A Different Kind Of Peace by Tyelca

Treason in Tharbad - Part II

Celebrimbor understands something fundamental about Annatar.

This picks up immediately where the previous chapter, Treason in Tharbad - Part I, ended.

Celebrimbor, however, had his confirmation. “There was still no reason to lay waste to my city,” he changed the subject. Although his hands were bound, he tongue was free to speak, attack and defend himself.

“Your city?” This time Annatar did mock. “This is the second time you have named it so. All those years you spoke to me about how you did not wish to rule, how your decision in Nargothrond was the right one, and now you say Ost-in-Edhil is yours?” He laughed. “And then you have the guts to call me the Deceiver!”

“Yet you lied,” Celebrimbor retorted, “not only to me, but you deceive yourself also. For you told me that the Vala you served needed me, but Morgoth has long since been excluded from this world. He is gone, Annatar, and he won’t ever come back!”

Annatar was still knelt close and that was the only reason why Celebrimbor saw the golden eyes flash in pain, in anger, and for the first time since he discovered Annatar was just another mask the Gorthaur donned - the words I carry many and go by even more resound in his head - he empathized. Involuntarily, but the emotion was there. In all their years together they had almost never spoken of the past, but in the few conversations they had had on the subject Annatar had never once mentioned Morgoth, and when Celebrimbor uttered the name Annatar had always been quick to change the topic. It is only now that Celebrimbor understands why - Annatar had loved Morgoth, in a way not entirely unlike how Celebrimbor loved his father.

This truth was entirely foreign to Celebrimbor, but there was no denying the emotions in Annatar’s eyes. The stinging words Celebrimbor had meant to say died on his tongue. In this instant it isn’t Gorthaur the Cruel who has him imprisoned like he intends to imprison all of Middle-Earth; it is Annatar breaking down and Celebrimbor is there to comfort him. Then Annatar composes himself and the moment is gone, and they are once again back in the real world. The discovery has shocked Celebrimbor and shaken him to his core, for despite his allegiance to Morgoth Annatar was pure in a certain way, honest and talkative and excited and so very bright. Celebrimbor did not think even a Maia could fake that for more than three centuries. He remembered Annatar’s words: In every lie there is a grain of truth. It only meant that he’d trusted a sworn enemy and did not even have the excuse of being fooled by a disguise.

The worst thing was that the Annatar he’d known was still there, and not at all a different entity than Gorthaur the Cruel, but one and the same. Celebrimbor looks into the golden eyes and knows these eyes are the same ones Findaráto saw in his final moments, that Lúthien saw underneath Huan’s jaws. He still could not imagine the golden orbs filled with anything threatening or menacing, and even now there was a trace of pain in them.

“Melkor,” Annatar began, stressing the name, “will come back.” It was a statement, not a wish, and despite everything Celebrimbor’s heart broke a little at the unwavering faith the Maia displayed. He saw Annatar would destroy the world ten times over if it meant for the original Dark Lord to return. And then suddenly Celebrimbor understood, how Annatar could be his genuine friend for centuries and still betray him like this. It was not that he did not care about Celebrimbor, Narvi, or all the others whom the Maia had gotten to know during his time in Ost-in-Edhil; he simply cared infinitely more about Morgoth. And it is something Celebrimbor could very well understand, because for a long time he’d felt the same way about his own father. It had taken a lot of doubt and a great deal of conversations with his conscience ere Celebrimbor had been able to make the decision he made. And with Annatar Celebrimbor couldn’t even begin about consequences, for his own hands were stained just as red as Annatar’s.

“He is not returning from the Void, Annatar,” Celebrimbor said gently but his words fell on deaf ears. Annatar refused to believe anything else as the curtain fell before his eyes and he seemed Gorthaur once more, rising and towering above Celebrimbor.

“Now,” that same musical voice said, “I have no desire to hurt you, Celebrimbor, but I will if I must. Where are the Rings I made?”

“The Rings we made, you mean,” Celebrimbor corrected the Maia. “You would not have been able to create them without my knowledge and guidance,” Annatar remarked, but Celebrimbor ignored the words. “I shall not give up their location, Annatar,” he added. “You can do to me whatever you wish, but I am no traitor.” He defiantly looked up at his friend and for a moment their eyes met. Celebrimbor refused to avert his gaze first, so it was Annatar who eventually shrugged. “You already are, whether you believe it or not,” he stated with a soft smile.

His hand, the one with his own Ring on it, caressed Celebrimbor’s black hair and the gesture was so familiar, so well-known, that for a few seconds Celebrimbor leaned into the touch, before Annatar removed his hand again.

“Like I said,” Annatar grinned, “you are a traitor already.”