#The Curious Case of the Parentage of Ereinion Gil-Galad

[yellow-faerie]

#22 with gil-galad son of curufinrod? with either curufin or finrod your choice! :)

You know I was just thinking about this au when you sent this ask? I love writing it so thank you for sending it in!

Send me a prompt from this list.

22 - "I could never hate you. Not truly."

Gil-Galad has been reborn for a long time when word reaches him, in the far flung lighthouse in which he took up residence, that his father had been reborn as well.

Not Finrod, for he had left Mandos' halls before Gil-Galad had even died and often sailed up the coast to see him with mothers and little half siblings and occasionally other family whenever he could.

No, not Finrod.

It is in his brother's most recent letter that Celebrimbor tells Gil-Galad that Curufin had left Mandos' halls for the land of the living and had been living quietly in their grandmother's house for the time being.

It's not public knowledge yet, Celebrimbor had written, and I do not think he knows that I know. I am only aware for Nibenaes is always away of the comings and goings of all the House from how close she is with great-grandmother Míriel.

So Gil-Galad hadn't been expecting anything, especially not as the months turned ever on and there was neither sight nor sound of his father.

Tindómiel and he are cleaning out the great fire pit while the sun is high and boats don't need their direction when there's an angry shout downstairs, something slamming and then silence.

"Finellach!" Eleniquë calls, her voice slightly strained. "Get down here, your father's at the door!"

Tindómiel shares his confusion. "Finrod visited just three weeks ago, I thought he would be in the Valmar by now."

"I guess something must have happened." Gil-Galad rubs his hands on the front of his apron and goes to the ladder. "You'll be OK finishing up on your own?"

"Shouldn't take too long - although ask if Helcaear wouldn't mind helping me moving the logs up here. Give cousin Finrod my love."

The first sign that something is wrong is the complete lack of conversation. Something about Finrod was that he could talk his way into the hearts of literally anyone, and regularly did it - in fact, he'd been up to visit so much that even Helcaear enjoyed conversation with him.

The second and third signs appear at nearly the same time; as Gil-Galad looks around, he sees the downright murderous expression on Helcaear's face and the weirdly adoring one on Eleniquë's.

Gil-Galad scrunches his face in confusion as he untangles his feet from the rug at the bottom of the ladder and turns around.

"Atya, aren't you meant to be visiting your grandmother-"

It all starts to make sense when it's not Finrod standing there.

Curufin still stands tall, his grey eyes still as hard as flint, but there's a certain unsurety to his posture that makes it seem very likely that he might run out the still open front door at any moment.

He doesn't look at Eleniquë who had once worked as a foot soldier for him, nor at Helcaear who's home he once helped destroy.

He just looks at Gil-Galad as if he couldn't believe that he was standing right there.

"My mother's depiction does not do justice to the ellon you have grown into," Curufin says eventually, breaking the silence.

Helcaear makes a sound and Gil-Galad is distinctly aware that he should probably do something lest a fight starts in the front hall.

"Tindómiel needs help with the logs," he says to his coworkers, keeping his expression painfully neutral. "We'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

He turns on his heel, hoping that Curufin is following him but unable to turn around and look. He can feel the burning gazes of both Helcaear and Eleniquë on his back, and he's already thinking of how he's going to respond to their questions later.

How to explain that he's a part of the infamous House of Fëanor, to admit to being the High King Gil-Galad, to explain his childhood to them and every complicated feeling he holds for his family deep in his heart.

Running away - running here - hadn't worked the first time.

"Would you like some tea?" Gil-Galad asks as he closes the heavy kitchen door behind them, just in case there are any eavesdroppers on the other side.

He's still keeping his face in that trained neutrality, the expression he practised endlessly as king.

"No. Thank you."

Gil-Galad wants some tea though. He leaves Curufin standing awkwardly near the door to boil the kettle and find his favourite mug and the best tea and is slow as he stirs honey in.

It's only then that he turns around, feeling in control again.

Looking once more at Curufin leaves that control in shreds. It makes him feel like a small child who's found his way under his sharp judgement yet again.

"Why are you here?" Gil-Galad asks, more accusatory than he had intended to ask it.

He clenches his hands tighter around his mug and they burn.

"I met with your father a fortnight ago," Curufin says and Gil-Galad can hear the careful way he's stepping around his words. "He told me I should come see you."

"You are here at Atya's request?"

That honestly makes sense when Gil-Galad thinks about it but it leaves him feeling weirdly disappointed.

"No," Curufin says, shaking his head, "I am here because you deserve an apology, even though you undoubtedly hate me."

Curufin pauses, as if waiting for Gil-Galad to say something, but he waits in vain as Gil-Galad takes another sip of tea.

"You and Celebrimbor - neither of you deserved to have your family torn apart because of your parents' actions."

"Your actions," Gil-Galad corrects, perhaps a little harshly for - by his own admission - Finrod took up some of the blame for how their years in Nargothrond ended.

"My actions," Curufin agrees a little too readily. "I have made a lot of mistakes in my life - swearing the Oath, killing in it's name - but you and your brother are most definitely not among them."

Gil-Galad's mouth tastes like ash. "If you try to claim that leaving us in Nargothrond was to protect us," he starts, his voice a little shaky, "I shall remind you that we both nearly died in the ransacking."

"I was never going to," Curufin says vehemently and Gil-Galad finds that he believes him. "It was cowardly, thinking I could leave you there so that you would be free."

"Celebrimbor and Finduilas are the reason I was ever free from you," Gil-Galad says, remembering the way the two of them had managed to manipulate Nargothrond gossip to removing mention of Curufin from his parentage. "You just left and made it easier."

"Celebrimbor told me."

Gil-Galad takes a sip of his tea, revelling in the way it burns his tongue and stops him from getting lost in the melancholy of his childhood.

"I never forgot, not once," Gil-Galad tells him plainly. "I used to ask Celebrimbor to tell me stories about you and Atya and my uncles, and he hated doing it but he still did it."

For once in his life, Curufin doesn't seem to have anything to say. Maybe that was his whole apology.

There's this memory, that Gil-Galad has, of hiding behind Celebrimbor's legs as his father and his uncle rally the people of Nargothrond behind them and his father had had so many words then.

Maybe it was because he wasn't baring his whole soul back then.

Maybe it was easier for him to talk a whole people into a frenzy than it was for him to have an honest conversation with his son.

A moment passes where they just stare at each other, and then another.

"I should go," Curufin says and turns to the door.

And that's the thing that gets Gil-Galad the most.

"Again?" He asks, ignoring the lump in his throat and the hitch in his voice and the heat welling at the back of his eyes. "You're going to just up and leave again? You can't even give me an address or-or anything?"

Curufin turns around and looks - Gil-Galad laughs despite himself - terrified, all because Gil-Galad is crying now, in that ugly way that will have his face all red and blotchy and his nose bunged up.

"You just...you come and you go and you never make a fucking effort."

Curufin is frozen, the hand that was on the door handle falling to his side.

"What do you want me to do?" He asks, soft and tentative.

Eru above, there is so much that Gil-Galad would want him to do.

"Right now?" He says, putting his mug down lest his shaking hands pour it all down his front. "I would like a hug."

Curufin is still shitty at hugs. He's all awkward corners and edges that don't quite fold into something comforting, and yet...

Gil-Galad buries his face into the coarse fabric of Curufin's travelling shirt and starts crying even harder.

There's another memory Gil-Galad has.

It's dark, the lights in his room all off but the one by his light dimmed to almost darkness. His father sits on the edge of his bed and he's running his hand through Gil-Galad soft curls.

Gil-Galad is somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and he never quite worked out if Curufin really pressed a kiss to his forehead before he left or if the grief of finding out the next morning that his remaining father had left as well had conjoured the memory in his head.

He doesn't know.

All the time in his childhood that he had known Curufin, he hadn't done gentle affection. If Gil-Galad ever wanted a hug and comfort, he ran to Finrod or Celebrimbor or Finduilas or even his uncle Tyelko.

When he scraped his knee, Finrod would kiss it better but Curufin would wrap it carefully in a bandage and tell him to be more careful next time.

Curufin distracted him when he was sad rather than talking it through, he was painfully practical where Finrod nurtured and smiled and was full of silly metaphors.

Gil-Galad sometimes wonders what attracted the two of them together.

But this hug, the first one since Gil-Galad must have been really small, reminds him that Curufin is still that painfully practical elf. The apology is so him, so stupidly perfect and planned that it makes Gil-Galad want to scream.

"Your apology was based on a false assumption," he says, sniffing and still hiding his face in Curufin's shoulder. "I could never hate you. Not truly."

"Really?" Curufin sounds genuinely incredulous.

Gil-Galad sniffs again and pulls away to rub his nose with the back of his sleeve. "I missed you and I was angry and you have done some really shitty things but I never hated you."

Elrond - one of the few people who knew his actual parentage - had asked him that once, during his continuing angsting over the Maglor Situation (as it had been deemed).

Gil-Galad had told him that whenever he tried, all he could think of was his calloused hands tying a bandage around his knee or the random information that attached itself to the stupid problems little children have or the softness of a kiss to the forehead.

Maybe he was too young when Curufin left to have grown to hate him, and too old to not have fond memories, and the two had mingled together until he had this idea of a father.

Maybe if he forgives Curufin for leaving and for breaking up their family so dramatically, he will find that the man is actually insufferable and grow to hate him.

That, Gil-Galad thinks, is worth the risk.

"Would you like some tea now?" He asks, going to put the kettle back on.

Curufin accepts the tea but declines the offer of a bed for the night - likely wise, considering that Helcaear would probably try and kill him - citing that he left Huan and Celegorm out in the snow somewhere and that they would be returning to civilisation together.

"He probably wouldn't even notice if I left him out there," Curufin says, significantly less tense as Gil-Galad leads him to the door than when he had been let in. "But I would rather not lose him."

"Is that likely to happen?"

Curufin shrugs, making it look remarkably eloquent even in rough travel clothes. "He gets bored very easily."

"Alright then, I'll see you in a few months?"

"I'll send you a letter when Nelyo and Ammë decide on a date." Curufin rolls his eyes. "It's a yearly debate with how many people you have to organise."

Gil-Galad smiles. "Will Atya be there?"

"He might turn up. You should ask him yourself."

Gil-Galad nods, putting that on his mental list of things to do. He opens the door, waves his father away and then he's alone again.

"Is he gone?"

"Fuck," Gil-Galad exclaims, almost falling against the wall. "Tindómiel, don't sneak up on someone like that."

"Sorry," Tindómiel says, not looking very apologetic. "I came down to ask if you wanted any of the roasted hazelnuts Helcaear is making." She lowers her voice theatrically. "If I was you, I'd say yes. He's been pissy all afternoon that we brought a kinslayer into the house."

"He's not going to let it go, is he?"

"Better find yourself a good apology Fin."

[elronds-library]

The Curious Case of the Paternity of Ereinion Gil-galad

by elvntari

Many theories circulate around Middle-earth about the parentage of the High King, and Gil-galad has heard them all. As he senses the end of an era with his reign (and his life) coming to a close he ponders on where it all began. What is the truth? Only one man knows, and it isn't him.

General, Major Character Death

Words: 27,635

[yellow-faerie]

Before you take the prompts down, maybe 30 for the Tyelpe and Gil Galad Brothers AU?

I like this, I like this prompt a lot.

From this prompt list.

30 - "Oh, thank all that is good that I found you, did - ow! Why did you do that?"

When the battle was raging in Nargothrond, Celebrimbor had to keep an eye on both Gil-Galad and his younger cousin.

Of course, he managed to lose both.

And when he'd found Finduilas, pinned to that tree, and quite dead, he had feared the worst for his little brother.

"Lord Celebrimbor!" Someone calls as Celebrimbor is helping one of Orodreth's advisors organise the what refugee stragglers they have managed to find and group together.

Analoth is a young elf, born on these shores around the same time as Finduilas, and had been her lady-in-waiting since both of them could walk. She had not taken the news of Finduilas' death well so it is a surprise to Celebrimbor that she looks quite so...alive.

"Lord, I have seen another group of refugees, coming up from the south. They must have been hiding in the woods." Her eyes have a fiery hope in them. "They might have Prince Ereinion with them."

Celebrimbor's whole heart clenches at the mention of his brother but he manages to keep his face straight. Best not to show anything until there is something more substantial than a hope.

Analoth's face falls slightly. "Is this not good news?" She asks, sounding hurt that Celebrimbor had not taken the news as well as she had hoped.

"No, no it is. Anymore people who survived is a blessing." He turns back to Fanaril, who's gone on to make the necessary annotations to their map while he talked.

"I'm going with Analoth to help scout out this new group. We can finish this later."

"Right, my lord." They roll up the paper and tuck it safely in their bag. "Safe journeying."

Celebrimbor nods and turns back to Analoth. "Show me where they are."

"Not far. I saw them while looking for wild mushrooms. Mushrooms are hardy and I thought some might have survived the orcs destruction. I found a good patch not far away and I saw them coming but I didn't want to wander too far unless...unless it was a trick of the Enemy."

"That was wise," Celebrimbor says, checking that his sword is easy to remove from the scabbard on his back. "On both counts: the mushrooms was a stroke of genius I wouldn't have thought of. When we return, please spread the word to keep an eye out for them."

"Of course."

Celebrimbor lets out a soft sigh and smiles imperceptibly. It's by no means a fix for Analoth's grief but Celebrimbor hopes that keeping busy will help her as it's always seemed to help him.

Analoth starts beside him suddenly and speeds up. "Ah, there's my basket! We're here."

She snatches her mushrooms from the ground and straightens up, looking around. The forest is blackened and still on fire in some places but it is not difficult to see far here.

"Analoth, I cannot see anyone."

She slumps down. "Oh. I swore I could..." She sighs and rubs at her eyes like she's about to cry. "...I guess it was one of the Enemy's tricks."

"But you did good," Celebrimbor says softly, reaching out to gently rub comforting circles into her shoulder. "You managed not to fall for it."

"Yeah." She doesn't sound very happy about it. "I guess...I don't know what I guess."

"Let's go back to the camp, alright? We'll take your mushrooms and I'm sure someone can make something warm to eat out of them."

It takes a little bit more coaxing but Celebrimbor manages to steer her back around and they stumble through the blackened remains of the forest to where their small group of refugees have found a place to huddle.

"Ana!" Someone calls as they get closer and Analoth's older sister appears from the crowd.

"Mina?" Analoth says in surprise and is wrapped in a tight hug by Minloth. Celebrimbor steps away to let them have their reunion and looks instead for Fanaril.

Obviously, while they were away looking for Analoth's hallucination, an actual group of refugees appeared which meant-

His eyes fall upon a familiar head of silvery-gold hair, still tied back with the silver hair pins Celebrimbor had made him for his last begetting day.

Gil-Galad is sitting on a fallen log, swinging his legs and looking a little lost as people swirl around him with greetings for each other.

Celebrimbor passes a few people he knows on his way over but he spares them little more than a smile.

"Gil?" He asks softly and his little brother turns around sharply. Celebrimbor can feel muscles he hadn't known were tensed, relax, and he smiles.

"Oh, thank all that is good that I found you," he says, crouching down in front of him. "Did-" he starts but does not get to finish as Gil-Galad aims a really hard kick against his shin. "Ow! Why did you do that?"

"You left me!" Gil-Galad says, crossing his arms. There are furious tears glittering in his eyes. "You promised Atya that you would protect me and you left me."

Celebrimbor hates how much his voice must break when he speaks again. "Oh Gil, I'm-"

"No!" Gil-Galad looks a little surprised by the force of his words but carries on all the same, "I was scared and it was so loud and busy and I had no idea where you were. You're my brother, you're meant to be there for me, you were meant-"

He cuts off abruptly with a hiccup and he starts crying.

Celebrimbor gently takes his hands in his, wanting to just pull him straight into a hug but not sure whether that would really be appreciated right now.

"Gil," he says and his brother looks up at him, "I'm sorry."

There is a moment where Gil-Galad just stares at him, searching his face for something that Celebrimbor can't quite work out, and just as Celebrimbor thinks that his apology is going to be rejected, Gil-Galad sobs and pushes himself right into Celebrimbor's arms.

"Please don't leave again Tyelpë," he mumbles into the front of Celebrimbor's shirt. Celebrimbor rests his cheek against his brother's hair, still fluffy from childhood even as he gets into his adolescence.

"I shan't. Not if I can help it Hánya."

It's more than his promise to Finrod in a back corridor of Nargothrond. It's more than a half-conversation had with his father in the night. It's more than a hundred words said.

It's simply that Celebrimbor loves his brother with all his heart and he would kneel here, in this thick mud among the burned remains of one of Beleriand's great forests forever if it would bring even an ounce of happiness to him.

"I give you my word," he finishes, in barely a whisper, and he knows the seriousness of such oaths.

[yellow-faerie]

25 for the prompts #3 with Gil-galad as a curufinrod baby please?

Ooh yes! I would love to do some more of this au!

From this prompt list.

25 - "You have to tell [him/her/them]. It wouldn't be right if it was me."

It's dark.

Despite the fact that Nargothrond is underground, it is never dark.

Except for now, apparently, which is appropriate Curufin thinks. His heart is heavy, knowing that Finrod rode to his death and that he caused it, and the lighting is a reflection of that.

They haven't been thrown out yet but he knows it's coming. When news reaches the city of their beloved king's death, the people will not be kind.

He's already told Celebrimbor the plan, how he and Celegorm are going to leave and how Celebrimbor is going to stay here to protect Gil, away from the Doom on their family.

He had told Celebrimbor that Finrod had died and that had been what finally convinced him.

But Celebrimbor is an adult, an elf of his own who can make his own decisions and care for himself.

Gil-Galad on the other hand...

Curufin sits at the edge of his younger son's bed, the springs creaking quietly. He's lying spread-eagled across the bed and drooling and Curufin smiles fondly. Despite only being half siblings, Celebrimbor and Gil have a lot in common and bad sleeping habits are one of those things.

"You have to tell him."

Curufin looks up sharply and finds Celebrimbor standing in the open doorway. It's difficult to tell as the light is behind him but Curufin thinks he is frowning.

"It wouldn't be right if it was me."

"Celebrimbor," Curufin begins quietly but Celebrimbor shakes his head and Curufin sinks back down.

"No. You're being cowardly. You need to tell him the truth as you told me. I'm not going to be the one who tells him his father is dead and that his other father abandoned us - him."

"Tyelpë, I-"

But Celebrimbor has turned away, his piece said, and Curufin is talking to an empty doorway.

He sighs. Celebrimbor is right, as much as Curufin hates to admit it.

He'll tell Gil-Galad. Just...in a minute.

It's selfish, Curufin knows, but he is selfish and he'll take these last few minutes. Let his son have a little bit more peace.

Just a bit longer.

[yellow-faerie]

Gil-Galad being a curufinrod baby.... absolutely big brained. I love this idea so much asdfg

Honestly? I'd probably have to give Ibrithir the credit for the idea here - although I have definitely fallen a little in love with it and would happily write another 5k words. But thank you all the same!