A Midwinter’s Feast by Lilith

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An Invitation

Celebrían issues an invitation to her cousin for the holiday feast and meets a few new and sometimes unusual characters.

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Celebrían slipped between the doors only a moment before they closed. She had followed the two young apprentices, neither of which had noticed her, so busy were they discussing the critiques they’d received from the Masters.

“He said it was tolerable.”

“She wanted to know why I’d made the nails not of uniform length. They were precisely the same.”

“He agreed with her and said they weren’t.”

“Can you believe ...”

She paid little attention to what they said and, instead, hurried behind them.  She followed them as they passed through the entry and continued through the main level. The forges were at ground level, covered but well vented and partially open to the elements. She heard the sound, sometimes musical, sometimes not, of hammers striking metal and the continued noise and bustle of Ost-in-Edhil’s smithies. The Mírdain were known as makers of jewels but their crafts extended far beyond ornaments and included a variety of useful and functional tools as well as inventions still more strange and fanciful (and far less useful and far more troublesome or so her father had said).

She was a little worried as she passed into the forge. She wasn’t afraid of harm coming to her despite the heat and the noise and the steady movement of working elves surrounding her, but she knew she was no longer permitted to venture here without her mother or her father present. She’d found this new rule peculiar and wondered why her mother had insisted upon it. She had been permitted a free run of the Mírdain when she had been much younger and, she thought from the wise age of ten, more foolish.

“Ay, hand me that ... Quick now.”

“Old man, will you finish that sometime this year or will it take you another ten?”

“Bauglir’s balls, I nearly ...”

“Ay, watch your tongue; there’s a ... there’s the Lady’s child here.”

“Watch your tongue, indeed,” this voice was a cool voice, a woman’s voice, low-pitched like her mother’s. It was a beautiful voice. It was melodious with a thread of song and of laughter in each word spoken, and it was not a voice she’d heard in the forges before. “Try to be more imaginative and less profane. Our Lady’s daughter should not be the only sufficient motivation for the exercise of a little more restraint and a very little more creativity. Where’s the girl?”

“She’s here, Master.” One of the journeymen, one with whom she’d been accustomed to play, when she used to visit, caught her arm. “I didn’t think she was supposed to come here any longer. I thought her mother forbade it; too dangerous or some such nonsense.”

“I see,” the woman who’d spoken earlier walked in their direction, musical laughter still sounding in her voice. She was tall, though not as tall as Celebrían’s own mother, and dark-haired where her mother was golden. But she was very pretty or seemed to be beneath the smudges of soot dusting her cheek. She was dressed in a most unusual manner; she did not wear a dress as did most of the women Celebrían knew. Instead, she wore leggings and a heavy leather apron. Underneath the apron she wore a sleeveless tunic fitted far more closely to her body than any style Celebrian had seen her mother wear. Unusual as her clothing was, it was her eyes that held Celebrian’s attention. They were leaf-green but shot through with gold. They were watchful and reminded Celebrían of the cats she sometimes saw in the streets of the city. “Come here, little one. We’ve not met before. I know your cousin and work with him. Are you looking for him or for someone else?”

“For him. For Celebrimbor,” her own voice sounded high-pitched and thin, shrill in comparison to the woman’s.

“And you are Celebrían? You are very well named. Your hair is a crown any queen would envy.”

She knew that she should respond to this compliment, thank the woman, but she wasn’t sure what she should say.

“Shall I take her to him?” the journeyman asked.

“No, I shall.”

“But ...”

“I do not mind. I am not in the middle of any task that cannot wait.”

The journeyman looked as though he was ready to disagree, but the woman extended her hand to her and said lightly, when Celebrían hesitated, “I am sorry that my hand is dirty, but I promise that it is only a little soot and that it will wash off.” Embarrassed, Celebrían took her hand.

They left the forges and made their way into the adjoining hall. The guildhall was a tall building, featuring a central hall but also including a variety of chambers designed for the use of the masters and the journeymen. Her cousin’s was the largest of these and occupied a corner space with glazed windows upon both sides, most often opened a little to capture the breeze. It was bright and cheerful, though often cluttered with many different books and papers and models of different tools and other inventions, and it was one of Celebrían’s most favorite places to visit. It was there that they went. The door was slightly ajar and she was able to hear her cousin speaking good humoredly with someone she guessed to be a dwarf. While her cousin’s voice was low, the one of the person with whom he was speaking was a deep rumble, not unlike thunder or the sound of a heavy fall of water.

“Come,” she heard her cousin say. “That is a most fair price.”

“With prices as fair as those, you’ll have us out of a home.”

“I’d not do that; your home is far too beautiful for anyone to force you from it.”

“Throw in a trinket or a tool of your or the lady’s crafting and we’ll considered it decided.”

“You may have my work. I cannot speak for Master Mairen.”

“But I can,” the woman standing at her side said, “and I see no harm in such an agreement. Greetings, Master Jewelsmith. It is well to have you in the city again. How long shall you stay?”

“Only a night or two more,” the voice rumbled in response. “The weather is clear for traveling, and a new discovery has been made. I am anxious to see where it leads, and, as much as I would otherwise like to tarry, I fear being caught in a winter storm.”

“Safe travels, then, and enjoy your discovery. Take care not to delve too deep, Master; old and strange things lurk in the roots of the mountains. It’s best to not to disturb their sleep.”

“We are always careful, my lady.”

“I’m no lady, friend, only a lowly craftswoman.”

The dwarf laughed. 


“Tyelperinquar, forgive me for interrupting your meeting, but you have a young and lovely visitor; she comes to you crowned in silver,” the woman opened the door and guided Celebrían into the office.  Celebrían noticed that, though she used the common tongue spoken by most elves in Ost-in-Edhil, she called her cousin by his name in the language he shared with her mother, the language that they spoke together and that her father did not.

Her cousin rose in greeting as did the figure seated before him. That figure was, indeed, a dwarf. The dwarf was a little less than half the height of her cousin and of the woman beside her, but far stockier than either of them, even Celebrimbor. His face was wrinkled and hidden by a very large and ornately braided beard. But his eyes were dark and lovely and shone with warmth and good humor.

“Andvari, may I present my cousin, Celebrian, daughter of the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel? Lady Celebrian, may I present one of the finest jewelsmiths I know?”

The dwarf bowed very low, so low his beard brushed the ground, and he smiled warmly at her as he straightened. She was uncertain how to respond, so she sank low into a curtsy and bowed her own head.

“Very graceful, my little lady,” said the dwarf. “I shall be on my way. I suspect you’ve things to discuss. Masters, I thank you for your assistance.” With a step Celebrían found to be surprising light for so stocky a figure, he walked out of the room and into the hall.

“She came to the forges in search of you,” the woman said quietly. “I think she must have something important she wishes to say.”

“I am always glad to see and hear my cousin,” Celebrimbor replied gently. “Mairen, have you introduced yourself to her?”

“No, I hadn't,” the woman answers. “I thought it best to bring her here.”

“Celebrian,” her cousin said easily, “this is Mairen. She came originally from the west and is here to work with and instruct the Mirdain. Mairen, this is my cousin, Celebrían.’

“Well met, little one,” the woman said softly. “I shall leave you two to speak. I’ll be in my study should you need me.” She stepped out of the room quietly. Celebrian watched but barely heard the door close behind her and heard no sound of her footfalls as she walked down the hall.

“What has brought you here, Celebrían? I’ve missed you but I thought your mother preferred I visited you at your home rather than you visit me here.”

“She does,” Celebrían answered quietly, looking down at the floor. She did not like for her cousin to chide her. He seldom did and, when he did, she knew she had done something she should not have. “It’s just ... I just wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you do, but I do not want your mother angry at either one of us. She can be fearsome when angry.”

Celebrían noticed that while her cousin’s voice was gentle and while he smiled, his smile did not reach his eyes which were often serious but now also seemed sad.

“She doesn’t need to know,” Celebrían continues, plucking at her dress. “I won’t tell her and you don’t have to tell her.”

“We cannot lie to her. At any rate, she will find out from someone in the street who spotted you on your way here or back home. It’s better I take you home and we tell her.”

He closed the ledger on his desk and then sifted a few papers into a neat stack and set it atop the ledger, covering both with a peculiar stone. It was smooth and heavily polished, the outer edge was dull but the inside contained rings of warm and vibrant color.

“You don’t come to see me anymore,” she said and hated herself for saying it. She sounded like a very little girl, almost a baby. He was busy, much like her mother was busy. He had important things to do; her mother had told her he did.

“I promise to find more time, my friend. I promise.”

“I wanted to invite you to come for the Midwinter feast.”

“Had you?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother did, but I do not think I am able to come this year. I will see you soon, though. We can go walking, we can look for some interesting things to see and find something to draw together.”

“Will it be only you or will you bring your friend?”

“Who? Mairen?”

“She’s pretty.”

“Is she? I suppose. She’s very clever and she knows a very great deal about very many things. But she is also very busy and I think it might be difficult for her to find time to come with us. Besides I haven’t seen you enough myself and am not yet ready to share you, even with Mairen. Will you wait here a moment? I need to tell her I am taking you home in case someone should need me.”

“Why? What will she do?”

“See to things here while I’m walking you home.”

“Is it odd for her to see to things?”

“Is it odd that your mother takes care of things in Ost-in-Edhil?”

“No.”

“Then why should it be strange for Mairen to do the same here?”

“Mother is special.”

“I know. She is exceptional.  So is Mairen in her own way. So too are you. I’ll only be a moment.”

He took his cloak from where it rested across one of the chairs and walked out of the room. Unlike Mairen, he hadn’t fully closed the door behind him and Celebrían heard the sound of his steps as he walked down the hall. She also heard him knock once at a door nearby and the musical voice answering. They spoke quietly for a short while; Celebrían heard the rise and fall of their voices, her cousin’s slightly louder than the woman’s, but was not able to make out the words. But then it seemed that her cousin and his friend had left her study and were walking towards his.

“Why would you not go?” she heard Mairen ask her cousin.

“You know why,” he replied. “Quiet, though, I don’t want Celebrían to know.”

“Celebrían? That’s why you should go.”

“For her? I’ll visit her another day.”

“You say that and you mean it, but you and I both know how engrossed you become in a new project and we both know how many we have. You shouldn’t postpone it; it will hurt her if you forget. She will be very happy if you agree.”

“I will not have my cousin decide who I am allowed to befriend and who I am not.”

Celebrían wasn’t sure what he meant. She had said nothing about her cousin’s friends, even the very loud ones among the Mírdain.

“But she may decide and fairly too who she will allow in her home. I am not angry about it, and, if I am not, you should not be.”

The woman’s voice was quiet, not intended to carry or to be heard. Had her cousin closed the door completely, she’d not have heard it.

“She means it as a slight.”

“Then do not recognize it as such. I will not be the cause of your estrangement from your family.”

“She made that decision. You didn’t.”

“But you do not need to avoid her out of anger or pride; you needn’t do the same thing she does. Go to the Midwinter Feast. See your cousin. See her child. Invite her and them to each and every gathering the Mírëtanor host. If there will be a separation between you, let it be her doing. Do not do it for her. Not for me. I won’t be the cause.”

“Mairen, she means to insult you. Every other person of significance will be there. Everyone but you.”

“Isn’t it my choice whether I am insulted? I choose not to be bothered.”

“But ...”

“I will be fine; you needn't stay to keep me company.   One of the journeymen has invited me to feast with his family, and I think it a good time to learn more about the craftsmen of the Mírëtanor and their people. If the feast ends early, come join me there.  I suspect we will be later, and I am certain they would welcome you.”

She listened while her cousin paced.

“Tyelpe, this isn’t worth the fight. See your family. Be with them. You spend more than enough time working with me as it is. I should think you’d want time away.”

The pacing stopped.

“Go get the girl and take her home. Do you want me to tell her goodbye or is it better that I don’t?”

She didn’t hear his reply.

He opened the door, noting that it was slightly ajar, and then called to her.

“Celebrían, let’s see you home.”

She walked out the door towards them. Her cousin waited for her outside the door. The woman stood beside him, her hand lightly on her cousin’s arm. She was smiling, and, unlike her cousin’s, her smile was reflected in her green-gold eyes.

“Safe journey home, my new friend,” the woman said, her voice still light and still woven with music and laughter. “I am glad we met. How did you come in to the forges today? Did you come through the door in the back? The one in the alley? Or from the front?

“The front, my lady. I did not know there was a back way.”

“It’s Mairen, not my lady,” the woman leaned down to look directly at her and her smile changed, it became smaller, less open, the kind Celebrían saw on her friends’ faces when they shared a secret. “You did not? Tyelpe, why not take her out that way? She might find it interesting. It’s not used much, and it is an easier way to come and go if you don’t want anyone to see.”

Celebrían noticed that her cousin watched the woman closely and seemed about to say something to her, but shook his head and said only, “Very well, Mairen. I’ll take her that way, but you shouldn’t chastise me for creating trouble.”

“I am trying to avoid it; it’s better she knows about it if she intends to visit again,” said Mairen. She looked away from Celebrían to Celebrimbor and said softly, “Listen to me, friend. Listen.”

He nodded once and then took Celebrían’s hand, leading her from the hall. The woman remained standing quietly in the hall before his study.

The journey home was quick but lovely. Her cousin lifted her and carried her on his shoulders and he laughed in response to the stories she told and the people and thing she pointed out to him. They walked quickly through the streets from the busy thoroughfares near in the guilds to the quieter streets closer to where she lived. She passed her cousin’s home, neat and bright, and she noticed that her favorite home, located on the corner of street between her cousin’s home and her own, appeared to be occupied. It had long been vacant since its old owner had left for the Havens, and it had a walled garden in which Celebrían had played when she was much younger. She began to ask her cousin about it but he had turned to greet someone on the street and she forgot about it.

Not long after they turned the corner to the street on which she lived with her mother and father, her cousin tapped her shoulder.

“Ah,” her cousin said, pointing ahead. “We may be in luck. Here’s your father. We might escape without too much trouble.”

She saw her father walking in their direction. He seemed to have spotted them too and was hurrying in their direction.

“Did she come to see you? Was she there?” her father asked.

“Yes, she came to see me,” he cousin said. “Mairen found her in the forges and brought her to me.”

“She found her?”

“A journeyman found me, papa, and then the lady noticed. My cousin says she works with him and is clever,” she told him.

“I believe she is,” her father answered.

“They would have to meet at some point,” her cousin said quietly.

“I know,” her father replied. “I’m glad she found her and brought her to you. Dearest, I am glad you were able to see you cousin and glad he brought you home, but you know you aren’t to leave the house without telling your mother or me. You also know you aren’t to visit your cousin without us. We’ve been a little too careless allowing you among the forges unsupervised.”

“She’s never been ..” her cousin began and then stopped himself at a look from her father.

“What was so important that you felt you should ignore this?” her father continued.

“I wanted to invite him to the feast.”

“You knew he had been and was unable to come.”

“I thought he might change his mind if I asked.”

“Did he?” asked her father, looking at Celebrimbor and not at her.

“I did,” her cousin said quietly. “I would be happy to be my young cousin’s guest at her favorite feast.”

“Dearest,” her father continued, his voice was calm but she knew him well and knew this was the voice he used when he was worried, “did you ask anyone else?”

“No, father, I know I am not supposed to invite someone without asking permission first,” she replied, “You had already asked him. I was only repeating it.”

Her father did not answer but looked at her cousin. Celebrimbor replied quietly, “She invited no one else.“

He seemed unhappy again, and her father seemed a little sad too. Their expressions reminded her of the moments after she had argued with a friend. They might have apologized but some hurt remained, and she had often found it difficult to talk with them again.

Her cousin seemed about to leave, but she tugged at her father’s arm and asked if they might not invite her cousin to come inside. Her father nodded and asked if he would not like to come in and talk. She thought her cousin might say he needed to return, so she said, “Please. The lady said she would take care of things while you were gone. You haven’t been here in a very long time.”

“For a little while, then,” he replied, still looking at her father, but he followed her inside.