Disclaimer: Arda and all that is in it belong to Professor Tolkien. I own only the mistakes.

The story is based on the published Silmarillion and some details from other versions of texts in The History of Middle-earth (Volume 3 and 11, to be specific). It is, though not groundless, only one possible interpretation of 'history' and has no claim on the 'truth'.

The title and chapter titles are taken from the Black Album of Metallica: Sad But True, Holier Than Thou, Don't Tread on Me, Through the Never, and The Unforgiven.

Many thanks to onoheiwa@ff.net for beta reading!

Chapter 1. Holier Than Thou

They said he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her, simply because of her 'sudden beauty revealed beneath the sun'; but they were wrong, completely wrong.

As an experienced hunter, he was perfectly capable of walking through the corridor without making his footsteps heard, but he took satisfaction in breaking the silence and had no intention in concealing his presence. Nargothrond had numerous halls and chambers excavated by the Naugrim. Although as a guest he did not have the liberty of accessing all of them, the restriction was lifted after Finrod's departure. Now he knew this stronghold very well, for he had explored every part of it. No one raised an objection; no one even tried.

Not quite true, he thought. Someone did. It was Orodreth, Finrod's younger brother, the Prince Regent here - of course, in title only. How could Finrod believe his weak-hearted brother could successfully rule this kingdom in his name, against their powerful kin? Was there any one who could stand against two sons of Fëanor?

He entered a devious passage, for which he had issued an order: no one could approach without permission from him or his brother, for his beautiful captive was kept alone in the chamber at the end of it. It could be argued how legitimate this arrangement was, but he did not make life miserable for her; why would he anyway? He was supposed to marry her.

Lips curling, he managed a contorted smile.

Yes, he would marry her, regardless of whether it was against her will.

...

- Turko, bring her back with us.

- Why? You know I have no interest in their strange affair.

- She is the daughter of Thingol, his only daughter, his heir. Thingol has never been willing to open his gate for the House of Fëanor, but with her you will have the key to Doriath, a key that will definitely unlock a great power.

- What do I care about Doriath?

- You are asking while knowing the answer. Surely you have not forgotten our oath. As of now we do not have enough strength to fulfill it. We need more support and an opportunity is right in front of you, an opportunity that cannot be missed. Once you win her heart, Doriath will be ours.

- If my eyes and ears did not betray me, she loves that mortal. Her heart is already won.

- Then let that mortal die. Doriath will be ours. And leave Finrod to die. Nargothrond will also be ours. The House of Fëanor will rule Beleriand, while the usurpers have only the northern lands... and a hidden city at most.

...

Involuntarily, his smile vanished.

The door was locked, and it was Curufin who had made it. Only the two sons of Fëanor here possessed the keys, and no others were allowed to visit her.

Again, not quite true, he thought. There seems always to be an exception. A familiar figure lay in front of the door, still like stone, eyes filled with sorrow and vigilance. It was Huan, the wolf-hound that had followed him since the days in Valinor.

This is unacceptable, he thought. Why do you worry, Huan? What on Arda do you think I might do to her? I know you do not like this arrangement, but there are things you do not understand.

His cold glance made the hound stand up and step aside without protest. Not without hesitation, he noted, but to his relief there was no suspicion or mistrust. Yet.

He unlocked the door and entered the chamber. Lúthien Tinúviel, daughter of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia, was quietly sitting inside. Having refused all the delicate and luxurious clothes he and his brother sent her, she was still wearing her sky blue garment, the same one she wore when they found her. Her long dark hair was like the shadows of twilight, her bright grey eyes the mist over starlit water.

He looked at her, still surprised and disturbed by the fact that her beauty seemed to have no effect on him. This is strange, he thought, and unfair. He remembered her overwhelming beauty when she pulled off her hood in front of them, a beauty next to which even the sunlight at high noon seemed pale and dim. All his guards gazed at her then, unwilling to move their eyes, but he raised a single brow, passionless though not indifferent.

In a surge of wry anger, he kicked the door closed behind him and made a step towards her, significantly reducing the distance between them, for the chamber was not large. He could not tell whether her almost imperceptible flinch was due to the slamming sound or his approach, however, he decided to take it as the latter and managed a smile, lordly and mocking.

'Do not worry,' he lowered his head towards her gracefully, as if he and she had met at a formal ceremony. Many predators would play with their prey, a fact no one knew better than he. 'I will not touch you, not for now at least. In the future, maybe, but that is for you to decide.'

She straightened slightly.

'I sent to your father to tell him: the mortal Beren died, as did Finrod with him; I will be the King of Nargothrond and you wish to stay here to be my Queen. We will marry once we receive his blessing, but even then I will not touch you if you do not wish me to.' Seeing a flicker of surprise in her eyes, he laughed. 'I am to take your hand, not your life. From what I have heard, you are only valuable alive.'

He knew he sounded like Curufin, but he did not care. It mattered not who actually made this whole plan, because he approved it, though for different reasons. Ever since the fulfillment of the Oath had become a seemingly impossible task, he had been actively looking for entertainment: a pinch of spice to a plain dish, a moment of amusement in a tedious hunt.

She looked at him without a word. Contrary to what he had expected, she showed no abhorrence, anger, or fear - not even the slightest sign of it. He found himself a little confused, but not surprised. Indeed he had no interest in knowing her. He never liked speculating what others might have on their minds, nor was he good at it. For that, Curufin was the master.

...Knowing more about animals than people...

Out of nowhere, suddenly and violently, pain assaulted him from the inside. Almost trembling, he cursed himself as he always did. It has been such a long time; why will you not simply forget?

He sensed that she fixed her eyes on him. Her silence and composure finally consumed his patience, and he could no longer bear to face her. He turned abruptly and started striding towards the door. It was neither ambition nor desire that troubled him. It was something else, more sad, yet more real.

'Lord Celegorm,' she spoke then, addressing him by his Sindarin name. He stopped without looking back.

'You would not go to rescue him as you promised, would you?'

He made no answer, but she needed no answer.

'Neither would you go to rescue your kin - King Felagund.'

'He is only my cousin,' he muttered. So she knows, to some extent. But what do you really know, daughter of Thingol? My kin or not, none of it matters. This is not the first time I betrayed my so-called kin. Even if he died, he would not have been the first who died because of me.

'Yet you and your brothers never even tried to rescue your eldest brother.' said that sweet, nightingale-like voice, thorns in her every word.

'That is the least of your concern!' he said, whirling around in fury. 'Now listen to me. You should pray, for that is the best you can do. Pray that your mortal may suffer less before he dies. And for your comfort, keep this in mind: if he were ever to come back, I might allow you to...keep in touch with him, for I cannot touch you anyway. I am much more generous than your father.'

He saw her face losing color and found satisfaction in it.

'I will not marry you.' she stated.

'You do not have a choice.' he said, eyes cold. 'Your father's blessing is not strictly required.'

'I will not give my vow to you.' she restated.

'Fortunately I have no need of it,' he replied. 'As I said, I have no problem taking you as my wife in name only. You can continue your affair with that mortal if you like - he will die anyway, very soon by our standards. And even if an Elf and a Man could have a fruitful marriage, their children would be doomed to mortality as well.'

Again, he could not take credit for these words, because it was Curufin who reached this conclusion one day when the discussion came up about what kind of future an Elven maiden might have with a mortal. Nevertheless he found them extremely proper under the current situation, springing from cruel reality and clear disgust. He saw no other way to tear down the irritating pride and stubbornness of Thingol's daughter.

And he succeeded.

She did not refute at once, for she would not deny the truth in his words. She looked at him, and the only word that could summarize what was in her eyes would be sadness. To his surprise, this time he found himself deeply troubled by her gaze. As incapable as he was in understanding other minds, he could still see clearly that her sadness was not for herself, or for Finrod, or even for her lover.

Then words came from her, words that nobody dared to utter in front of him in the past.

'Lord Celegorm, you love someone else.'

'Stop,' he said instinctively, his heart stuttering.

'I know you intend to take over Doriath through me. However, do you truly wish to pay the price, a bond that you do not desire but will last until the end of the World?'

He closed his eyes, opening them swiftly a moment later. This conversation had somehow gone out of his control and he needed to end it. 'Stop.'

'And I know you are not giving up your love for the oath you and your brothers have sworn.'

Because I am not giving up my love, he thought, in spite of himself. I never would.

Suddenly he realized that he was not concealing these thoughts from her; she read them from his eyes and instantly knew the truth. He knew he could not afford to allow her to speak of it. Action preceded consideration and he slapped her in the face without thinking, just to secure her silence. He needed no one to remind him of the past.

The next moment he retreated in disbelief, staring at his own hand, stunned and abhorred. Violence had not been alien to him these days, but that was for his foes. This was the first time he had used it against a defenseless Elven maiden. While his mind churned with thoughts and worries of what ailed him, there came a low growl from outside. Huan, he thought. Blame me as you wish. I am not proud of what I have done.

But it was her voice that broke the silence, sad but calm.

'Then I pity you, Celegorm.'

Her words whipped him mercilessly and left him full of rage. Yet, he was still helpless, like a hound feeling unfairly punished when the punishment was just. When he finally walked out, following some incomprehensible urge, he did not lock the door.

Later that day, Curufin came to him. When his younger brother entered his room he was already in bed, staring at the dancing flames of a candle, feeling no need for rest.

'Did you talk to her, Turko?'

He nodded without taking the trouble to sit up.

'What did she say?'

'What else could she say?' he fidgeted. 'Do you think she would be looking forward to marrying me?'

A maid entered with a light knock. He waved her out impatiently, knowing his words must have been heard. Tomorrow, probably, this place will overflow with rumors saying I have fallen in love with Thingol's daughter, he thought. So be it. Sometimes lies are better than the truth.

'My understanding is that you know how important this arrangement is to us.' said Curufin's gentle voice, in an ever firm and convincing tone. Among the seven brothers Curufin resembled their father most, not only in appearance but also in the talents of making; however, Curufin's way was not their father's way. This difference seemed particularly confusing given all the other similarities, and it always made him a little uneasy around this brother. 'You know this is the best opportunity we have come across, in order to fulfill the Oath.'

'Well, I am afraid I have failed to see how the Oath can be fulfilled more easily if Finrod dies with that mortal in Gorthaur's dungeon.' he said, voice dripping in sarcasm. 'Because the Silmarilli are excluded from our primary concern before we secure two Elven kingdoms in our hands.'

The light in Curufin's eyes grew cold. 'Innocence is a little too late for you to claim, my brother. Surely you remember how we managed to facilitate Finrod's departure. You were so eloquent that for a moment I found myself at a loss.'

'Yet in time you still found much to say, and made a much more convincing impression.' He sat up and brushed back a lock of hair. Among the seven brothers he had the fairest appearance, though perhaps not quite as fair as his cousin Finrod, but he surpassed him by having the proud bearing of one of the House of Fëanor. 'Do not take me wrong. I did not mean to play innocent. We lost our right to that word long ago.'

And when on Arda had it happened?

He put out the candle after Curufin left, lay down again and stared into the darkness alone.

Since when had betrayal turned into something ordinary? Since when had killing ceased to be disgusting? Since when had even biting the hand that fed them become acceptable, even natural?

He recalled himself, proud and furious, sword shining in hand and fire burning in his eyes. That was when he first learned Finrod's plan: to help a mortal named Beren retrieve a Silmaril from Morgoth's iron crown. It was true that Finrod harboured him and Curufin in Nargothrond after their defeat in Dagor Bragollach. It was also true that Finrod showed great generosity indeed, considering that they were responsible for the slaughter at the Haven of Swans. But if he was not mistaken, this time Finrod intended to help a base mortal to win the hand of Thingol's daughter by a quest for a Silmaril, one of the Three Jewels that belonged to the sons of Fëanor by right. If Finrod felt like dying for his own irresponsible promise, so be it, but leave the Silmarils out of it. He and his brothers had vowed to take back those jewels and would never suffer others to take, have, or keep any of them. Of course Finrod was aware of it. When they took their oath, was the wise eldest son of Finarfin not present? Nonetheless Finrod decided to keep his own word and showed no concern with theirs. This left the sons of Fëanor no choice, for if they could allow this to happen, what else on Arda could not be allowed?

He spoke at that time, as eloquently and fiercely as his father did in the high court of Tirion. After he finished, Curufin spoke, in his ever steady and graceful manner, with the same firmness and yet with more terrifying indications - Finrod's plan would lead Nargothrond to war. The evil fire of Morgoth would destroy their hard-earned peace. Had they not witnessed the disaster of Dagor Bragollach? Had they not heard of what happened to Dorthonion? Or, if they were courageous and valiant indeed, why not follow the example of their beloved High King and go to challenge the Dark Lord himself, face to face?

Doubtlessly he and his brother won the debate. Besides the mortal, Finrod brought merely ten warriors with him on a path that could only lead to failure. And now his noble-hearted cousin was trapped in Sauron's dungeon, paying for his own folly, fate still uncertain.

And of course he would not go to rescue him.

This is not the first time I betrayed my so-called kin. And even if he died, he would not be the first who died because of me.