What Brings Us Together by Aipilosse

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Hunger

Thank Visitor for making the jokes more accessible in the first place, but I think some translations are still in order.
Alaquen - Q. Nobody (fan invented)
Titsë - Qenya. Kitty
Úmiuon - Q. Not-cat (thanks to undercat for the suggestion!)
Úvanimo - Q. Monster, corrupt or evil creature

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Celebrimbor did not sleep much that night. Longing, anger, and sadness tore at him in equal measure, his moods switching from one moment to the next. He remembered every moment Annatar’s blazing focus had been fixed on him; the feeling of being seen, of being understood, and of being exceptional, based solely on the attention Annatar paid him. But rage, too, simmered as he thought about Annatar subjecting him to this decision at all — he should know that this choice would be unbearable. Celebrimbor also found the fact that he had not simply rejected Annatar out of hand enraging, the anger he felt at himself warring with all the other frustrations. 

And even if he said yes, took Annatar back with all the baggage that entailed, how long did they have? Months? Weeks? Less? For all that he had said they were in no hurry to turn Annatar over to the Valar, Celebrimbor also knew they couldn’t shelter him here indefinitely. He did not know what Finrod had told the High King, but he knew he had implied some sort of eventual end to their experiment. 

As to Annatar’s fate, well. Morgoth had spent three ages in Mandos for his crimes at the dawn of Arda, which at that point could be considered less than the evil the Lord of the Rings had wrought upon Middle-earth. Some might quibble on the origins of Arda Marred and the guilt that transferred, but he doubted Annatar would get away with any lesser punishment.

These thoughts were still blearily chasing each other around his mind as he shuffled down to the kitchen for breakfast. He banged the kettle around enough to ensure that no one would bother him while he ate the cold cakes that were left over from earlier this morning and drank his coffee. 

Unfortunately his parents, who entered shortly after he started eating, were immune to any effort he put in to cultivate a standoffish aura — or more likely didn’t care. Curufin and Ornéliel sat down across from him, an expectant look on their faces. Celebrimbor looked between them with growing apprehension. Now that he thought about it, he had not seen them around Ondomar recently; both seemed to spend far more time at Áremar with Írissë. He had assumed they had been roped into wedding preparations over there, but he suddenly realized that there was another, more obvious answer that he hadn’t wanted to consider — they were plotting something together.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Ornéliel managed a wounded look. “Can I help you? What if I simply want to eat breakfast with my son?”

“You’re not eating anything,” Celebrimbor pointed out.

“It’s come to my attention that even though all three of us are in the same house for once, we haven’t spent any time together.” Curufin was using the same tone he did when trying to get legislation passed in Tirion.  Celebrimbor thought this spoke volumes as to why they had not been associating as a trio.

“That was no accident,” Celebrimbor said. “You know I will happily spend time with both of you separately, but we all remember what happened last time we tried to have a family dinner, just the three of us.” The result had been Curufin and Ornéliel screaming at each other over a poorly mixed drink before the evening had really begun, leaving Celebrimbor with flashbacks of being thirty and trapped in their endless arguments again.

Curufin and Ornéliel exchanged a look. “You know your father and I are passionate people,” Ornéliel said.

“What did you want to speak to me about?” 

Ornéliel opened her mouth, a protest on the tip of her tongue, when Curufin cut in. 

“Your mother and I are going to pursue official separation.”

Celebrimbor set down his fork and rubbed his eyes. “What? Why? Hasn’t our family set enough precedents in marital law? And aren’t you already separated?”

“As you know, after you and your father left me, I had no recourse. The Statute of Míriel and Finwë states that if a spouse dies, they can choose to remain in Mandos forever, and sever their marriage bond, but that yields all control to the slain partner.” Ornéliel lectured, as if Celebrimbor was one of her students.

“I am aware, for obvious reasons.” The most obvious being that Míriel was Celebrimbor’s great grandmother; Ornéliel’s frequent complaints about the matter landed in close second.

“Yes, this is all well established, but recently I think we’ve put together a very good case for severance outside of death. I have many examples from the Avari and the Laiquendi of their alternative modes of marriage and how they deal with similar disagreements in their cultures,” Curufin said as Ornéliel nodded along.

“I don’t think there are any examples among anyone outside of the Noldor of a ‘similar’ disagreement to the one between you and Amil.”

Ornéliel ignored him. “And while of course I’d considered bringing up the matter before, I think the case is much easier to argue with your father here.”

Celebrimbor glanced between his parents, who seemed to be getting along better than he could ever remember, pre- or post-separation. “That’s the only reason why you thought now would be a good time to attempt to bring a case before the Valar?”

“Yes. We’re simply acting upon long-held interests.” Curufin smiled disarmingly.

“I see. And you felt the need to inform me because…?”

“Because you’re our son.” The persecuted tone crept back into Ornéliel’s voice.

Celebrimbor stared them down, unimpressed by the show. It was sweet, in a way, that his parents wanted to create a legal precedent to help free him from something he had never indicated to either of them he wanted to escape. That did not make it less of a last-ditch attempt from both of them to weigh in on his decisions. He both resented their interference and thought they were unequipped to advise considering relative maturity, experience, and temperament. For a moment he fantasized about announcing he was running away, grabbing Annatar, and vanishing into some undiscovered reach of Aman. Maybe the problem lay with everyone else, and there was nothing wrong with the two of them. He quickly banished the thought; running away would solve nothing. They had spent plenty of time together, just the two of them, and it had been unspeakably awful.

“Unless you would like me to testify on your behalf about how unsuited you are for each other, I still do not see how this affects me. But, I wish you all the best.” He picked his knife up again. 

“You know, that may be necessary,” Curufin said. 

 “You might not care,” Ornéliel added. “Although, if we succeed in this, the decision will have far-reaching consequences. But apart from that, we also wanted to extend the invitation to travel with us to visit my family.”

Celebrimbor took a drink of coffee to avoid an immediate response before addressing his father. “I’m sorry, you’re planning to initiate a permanent separation, and then going to visit your ex-in-laws?”

“I like Ornéliel’s family!” Curufin protested. This was the first Celebrimbor had ever heard of it. “And I do think her father will be very helpful in helping us establish a consensus on some long-standing policy goals.”

“I really don’t think I’d be useful on this trip, but I do hope you have a good time.”

“Curuhin—” Ornéliel’s brow wrinkled in what might actually have been concern.

“Tyelpë—”

Celebrimbor drained his coffee, his breakfast half finished. “Now, I have many tasks today. I’m sure I’ll see you later.” He picked up his dishes and walked away from Curufin and Ornéliel’s worried faces, refusing to feel any remorse. 

~

Celebrimbor did not actually have that much to do. It seemed they were in an unexpected lull, likely the last calm before the crowds truly descended and the storm of preparations began at twice the level as before. He had a number of projects he would like to do, but they all seemed of equal importance and interest at the moment, and he didn’t feel like starting something only to have to abandon it in a few days.

He walked purposefully through the winding halls, hoping to look too busy for anyone he didn’t want to speak with to bother him. Really he was looking for someone who could lend a sympathetic ear to parental complaints. He rounded a corner too quickly and almost ran into Gandalf, one of the few people in Ondomar who would have no personal experience with troublesome parents.

“Celebrimbor! I just dropped by your room. You wouldn’t happen to know where Mairon is? He wasn’t there when I checked.”

“He’s in his own room most likely, or elsewhere; I don’t know.” Celebrimbor thought that the household had rather quickly adapted to the idea that he and Annatar were living together.

“You don’t know? Has something happened?”

“Nothing has happened. Why are you looking for him?” Celebrimbor asked.

“No reason in particular,” Gandalf said. He and Celebrimbor eyed each other with suspicion for a moment.

“In that case, I’ll check his room.” Gandalf smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You do that,” said Celebrimbor with an equally shallow smile. With a last glance at each other they hurried on.

Celebrimbor made his way outside after that encounter; it seemed despite the packed house that there was no one to talk to. Instead of going to the smithy, he slipped into Nerdanel’s studio. She wasn’t there, but he had not been expecting her to be. He grabbed a lump of clay and began to shape it on a wheel, directionless for now.

He was considering the wide shallow dish that had manifested when he realized someone else had entered the studio.

“It’s well shaped, Inyo. What will it hold?” Nerdanel cocked her head at the dish, giving it the full weight of her consideration.

“Anything, really. Food, jewelry, mementos of some kind.”

Nerdanel nodded slowly. “It seems the kind of thing that would be good to have in a set.” 

“You are right.” Celebrimbor grabbed the cutting wire. “I have no other pressing matters — a set it is.”

Nerdanel smiled. “I should probably find you some tasks to fill your time, but I find even directing others becomes tiresome.”

“That it does.” Celebrimbor did not miss the days when he had spent more time telling others what to do rather than doing anything himself. “You deserve to take a day for yourself, even amidst all this chaos.”

“I really do,” Nerdanel said. Celebrimbor glanced over at his grandmother. Her hair was more wild than usual, her clothes were mismatched, and she had a scarf in yet another pattern wrapped around her neck.

“Did you need anything from me?” he asked.

“Oh! I was just going to grab something.” Nerdanel glanced around. “And now I’ve completely forgotten what it was!” She laughed; it sounded forced.

Celebrimbor wiped a clay-covered hand off and then, before Nerdanel had a chance to react, tugged the end of the scarf. She grabbed for it, but not before he saw an impressive love bite on her neck. “You’re just resting today, hm?”

“You are an impertinent child.” Nerdanel rewound the scarf.

“Is Fëanáro here right now?”

“It matters not whether he is, as you're not seeing him either way.”

Celebrimbor rolled his eyes. “I will look very closely at this dish while you get whatever it was you were going to get.” 

“Thank you.” Nerdanel passed behind him and began to rummage around in a drawer.

“Do you think he’s changed?”

Nerdanel was quiet for a moment. She closed the drawer. “Yes, he has changed.” She walked back over to Celebrimbor and leaned against the wall by the wheel. “He’s still not a humble man. I don’t think it would be possible for him to remain who he is without some measure of pride. But he listens more, and seems more deliberate in his actions.”

“So, you think a certain amount of growth is possible, but there are certain core characteristics that cannot change?”

“You have always asked difficult questions, Tyelpë.” Nerdanel looked down at a streak of paint on the ground. “The light of madness that haunted me long after he left these shores is gone, so that is a change. And yet, he is not like the young man who wooed me, who, with all the world before him, wanted a family above all else. So yes, it seems like he has changed over time, yet I still recognize him as the same brusque young prince who I would tease by my father’s forge.”

“Do you think he is still capable of the madness and destruction he once wrought?”

Nerdanel raised her eyebrows. “Capable! If he fell into that mire once before, does that not mean that he is always capable of it? He will always be the man who could bring himself to wound me with words deeper than I thought possible and who took my sons with no thought for me. I do not foresee such a thing happening again, but he has proved himself capable of great harm.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “I feel I must point out that we are not in the same position. There’s a significant matter of degree and duration.”

“I know.” Celebrimbor drew his finger through the residue on the wheel. “He wants to resume our relationship.”

Nerdanel snorted. “And the stones sing to Aulë.” At Celebrimbor’s frown she shrugged. “He was very attached to you even before he remembered his past life. You seem to be the center of his world however you treat him.”

“I am so angry. Even if I say yes, what does that mean? To reunite before we’re torn apart again for eternity?”

“I do not think that future has been written yet.” There was a certain ring to Nerdanel’s words that reminded him that she had been granted foresight before. “You may have some say in his fate, whether or not you accept him back.”

“And if he should do something horrible again? If he is at his core evil and nothing will ever change that?”

Nerdanel’s brows pinched together. “I hardly want to consider that. I have lost so much, but now life feels secure. If it should come to pass that there is still no safety to be had here—” She trailed off, the unthinkable unvoiced.

“And he could hurt more than myself. And I have always understood that his choices are his own, and have never felt burdened overmuch by guilt over the actions of people I cannot control, but still, there are proverbs about making the same mistake twice for a reason. And yet—” Celebrimbor clenched his fists, wishing he had grabbed the clay for the second dish already. “And yet, I also fear him changing too much. What if who I loved was the monster, and now he’s gone?”

“Does he seem that different?”

“I don’t know, I feel like I am still learning who he is.”

Nerdanel tapped a finger against her face in thought. “If that is the case, then I counsel you not to rush. You may feel like your time is short, and maybe it is, but the problem may just need time for you to know where your heart lies. He didn’t demand an answer by today, did he? If he did, my counsel would change.”

“No, no, he demanded nothing. I told Annatar I’d speak with him today, but also said I might not have an answer yet.”

“Then that is good. You should talk with him further, and see if he has changed enough, or too much, and if he is someone you would like in your life again.” Nerdanel straightened and fiddled with her scarf. “Now I need to return to my room, or Fëanáro may escape from the window at an inopportune time.”

“You know, there’s no need for this to be a secret. I don’t think anyone here will think less of you for spending time with him.”

“I wish I shared your confidence.” Nerdanel’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “But really, sneaking around is so much fun. I feel truly young again, and, well, you don’t need to know the details, but I think it is helping recapture the hm, energy, we had as newlyweds.”

“Please, I’ve seen enough! But go, your secret is safe with me of course, unless I need to extort something from you.”

“Of course! Tyelpë, do not rush into anything — I will try to give you the time you need.” Nerdanel pressed a kiss to the top of his head as she left the studio.

~

Four dishes made and ready for the kiln, Celebrimbor decided he had put off the conversation with Annatar long enough, for all that he still didn’t know his own mind. He almost set off on another hunt, but decided instead to take a direct route.

The bond between him and Annatar flared to life, his stomach lurching when he realized Annatar had never closed it off on his end. 

Where are you? Celebrimbor asked. The image of the forges came back to him. I’ll be there in a moment.

It truly would be just a moment; there was only one building between Nerdanel’s studio and the forges. Too soon, he was slipping into the side door closest to his own workbench. Annatar stood hammering something around a cast, absorbed in the precise movements of turning the piece and tapping the metal with his hammer. With the benefit of proximity, Celebrimbor could see that he was making what looked like a ring, too large for fingers, but too small for anything but a child’s wrist.

“Has someone set you to making rings?”

Annatar set down his hammer and flipped the long tail of his hair over his shoulder. “I was just as surprised as you. Apparently Farro was desperate enough to foist this task onto me. Or perhaps he just thought that rings for napkins would not be a risky proposition, even considering my history.” Annatar half smiled as his eyes flickered over Celebrimbor’s face. They settled somewhere over his left eye.

“I thought for a moment you were making me jewelry.”

Annatar rubbed his own face over his right eye. “You know, not everything I do is for you.” The half-smile still lurked.

Celebrimbor tried not to reflexively smile back. “What’s wrong with my face?” He rubbed his forehead — a bit of clay crumbled off. “Did I get it?”

Annatar shook his head and began rubbing his right cheekbone.

Celebrimbor huffed. “Just take care of it, will you?”

It took only a moment for Celebrimbor to realize his mistake. Annatar grabbed a rag and dipped it into a bucket of water. Then he stepped in and slowly guided Celebrimbor’s face down. For a heartbeat he stared at him, their faces inches apart, before he started wiping the clay off with the rag. 

When Celebrimbor could speak again, he said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Annatar glanced up at him for a moment before returning to the mark on his cheek. “That is no surprise. You said yesterday you wouldn’t have an answer today.”

“Anna—” Celebrimbor tore his gaze from Annatar’s lips. “Wait, have you decided what your name should be?”

“Alaquen.” Annatar finally lowered the rag but didn’t step away.

“What?” Celebrimbor frowned and glanced around, no obvious reason for the non sequitur presenting itself.

“No, Alaquen, that’s my name.”

“You’re calling yourself ‘Nobody?’ I can’t call you 'Nobody.'”

Annatar narrowed his eyes. “Why not? It seems perfectly serviceable to me.”

“So, someone asks me who I ate dinner with last night. ‘Alaquen.’ ‘But I heard you talking to someone.’ ‘Yes, Alaquen.’” Celebrimbor finally stepped away as he spoke, the pantomimed conversation giving him the perfect reason to move. “My life already has too many parallels to a Telerin comedy without adding a friend named Alaquen.”

Annatar shook his head at him as moved back towards the workbench. “Then I suppose I’m back where I started, with hundreds of names and none of them fitting.”

“There’s always Mairon. It’s simple, it will be easy to adjust to as Olórin calls you that already, and some might say that your current—” He sought for the right word. “Your current repentance is admirable.”

“Some?” Annatar picked up the hammer and balanced it on the edge of his hand. “No, to call myself Mairon with my powerlessness and history of horrible missteps feels like mockery.” He flicked his hand, sending the hammer spinning up in the air before he caught it. He resumed shaping the napkin ring. “So you have not decided anything regarding us?”

“No, I have not.”

“Will you speak with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, but I know not if I will have an answer for you.”

“I will wait.” Annatar removed the ring from the cast and looked at it critically. “It’s quite plain. Do you think that’s what they want?”

“I’m sure that’s what Maedhros ordered, but yes, it’s too simple for the wedding.”

“What would Fingon like?”

Celebrimbor opened one of his drawers, surveying the options. “Something like a twisted or braided ring of copper and gold would be simple enough for my uncle, and yet would provide enough symbolic romance for Fingon.”

“Yes, that would be an appealing design. I’ll need to snip this and hammer it out though.” The movement of Annatar’s hands seemed more sure now that his memories had returned, but they lacked the uncanny speed and dexterity Celebrimbor remembered. Annatar noticed him looking and guessed where his thoughts had gone. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the skill I once had. I could have sworn I crafted in ways that were merely mechanical before, but either I somehow wove some level of skill into the Ring that is now lost, or more likely I used to use some measure of innate power that is now missing. The missing finger is not as much of a hindrance as I once would have thought, but it still means I must prefer my left for some tasks I was accustomed to using either hand for.”

“A pity,” Celebrimbor said. The sentiment was heartfelt; he mourned the destruction of Annatar’s skills as yet another thing the Ring had taken from him, no matter how just the depletion.

“Well, are you going to help with the gold strands?” Annatar looked at him expectantly, the piece of copper almost ready to be wound with the gold.

“Very well.” Celebrimbor began to gather the tools he needed. Even making something as simple as a napkin ring had a whiff of danger to it, but Nerdanel, in her wisdom, had advised him to get to know Annatar as he was now, and he knew of no better way.

~

There were some people who were loud even when they sat in silence. Celebrimbor took a sip of his brandy, taking the opportunity to eye Merillë as he did so. She shifted and turned the page, loudly. Her eyes darted to the side and caught him looking at her.

“Hello, Merillë. Was there something you wanted to ask me?” Celebrimbor closed his book; he had been looking forward to reading all afternoon, but he deserved the interruption for foolishly choosing one of the common rooms instead of his private quarters.

“I just noticed your book; it seems to be written in a language completely alien to me. I have studied many varieties of Westron, Adûnaic, Sindarin, and even Taliska, so it is quite strange that I recognize nothing.” Merillë twisted her head to get a look at the cover.

“It’s Khuzdul. I thought I would brush up on it before Gimli arrived.”

“I can’t believe Nerdanel even has books in Khuzdul!”

“She doesn’t; my father brought this with him for me.” Celebrimbor turned the book so Merillë could better study the cover.

Merillë sighed heavily, as she had been doing ever since she sat down next to Celebrimbor. “All the things I can never learn. Unless—”

“Absolutely not.”

“I mean, there’s only one dwarf here, and he’s not going to be in Valinor forever.”

“That would be an ill way to treat an exclusive gift that was jealousy guarded and rarely given.” Celebrimbor thought Gimli had enough to deal with as the only one of his kind in Aman, although most of the time he seemed pleased at the attention.

“I thought Fëanáro knew Khuzdul. Knows Khuzdul.”

Celebrimbor snorted. “No. I know not which overzealous chronicler started that rumor, but he never even met one of the Khazad.”

“Maybe, if I befriend Gimli—”

“Merillë, you are quite charming, but I very much doubt he will teach you the secret language of his people during his twilight years that I’m sure he wishes to spend with his partner. Besides, I think I deserve time with Gimli. I have had a very difficult few months.” Celebrimbor hoped he wasn’t whining.

“You’ll have to fight Atya for that privilege.” 

“Oh, I already spoke to him, and my own father, and they agree I’m allowed to corner Gimli every other evening once he’s here. Well not corner—”

“No, I’m sure you mean corner.” Merillë looked very amused.

Celebrimbor couldn’t quite push down a smile in return. “I try not to be too much of a bother.” A flash of gold caught his eye as Annatar walked in with Sam. Lodrien sat at a low table at the other end of the room with a friend, and motioned them over with the cards in her hand.

“Something’s different about him,” Celebrimbor said.

“Who? Oh, him.” Merillë frowned as she watched Annatar. “I don’t see anything different.”

“Are those new clothes?” Celebrimbor could have sworn that all of Annatar’s clothing was ill-fitting, and definitely second hand. His current clothing now fit perfectly, emphasizing the elegant lines of his body, and had embroidery down the sleeve Celebrimbor had never noticed previously.

“Oh, no. He’s just been tailoring the clothes he was given in between all the orders Sildamo, he, and I have been filling. We are quite busy, because some people left their wedding outfits until the last minute—”

“That was entirely his idea.”

“And he wasn’t wrong that you had nothing suitable.” Merillë gave him a pointed look. “Anyway, I suggested he take in his own clothes a bit while he was at it.”

“You know, the problem is not that I don’t find him attractive,” Celebrimbor said.

“Problem, who was talking about problems?” Hallowed portraits of Varda’s handmaidens looked less innocent than Merillë did in the present moment.

“The problem is that he tortured and killed me, and tried to conquer the world on multiple occasions.”

“Well—”

“It was not an isolated incident of world conquering,” Celebrimbor pointed out.

“I know! I know!” Merillë threw up her hands. “I wasn’t even thinking about trying to help him get you back. Well, mostly I wasn’t. I just think people are their best when they look their best.”

“I have not found that to be the case.”

“He’s surprisingly good at sewing.”

Celebrimbor watched Annatar playing cards with his friends. A knot of longing grew in his chest at the normalcy of the scene. Annatar pulled the trick towards himself, and threw down his remaining cards.

“He’s cheating.”

Merillë glanced over. “You can tell from here?”

“Yes. I’m sure if you checked the deck you would find another prince of the same kind there.”

“Oh.” Merillë gnawed her lip. “That seems like a bad sign, all things considered.”

“Or is it a good one? Cheating at cards is a fairly benign way to feel superior to others, especially with no money on the table, and in this game he is also helping Sam win.”

“I’m not sure.”

Celebrimbor raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh now you’re not sure? You have no idea of the nature of the creature you’ve befriended? I’m not sure if it’s possible for him not to bite in some way. You would not blame a snake for striking you — its venom is how it defends itself, and to expect anything else would be folly.”

Merillë looked completely at sea. “If you know it may bite though, you can hold the snake near the head, or maybe wear gloves?” She tugged at her necklace, a finely wrought gold chain strung with a pendant displaying the twined snakes of her father’s house.

Celebrimbor threaded a hand through his hair, still watching the card game. Annatar had just lost the round, entirely on purpose. “You're right. I am prepared. I know what to look for. But you still wouldn’t lay with the snake.”

“I think the metaphor is falling apart.”

Celebrimbor glanced at Merille, his mind drawn back to the common room. “Hm? Oh, yes. A bit. Anyway, I would tell you not to meddle, but I’m not sure it matters much. Knowing this household, there’s probably just as many people trying to meddle in the opposite direction.” Celebrimbor glanced darkly around at the denizens of Ondomar as they relaxed for the evening. “You wouldn’t happen to know what Olórin is up to?”

“Why do you think he’s up to something?”

“He’s always up to something.”

“Maybe the problem is you.” Merillë’s hand flew to her mouth the moment the words escaped.

“Oh really?” Celebrimbor could tell from the way Merillë shifted back that his smile had an unhinged cast.

“I just meant maybe it’s time for you to meddle!” Merillë spoke in a rush. 

“Yes, more meddling is exactly what we need right before the rush of guests come, and just as both grooms are completely at odds over the upcoming ceremony.”

“They're completely at odds?”

“You don’t deserve gossip tonight.” Celebrimbor glared at her.

Merillë sighed. “Fine. But yes. If you were playing cards with a cheater, would you play fair?”

“I would decline to play.”

“But wouldn’t it be much more fun to beat him at his own game?”

Celebrimbor set his book aside. He would get no farther with his Khuzdul tonight. “Are you suggesting I get some skin-tight clothes myself?”

“His clothes are not skin tight! They fit well, but yes, whatever your version of upgrading your wardrobe is. Changing your hair—”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Your hair is lovely! That was just an example,” Merillë said.

“Are you suggesting I dye it like yours?”

“No, it’s so much more difficult with black hair. As I said, it was only an example!”

“The problem is also not a lack of attraction on his part from what I can tell.” Celebrimbor tried to imagine what Annatar’s reaction would be to conspicuous updates in wardrobe. He had never noticed his regard change in accordance to the level of finery he wore. He considered a change in hairstyle, either dying it or cutting it. That would probably grab his attention, but not in a good way. Annatar had loved to run his fingers through his hair, to braid and comb it. (Annatar had also found it a marvelous handle during lovemaking, or the precursor to such activities.)

“Pay my advice no mind!” Merillë interrupted his thoughts, which again were veering in a dangerous direction. “I can tell you’re overthinking it.”

Celebrimbor cleared his throat and waved his hand in the air vaguely. “Fashion and the like used to be fun, but well, it seems like it belongs in a different age for me.”

“It’s just a suggestion. I will try not to be a meddler.”

“You can’t help it. It’s your nature,” Celebrimbor said with a smile. He glanced back over at the game of cards. “You should try to get in a round — see if you can beat him.”

~

“Are you ready to admit that you have failed, Celebrimbor?” Annatar asked.

“Failed? I think not. This was merely the first of many experiments.” Celebrimbor walked to the windows and opened them wider, although he kept the sheer curtains drawn. It was an abominably sticky day. Though he was normally glad to live outside the bubble of curated perfection that enclosed Valimar and the other central cities of Valinor — mild day after mild day quickly wore on him — it would be nice if the late summer heat did not hit the same day that half the furnishings and equipment in Ondomar had to be moved. “Perhaps you would like to admit instead that asking me for epessë ideas was a mistake.”

“I think I’m hardly the one to admit failure when I introduced myself as ‘Titsë’ to no fewer than four people today, and did not drop anything due to laughing, unlike some people in this room,” Annatar said. They were alone together in Celebrimbor’s room, so the target of criticism was obvious. 

“So kitty-cat will not work. Fine. I’m sure I can think of something more suitable.” Celebrimbor began unlacing his tunic. “How about—” He pulled the tunic over his head. “Úmiuon.”

“ Not-a-cat ? Really, Brim.” Annatar pursed his lips, but his eyes drifted lower. Celebrimbor became acutely aware that he had started undressing as if they were at a much earlier point in their relationship, in another place, in different bodies. “I suppose I can’t complain too much. Úmiuon is better than Úvanimo, which I would well deserve.”

“So it’s decided. I’ll have the roll updated so that when you show up to the wedding in a few days, no one will be perplexed when you announce that ‘Úmiuon’ is here.”

“I’m sure Tirien will not appreciate needing to change my place setting again if Úmiuon does not stick.”

“Oh, it will stick.” Celebrimbor toyed with the ties on his undergarments. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around, or get out, if you prefer.”

Annatar leaned against the back of the couch, his smile transforming into a smirk.

“I’ve seen you naked before you know.”

“I know that very well; you’ve seen me without most of my skin, come to think of it. Nevertheless, turn around.”

For a moment, Celebrimbor thought Annatar wasn’t going to leave. Just as he reached to put his tunic back on, despite dreading the damp fabric against his skin, Annatar slowly turned, and stood facing the door.

Celebrimbor stripped the rest of the way, his attention fixed on Annatar the entire time. Warmth churned within him, despite the cool breeze against his skin. He briefly entertained the idea of pressing himself against Annatar’s back, sweeping aside the tied-back hair, still uncharacteristically austere, and tasting the salty-sweetness of the skin at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m going to bathe,” he said instead.

“And should I just stand here?” Annatar asked.

“No, you can come in, only do not turn around.”

“Stumbling back—”

“When you hear the water running, you can come to the door. But face away from the chamber.” Celebrimbor didn’t wait for a response from Annatar before turning and walking to his bathing chambers.

He checked that he had everything he wanted before opening the sluice. He wound his hair into a knot on the top of his head, neither desiring nor needing to go through the process of washing it today. 

Annatar appeared in the doorway, back turned as instructed.

“Elrond and Celebrían will recognize me; has anyone given thought to that detail?”

Celebrimbor leaned against the edge of the round wooden tub. “More than they will recognize you, but yes, everyone who knew you in Ost-in-Edhil has been warned, and all who might recognize you by other means know as well.”

“And still, no bolt from Manwë has struck me down, nor has Tulkas come to carry me away in chains.”

“My family is loud, but we can also be discreet. Just ask Turgon.” The tub was over half-way filled. Celebrimbor shut the tap and stepped in. “You can turn around now.”

Celebrimbor sank to his knees just as Annatar turned around. The tepid water should have cooled him down, but he still burned.

He picked up a cloth and began to clean himself. Annatar devoured every move, and Celebrimbor slowed his hands to feed the flames. He had never forgotten being the subject of such immense, consuming focus. He knew it should frighten him, or at the very least make him feel uneasy, but he knew his heart didn’t beat faster from fear. He ran the cloth first over his face, then over his back and chest, then under his arms, before reaching below the surface of the water. 

You always knew you were playing with fire , he admonished himself, as he briefly considered the path of wisdom and sending Annatar away. He finished cleaning himself and leaned forward against the edge of the tub, still looking at Annatar, who worried his lip between his teeth in a gesture of surprising carnality.

Celebrimbor had been hard from the moment he’d taken his clothes off; now, stroking himself under the surface of the water, he had to consciously restrain his movements to prevent himself from coming undone immediately. He let out an unfeigned gasp, gripping the edge of the tub with his other hand.

Annatar’s hungry gaze never left his body; he knew exactly what Celebrimbor was doing. His lips parted slightly, but his breath hadn’t quickened; if anything, his chest had stilled, the superfluous act of breathing forgotten. 

Celebrimbor closed his eyes as he came, still acutely aware of the golden eyes burning on his skin, as if the wooden wall of the tub were transparent. He blinked, the world swimming into view. Annatar still stared. 

“Turn around.” To his surprise, his voice sounded steady.

For a moment, he thought Annatar would disobey; he seemed to tilt toward him, ready to lunge. But he only swallowed, and slowly turned his back to the bathing chamber. 

Celebrimbor opened the drain and stood. Every drop of water carved a path down his skin and the breeze from the open windows prickled like pins. After drying himself, he wrapped a towel around his waist. As he walked past Annatar, he could not resist dragging his fingers down his arm. 

He sat down in front of the mirror and unbound his hair, getting ready to brush and replait it. In the mirror, the reflection of Annatar appeared behind him; he set his hand on Celebrimbor’s shoulder.

“I take it you have decided nothing?”

“Yes, I have not decided.” Celebrimbor met his eyes in the mirror.

“Then, I had better leave you.” Annatar’s thumb slid up the back of Celebrimbor neck before leaving his room with a last lingering look.

Celebrimbor set his hands on the table and pressed down until his heartbeat returned to normal. His own overpowering hunger did not retreat. More than his body had been awakened; he remembered the insatiable way he used to rip through any question he did not immediately know the answer to, the way any pronouncement that he could not do something necessitated an endeavor to break that assumption. He had thought his faded curiosity related to aging, he had seen the tendency to look backwards instead of forwards increase among many of the Eldar, but now he had doubts.

Dreams he had hardly allowed himself to consider danced through his mind. You don’t need him . That was true. He had access to the oldest and wisest of all his kind. He could even speak to his grandfather, Valar knew most of the family would be overjoyed if he could focus Fëanor in a beneficial direction. But I want him. The knowledge that he could reopen the most fulfilling point of his life was too tantalizing to leave undisturbed. But if he could remember the fire of inspiration and the passion they had shared, he could also remember the horror of destruction and when all he could feel at the sight of Sauron's face was fear.