Flowers in Amber by IgnobleBard

Chapter 1

This story owes a big shout out to Pandemonium's portrayal of Annatar in his Ost-in-Edhil days. I tried to make the character my own, but there's no denying the inspiration is due to her.

Read Chapter 1

Elrond was mindful of the mud he was tracking across the polished marble floor of Celebrimbor’s hall. His ride had been hard and swift, on a matter of urgency, and he had hoped for a moment to rest and change from his traveling clothes before his meeting with the Lord of Ost-in-Edhil. Yet when he had arrived, his escort took him immediately through Celebrimbor’s lobby to what looked like a combination study and workroom, where he had left him standing without even offering to take his cloak.

Annoyed, Elrond removed his riding gloves and bunched them in one hand, his brow knit in a frown. While he hadn’t expected a grand welcome he had expected to be treated with a modicum of respect as Gil-Galad’s representative. The ties between their families ran deep.

He glanced about the chamber, his irritation giving way to his customary curiosity. He had never met Celebrimbor before and always liked to see what he could surmise about a man from his work area. For example, Gil-Galad’s study was as meticulous as the man himself. There was not a wasted bit of space or unnecessary item to be found except for a bottle that sat upon his desk with a model of a swan ship inside, a tribute to both his love of the sea and his fixation upon precision and detail.

Celebrimbor’s study, on the other hand, was a lesson in controlled chaos. While the desk was tidy, with scrolls and papers neatly arranged and a large open work area, the workbench in the corner was overflowing with oddly shaped bits of metal and a scattering of small tools. Drawings and fragments of parchment, ragged and crumpled, were tacked to the walls and littered the floor. A few books were placed here and there on a chair or shelf and one was lying face down on the windowsill. Elrond pursed his lips in distaste to see a book with a spine haphazardly broken in that manner, and he went over and lifted it up, flicking a bit of dust off one of the pages before closing it carefully and placing it back on the sill. The title was “Metallurgy of Gondolin” and bore the name Erestor as its author.

Elrond heard a chime and turned around, noticing a strange object on a shelf behind the cluttered workbench. It was an ornate metal box with a glass front containing a round disk with the numbers one to twelve spaced around it. Two thin strips of metal inside pointed to the numbers and, as he watched, one of these strips moved slightly past the number with a small clicking sound. He was certain this box was the source of the chime but could see no bell or other object that could have made it. He picked up the box to examine it more thoroughly, turning it this way and that. He was so intent that he nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him.

“I see you have discovered my clock.”

Elrond spun around, fumbling the box, just managing not to drop it. A man stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on a stained rag that he then stuck in his back pocket. The man moved forward with a fluid, easy grace and thrust out his hand in greeting. Elrond put the clock back on the shelf and clasped the proffered hand with his most charming, diplomatic smile.

“Celebrimbor? It is good to meet you at last,” Elrond said.

At the touch of the man’s hand, Elrond felt a palpable surge of energy that almost made him jump. Yet he found himself captivated by the large, deep grey eyes that looked candidly into his. Elrond thought this man among the most beautiful he had ever seen, not that he expected less from a grandson of Fëanor. His hair was like a midnight sky, profoundly black, glittering with droplets of sweat from some recent labor. His features were strong and regular, his pale skin flawless, but his eyes held Elrond entranced; large and widely set, framed by thick black lashes, full of wisdom and benevolence.

“No,” the man replied, “I am Annatar. Celebrimbor asked me to greet you while he finishes his work at the forges.”

Elrond’s face fell. He covered quickly with a small bow even as a chill raced up his spine. “Forgive me, Lord Annatar, for not recognizing you. You seem changed since last we spoke,” Elrond said uncertainly. ‘I could have sworn he resembled Gil-galad when last I saw him, but now his face is more angular, his eyes a deeper gray. Curious indeed.’

Annatar gave a full, hearty laugh. “Forgive me, Master Elrond, for presenting myself to you in such a frightful state. I was working at the forges myself and am just come from there.” He took in Elrond’s travel-soiled cloak and boots with dismay. “I see you were not given the chance to rest and freshen up from your journey before your audience with Celebrimbor. Allow me to correct that.” Annatar tugged at a bell pull next to the desk. “I am afraid we do not stand much on ceremony here. The servants are used to the mess we smiths make and I am sure they thought your matter urgent enough to forgo the usual amenities. It appears you have ridden here in haste.”

Elrond felt his face grow hot but he answered coolly, “Indeed. I have come bearing a message from my lord on a matter of some import, but I would welcome the opportunity to change and rest before speaking with Lord Celebrimbor.”

Just then the door opened and a servant appeared. He bowed to each in turn, but addressed Annatar. “How may I assist you, my lord?”

“Show Master Elrond to a room and attend him. He has had a long, wearying journey. Also, please inform Lord Celebrimbor that Master Elrond is most eager to speak with him. He bears a message from the High King.”

“It shall be done, my lord,” said the servant with a bow. He turned to Elrond. “If you please, sir.”

As Elrond followed the servant out, Annatar said, “It is good to see you again, Master Elrond. Perhaps we can chat again at supper.”

“I look forward to it,” Elrond said politely, thinking exactly the opposite.

Once in his room, Elrond removed his cloak and muddy boots and sat down heavily in a chair by the window. Annatar unsettled him in the same way he had at their previous meeting, and not just due to the shock of finding out he was not Celebrimbor. His shape-shifting looks and casual familiarity both disturbed and rankled. After Gil-galad refused him entrance to Lindon he had immediately come to Eregion, quite eager to share his “gifts” with those of Middle-earth. Elrond’s suspicions, which had nagged him before, spiked sharply. His mission was now much less urgent but no less important. The difficulty was how to present his case to Celebrimbor. How receptive would he be to Gil-Galad’s concerns, to his concerns, when Annatar had already insinuated himself into the Gwaith-i-Mírdain?

He called for a bath to be drawn then dressed in a tunic of midnight blue silk embroidered with silver stars, black doeskin trousers, and black leather ankle boots with silver buckles. No matter how his meeting with Lord Celebrimbor went, he at least now felt he was presenting himself in a better light than when he had first arrived.

He expected to be escorted back to Celebrimbor’s study but was instead taken to one of the Lord’s private rooms. There were several cushioned chairs with side tables and a marble fireplace, the sides carved to look like trees. At the top, under the mantel, rose the Misty Mountains. The effect was that of looking through the trees at the edge of the forest to the mountains in the far distance. For a moment it caught Elrond’s eye, for he had never seen the like of such craftsmanship.

Then he looked to Celebrimbor and this time there could be no mistaking his host for any other. Celebrimbor was possessed of the striking good looks and perfection of form that was the hallmark of his lineage; tall, with strong arms, and broad shoulders that tapered to a slim waist. His sable hair hung in soft waves to the middle of his back, held in check by a mithril clip set with a small emerald. His eyes were the color of pewter, with flecks of gold ringing the pupils, and held a confidence and curiosity that reminded him of Maglor. Despite his vocation, his hands were immaculate, his nails neatly clipped and buffed. He wore a green velvet jerkin with red and gold brocade over a light grey shirt and forest green trousers.

Elrond felt a fleeting, melancholy weight upon his heart at seeing Celebrimbor, the last of his noble, tragic line, with no wife or children with whom to share his passions and considerable knowledge. It would be unfortunate indeed if he were destined to come to ruin like his kin. He shook off the feeling, disconcerted by the path of his thoughts. Celebrimbor stood when he entered and Elrond bowed, his hand over his heart.

“Greetings, Master Elrond. You need not bow to me, unless it makes you feel more comfortable. We forgo such formalities here. Please accept my apology for not meeting with you earlier. Timing is everything in the shaping of metal, and one reaches a point in the work where mere seconds can mean triumph or failure. I was at just such a point when you arrived and could not leave. I trust Lord Annatar extended my regrets.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. No apologies necessary. Lord Annatar was most kind.”

“I am glad to hear it. Now, what message from the High King brought you from Lindon with such haste?”

Elrond looked around the chamber to make sure they were alone. “It is a private matter, my lord. May I approach?”

“Of course,” Celebrimbor said, motioning him forward. “You have me curious, Master Elrond. You are being most mysterious.”

“I assure you it is not my intent,” Elrond said, moving closer. “Did you receive a message sent from Lindon these three months hence?”

“If you are referring to the matter of Lord Annatar, I did indeed. I have simply chosen to ignore it.” Elrond opened his mouth to speak but Celebrimbor raised a staying hand. “If this is the reason you have come, I fear your journey has been for naught. Lord Annatar was sent by the Valar to teach us. His words are wise and his knowledge is great. I see no reason to doubt him.”

“Even so, my lord, a little caution could not go amiss could it? Both Gil-galad and I doubt his assertion that he was sent from the Valar, though I admit we have no evidence his claim is false. Still, gifts rarely come without a price.”

“Ah, but you have not seen what he is capable of, nor his generosity. He asks nothing for himself, he works harder than the most driven of us, he speaks with wisdom and humility, but most of all his desires are our desires, to achieve glory and honor though the sweat of our brows, not the point of our swords. It is a rare time of peace in Middle-earth. Why not use this respite from the darkness to raise ourselves to the pinnacle of our abilities and make this world better in the process?”

“It is a worthy goal, my lord,” Elrond said, “I do not deny. . .”

“Then you and Gil-galad need not worry yourselves about our latest guest,” Celebrimbor broke in. “I invite you to stay and not hurry back to Lindon. Stay and witness the work we are doing here. Then if you still believe we are wrong to trust Lord Annatar, I will keep a watchful eye upon him. It is the most I am prepared to offer at this time, for I will not turn him out of my city on the whim of our king or his herald.”

Elrond was irate but Celebrimbor’s reaction was not entirely unexpected. Without hesitation he replied, “I accept your offer, my lord. Thank you.”

“Splendid. We shall expect you for supper then. In the meantime, feel free to ask the servants for anything you might need. The library is in the east wing. Consider it at your disposal should you wish to do some reading. One can nearly always find a partner for one game or another in the lobby of the west wing. There is a large music room, also in the west wing where the musicians among us like to gather in the evenings. The playing of instruments is quite common here as it aids the dexterity which is essential to our work. If you prefer the outdoors there are many courtyards and gardens as well. I hope you will find our city to your liking. Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course, my lord,” Elrond said. “Thank you for your time.”

Celebrimbor left and Elrond fumed. He felt completely dismissed, as if his doubts were of as much import as a child chasing shadows. If only Celebrimbor had given him the opportunity to speak. . . but no. With nothing but an uneasy feeling how could he hope to make Celebrimbor understand the need for caution? He knew his best chance of convincing his host was to agree to stay and see with his own eyes what was going on. Perhaps Celebrimbor was right and Annatar was everything he claimed to be. If that was the case, he could allay Gil-galad’s fears as well by remaining in Ost-in-Edhil for a few weeks. Elrond was willing to be proved wrong.

He decided to take Celebrimbor up on his suggestion to visit the library. Some light reading would be welcome before bed. He only hoped there was something there of more interest than the books in Celebrimbor’s study. Wandering the halls of the great house he was dazzled by the opulence surrounding him. Everywhere he looked he was confronted with objects of surpassing beauty. Gold leaf gleamed from the tops of marble columns, gems adorned vases and urns, silver shone from candlesticks set upon tables topped with onyx or lapis. Yet despite the splendor of it all, Elrond found not one object in Celebrimbor’s home as lovely as a single foxglove or athelas flower.

The library was the only place Elrond had seen as yet that was orderly and muted in its grandness. Here the books took center stage, resting in quiet dignity upon mahogany floor-to-ceiling shelves. Cushioned chairs and simple tables of ebony were scattered liberally throughout and a modest fireplace with a green marble front piece and mantel sat at the back of the room, surrounded by two chairs and a long sofa upholstered in green velvet with pillows to match.

Elrond smiled and began to peruse the lower shelves, feeling at home at last. He was in the process of making his selections, which he planned to take back to his room for later, when a pretty young woman walked in. She had silver hair and eyes like a morning sea, grey and tranquil. She gave him a smile and went to a collection of books on iron work, pulling a book from the shelf then settling on the couch.

“A little light reading?” Elrond inquired.

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, then glanced down at her book and gave a merry little laugh. “Light reading of a heavy subject. This is for a project I am working on.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow. “So you are a smith?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Does that surprise you?”

“It shouldn’t, but I suppose it does,” Elrond said honestly. “I have never met a lady who worked in the forges before.”

“It is not an uncommon thing here, thank Eru. But to answer your question, I live in Ost-in-Edhil, why not learn from the best?”

She nodded toward the books Elrond held. “I take it smithery is not your trade.”

Elrond held up his selections, which consisted of a book on the treatment of burns and other common injuries, a book on healing stones, and a book of Sindarin poetry. “You are correct, my lady. I am the herald of the High King, and though I have many interests the working of metal is, alas, not one of them.”

“What brings you to Ost-in-Edhil then, Master Elrond?”

Elrond was taken aback that she knew his name, until he realized she must have guessed it from his association with Gil-galad. “Only to speak with Lord Celebrimbor. He was kind enough to ask me to stay in the city for a time and I have accepted. But I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my lady, for you have guessed my name despite my lack of manners in our introduction, and I do not know yours.” He walked over and sat down beside her as he spoke.

“I am Celebrian,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

She extended her hand and Elrond took it, but before he could bring it to his lips for a kiss, she gave him a firm handshake instead.

“Please, call me Elrond,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “I am no lord.”

“And I am no lady,” she replied with a sly smile. Elrond found himself liking this pert, brash young woman.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Celebrian. Perhaps you can tell me a bit about the work you do here. I am quite interested.”

“You may be sorry you asked. Please tell me if I begin to bore you.”

“You shall be the first to know,” Elrond said with mock solemnity.

So, Celebrian launched into a summary of the different types of metal and stone work going on in the city. It seemed since the coming of Annatar, smithery and masonry was on the cusp of a renaissance of sorts. The forges were never so busy and new ideas and designs were coming from them daily. Dwarves were circulating about the city, learning and teaching their unique techniques, and workshops were packed to capacity with eager smiths and masons. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and by the time she paused for breath Elrond found himself wondering once again if he was being unnecessarily alarmist.

“It certainly sounds wonderful,” Elrond said at last. “Have you met Lord Annatar?”

“Not personally, but I have seen him in the Great Hall in the evenings. He is very fair and very wise. I wish I could work more closely with him for I hear he is a marvelous collaborator, but I am only a novice. It will be many years before I am ready to work with someone of his skill, or that of Lord Celebrimbor,” Celebrian said with a pretty little pout.

A servant came in to light the lamps and it was only then that the two noticed the hour.

“It is growing late, I must be getting ready for supper,” Elrond said. “It was very nice meeting you, Celebrian. Perhaps we may chat again another time.”

“That would be most agreeable,” Celebrian said. She smiled at Elrond and he knew it was a smile he would never forget.

They parted and Elrond took his books to his room and prepared for supper. A servant showed him to the Great Hall where, to his surprise, he found himself seated to the left of the lord’s chair at the high table. Annatar was already seated to the right, but Celebrimbor had not yet arrived. No fanfare announced his presence, just a simple chiming of silver bells. The crowd fell silent until Celebrimbor entered and seated himself then the general tumult of the hall began as the food was brought forth.

“I trust you found some way to amuse yourself this afternoon,” Celebrimbor said.

“I did, my lord. I met a lovely young lady in the library. Celebrian was her name.”

“Ah, yes, Galadriel’s daughter. She is a distant cousin of mine, and not so young as you might think. A quick mind and strong will, like her mother, but I fear her interest in smithery is little more than that of a dilettante.”

Elrond was reeling from that bit of news. The daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn? No wonder she was so lovely and spirited. He recovered quickly, feeling somehow he must defend her though he did not know why. “She seemed very enthusiastic when we spoke.”

“Yes, she is quite interested in the art, but more to irritate her mother I think. I indulge her for the same reason,” he said with a wry smile. “Still, she works hard and shows some aptitude. She might make a good smith one day if her interest does not turn to more gentle pursuits, as is so often the case with females.”

Elrond would have chuckled at that remark, but then he realized Celebrimbor was serious. He wondered if Celebrimbor was one of those men who felt threatened by women working alongside them or if it was Celebrian in particular he dismissed as frivolous. If that was the case, Elrond doubted he knew Galadriel well.

“Does the city have many women smiths?” Elrond asked.

“A few. Many of them are Dwarves but we have perhaps fifty Elf women. Most of them are jewel smiths, with a few notable exceptions.”

“I find your city fascinates me more all the time. May I observe the forges tomorrow?”

“Certainly, I was counting on it. I think once you see the work we are doing here you will change your mind about many things. For example, Annatar tells me you were looking at the clock in my study earlier. It is a small advancement we have made for the telling of the hours. The Dwarves, working underground as they do, cannot rely on the sun and stars to tell the time, so they designed the device. Of course we have made some improvements of our own, but I think you will agree that the trading of such ideas is useful and benefits both our peoples.”

“I never doubted it, my lord,” Elrond said emphatically. “I am sure the work you do is without equal. Perhaps we can discuss this further after supper. Do you play arantyalmë?”

“I do indeed, and I would welcome some new blood. I fear I have bested my court so often I find it difficult to find a partner.”

“I hope I do not disappoint you,” Elrond said.

“If you hold your own past six moves I will be more than satisfied,” Celebrimbor replied. He smiled and Elrond felt his heart skip a beat.

Elrond smiled in return but quietly chastised himself. Celebrimbor was not the foster father for whom he had harbored unrequited feelings these many years. Strange how the past could lie dormant, like a crocus under the snow, until a beam of sunlight, a smile or look, could bring it to bloom in an instant.

“I will do my best, my lord,” Elrond said through a wan smile of his own.

After the supper was done the crowd started clamoring for the evening’s entertainment. Elrond was surprised to see that, instead of a group of professional musicians and storytellers, some of the guests began pulling harps from under chairs and flutes from out of pockets and making their way to the front of the hall. The high table was cleared and pushed back against the wall, allowing the dais to act as a stage. Elrond, Celebrimbor, and the others sat on a bench at the front to watch the performances.

There were comical tales, fanciful, lively music, somber, recitations of poetry, and even short scenes from plays and opera, all performed with enthusiastic encouragement from the crowd. Elrond could see how the practice created a feeling of community and good will among all and he decided to speak with Gil-galad about starting the practice in Lindon.

Just as the evening was winding down, someone called out, “Will Lord Annatar grace us with a song?”

The question was met with excited applause from the audience but Annatar shook his head and held up his hands. “No, my friends, not tonight, the hour grows late and I am sure our guest is weary,” he said, bowing to Elrond.

“Not at all,” Elrond countered. “It is never too late for another song or story.”

“But I have nothing prepared,” Annatar protested. “I could not possibly. . .”

A groan rose from the crowd and several people shouted, “Please, Lord Annatar, please.” Elrond was reminded of children trying to wheedle another story before being put to bed.

He gave Annatar a small nod. “It seems the crowd will not take no for an answer,” Elrond said. “If you would be so kind, I would love a song as well.”

Annatar sighed and surrendered gracefully. “Very well, one song then. Perhaps Master Elrond would do me a kindness in turn and suggest something.”

Elrond had put himself on the spot. He thought for a moment then said, “How about the' Lay of Leithian'? It is an especial favorite of mine.”

Annatar’s eyes flickered for an instant with a look Elrond could not place, but he smiled and bowed low. “An excellent suggestion, Master Elrond,” he said, and took the stage.

He was a striking figure, standing tall and proud upon the dais, his hair pulled back in a bejeweled braid. Just before he began, he raised an eyebrow and Elrond was struck by how closely the mannerism mirrored his brother Elros. In fact, Annatar’s stance and the curve of his lips were remarkably like Elros as well. The effect was most unnerving.

A harpist began the tune, followed by a flute and viol. After the introductory notes Annatar joined in, lifting his rich tenor voice in song. His smooth tones filled the Great Hall, weaving images of enchantment, dread, fear, and finally sorrow for the maid “more fair than any child of men” who lives now only in memory. Elrond sat enthralled, or ensnared he could not be sure, feeling every note, every emotion as though he lived the events instead of hearing them sung.

By the time the song ended, and he came back to himself, tears were coursing down his cheeks. He glanced around, wiping at his eyes hastily with his sleeve, but no one was looking, except Annatar. Everyone else seemed to be waking from a dream or spell. After a long moment, the audience gave an ovation of subdued, reverent applause. Elrond suppressed a shudder. There was power here, the room all but crackled with it, but whether for good or ill he could not say.

Annatar acknowledged the applause with a humble bow, then turned to Elrond. “I hope I was able to do the song justice, Master Elrond.”

His look was hopeful, eager. Elrond gasped aloud, for the aspect was identical to that of his mother whenever his father returned from the sea. He still saw that look in his dreams. Elrond swallowed hard, his heart beating like a bird in a snare. He rose quickly. “I have never heard it sung better,” he choked out. He turned to Celebrimbor and gave a stiff bow. “Please excuse me, my lord. I fear the wine has gone to my head a bit. I must go lie down.”

Celebrimbor gave him an odd look but replied with equanimity. “Of course you may go. I shall send for you in the morning. I hope you are well by then.”

“You are most kind, my lord. I am sure I shall be,” Elrond said. He all but fled the hall.

He rushed through the lobby to his chambers, stopping by a privy down the hall where he promptly lost his supper. He staggered to his room, his head spinning, and found his bed turned down and a fine dressing gown lying upon it. He scrambled out of his evening wear and slipped it on, then kindled a fire though the room held no chill. Pulling a chair close to the hearth he huddled in the dressing gown, pulling it close around him like a frightened child. What was wrong with him, with everyone? Was he seeing shadows where none existed or was he the only one seeing clearly?

He must have dozed, for the next thing he knew he was awakened by a knock at the door. He answered it to find Celebrimbor standing there with a look of concern. “I wanted check on you,” he said. “Are you ill?”

“No, my lord. As I said, the wine was a bit strong. I am feeling much better now.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Celebrimbor said, relief plain on his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Thank you, my. . .”

“Please stop calling me ‘my lord’,” Celebrimbor broke in. “I cannot stand such formalities. May I come in?”

Elrond drew back from the door, chagrined. “Of course, do come in.”

Celebrimbor entered. He looked at the fire and then at Elrond. “Are you cold?”

Elrond sighed, shaking his head. “It was just a passing chill.”

“Let us get to the heart of the matter,” Celebrimbor said. “Your dislike of Annatar is very strong, I can see that, but you are working yourself into a bad state of mind over nothing.”

“I do not dislike Annatar,” Elrond protested, “I simply do not trust him. Please, let us not discuss him further tonight. I am more interested in what you have built here and what you hope to achieve.”

Celebrimbor’s face lit up, his eyes filled with excitement. “What I am building, what I hope to see come to fruition, is a realm more glorious than Valinor right here in Middle-earth. We have the will and the knowledge within our grasp, all we have to do is reach out and make it happen. Imagine a world where the ravages of time are slowed, perhaps stopped altogether. Where the sorrow of our long years may be turned to joy and enrichment. It is nothing less than the reshaping of Arda, this time in our image, to heal this land long marred.”

Elrond could not help but be caught up in Celebrimbor’s passion, though his mind still urged caution. “It is a beautiful dream, but this is not Valinor and never will be, and I do not see that as a bad thing.”

“You are young, Elrond, and were not born under my curse, the curse that claimed my kin and continues to haunt me. There are those of us who still live under the doom of Mandos. You cannot understand.”

“I know well the sorrow that doom has wrought,” Elrond said sadly. “The only way to fight it is to remain vigilant and not repeat the mistakes of the past.”

“Which is exactly what I intend to do,” Celebrimbor said with finality. “You will see tomorrow. I promise.” He took Elrond’s hand in both of his. Elrond felt that familiar flutter in his stomach.

“I hope you do not find me too forward, but you remind me very much of Maglor,” Elrond said softly.

Celebrimbor smiled. “Most tell me I look like my father.”

“Perhaps. I did not know him well.”

“Nor I, as it turned out.” A cloud of pain crossed Celebrimbor’s face, but then the sun of a smile broke through. “But, please, let us turn from these heavy subjects. It is yet early. Might you still be up for that game?”

Elrond squeezed Celebrimbor’s hand. “Nothing would please me more.”

Celebrimbor called for a servant and had him fetch the board. Arantyalmë, or chess as it was called in the East, was well known among the Elves who had taken an instant liking to the complex strategy the game involved. Celebrimbor’s set was one of the most exquisite Elrond had seen. The white pieces were ivory and the black pieces jet. The board was ebony inlaid with alabaster. Elrond chose white and so went first. The two men played for over an hour before Elrond found himself hemmed in and was forced to surrender his king.

“You are an excellent player, Elrond. I wish you were a member of my court so we might play often. I think it possible you might even best me the next time.”

“It is a pleasure playing with someone of your skill. Gil-galad has little interest in the game but he plays me occasionally out of kindness,” Elrond said with a chuckle.

“He is missing out on one of the great joys in life.”

“So I have told him, many times.”

Celebrimbor laughed. Elrond decided he liked the sound very much. For the first time since coming to Ost-in-Edhil, Elrond felt truly welcome, truly happy.

He and Celebrimbor talked far into the night, finding they had many areas of interest. Elrond even discovered smithing and masonry was not as dull as he had imagined. The way Celebrimbor described the process was fascinating. There was something about forcing a piece of metal or stone to your will that Elrond found admirable, even noble. They also spoke of books they enjoyed and the healing arts, of which Celebrimbor knew little. They ended up laughing and chatting together like old friends, all of their cares forgotten for a time in the delight of each others company.

Finally Celebrimbor stood and stretched mightily. “It is getting late and I must be going. Perhaps we can share another game tomorrow night.”

“Nothing would please me more.”

“Then it is settled. Shall I have you called to breakfast or would you prefer to ring for someone when you are up and about?”

“I would prefer to be called. I do not want to be late to accompany you to the forges.”

“Very well, it shall be done.”

Celebrimbor moved to leave and Elrond said, “Thank you for coming by to check on me, my lord. This evening has been the most pleasant I have had in a very long time.”

Celebrimbor nodded. “I enjoyed myself as well. Until tomorrow then.”

“Until tomorrow,” Elrond echoed. He watched Celebrimbor leave, the room seeming suddenly cold and empty without him.

The next morning Elrond was up and dressed before the call came. He tried to do some reading but his mind was on Celebrimbor and the evening they had shared. He paced the floor trying to sort out his feelings before finally giving up the exercise. What did it matter the reason for his attraction? Celebrimbor was very much his own man and Elrond was charmed by who he was and the things he had done. It must have taken great courage to repudiate his father, to forge his own path. He could have fallen prey to anger, bitterness or despair but instead he had lifted himself up and his people as well.

When the servant arrived to escort him to breakfast, Elrond was more than ready. He was happy to see that he and Celebrimbor would be dining alone. Annatar was nowhere to be seen, and though curious as to his whereabouts, Elrond refused to ask about him. He did not want to think about the man until he had to.

Breakfast was a lavish affair since the work of the forges was physically arduous. Elrond was astounded by the sheer number and variety of the meats and pastries on offer. Though he managed to fill his plate with only a few items, Celebrimbor ate as though he might never be served a meal again. Elrond found it amusing, watching him consume a whole duck and a plate of cakes while never allowing their conversation to lull.

After they had their fill, and for Elrond even a little more, they went to the forges. Elrond was unprepared for its size and number of workers. Fires blazed, steam rose, and the clang of metal was so loud it hurt his ears. Celebrimbor stripped off his shirt and Elrond tried not to gape at the glorious sight before him. Celebrimbor’s arms and chest looked sculpted from marble, his skin pale and smooth as moonstone. His chest and arms bulged with corded muscle. His apron rode low on his hips, giving Elrond a welcome view of his muscular abdomen. He looked as dauntless as the strongest warrior, as noble as the most peerless king.

He picked up a lump of gold and handed it to Elrond. “What do you feel when you hold this?”

Elrond thought it was a joke, but he saw Celebrimbor was serious. “Nothing. It is a lifeless piece of metal.”

Celebrimbor smiled as though pleased by the answer. “Ah, but that is where you are wrong. It is where we were all wrong. Annatar has taught us to listen to how gold, how all metals speak. Close your eyes and let your mind go blank, then fill it with gold, concentrate on that lump of metal in your hand.”

Elrond thought this the maddest thing he had ever heard, but he did as instructed. He closed his eyes and thought of gold, concentrated on the piece he held. At first there was nothing but the feeling he must look foolish, but when he focused his mind, a faint song came through. The song grew in his mind and he saw a gold band adorned with a blue stone. The sound of strong wind whistled in his ears, a breeze touched his face. He opened his eyes in surprise and the song was gone, what he had felt was gone, as though it had never been.

“What magic is this?” he asked, hastily putting the gold back on the workbench.

“It is not magic. This is what Annatar has taught us. When we listen with our hearts, the metal tells us what it wants to be. This gold wants to be a ring. It wants to hold and nurture a bright gem and adorn the hand of a man or woman of nobility and power.”

“How did you know?”

“It says the same to all who will listen, the key is to listen.”

“Truly remarkable,” Elrond said, impressed by Annatar for the first time.

He spent the day in the forges, watching Celebrimbor work, mulling over the lesson of the metal. Nothing in the world was without its own song, Elrond realized, though he thought it something he should have known all along. Did not the world come into being through music? Yet he had never thought about it in those terms. Perhaps there was something to Annatar’s gifts after all.

Thinking of Annatar made Elrond wonder about him again. He had not shown up all day. Finally, Elrond broke down and asked Celebrimbor of his whereabouts.

“He has gone to Moria to speak with the Dwarves about a project we have been working on. He will not be back for a week.”

Elrond felt a flood of relief, followed by annoyance. He had agreed to stay to come to a decision about Annatar he could take back to Gil-Galad, but how could he form an opinion of the man’s works if he wasn’t there?

“That is unfortunate, for I wanted to see his work as well. I hope I did not distress him with my hasty departure last night.”

“He was understandably worried by your sudden illness. He thought he might have done something to upset you. But it is no matter. He told me to give you his regards and to say he will see you upon his return if you are still here.”

‘If I am still here,’ thought Elrond with irritation, and just when Celebrimbor had almost convinced him he might be wrong about Annatar’s fair-seeming.

After a productive day, they left the forges together. Elrond had met many of the other smiths and spoken with them about the projects they were working on. Almost to a man, they praised Annatar and his guidance. They all said they were doing the best work of their lives since his arrival and had more ideas than they could complete in many years. Despite Annatar’s untimely absence, Elrond came away with a much brighter outlook than when he had arrived.

That evening Celebrimbor sent word that he was having a private supper in his rooms and asked Elrond if he would like to join him. He accepted readily, but looking through the wardrobe in his chambers he found himself fussing over what to wear. His wardrobe had been furnished with a variety of plain and elegant clothing that was tailored to fit him to perfection. He wondered how formally he should dress for an audience with Celebrimbor. He didn’t want to insult him by going too casually dressed, nor put him off with too much formality. He finally decided on a black tunic with a simple silver star embroidered upon the breast and black trousers with red piping down the legs. After a moment’s hesitation he topped off his ensemble with a silver hair clip Maglor had given him as a gift when he first came of age. Elrond was not much on possessions, knowing how fleeting such things were, but had kept and treasured this simple piece of jewelry for yeni.

When he finished dressing, he went to Celebrimbor’s rooms on his own, after asking a servant for directions. He could have called for an escort but did not think it necessary to pull someone from their duties to show him around. Arriving at Celebrimbor’s door, he paused to wipe his sweaty hands on the back of his pants, check the shine on his boots, and rapped decisively.

Celebrimbor opened the door, bursting into a smile at the sight of him. “I see you found me without assistance. Please come in.”

“I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I familiarized myself with the place a little. There is something extraordinary around every corner here.”

“It gladdens me to hear you say that. One grows complacent when one lives in a place for long. It is easy to take our gifts for granted until we see them through new eyes.”

“Very true, very true,” Elrond said. He looked around Celebrimbor’s room, pleased to see the splendor of his halls was not in evidence. The furniture of his sitting room was simple and contained none of the ornate carvings he had seen in other furnishings here. The draperies were pulled back, revealing a golden twilight sky beyond where Eärendil outshone the waning sun.

“Would you like to take a walk in the garden before supper? I do so often. It is a pleasant change from the forges. I do some of my best thinking there.”

“I would love to,” Elrond replied.

The gardens were as beautiful as the halls, with flowers in profusion everywhere, filling the air with perfume despite the early autumn chill. Elrond found the atmosphere and company relaxing, though the only thinking he did was about Celebrimbor. They retired just after sunset for a quiet supper and another round of chess. This time Elrond was able to run Celebrimbor’s king to ground with his knight and rook.

“Ah, to have bested me so quickly in our games is a good omen. I believe I have found my partner at last,” Celebrimbor said.

“It was a fluke, I am afraid,” Elrond replied. "You left your queen unprotected and after that. . .” he trailed off with a shrug.

“It was a mistake, to be sure, but I did not see your counter coming. Very masterful.”

Elrond felt his cheeks redden. “You are most kind, my lord.”

“I see you revert back to formality when emotion comes too close,” Celebrimbor said. “But in this case I do not mind. It was worth it to see you blush.”

Elrond blushed again. “I have never realized that, but you are right, I do. It is just that I do not often receive a compliment from one whom I admire.”

“Are partners so rare for you? I would not have thought it.”

“Not more so than many others I should think," Elrond said uncertainly. "We are still talking about arantyalmë, are we not?”

“Definitely not,” Celebrimbor said. The look in his eyes was tender and a little expectant.

“You do me too great a kindness, my lord. . . Celebrimbor,” Elrond amended with a nervous smile.

“Oh, Elrond, you must know the figure you cut, your effect on others when you let your guard down and they see the man within.”

“I do not often let my guard down.” Elrond found his palms were sweaty again.

“Perhaps you should. Learning to trust is a good thing. It has taken me many years to learn this, and much heartache, but I have prospered since.” He reached out and laid his hand upon Elrond’s.

Elrond pulled his hand back. “Forgive me,” he said at Celebrimbor’s disappointed look. “It is only that. . . that. . .” he winced and held up his hands. “They are a bit damp, you see.” He looked so mortified that Celebrimbor burst out laughing.

“Oh, Elrond, you are oblivious,” he said at last.

He stood and moved around to where Elrond sat, purposely reached down and took both of Elrond’s hands in his. “See? What’s a little dampness between friends?”

Celebrimbor pulled Elrond to his feet and kissed him boldly. Elrond had little experience and none thus far to prepare him for the rush of his blood, like the blast of fiery air from a furnace, at the kiss of this beautiful grandson of Fëanor. He forced himself, just once, to not consider every horrid possibility that might occur should he give in to his feelings and returned the kiss valiantly.

His action inspired Celebrimbor to daring and they were soon divesting each other of their finery at a breakneck pace. Celebrimbor lifted Elrond in his strong arms and tumbled him into bed. As though in a dream, Elrond watched Celebrimbor’s hands, the hands that could speak metal to life, do the same to his taut body. His skin spoke its own language to Celebrimbor and he understood, cherished every word. Elrond’s hands, still damp, spoke encouragement with every touch, sought to return the pleasure his partner wrought tenfold. The ending was sweet and slow, in contrast to the swift beginning, and Elrond let himself go, lost in unimaginable sensation. When it was over, Elrond gathered Celebrimbor into his arms wanting to hold him and never let go. Celebrimbor embraced him, his fingertips entwined in Elrond’s hair.

The rest of the week before Annatar’s return was the best week of Elrond’s life. He and Celebrimbor spent so much time together that Celebrimbor neglected his work, not even reporting to the forges. Elrond expressed concern but Celebrimbor brushed it off, saying he deserved a vacation. They talked and played countless games of chess, most of which Celebrimbor won, and made love both frantically and leisurely for hours at a time.

At the end of the week Annatar returned as promised, but Elrond was no longer bothered by his games and tricks. He watched Annatar for a few days at the forges but could not see anything that raised any particular alarm. The man was hard working, patient with novices, a source of endless knowledge and shared ideas freely and collaboratively. In the end, Elrond decided there was no feasible reason to extend his visit. He met Celebrimbor in his rooms one last time before his planned journey home the next day.

“I wish you could stay,” Celebrimbor said. “I wish you did not have obligations elsewhere.”

“So do I. However, we have time. The world is at peace, your work is going well. I will speak with Gil-galad about Annatar. There is something undefinable about him that urges me to caution but I have to admit it is only a gut feeling. I have no evidence that he is untrustworthy.”

“I am glad you agree to that at least,” Celebrimbor said. “But, against my better judgement, and for you, I shall keep an eye on things.”

“I can ask no more,” Elrond said.

There was a pause as each regarded the other, reluctant to say the words.

“I hate good byes,” Elrond said at last, gruffly.

“So do I.”

“Then let us not say it,” Elrond said. He hesitated a moment then stepped up, took both of Celebrimbor’s hands in his and kissed him, a prelude to something deeper, to something in the far future. The vision clouded before his eyes and he foolishly took it as a good sign. The world had shifted again, new paths lay ahead.

He left and a long moment passed before Celebrimbor snapped out of reverie. He looked down to see a silver hair clip resting in his hand.