The Obstinate Spirit Of A Dying House by Gabriel

Chapter 1

Celebrimbor stepped onto the cobbled path that led from his villa to the private Fëanorion garden, set some distance away from the house and nestled among a small spattering of Holly trees.

Music and laughter wafted down the path towards him. It was such a welcome sound and took him back to happier times in Himlad.

The Tuilë-Mereth, a spring festival, the brain child of his uncle Caranthir, soon became a regular event, each year hosted in a different land by one of the sons of Fëanor. The strange combination of quenya and sindarin was meant partly as an insult, to King Thingol for his ban on quenya, which everyone knows had sat rather uneasily with his fiery and obstinate uncle. Celebrimbor remembered the colorful banners, rainbow lanterns, music and dance, and delicious food. Watching his father dancing with his mother on the makeshift dance floor. Children running around in all the excitement. The games and wheelbarrow races.The joy at seeing all of his uncles together again and his surprise when cousin Fingon appeared one day, accompanied by his uncle Maedhros. He missed them, missed them all.

He couldn’t remember the last time Ost-in-Edhil had had any type of formal or informal celebration… Too many hours spent in council planning, and many more building.

He straightened, squaring his shoulders and pulling at the hem of his tunic in an attempt to smooth out any wrinkles.

“Here, let me.” Erestor stepped in front of him, sweeping his gaze over the lord of Eregion with a critical eye. He reached up to adjust a brooch with the Fëanorion House sigil pinned at Celebrimbor’s throat, then finished with smoothing his hands across the broad shoulders.

“There.” Erestor smiled, satisfied.“You have my seal of approval.”

Celebrimbor quirked an eyebrow, He looked so much like Fëanor at times.”Since when have I ever needed your approval for anything?”

A slow and endearing smile crept across Erestor’s face, he moved closer and pressed a soft kiss to Celebrimbor’s lips. “Now come, we can’t keep the king waiting, now can we?” he murmured against Celebrimbor’s mouth. Turning, he adjusted his sword belt and strode off along the path toward the gardens, disappearing beyond the holly trees.

Celebrimbor took a breath, letting it out in a whoosh, preparing himself, then started along the path.

The sweet scent of roses permeated the air as he stepped into the archway. It was the gateway leading into the garden. His eyes moved over the crowd. He spied Galadriel and Celeborn standing with several dignitaries, nodding and smiling as one of the men gestured animatedly. Celebrimbor smiled to himself as his gaze shifted to an exceptionally beautiful woman, seated in the gazebo. She held a wine glass in her hand, the contents of which were sloshing about as she shook with laughter at something a man seated with her, a long time friend and fellow smith, was saying. It warmed his heart to see his mother so happy, after all these years.

Gil-galad, tall and regal and the true stamped image of Fingolfin was, as usual, encompassed by a large group of people. The king appeared tired and worn and moved a little stiffly, which was probably the reason for the two steely-eyed warriors shadowing his every move. But still with that charismatic smile and his way of making everyone feel important. At that moment, Gil-galad glanced up and, upon seeing him, gave his cousin a smile. Celebrimbor returned it with a broad one of his own, his thoughts turning to how there were too few of them left now. There was an urgency, suddenly, to keep each and everyone of them close and safe.

“Ty?” Erestor was standing by a small buffet table, looking simply magnificent in a long red and black tunic, black leggings and boots. The lord of Eregion took the steps two at a time, grasped the goblet Erestor held out to him, and took a sip. For now, it was enough to have everyone he loved and cared for here.