Collide

Mellow Soulmate AU.  When Fate takes the initiative to rearrange the center of gravity.  Or, Celegorm on his love for Lúthien.  Quenya names used (Tyelkormo = Celegorm, Fëanáro = Fëanor).  Actually, this really reminds me of "Addicted", but the two brothers have a rather different perspective about their respective soulmates.  Takes place in the First Age, just before Beren runs off Silmaril-hunting (and drags Finrod with him >.>).  Almost entirely introspective.

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns the characters, but I'm pretty sure he would sink this ship if he could

Pairings: Celegorm x Lúthien (peripheral Fëanor x Nerdanel and Caranthir x Haleth)

Characters: Celegorm, Lúthien (mentions of Fëanor, Nerdanel, Finwë, Indis, Caranthir, Haleth, Beren, Thingol, Morgoth, Curufin, Maedhros, the Valar, the Ainur, House of Finarfin and some random Sindarin elves... I think that's everyone LOL)

Warning: soulmate AU, obsessive behavior, possible insanity, stalking, allusions to death, theories about the House of Fëanor

Song: Written in the Stars

Words: 1,023
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
collide (intransitive verb): to come together with solid or direct impact; clash
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/collide

Some things were just meant to be.

Like the stars were meant to be.

Like the sun and the moon were meant to be.

Like the joining of two halves of one soul were meant to be.

But Tyelkormo had never really believed in the last one.  He had seen enough drama over love, over soulmates, to know that the world did not work in such a perfect manner, that the Black Enemy's theme had done more damage than anyone could have predicted.  Nothing was perfect.  Nothing.

Of course, he had not been around when the King had taken his Vanyarin wife--his second mate--but Tyelkormo was more than aware of the affect it had had on his own father and on the people.  He knew that it had broken the rules laid down by the Valar themselves, the rules that said a man only take one mate in his lifetime and vice versa.  The rules that said there was a Fated for everyone, only One, the one you were destined to be with.

But Finwë had broken those sacred rules without hesitation or regret.  Tyelkormo had always secretly, bitterly, wondered if things could have been different had the King been less selfish, had he refrained, or if reality would have degenerated even without the dark cloud of hatred hovering over all of their Houses for as long as Tyelkormo could remember.

And then there had been his own parents.  Fëanáro and Nerdanel.

Nerdanel had been Fëanáro's One, yet he had brushed her off at every turn, disregarded her advice, turned away from her pleas and ignored her warnings.  He cared more about his crafts and projects and glowing jewels than he ever had about his wife and children, or so it seemed to Tyelkormo, who knew the love of a mother and older brother, but never that of a father.  There had been loyalty to family, and obligation to obey, but never familial love and devotion.

One thing was certain.  Fate could make you the other half of someone's soul, but she could not make you come together into perfect harmony.  And she could not make you yearn.  She could not make you want and desire.  She could not control you.

Or so he had thought.

Until he had seen her.

Seen her dancing in the twilight, her voice raised in vivid song, her hair braided with pearls and her blue and gold dress falling over every curve and lithe muscle so perfectly.  His first glimpse of the lady Lúthien had stolen his breath and captured his stone-cold heart.  His One.  Enchanting.  Glorious.  Breathtaking.

And she loved another.  Not even another elf.  An atan.  A man.

But never mind that she loved another.  Never mind that he was a murderer and a traitor.  Never mind that their people despised each other.  None of that even mattered to him when his gaze rested upon her sitting in the shade, embroidery in her lap, or watched her walking with her ladies-in-waiting through the woods, laughing and twittering.

In the twilight, he watched her.

He should have felt shame for spying on her, but he could not look away.  Never again would he ridicule Carnistir for having been so obsessed with his mortal woman, for Tyelkormo knew that to look away was like stabbing himself in the chest and cleaving a ragged hole out of his heart, bending his ribs and twisting until they cracked.  Every time he had to leave her, had to pretend for his brother that nothing was happening, had to return to Nargothrond beneath the watchful eyes of his cousins and move on with his life, he thought he died a little more in secret.

Or maybe he just went a little crazier.  Maybe his mind cracked a little more with each loss of her light.  Maybe his eyes became a touch brighter and wilder.  Who could say?

All he knew was that his Nightingale had slammed into his life and demolished his reality, had crashed headlong into his world, and everything he lusted for and cared about had exploded like the death of a star, blinding him to all else but her and her face and her lips and her eyes.  Gravity abandoned him to the wrath of her magnetic pull, and the flame of passion that burned for her scorched his soul.

When he was away from her, he couldn't breathe.  Every day was torment, stretching on forever.  But being close to her was worse still, because he could not touch her, could not even speak to her.  He was a Kinslayer, and Thingol had banned them from the realm, threatened to have them slaughtered should they dare defile his lands with their filthy breath and tainted touch.  Even being here now, watching her, was putting his life on the line.  If Thingol should catch Tyelkormo spying on his only child, his beloved daughter, coveting and lusting for her...

But he couldn't stop.

She was his One.  His Fated.  They were meant to be.  Like the stars.  Like the sun and the moon.

Fate, though, worked in ways no Eruhína could understand, nor even the Ainur.  And Tyelkormo knew all too well that few happy endings waited at the conclusion of the harsh road of reality.  Rare, it was, that the ending was truly fair at the finish of the long journey through insanity and hatred and revenge.  And he knew...

He knew that he would never hold her.  Never kiss her.  Never touch her.

Lady Lúthien had indeed collided with his being, buried herself like a poisoned shard in the fleshy wound of his soul, filling his veins with traitorous, toxic hope.  Day by day she was killing him.

Gladly would he die a slow, painful death for her.  She was as much a part of him as his heart and lungs, a necessary organ that he could not live without.  For her, he knew he would sacrifice anything, would follow her anywhere.

To the heavens.  Or into death.  Anything for her.  His One.

His Nightingale.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sappy and angsty.  I love this pairing so.

Anyway, the song that I'm listening to (still) actually fits pretty well with the story, I think.  This is Caitlin's cover of Written in the Stars by Tinie Tempah feat. Eric Turner.  Don't really like the original all that much, but love this cover so much.  If you aren't into electric violin, though, it may not be your thing LOL.

Found this amazing picture of Lúthien.  It's not usually the sort of style I prefer, but the colors just made me swoon (not literally, but figuratively, you know?): Luthien Tinuviel on the way by ~goraakkaya on dA.  I think I just love the freedom in the strokes and form of the images, that they aren't being bent to reality quite as much as, say, a portrait-type picture would be.  I personally find that to be a quality to be admired, plus it gives it that fantastical otherworldly feeling that really brings the image to life.

Uh... enough of me geeking out over art LOL.  You must be sick of me by now.

By the way, Eruhína = Child of Eru (Child of God in reference to the elves and men, Firstborn and Followers)