An Elf at the North Pole by elennalore

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Northwards!

Northwards! Northwards! That was the only thought in Celebrimbor’s mind. He could not live in Aman anymore. Not after everything that had happened in Middle-earth, in his previous life. He was re-embodied now, his body whole once again, except perhaps his mind. Maladjusted, he had heard others whisper when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Traumatised. Poor Celebrimbor.

He could not live in Aman, but there was no way out. Except one. The way most of the Noldor exiles had taken during the great darkness. The North way: Helcaraxe. He had never walked that way himself, but it felt only right that he would finally take the treacherous ice path to Middle-earth. He missed Eregion, he missed everything that had once been possible there.

It wouldn’t be the same, he knew, but then, he also wanted to see the mountains.

He set out well prepared, wearing leather and fur clothes, a pair of red leather boots and a woolly cap. He carried a spear with him, and lots of food – he knew he wasn’t a very good hunter. He started the journey one morning, without telling anyone. They might not have let him go. It took him many months to reach the place where the great ice began. He had learned to hunt already, and he didn’t think of turning back.

At some point he understood that there was something seriously wrong with the road. The world was changed, and the roads that had led to Middle-earth led to other places now. His compass told him that he was always going north. Northwards! But that was not where Middle-earth was. He had lost the road back home.

This time, he didn’t have to walk along Helcaraxë in darkness. It was good that he had thought to take his self-made sunglasses with him. It was summer, and the Sun never set. The icy world was almost too bright to his eyes, but he had faced radiant beings before, and Arien could not frighten him even though she watered his eyes and burned his skin. Celebrimbor slept little, and his dreams became uncomfortable. Still, he went on. He wanted to see what was at the end of the road.

When his compass started malfunctioning, he knew he had to be near his destination. And soon, Celebrimbor saw a great house on an icy cliff, a house with many towers, and he was curious to study it further. There was a pole, too, a tall icicle that felt suddenly ominous, like one of Annatar’s knives. He turned away from it before he remembered more. But there was nothing ominous about the house, and that way he went.

After a while he found a circling path that led up the icy hill. It was well hidden, as if the occupants were afraid of an attack, or otherwise didn’t like guests. Well, he thought, I’ve arrived in any case, and it would be a shame to not to meet whoever is living here before I go. He knocked on the heavy wooden door.

“Who’s there?” someone called inside.

“It’s me, Celebrimbor,” he answered. Then, after a short pause he added: “An Elf.” It was better to mention that he was not an Orc at least.

“An Elf? Red one or green one?”

What kind of question was that? Celebrimbor’s eyes wandered towards his red boots, but that was the only red thing he was wearing. “Neither. I’m a Noldo,” he said at last, rather proudly.

“A gnome?”

Celebrimbor had thought that they were speaking Quenya, but some of these words were so strange that he wasn’t sure about it anymore.

“A Noldo,” he repeated more slowly. “A maker-Elf. Crafter of fine items.” And some bad items, too, he thought, but it was best left unsaid for now. “Please, can I just come in? I’m quite tired, and hungry as well. I have been travelling.”

“Alright, alright! You don’t sound like a goblin to me. I will open the door at once!” The strange voice had come nearer. It was a male voice, but very soft and deep, as if the speaker was wearing a muzzle.

The door was opened, and Celebrimbor saw the person who had been talking to him, and he was a great polar bear. He took off his sunglasses, fearing that he had begun hallucinating, but the bear stayed, and looked very real. Before Celebrimbor managed to think of something suitable to say, he found himself being scrutinised by that enormous being. Somehow, it felt best to stay silent.

“I knew it,” the polar bear said triumphantly. “A red elf, although somewhat bigger than the rest. There’s never enough of you here. Come in, come in! Nice to meet you, Celebrimbor! My name is North Polar Bear.” The bear rumbled something like a laugh. “I have a real name, too, but that one I won’t tell just for anyone. So, call me NPB, won’t you?”

Celebrimbor, who had previous experience of people hiding their real names and motives, felt a little uneasy about this, but NPB felt like a decent sort of chap, and Celebrimbor was indeed hungry, so he brushed his worries aside and entered the strange house.

NPB took Celebrimbor to a guest room, and then to a bathhouse to clean himself before the dinner. At the dinner hall he first saw other elves, those red and green ones NPB had talked about. They were tiny, but very friendly, and they took him as their distant cousin, albeit a giant one.

“You look a bit like a red elf,” one of them said while they were eating porridge, “but I assure you that we green elves are more important. We work for Father Christmas; we pack presents and write addresses on them so that everyone gets their gifts in time. Meanwhile, red elves just fight!”

“That’s unfair! Without us, you would have a goblin invasion here!” protested one of the red-wearing elves. “Besides, we help Father Christmas at his workshop as well! We invent new presents every year, together with NPB!”

“What do you want to do, now that you have arrived here?” they all asked Celebrimbor in unison. “How are you going to help Father Christmas?”

Several thoughts crossed Celebrimbor’s mind. He hadn’t heard about Father Christmas before, but it sounded like he was a Giver of Gifts, and there was only one other being like that he had known before. He tried to say something, but couldn’t, and when he lowered his eyes, he realised that his hands were shaking. A panic threatened to overcome him, but there had been another word, a familiar one, and it had always been his safe haven.

“Workshop,” he said in a weak voice. “I can work in his workshop. I’m good at inventing things.”

And that’s how Celebrimbor became one of Father Christmas’ Elves.

TBC

Chapter End Notes

I have a desire to continue this fic, perhaps closer to the holiday season.

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