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Chapter Text

The golden leaves of Lindon covered the ground in drifts. Now and then a gust would spin a few leaves into the air, high above the others, dappling the sunlight.

Celebrimbor sat on a stone bench under the trees, alone. His face was gaunt, but he wore a fine robe of silver blue and his hair was well kept. He stared unseeing at the leaves. His hand- the one missing the thumb- he laid on his lap, hidden by the long sleeves of his robes.

Gil-galad found him there, as he knew he would. He sat next to him and stared at the leaves for a long moment. Celebrimbor did not acknowledge his presence, but he didn't startle when Gil-galad spoke.

"The delegation will be here tonight. I would consider it a favor to me if you were to attend the banquet."

There was a long moment of silence before Celebrimbor spoke.

"I doubt it will matter much to Thranduil if I am there or not." His voice was rough from disuse.

"It likely won't matter to Pince Thranduil," Gil-galad said, emphasizing the title slightly, "But it matters to me. You spend too much time alone these days, it isn't good for you."

"I would rather be alone than surrounded by those who treat me as if I am to be pitied or-or guarded against."

Gil-galad sighed. The reactions of the elves to one who had been so deceived by their enemy were not intended to be unkind, but nothing he had done as Celebrimbor's King or as his friend had changed the way suspicion followed the man since his rescue from his forge in Eregion.

"Still, I would have you come, even for a short while. If you are able."

"I will see if I can manage it." he said. After a beat he added, "It is kind of you to think of me, when you have so much else on your mind."

"I am a King," Gil-galad agreed. "And that comes with many responsibilities. But I am also your friend. I cannot manage one well without attending to the other. Please come."

Celebrimbor nodded, "I will. I may not stay long, but I will come for a while."

"That is all I ask. Come have a glass of wine with our guests." Gil-galad stood. He clapped a hand on Celebrimbor's shoulder for a moment, before he strode off through the leaves. Celebrimbor watched him go, despite himself. The gold of the King's robes was nearly a match for the golden leaves falling through the air. At another time, he might have taken inspiration from the image. But that had been before.

Months had passed while Celebrimbor laid in bed, recovering from his torture at the hands of Annatar- Sauron. The Dwarven army of Khazad-dum had arrived not a moment too soon for him; the chaos bringing Sauron away from the forge just long enough that he was found.

There were scars, many scars, but Celebrimbor was grateful that those at least were mostly covered by his robes. His hand he could not cover, not always, and he hated looking at it. Hated the reminder of how far Sauron had taken him before he began to fight back. He hated how he had been forced to sacrifice his hands- the tools of his craft- and it hadn't even mattered in the end. Sauron had still gotten the nine. And Celebrimbor had survived. Now he roamed the halls of Lindon like a ghost- displaced from his city and from his life. Most days, he felt displaced from life itself, as if he truly were a ghost and not the still-living victim. He knew Gil-galad worried that he would fade- had even offered to send him over the sea, but Celebrimbor had refused.

When he finally returned to his rooms, they were dim. The afternoon sun's oblique slant colored half of Lindon in pure gold, but his rooms were on the opposite side of the palace, at his request. At this hour, they were bathed with a cooling blue. It suited his mood. The banquet was due to begin soon- already Prince Thranduil of the Greenwood had arrived with his delegation. Celebrimbor had still been sitting on the bench and the sound of hooves on the flagstones had rung out even to where he was sitting. He had imagined Thranduil- Prince Thranduil of the Greenwood- astride his ridiculous elk, and snorted. He was in a gloomy mood, but he would have to be dead not to at least snort at such a mount. He idly wondered if all the hoofbeats had been elk- a whole great company of them- or if the King's retinue rode horses. He almost felt amused imagining the stables trying to care for a hundred elk. But then he remembered why the Prince of the Greenwood had come; alliances needed to be strengthened in times of war. The Silvan elves of the Greenwood were sovereign to themselves, considering themselves outside of Gil-galad's rule. It appeared the High King of the Noldor was agreeing to that term. For now, at least. 

A light knock sounded on the door and a young elf servant stuck his head in.

"Are you ready to dress for the banquet, my lord?"

"Yes, I suppose. Come in." Celebrimbor would go to the banquet as a favor to Gil-galad. He would have one glass of wine. He supposed he could mope in his rooms later.

The servant stepped into the rooms, squinting, and Celebrimbor realized that he had neglected to light even a single lamp. I already am moping around- in the dark like a complete fool, he thought. He fumbled with the lamp on his small table, but the servant took it from him with a slight bow and lit it. The light flared to brightness and momentarily blinded him, thankfully giving him an excuse to look away. He felt acutely embarrassed now whenever anyone saw how difficult even the simplest tasks were for him. He had taken ambidexterity for granted and hardly ever used his left hand before. Now it was proving difficult to re-learn.

When he looked back, he realized the servant was already across the room laying out a robe on his bed- a deep rich green worked around the collar with orange leaves and ornate scroll-work worked in golden thread. It was new. He had not seen it before and stepped closer, unable to stop himself from admiring the embroidery.

"The High King had them made specially for the highest Lords. To match the season in the Greenwood, I think.  All different, of course, but from what I've seen, they all have these leaves of one color or another. If there truly are that many shades of leaves in the Greenwood in the fall, then I would dearly love to see it someday."

The servant moved around the room, neatening as he went, talking the whole time about the delegation and the banquet. Before long the room was clean and Eryndor- that was his name- was waiting patiently by the bed to help him dress. He had tended Celebrimbor during his recovery and often helped him dress. Of all of the servants, Eryndor was his favorite, the only servant who did not treat him with pity or suspicion. Somehow liking Eryndor did not make this less humiliating. He decided to talk to distract himself.

"Eryndor, did you see the delegation when they arrived?"

Eryndor nodded.

"Can you tell me, was anyone besides Thranduil- Prince Thranduil- riding an elk?"

"No, my lord. The guards were riding horses." He grinned suddenly. "The prince's elk is massive- if anyone else had been riding them, I doubt they would fit down the road, unless they went in single file." He picked up a towel and handed it to Celebrimbor. "That elk is so large that some people might think the prince might be compensating for something. Not me, but some people. People with fewer manners."

Celebrimbor chuckled, despite himself. He liked Eryndor and hoped the young man did indeed get to leave Lindon someday and have all the adventures he was always talking about.

He let Eryndor finish dressing him and dismissed him to enjoy the festivities.

Alone, he turned towards the mirror. He grimaced at his reflection- gaunt, gaunt and tired. At least his hair still fell nicely. One advantage of wearing his hair short was that he did not need an attendant to style it. The only advantage now, he thought, and then berated himself for it. That was all behind him. He had decided the day he had awoken after the horrible nightmare in the forge that he would never pick up a hammer again. No, his life was defined by a strict dividing line now- there was before and there was now. He tried not to let his mind fill in the missing name it but it echoed in his head regardless- before Sauron. There was before Sauron and there was after him, and Celebrimbor was determined to focus only on the after, whatever that may be.

Tonight that meant attending a banquet. He took one last look at himself in the tall mirror and straightened his back. It was past time to get this over with.

Ninaelhel paced her borrowed room, waiting to be summoned to the banquet. She was filled with a restless energy, barely restraining her urge to leave her rooms unguided and wander the halls of Lindon. Tonight, she would resist; it would not look good for Prince Thranduil if she was missing when they were to make their entrance. Or if she were caught somewhere she shouldn't be. She sighed and made another circuit of the room, passing the mirror and pausing a moment to admire her gown. It was deep forest green and worked here and there with leaves worked in silver, gold, and burnt orange thread. It fell loosely from her shoulders in the style of Lindon and covered her curves, but it was so beautifully made that she didn't mind. Normally she would wear something a little more form fitting- curves were not as common among the Eldar as they were in other races. She enjoyed the way she looked, but also the way the pulled focus away from her hair. It fell in long golden-brown waves past her waist but had an uncanny ability to tangle and snarl- especially if she attempted to wear any of the hair jewelry favored by many elves. She had given up any attempt at that or at intricate styling long ago and now only wore it loose, braided, or as she wore it tonight- with two strands pulled back from her face and tied with a silver cord.

There was a knock on the door and Tindomiel, the captain of Thranduil's guard, stuck her head in.

"It's time." She said.

"Thank the gods," Ninaelhel replied, and followed her out into the hallway.

The large hall was ornately decorated with swaths of light gold and silver silk and all manner of leaves and flowers. Greenery was everywhere- in large vases and draped above doorways. The elves of the Greenwood entered and were soon lost in the riot of color and rich fabric that clothed the party guests. Ninaelhel stood on tiptoe, trying to see above the crowd, but it was no use. She accepted a glass of wine from a tray and began a slow circle of the room. Through a gap in the crowd, she spotted Thranduil.

Prince Thranduil wore silver robes embroidered with silver leaves that caught the light when he moved. His long silver hair shone. He sat on a raised dais that held two thrones. In the other sat an elf who was the prince's opposite-dark haired and clad in golden robes that glittered under the light of a hundred lamps. Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor. Ninaelhel thought they looked like the sun and the moon- silver and gold and distant. Gil-galad looked much the same as he had when they had come through the gates and into Lindon. She wondered if he always wore gold.

Behind Prince Thranduil she could see Malon and Canarfin. The twin brothers were almost always chosen as the King's own personal guard. King Oropher had leant them to his son for this occasion. They were an intimidating pair- tall and lean and dark. They reminded her of leopards, at least until they spoke. Canarfin's voice was quiet and melodic, and Maron's laugh sounded like a donkey. They were as much like brother to her as Thranduil. Canarfin saw her and winked, returning almost instantly to his stoic demeanor.

Ninaelhel wandered the crowd, sipping her glass of wine carefully and enjoying the scene. She loved to people watch, and tonight was the perfect night for it. Every elf she saw was dressed in finery and they swirled and moved about each other like eddies in a river.

The night was warm, and the press of the crowd made the hall a bit claustrophobic. She passed one of the doors to the hall and noticed that it had been propped open, likely to give air to the night's festivities. She made her way through it and found herself on a large stone balcony.

She took a deep breath. The air was cool after the close warmth of bodies. A light breeze brushed her face and played with her hair.

Full night had fallen, and stars filled the sky above her as she walked down the length of the balcony, taking everything in. She walked to the railing and looked out over Lindon- the golden forest in darkness, except for where open doors and windows made bright beams across the leaves.

She trailed her hand on the railing as she walked. Abruptly, she realized she was not alone. There was a man ahead of her. He was leaning on the balcony, a glass of wine in his hand. His face was turned away from her as he stared out into the dark. He was vaguely familiar. Looking at him, she felt a sense of heavy sadness. He seemed to carry the weight of the world in the lines of his body.

She stopped her progress along the balcony some distance from him and looked out over the landscape. She saw movement from the corner of her eye- the man looked at her.

"My lord." She said, inclining her head in a bow. His fine robe spoke of someone important.

He turned toward her, studying her. "You are one of Prince Thranduil's retinue."

It wasn't a question. "Yes, I am Ninaelhel, a ward of  King Oropher."

He nodded and went back to leaning against the balcony. She mirrored him, taking in the stars that shone brightly now that she was further away from the light pouring from the banquet hall. They stood in silence for a moment before he seemed to realize that she wasn't going to continue along down the balcony.

"Are you enjoying the party? I suppose not, since you are out here."

"I am, but I felt a need for some air. I enjoy people-watching, but it is very warm in there."

He seemed to think about that for a moment before nodding. It didn't seem like he was going to say anything else. For a reason she couldn't identify, she didn't want to end the conversation. Perhaps it was because he looked so sorrowful.

"When my friends on the guard are free during diplomatic banquets, we like to play a game where we make up stories about who the people attending are. What they do, where they are from, how they ended up at the party- that kind of thing. They guard the prince tonight though, so I'm on my own."

"What story would you tell about me?"

Ninaelhel turned to fully face the man. He did the same, allowing her to study him.

"You are an artist." She paused for a moment, considering. "Yes, an artist. But you have lost your muse, who was your one true love. That is why you are out here alone, instead of inside."

He looked startled. "You are half right, or more than half, I suppose. I am-was- a smith."

Ninaelhel felt her stomach sink as recognition dawned. A foolish mistake, not expecting elves of legend to be in attendance. "You are Lord Celebrimbor. I did not realize." She bowed lower to him than she had before. He was accounted greatest among Elven smiths, though now much of what was spoken about him concerned the fall of his fair city.

He began to raise his hand to wave off her apology at but stopped the gesture partway through tucking his hand back into the folds of his sleeve. "It is alright. I did ask you to tell me a story about myself. I just did not realize it would truly be about me. You are very good- what made you think I was an artist?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Your eyes, the way they looked at the valley below. Studying it. Also," she paused, but he gestured for her to continue (with his left hand this time, she noted). "You are not a warrior, unless I am mistaken."

He chuckled softly at that. "No, you are not mistaken. Do I really look so lost and forlorn then? No, on second thought, don't answer that."

He looked over and saw his abandoned wine glass on the balcony and picked it up, draining whatever was left in one drink.

"Well, I think on that note I will take my leave. It does not seem that I am in the mood for a party this evening. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Ninaelhel."

"Just Ninaelhel."

"Ninaelhel," He inclined his head toward her. "Please enjoy the rest of your evening." He moved past her, back toward the open doors with their bright golden light radiating from inside.

"I hope I will see you again before I leave, Lord Celebrimbor." She said, turning to face him. She felt strangely bereft of his company. "After all, you haven't had your turn at the game yet."

 "I am not sure I would be very good at your game." He said over his shoulder.

"There is only one way to find out." She called after him, and she could swear she heard him give a small chuckle.

Chapter Text

Celebrimbor returned to his rooms, but found he was restless. The Silvan elf's words ran through his mind; her assessment of him cut keener than he wanted to admit. Frustration filled him then, frustration at the lack of an outlet for his energy. Frustration at his stupid hand for making him useless. Frustration at himself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. All Sauron had had to do was appeal to his vanity and pride and he had been lost to sense. He had jumped into the abyss with both feet as surely as he took the steps down to the great hall that morning. He never felt the loss of the forge- of his thumb and of his nerve- more keenly. 

Maybe. Maybe there was a way back to himself. Maybe he could pick up a hammer again. Again be an artist. Maybe the last great work of Celebrimbor could be something other than the doom of Middle Earth. The idea of returning to the forge made him feel sick to his stomach, but there was a thrill of excitement buried under the queasiness. It was what he knew, a familiar port in a storm. So much of his life had become unrecognizable. He had become unrecognizable. 

He left his rooms. 

The morning after the grand welcoming banquet was clear and cool. Ninaelhel wandered the grounds nearly alone, the sun rising through the golden treetops. 

She had spent the night thinking about Lord Celebrimbor. She had asked a few of the Lindon guards about him, in a roundabout way, and it seemed he rarely left his rooms except to sit in the forest. She learned that he had been tortured during the fall of Eregion, by none other than Sauron himself, and had nearly lost his life. That, and his ancestry, seemed to have led to an abiding suspicion of him in Lindon. It seemed there was much to the man she had found staring at the valley under the stars. 

She casually meandered down the path one of the Lindon guards had told her of, pretending to happen upon it by chance. She did not really think he would be sitting on the bench at this early hour. 

Still, she was disappointed when she found the bench empty. She sat down and found herself confronted with what it was that he must look at when he sat on this bench. It was a grave monument. If her sense of direction was correct, then this was also what he had been looking at last night. She leaned forward and stood up, curiosity getting the better of her. 

She stepped from the path and approached the stone statue of a woman. She had been young and fair and had been depicted holding a hammer in one hand and a small metal ingot in the other. The ingot was made of real silver, not yet tarnished with the exposure to the elements. Ninaelhel reached out to touch it.

Leaves crunched behind her, and she jumped, turning around to see Lord Celebrimbor standing behind her. 

She pulled her hand away from the statue and bowed formally. 

He inclined his head at her. She noticed that he carefully did not look at the statue. She wondered who the woman had been. Maybe she had been his muse, or his lover. 

"Good morning, Lord Celebrimbor."

"Good morning just Ninaelhel." He seemed to be in a better mood this morning. "A palace guard told me I could find you here."

Her cheeks colored. "I thought I would take a look around the grounds, the trees are so beautiful."

He took a moment to look around, as if seeing them for the first time. "They are, aren't they? Very different from the trees in the Greenwood?"

She nodded. "We have trees with golden leaves, but only in the fall. And none are quite this bright." What he said finally caught up to her. "You were looking for me?"

"Ah, yes. I wanted to take my turn at your game. I do not like being in anyone's debt."

She smiled. The idea of being in debt to someone for not taking your turn in a game was- charming. She felt slightly disarmed, but not in a bad way. She spread her arms, "Feel free." She slowly turned around for him, making a show of it.

He focused on her, his hand coming to rest on his chin. She wondered if this was what his creations felt like- getting this much of his focus. 

She was wearing another of her new dresses today, lighter than last night's velvet robe but no less beautiful. This one was a very light blue and fell in many layers to the ground. It was belted with a silver belt that had small silver leaves dangling on chains spaced evenly across the links. She had left her hair loose and wore no other jewelry. 

Celebrimbor straightened. "Alright, I am ready. You are an unknown Princess of the Greenwood, come with your brother in hopes that you will charm the High King and strengthen the alliance with a marriage."

She couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped her.  "An excellent guess, but unfortunately, wrong on all accounts."

"Really? On all accounts. "

"All accounts. First, I am hardly a Princess, as I have already told you, I am a ward of the King, nothing more. And I hardly think the High King has any interest in me- he seemed far more interested in the timber the Greenwood has to offer than any proposition of marriage."

 "That does sound like Ereinion, I'll admit. So, you are truly not a princess?"

"No, I am an orphan who the King has kindly taken in."

"Well, that does explain why you have been left to wander the grounds instead of being led around by an attendant- I passed Prince Thranduil and the High King having breakfast already this morning."

She smiled. "I am sorry to have missed that. Indeed, I am usually allowed to wander, as long as I do not get into trouble."

"Is that something that happens often?"

She nodded. "I nearly always find myself somewhere I shouldn't be when left to my own devices. I love to explore."

He smiled at her, a genuine warm smile. "I do too. Perhaps I can show you some of my favorite places in Lindon during your visit?"

She nodded. "I would like that."

"Are you free now? I was planning on going to the library- it is one of the largest in Middle Earth, would you like to see it?"

"I would- I did not realize it would be open to guests."

“It is. As I understand it, Lindon has the largest library in Middle-earth.”

He beckoned and she joined him on the path. He was looking better this morning than he had been the night before.

Lindon's library was large enough that it warranted its own massive stone building separate from the palace. The tall white building with its fluted columns rose out of the golden woods in front of them. He walked up the steps and pushed open the door, letting her inside. 

The library was silent in the morning sunlight. Ninaelhel walked through the doors and entryway past Celebrimbor into the main library. 

It was beautiful. Tall, dark wooden shelves lined the walls and stood in rows in the huge room. Every shelf was packed with books. There were more books in this room than Ninaelhel had seen in her entire life. More than she imagined existed. She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. She drifted towards a nearby shelf, the spines of books calling to her with their gold and silver titles. Beautiful books for a beautiful place. How did anyone ever stand living in Lindon when everything was so beautiful? 

She turned to Celebrimbor. "What am I allowed to read?"

"Anything. Everything. The librarian will let you take almost anything as long as you return it, and the books that have to stay in the library have been chained down or encased in glass." 

Ninaelhel turned back to the shelf and ran her hand gently along the spines until she found one she wanted to read. She pulled it down and opened the cover, immediately being pulled into the words on the page. 

Celebrimbor watched her with fascination. He had seen that same look on the faces of his most dedicated smiths. For a painful moment, the light from the high window sparkled in her hair in a way that reminded him of Mirdania. He took a steadying breath, and the moment passed. She was Ninaelhel again. She had abandoned the first book and was holding two now- one in each hand, silently debating between them and completely absorbed. He doubted she would notice if the whole shelf fell on her. He quickly located the book he had been coming to borrow and left a note for the librarian. Returning to the space where the shelves converged, he found Ninaelhel had barely moved. He watched her for a few moments before quietly letting himself out of the library.  She didn't hear him leave.

Ninaelhel was so absorbed in the library that she nearly missed luncheon. Only her growling stomach alerted her to how much time had passed. She left the library and nearly ran into Tindomiel. 

"I was just looking for you, Ninaelhel. You are late for your luncheon with the King.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up. Have you seen this library?"

Tindomiel shook her head. "I've seen libraries before- rooms full of books. What's to see? How did you find it? Wandering around where you shouldn't be again?"

"Lord Celebrimbor took me to it."

Tindomiel stopped so short that Ninaelhel nearly bumped into her. She turned to stare at Ninaelhel. "Lord Celebrimbor? As in the ?"

"I met him last night, at the banquet." She started walking and Tindomiel fell into step beside her. 

"And he just offered to show you the library?" Ninaelhel could hear her raised eyebrow in her voice. They were not friends, exactly, but friendly acquaintances. They had grown up together, but duty was heavy on Tindomiel and she had spent more time admonishing Ninaelhel than befriending her.  

Ninaelhel shrugged. She didn't feel like going into the details of the game with her captain. "Yeah, I ran into him on the grounds and he offered to show me. It's so sad what happened in Eregion. He seems kind."

Tindomiel gave her a look. 

"It's not like that. He's just interesting to talk to."

"I'm sure he is, he's a genius. He's also the reason Eregion was attacked, and the reason why defenses weren't prepared in time. I don't think you should be spending time with him. It doesn't look well on the prince."

Ninaelhel snorted. "I'm not spending time with him, he just showed me the library. Besides, Thranduil hardly cares how I spend my time." 

"I also heard he assisted Sauron in crafting some great weapon that he will now use against us, and all of Middle Earth. And, lest you forget, he is a Feanorian ." She said it as a curse word, which it was in some parts of the Greenwood. The long memories of the elves were unlikely to forget the invasion of the Noldor over the sea. 

Ninaelhel opened her mouth to reply, but they had reached the palace proper and were surrounded by the bustle of palace servants and guards. She followed Tindomiel through the halls and into a long dining room where the meal was being set. 

Thranduil rose and greeted her, inviting her to sit beside him. She bowed to the High King and sat, trying to find the flow of the conversation that had already started. She mostly listened and barely spoke- she had little interest in trade and battle and those two topics dominated the conversation. If she was honest, she would admit she was hardly paying attention, her mind kept turning to Lord Celebrimbor. She wondered why he intrigued her so much. He was certainly handsome, but it was more than that. A lot of men were handsome, but she didn't want to talk to them the way she did him. She felt as though some part of her called some part of him. Maybe we're both misfits , she thought, and nearly snorted. Lord Celebrimbor, greatest of Elven smiths- a misfit. She had read too many stories. Still, there was truth to what Tindomiel had said. He was Feanorian, and there was a great deal of suspicion surrounding him after the fall of Eregion. It was unwarranted, if what the guards had said about Sauron torturing him had been true, but all the same, it lingered. Perhaps they were both set apart in the same way- him a fallen figure of legend, and her an orphan who was not quite a Lady but also not a peasant. There was some symmetry there, she thought. Whatever Tindomiel said, she was certainly going to seek him out again. 

Chapter Text

"Her name was Mirdania." He said. "She was a smith under me in Eregion." 

Ninaelhel had found Celebrimbor sitting on the bench when her guard duty was over. Tindomiel had given her a look when she had ducked out of the palace after the meal, but she had ignored it. She actually wanted to take in the scenery and relax. Royal luncheons were hardly restful. Part of her had been glad to see Lord Celebrimbor, but a larger part of her was disturbed that he was again sitting across from the memorial. The guard she had asked had not lied, that really seemed to be how he spent much of his time. 

She looked up at the statue, wondering what the woman had been like.

"I am sorry. You must have known her well."

He looked up at the statue. "I taught her everything she knew. She apprenticed under me for many years until there were things she had surpassed even me in. In a way, she was like a daughter to me."

Ninaelhel reached out and traced the hammer in her hand. "Do you think she would be sad that you no longer create?" That had been the other thing the Lindon guard had told her- that Lord Celebrimbor no longer smithed. She snapped her mouth shut; she had not meant to say that out loud. 

Celebrimbor was silent. She looked at him nervously and saw that his face was thoughtful. At last, he spoke. "You are probably right. I do not know if I can smith again," He gestured to indicate his hand with the missing digit. "But maybe there is a way to atone for what I've done."

"I find it hard to imagine a way to atone that is anything but smithing." She had already begun to speak her mind, might as well continue. 

He turned to her, "Why?"

She risked a joke. "Because you are not a warrior."

He laughed, a bright sound that surprised her. It seemed to surprise him as well. He rose from the bench and walked a few steps before stopping and calling over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"

Ninaelhel had to trot to catch up with him. "Where are we going?"

"To find somewhere to build a new forge. I already looked at the one here in Lindon and it's all wrong."

"You had already decided to start smithing again."

It wasn't a question. "Yes. After I met you on the balcony the other night, actually."

"What she wanted to say was, why ? But his resolution seemed fragile somehow. All she could think to say was, "Good."

"I hope so." He replied.  

Ninaelhel spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the grounds with Celebrimbor. He showed her the different buildings of the palace and the groves of trees and fountains. He had nearly had to tear her away from the grove of memorial statues, once she had realized who they depicted. He had been surprised to discover how little of the history of the Noldor had been taught in the lore halls of the Greenwood. He probably should not have been. He delighted in telling Ninaelhel a few tales that she pretended did not impress her, but her eyes were large. 

Once he had declared the perfect spot for a new forge to be built it was early evening and he bowed to her and released her. He had not meant to keep her that long but in truth he would have kept her longer if it weren't so inappropriate. They were meant to show their guests hospitality, but even he had to admit that spending an entire day with her was probably a bit much. Still, he had enjoyed her company. Her smile was like a light, and she laughed and joked with him the way most people didn't anymore. Showing her around the grounds of Lindon had reminded him of being Lord of Eregion and playing host to foreign dignitaries. Then the joy had been of showing his designs come to life to an appreciative audience, but it turned out it was no less fun when he had not been the designer.  

Ninaelhel sat down on her bed and removed her boots, throwing them next to a chair. She rubbed at her feet - she had not realized how much she had walked all day with Lord Celebrimbor. The man simply didn't tire. Unbidden, the thought came to her that he likely didn't tire in other ways. She covered her face with her hands, embarrassed at the thought even though she was alone. She had to be careful with thoughts like that- what if she had one when she was with him? She put the thought from her mind. She would behave like a proper foreign dignitary. She had been raised in a palace, after all. 

She took off her dress and laid it over the chair, sighing at the damage she had done to the hem. How did the elves of Lindon get anything done in these dresses? They were so long and cumbersome. She resolved to wear some of her own clothing tomorrow and got ready for bed.

Snuggling into her blankets, she let her mind wander over the day. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself - wandering Lindon with Lord Celebrimbor and hearing all the history and stories. It was a beautiful place- not more so than the palace in the Greenwood, but entirely different. She wondered if Lord Celebrimbor would be free tomorrow as well. It was not strictly appropriate to take up so much of the elf lord's time, but she didn't mind flouting propriety that much. And he had seemed in better spirits than when she had met him. Perhaps he was just lonely and needed the company as much as she did. 

Chapter Text

The perfect spot had been chosen and the foundations of the forge were already beginning to take shape. Celebrimbor stood in the middle of the pit and turned slowly, taking it in. Around him elves worked to square the hole in the ground and masons measured blocks of stone. It would be smaller than the great forge he had built in Eregion, and simpler. It suited him. Tall windows would let in gilded afternoon light that would shine and sparkle on the metal and gems as he worked. They would be large and made of clear glass so that he could always see the trees outside and the passage of the sun in the sky. 

Celebrimbor felt the pit in his stomach growing heavier and heavier as time passed. He had been excited to design the forge, happy to have some project again to work on and think about. But now it felt as though it was happening too fast. Too soon the forge would be finished- the work crew had said his design would only take a matter of weeks. He feared it as much as he hoped for it-the golden light, the neat room with its simple beauty- it would be almost uncanny in its perfection. He remembered the feeling of pride when he had finished the great forge at Eregion. Standing on the threshold and seeing everything perfect and real and exactly as he had designed it. 

Sauron was here. He was trapped again in an illusion. Any moment he would step out from the doorway and light the fire. He would hand Celebrimbor the hammer. He would demand and cajole and convince. Celebrimbor had to get away, had to leave the forge before he came back. He no longer saw the pit or the stones being laid by the masons. He only saw that perfect room. He had to get away, he walked toward the door -

He collided with Ninaelhel, her hands full with two mugs of tea, a book tucked under her arms. The mugs fell and shattered, sending shards of porcelain and drops of tea everywhere. Ninaelhel dropped her book into the beginnings of mud. Celebrimbor raised his hands, but whether to apologize or push her out of the way, he did not know. 

She looked at him then and saw the panic in his eyes. Reaching out, she took his arms firmly and pulled him out, out of the pit and across the boundary of the foundation. Out onto the grass and into the clean air. He gasped out a sob and fell, but she caught him and held him against her. Her arms were stronger than they looked and she maneuvered him easily, bringing him down to the soft ground with her. 

"Breathe." She said it softly, but it was a command. His breath was stuttered and too fast; he forced himself to slow it, to take smooth even breaths. He was outside, he was safe. 

"That's it. Just keep breathing." She helped him sit up as he felt calm returning. He noticed inanely that there was tea all down the front of her dress.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright." She said it offhandedly, "It happens sometimes." She looked back at him and met his eyes. "To those that have been in battle. They will wake up in the night and think they are still there. Or there will be a smell, a sound. Something. I have heard some of the older warriors of the Greenwood speak of it.”

He turned that over in his mind. "I am not used to thinking of- of what happened to me as a battle."

She stood and offered him her hand, pulling him up easily.

"You are very strong." 

"I have to be." His face must have betrayed confusion because she continued, "I fight with two swords instead of one. Each of my arms must be able to handle a blow that most parry with two. I train daily on it."

"I didn't realize you were a warrior."

She laughed. "I'm not. Or no more than anyone in the Greenwood is. Our borders are...wilder than yours are here. One must have some skill at defending themselves if they wish to venture beyond the walls of the palace. King Oropher had me begin training as soon as I could hold a practice blade."

"That is impressive. I never would have taken you for a master of swordcraft in your fine gowns." He teased gently, feeling more like himself now that he was out in the fresh air and not alone. With her , he realized suddenly, it was that she was here that made him feel on even keel again. She was a steadying presence. 

"I only wear those here or at parties. I'm not wearing one now."

He looked down at her outfit, "No, I guess you're not."

She adjusted her hair self-consciously, for the first time realizing how much more revealing her Greenwood clothing was than the diaphanous dresses of Lindon. She wore soft brown leggings under a thin dress that had splits on both sides of the front all the way to the thigh, allowing her to move. The top bodice of the dress laced up in the front and was much lower cut than her Lindon gowns had been. 

He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. "Is this the fashion of the Greenwood?"

"I guess so." Ninaelhel would not let herself be embarrassed by her dress. It was perfectly appropriate. 

"Well it looks a lot nicer when it's not covered in, what is that? Wine?" A male voice came from behind them, and they both turned around to see one of the tall Greenwood guards.

"It's tea. And shut up." Ninaelhel said. 

"Wow now, is that any way to talk to me in front of one of them ." He stage whispered. "I thought we were supposed to be making a good impression, not showing them we really are a bunch of savages."

"I doubt you could make a good impression if you tried. Lord Celebrimbor, this is Canarfin, one of the King's guards."

Canarfin bowed deeply. "It is truly an honor, sir. I have heard so much about you."

Celebrimbor felt a bit out of his depth. In Lindon, he was still greatly respected to his face, but there was always a bit of unease in the deference. As though people didn't trust him, or worse, pitied him. The elves from the Greenwood were likely no different, but they seemed to work harder at hiding their opinions. He figured that it had something to do with the old Sindarin versus Nolder history. For some reason the thought that he was no more hated than any of his kind made him like the Greenwood elves more. 

"Ah, well, thank you. I hope you have heard good things." He responded lamely. 

Canarfin straightened. "Of course- it is all over the Greenwood how you fought the-"

"Canarfin." Ninaelhel's tone was sharp as she cut him off. "Are you not due for duty soon?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Duty calls. I bid you good day, Lord Celebrimbor." He bowed low and left them, crossing the grass with an easy grace that Celebrimbor had always envied in the warriors around him. 

He wanted to ask about what Canarfin had been about to say, but he felt exhaustion from his panic attack start to creep in.

Looking down at himself he said, "I guess I should change as well."

"Sorry about that," she said. "I thought you might want some while you watched the builders. It is a chill day."

"Tea would have been nice, perhaps another time." 

"Indeed. Perhaps we can have some in the forge when it is built, if I visit Lindon again." He felt a twinge of disappointment, it was unlikely she would visit again for many long years.  

An idea came to him then. "If you could, would you stay in Lindon? Instead of returning to the Greenwood when the delegation leaves."

"Stay here? And do what?" 

"Read, hunt in golden woods. Whatever you like."

Her reply came out of her mouth before she had time to think about it. "I would like that. Perhaps you could even teach me something of your craft- it seems quite interesting."

That thought intrigued him, he liked the idea of being in the forge with her. Perhaps she would keep the memories at bay. "I could take you as an apprentice, if Prince Thranduil allows it. Although you might find it dull."

"I doubt that. I will ask Prince Thranduil, if you will ask your King, I would not wish to impose." 

“I doubt you would be imposing. Thranduil would probably pay you to keep me out of trouble.”

He laughed. “I doubt any prince has enough money for that.”

He parted ways with her in the grand entrance and cut through the long hallways to the private rooms that belonged to Gil-galad. He had a favor to ask.

Chapter Text

"Eregion is overrun with orcs. I do not know if it can be retrieved." Gil-galad said, gently. He held in his hand the list Celebrimbor had given him. He had requested his anvil from Eregion. He had scratched it out, but still, he had wanted it. 

Celebrimbor nodded, accepting what he already knew to be true. "I know, it was a foolish thought. It will be hard to start in a new forge without it. I learned my first skills on that anvil, and I hate the thought of leaving it in Eregion. In what's left of Eregion." 

Gil-galad saw some of the light leave his eyes and amended, thinking quickly, "Perhaps we could send a scouting party. To make sure. We should not leave such things in the hands of our enemies, if it can be avoided. I will arrange it. Scouts can leave tomorrow and be back in only a few days, then we shall know."

"I- thank you, Ereinion. I will go prepare."

"Prepare for what?"

"To accompany the scouts."

Gil-galad stared at him.

"Of course I do not wish to go. I never want to see that place again- don't know if I can stand to see it now. But there are several anvils in the forge, or what is left of it, and I would not risk our scouts for the wrong one. And I feel as though I need to go. I need to face it." The last he admitted quietly.

"I am sorry." He reached out and clasped his shoulder with one hand. Celebrimbor put his own hand over Gil-galad's and they stood like that for a long moment. 

A knock at the door interrupted them. Ninaelhel stuck her head in and, seeing the High King, stepped into the room and bowed low. 

"Your Majesty, Lord Celebrimbor." She bowed and directed her words to Gil-galad. "I am sorry to interrupt."

"It's quite alright, please come in. No doubt you were looking for Celebrimbor. Please come in, I have been looking forward to finally meeting you. "

She nodded, "Thank you, your majesty. I apologize that we have not met sooner, I did not wish to distract Prince Thranduil from important negotiations. He has so enjoyed your conversations and speaks highly of you, your majesty."

"Is that so?" Ninaelhel could swear the High King was suppressing his smile, just a little. "I have also enjoyed our time together. I will miss our conversations when the prince returns to the Greenwood. But you were not here to discuss the prince."

She smiled. "No, Lord Celebrimbor has promised to show me a section of the grounds this afternoon."

"Well, I will not keep you then. It was lovely to meet you, Ninaelhel. I look forward to hearing about your work for Lord Celebrimbor. Welcome to Lindon."

"Thank you, your Majesty is very gracious."

Ninaelhel bowed deeply and Gil-galad took his leave, squeezing Celebrimbor's should as he passed him. Gil-galad did not need to look at his friend to see that he was gazing at Ninaelhel. The she elf was quite beautiful. And an accomplished swords woman from the way Thranduil told it. Exactly Celebrimbor's type. He hoped, for his friend's sake, that she returned his affection. 

Lord Celebrimbor showed her a section of the grounds that had a beautiful fountain. She leaned over it to look into the water and noticed there were colorful fish in it.

"Beautiful." She said. 

"Indeed," Celebrimbor agreed. She did not see that he looked at her and not at the fountain. 

"Do you eat these fish?"

The question caught him off-guard, and he laughed. "No, I don't think so. They are only for decoration."

"Interesting. Lindon is a very peaceful place to have such room for beauty for beauty's sake."

"Is it not the same in the Greenwood?"

She shook her head. "No. There is great beauty there, but it is of the natural world and not...managed... as it is here. It is wilder."

Celebrimbor hesitated a moment, "I am glad you are staying in Lindon to be my apprentice." He almost said, with me . 

She smiled, but her gaze stayed on the fish, swirling lazily through the water. 

"Are you glad?" She looked... sad for some reason.

She nodded, still watching the fish. "But it will be hard to be away from home for so long a time. I have never ventured outside of the Greenwood realm before."

"I understand what it is to be far from home." He said. 

She looked up at him and met his eyes. "I am being silly, aren't I? I can go home to visit whenever I wish. Come now, we will be late for dinner."

She held out her hand and he stepped up to her, placing her hand on his arm. They walked like that to the grand dinner hall together. Celebrimbor thought that perhaps he could be happier in his new life than he had in his old. What a strange thought, that such horror could bring such a bright new beginning. 

The next morning dawned rainy and cool. Celebrimbor stood in the courtyard with his horse, Gwedal, waiting for the party to assemble. As they gathered, he could see that many of its members were from Prince Thranduil's personal guard. He spotted the tall Canarfin talking to another elf who was so like him in appearance that he had to be his brother. 

He started to see Ninaelhel walking to join them, leading a tall bay horse. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked. 

"Captain Tindomiel is standing guard on the prince this morning, so I am to lead the party." She saw his look of utter horror. "It will be alright- I have done it many times in the Greenwood."

Celebrimbor did not know what to say to that. He could think of a million reasons she should not come, but truthfully, they boiled down to I do not wish to see you hurt , and he couldn't think of a way to say that she couldn't turn on him for the same reason. Or perhaps not for the same reason, but all the same. He mounted his horse and held his tongue, for now. 

They left by the main gate just as the sun was rising above the horizon. A silence swept through them as they passed through the gate, each preparing for what could be a very dangerous undertaking. 

Celebrimbor suddenly felt unsure. He was risking all of their lives for an anvil. He did not need it. He wanted it, greatly desired to have it back in his possession, but he did not need it. He cleared his throat to call out a stop. 

A horse fell in beside him and he turned to see the elf who must be Canarfin's brother guiding his horse close enough that he could speak quietly to Celebrimbor. 

The elf inclined his head toward Celebrimbor. They were all so polite, he was starting to wonder what the realm of the Greenwood really was like. None of these guards were as uncouth as many in Lindon assumed they would be. 

"Do not call a halt, Lord Celebrimbor."

Celebrimbor started. "How- how did you know?"

The elf shrugged. "It is a talent of mine. I am much quieter than my brother, so people tend to overlook me. When one is overlooked, one sees much. Please do not call a halt." 

"It is only an anvil. I do not want anyone to die for it."

"If it were just an anvil then we would not be riding to get it. And anyway, many of the Elves of the Greenwood are greatly ashamed that we did not aid you when Eregion was attacked. We did not know in time, but it still pains. We have enough experience with orcs that we could have been of great help." 

Celebrimbor swallowed, there was a lump in his throat. "Thank you." 

The elf continued. "And besides, we are getting restless cooped up in Lindon. It is a very pretty place but nothing much seems to happen there."

"Different from the Greenwood then?"

He nodded, "Greatly. We hardly know a day of peace between the orcs and goblins and creatures from the darker parts of the forest. We patrol daily to keep the trade routes open."

"Who do you trade with? The dwarves?

Malon nodded. "Yes, and men, too. There are men to the south of us that make a very fine wine, for mortals anyway."

Ninaelhel cantered her horse up to them.

"I hope you are not talking Lord Celebrimbor's ear off, Malon."

He laughed and Celebrimbor started slightly, while his voice had been soft and melodic, his laugh reminded Celebrimbor of a braying donkey.

"I doubtless am- another talent of mine- but Lord Celebrimbor is too polite to silence me."

"Luckily for him, I am not. Return to your place, we draw near a choke point and need to be ready." 

"As you command." Malon said easily and turned his horse away and returned to the rear behind the company. 

"I didn't mind his company."

"No? Well, I can go get him if you'd like."

Celebrimbor held up a hand, "No, no I think it's alright for now. Besides, I prefer your company."

That made something go funny in Ninaelhel's stomach. "I- ah- thank you. I enjoy your company as well. However, I was serious, this next part of the road could be dangerous. It is the perfect place for an ambush. We need to be prepared."

The thought of an orc ambush was sickening, Celebrimbor began to sweat. He shouldn't have come; he shouldn't have brought them here. He was going back to the forge; Sauron would be there. Why was he going back? 

A hand on his arm pulled him from his spiraling. 

Ninaelhel had brought her horse alongside his, so close their legs were brushing. Her hand on his arm was firm and her gaze steady. "It is only a precaution. The orcs in Eregion are deserters, unlikely to have enough order for an ambush. No one knows we are coming. We may be in and out like a thief in the night, with none the wiser that we were ever there. But it is best to be cautious- is it not?"

"Yes, yes I suppose it is." He took a breath and sat up straighter. "Thank you, I am alright now, I think." She let go of his arm and he felt the loss more keenly than he would have thought. If not for the chokepoint, as she called it, becoming visible on the road ahead, he would have asked her to put it back. But ahead he could see where the road narrowed, hemmed in on one side by a cliff. He pulled his horse away to give her room. 

They company passed through it silently, on high alert. The sounds of their horses' hooves rang loud- the only sound. Even the birds and the wind in the trees seemed to be holding their breath. 

They rode through the silent forest for a long time. They passed through the narrow point without incident, but the tension only grew. The forest stayed silent. No birds called out in the eerie gloom- no wind stirred the leaves. The front horses slowed, and they crested the hill overlooking the valley that held the ruins of Eregion as a group. It was only a ruined city to most of the guards, but to Celebrimbor it had been his home, his life's work- his life. He had not seen it since he was rescued from the forge and taken to Lindon to be healed. He had not been coherent then- but in all of his memories of that day, Eregion was burning. 

The city lay in ruins under a grey sky, still as death. Celebrimbor started and jerked when a hand was placed on his arm, it was Canarfin.

"Come, we must leave the horses. They are too big and will only make us a target." 

Celebrimbor dismounted and led his horse into the trees where one of the Lindon soldiers was feeding the horses apples and tying their reins to low branches. Ninaelhel was huddled with the Mirkwood guards, speaking to them in a low voice. When the horses were settled, she stepped forward and beckoned everyone together in a tight group. Celebrimbor realized that her earlier admonishment of Malon had not been due to friendship- she was truly in charge. Everyone was looking to her. It made him feel more stable, for reasons he chose not to acknowledge. 

"Alright," She began. "I will take the twins, two archers, and myself into the ruins to scout ahead. If we clear the area, I will send one archer back to bring Lord Celebrimbor down to find the anvil. If there are orcs in the ruins, we will lead them in the opposite direction while you take Lord Celebrimbor back the way we have come."

"And what of you?" the Lord in question asked. 

"We have fought orcs in the forest many times. We can lose them in the trees and double back. If needed, we can walk back to Lindon- do not leave the horses if you must go."

She looked at the archers for a moment before pointing at two- both from the Greenwood. 

"We will go now, please keep the horses quiet. The birds don't sing, but they will fly away if startled and orcs know to look for that and will investigate if they see it."

"Wait." It was Kieran, of Lindon, who spoke. "You have only chosen guards from the Greenwood."

Ninaelhel nodded. "That's right."

"I want to know why."

"Because it was not our friends or family that died here, it is not a place any of us have seen outside of paintings. We will not become distracted. I spoke with the High King before coming- none know what to expect inside the city since it was abandoned."

There was a long moment of heavy silence before Kieran nodded. "That is an excellent point. Carry on."

"Thank you." She said softly. Celebrimbor watched her- fascinated to see her in this context-he wondered how large a part of her life this was in the Greenwood. 

She met his eyes briefly and a look he couldn't identify passed over her face- worry, concern, and something else- but before he could open his mouth to speak to her, she was gone. The Greenwood guards in their green and brown uniforms stepped off of the trail into the forest and melted into the shadows. For the first time, he realized the difference their experience with the terrain would make. 

He turned and looked at the remaining guards, all standing or squatting tensely, except for Aubron, who was petting the horses. 

"What do we do now?" He asked. 

Kieran looked at the sky and the forest around him before meeting his eyes. "Now we wait. Wait, and listen, just in case we have to get our asses out of here. Pardon my language, my Lord."

"I think in these circumstances, coarse language may be called for."

He stood under the trees, unable to sit still but not wishing to create more movement than necessary. With the full company he had not felt truly scared, but with five of the Greenwood guards gone, he felt like he was hanging in the wind. The forest might shield them from view, but what could it be shielding from their view? He shivered, trying not to think about where he might be going next. This was a bad idea. 

Nearly an hour passed before the scout returned,  Canarfin melting out of the trees as easily as he had disappeared in them. Celebrimbor hid his own surprise, but a few of the Lindon guards actually jumped. Not for the first time, Celebrimbor was glad that the elves of Greenwood were allies. 

"It is clear, or as close to it as we can make it. There has been orc activity in the city, but the daylight will probably keep them at bay."

"Probably?" Keiran asked. 

"Well, maybe. Lord Celebrimbor- are you ready?"

Celebrimbor took a deep breath. "Yes, as ready as I can be." 

"Follow me and stay alert. You see anything, you say something." 

Celebrimbor took one look behind him as he followed Canarfin into the trees. The Lindon guards were all watching him. Kieran raised a hand. Celebrimbor returned the gesture and turned forward, hoping that was not the last time he would see him. Bad idea indeed. 

Celebrimbor felt like he had never strained his ears and eyes so much in his life. He followed Canarfin as quietly as he could, listening desperately for any sound, ready at a moment's notice to drop to the ground as he had been instructed. He was so distracted that it was not until they passed through the broken gates and into the city that he realized how far they had come. 

He froze on the threshold. Canarfin must have heard him because he also stopped, waiting. 

Celebrimbor swallowed, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. 

Ruins did not even begin to describe the state of the city that had once been his pride and joy. Windows were smashed, doors caved in. There wasn't a single building or facade that had not been broken or torn down. Red and black paint covered any surface that was still standing. Celebrimbor was grateful that he could not read what any of it said. 

The Greenwood guard let him look for a moment before turning back and coming to put an arm around him. He leaned down and said softly in Celebrimbor's ear. "That is enough, my Lord, do not look at it anymore. I will guide you to the others. The rest looks the same as this, there is nowhere worse."

His words comforted Celebrimbor, who dutifully turned his eyes to the ground. Idly he wondered, as his picked his way through the rubble before him, why so many of the Greenwood guards did so well with darkness. Lindon must be more sheltered than he had thought. Nearly as sheltered as Eregion had been. What did they face in the forest that was so evil? Perhaps he did not know, but he knew someday his curiosity would get the better of him and he would ask Ninaelhel. He wondered if she would tell him.

Before he knew it, he was ushered through an open doorway into the dim wreck of an abandoned seamstress shop across from his old forge. It had been a clever trick, he realized. Not only had he not seen any more of the city, but he had also forgotten to be afraid of the orcs. For there were orcs he, he knew now, that had to be why everyone was so quiet. 

His eyes met Ninaelhel's and a wave of relief passed through him. She looked the same as she had in the forest- it did not look as though they had done any fighting. 

"Lord Celebrimbor," Canarfin started. "The forge of Eregion is only 20 paces from the door of this building."

Twenty paces? Surely it had been more than thrice that. 

Canarfin saw his confusion and amended. "The ruins of the forge begin 20 paces from the door. It appears that it was blown up somehow. Which is good for us, because we will likely be able to locate the anvil quite quickly. You will go with me to find it. Once it is located you are to return to this building. Malon and I will carry the anvil there and we will return as a group with ourselves and you in the center, the rest watching our backs. And fronts." 

Ninaelhel snorted. His pep talk could use some work. 

He looked at her sternly before continuing. "If we are attacked then drop to the ground, use the anvil for whatever guard it will provide, and leave it to us. You two-" he addressed the two archers, whose names Celebrimbor suddenly wished he knew. "Keep watch. If you must choose, protect Lord Celebrimbor first. If we are overwhelmed, it will be your job to get him out."

Celebrimbor started to protest but Canarfin cut him off. "This is what we do, what we are for. Do not insult us for it."

Celebrimbor snapped his mouth shut and nodded, at a loss for words. 

Canarfin waited a moment and when it was clear that Celebrimbor would not protest again, he nodded, and the group stepped cautiously out of the doorway and into the square. 

Celebrimbor raised his eyes and took in the wreckage of the forge spread out across nearly the entire open space. His eyes caught on pieces of the parapet, a chunk of wall with fireproof tile still attached, a broken half of a worktable turned on its side, one leg dangling at an angle. He forced himself to see it as only stone, only tile, only wood. He was looking for metal, that was all. The whole square was a shadowed by the empty carcasses of buildings and the disarray made it seem even darker despite the grey sunlight. 

The memories came unbidden, hazy at first, but sparking to bright life when his eyes fell on his creasing hammer lying in the dirt at his feet. He kicked the hammer away from him. The sound of Sauron's voice tugged at his thoughts-

  That creasing hammer? He had said smoothly, pointing at the table. He had just looked, and it had not been there. But there it was.

He would have sunk completely in the memories if not for an orc arrow landing so close to him that the dirt it kicked up fell across the toe of one if his boots. He stared at it without comprehension for a moment too long, and then Malon was dragging him by the arm back into the dark seamstress shop.

He shoved Celebrimbor into the back of the shop, behind the archers where they stood, firing arrows through the open glassless windows. Then he was gone, darting back out into the square, drawing his sword. Canarfin was already whirling, a spear in one hand and a short sword in the other. Orcs seemed to appear from half the buildings around the square- not many but all coming at once. The twins whirled and darted, leaving a path of dead orcs in their wake. But Ninaelhel-

Ninaelhel . 

As soon as Celebrimbor spotted her on the other side of the square, his breath caught, and he couldn't tear his eyes from her. 

Fighting alone, she spun and spun back, dual blades slicing through the air so fast Celebrimbor could hardly see them. A few orcs fell before the rest around her seemed to realize they were outmatched and began to back away, watching her for any break in her pattern, any weakness. She did not give them time to find one. Stepping over the bodies in front of her, she advanced. A lone elf purposely surrounding herself with the enemy. Her blades bit and blood spattered across the stones.

Celebrimbor sucked in a breath when one orc's glaive swung toward her, but she simply dropped- almost boneless- and it missed her by nearly a foot. She catapulted herself back to her feet and grabbed the shaft of the glaive, using it to pull herself behind the orc to slit his throat. She dropped the body on the ground and Celebrimbor saw her face for one moment- it was blank. Or not blank, but not a battle grimace either, more of a serene look of ease. As though this took no thought and hardly any effort. It was a feeling that he knew well from hours perfecting his craft in the forge- flow. That she achieved that state in the middle of a battle sent a shiver down his spine. He had a type.  He tore his gaze from her and looked to wear the twins stood. They were standing still, piles of dead orcs on the ground around them. They were no longer fighting, they were watching Ninaelhel. Canarfin was leaning on his spear casually. 

Looking back at her, Celebrimbor could see that she was down to only three opponents. Two of them circled her, looking for a way past her swirling blades. The last hung back, still watching. 

She lunged forward and caught the first of the circling two on the leg, pitching him forward and onto her other blade. The other went for her back but she dodged his blow, skidding to her knees on just outside of his reach. The orc was quick, arresting his blow and reversing it, but Ninaelhel dropped down to lay on the ground, and the blade missed her again. It was like watching the orcs battle smoke- wherever their blades went she drifted away, seemingly on the air from their swings. She pushed to her feet as the orc advanced again. 

To her left, her the orc who had been watching moved to join the fight. It was obvious he had some skill with the blade, more than his companions had. Celebrimbor barely blinked as she circled, trying to keep both orcs in view. Suddenly she started to advance in an another spinning pattern of slashes.

The orc who she had already been fighting fell under her blades and she stepped over him as she moved towards her last opponent. The orc laughed and said something in black speech, the harsh words making Celebrimbor and the rest of the elves flinch. 

Ninaelhel did not flinch. She answered . In black speech. The words flowed smoothly from her tongue despite the sharp consonants. The orc was not laughing now. His hideous face was hard to read but Celebrimbor would have bet his best hammer that his expression was one of rage. 

He charged, bringing a heavy sword down before him. Ninaelhel moved but the sword had been aiming for where she would move and she nearly walked into the blade, jumping back at the last second. The large orc slashed the blade sideways, but he had backed her into a pile of rubble now, she couldn't pull her dropping moved. Instead, she jumped. If the slash had been higher, it would not have been enough. Celebrimbor saw her face again and she was no longer serene. If the orc was filled with rage as hot as fire, then she was filled with hate colder than ice. 

She landed on a large piece of the exterior wall of the tower, making her several feet taller than the orc. She looked down on him and said something to him again in black speech. The orc started and looked up at her as if seeing something he had not seen before. Whatever it was, it was the last thing he saw. In one fluid move Ninaelhel leapt from the rubble and swung her dual blades in a crosswise motion, cleanly separating the orc's head from his body. 

Silence fell. Celebrimbor was still hardly breathing, although he felt something in his chest unclench. Ninaelhel was breathing heavily. 

Canarfin stood up from where he had been leaning against his spear and clapped. 

"Excellent performance. I'm sure our audience enjoyed that one."

"Shut up Canarfin, you could have helped me."

"And end it all too soon? Before our friend could see what you can really do? Never."

He walked over to her and took one of her swords, mirroring her by cleaning it with a piece of fabric from his pocket. He handed it back to her and she sheathed her blades, dropping the black bloody cloth on the orc's body. 

Walking back, Ninaelhel looked at the ground, not meeting Celebrimbor's gaze. She was not sure what she would see there. It was his first chance to see her fight and she had lost her cool, taunted the orc. In black speech. She would probably be as good as Sauron to him now. The thought twisted her heart, she had come to care for him in the short time they had known each other, and she hated that he would think badly of her. A part of her hoped he would not, but she pushed it down and focused on her task. The least she could do was retrieve his father's anvil.

She stepped up to the threshold of the doorway but did not cross the lintel. 

"We should be safe to accomplish our task now. It is unlikely that we will be bothered now."

They set to their task, Celebrimbor trying his best to ignore the dead orcs as he scanned through the rubble. The anvil was found before too long and a few minutes of work cleared the rubble from overtop of it. It felt like he had been in Eregion for days, but it had been less than two hours before they were prepared to leave. As they prepared to carry the anvil back to the horses on the hillside overlooking the ruins of the city, Celebrimbor watched Ninaelhel from the corner of his eye. She had not met his gaze once since her fight with the orcs. Celebrimbor very much wished she would. Gil-galad would say that he had a type, and as much as he tried to deny it, it was true. There was something irresistible about a woman who wielded a blade as easy as breathing that had always attracted him. He had felt the same way for Galadriel, once, although in time it had become clear that she would never share his feelings, and their relationship had settled into a deep and enduring friendship. He expected nothing different from Ninaelhel, and in some ways relished it. He had always done his best work when he was driving by yearning for what he could not have. And besides, he thought, he would like to know Ninaelhel as a true friend.

They were silent once more as they left the city. The anvil held between the twins. Well, silent but for their grunting. It was a heavy anvil. 

"Will you cease?" Ninaelhel's voice surprised Celebrimbor with its sudden sharpness. 

"Apologies. We will be quieter as we carry the weight of a house between us. Unless you'd like to carry it." Canarfin was slightly breathless with the effort. 

She gave him a stern look, but Canarfin merely returned it with a level gaze until she snorted. The tension seemed to ease slightly at that and before long they had made it back to the horses and were on their way back to Lindon. 

Celebrimbor heaved a sigh of relief when the city gates appeared through the golden leaves. No one had died and no one had been injured in his foolish quest, and now it was over. He would never have to see Eregion again if he did not wish it. He wished he had never gone and seen it like that in the harsh light of day. He had desperately clung to the image of the city before it's fall before today, trying to forget the bits and pieces he had seen on that last horrible day. 

He was so tired. All he wanted to do was go to his rooms and lay in the dark and forget. But the anvil needed to be unloaded. He directed them to the half-built forge and showed the twins where to set it down. They had insisted on carrying it themselves through the palace. Whether through pride in having accomplished their task, or to goad Ninaelhel, he could not say. Once they had set it down and he assured them that its placement was perfect, they left, bowing deeply. 

Ninaelhel turned to follow them, but Celebrimbor softly saying her name stopped her. She stood on the threshold but did not turn to face him, only looked over her shoulder at the floor near his feet. She still had not looked him in the eye. 

"Thank you." Was all he said. He wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. It was not the time for long conversations. He hoped there would be time in the future to tell her he was impressed by her sword work and to ask her where she had picked up black speech. There would likely never be time to tell her she had looked beautiful in the heat of battle, or that watching her flow with her blades creating a circle of death around her was the first time he had felt alive since he had cursed Sauron in the forge with what he had thought would be his dying breath. He would likely never tell her those things, but that would not stop him from thinking them.

"You are welcome." Was all she said. Then she left, her soft footfalls crunching the leaves in the peaceful silence of Lindon. 

Celebrimbor stood, watching her go. An idea had come to him, like one had not in all the months since the fall of Eregion. He barely saw her leave, already sketching the design in his mind's eye. As he stared out through a partially finished window, something caught his eye. It was the book she had been carrying and dropped in the mud when he had run into her. He picked it up and brushed the dry caked mud from the cover- A History of the House of Feanor. He carefully set the book back on the table and went back to his sketches. 

Chapter Text

The next morning Ninaelhel found Celebrimbor in the skeleton of his new forge at first light. It looked as though he had been there all night- there was a fire burning in the forge and the remnants of a meal.  The walls had been partially raised and a lattice of wood made the start of a ceiling. It was too early for the builders yet, but Celebrimbor sat at a table, a piece of parchment and quill before him. He was combing through a box of scrap metals. She paused on the door sill, inhaling the new wood smell and surprised to see him there. He did not see her, so she allowed herself to watch him. There was something in his focused gaze that caught her breath- she had seen flickers of that life at other times, but only flickers. Now he was alive with purpose, holding up first one piece and then another, debating with himself the merits of each. A breeze blew through the open ceiling and ruffled his hair. She leaned against the door, but it creaked slightly, giving her presence away. 

He looked up, concentration broken, and saw her standing there. For a brief moment she met his eyes before looking away. Her expression was unreadable, as it had been the day before. He set the metal down on the bench.

"Good morning." He was polite but guarded. He did not know why she had been so closed with him the day before- had combed through the memories of their conversations to see if there was some way he could have offended her without realizing but had found nothing. He did not want to push her away when they had just been getting closer, had been becoming nearly friends. 

"Good morning." She replied and stepped into the room lightly. "What are you doing?" She tilted her head towards the box of scrap.

He reached over and picked out a new piece. "I am trying to find the right metals for my first work. The forge is nearly done so I might as well begin working." Seeing her waiting look he went on, "I must craft for myself the part of my hand that is missing." He would not tell her that he was planning on making her a gift first. It was not a lie; he really did need to create a new thumb for himself as well. 

She came closer and looked into the box. "And how do you know what metal is the correct one?"

It was a genuine question; her eyes rose to meet his as if they had never not. 

He smiled unconsciously and launched into an explanation of the various metals he had on hand- their merits and drawbacks, how they might be combined together. She listened, asking questions every now and again. They were delightful questions- without prior knowledge of this craft they came at things from a new angle. The anxiety of being in the forge that he had been sternly ignoring faded and disappeared in the face of those questions. Celebrimbor felt a piece of himself sliding back into place, a part of his soul that he thought gone perhaps, returning only slightly worse for the wear.

Ninaelhel listened to Celebrimbor's lecture on the metals, trying to find smart questions to ask. He held out different metals to her and she took them, trying to see and feel the qualities he described for each. Celebrimbor's face was alight with his passion for his craft, and she could hardly look away. He was a handsome elf, that she had already admitted to herself, an easy task when one was constantly surrounded by beauty. Prince Thranduil was beautiful, the twins were beautiful. Even High King Gil-galad was pleasing to look at. But they did not pull her the way this man did. She caught herself staring into his eyes, at his lips. She began to miss parts of his lecture and pulled her eyes away, to focus on the metal, before he noticed. She pushed her attraction down. She had to be a good apprentice, and that was not the way. But each time he handed her some piece of scrap metal, their fingers brushed. She tried to tell herself that she was not doing it on purpose- some pieces were quite small and slippery smooth- but she knew that for a lie. His hands were warm, and she was surprised to still find them calloused, even after months away from his hammers. They made her shiver.

The second time it happened, he noticed, and his face took on a look of concern. 

"Ninaelhel, are you alright? Are you cold- it is quite cool in here without the roof. I could make you some tea?" His concern did nothing to cool the fire starting in her, the opposite in fact. A kind of reckless feeling overtook her for a moment, and she looked away to master herself. She found she had an attraction she had not immediately recognized as such because no one had ever treated her as a woman before- all of the men around her in the Greenwood were like either brothers or uncles. Celebrimbor did not feel like either to her. She was not sure what it would be like to be with him, but she was realizing how greatly she wished to know. 

She felt herself blush. "No, I am alright. Please, don't trouble yourself."

He cocked his head at her, studying her. Something about her answer must have sounded off to him. He stepped closer and she stepped back, trying to keep the distance between them the same but she hit the worktable and stumbled. He reached out and caught her. He was so strong and warm and right there. Her face had to be completely red by now, but she couldn't look away. This close she could see all the striae of color in his eyes and the way he was looking at her took her breath away. 

He caught Ninaelhel by her hips when she stumbled against the workbench. He should have let go, but she felt unsteady somehow and he- he didn't want to. She was strong, but her hips were womanly, soft. It had been a long time since he had touched anyone. A very long time. 

She stared into his eyes, and he felt unable to look away. Her face was flushing, and she didn't step away from him again. Instead, one of her hands moved from where she had gripped his arms when she tripped to rest on his chest. She didn't push him away, just rested it there. He wondered if she could feel his heart thundering. They stayed like that for a long moment, too long. He wanted to kiss her.  He resisted the urge, even as it pulled at him like an ocean current. She was his friend, his apprentice. Her hand moved, sliding up his chest and across his shoulder to his neck. He leaned into the touch, and she bit her lip, and suddenly-suddenly-he understood. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted... him . He felt dizzy, like all of Middle Earth tilted with him as he leaned down, bringing his lips closer to hers. He wanted her like he had not wanted any other woman, but he had to be sure.

He was going to kiss her, she realized. He leaned down, closer, closer and then... stopped. He hovered with his lips nearly touching hers. She felt faint. 

He took a breath and spoke, almost as soft as a whisper, "May I kiss you?"

Ninaelhel nearly did faint then. She did not answer, only closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. He was so warm, and his large hands came up to cradle the sides of her head. Her hands tangled in his hair. The kiss was chaste, mouths closed, but it ignited her blood like wildfire. She pressed her body closer to his and he let out a small gasp. She took the chance and slid her tongue along his bottom lip. He made a small, helpless sound in his throat. It was intoxicating. He was so responsive. Like no one had touched him, kissed him, in an age. The thought brought her up short, reminded her who he was. Lord Celebrimbor, and she was his apprentice. And they were in an open half-built forge where anyone could see walk by and see. She pulled herself away and he stepped back immediately, his hand going to the back of his neck in embarrassment. Her stomach dropped. 

Ninaelhel pulled away from him and he let her go instantly, stepping back to give her space. His heart clenched in his chest and dropped. Had he been wrong? He was silent. He rubbed the back of his neck and didn't look at her. 

Except, she had kissed him . He had asked her, and she had kissed him. He looked up at her. 

She was standing with one hand to her mouth, her face bright red. 

"I'm sorry-" she said at the same moment he said, "I am sorry. I misinterpreted-"

They both stopped and he gestured for her to speak first. She gave a little embarrassed laugh. 

"I don't think this is the place for... that ." Her eyes rose to meet his and he sucked in a breath. She did not regret the kiss, that was clear. Only the location.

He gave his own small laugh. "You are right. This is not the place." He didn't know where to go from there, but luckily, they were interrupted by one of the Greenwood guards. He sent a silent prayer to whichever Valar handled luck that the guard hadn't come a moment sooner. 

"Ninaelhel, Prince Thranduil wishes to speak to you in his rooms."

The guard looked between them and Ninaelhel spoke, "I will come now then, go on ahead and tell him I am coming."

The guard left with a last look and both Ninaelhel and Celebrimbor let out a sigh of relief, laughing a little when they saw the same reflected on the other's face. 

"I had better go now. I'm sure the prince's schedule is very busy."

"Of course, I will be here when you are done."

She smiled shyly at him before ducking out of the door. 

She had kissed him. He touched his lips and smiled.

Chapter Text

Ninaelhel stepped into Thranduil's room and closed the door behind her. He sat at the writing desk, working on a letter. He set down his quill and turned to face her. 

"Ninaelhel."

"Thranduil."

He smiled. "I am going to miss you."

Her heart clenched. "And I, you. But I will visit when I can. I am not gone from the Greenwood forever."

"No, you are not. But we are at war, and it will not be safe for you to travel, likely for a very long time. It is too bad you will not get to say goodbye to father in person. Will you write a letter for me to bring to him?"

"Of course, I wish to thank the King for all of his kindness-"

He cut her off. "He is as much your father as he is mine, Nina." He used her pet name from when they were children and Ninaelhel felt tears start to well in her eyes. 

"I will write to him. When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow, at first light."

"So soon?"

Thranduil nodded. "The scouts went out last night and the roads are clear. It might be our last chance to travel to the Greenwood without having to fight our way through."

"I wish you safe travels then." She went over and hugged him. He returned it, tightening his arms. 

"At least I am not leaving you alone here. You have your Lord Celebrimbor ." 

She blushed. "I do indeed. And tell me, have you told the High King just how much you have enjoyed your stay? Have you truly thanked him for your visit?"

He released her and swung to slap her arm, but she ducked out from under his hand and got behind him. It was a game they had often played as children. It hurt her heart to know they played it now to distract from their sadness. 

"I'll have you know I have thanked the High King as was diplomatically appropriate." 

The morning was clear and cold. Ninaelhel stood wrapped in her cloak and watched as the delegation from Greenwood gathered in the grand entry courtyard of the palace. Handlers were bringing the guards their horses. The prince's elk stamped his hoof and tossed his head, pulling at the reins where a groom held him. 

She stood with the twins, tolerating their teasing about how she would have great big arms next time they saw her, being a smith now. She let their voices and even Malon's laugh wash over her, relishing the last sounds of home for a long time. She fervently hoped that she would see them again- she knew in times of war that was never guaranteed. 

Even Tindomiel had pulled her into an embrace, which surprised her no less than how strongly she had returned it. She had never considered the guard captain to be a friend, but she now realized that she was truly like family. She promised again and again to write and send her letters with every messenger traveling between Lindon and the Greenwood.

Finally, Thranduil came down the wide stairs, dressed for riding in a splendid silver coat and tall boots. He looked every inch the Elven prince. Ninaelhel memorized him in that moment, the way she wanted to think of him while they were apart. 

He took the reins of his elk from the handlers and looked out over the party until his eyes met hers. 

She went to him, and he embraced her with one arm. 

"Safe travels Thranduil."

He cleared his throat, and she realized he had unshed tears in his eyes. Her own eyes pricked. 

"I will miss you, sister. Be safe, be happy."

She nodded, "I will. You, also. Be happy."

He looked over her shoulder and spoke to someone there, "Take care of her for me."

She turned to see Celebrimbor, standing a respectful distance away. 

"I will, I swear it." Celebrimbor shared a long look with Thranduil before bowing. 

Thranduil gave her another small hug and released her to climb onto his elk. 

He sat straight and turned his attention to the top of the steps, where High King Gil-galad stood with his herald.  

The king cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Today we are gathered to bid farewell to our friends from the Greenwood. We have been honored to host them here, and hope in the future to journey hence the enjoy their hospitality under the eaves of the noble Greenwood."

As Ninaelhel stood watching the speech, Celebrimbor stepped closer to her until his shoulder touched hers. His fingers brushed hers and she felt a curl of heat low in her belly. She twined her fingers with his and he squeezed her hand. They stood like that while the High King bid the prince and his retinue farewell and Celebrimbor didn't let go until she pulled away from him to wave to her friends as they rode through the gates. 

When she turned back to him there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. She wiped her tears and sniffled. 

"I feel so silly, I will see them again."

"It is not silly; they are your family. You will see them again."

She nodded. "I will." She said it fiercely and he hoped with all his heart that she was right. 

"Come, I have something to show you in the forge."

She looked back at the gates for one last long moment before turning to follow him 

In the forge he showed her what he had been working on- not the gift for her, that he had finished and hidden in his rooms- but the prosthetic for his hand. It had been slow going at first, but now he almost didn't need it in the forge. But it was good practice and there would doubtless be times when he would need two whole hands to complete a task. 

She turned the prototype over in her hands, looking at it from every angle. She was absorbed by it, the same way she had been in the library. He wanted to reach out and take her face in his hands, to kiss her, but he stopped himself. She had pulled away from him before because of where they were, he wouldn't make that mistake again. He pushed the urge away. 

She smiled up at him, her smile going wider when she realized he had been watching her and not the piece of metal in her hands. He was so handsome. She carefully put the prototype down. 

"This is wonderful."

"You think?" 

"Of course, and it gives me an idea. I'll be right back." 

Before he could say another word, she was gone, out of the room and across the grounds. 

She returned less than an hour later. Celebrimbor looked up from his drafting table to see her entering through the open doorway, a small elf boy in tow. 

"Hello." He said. 

The boy hid his face in her skirts. "He's shy," she said to Celebrimbor. To the boy she said, "Come now, Maica, show Lord Celebrimbor your leg."

Slowly, tentatively, the boy pulled away from her and Celebrimbor realized that he held a carved wooden crutch under one arm. He stepped awkwardly away from Ninaelhel and Celebrimbor's eyes traced down his body, down his leg, to where it ended, just below his knee. The boy was missing a leg. 

He met Ninaelhel's eyes, and she smiled at him.

"You wanted to help right the wrongs. I thought maybe you could start here."

He felt a fierce joy rising in his chest, too big to get words out around. He slipped off his chair and knelt on the ground, level with the boy's eyes.

"Maica how would you like it if I made you a new leg?"

She had been right; he wasn't a warrior. He was a smith. 

Chapter Text

Celebrimbor worked late into the night. The pile of sketches grew by the hour, and he compiled lists of materials, equipment, tools. He had not worked on a project since the rings but there was no fear in this. With the rings there had been urgency- the fate of the elves, then Annatar always over his shoulder, always pushing. Now it was only him, only Celebrimbor and his mind and his craft. Even the long shadow of Feanor’s legacy had faded- Celebrimbor knew the rings he had made would have a legacy far darker and consequences more far-reaching than the Silmarils. But he had made them and they were gone, except the three. Out of his hands and he could do nothing about them now. What he could do now, and perhaps all he could do, was to try to help. To make something beautiful whose purpose was greater than his own glory. 

He fell asleep there, slumped over his work table. Resting his eyes after hours of squinting and intricate mechanical drawings. 

Ninaelhel could not sleep. She left her room and wandered through the darkened halls of the palace. The night cast long shadows, but through the windows the stars were bright. She found her way to the banquet hall. She walked through its cavernous emptiness, her footfalls making no noise. The large door opened easily and she made her way onto the balcony. She found the spot where she had met Celebrimbor and stood at the railing looking out over the dark grounds. 

Not entirely dark- no, elves slept little and there were always a few who worked or read or sang softly, even in the darkest hours. There was one who she looked for in particular- there, the forge was lit with lamps. 

He was awake. 

A thrill ran through her but she calmed her breath and made her way slowly back through the balcony door into the banquet hall. She slipped back through the palace like a whisper and out into the grounds of Lindon, winding her way along the paths to the forge. 

She could have taken a quicker route, cut through the forests as she usually did, but nerves slowed her. As much as she wanted to reach him, she also dreaded it. She touched her lips, remembering the way his had felt against them. The way his hands had felt in her hair. 

The forge finally had a door and she debated knocking but it felt too loud in the quiet night. She pushed it and it opened smoothly on its new hinges. She could see Celebrimbor’s back, where he lay over his work table, his head resting on his arms. Her lips pulled into a fond smile. This was more of what she had expected from the greatest of elven smiths.

She slipped into the forge and walked to the work table. She agonized silently for a long moment before deciding how to wake him. She put her hand on his arm. 

He sat up immediately, eyes finding hers and relaxing. He smiled and wiped his mouth. 

“What time is it? I got caught up working.”

“It is past midnight, I thought you might like to get up and come to bed. I mean, go to bed.” She could feel her face heating. That had not come out how she intended. 

He laughed. The sound was so cheerful that she found herself smiling back. 

“I have heard tales of silvan elves being so charming that they can make you fall in love with them in a single night, I am beginning to think you aren’t actually from the Greenwood at all.”

She shoved his arm playfully. “That was not what I meant. And at least I’m more charming than you.”

“You’re more charming than you think.” His face turned serious and he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “Maybe it took longer than a single night, but you have captured my heart.” 

Her breath caught as he leaned closer so that his lips were nearly touching hers. 

“Have I captured yours?” He asked against her mouth. 

She moved to kiss him but he pulled away slightly. He wanted the answer. 

“Yes.” She said, and closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. He pulled her towards him until she was standing between his legs. Even sitting in the chair he was taller than her. He kissed her softly for several moments, until she was breathless. Then he pulled away, gently untangling her hands from his hair and clasping them in his own. 

“If I remember correctly, this is not the right place for this sort of thing.” He said it sternly, but there was a twinkle in his eye. 

“No, you are right. It is not. Shall I take my leave then?” She pulled her hands away and turned towards the door. 

He was out of the chair in an instant and caught her arms, pulling her backwards until her back was pressed against his body. He trailed his lips over her ear and down the side of her neck, and she made a choked sound in her throat. 

“Come to bed with me, Ninaelhel.” He said it softly, a command and a question. She nodded, unable to speak. He turned her around and kissed her soundly before releasing her and turning to douse the lamps and fire. 

They made their way through the dark forest hand in hand. Every so often he would pull her close and kiss her. Ninaelhel felt like she was floating, the only thing grounding her was his hand in hers and his lips on hers, on her neck, her ears. By the time they made it to his rooms she felt like she was melting. He let her in and closed the door behind them, locking it. 

He lit a lamp and she gazed around her and his room- as undecorated as her own, despite how long he had been in Lindon. He saw her looking and gave a small laugh. 

“I did not see much point in doing anything with the place, before you came. And since, well- I haven’t had any time. It is a bit plain. Perhaps you can help me do something about that.”

She smiled. “Of course.” 

He came over to her and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes. “That is for tomorrow though. Tonight, I want to see you.”

She sucked in a breath. The intensity in his eyes reminded her of the brief moments she had seen him absorbed in his work in the forge. Feeling that gaze on her now was intoxicating. 

She stepped back from him, her shaking hands coming to the ties of her bodice. He stayed where he was, and watched her as she discarded the bodice on the floor. Then her soft boots, and leggings. The only thing left was her long split dress. She met his eyes and the wanting she found there took her breath away. She pulled the dress off and let it drop to the floor. 

In an instant he was on her, his mouth pressing to hers as his hands slid over her exposed skin. She slid her tongue into his mouth and was met with a breathy sound that was half moan, half gasp. He cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her against him. She could feel him, already hard against her belly. 

She tugged at the laces of his shirt and he pulled back to undo them and throw the shirt somewhere behind him. She stroked his chest appreciatively- he was not as muscular as the warriors she had seen, but he was broad and strong in his way. He led her to the bed and guided her to lay down against the pillows, covering her with his body.

He pressed her down into the bed, kissing along her neck. One of his hands found its way to her breast and kneaded it, the sensation making her moan. His hands were like fire. He kissed his way down her neck and took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. She arched on the bed and he laughed against her breast. He turned to give her other breast the same treatment as he slid his hand up the inside of her naked thigh. 

She held her breath. She ached . His hand finally made it to the apex of his thighs and he rested his palm against her cunt. She moaned and he lifted his head to kiss her, holding himself above her with one hand as the other began to trace her slit. 

He parted her folds with one finger and moaned at the same time she did.

“You’re so wet.” He traced his finger in a circle around her clit and her hips bucked involuntarily. “Do you like that?” He asked. 

“Yes,” she breathed out in a moan. 

“Good, then you will like this, too.” He said and began to trace kisses back down her neck, over her breasts, and across her belly. He came to rest laying between her legs with his mouth hovering over her cunt. 

He looked up at her and she expected him to ask but he didn’t. He kept his eyes on hers as he leaned forward and dragged his tongue through her folds to circle her clit. 

She couldn’t keep her eyes open after that. She gripped the bed linens with both hands as he licked her as though she was his last meal, devouring her with his lips and tongue and teeth while he held her hips down. She felt herself winding tighter and tighter until-

He stopped and looked at her. She met his gaze and leaned forward to give her clit a soft kiss. She shuddered. 

He crawled up her body and kissed her thoroughly. She could taste herself in his mouth and it made her hips jerk against his, making him moan. She could feel how hard he was, like an iron bar. She reached down and fumbled with the ties on his pants but he pushed her hands away and untied them himself, freeing his cock. It instantly pressed against her mound, thick and heavy. She shifted and it slid over her clit and between her lips. They both moaned. 

He reached down and grasped his cock, sliding it up and down her slit a few times before pressing forward, forward, forward until the head breached her. 

He made a sound in his throat and bit down on her shoulder. He seemed to lose control for a moment and moaned loudly as he pressed himself into her until he was seated to the hilt. He stayed that way for a moment, seeming to catch his breath. 

He lifted his head until he could see her face and kissed her sweetly. He pressed their foreheads together and slowly started to rock his hips. She felt her body taking over as she matched his rhythm. She reached up and wrapped her arms around him and he pressed himself closer to her, burying his face in her neck and he began to thrust faster and harder. She felt the pressure building again. He shifted so he could slip his hand between their bodies and started to firmly rub her clit. She gasped and felt herself start to tip towards climax. Then she was breaking apart, clenching around him. He groaned in her ear and thrust into her hard, spilling as deep into her as he could go. He stayed like that for a moment as they caught their breath. 

He gently slid out of her and collapsed on the bed next to her. She felt the chill air of the room with him gone, but before she could open her mouth he pulled a blanket from the bottom of the bed and covered them both, pulling her against his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes before curiosity got the better of her. 

“What are you thinking about?”

He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “You.”

“What about me?”

He shifted so he could look at her. “I was wondering if you would tell me where you had learned black speech.”

Ah. He didn’t seem concerned, only curious.  

“Oh. I don’t know, actually. That is what I was speaking when I was found.”

“Found?”

She nodded. “When I was very small, Thranduil found me in the Greenwood, abandoned. I could only speak in black speech and was dressed in rags but he said I was healthy and seemed well-cared for.”

“Where were your parents?”

She sat up on the bed and he joined her, leaning against the headboard. “That’s the thing- no one knows. None of the Greenwood guards ever found any sign of anyone else in the forest. When I came of age I went looking too, but I never found anything.”

“That must have driven you crazy.” 

She thought for a moment. “It did, for a long time. But eventually I realized that I wasn’t going to solve the mystery. Likely my parents left me where they knew I would be found. And I probably wouldn’t want to know who they were anyway. If the black speech is any indication.”

He took her hand. “True. In my opinion, knowing your origins is a double-edged sword. And sometimes it feels as though both edges are facing you. Speaking of which, I have something for you.” 

He got up and crossed the room to his table. She admired his body in the lamplight- the lean lines and shadows. 

He came back and put a book in her hands, she looked down and realized it was the book she had dropped that day she had found him having his panic attack at the forge. 

“Open it.” He said.

She opened the cover of the book and gasped- he had carved out the center of the pages and created a box. Nestled inside were two small swords. She set the book down and lifted them out, laughing when she realized they were combs. 

“I noticed that you rarely wore anything in your hair and thought I might make you something suitable. Do you like them?” 

She looked up at him and saw that he seemed nervous. “I love them.” She said, turning them over in her hands. They were perfect in every detail, with small green gems set in the hilts and leaves carved down the curving blades. She set them back into the box. “They are beautiful, I can’t wait to wear them! But I think the librarian is going to kill me for what you’ve done to this book.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I will talk to him- I’m sure I can find another copy if he needs one. Anyway, it’s not a very accurate history.”

“No?”

He sat down on the bed and took the box from her, placing it on the beside table. He laid down and pulled her close so that she lay nestled along his side with her head on his chest. He seemed to enjoy just touching her and holding her.

He cleared his throat and began. “The story starts with my grandfather. Well, really it started with the two trees, but that part isn’t that important. What is important is-”

She lay against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his voice as he told her the story- his story- of the Silmarils.

Chapter Text

Celebrimbor became known for his work throughout Middle earth. Elves, and men, and sometimes even dwarves, came to him and he helped them. Little by little, the shadow lifted from his heart until once again his forge was a place of peace and beauty. 

He expanded it after only a year, adding a second room for Ninaelhel to forge her blades, which were becoming quite good. He took quiet pride in how far she had come so quickly. They work together in the forge every day- calling back and forth through the open doorway between their rooms in the kind of conversation that never really ends. Each night, unless one or both is caught up in some project, they retire to their rooms and make love until they are sweaty and spent. 

The war begins in earnest, and they spend more and more time forging blades and armor. Some nights they sleep in the forge, wrapped in each other’s arms. There is fear, but there is also so much joy. They lean on each other and find the beauty in each day. 

Celebrimbor marries her on the last warm night of summer, on the eve of a great campaign against Sauron. Gil-galad himself performs the ceremony and King Oropher gives her away. Many of the elves of the Greenwood have come to Lindon for the wedding It is a night of feasting and dancing and merriment. 

Celebrimbor pulls her aside and she frowns at the look on his face. 

“What troubles you, my love?” She asks.

“I think that this is the last night that all of our friends will be together. I feel it in my heart.”

Her eyes soften and she takes his hands in her own.

 “Then let us make it a happy memory. Come, dance with me.”

They dance under the sparkling of a hundred lamps and a thousand stars, to the music that only the elven folk can make.