice, he presses his mouth to the back of her neck and mouths, please, please don't leave. He would refuse to call it a prayer, but she catches it in her palm and sends it out as one regardless. Please, she thinks, please, let us keep this.

☀︎

Despite her best efforts, she does think about it. About the seriousness of it. Tries to imagine still being here in a century, in two. In watching her nephew and his children and their children live and die. Cannot wrap her mind around the concept. Thinks maybe, if she’d thought this was truly an option, she’d have given the idea of marriage the slightest bit more thought.

She does not fear death but neither does she wish for it. It simply is something that will one day come to pass. Now, she is having to consider, that one day soon, she may have to rearrange her worldview. She had not thought this would be granted, no matter how earnestly she prayed. Does not know if it was the prayer or that they married by the customs of Caranthir’s people as well and his soul is now wrapped around hers. Figures it must be both.

The proof is already laid in front of her, a stark answer to a question she does not dare ask. Most days though, she is still too scared to hope. She ignores the looks from her people that are becoming more frequent, keeps the words beneath her tongue, and waits.

☀︎

Caranthir

Eventually, the frequent mingling of their people ends up resulting in another marriage between an elf and an Edain. It was perhaps inevitable that it would happen eventually, but Caranthir cannot help but feel surprised regardless.

When the couple turns up the morning after their marriage, Rimdis has a marriage bond clear and bright in her eyes, and yet still, there is no visible sign of one in the eyes of the Edain woman, Ilith. He is curious now as to what that means, but still does not allow himself to think too deeply on the matter. Would not know what to think regardless.

☀︎

They've been married for twenty-eight years when they look at each other and Haleth says, "I'm sixty-four. I don't think I'm going to grow old anytime soon."

Caranthir can't help the relieved laugh that spills out of him as he picks her up and spins her around. They've quietly known for the last decade. But he'd still been waiting for something to go wrong. The doom was not lifted. It still casts a long shadow over the Noldor, and he cannot believe that something this joyful is being allowed. But there is no more denying the truth staring them in the face.

They still do not know how long this will last. If she will one day begin aging again. They do not know what happens if she dies. He finds it unlikely that the gift of re-embodiment would be offered when she is still one of the Edain, regardless of her lengthened life span. But even this is still a gift unexpected and unbelievable.

It is also, they realize later, a danger. For this is new and unprecedented and Caranthir does not know what Morgoth would do with this news, but he knows it would be nothing good. He does not know what anyone would do with this news, but he cannot trust that it would all be good. Their people have long suspected what has happened, though none had confronted them, and they accept easily the order that this information is not to be spread. He does not think they would have spread it even if nothing had been said, but he knows the dangers of assuming.

Ilith and Rimdis come to them later, eyes bright with hope. They compare notes and in the end, come to the only conclusion they ca—there is no way to know. Even if Ilith does stop aging, that still does not guarantee it will work for every union. Only that it’s worked for them.

Caranthir can't help but begin to wonder if maybe, being abandoned by the Valar does not necessarily mean being fully abandoned by Eru. A thought he would not have even thought to entertain a century ago, but he does not know what else he is meant to think.

He doesn't know. But one night, a few days after they acknowledge the gift, he looks at the sky, and for the first time since they swore that forsaken oath, he prays. Thank you, he whispers to the wind, I do not trust you. I do not know how to anymore, if I ever did at all. But thank you.

☀︎

Ten years later, Curufin and Celegorm storm the keep, and the first thing Celegorm says when they slam into his office is, "You got married!"

Caranthir sighs, surprised honestly that it took them this long to find out. Perhaps he should have given Maedhros more credit for how long he could keep a secret. He ignores them while he finishes the calculations he'd been in the middle of. This was not how he'd wanted to spend his day.

"Maedhros says you have been married these last forty years! And you did not tell us!" Curufin exclaims.

"Last fifty," he corrects mildly, smirking at the offense that grows on their faces.

"Well," Celegorm says, eyebrows raised expectantly, "who is she? Maedhros knows but refused to tell us even her name."

"As I told Maedhros, it is not your concern. If you cannot figure it out as he did, then you will live without knowing."

"I'd accuse you of lying about the marriage completely if I could not see the bond myself," Curufin mutters, looking suspiciously around the room as if that will help him divine the answer. When he finds nothing, he turns back to glower at Caranthir.

"I do not understand why you feel it necessary to keep whoever it is you've married a secret," Curufin snaps at him after realizing glowering at Caranthir will get him nowhere.

"Because I see no reason to tell you and would really rather you not harass them."

"Aw, come on, Caranthir," Celegorm says with a shit-eating grin, "would we really do that?"

"Yes," he says flatly. "You harassed Fingon and you already knew him."

They both scoff at him. "He deserved that," Curufin says. "Keeping it a secret for centuries and not telling us." 

He valiantly does not point out that he has also kept it a secret and would have for the next couple of centuries if given the chance. Lets out another long-suffering sigh as Curufin launches into a speech about why they should be told.

"It matters not what arguments you have to present," he says, cutting Curufin off. "I will not be telling you. The fewer people outside of Thargelion who know her name, the better."

"You really think they'd target her?" Celegorm asks, cocking his head curiously.

"I do not know, but I will not risk it more than I must." The idea of Haleth being taken is a dreadful one and he will not tolerate it.

"And what about the men? You've let an entire village settle very close to you. You do not worry that they will turn traitor?"

"No." He does not say, if I could convince them to move behind our walls, I would. Though, with how closely their people mingle now because of them, he may very well be able to given a few more decades. 

Celegorm and Curufin both give him queer looks and exchange a glance that he doesn't care for. Later, when he's finally gotten them to go away and leave him be until dinner, he reaches out to Haleth, who's been down in her village for the past week. He had hoped that she would return soon but now fears his brothers may have ruined that for him. My brothers are here, he tells her. Celegorm and Curufin. They are curious about you.

Celegorm is the one Maedhros said I might do well to learn to fight from, she questions, curiosity swelling up between them.

Yes, he says, amused at how eager she is. I'm sure he'd be delighted to fight you. Though I should warn, he also bites.

Then I will have to bite harder. Do you think they will figure us out as quickly as Maedhros did?

I dearly hope not. But I suppose we will find out.

☀︎

Celegorm and Curufin do not, in fact, figure it out despite Haleth coming back to the keep and demanding that Celegorm spar with her. They give her many strange looks and do not seem to know what to do with what must surely seem a strangely close relationship between his and Haleth’s people. But they do not figure it out.

She spars with Celegorm for several hours and comes out of it with a bloody nose and far too many bruises. She is still sweat-soaked and grinning despite this. He'd be more annoyed if she hadn't managed to kick Celegorm hard enough that she'd bruised his ribs. They're both entirely too gleeful about the entire affair, and Curufin, standing next to him as they watch, snorts in amusement.

“She’s a vicious little thing,” he says. “No wonder you keep her village around.”

He tells Curufin the same story he'd told Maedhros. Better controls his voice this time, but must still sound too fond, for Curufin throws him a strange look and then looks speculatively at Haleth.

But Haleth still looks young, and fifty years is a long time for one of the Edain. So, despite his confusion, Curufin dismisses it. Two weeks later, when they finally leave, disgruntled and irritated, they still haven't figured it out. Caranthir watches them leave with a relieved sigh and wonders how much longer he'll be able to keep this secret if either of them mentions Haleth to Maedhros.

☀︎

Haleth

When a trading caravan comes through, sometime after Haleth has passed her 90th year, she goes to introduce herself and then falters at the last moment, introducing Haldan as their chieftain instead. Gives a false name and claims herself as a distant cousin.

Haldan doesn't even blink at the abrupt change and waits until they're alone to say, "I was curious when you would realize it is no longer wise to have your name still spreading as one who is alive."

She snorts, ruffling his hair and laughing when he scowls at her. No matter their ages, he will always be her little cousin. "I think it might be time I turn the chieftainship over to you fully. I likely should have done so years ago."

"Don't disappear forever on us when you do."

"I'd never," she tells him. "I'll still be here to help wherever is needed."

☀︎

Caranthir

Ilith turns fifty-four and they all stare at each other as they accept that she also has stopped aging. Caranthir hates that there's no way to know for sure why this is happening or if it is permanent. Hates that it all relies on blind faith.

Haleth hugs Ilith tight, and he knows, even if she never says it, that a future of watching her loved ones die is not one that she is eager to greet. Knows that even as she feels the same joy he does at not having to part, she is also grieving what she's losing.

He is happy that she will have someone who can understand where he can't.

☀︎

Haleth

She starts wearing her hair in a way that covers the top of her ears when traders and random travelers pass through. Finds that people easily believe what they want to see, and if she is married to an elf, then an elf she must be. 

It is dishonest in a way she doesn’t care for, but she knows one day, regardless of how careful they are, the truth will get out, and she doesn't know what that will mean, but she isn't very eager to find out.

Then one of the men in her village weds an elf and does not stop aging. Aldan laughs when they realize, says he didn't particularly care to live forever anyway. Îdhel cries bitterly when they realize but will say only that she would not wish to keep him where he didn't wish to be.

She thinks back to the desperate prayer she'd sent out on her wedding night. The plea to just let her stay, please, just let her have more time with him, and knows even then that she'd held no doubt in her heart that she'd meant it regardless of what form it took. Speaks to Ilith about it one day and hears her own thoughts echoed back to her. Wonders if the difference isn't as simple a question as whether or not the mortal one is truly willing to give that up.

She's heard the elves call mortality the gift of men, always with doubtful looks, but she only now thinks that perhaps it truly is. And she, it would seem, has by this logic given it up. Ilith shrugs when Haleth shares this theory. Says, "I knew the risks from watching you. I want to be with Rimdis far more than I fear the endless future."

Caranthir kisses her hard when she tells him the theory. Paints her body with kisses until that same wordless desperation to never leave swells up within her again. She kisses him back just as hard and sends out a prayer promising to never take this for granted. She knows that eventually, whether it's a hundred or five hundred years from now, the passing of years will begin to weigh on her. But even then, she promises, even then, she will not take it for granted.

☀︎

"the love was there.
it didnt change anything.
it didnt save anyone.
there were just too many forces against it.
but it still matters that the love was there."

source

---

Chapter End Notes

This was born from me thinking about how I just think that it's silly Idril is the ONLY elf to get a happy ending in an elf/human relationship (not counting Luthien since she did like fade and become a human so that's like, a whole other ballpark) but it's CLEARLY possible for the humans to just casually live forever too if Eru feels like it, so. He felt like it. Also I think the idea of elves showing up to Valinor with their human spouses and the Valar being like ?????? would be really funny. I did at one point have like half a plot thought up of how this was meant to go all the way up until the war of wrath but...did I write those notes down literally anywhere? No. No I did not. Maybe one day it'll come back to me though. I'm also on Tumblr!