Silver and Stone by Zdenka

Chapter 1

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There is an Elf in his workshop, and Narvi is trying to find out why.

“Whenever I saw some stonework here that was especially beautiful or interesting,” the Elf says, “and I asked who made it, they kept telling me, ‘Master Narvi made that!’ Then I knew I must see Master Narvi. The Noldor believe a craftsman’s heart can be seen in his work.”

“Will you show me your own work?” Narvi asks, sceptical.

The Elf casts about, then unfastens his silver hair-clip and holds it out. His black hair tumbles down about his shoulders like a curtain of silk.

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“The quickest way is through that passage,” Narvi says, “but it has no lamps. I know it well enough to walk it in the dark.”

“Then guide me,” Celebrimbor says, smiling, “and I will go with you—only provided the ceiling is high enough.”

Celebrimbor follows him into darkness without hesitation, walking with his hand on Narvi’s shoulder. Narvi feels a warm surge of affection. What other Elf would trust himself completely to a Dwarf, in the darkness beneath the mountain? What other Elf would want to be here at all? He is almost sorry when they reach the light.

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They stand together in the moonlight before the Doors, their work finally completed. “It’s beautiful,” Celebrimbor says softly. It is, and so is he, lit by the silver glow of ithildin shining over his face and hair. “And our names are joined there, forever.”

“Not forever,” Narvi says. Even the strongest stone wears away with time.

“Until the ending of the World, then,” Celebrimbor says swiftly. He kneels down beside Narvi, their heads almost level, and takes his hand. “Would you have it so?”

“I would,” Narvi says finally. Celebrimbor presses their joined hands to his heart, like a vow.