If the prompts are still up, Curufin saying the ‘i think I am a comedian’ prompt from the intoxication ones with some Finrod/Curufin? 🏳️🌈
“I’m telling you, I’m the funniest person in the world right now. I should be a stand-up comedian!”
Celegorm eyes his brother askance; Curufin was drunk -- drunker than what he would normally tolerate himself to be. It is beyond wobbling steps and biting jokes now; this time, he has crossed the threshold that he has not, ever, even in Aman: he is delirious, and he's babbling. Celegorm thinks that he should have stopped Curufin three bottles earlier, but he had allowed his brother to continue dousing himself with the mulled wine.
He knows that it has something to do with Curufin sneaking about in their suites, holding his own shoes and trying to be silent, forgetting that his brother is a Great Hunter of Oromë; had keener senses than most Eldar, and that they had Huan in the suites with them. Celegorm had heard Curufin trying to shush Huan, and he'd gotten out of bed, stunned, and opened the door. Curufin was indeed there, holding his own shoes, trying to shush Huan. The wolfhound was excited, wagging his tail, looking expectant.
But what made Celegorm gape was the fact that Curufin looked as if he had been mauled by a beast: his brother's usually pristine, ponytailed hair a cloud of messy tangles, his tunic half askew, and under the candlelight Celegorm could clearly see love marks dotting Curufin's neck and clavicle area.
That, and his brother smelled so much like their cousin Ingoldo that it was obscene.
They'd stared at each other. Curufin clammed up, glared, and spat vitriol, snarling, don't ask me questions and I'll tell you no lies! and Celegorm, easy-going, simply raised his hands and gaped as Curufin escaped to the bathroom.
So now, five days later, Curufin gets himself as drunk as Tulkas during the High Feast at Almaren, slurring, throwing cursewords at some inexistent opponent or else himself, and now he declares himself to be a stand-up comedian, and he is funny.
Manwë's sinful nostrils, Curufin could be funny, if he shed all the scowling.
"Why are you funny then, hanno? Tell me," Celegorm asks, deciding to humor his brother. He has an arm around Curufin's shoulders.
Curufin sways in his seat, and his bottle of wine escapes his grip, falling to the carpeted floor with an odd thunk, spilling the drink there, staining the carpet a deep, bruise-like purple.
"I fucked Ingoldo," Curufin tells him this as if he had unearthed how to make new Silmarils. "I fucked him, and he fucked me, and I had a grand old time, Ulmo's tentacles, Turko, how can an Elda have such a sinful little--" He gesticulates with his hands, eyes wide, like an overexcited elfling being presented with food. Celegorm knew he would try to bounce too if he removed the arm by his shoulder.
"Okay," Celegorm says, without missing a beat. "What does Ingoldo have to do with your being a comedian?"
"Because the--because the damn elf plays me like a---a----like one of his harps!!" Curufin declared hotly, turning to him and shoving him on the chest. It would be otherwise painful but Curufin is too drunk for any real strength. "And-- I--- can't---stop---!"
Celegorm whistles. By the Valar, Ingoldo, what-- did you suck his fëa out of his cock--?
Curvo lets out an angry, frustrated, petulant growl. He stands-- sways dangerously enough that Celegorm leaps onto his feet, ready to catch him, but Curufin doesn't fall. He clutches handfuls of his dark hair, and in his drunken frustration he eerily resembles Fëanáro, so much so that Celegorm took a step backwards.
"He's driving me mad, he's driving me mad," Curufin babbles, eyes wild. "He knows what he's doing, the snake. Ha! The emblem of his house is rightly a snake! Fuck him! Fuck him! He knows he's got his fragrant finger wrapped around me, fuck him-- I won't---nobody will take him from me, Turko! Nobody!"
An outraged cry from the shorter elf, and Celegorm freezes as Curufin grabs him by the shoulders and attempts to shake him. This is very funny, because in their family, Curufin is the shortest of the lot.
"I'll kill anyone who tries to take Ingoldo from me! I'll kill them! I'll cut them in half with Angrist! Maim them--"
"Ai, you do that, Curvo," Celegorm says, internally cringing. He frees himself from his brother's hold, and he sits Curufin back down. "You do that. You show those perverted lords and Edain who's residing up Ingoldo's Telerin skirt, you show them, dammit."
"I'll sunder with Helwë completely, and I'll wed him!" Curufin declares. "I will! Then I will be King Consort of Nargothrond! Nelyo--- Nelyo can't look down on me then! Bastard! Look, I got the crown you threw away! I got it back! I got it b--"
Ah, yes, Celegorm thinks as the vomiting begins. He nudges the wooden bucket in front of Curufin, who grabs it, holds onto it, and begins emptying his stomach into it.
He watches, still, as Curufin relocates near the bed, hugging his bucket, and leans his head on one of the bed posts. "I got a plan. I got a plan. I got a plan. Laugh, Turko. I'm a comedian. Laugh, fuck you. Laugh."
"Uh-huh," Celegorm stands. Time to make the trip to Lady Eliril, ask her for her most potent hangover cure. "You stay there and stay alive, eh, Curvo?" He whistles, and Huan comes bounding into the room, tail wagging. "Watch over our poor, besotted drunken elf, will you, boy? Good."
Celegorm leaves, and Huan plants himself beside Curufin, and Curufin leans into the wolfhound's fur now, babbling still about golden hair, jewelry, perfume, and lips that he, Curufin, can't stop kissing.
