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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[ringsmith]

Celebrimbor is wandering around outside, lost in throught, when he hears the bellow. His expression rapidly shifts through "oh shit" to tense resignation as he silently turns toward the source, waiting. He knows he can't avoid this indefinitely, but he kind of wishes he could.

There's no way that running into the father you publicly denounced is not going to be unpleasant in some way.

[ringsmith]

"You were dead!" His voice is raising. "Turco was dead! And Moryo, and Pityo, and then Nelyo and Cano. All of your cousins except for Galadriel! I remember it happening. I don't know why you don't."

[mostcraftiest]

At this point, he does reach to seize Celebrimbor's arm, and shake him, because seriously, "You have run mad," not quite snapped, "I was just with Turco, you fool, and going to seek out Moryo. I don't know what you are talking about-"

[ringsmith]

"Yes, well that's hardly new, isn't it." It's almost snapped back, but then his voice becomes darker and more serious. "I don't know why you don't remember, but I know that I will never forget the way I died, as much as I may wish to."

[mostcraftiest]

At that, his grip tightens, just slightly, but the expression's changed, slightly. Wait. Wait. Died? "I don't remember because it hasn't happened," he says, but a bit less sharp - not saying much, but it is a bit, "There is no memory to get of it." And what do you mean you died? Did you end up coming to your senses and following the Oath like a good Feanorian, then?

[ringsmith]

Hah, you wish, dad. He roughly jerks his arm out of his father's grip, but he doesn't step back. That would be a sign of weakness. "How would you know, if you don't remember? At least I died an honorable death, not in the slaying of innocents!"

[mostcraftiest]

For just a moment, Curufin looks very much as though he wants to strike his son, and almost does. And pushes the distance, though they are probably near the same height now. He can still look down his nose as well as ever. "Watch yourself, he hisses, a warning, "You dare. If you think that I will be gentle with you for whatever reason, Tyelperinquar, you are sorely mistaken. I will not tolerate your foolish defiance."

[ringsmith]

"You do not know how I died." He smiles, actually smiles, though something about it may be slightly unhinged. "You don't scare me anymore, Father. I have faced much, much worse."

[mostcraftiest]

This is problematic. Clearly someone has been giving Celebrimbor far too much free reign. Probably partly his fault, but it's... "I would not demand your fear, only your proper respect. As it is, though, you may leave me no choice. You are my son, Tyelperinquar, no matter your obstinacy, and I will be sure you remember it."

[ringsmith]

"And what have you done recently that's respectable, Father?" Cele's still not backing down or showing any deference. "What's the last thing you remember, sending Findarato to his death because you couldn't let go of your pride and your desire for a thing that you couldn't have held onto anyway?"

[mostcraftiest]

That does it, and with a quick and extraordinarily harsh even for him movement, he moves to backhand Celebrimbor across the face, hard, face twisting with rage. "You know nothing," he snarls, "You know nothing of loyalty. You would shame my father. I am almost glad he did not live to see what his line has become. Findarato perished because he made the wrong choice."

[ringsmith]

He seems shocked for a moment, as he turns his head back to stare at his father for a moment. Then his expression darkens and he swings, aiming a punch backed by the strength of a blacksmith at his father's face.

[mostcraftiest]

Curufin truly was not expecting that. It shows, in the blank surprise on his face, and he manages to move just enough that it doesn't smash his nose, but that is his cheekbone and his head snapping back. That hurt. More for the surprise.

He moves to seize Celebrimbor's wrist before he can withdraw it, furious, and if he can catch it will twist it hard, eyes no longer so steely as half mad with fury. His own son.

[ringsmith]

He does manage to grab the wrist, and Cele doesn't even blink at the pain as it's twisted, staring at his father with something like hatred and something like sorrow. Because this is still his father. He wants to love him. He just doesn't make it easy and Cele's pretty much given up.

[mostcraftiest]

Cele, we promise that daddy does love you, in his own way. It's just. He doesn't feel things like that much, doesn't know what to do with it, and is currently really pissed with you. Not that it helps.

Curufin meets his gaze, mouth thin and flat, but eases off, just a little. "You said you died," kind of harshly, but almost with a different note, "How. When."

[ringsmith]

"Nearly two thousand years of the sun after you did. The Valar had come and banished Morgoth to the void...but they did not finish his servant Sauron. I trust you remember him." Again the bitterness in that comment. "In two thousand years my skill as a smith had grown, my work and its power was widely known. Sauron desired some of the things that I had created, and his forces came in numbers too great to be driven back..." He's not quite there anymore, his eyes are distant, watching it all again. I fought them on the very steps of my hall, my men, my friends, fellows, apprentices slain around me..." He stops for a moment, draws a few breaths. He's rarely spoken of this before. "But I didn't tell him what he really wanted to know. I wouldn't tell him," he says again more quietly, still staring into a middle distance where he's undoubtedly seeing Ost-in-Edhel burning or something similar.

...Yeah, this is why he doesn't talk about it.