Good Riddance

Mellow Soulmate AU.  The situation in Nargothrond comes to a bitter close.  Depending on the POV.  Quenya names used (Curufin = Curufinwë, Celegorm = Turkafinwë, Finrod = Artafindë, Orodreth = Artaresto).  Continuation of the Nargothrond arc, "Whispered", "Hidden", "Evidence", etc... but also related to "Remain", "Snore", "Collide", "Obvious" and "Cut".  Amongst others.  Anyway, takes place in Nargothrond in the year of Beren's quest.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: b/g Finrod x Curufin

Characters: Orodreth, Curufin, Celegorm (mentions Finrod a lot)

Warning: canon-compliant AU, non-canon pairings, slash pairings, betrayal and adultery, canon character deaths, vindictiveness

Words: 1,240
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good riddance (phrase): said to express relief at being free of a troublesome or unwanted person or thing
https://www.google.com/#q=good+riddance+meaning

They did not know he was there, watching.  Or maybe they did and they simply did not care.

He would not expect much from a pair of murderous traitors.

"I do not understand why you are so upset, Curufinwë." As usual, Turkafinwë's voice was low and rasping, faintly tinted with amusement and disdain.  Toward the news of Artafindë's death, he was colder than the Helcaraxë.

"He was our cousin and our friend.  Is that not enough reason to be upset?"

Unlike Turkafinwë, Curufinwë sounded strained, his voice rough and shuddering with distraught emotion.  Artaresto could not see his angular face, half-hidden as it was within the dim lighting of the room, but he could see the trembling of his hands as they clenched taut in the fabric of his tunic.  Could see the way teeth bit cruelly at his lower lip.

The brothers faced off against one another. "He was your lover, but he was my enemy," the older grumbled.  "Artafindë was foolish and reckless and too soft for his own good.  He was not strong enough to hold himself tall in a world of grays.  We needn't have a king who has not the strength to protect and support his people in their darkest hours, and the only reason you wished for him to survive and give up his farce of a noble quest was because you needed him."

Accusation at its most blatant.  Curufinwë turned away as if in shame, dark hair falling into his face and over his shoulders, hiding him nearly completely from view.  And he said nothing.

In Artaresto's breast, resentment bubbled.  If any reconciliation had been possible, it would have been at the cost of the younger brother's pride in openly admitting his love for Artafindë.  In openly admitting some sort of commitment and respect, some sort of need and belief in honor and nobility of royal blood.  And yet, though clearly Curufinwë cared, he stood by and said nothing in the face of his older sibling's disrespect and disregard.  Like a puppet, a sycophant too frightened to speak out for fear of rebuke.

And then, as silken and slippery as a serpent, Turkafinwë approached his younger brother, wrapping long arms around the slightly smaller form and cradling close.  Offering feigned comfort and sympathy in the face of open distraught. "But you do not need him.  We do not need him.  His people do not need him.  And for his loss, we have gained..."

"Why would you say something like that?" Infuriated silver eyes flashed in the dark. "He loved you, Turkafinwë.  Considered you as a brother."

The older brother sighed and shook his head as if in regret.  But Artaresto knew there was no regret to be found in such a twisted and unpleasant creature with such an empty and shriveled heart. "Because it is true.  Artafindë was weak and spineless.  Good riddance."

And Artaresto felt his blood boil at the same moment he watched Curufinwë's head dropped down to rest upon the older elf's shoulder.  As his shoulders began to tremble and quake as his breaths hiccupped and gasped.

As he searched out comfort with his lover's murderer...

How dare they speak of him so!  How dare he mourn for my brother...

And Turkafinwë was smiling.  Cruel.  Cold.  Vicious.

Satisfied.

How dare they believe they have won...

---

The new king looked down at them from the throne and felt his skin prickle uncomfortably, like spider legs crawling up and down bare flesh.  Everything about them left a bad feeling, dirty and tainted, in the very air.  He did not even want to look at them.

But they were here.  And, hopefully, he would never need look upon their faces again.  

Curufinwë's eyes were downcast, firmly focused upon the toes of his worn leather boots as he frowned, his visage the very reflection of his sire in a low mood.  But Turkafinwë was smiling broadly and spine-chillingly as ever, just a hint of tooth showing from between bloodless lips.  A monster if ever there had been one within a cage of startling beauty.

"You have called for us, my king."

It took every ounce of self-control Artaresto possessed not to curl his lip upwards in revulsion at their sight.  But he still looked down upon them, as the highest of nobility looks at a flee-bitten, ragged and homeless vagabond that might sully his gloves if they shook hands.  He did not bother to hide his hatred from them or from his subjects, whose mouths frothed equally with thirst for blood and vengeance for their beloved ruler now dead.

Because of them.

He did not even bother to disguise his glare.

"I did, indeed, Turkafinwë, Curufinwë, my cousins."  How it reviles me to even name you as kin.

"And what is it you want from us?" Turkafinwë asked, and his voice was mocking...

Rude... Cocky... Arrogant...

Everything about Turkafinwë ruffled Artaresto's metaphorical feathers in the wrong direction.  Had he been a less-civilized and more violent creature, he might have tried to strangle the silver-haired man with his bare hands right here and now for such a slight.  But Artaresto was not a violent creature and had taken an oath never to harm with his own two hands unless absolutely necessary, and he would not break such a promise for the sake of these two traitors.

He had something much better in mind.

"I want you to leave this city before the night is out.  Were I less of a weak-willed, honorable man, I would let my guards slaughter you like the swine you are and leave your bodies to rot in the forest for your treachery.  But I would not sully my hands or the hands of my people so with your blackened blood..."

A smile bent his lips, entirely cruel and unpleasant.  A satisfied reflection, resonating disturbingly...

"Thus, I would demand that you never return to Nargothrond.  Neither bread nor rest will you be granted within the fences of my realm, so I speak as King of Nargothrond."

Shocked were the younger brother's eyes.  Hurt, even, for a moment, before everything disappeared once more.  But no pity did Artaresto feel in his heart, for he knew with whom Curufinwë's loyalty would always lie, for whom he would sell his honor and his soul for mere grains of sand in the recesses of time.  No matter how the second brother might have cared for Artafindë--if at all, he had, for all their friendship and lover's bond--he was loyal absolutely to Turkafinwë.

And Turkafinwë was laughing softly before the words had even fully departed the new king's lips.

"Let it be so!"  The laughter rose and rose, echoing through the halls and over the heads of the subjects, who shrank back in fright and discomfort.  In wariness at the display of madness, dangerous and wild.

And then the laughter slowly faded into silence, and Turkafinwë turned away, Curufinwë at his side with a cruel smirk perched upon the lips that had last night been swollen from biting and dipped in the saltwater of tears.  Looking up that face now, there was no sorrow to be seen.

Be it a mask or the truth, it mattered not.  Artaresto knew the truth.

His people had no need for such emotionless, reckless and sinful betrayers.

Good riddance...
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So, this is pretty much the end of this particular arc for now, at least until post-Orodreth's death.  Poor baby, he still has no idea what's going on with Curufin and he still doesn't understand Celegorm and he still has no idea what was going on his Finrod's head before he died.  Poor clueless baby.  We'll see if the future holds anything for him... I was thinking Lothlorien, but I'm not certain...

There is Haldir, after all... Orodreth was supposed to have a kid named Haldir...

More m!preg... yummy huh?

Anyway, the song is Requiem of a Spinning World sung by a couple of the Vocaloids (don't remember which ones).  For some reason, though, I really like the song despite the fact that sometimes I'm not very fond of their totally fake voices.  As for the lyrics, some of it applies and some of it doesn't, and it varies person-to-person.  Just enjoy the music. :3