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Coveted, yes. That was the right word. Desired was too weak, did not properly express the tight, almost strangled feeling in his chest when he pictured Tyelko, attention all for her, laughing, with his smiling eyes and beautiful face that women seemed to love. Her lack of interest was plain, of course, but just the same, it was an ugly sort of jealousy that sometimes tempted him to think of forcing Tyelko to submit and let him take the marriage. It would not be hard. With his elder brother, it never was.
However, that was – not possible. Not feasible. He kept his words to himself.
“You’re pining,” said Curufin, droll. “Come, Tyelko. You’re becoming obsessed with the girl.”
Tyelko sighed. “No girl,” he said, “A woman, and what a woman she is – you must be blind not to see it, Kurvo. She is-“
“A marvel. So you have said, a number of times, already.” Curufin slanted his eyes downward, examined his beringed fingers. “Either do something or stop fretting at it. You are beginning to exasperate me.”
“She’s important, isn’t she?” His brother’s voice was eager, almost exuberant. At least it had pulled him somewhat out of his melancholy. That was small comfort. “If I married her –“
“Yes, yes, Thingol would have no choice but to accept an alliance.” Curufin could hear the pique in his own voice, and did not try to banish it. “Don’t pretend that that is your aim, brother mine. You desire her because she is beautiful, and you have always had a weakness for pretty things.”
He could almost hear Tyelkormo scowl. “—well, of course. But does that make it any less true? And doesn’t it make my – as you term it – ‘pining’ worthwhile?”
“Nothing makes pining worthwhile,” Curufin said coolly. “It is only a variant of self-pity, and you know well my feelings on that particular low emotion.”
“I am not-“
“You are,” Curufin said, suddenly annoyed again. “You are and it sickens me. You were once known to have a strong will. Where is it now? Enough cajoling and whining like a cringing cur.”
Tyelko flushed violently. “I am not – you – I am not cringing!”
It gave him a nasty sort of vicious satisfaction to be able to goad his brother about this, to take out his frustration and pettiness on Tyelko’s relatively fragile ego. He laughed, deliberately. “How do you expect to win her acting more servile dog than man? Are you so afraid of her rejection?”
He stood up, jerkily. “Kurvo, I don’t know what in hell you’re playing at but-“
Curufin snorted. “No wonder she thinks so little of you. Or perhaps she sees through your little game and knows that she is nothing more than a surrogate for Irissë-“
The blow took him by surprise, clipping his cheekbone painfully and jarring him back against the chair. Tyelko was on his feet, and trembling with rage. “You will not,” he said, furiously, “You will never – never mention that name again! She has nothing to do with this. Nothing!”
“If you want to believe that, Tyelko, by all means…but I have never favored self-deception.”
“If you say one more word,” Celegorm snarled, expression tightening angrily. “So help me, I will-“
“Will what?” Curufin raised a delicate eyebrow, very slowly. “Are you threatening me, Turco?” There was a long silence, and then his brother turned sharply away, snatched up quiver and bow, and began to stride for the door. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” Curufin said, letting the mocking in his voice be plain. His cheekbone ached where Tyelko had struck him. “I will dearly miss the joy of your company.”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” he said, snarled.
“Like what? Turco, I'm always like this-“
“I'm going hunting,” he said, cutting the response off, and the door slammed behind his retreating back. Curufin watched the closed door until the sound of footsteps faded, and then he began to laugh, not even sure who he was laughing at, or what he was laughing about.