Archive of Our Own

He threw the doors to the forge open and stormed inside. The walk had not cooled his temper, rather it had stoked the flames to new heights.

"Ah, Atya! That was fast. How is Uncle Finrod?" Came the entirely too cheerful voice of his son.

"Firstly, Felagund is not your uncle, he’s your half-cousin once removed. And secondly, ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!" Curufin yelled the last words, temper well passed boiling point by now. The other smiths scurried out of the building, not wanting to face Curufin’s wrath. Celebrimbor, used to his father’s temper tantrums, calmly set down his tools before settling down on one of the un-used anvils.

"That bad, huh?" He hummed pleasantly, trying to soothe his father’s anger.

"I said get out Tyelpe," Curufin growled.

"I know, but you’re liable to hurt yourself doing something stupid, so I’ll stay," Celebrimbor didn’t blink as he calmly met his father’s eyes. Curufin sneered, but didn’t move to force his son to leave. He instead set about his plan.

On his way to the forge, Curufin had dreamed up a way to accomplish his plans here in Nargothrond. He would make Finrod a ring, but not just any ring. This ring, Curufin decided, would be respelled and bend Finrod to his will. Curufin selected gold as it absorbed magic the best out of the available metals and cut rubies as they would amplified magic the best. Materials chosen, Curufin started on his project.

In his anger, he made more mistakes than he would have liked. It took him three tries before he got passed the initial stages of twisting the metal and imbuing his intentions. On the fourth try, the ring began to take shape. It was not nearly as twisting and ornate as his normal work, but he didn’t care. He just needed it on Finrod’s hand, sooner rather than later.

"Atya, may I ask what you are doing? These Spells are strong," Celebrimbor commented with a frown. He was right. The air in the forge was heavy with magic.

"Stop interrupting," Curufin grunted, his attention momentarily slipping. His jeweling hammer struck off and whole thing glowed blue for a second. Curufin inspected his work. The metal looked the same and the magic that flowed out of it seemed unchanged. Curufin glared at his son.

"That could have ruined my work. I’m making a ring, if you must know. If you’re going to insist on staying, make yourself useful; the fire needs a good billowing."

Celebrimbor shrugged before doing as his father commanded. For a brief moment, Curufin was grateful that he had never taught Celebrimbor how to warp metal with so much magic. That skill would only serve his son ill.

The ring was finally complete. It was heavier than it should have been and Curufin wondered if Finrod would notice the Spells that clung to it. He grimaced. It was a little late to think about subtlety now.

It took him nearly a week before Curufin found an opportunity to gain an audience with Finrod alone.

"If this is about Beren and his quest or my younger brother, I don’t want to here it," Finrod firmly informed him before the door was even closed. That was the crux of the arguments of late.

"It’s not," Curufin lied smoothly. He had to bite is tongue to keep himself from flying off on a long winded rant about both of those topics.

"Then what is it that you need this time?" Finrod looked decidedly weary. His golden braids were fraying and his robes were wrinkled. After eyeing his cousin, Curufin launched into his well rehearsed speech about about penance, the force of strong wills and the nature of familial bonds. He only got about half way through his lengthy monologue before Finrod interrupted him.

"Curufinwë, do not test my patients! What is your point?” Finrod growled. Much like Angrod and Galadriel, he had inherited less of his father’s mild manners and more of Finwë’s fire. While his temper was much slower than any of the Fëanorion’s, it was just as fierce and hot. Coupled with his uncanny ability to control Song like Maglor, Finrod was one of the few that Curufin truly feared. Cowed into submission, Curufin stopped talking and presented the ring to his cousin. Finrod raised an eyebrow before excepting the gift from his younger cousin.

"Not one of your finer works, cousin, especially as gifts of penance go," he commented, examining it in the light. Curufin grit his teeth and accepted the criticism. Finrod slid it experimentally onto his finger. He looked at over once more before going to remove it. He was unable to, per the design.

"The band is a little tight, Curvo. It might prove difficult to remove," Finrod grunted giving the ring a tug. Curufin held his breath, mentally counting the seconds until the Spells would take their hold. At first nothing happened, then Finrod’s whole figure began to glow brightly.

Then something entirely unexpected happened. Finrod’s body began to morph. It was like watching time flow backwards. The battle scars on Finrod skin grew smaller before disappearing altogether. Then Finrod was shrinking, his hair growing shorter and baby fat slowly appearing on his trim figure. Curufin gaped in horror. He lunged for his cousin, yanking the ring off of FInrod’s finger. Curufin had expected more resistance, but the ring slipped free easily. Curufin had over compensated and that threw him off balance. He landed on his back, striking his head on the stone floor.

With a groan he sat up. He rubbed his eyes. There, sitting in a pile of clothes that were now much to big for him, was a child version of his cousin. The elfling was playing the jewels that his older self had worn.

"Finrod?" Curufin croaked in disbelief.