Chapter Text
Celegorm knew as soon as he laid eyes on his nephew that Celebrimbor had been drinking. Not just because Celegorm’s sensitive nose could pick up the scent of one of Finrod’s best wines on Celebrimbor’s breath, or because Celebrimbor was holding himself more loosely than usual, but because everything about him said that he was about to reveal more than was advisable.
But then, Celebrimbor always revealed too much, with his large, expressive mouth, and his open, honest face – far too honest a face for their family, Celegorm sometimes thought; perhaps he got it from his mother. Tonight Celegorm, who had lived his whole life trying to read faces that hid far more, knew with one look all that Celebrimbor would conceal.
He stretched out in his chair, watching Celebrimbor draw close to the fire. “Ho, nephew.”
“Oh,” said Celebrimbor, turning on the hearthrug and nearly sloshing wine from the glass in his hand. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“It is my room,” said Celegorm, propping his head on his hand as he rested one elbow on the chair’s arm. “What did you expect to find in here, Huan playing cards with a bunch of palace dogs?”
“You know,” said Celebrimbor, with a big, too loose smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Then the smile flicked away as quickly as it had come. “I wanted to see if my father was here. He’s not.”
“He’s not,” agreed Celegorm.
“I knew he wasn’t,” said Celebrimbor, almost to himself. “I knew. But I still wanted to see, on the off chance…” He sighed heavily and wandered over to all but pour himself over the back over the chair, his wine glass still dangling loosely from one hand. “The king is in his quarters,” he said, apparently apropos of nothing, and Celegorm leaned away from his wine-heavy exhale. “The door is closed.”
“Aye.” Celegorm eyed the level in the wine glass, half empty. “Likes his privacy, does our cousin.”
“Orodreth,” said Celebrimbor, his head swaying a little, “Orodreth met me in the halls. Said some things…”
Celegorm winced and pulled himself up. “Did he now? What sort of things?” He began to calculate how much hell he should be giving the king’s brother come the morrow.
“Made some accusations,” said Celebrimbor softly, and then raised the glass to his lips again. “Some insinuations. About my father and – well.”
Celegorm let out a sigh and reached for Celebrimbor’s elbow. “Tyelpe – ”
“Mnh.”
“Orodreth is…”
“I know what you would say. He didn’t mean it, he was just upset, he was being petty, he is resentful, he was taking out – ”
“Orodreth is a fool. Don’t heed him.”
“But is he wrong?” Celebrimbor fixed a sharp look on Celegorm, suddenly very much the echo of his father’s, and Celegorm forbore to answer. “As I thought.” Celebrimbor drank again, and slid around the side of the chair, perching on the arm and slumping against Celegorm. He started to speak a couple times, but stopped halfway through each time, finally settling on leaning his cheek against the top of Celegorm’s head. “But you’re here, at least,” he said, burying his nose in Celegorm’s hair, his voice slightly muffled.
“Always,” said Celegorm sourly, as Celebrimbor disordered his braids. “Here to play eternal consolation prize. Happy to be your second best. Whose am I not?”
Celebrimbor made a distressed sound and turned his mouth against Celegorm’s temple. “No, Uncle, do not say that, I did not mean – You are always someone I want to see, you are always someone I am happy to see; you are not consolation but confirmation that there is someone still in this bleak world worth loving.”
“Ahh, best of beasts,” said Celegorm, unable to hold onto his ill humor at the raw sincerity in Celebrimbor’s voice. He reached up to cuff Celebrimbor and then caress him. “You flatter your old uncle too warmly.” He carefully took the glass of wine from Celebrimbor’s hand and placed it well out of the way on the floor. “It is you who reminds me that time spent in grimness and drear contemplation is time wasted, when there are good souls and warm company to spend it in instead.”
Celebrimbor smiled and slid over the arm of the chair to drop heavily into Celegorm’s lap. Celegorm grunted at his weight, but wrapped an agreeable arm around his waist. “You are heavier than when last you did this, small nephew. No longer can I dandle you easily on one knee.”
“No dandling,” said Celebrimbor, strong eyebrows knitting. “No knees. I am not a child.”
“Nay,” said Celegorm, looking up into his serious, familiar face. “You are not a child.”
Celebrimbor wriggled over so he and Celegorm were side by side, though his legs still draped over Celegorm’s lap. The chair was oversized, but not large enough to fit them both without considerable overlap. Celebrimbor looped an arm around Celegorm’s neck and nuzzled into his hair again. “I do not want you to be grim and alone.”
“Who said I was?”
“You did. I do not want to be grim and alone, either,” said Celebrimbor, and the depth of sadness in his voice made Celegorm tighten his grip around his nephew’s waist. “But I fear I shall be. There are few… few who want to spend time with me.” His voice faded out as his strong, calloused fingers pulled absently through Celegorm’s pale hair, turned dull gold in the light of the fire, and Celegorm looked up at him knowingly.
“Anyone who eschews your company is a fool,” he said. “You are a treasure a thousand times the worth of any of Felagund’s gems, and one could ask for no finer or nobler a companion.” He grinned. “Except perhaps Huan, but then, he does not fit in my lap.”
“Nor do I,” Celebrimbor pointed out, and Celegorm laughed.
“I’m sure we can work around that,” he said, and tugged Celebrimbor close. As Celebrimbor shifted across Celegorm’s thighs, Celegorm let his hand come to rest on Celebrimbor’s hip. Celebrimbor’s breath caught a little and he shifted again, not away from Celegorm’s touch but into it, and his movement against Celegorm was suddenly suggestive.
Celegorm grunted. “Careful,” he said, his voice rough. “You are bigger than you once were.” But as Celebrimbor looked down at him, the knowledge that flashed between them had nothing to do with the heaviness of his weight across Celegorm’s legs. Celebrimbor laid his hand over Celegorm’s where it rested on his hip, and then, deliberately, guided it beneath the hem of his rumpled tunic. Celegorm’s fingers moved across Celebrimbor’s hot skin and in the same moment, Celebrimbor leaned forward to press his lips to Celegorm’s, ungraceful but insistent.
For a moment – perhaps a full minute, for Celegorm was always loath to resist indulgence – Celegorm allowed the kiss, even closed his eyes to let himself know the taste and feel of Celebrimbor’s lips. But as Celebrimbor pressed forward more urgently, Celegorm planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back.
“No, pup.”
Celebrimbor’s eyes opened, dark with hunger and momentarily confused, and then in the space of a blink, hunger turned to mortification. He retreated so fast he nearly fell from the chair, and Celegorm reached out to grab his arm and prevent him from crashing to the floor. “Hey, now.”
“I’m sorry,” said Celebrimbor hoarsely. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I – I must be drunk, I am so sorry. Uncle – ”
Celegorm took a slow breath, trying to hold onto his resolve. “Don’t fret yourself so.”
“But – ”
“And don’t call me ‘Uncle’ in that husky voice of yours,” said Celegorm, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he let Celebrimbor go and got to his feet.
“What?”
“Nothing. Go to bed.” He stayed facing away as Celebrimbor got to his feet unsteadily, straightening his clothes, and slowly made his way across the room. He didn’t turn around as Celebrimbor hesitated at the door, and it wasn’t until he heard the latch snick shut behind Celebrimbor’s back that he let himself let out the groan he’d been holding back.
Then he stooped, picked up Celebrimbor’s discarded wine, and drained it in a long gulp. “Have I not been damned enough,” he muttered, already starting to unlace his breeches, aching to let his fingers take the edge off. “Curvo would kill me.”