cnc-week

[cnc-week]

Hehtië [desertion]

late participation in @cnc-week day 1 : celegorm & deities

Celegorm yearning for just the smallest indication that Orome is still out there watching him, and breaking the sacred rules of hunting that the Vala taught him just to meet his wrath. But nothing happens, and he is left in despair, knowing that his god had abandoned him

Hunting is a rite. One most sacred at that. You must treat it so. If not, it becomes no better than acts of murder. Remember it, a hunt is not butchery and the woods is not a slaughterhouse.

Respect the beast - it is not meat. It will be reduced to meat if you let it, but then your eating it shall be a sin.

And Sinners I shall purge. For the forest is my home, and I have not allowed murder where is mine; by one of mine.

So Celegorm slaughters. His arrows hit nimble legs and scar ears; his blade hack at flesh without an ounce of grace; his prey shriek in torment as his brutal moves are conducted without clemency; he doesn't even listen to it fade into a choke before tossing the game aside. He doesn't collect the carcass after, just abandons them to rot.

His heart pounds all the while. Fearful of the consequences, shameful of his act, but beneath it all, anticipating. A God's wrath; a sinner's fate.

Except nothing happens.

The stench of blood has brought crows to flock alongside the trees, until one bold enough stoops down low to take a peck at the dead deer. Celegorm catches it with the blade as it ascends. Cawk.

Maybe it's a cry of pain. Maybe of anger. He cannot know it like he used to. And he wishes he doesn't care that he can't. Wishes he never understood them; wishes he had never been blessed by one whose embrace he had forsaken. Wishes he had never needed to find out.

The woods are quiet for a while before another black figure inches downwards. Celegorm shoots an arrow through its body. Cawk.

Do not dishonor the reapers as they come fetch a soul. Crows, before the malice of the Enemy had spread, were such-

Celegorm severs black feathered wings, and the flightless body drops to the forest floor.

Cawk.

Celegorm chops the body, watches flesh drop from the sky with little grace.

Cawk.

Celegorm shoots through,....

Cawk.

Celegorm b-

Cawk.

He screams as he wields his blade, unbeknownst of the tears streaking down his face.

He has abandoned me. The thought strikes him like an iron mace. He does not care. For I am his no more.

The realization brings him down on his knees, and before long he finds himself gagging and retching, still weeping as he did.

[cnc-week]

Celegorm & Curufin for @cnc-week

Reminiscing

[cnc-week]

Dawn for @cnc-week (538 words, Gen)

“And then,” Celegorm was saying, “Then he said to Curvo, ‘aren’t you a little short to be an elf prince?’”

As their guests laughed, Curufin rolled his eyes and got up to refill his glass. When Celegorm had suggested a house warming party, he had not anticipated his brother going into detail about one of the more embarrassing moments of their lives.

A new life in Valinor had seemed impossible at first. Doomed to eternal darkness, until the world remade - if they were lucky. But Manwë thought always of mercy, and centuries uncounted pass quickly for the dead. So here they were at last.

It was strange. Many did not want anything to do with them. More did not even recognise their faces; elves for whom the Sons of Fëanor were merely one set of figures in a history book, seven little lines of red. Once, he would have been proud to be a legend. Now, he was fairly certain it was more convenient to be forgotten.

He rejoined the table as Celegorm finished recounting Beren’s rescue. His brother spoke so freely of things that once enraged him that sometimes he wasn’t sure he was still Celegorm at all. The memory had used to make him as red-faced as Caranthir with anger (sometimes, when he had been in the mood for a fight, he had reminded him just to provoke one).

One guest spoke up: “He was a good man, the son of Barahir. My great-uncle died for him.”

Celegorm snorted, unimpressed. “I shall leave judgement on his goodness to higher powers. But I concede that he was brave. Most fools are.”

Ah, there was the quick-tongued Celegorm he knew.

Curufin did not grace the question with an answer. There were plenty of things he would still like to say about Beren son of Barahir after all this time, and none of them were pleasant.

The rest of the party passed just as smoothly. As he had been in their first lives, Celegorm was the more sociable of them, and Curufin was more than happy to sit and listen to his stories, even if he had heard them - lived them! - before. But from Celegorm’s lips they sounded different, distant. 

The sun was just peeking out of the mist when Celegorm joined him outside.

He was silent for a moment. Then: “Do you miss it?”

“The night?”

He thwacked Celegorm on the arm. “Beleriand.”

“No.” Celegorm answered, then frowned. “Sometimes. Not the land, not the people – hells, I do not miss the people. But…” His brow furrowed. “I miss how we were. How it was just the two of us against it all.”

Curufin took his hand, running his thumb over Celegorm’s knuckles. It was a comforting reminder that he was real, that he was here, in the flesh.

“We still have each other.” He said, not taking his eyes from the sunrise. “We can make a new life again, Celegorm. Even if you insist on telling stories of the past.”

Celegorm rolled his eyes, but squeezed his hand in return. “You just can’t accept that it is genuinely hilarious how he bested you.”

“Shut up. I’ll still push you down the hill.”

Celegorm’s laughter heralded the new dawn.

[cnc-week]

Just throwing out a reminder that if i didn’t reblog your work i probably just didn’t see it :) sometimes the tag hides things from me so tag me in a comment or in a post <3 thank you!!

[cnc-week]

Celegorm and Orome for @cnc-week 's 1st prompt! Unfortunately my camera doesn't like my pencils so the color isn't as vibrant as in person

[cnc-week]

Not every day that you meet a god. for c&c week’s prompt of celegorm & deities

More variants below

alternatively instead of this being their first meeting it could be celegorm meeting orome again after he reembodies and they have a tense homoerotic stare down before having mad sex

also don’t look at the fur please i don’t even want to talk about it. yes that’s my wolf centaur orome i love him

[cnc-week]

Lo an unexpected Celegorm for @cnc-week

Pacman ghost looking ass hair

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This was not supposed to exist. You can thanks @peasant-player for this one (see this post).

Characters and designs are not from me. My inadvertent participation for @cnc-week (I'm a bit late since it was not supposed to happen)

Alternate version and more under the cut because I'm a bit unhinged by the crossover...

[cnc-week]

got bored

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A forge safety violation Curufin for @cnc-week

Why is he basically naked in the forge? Who knows but he will likely get burnt ❤️

I’m so proud of this one ngl, that’s the best clothing I’ve ever done I think. Best of all? No hands to draw!

[cnc-week]

Flames for @cnc-week

Curufin has never been able to escape flames. His earliest memories are of it; the hearth by his cradle, crackling, the steady glow of forge fire. It had always been a comfort, the warmth like the embrace of his father. So he is eager, when his father bids them burn the white ships, and sets torches himself. When the smell of his brother’s burning flesh reaches him, he retches. His father burns too, and Curufin cannot look away as flames consume him. Brilliant, bright, blazing. He cannot so much as light a candle without seeing his face in the ash. He tries to forget. It works, for a while. He still works a forge. Then, Beleriand is swallowed by a flood of flame. There is no time for resistance - they gather what they can, who they can, and flee, choking on air thick with the stench of smoke. Of death. It lingers in his nose for days, even when they are far away. Finrod is their refuge. In Nargothrond, he scrubs himself raw, to rid the smell from his skin. But when he closes his eyes, he can still hear the roar of the flames. Curufin knows he always will.

[cnc-week]

"Yet neither bread nor rest would he grant to Celegorm and Curufin within his realm, and he swore that there should be little love between Nargothrond and the sons of Fëanor thereafter. ‘Let it be so!’ said Celegorm, and there was a light of menace in his eyes; but Curufin smiled. Then they took horse and rode away like fire, to find if they might their kindred in the east. But none would go with them, not even those that were of their own people; for all perceived that the curse lay heavily upon the brothers, and that evil followed them." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Of Beren and Lúthien"

@cnc-week day 2 ⇢ CURUFIN + FLAMES

[ID: an edit comprised of six posters in shades of brown, black, cool-toned red, and white.

1: A closeup of Saffron Vadher, a british-indian model with brown skin and long black hair. She is shown from just below her eyes to her mid chest, and wears a large silver necklace. Her expression is neutral and her eyes appear closed, one decorated with bold black lines. White text in the center of the image reads "curufinwë" and underneath in a smaller serif italicized font "skilled finwë" / 2: A dark sky full of stars and the red clouds of a nebula. White text at the top of the image reads "stars" and underneath "fire of inspiration." More text at the bottom of the image reads "Curufinwë Feanor's own name; given to this, his favourite son, because he alone showed in some degree the same temper and talents." / 3: Red lightning in a dark sky. One tendril reaches down to strike the dark mass of a hill. Same format as Image 2, but the upper text reads "lightning" and "fire of action" and the lower text reads "And after Celegorm Curufin spoke, more softly but with no less power, conjuring in the minds of the Elves a vision of war and the ruin of Nargothrond." / 4: Saffron Vadher, this time looking straight ahead and leaning her chin on a silver holder. She wears silver earrings and is smiling slightly, possibly in anger. Same format as Image 1, but the text reads "atarinkë" and "little father" / 5: Saffron Vadher's face unevenly reflected in the pieces of a broken mirror that she holds in one hand. She wears a metallic bracelet of interlocking swirls. Same format as Images 1 and 4, but the text reads "fëanárion" and "son of fëanáro" / 6: A billow of red fire in the dark. Same format as Images 2 and 3, but the upper text reads "flame" and "fire of destruction" and the lower text reads "In the night Fëanor, filled with malice, aroused Curufin, and with him . . . he went to the ships and set them all aflame; and the dark sky was red as with a terrible dawn." //End ID]

[cnc-week]

Here's Curufin and Fëanor for the second prompt of @cnc-week

Celegorm an Curufin Week - Mar. 18 - 19th - "Flames" - Curufin

This was an absolute nightmare delight to make! I love how it turned out, even though I don't know if it's canon accurate because there's like a gazillion years since I've read the Silmarillion. All I can remember about Fëanor's death was that he just spontaneously combusted, so here's the moment!

Btw, to whoever first said that Curufin had burn scars on his arms from holding Fëanor when he died, you are absolutely correct and I love you.

[cnc-week]

Deities and flames, made for @cnc-week

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fawn!celegorm and stoat kit!Curufin for childhood/valinor for @candcweek

celegorm is a deer and curufin is a stoat I DO NOT make the rules

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"Then Felagund upon the head Of Orodreth set it: 'Brother mine, till I return this crown is thine.' Then Celegorm no more would stay, and Curufin smiled and turned away."

For the @candcweek prompt "Oaths" -> Fëanorian Oath!

This line from the Lay of Leithian has always really stuck with me for some reason. The C&C brainrot is real.

[cnc-week]

Wolf & Serpent - Celegorm & Curufin for @cnc-week 2025 

Giving a new(ish) art style a try! (I didn’t intentionally use two animals that are also associated with Finrod, but art is full of such interesting little coincidences . . . make of that what you will . . . )