What Brings Us Together by Aipilosse

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By Any Other Name

Celebrimbor (Brim) - Tyelperinquar (Tyelpë)
Aredhel - Írissë
Gandalf - Olórin
Galadriel - Artanis
Sauron - Gorthaur, Annatar, but really he'd prefer if you called him Miaulë.

Ondomar - Nerdanel's halls, and her guild's headquarters
Árëmar - Aredhel's halls where she lives with Fingon and her son, a few miles south of Ondomar

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The window was unlatched and cracked like it always was for him. Miaulë quietly slipped through the window. Climbing up a floor and several rooms over had been much more awkward in this bipedal form, but he was happy to find this body was stronger than it looked and still graceful, although less so than the cat-form. 

Celebrimbor wasn’t at his desk, which was still covered with the sprawling model that had been there for the past few days. Instead he was lying down by the fire, creating yet another spot that was turning into piles of notes and books. 

Miaulë approached quietly; Celebrimbor appeared to be napping, and he didn’t want to disturb him. He knew he hadn’t slept much last night, and his question could wait. He sat down by the fire before deciding to curl up against Celebrimbor’s back. Miaulë breathed the familiar scent of his hair deep into his lungs. His sense of smell was definitely weaker, and his sense of hearing was different, as if it were attuned to a different register then it had been before. The range of color though was wonderful, and he marveled at the silvery undertone in Celebrimbor’s dark hair he had never seen before. His sense of touch was different as well without whiskers and fur. He thought he liked touching more with hands instead of paws. He ran a hand down Celebrimbor’s side and left it on his hip.

Celebrimbor shifted onto his back with his eyes still closed. He smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Miaulë felt relieved; he knew Celebrimbor would react well. “Aren’t you surprised?”

“Not really. Why would I be?”

“You should open your eyes,” he batted at him, frowning when he realized the gesture wasn’t quite the same with hands. 

“My eyes are open.”

“No, they’re not. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

Celebrimbor slowly blinked his eyes open; it seemed to take a lot of effort. “What did you want to show me?” He didn’t look surprised to see Miaulë in a different form, nor to hear him speak.

“Notice anything different?” Miaulë asked. 

Celebrimbor sat up, beginning to look confused. He ran his hands over his face. “This feels very real.”

Celebrimbor’s lack of reaction was annoying. “It’s me, Miaulë, your cat.”

Celebrimbor squinted at him, picked up one of his notes, deliberately looked away, and then read the note again. He looked back at Miaulë, the color draining from his face.

“This doesn’t feel like a dream.”

“Because it’s not. I’ve been transformed!” He beamed at Celebrimbor.

Celebrimbor stared at him unblinking, and then shot back like he’d been stung. He lurched to his feet before running out of the room faster than Miaulë had ever seen him move before, slamming the door behind him.

For the second time that day, Miaulë found himself abandoned in a room with the distinct feeling that people were not happy to see him. This one hurt much more than Galadriel’s exit, even without the spell. Miaulë looked around the room and tried to decide what to do.

~

Celebrimbor slammed the door of his room behind him and slumped against the wall in the hallway outside. Part of him wanted to run until he couldn’t run any farther, but he also didn’t want to take his eyes off the door.

It was him. It was definitely him. His teacher, partner, best friend, lover, husband, torturer, murderer, his worst nightmare, who had killed all his friends and destroyed everything he loved in Middle-earth, was in his room and had introduced himself as his cat. The thought that this was a dream flitted through his mind again, but he quickly dismissed it. The words had stayed the same when he read them, all of his senses were returning normal feedback, and he’d been able to run from the room and slam the door: all signs pointed to this being the waking world.

“Tyelpë, how are you doing?” Celebrimbor dimly registered someone sliding down the wall to sit next to him. He forced himself to focus on Maglor’s weathered face.

“Things are happening,” was all he could manage.

Maglor nodded sagely. “Things are always happening. Anyway, what are you working on now? Maybe I can be of assistance?”

Normally Celebrimbor would be happy to include Maglor in anything he was doing; he thought that companionship was the best way to undo the devastation caused by years of isolation and grief. Now though, he felt incapable of explaining to him that he was in no state to make casual conversation.

Maglor leaned towards him. “You look pale. What did you mean, ‘things are happening’?”

Celebrimbor felt momentarily relieved that Maglor was aware enough to pick up on physical signs of distress. “In my room.” He stopped, hardly knowing how to describe the situation.

“Is there something in your room?” Maglor asked.

“Yes, my cat—”

“Your cat’s in your room? That’s not very strange, is it?”

Two people hurried by them, then stopped suddenly. 

“Celebrimbor, what are you doing in the hall?” asked Galadriel.

Celebrimbor looked up, suddenly suspicious. Galadriel’s tone was uncharacteristically neutral and devoid of curiosity. “There’s something in my room. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this?”

“About what?” She widened her eyes.

Gandalf pressed his ear against the door. “I don’t hear anything.” He closed his eyes, then opened them suddenly. “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

“Did you think I was dissembling?” Galadriel asked.

“What in the name of Manwë, Varda, and all that is holy did you do?” Celebrimbor’s patience was gone.

Galadriel looked genuinely upset. “The lens—”

“I told you it was a bad idea!” Some distant part of Celebrimbor’s mind realized that it felt good to finally be the one who could say ‘I told you so.’

“Maiulë was already Sauron — I didn’t change that.”

“Sauron, that name sounds very familiar.” Maglor gathered his feet under him and looked between Galadriel and Gandalf. 

“What’s going on?” Nerdanel and Finrod came hurrying down the hallway.

Galadriel addressed Nerdanel. “Apparently my spell did not hold, and he sought out Tyelperinquar.”

Nerdanel covered her mouth with her hand. “Valar, no. Tyelpë, are you well?”

Celebrimbor looked up at the concerned faces peering down at him. “I’m fine.” 

“Is everything alright?” a voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

“You can stop watching the door, Frodo,” Finrod replied. “He seems to have escaped through the window.”

Frodo hurried up the stairs and joined the crowd. “What are we doing?”

“Trying to decide what to do with the unexpected reemergence of Sauron,” Gandalf said.

“Is he in there?” Frodo asked, looking at the door.

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t we go in the room and make sure? He left out the window before — seems to me like he might do that again.”

“Excellent point! I’m going to open the door.” Gandalf placed a hand on the door knob. There was a friendly ‘woof’ from the end of the hall, and a tall, sleek dog appeared, followed by Írissë, Fingon, and Maedhros.

“Here’s where everyone is! I thought I’d bring over Ñaulë myself now that the storm’s slowed down,” Írissë said with a wave. They all appeared quite damp, and the dog shook herself, spraying everyone with more rain water.

“And we came along to talk about the chairs Lodrien is making. I think we’ll need more,” Maedhros said.

“Speak for yourself! I came because I heard Finrod was visiting. Hello Finrod,” Fingon waved, and then frowned at the assembled elves. “What is everyone doing in the hallway?”

“I was just about to open the door,” Gandalf said.

“And this requires seven people?” Maedhros asked. 

“No it does not. In fact, I think everyone but myself, Olórin, and Artanis should exit the hallway,” Nerdanel said with authority.

Celebrimbor slowly rose. “I’m not leaving.”

“Can someone tell me what is going on?” Maedhros asked. Celebrimbor hadn’t heard him use that tone since his reincarnation. It also seemed to have an effect on Maglor who straightened and put his hands behind his back.

“My cat—”

“Now you admit he is your cat!” Nerdanel turned on him. “Just a few days ago when I complained that he scratched me, you said he belonged to no one but himself and that he wouldn’t scratch if I didn’t antagonize him!’” She pushed back a sleeve to show a scratched arm.

“Yes, well now I think we can lay the blame on Miaulë’s presence at my feet once and for all.”

“Are you sure it’s not mine?” Frodo said quietly.

“No Frodo. I’ve had Miaulë for years, long before you started staying with us.” Celebrimbor scrubbed his hands over his face. “No, this is definitely my fault. Again.”

“What? What is going on?” Írissë put her hands on her hips. “Someone spit it out.”

“Sauron, our ancient enemy whom we thought defeated utterly, is in that room,” Gandalf said. “And now, I am opening the door!”

Gandalf opened the door and entered the room. There was a moment of silence. 

“Only Olórin and I are going in,” Nerdanel told the crowd.

“It’s my bedroom,” Celebrimbor grumbled.

“And it’s my home of which I am the mistress,” Nerdanel replied with a quelling look before following Gandalf into the room

Celebrimbor glanced at the faces surrounding him. Finrod looked remarkably calm for a man whose murderer was sitting in the next room. His eyes were alert however, and there was a tension in his hands that belied the calm exterior. Galadriel, on the other hand, looked every inch like someone who was unexpectedly facing an ancient foe. Her eyes blazed with anger, and she was clearly just waiting for Nerdanel to go a few steps further into the room before following. 

Frodo stood off to the side, his eyes wide, wringing his hands. He didn’t look particularly afraid though, and he peered through the doorway with curiosity. Celebrimbor glanced at Maglor; his uncle was looking back at him with an astonished expression. Írissë and Ñaulë were approaching with almost identical looks of fascination. Ñaulë’s tag was wagging slightly; she was glad to be included in such exciting happenings. Celebrimbor suspected that if Írissë had a tail, it would be wagging slightly too.

Fingon and Maedhros were still further down the hallway, holding what looked like an urgent conversation in low voices. Maedhros started forward, and Fingon pulled him back with a sharp word. Then Fingon stepped towards them, only for Maedhros to grab his hand and pull him back. Celebrimbor met Fingon’s eyes and shook his head slightly. Fingon glared back in a way that made it clear he was also going to walk into that room shortly as well.

Celebrimbor leaned against the doorway as Galadriel and Finrod pushed past him.

“I was wondering when you’d come inside.” The voice was so familiar. A thousand memories that he thought were dead and buried another lifetime ago rose up; he clutched the door frame in a desperate attempt to stay standing. 

“And we’ve been wondering a great many things,” said Gandalf. 

“What do you call yourself?” Nerdanel interjected.

“As I said before, it’s me, Miaulë, the cat.” Somehow though, the voice was different; the tone was changed. If he had to describe it, the voice was lighter, simpler. Or maybe it was only that the being who had called himself Annatar would never have simply said ‘It’s me, Annatar,’ in the face of four angry strangers. There would have been undercurrents of warning and some dissembling as he tried to discover what they wanted from him before disclosing his identity. Annatar was capable of excellent explanations, but not about himself.

Celebrimbor took a deep breath and pivoted around the door frame so that he was in his bedroom, his back against the far wall. Annatar, no, Sauron, was standing at his desk, still completely naked, smiling winningly at Gandalf and Nerdanel. A little bit behind them stood Finrod and Galadriel, two watchful golden figures, ready to rain down destruction at the first sign of aggression.

Sauron’s eyes lit up when he noticed Celebrimbor. It felt like being stabbed in the heart. “Celebrimbor, come here! I have something to show you.”

“Tyelperinquar, get out of the room,” Nerdanel hissed. 

It would have been hard for Celebrimbor to leave now even if he wanted to; Írissë, Ñaulë, and Maglor were crowded into the doorway, Frodo peering between their legs, Fingon looking over their shoulders, and Maedhros looming over their heads. 

Gandalf cleared his throat. “Miaulë then, you may be surprised to know that many in this household have known you by different names.”

Sauron frowned at him. “I don’t think so. Ambarussa named me Miaulë, and I had no name before that.”

“Aha! Yes, before you came here, what were you doing?” Gandalf leaned forward eagerly.

Sauron looked off into the distance. “I was alone and lost in the woods.”

“And before that?”

“I remember nothing,” Sauron looked back down at the model on the desk. He suddenly looked back up at Gandalf. “No, wait, I was somewhere. It was very bright.” He shook his head. “No, it was dark. And loud. Or was it so quiet it felt loud? It’s very confused.” He pushed his hair back several times in a row.

“And before that?” Gandalf was speaking very quietly now.

Sauron closed his eyes. He opened them slowly; they were wide and gold, and completely guileless. “There was nothing before that place.”

Gandalf let out a deep sigh. Nerdanel raised her eyebrows at him. 

“I hope you are not satisfied with that explanation. I have many more questions.” The last part she addressed to Sauron.

“He is lying,” Galadriel said. “He has been named The Deceiver by many, and I hope that this time I will spend less effort convincing everyone of that fact!”

“I told you not to come in,” was all Nerdanel said in response. She turned to Sauron. “How did you find this house?”

“I didn’t,” Sauron said with a shrug. “Pityo found me, as you know.”

“I don’t believe you came here by accident.” Nerdanel crossed her arms. “So tell me, if you came here only because of Pityo, why do you spend so much time with Tyelperinquar?”

Sauron looked at her like she had asked a very stupid question. “Because I’m his cat.”

“What does that mean?” asked Finrod.

“You are also not supposed to be in here,” Nerdanel said. “Will no one obey me in my own house?”

“Sorry, my lady, but I cannot let Gorthaur remain here unquestioned by myself.” Finrod looked apologetic but made no move to leave the room. “We have a bit of a history you might say.”

“I know that very well, that’s why I asked you not to enter!”

“If you were looking for people without a history with Miaulë here, you should not have asked me to come with you,” said Gandalf with a small smile.

Sauron looked very confused. Celebrimbor walked towards him.

“Surely we can all agree that Tyelpë at least should not be here!” Nerdanel grabbed his arm as he walked past. He shook her off. 

“What was it you wanted to show me?” he asked Sauron. 

Sauron smiled at him with an infectious smile that Celebrimbor struggled not to return. 

“I tried to show you before, when I was fully cat, but it was so hard without fingers and a voice. Look!” He gestured at Celebrimbor’s star model. Celebrimbor looked at the pieces that had been moved. 

“What’s the significance of the red yarn you tied on all these pieces? And the other colors?”

“They are different multipliers!”

“Of what?”

“A moment.” Sauron hunted for a scrap of paper. Paper obtained, he painstakingly wrote down several numbers in an alternate notation next to a legend. He was clearly finding the pen more difficult to handle than he expected.   “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard you say the notation out loud. I only read it in some of your notes.”

“You’ve been reading my notes?” Celebrimbor said faintly.

“Of course. What do you think I was doing in your lap?”

“Napping? As cats do?”

“Oh, well, that too, but I found that I needed less sleep than most of the true cats in the household.”

“So you knew you were not a cat,” Nerdanel said, stepping up the desk herself, brows still knit in anger.

“In a way. There are many animals here and at the neighboring home who are more than most of their kind. Like Ñaulë here!” Ñaulë took that as her cue to come fully into the room, tail wagging. She nudged Sauron’s hand. “You were right, my friend,” he told the dog. “Fingers are one of the best parts about the two-feet form.”

He looked around at everyone. “I understand the surprise, I was surprised myself to have this form. But—” He paused for a moment, looking around with concern at the mix of anger, confusion, and fear he saw. “I think you are all angry at me, and I don’t know why.”

Something clicked for Celebrimbor.

“Valar. The stars that don’t move are further away. Much further away. But that makes no sense. How could they be of varying distances from us in one place, but not in another?” He looked at Sauron. “How did you figure it out?”

Sauron looked ridiculously pleased with himself. It was such a familiar look, Celebrimbor didn’t know whether to start forwards or backwards.

“I only had to—”

“Brim, please, could you at least pretend that you find this as alarming as the rest of us,” Galadriel interrupted, desperation and anger warring in her voice. 

“Miaulë, I regret to inform you that you are not a cat.” Gandalf cut in. “You are in fact an ancient being formed before the creation of Arda, like myself.”

“What?” The confusion was back on Sauron’s face. Celebrimbor was sure it was genuine. “Then why don’t I remember more than a few years back?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell us that.”

Sauron shook his head. “No, there was the original, unpleasant place. Then I traveled very far as a cat. Then I was here.” He searched Gandalf’s face. “How do you know I’m this other kind of being? Can you sense something I can’t?”

“No, in fact even now I can hardly detect any power in you. But the pattern of your spirit is the same as when I knew you before.”

“You also look the same as when I knew you for a time,” said Galadriel. “You had that form for many years.” She paused for a moment startled by a thought. “I am surprised though. I thought Eru forbade him from taking a fair form again?”

“Fair form?” repeated Sauron.

“How do we even know that?” asked Finrod. “Do you know, Olórin?”

“I was told that by Manwë. I assume he was granted that knowledge directly from Eru.” Gandalf shrugged.

“Tyelpë,” Sauron addressed him in a low voice as Nerdanel, Gandalf, and Galadriel continued to argue. “What’s going on? What has Eru to do with me? Do you think I’m, I’m, whatever Olórin is?”

Celebrimbor threaded his hand in his hair, trying to think how he could explain things. “A Maia. That’s what you and Olórin are. And yes, I know you are the same being because I also knew you when you had this same form.”

“Ah!” Sauron looked relieved. “So, you know why everyone is angry at me?” The argument had trailed off, and now everyone was staring at them both.

“Yes,” said Celebrimbor.

“Please tell me. I thought this would be a wonderful surprise, but it seems to be going wrong,” Sauron looked at everyone with helpless frustration.

Celebrimbor felt an unseen nudge and reluctantly opened his mind to Galadriel. Remember, he is a deceiver , she admonished. He glared at her. He knew she was only trying to protect him, but if he had been tired of her knowing what was best for him in the Second Age, he was certainly tired of it in the Fourth. 

“Everyone is angry because you allied yourself with our greatest foe many ages ago. Then you lied to many people, including me, and continued the same great evil that you had been a part of before. You wrought devastation and destruction for ages.”

Sauron stared at him with disbelief. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

“I’m very certain I am not,” Celebrimbor replied.

“How did we know each other then? Were we somehow friends?”

Celebrimbor grimaced. This was not a conversation he wanted an audience for. On the other hand, neither was this a conversation that he wanted to have alone with Sauron.

“Yes, we were friends.”

“I knew it! Maybe that’s why I’m your cat.” Sauron smiled at him hopefully.

“You keep saying that, but you know you are not a cat now, right?” Finrod interrupted.

“Yes, you’re correct, that’s imprecise. Probably a better term would be familiar, but it’s a concept I’ve only heard mentioned a few times,” Sauron responded.

“Familiar.” Celebrimbor’s braid, which had already been loose before, was becoming a mess.

“So we were friends, and I lied to you, and that is why you were so disturbed to see me earlier,” said Sauron, nodding to himself.

Nerdanel cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at Celebrimbor. He sighed.

“You did a bit more than lie,” he said. 

“A bit!” exclaimed Fingon from the doorway.

“Would someone else like to tell the story?” He asked the room at large.

“No, please continue if you can,” said Gandalf quietly. “I think he needs to hear it from you Tyelperinquar.”

Celebrimbor tried to pick up the thread again. “Well, you wronged many people in this room, and are directly responsible for the death of two of us.”

“Really? Who?” Sauron had stepped closer to him and was now looking at the room with wide eyes.

“Findaráto for one.” Finrod actually waved. 

“Oh. I’m very sorry, I suppose.” Celebrimbor was reminded that apologies for forgotten murders were less than satisfying, as they had found out with Maglor. “Did I kill someone else?” Sauron asked in a worried tone.

“Yes, many other people.” There was no way around it. “Including me.”

To his surprise Sauron laughed. “I was so worried!” The whole room tensed in response to his reaction. He looked around. “I’m sure you have the wrong person! I would never hurt Tyelperinquar.” He looked at Celebrimbor fondly.

The silence was deafening. Finally Írissë said, “Are you all very sure it’s him?”

“Yes,” Celebrimbor bit out. He stared at the star model, wishing that he were anywhere but here.

“He looks, sounds, and feels exactly as I remember.” Galadriel was frowning. “I don’t see how the similarity could be so strong if it’s not him. Or some echo of him, somehow.” She trailed off.

“Give me your hand, Annatar,” Celebrimbor ordered.

“Annatar?” he said with a raised eyebrow as he placed his hand in Celebrimbor’s.

“I cannot call you Miaulë. If you regain your memories, you’ll understand.” 

Celebrimbor shut his eyes, and tried to access the bond he knew lay between them. He had never tried to open it intentionally before, and had slammed shut all access to it shortly after Sauron and he had bonded. He hesitated to call it a marriage; whether the Maiar could marry the Children of Ilúvatar was a matter for the philosophers. To him the word ‘marriage’ seemed to imply a blessing from Eru that he was sure neither of them had asked for, but still, he knew that a spiritual connection lay between them.

It flickered to life effortlessly. Celebrimbor almost dropped Sauron’s hand in surprise. He had maintained a guard against this for so long, despite the oceans that lay between, the sundered continents, and the walls of the Valar, but it seemed like disuse mattered little. 

He felt Sauron’s grip on his own hand tighten. Now there was another part in his mind that was him, yet not him, and he felt an awareness that was slightly beyond his own in the echo of the bond. The connection opened, he purposefully brought up a memory of one of the many days they had spent working together. He didn’t know why this one in particular came so readily; they’d been working on something inconsequential — some measuring tool they said would save time, but was really just a chance to put one of Celebrimbor’s theories to the test. The afternoon sunlight dancing in through the southwest windows was achingly familiar. The voices in the background of the memory were accented in a way that sounded like home. Once in a long while, Celebrimbor would hear someone shout out with that same accent in Ondomar, old modes of speech summoned up through passion, and Celebrimbor would have to look at the ceiling until the tears passed. It was a memory strong enough that he didn’t think it could be manufactured, and he thought that Sauron would sense its reality. 

He heard Sauron breath in sharply. He blinked his eyes open. Sauron was staring at him, eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. He stepped towards him, their faces now perilously close together. 

“What was that? How could you do that?” As he spoke, Sauron grabbed Celebrimbor’s other hand. 

If I pulled him towards me, he would fit perfectly in my arms , Celebrimbor though distantly. Sauron stepped even closer, and he realized that the bond was still open between him, and his train of thought was still obvious to Sauron. Celebrimbor shut his mind and dropped Sauron’s hands. He turned away from Sauron’s bereft expression and gestured to the room with a smile he hoped didn’t look too manic.

“He is, without a doubt, Sauron.”

Frodo, now followed by Sam, pushed his way into the room. “I’m sorry, I thought we established that already. Did I miss something?” Frodo asked.

“No, Frodo. You missed nothing.” Celebrimbor felt very tired. It would be nice to lie down, if his bedroom wasn’t full of family, friends, and ex-husbands. 

Frodo looked at him skeptically, but said, “Ah, well I thought some clothes were in order, so I asked Sam to help me find some.” He offered the bundle in his arms to Sauron.

“Thank you, Frodo,” Sauron replied with a grateful smile. “I think clothes are just what I need.” He unfolded the garments one at a time, examining each with the air of one who was solving a great mystery.

Sam cleared his throat. “We also have some news.”

“News other than the reappearance of Sauron, sorcerer of dread power, master of shades, and lord of werewolves?” Maedhros said dryly from the doorway.

“How many names do I have?” Sauron asked Celebrimbor. He had at least managed to put on some underwear. 

“Many,” Celebrimbor replied shortly.

“How did I gain so many names?”

Sauron’s wide eyes and almost childlike questions made Celebrimbor feel like screaming. In the span of a few minutes, his world had been turned upside down like it hadn’t since his reincarnation. “Ask someone else. Please,” he added when Sauron’s expression began to look hurt. 

“Yes, big news, as a matter of fact.” Sam was studying Sauron warily. “Though him turning up after we all thought he was done away with for good is a pickle, make no mistake about it. And looking like that!”

Frodo lightly nudged Sam, and said, “Another guest has arrived.”

Írissë threw up her hands in the doorway. “Everyone thinks they're coming to help out, and they only sit around and eat up my food. The wedding isn’t for months yet. Did you two send out the right dates?”

“Yes!” said Fingon indignantly. “It’s not my fault that this is a much anticipated occasion to attend a beautiful celebration of love between two beloved heroes.”

Maedhros raised his eyebrows at him. “Speak for yourself. I am still not allowed in any of the major cities of Valinor.”

“Bureaucracy,” said Fingon with a wave of his hand.

Nerdanel cut them off before the conversation could devolve further. “Master Samwise, who is here?” She looked up at Írissë. “My house is almost full; we may need to start using your rooms.” Írissë sighed with resignation.

Sam coughed awkwardly. “Begging your pardon Mistress Nerdanel. It’s your husband Fëanor. He’s back.”