Celebrimbor: 30-Day Character Study by cloudyhymns

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Day 24: Weak Points, Part Two

A scene on using weaknesses to help another with similar ones.

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A/N: Chapter-specific content warning: Mentions of being followed.

I wish I could say "This totally wasn't brought to you by me taking a walk for inspiration/brainstorming and getting followed," but it totally was. I'm fine (I think) but it's a hard writing day now with nerves from that c':

The three shortcomings I picked on Day 9 were Ambition, Empathy, and Focus. Each can also be strengths; the complicated, multi-layered parts of Celebrimbor are what drew me to him as a character in the first place, and hopefully that comes through here.

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The silence of sleep falls over Ost-in-Edhil, unperturbed by the stumbling of party-goers and the laughing, joyful feasters of the king's retinue. Celebrimbor sees them off at the door, pointing them the correct way down the cobblestone street and giving them gentle nudges when they threaten to sleep on the stoop for their drunkenness.

The High King retires; his Herald stays behind, tracing the wood grain of Celebrimbor's bookshelves. "There's a day bed," Celebrimbor offers, and Elrond's eyes crinkle about the corners. "If you do not wish to pull yourself from your reading, that is."

Elrond tilts his head--his smile is sweet, but his words are halting. "Thank you, then, for your hospitality." There's something not quite there in his eyes, and Celebrimbor pauses mid-step.

"Wait one moment, it should be around here--" he redirects to his scaled-down workbench and rummages through the scrolls. "Aha!" He presents a fresh sheet to Elrond like the mightiest of gifts and offers Elrond his choice of inks.

Out of all his relatives, Elrond is most <i>unlikely</i> to ruin one of Celebrimbor's fountain pens. Out of all his relatives, Elrond is the <i>only</i> who receives the honor of using one of Celebrimbor's fountain pens.

Elrond folds the paper into a flat surface and awaits further questioning. "You know me too well, I fear," Celebrimbor sighs, and Elrond squints at him. "Oh, come now, I speak enough for the both of us." Then: "What happened along the way?"

Silence, then, as in the kind of sleep like death. Elrond's fingers tremor against the pen.

Tailed.

"By whom?"

Uruks.

The scratch of pen-nib against page never fails to make Celebrimbor's hair stand on end. Elrond keeps writing.

I start to wonder whether the King hunts them, or whether they hunt the King.

Celebrimbor hums, rich in the lull. "And I ask of you. Did they harm you?"

No.

Elrond's penmanship begins to tilt, a ship slowly lilting as she takes on water. "Mm. Not physically, then, I'm glad." And Celebrimbor's hands are warm when the hover just above Elrond's--Elrond does not look at him, not directly, but the movement of the air is clear enough to tell him when Celebrimbor's proximity changes. Then: "Have you eaten?"

A nod.

"Cleaned up?"

Another nod.

"Made water?"

Elrond stares at him, and Celebrimbor shrugs. "I often forget once I cross the doors of the smithy."

Done, Elrond writes onto the back of Celebrimbor's hand with the back of his pen, rounded and soft rather than sharp into his skin.

And Celebrimbor smiles. It sets all the alarm bells in Elrond to ringing. "Rested?"

Elrond's scrawl peters out. "Enough," he says out loud, and Celebrimbor raises a brow. "Enough. I have precious little time between the King's requests."

"I cannot discourage you from how you spend it," Celebrimbor begins, and Elrond's gaze flickers away, "but I do have a day bed for when separating from my studies is harder than separating ice." Elrond is opening his mouth to speak when Celebrimbor cuts in once more: "Likewise, you do not need to speak with me. I can read your hand just fine."

This is much faster, Elrond writes, and Celebrimbor grumbles an agreement.

 

The tower should ring with emptiness, but its guests are not yet asleep; the candles burn low, and Celebrimbor smothers them after he tucks the throw tight about Elrond's shoulders.

The two of them are shockingly alike, Celebrimbor thinks, despite vastly different areas of expertise. He looks at the runes Elrond has been improving and squints at the nuances of faint line-angle shifts, only to stumble into the corner of the wall as he attempts a closer view.

Sending Elrond to get some sleep is one thing; sending himself to get some is another. He will turn in when the next watch sounds, surely that will be the one.... perhaps, before then, he can reach a breakthrough in his latest blades. While none of the Gwaith have been able to recreate the blue blades of Gondolin, new fire ignites beneath his feet.... and Celebrimbor slumps over his drawings.

Like Elrond, he chooses his battles, and for once he yields to sleep.

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Chapter End Notes

Fun fact: this particular Elrond is responsible for three or four different fics now, but only one of them is his.