Work Text:
"What do you mean: apprentice?"
Celebrimbor put a strand of hair behind his ear. Too short to be braided—the result of a minor accident. "This is a part of becoming a master. She has to show, in front of the whole guild, that she can teach. And if would be unfair to have her teach a child—both for her, as children vary greatly in skill, and for the child, to be taught by an unproven master."
He glanced up from the document. Annatar still didn't seem to comprehend, so he continued. "Therefore it's the custom to have the would-be master pick a subject that's new to one of the established masters — and teach him or her. Of course, I would love to learn how to brew Sindarin pine beer, but since you are here, my lord, of course you are the most natural—" Celebrimbor shook his head. "But no, forgive my foolishness, of course you surely know it already! Or are Sindarin crafts new even..." He did not finish, unwilling to be the first to say what hasn't been said openly yet, just impled.
Was his guest sent by the Valar, or did he came to help less formally, just, with their quiet approval? Or…without it? But this surely would not be possible.
Certainly he came from the West. That much was obvious.
"This," said Annatar, "is an absurd custom. It turns everything upside down. What will you do next, start giving out presents on your own begetting day?"
"I can't see how that could harm anyone—" Celebrimbor bit his tongue. That was not his father, that was an emissary of the Valar. He deserved politeness, even when he seemed to offer none of it himself. The Valar ruled Arda, after all. (The need to please Annatar was not about Father. Nor about the uncles, even the kind ones. It wasn't about the question which Celebrimbor would not ask anyway, which he dared not to ask, because then he might receive an answer.) "I apologize if my offer offended you, my lord. If you do not want to, I will gladly let her teach me."
Annatar studied him, with motionless face, like one of grandmother's sculptures. No, not even like one of them, as they were never so perfect, they were more... Alive? The emissary emanated with something greater than the perfection of art or life. Beauty so profound that it left no place for any other kind of beauty. Timelessness. The bliss of Valinor brought to Middle Earth.
Finally, he spoke, in a voice as flawless as his looks. "Do as you will. I am glad to see that you're open to learning new things... I wonder how you shall do with something more difficult though."
"Try me." Celebrimbor bowed slightly, and too late realized that his words have again been less than polite.
Fortunately, Annatar smiled. "Not yet. There will be time for trials, there will be time for learning, and there will be time for... more subtle questions. But I promise you, before I'm done here, you will know things you cannot yet even imagine."