1. Chapter One
“You are far from home.”
His head turned sharply around, and saw a silver-haired elf walking towards him with a great air of composure. “You.”
“Me,” Celeborn replied serenely, falling into step beside him. “Galadriel and I decided to leave Ardh-in-Eledhil for a time. She decided to visit her kin in Tirion, and I decided Irmo’s gardens were much more alluring.”
“You possess her,” he said bitterly. “Must you flaunt it to my face?”
The Sinda laughed. “You of all people, Celebrimbor, should know that Galadriel allows no one to possess her. She merely allows us to grace her company.” Celeborn shook his head. “And it was not my intention to boast.”
His lip curled slightly. “You have spent a good portion of your life hating me. Why so gracious?”
“True enough,” the Sindarin Prince admitted. “I have. I suspect you have spent equal, if not more, time hating me.”
Then why are we standing around talking so civilly about it?
“I find that my time is wasted spent on hate over something that happened long centuries ago.” A flash of grief crossed his face, and Celebrimbor knew that that grief was still fresh. “I will never forget the deaths of my people—” Celebrimbor flinched, “—in Eregion. And though I cannot forgive you for creating the accursed Rings, I am trying not dwell on it overmuch. Things change, Arda changed, and we changed along with it.
“What are you doing here?”
Celebrimbor folded his arms defiantly. “Why do you ask?”
“The eve of Valian, a chance to meet many of your relations again, some for the first time, and you are miles away by the pools of Lórien.”
Does it matter if I tell him? he wondered. After all, what have I to lose? “I do not fit in Tirion,” he said abruptly, staring at the marble and gold arch at the end of the pool. “I am Amanyar, yes, but I spent perhaps a year of my life here, just before—” He broke off for a moment before continuing. “These… These Amanyar smiths talk of doing great works, they talk of creating new things. And that is the problem: all they do is talk.” He frowned, and added, half to himself, “Is there any time they—”
“Stop talking and simply act on something?”
Celebrimbor looked at him in shock. “You know what I am talking about?”
“Of course.” Celeborn raised an eyebrow, and said dryly, “I may be Sindarin, Celebrimbor, but I am far from unintelligent.” He chuckled. “When I arrived, it was much worse. Politics and power mixed with everyday life; ever word could have some double meaning.”
He scowled. As much as he disliked Celeborn, he could not help but agree, and give a grudging respect for the other’s tolerance of his relatives’ ways.
“Well, then,” Celeborn said mildly.
Celebrimbor looked at him, suspicious.
“We must find a way to make you fit in, so we may return to mutual dislike, instead of this awkward camaraderie. Come. I believe there is someone you should meet.”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.