there are tall elves and small elves, nice elves and... (introduction)

[mostcraftiest]

Damn fools. Fools, all of them! If they think they will last an hour under that fool Orodreth - well. A slight change in plans only. Though the desertion of his own son - that stung, a little. He should have been firmer with the boy. Spent more time with him here, perhaps, rather than leaving him to tinker in his smithy at whatever little projects

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[doriath_crowned]

Here's a pair of Sindarin elves, then, staring at Curufin. By now, they've seen enough of Celegorm and Celebrimbor to almost be certain of who it is they're staring at.

Unfortunately, they're not particularly comfortable with this, and they'll be backing away, slowly.

Maybe they can avoid this encounter. They hope.

[mostcraftiest]

And the resemblance to Celebrimbor is especially striking. Except that it's a harder, colder version of him, eyes steely and almost hawklike. And he notices them, unfortunately. Right now, almost anyone stands out.

"You there." He has nooo idea who they are. Damned Sindarin, he guesses, but they're better than nothing.

[doriath_crowned]

Freeze. Turn around slowly. Do not curse. Do not pretend that you care.

"Yeah?" One of them drawls, nonchalantly, while the other rests his elbow on his brother's shoulder.

A pair of young, blond, Sindarin twins. Heh.

[mostcraftiest]

We wonder how closely they resemble Beren. That's not a face Curufin would forget. However... for the moment, he doesn't notice anything strange, eyeing them with a peculiar and special narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Who are you?"

[doriath_crowned]

They have no reason to lie, but they have no reason to volunteer information either.

One of them, the one leaning on his brother, tilts his chin up, defiantly.

"Who's asking?"

[mostcraftiest]

A flash, just briefly, of annoyance that's keener, a slight flare of his nostrils. "Curufinwe," he says, with pride, because why not? He has nothing to hide, and no shame. "Have some respect for your elders." And betters. He doesn't say that, though.

[doriath_crowned]

"Unfortunately for you, Lord, respect is something you will have to earn from us," one of them tells him, coolly. There's an implication he can't catch given the circumstances, but the boys don't know that.

"Have some respect for your betters, Feanorian," the other one adds, just as icily.

[mostcraftiest]

The nostril flare again, and perhaps more alarmingly, a slight brief tick in his jaw. It's gone in a moment, but steely eyes have gone even colder, and his hand doesn't drift toward his sword, but he does take a step toward them.

"I need earn no respect from Sindar whelps," he sneers, "And certainly not from those idiotic enough to consider themselves my betters. Watch your tongue or I may have to give you a lesson myself."

[doriath_crowned]

"Kinslayers, thieves and traitors have no lessons to give the Crown Princes of Doriath, Son of Feanor. We know who you are, we know what you did. Do not think you will impress us in any way."

There is a bit of a stir in nature, little animals coming out of the bushes, surrounding the twins protectively. A fox comes forth and bears his teeth at Curufin, while the other boy adds, "Besides, your brothers would take it ill if aught came to us. Have our word on that. We are not without protection."

They are partly Maiar, after all. It gives them courage to remember that - and they will stand, in the memory of their grandparents.

[mostcraftiest]

He laughs, sharply. "And now I know you for liars as well. There are no young princes of Doriath. Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am a fool." He doesn't touch his sword. It's not worth using that blade on them. A waste. Though he does cast an eye at the fox and stroke the recently unstrung bow. Fine fur.

"My brothers care naught for foolish, lying, Sindar cubs." He snorts.

[doriath_crowned]

"You'd be surprised, Feanorian slime, to know how much your brothers take after us. In fact, they feel so very shitty about how your family treated ours, that they pretty much fall all over themselves trying to get our frienship."

One of them elbows the other, and says, "And actually, they're not doing badly, compared to you. But we shouldn't expect any thing good from someone who abducted our grandmother, should we?" Meanwhile, the other whispers something unintelligible.

The little fox, meanwhile, comes closer to the twins, as if beckoned.

[mostcraftiest]

His hand on the sword hilt moves, mostly just to draw attention to it, though he does take a stalking step nearer, the tic coming back and not going away this time. Not my brothers, he wants to deny, even without guidance they can't have lost that much. However...

His lips thin more and he doesn't quite say 'they're still alive?' "You seem quite mistaken," coolly, though his eyes are even more steely. "I know of no woman I have 'kidnapped' nor of any children."

He keeps one eye on the fox, wondering how quickly he can string his bow.

[doriath_crowned]

"Of course you don't," one of them spits. "Do you deny that you took hold of Luthien Tinuviel, then? It is remembered, it is known. Just as it is known that your family killed ours in Doriath, and left us for dead in the woods, at your servant's bidding," or is it his brother's, ack, they're getting confused, now.

The little fox is now hiding between the boy's legs, hissing at Curufin.

"Stay your weapon, Feanorian - you are one and we are two, and protected by more than you see. Stay it, or will you make your list of sins longer, by killing the innocent?"

[mostcraftiest]

He looks almost amused, but only for a moment. "You are clearly deluded. I have never been to Doriath nor do I have any wish to. As for the lady, I am sure you haven't heard the whole of things." He glances at the fox, bends his bow and does string it. "Silence that thing or I will kill it."

Eyes still like cold steel. He's hardly angry at them, now, they're so obviously confused and ill informed. Mixed-up children.

[doriath_crowned]

One of the boys kneels to caress and pet the fox, trying to calm it down, and it does reduce its aggressiveness to bearing its teeth.

"Either that, or we're from your future. You're not dead, aren't you?"

Haha, our daddy killed you!

[mostcraftiest]

He keeps an eye on it. He meant that. One bolt and he could pin it to the ground. No denying he's tempted. But he holds, for now, simply keeping the bow in his off hand. "...my future." He almost laughs. "Oh, certainly. No, last I found myself very much alive."

Mad, mad, mad.