Marta's Mathoms - BMEM 2011 by Marta

Three for the Elven-Lords II

Círdan sat on the beach, twisting Gil-Galad's ring in his hand. His ring, he corrected himself, for it was now his to hold. That responsibility sat heavily on him, and a part of him longed to set this care aside, to lock it in a chest, put it out of his mind. But no; he still remembered the squalor of the refugee-camps on Balar, and the kinslayings borne of a dark oath. They all traced back to Finwë's squirrelling away his craftsman-son's treasures in the vaults of Formenos, and Círdan would not chance bringing any such curse down on later ages.

Ai, how he wished his king would find another ringbearer! Why not Celeborn, perhaps, or even Thranduil? Anyone save him. It struck him that, in another's hand, Narya might be a help rather than an encumbrance. Fire could warm a world-worn heart, after all, and in a silversmith's care it could burn away any impurities. Círdan, though, had always cleaved to water, to the ocean's ability to wash away all weariness. Narya's fire seemed ill-suited to him.

Still, what could not be helped must be endured. Círdan knew that, and he would bear this burden as best he could.