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* * *

Mablung was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

After the initial unpleasant surprise the first day he’d walked into the staff room at the lodge and seen Celegorm’s name on the schedule, Mablung had settled into resignation with the fact that he and Celegorm would be working together – or at least, that was the theory. They had both been at the preserve several months now, and by some providence (or by some unseen strings being pulled, though Mablung couldn’t fathom how or why) not once had their shifts overlapped. Celegorm tended to work evenings to Mablung’s mornings, and though they’d both been scheduled to work over the holidays, Celegorm turned out absent at the last minute, and none of their co-workers had seen him for a couple weeks now.

Mablung had half hoped the occasion wouldn't arise, that if their luck in avoiding each other had held out this long it would manage a little longer. He knew that Celegorm had been working to get in the training to qualify for work with the preserve’s animals, rotations that would take him away on different tasks. But for the time being, as he accrued his training hours in the off-season months, Celegorm was stuck on trail maintenance shifts with the rest of the crew. Mablung didn’t mind trail duty himself, always having liked the relative solitude and peace of the quiet trails. It reminded him of trips he had taken with Beleg during college, when they used to flee the city with the Mountain Club for the weekend, heading north to the mountains and forests. Today, in addition to the itch put between his shoulders by working this closely with Celegorm, it was thinking of Beleg that kept Mablung from enjoying the solitude. His mind wandered, remembering Beleg’s quiet appreciation for the woods and his eager discussion of their forest management classes, and he was struck with a recurrent pang of loneliness for his friend.

Perhaps it was this that made Mablung glance more frequently at Celegorm than he otherwise would have, always on the edge of saying something. Who else do you have to ask? You've exhausted every other possibility. But each time he looked over, Celegorm would look up too, sensing his eyes on the back of his neck, and catch his eye and glare, untrusting and aggressive as ever.

Don't be an idiot, there's no way you can ask him.

But Beleg wouldn't stop pacing through Mablung's mind, and the itch between Mablung's shoulder blades wouldn't relent. They had been working nearly two hours without speaking when Mablung couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He cleared his throat. “At least it’s cold out now, huh?”

Celegorm grunted.

“The warm weather over Christmas was pretty lame. Sixty degrees, ridiculous.” Mablung listened to himself and seriously considered driving the hatchet he swung idly in one hand into his own face. He couldn't blame Celegorm for looking at him in confused suspicion. The weather, are you fuckin’ kidding?

Celegorm didn’t answer but Mablung resolved to go on, despite the fact that he was starting to wish he could use the hatchet on his own tongue rather than the downed branches across the trail. He glanced sideways at Celegorm’s implacable profile and rigid shoulders and tried again. “Uh, so. Good holiday?”

It was clearly not the right thing to say, because Celegorm just went tenser, his eyes narrowing, and Mablung could hear the breath leave him in a short, angry puff. “No.”

Shit. Mablung remembered something now, filtered down from a friend of a friend, that one of Celegorm’s brothers, one of the little ones, had been in the hospital, some kind of burn…

Fitting, part of his mind supplied snidely, the part that still felt anger every time he heard their family name. An eye for an eye, a burn for the burning…

But he quashed it, feeling, to his surprise a little ashamed at the instinct to throw Celegorm’s family misfortune in his face. “I’m, um, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Celegorm snorted, and Mablung gave up on tact. He had to ask.

“Listen, Fëanorion – Celegorm,” he amended, the name awkward on his tongue, and swallowed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. About if Coach – Oromë – might be able to do me a fav – ” He choked, the hatchet dropping from his nerveless fingers, unprepared for the speed with which Celegorm whirled on him. Celegorm’s irritation and suspicion had turned into black rage in the space of a second, and Mablung cursed himself for forgetting how fast Celegorm could be. Celegorm’s hand was at his throat, and Mablung’s back was shoved up against a tree before he could even get the word out, and Mablung gasped, his hands clawing feebly at Celegorm’s arms. Usually he’d be closer to a fair match for Celegorm, despite Celegorm’s slight size advantage; they’d fought enough in the past and knew each other well enough that in normal circumstances, Mablung could give as good as he got. But now, even though learned wariness had prepared him for Celegorm’s anger, he had been unready for the savagery and speed of Celegorm’s attack.

“Jesus, Fëanorion,” he choked out. “Get…off...”

“You have some fucking nerve,” snarled Celegorm, so close that Mablung could feel his breath hot on his face, “talking about him to me. You have some fucking nerve even saying his name in my goddamn presence.”

Mablung wriggled, opening his mouth around an explanation, and Celegorm tightened his grasp. “In fact, you know what, you sack of shit, just don’t. Don’t say his name, not to me, not where I could ever hear it, don’t talk about him ever, you do not get to say his name to me.” His eyes were so dark with fury they were almost black, and Mablung dug his nails into Celegorm’s wrists, trying in vain to get him to loosen his grip.

“I didn’t mean – ”

“You don’t get to talk to me about him!” spat Celegorm, ignoring his blood welling under Mablung's fingernails. “I know what you think of me with him, and guess what, I’ve heard enough. You don’t get to talk to his slut about him anymore. You lost that privilege, you piece of garbage, after you called me his whore – ”

“I shouldn’t have – ”

“And you want a favor from him now?” roared Celegorm, whose rage seemed only to be mounting. “After he already did you the favor of getting you this job, so I now have to see you every goddamn day? Haven’t you done enough?”

“Celegorm!” yelled Mablung, finally shoving himself free. “Jesus Christ, let go of me, I’m sorry.”

“How dare you be fucking sorry?”

They stared at each other, panting, fists clenched.

“I am, okay?” said Mablung, more quietly. “I shouldn’t have said those things.” He wanted to drop his eyes to the ground, away from Celegorm’s furious stare, but he also didn’t want to take his eyes off Celegorm in case he attacked again. So he kept watching warily, hands loosening at his sides. “I was…actually really surprised Oro – Coach even gave me a rec after what I said to you.”

“I didn’t tell him,” said Celegorm, still breathing heavily. “He didn’t know.”

Mablung let out a long breath. “Oh.”

“He knows now,” Celegorm added, as if an afterthought. “It happened to come up when I learned I’d be working with you.”

Mablung’s shoulders slumped, disappointment and shame rattling through him. “Oh.”

Celegorm folded his arms. “Yeah.”

“Never mind then,” muttered Mablung. “I…yeah. Forget it. Don't worry, I won't bring him up to you again, I know you don't owe me anything." He nudged his dropped hatchet with his toe. "I'll leave this and head back to the lodge and see about getting you reassigned with a different shift mate, okay? I’m….sorry. I know you're not - not - ” He couldn't manage the words. "I'm sorry, though." He had turned back down the path when Celegorm’s voice rang out behind him.

“What was the favor?” He still looked grim and angry, but at least he wasn’t in a fighting stance anymore. He rubbed his wrist where Mablung's nails had torn up his skin. “Just out of curiosity.”

* * *

The clock in the hallway ticked. Huan snored on the living room rug, and the coffee maker gurgled next to the sink. Two pairs of shoulders hunched, so tense that Oromë thought he might be able to hear their muscles creaking under the strain.

He had taken one look at the way Celegorm was determinedly not looking at Mablung, and the way Mablung was looking at his hands like he was forcing himself not to curl them into fists, and clicked his fingers. Nahar immediately padded over and sat down between the two young men, a warm, silent wall of sorts, and Celegorm’s shoulders loosened slightly. He was still clenching his jaw, though, and appeared to be gnawing his tongue as if to keep from bursting out with something, and Oromë sighed.

“I told myself one of the pleasures of no longer having you two on my team was never having to witness you in close proximity to each other again,” he said, breaking the silence as he retrieved the full carafe of coffee and began pouring it into three mugs. “You always were a nightmare to mediate.”

Mablung didn’t say anything, his dark eyes wary as he wrapped his hands around the mug Oromë handed him. He nodded brusquely, and Celegorm's eyes narrowed.

“That isn’t the only pleasure of no longer having me on the team, is it?” he said brazenly, and swung out a foot under the counter to run it against Oromë’s calf.

Mablung looked away, cheeks burning, and Oromë glowered at Celegorm, who stared back at him with a wicked glint in his eyes, and licked his lips, deliberately provocative, his foot sliding higher.

Oromë stepped out of his reach and hissed, “Knock it off.”

“Knock what off, Coach?”

“I’m gonna go use… Uh, where’s the bathroom?” Mablung still wasn’t looking at either of them.

“First door on the right.” Oromë pointed, and Mablung slid of his stool and made haste from the room, giving Celegorm a wide berth. As soon as he was out of sight, Oromë reached across the counter to flick Celegorm’s ear. “Knock it off, Tyelkormo. What’s wrong with you?”

Celegorm smirked. “What do you think he’d do if he came back in and we were making out? Or I can hop up on the counter and wrap my legs around your waist and you can – ”

“I am not above squirting you with the water pistol I use on the dogs,” said Oromë, and shoved the second cup of coffee across the counter to Celegorm. “Act like an adult, not a small-minded bully.”

Celegorm curled his lip. “And how about you? Are you gonna act like you’re still our coach giving us a lecture on how to behave, or are you gonna act like you’re my boyfriend?”

“I’m not either of your coach, I am your boyfriend, and I intend to act like myself. Listen,” Oromë leaned forward and caught Celegorm’s chin, “you are the one who brought him here, when after what he said I would entirely understand if you never wanted to see him again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him. You’re the one who told me I didn’t have to be angry and that I should listen to what he has to say.”

“Did I say that? Yeah, well, seeing him in your house kinda makes me reconsider.” Celegorm scowled but pushed his face against Oromë’s palm like a dog angling for a stroke. Oromë obliged him, sliding his fingers into Celegorm’s hair and dragging them against his scalp. Celegorm’s posture visibly relaxed, and his expression smoothed out.

Oromë smiled despite himself and touched Celegorm’s lips. “How am I ever going to get you to simmer down?”

“Psh, like you actually want that.”

Oromë didn’t try to deny it. “Look, after this afternoon I promise you never have to see him in this house again, if you don’t want to. But can we try to get through at least the next hour without making him horribly uncomfortable? Can we avoid PDA just for the sake of seeing him squirm?”

Celegorm grinned. “Kind of entertaining, right?”

“Kind of petty. You’re better than that.”

“I dunno that I am.” Celegorm looked thoughtful. “Petty seems pretty in character for me.”

“You are better than that.” Oromë thumbed at Celegorm’s lower lip. “I know you are above making someone feel uncomfortable out of spite.”

“Hah. You have always been such a sucker.” Celegorm rolled his eyes fondly and cocked his head. “You are so hopelessly in love with me that you’ve forgotten I’m a total dick.”

“Okay, fine, if I agree that you’re a total dick will you behave?” Oromë looked both amused and exasperated as Celegorm laughed. “He must have said something that made you agree to bring him here. What favor exactly does he need from me? What is this about?”

“It’s about Beleg,” said Mablung from the doorway. He had his hands in his pockets and looked like he didn’t want to cross into the room while Oromë was still touching Celegorm. Oromë pulled his hand back, but Celegorm got up anyway and came around behind the counter to lean against his side possessively. Mablung flushed again, but didn’t look away this time, instead meeting Oromë’s eyes squarely. “And Túrin.” He took a deep breath. "I think they're in trouble."

Chapter End Notes

3. THIS CHAPTER IS EXACTLY 5000 WORDS. This accomplishment means I can now retire on my laurels, right? Story over, byyye

4. ...I did some editing and now it's not 5k even. Sob. So I continue on...

People make some good ol' love

Chapter Summary

In which we meet a significant figure from Túrin’s past, and a certain couple tries something new.

Chapter Notes

0. Warnings: the second half of the chapter contains frank discussion of sex and first times and frank (but non-explicit) description of same. Equally frank shmoop may occur.

Dor-Lómin Sentinel, April 14 2014

LOCAL STUDENT TO ATTEND DORIATH SCHOOL OF ARTS AND SCIENCES AT BELERIAND UNIVERSITY

High school senior Túrin Turambar was reluctant to discuss his recent scholarship to prestigious Beleriand University – a prize awarded to just one student each year and personally selected by school president Elu Thingol. “I guess it’ll be better than tech school,” was all Turambar said when our reporter approached him, and then intimated he had a practice to attend and disappeared. “He’s overwhelmed,” said a Turambar acquaintance who gave his name only as Gethron. “Well, maybe. He might just be being rude.”

(See SCHOLARSHIP, 14a)

Beleriand University Daily Bugle, September 6 2014

INTERVIEW WITH FIRST YEAR SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT

[Editor’s note: This year’s recipient of the Greycloak Honors Scholarship, first year Túrin Turambar from Dor-Lómin, was unavailable for an in-person interview despite repeated phone calls but finally agreed to answer our questions by email. His responses have not been edited for length.]

BUDB: Congratulations again, and welcome to Beleriand U! It must have been an exciting transition. Tell us a bit about what you’ve been getting out of the school so far and what you’ve been enjoying.

TT: The rugby team.

BUDB: Team members of yours we’ve spoken to say you’re already part of the starting line-up for the season opener. What is it like playing rugby at the college level after years on a high school club team? How are you feeling about your prospects in the first game?