Work Text:
These being select proceedings of the final trial of Turcafinwë Tyelkormo Fëanárion, known otherwise as Celegorm Fëanorian, Celegorm the Fair, and Celegorm the Cruel, hereafter referred to as Celegorm, and Curufinwë Atarinkë Fëanárion, known otherwise as Curufin Fëanorian or Curufin the Crafty, hereafter referred to as Curufin, sons of former High Prince of the Noldor Fëanáro Curufinwë Finwion and Nerdanel Istarnië Mahtaniel. All following testimonies gathered between F.A. 506 and S.A. 1,002 by the Maiar Watharyar (of the Lady Vairë), Tecmo (of the Lord Námo), and Elmendadil (of the Lady Nienna), with the help of the Prince Findaráto Ingoldo Arafinwion, known otherwise as Finrod, Finrod Felagund, or Nóm the Wise. This account was drawn from the contributions of all four, with additional organization by Tecmo and Findaráto Ingoldo. Many and gracious thanks are extended to the Prince Findekáno Astaldo Nolofinwion, known otherwise as Fingon the Valiant, for the repeated use of his library.
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Recorded – Induction to the Halls of Mandos of one Celegorm Fëanorian (excerpt) – F.A. 506 – Accepting Maia’s name redacted for privacy.
CELEGORM (screaming)
MAIA There is no sound in this place.
CELEGORM (screaming)
MAIA If you are able, please state your name.
CELEGORM (screaming)
MAIA That’s fine. This transition can be alarming for many. If I may—
MAIA Oh.
CELEGORM Where is my brother?
*
Testimony of Eärwen Olwiel, Princess of Alqualondë, High Queen of the Noldor in Aman ‒ Testimony taken F.A. 562
Am I the first? I think I am the first. You are deciding what to do, so you’ve asked me. It’s been long enough since someone has. I appreciate it, I suppose. The thought. That’s nice. My husband is worried you’ll upset me. He doesn’t know, even though we’re one. . .and he saw the blood on the sand, so red, so red, even to my weak eyes, my soft weak eyes that do not see as others do. They had forged weapons. No one seems to talk about that—it’s all emotions running high, and fear. Well, and what about my fear, my fear and the fear of my people? We did not deserve to be your hecatomb. The blood in the water like the blood of so many fish. Our fear meant nothing. And now we hear that these two are abductors who would imprison a woman and force her to wed against her will and inclination. My unrecognizable nephews; the cousin I’ve never seen. With whom must be my loyalties? Their mother is my friend. My husband preaches mercy and grace, and forgets the taste of iron on the sea wind. Should I forget too for love of him? Forgive for love of her? Do I love either truly if I cannot? I never considered myself a woman for vengeance, but that was before I had suffered that which could merit any retribution. . . . No, but these are idle thoughts, I am not so reckless nor so callous as to repeat the sin that brought us here. Yet I cannot so easily forgive it either: thus let them stay in Mandos with their father, where they can do further harm to no one save themselves, and may perhaps in time atone for their misdeeds, if such a thing is possible. For the sake of my husband’s gentle heart and for my friend, I will be lenient and believe it so, though it comes hard and bitterly. There is my piece, and may the Gods grant me clemency if I have said aught amiss in it. I do not wish to speak of these matters much.
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Recorded ‒ Selected reflections of one Curufin Fëanorian in the Halls of Mandos ‒ F.A. 508
Red red I breathe Red his face is large in my vision shining, shining his neck is alight with absence how did this come to be I am lost we are all lost no no no there is nothing here I am looking I am looking where am I looking and for what. A sharp thing my hand his face pushes through the mist don’t ever leave me my brightness my best thing he is lost, my best thing we are lost all lost all lost all is lost how did I come here. Running I am running the night eats me I am taken in I am burned to bone where is my bright thing I search for him witless without breath when I call for him they choke me the swelling tide of earth swallows my swallow here in the skyless place we have come each to our own tomb we are opening the door the earth crushes me oh my bright thingthey have stolen your joy. All lost all lost nothing more to lose clouds come down over me I sleep I dream death is in me a hound here in the skyless place smothering I will hit them back brutally I taste nothing I smell nothing where are you where are you where are you
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Testimony of Nerdanel Istarnië Mahtaniel ‒ Testimony taken F.A. 533
What am I supposed to say?
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Letter from Findaráto Ingoldo Arafinwion, Prince of the Noldor and the Teleri, to his cousin Ambarussa Nerdanelion, Prince of the Noldor, known otherwise as Ambarussa Fëanárion, Umbarto, Ambarto, or Amrod Fëanorian ‒ S.A. 6 ‒ Letter reproduced herein with consent of both parties
My dear Cousin,
Concerning the matter of which you last wrote me, yes, I do agree that your brothers somewhat royally (ha! – yes, I am on occasion guilty of jest, why do you ask?) fucked me over as pertains to to what a generous historian might term “that whole Nargothrond debacle.” I am more than sensible to your inquietude as regards this rather showily done incident and its potential as a metaphorical barometer of what could occur should your brothers be Returned to the life of the hr öa, yet I am most resolutely determined in my conviction that such an outcome is neither inevitable nor particularly likely.
Examine my reasoning: firstly, that the expiration of the Oath has likely had a substantive effect on both the psychical and expressive aspects of your brothers’ characters, affectively rendering their fëar As They Once Were—that is to say, as they were in our crushingly distant juvenescence , which is in turn to say, not ignoble— which neatly attaches to my second theorem, namely that this spiritual “rewinding of the clock” will be necessarily accompanied by a substantial increase in wisdom and experience compared to what either possessed in their youth. Recall, Ambarussa, that these are not the brothers with whom you parted ways on the beaches of Losgar: they have endured much, achieved more, and destroyed yet more than that in the many intervening years since last you met. I am of the opinion that it is far from fanciful to posit, even to expect, that the cumulative experiences of millennia will have left some imprint on the minds and hearts of your kin, though their bodies will be in due course renewed.
Now, this is not to say that I am excusing or attempting to erase the memory of any of their variety of less savory actions. I have not yet reached such heights of arrogance—though I aspire to with time—as to opine on histories other than my own. It is simply my belief that a more effective form of expiation may be attained through the Returning of your brothers to life. The Halls were not, after all, built as a prison, and short of the Void which they so expressly desired upon exiting from the mortal sphere and whose theoretical oblivion has been denied them, leaving them in the keeping of the Lord Námo is our only other present option. Yet it is not in any way a sustainable one, as I am sure the venerable Lord tires of their company extremely—I know I did, and they were with me only an interminable decade or so, though in fairness we were stuck in a hole in the ground (I am, of course, jesting once again. I would never so insult the memory of my majestic and cherished Nargothrond in her heyday).
My third (??) argument is simply that it would really put the wind back in my sails to tell Curufin I lawyered him out of eternal damnation (or something like to it). I suspect he always thought the roles would be reversed, what with my inveterate degeneracy and reprehensible habits. I would so like to prove him wrong after all this time. It would almost make up for the wolf. And besides, it is a new Age. What a time to begin again, cos, isn’t it?
Oh, and if you can, p lease tell my honored aunt to get back from the mountains soon, as my lady mother is absolutely raving for her company and I fear she will break all our tea things if she is not able to use them for both of her beloved friends instead of just the one.
Yours most humbly and affectionately etc. etc,
Ingoldo
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Testimony of Findékano Astaldo Nolofinwion, Prince of the Noldor, former High King of the Noldor in Beleriand ‒ Testimony taken S.A. 297
To clarify in advance, I wouldn’t say I knew Curufin or Celegorm particularly well. In childhood I believe our rather substantial difference in age proved ultimately separating, and thus the introduction we had to each other was oriented in such a manner that most of our time was spent trying to escape one another’s company—I to pass my time with older companions, and they, I assume, to join my sister in mischief unimpeded. Looking back, I don’t think there was ever any special animosity between us, but our connection was tangential at best, and I am aware now that they often laughed at me, although almost always quite subtly.
In Beleriand it was not so different than when we were children, excepting the prominent fact that we were children no longer: they freshly-minted kinslayers, I still tramping around with ice on my boots and a bloody sword that I tried very hard to hide. They were at Lake Mithrim, naturally, but when I came to see Maedhros during his convalescence they got themselves out of the way pretty swiftly, and it was Maglor who thanked me officially for bringing him back. Though neither I nor my father considered it so, I believe they felt themselves in my or my family’s debt and were as a result made uncomfortable by my presence, but this is the purest conjecture. I do know for certain, however, that Curufin at least held me responsible for the migration of the kingship from their family to mine, and was at times exceedingly suspicious of my motivations for spending time with his eldest brother. Celegorm I don’t believe cared overmuch, as he not only had no desire for a throne, but had developed a positive fear of inheriting one in Maedhros’s absence (these observations were confirmed by Maglor, who told me privately that during this period Celegorm had repeatedly threatened to either cut his own throat at a council meeting or disappear forever into the forest if he so much as hinted at abdication); he frequently appeared to make attempts at counterbalancing or tempering Curufin’s more aggressive stance, but we never discussed it outright, so I can’t truly say for sure what his feelings on the matter were, only that he treated me quite pragmatically. Once Maedhros had recovered sufficiently (which is to say not enough at all) to take himself off to Himring and dispose of his brothers elsewhere, I did not meet Celegorm or Curufin or have words with them again in Beleriand. Maedhros relayed all their news and, I believe, did their tithing, though again, I did not ask.
I am aware that few of these details are strictly necessary, and when this passes through my cousin’s hands I am sure he will laugh at me for being so circumspect. It has been some time since I have been asked to deliver judgment of any kind on another person, and I am feeling, as I’m sure you surmised when I refused your very flattering and cordial request to serve as a juror, somewhat less than up to the task. Make no mistake, I have no love for my late cousins’ deeds. Murder, usurpation, abduction, coercion, attempted rape, all of the foulest kind—it’s a rather infamous litany. Nor do I labor under the misapprehension that they were not in control of their actions—they were. It is that I fear very much to judge myself.
I will set it down here for the record: I am reasonably sure that I killed at Alqualondë. I say “reasonably” because affairs were so confused, but I am almost certain that if you went down to the harbor today and searched among the fisherfolk there, you would find one at least who bears or bore the mark of my lance. There is no need at the moment to go into the fairly uncomplicated reasons why I did this thing: let it suffice to say that I was misled by a great regard. Ingoldo in any case will understand what I mean. But this act is enough that I do not trust myself to bandy the fates of anyone similarly inclined. All I will say is that I do not think that any answer lies in sending them beyond the World, and I will not reify the Oath by endorsing such a course of action.
My final reason for recusing myself is quite simple: Celegorm and Curufin were great friends of my sister, and I believe whatever say our family has in this matter should be left up to her. Due in part to this and somewhat to past companionships of my own, I do not feel able to opine beyond what I have already said: though I am happy to lend you the use of my books, I must advise you to seek elsewhere for adjudication. Fingon the Magistrate died in Beleriand, after all. I’d like to keep it that way.
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Second Testimony of Nerdanel Istarnië Mahtaniel ‒ Testimony taken S.A. 346
Tyelkormo was my only child blessed by a Vala. Three days after his birth, when I was still supple and languid, marvelling at my baby’s ears and downy skin and crying every other minute, Oromë came to our house and sat with me. I was too tired to feel much of the honor of the visit, but the Lord was very kind, and spoke to me of trivial, gentle things that would not hurt me. I let him hold Tyelko, the first not of our family to do so, and he marked his forehead with the sacred oil and his little hands with sap. Perhaps I should have known then the breadth of the gulf that would separate him so often from his siblings, and from myself and Fëanáro. When Oromë bent to whisper to him, I assumed out of hand that it was a blessing; of that I am no longer so sure. His face was so sad—but then who can read the gods? He may have only been serious, as befitted the discharging of a solemn duty. Yet still I feel I should have known. My Tyelkormo, my wild one, my light irrepressible. Perhaps there was something I could have done.
Atarinkë never liked to be called by the name I gave him, but as I trust he will never read this, I will indulge myself this once and call my son what he has always been in my heart. From the way he behaved as an adult, or at least in the years of his adulthood that are in the histories, you would expect that he had repudiated me since birth, but this was not so. Out of all my children I believe he was the most steadily attached to, or dependent upon, myself and my husband as parents. He was an intensely sensitive child, forever oversetting himself with frustrations and anxieties, and for a long time very solitary excepting our family. Yet paradoxically I can recollect that from an early age he felt it incumbent upon him to assume a protective role towards those closest to him, largely Tyelkormo and me. He could be very sweet in those days. He felt himself our guard. I think it was something he extrapolated from watching his father, and it lent another dimension to the name he did not love. It was endearing, and I did not worry about the implications; I knew very little then.
Practically everyone of my acquaintance has told me at some time or another not to blame myself. That it wasn’t my fault. But I have gone over my children’s upbringings a thousand times searching for the moment that sparked it all, the irretrievable mistake that turned their small feet and set them on the path of ruin, and I have found nothing. Did I indulge them too much, or leave them unloved? Did Fëanáro and I lead them to arrogance? Did we make them feel less than enough? Were we cruel to others without knowing it, and so taught our children the same? I have no answers. I am appalled. I appall myself with my own fear. A life spent seeking knowledge only to cower in ignorance at the last—how frightful, how frightfully embarrassing!
However long you determine is best for my sons to remain in Mandos is of no consequence to me. I will not protest your judgment. In fact I believe it is merited. I only beg that once the set term is passed, you allow them to depart into my care. They are despicable to the rest of you, so why should it matter? We will leave Tirion if you wish it. We will go far away from all the settled places, as we did when they were young. I don’t care. Whatever it is, I will do it. They are my responsibility. They are my children. I cannot be blameless as to how they lived. They are of account now to no one but myself. I won’t let them hurt anyone else, if you only allow them to come back to me. I am their mother. There are pieces of my spirit in them. I know the color of their first hairs and their nightmares and the shapes of their palms. Atarinkë liked the ends of bread. . . .Tyelkormo wanted to be a dancer. I will never abandon them. If I abandon them there is no hope for any of us. I have to fix whatever it was we did wrong. Mothers are supposed to have foresight, but I did not until my last, and then it was a torrent, as if it had built up inside me. But I do not need it now. Everything that could happen has happened. I must try to make things right. Only let me have my children once you’ve finished with them. I will not ask anything of you again.
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Letter from Írissë Melesta Nolofinwiel, otherwise known as Aredhel or Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, Princess of the Noldor, to her brother Findékano ‒ S.A. 389 ‒ Letter reproduced herein with the consent of both parties
Finno (that’s right, not even a “dear”),
Did you eat a bad leaf on that trip to Lórien or something? Because the only other explanation I can come up with for this absolutely absurd request for some kind of review of our (WORST!!!) cousins is that you’ve actually gone insane at last, and frankly I really don’t want to have to deal with telling Amya you’ve cracked.
In the case that your wits are still rattling around in there, I am preemptively enclosing a list of reasons why I will not be participating in Ingoldo’s little pet project:
1. It’s stupid and probably useless, because with the kind of things those two did, they’re not leaving Mandos this side of eternity;
2. They aren’t my friends;
3. Even if they WERE my friends I wouldn’t help them now;
4. Do you seriously think after what happened to me I’m just going to turn around and explain away abducting a woman and holding her captive under threat of rape to try and coerce her into marriage? I’m not fucking faithless;
5. If you go low enough to lose the good opinion of the magic dog you’ve had since childhood, I’m not following you any further.
So sorry that I’m not kind and forgiving like you. I know you say you don’t forgive him, and you would never go back even if he asked, blah blah blah, but we all know who got off the Ice and went straight to Angband with a harp. And that’s fine for you, but I can’t do it; you won’t catch me singing at Námo’s doors for anything. You can tell Ingoldo that if our cousins manage to come wheedling out of whatever pit they’ve been hurled into, I’ll fight them on his lawn.
— Írissë
P.S. That could be fun, actually. Tell him they’re allowed to come back, but only if I get to punch them one million times every day forever and also they have to admit I was right.
P.P.S. One tiny sorry for that bit that about the Angband thing. I only hate and resent you sometimes.
P.P.P.S. Can we go to Lórien together next time? Amya is saying I need more sessions with Estë’s bunch because writing this made me throw a vase against the wall and then cry for six hours and I haven’t been able to look at this for three days. I am a joy and a pleasure to all who know me.
P.P.P.P.S. Hugs, kisses, etc. etc. etc.
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Testimony of Celegorm Fëanorian, deceased ‒ Testimony taken S.A. 921
I want to clarify that what we did was primarily my fault. The whole time we were in Beleriand I was pushing, pushing. Even our deaths—I couldn’t get enough. We had to attack Doriath. Stillness was like suffocating, a slow chew. I was older, but not better. I should have been. And the Lúthien thing—that was me too. Curufin only cared as far as I did. She was beautiful and I was angry. It isn’t an excuse. I hope we didn’t hurt her in any way that lasted. But then I’m not sure we could have—she was like a singularity, so dense and self-contained. All that power, so much that it was spilling out the edges where her skin couldn’t hold it in. Aberration. It was like licking static. I wanted what she had. I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to own her, to make a mark on that flat surface. Not that it matters so much what I wanted. I get that. I’ve had a lot of time to think. At the end of the day we still—but you know that. You know everything there is, start to finish.
It’s so peaceful here, at the end of things, and when there is light it doesn’t come from anywhere. I can almost appreciate it: the rest, the solitude, fathomless. Almost. I didn’t resist your summons. Or not for very long. I never resisted anything much, and then only what I shouldn’t’ve. I suppose that’s why I’m still here. My desires transfix me; I am struck through on their wishbone spears.
What you have to understand is that my brother is like our father, and when our father came alight Curufin went up too. The stuff that couldn’t burn was left, all the parts he didn’t know or didn’t take to. So he filled in the rest with me. I let him. I offered myself on a plate because, whatever, what harm could it do; I already knew I belonged to him. He ate me like meat, and I rotted him from the inside and drew him into evil. I touched him with my badness and it rubbed off. I loved him irredeemably. I still do.
He’ll be better without me. You’ll see. I’ll stay here. He’ll go and make astrolabes or something, and talk to our mother. I was the bad influence, so I’ll stay here. Collateral, you know? Or I’ll go away, if that’s what you want. You can turn me into a deer, or send me into Darkness. Whatever works for you—I won’t make a fuss. You can trust me (I would swear it if it didn’t seem in bad taste). You can trust me. You can trust me.
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Testimony of Curufin Fëanorian, deceased ‒ Testimony taken S.A. 931
Thank you for allowing me this time to set my thoughts down. I will not keep you long. Not that Time has any meaning in this place, but I will endeavor insofar as I am aware of temporality to keep these reflections to the point—death has taken my talent for preamble anyways.
I will begin: I believe myself to be an inherently wicked and corrupt individual. The influence Morgoth had on my father before we left Valinor aided much in spurring him to folly, but I am reasonably certain that had our roles been reversed I would have needed no such urging. My callousness and pride are my responsibility alone, and I am sure they would have eventually found purchase without the extraordinary positive stimulus of conspiracy, betrayal, and war. My faults have always been very obvious: even as a child I was capricious, secretive, and prone to jealousy, and despite what you may think based on retroactive historical examination, my parents and siblings set for me only the best of examples. I cultivated my failings myself.
I will not waste words here enumerating the sins of my adult life. You know them, and I have already done it so many times. There is likely an index somewhere for reference should you not be acquainted. Let us proceed simply to the matter at hand, which is my plea for the exoneration and release of my brother Celegorm (Turcafinwë Tyelkormo).
I would like it to be known that my brother has always been exceedingly dear to me and in our lives never ceased to comport himself with a care and solicitude towards my well-being more befitting a parent or a spouse than a sibling. I esteem him greatly and consider him ultimately goodhearted, intelligent, and honorable. With that said, he was ever a follower, and, while naturally ambitious after the way of our family and our people, never showed the predilection for official power that would prove so destructive in my own life. Loyal affection kept him always by my side even once our family had scattered across Beleriand, but rather than affording him the same respect he offered me so freely, I saw only places where the darts of my wanton desire for mastery and influence could easily sink. I led him time and again into perversity, knowing that with my constant assurances and well-placed goads trust would win out over sense. When he raised objections to my chosen courses of action, I threw him spitefully out of my good graces and treated him coldly or else mocked and jeered at his concerns until he no longer volunteered them. A lifetime together taught me all of his weakness, every once of which I used against him without compunction. Through subtle means I infected him with my desires—power, vengeance, dominion over others—and taught him to believe they were his own. By allowing him to attribute all our choices and ideas to himself and think himself the leader between us, I thrust upon him the guilt I rightfully should have felt for my own conduct. In every way that is despicable I lived up to my epithet of craftiness and in doing so forsook all that was noble and generative. At the altar of my gnawing and restless ambition I sacrificed first Ambarussa my junior, then my cousin and my child, and finally my own life and my brother’s (technically Caranthir’s as well, but as I did not directly influence him to the same degree I did Celegorm, I will leave the choice to count him or not up to you). I spent my life running roughshod over all who loved me and many who didn’t, and it is only in death, where, incapable of atonement, I have discovered that I was a plague to those who knew me.
Though I am ill deserving of this boon, I would ask you still, considering what I have said of my own machinations towards him, to release my brother Celegorm once more into life whilst I remain here, or else contained wherever you see fit until the World is broken and remade and all shades, even the debauched, return once more within Arda proper. My brother is half of everything good or clean that ever was in me (the other half being my son, for whose preservation I have thankfully no cause to plead). Allow him to return at least for the sake of our mother, whom he ever loved and treated with due honor. I am certain you will have no cause for regret. Whatever danger or baseness lay in him will be left here with its progenitor. I will keep it for us both.
Thank you once more for your time.
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Trial verdict: Guilty, forgiven
Defendant status: Reembodied in Aman
Further notes: Defendants reembodied together in S.A. 1,002 after lengthy deliberation by the Court of Fate. Successive fruit baskets received from S.A. 1,002 to present from one Nerdanel Istarnië Mahtaniel much appreciated although Ainur do not truly eat.
The rest of the associated materials may be found in the House of Records in Valimar or in facsimile at the private library of Prince Findaráto Ingoldo Arafinwion near Alqualondë.