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“Can I pet that dog!” Celebrimbor heard a shrill voice cry out loud, and as quickly as he could, he ran around the corner of one of the many buildings in Aule’s halls from which the voice emanated - Aule didn’t keep dogs, did he?
Why had he ever allowed Annatar to accompany him! Actually, he hadn’t; however, it appeared that he had not thoroughly examined his bags. Cursed Úmaia!
“No,” a clear voice rang through the air, and Celebrimbor stopped abruptly, taking in the bizarre sight before him.
There, standing with an air of authority, was a Maia, Manwë’s herald to be more precise, holding - of all things - an orc? Not just any orc, mind you, but one with a shock of vibrant orange hair, adorned in a sweater??
Before them was Annatar, his behavior utterly carefree as he gnawed on a ball of red yarn, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation, and the danger he had walked right into. It was as though he had discovered the greatest treasure of Eä, a whimsical delight that eclipsed any of the grand designs they had ever conjured, and decided it was worth more than his and Celebrimbor´s safety. Now that he thought it over, it wasn´t really that surprising. Annatar had a thing with obsessing in the most unhealthy way possible. Well, maybe a bit better than Heru, but that was not the point here!
As he pranced about, tail wagging enthusiastically, he rolled on the ground with delighted grunts and playful wuffs, eliciting laughter from the orc who kept trying to reach his arms out as if to pet the mass murdering Úmaia while the Maia held it back.
He sure hoped the Maia wasn´t here for his Annatar, after all the Valar had unofficially let him keep Annatar by not interfering! Right!? And it looked like the Maia was in charge of… the orc, and not the recapture of the weakest Úmaia that might just exist.
“I want to pet that dog!!”
“No, no,” the Maia laughed at the orc as Celebrimbor walked closer, “look, the dog’s friend is here to pick him up, yeah?”
Slowly, while keeping the Maia and the squealing orc in sight, Celebrimbor walked over to Annatar, who quickly stood up and walked a bit to the side with his yarn before continuing to roll around and gnaw at it with unrestrained glee.
“Anna,” he whispered, as he walked closer and knelt beside the Úmaia, “we have to go home now—”
“I want to pet your dog!” the orc exclaimed loudly, and Celebrimbor, startled by the outburst, quickly captured Annatar, who was now growling, hopefully playfully, in his arms as he abruptly stood up.
“Erm… I-I—” was he seeing right, or was the orc holding two other yarn balls?
“Is it your yarn…?” he finally dared to ask, and when the orc nodded, a beaming smile illuminating his rugged features, Celebrimbor hurriedly wrenched the red yarn from Annatar’s eager jaw as he slowly stepped closer to the smiling Maia - did he look nervous? No… But for what?
“And here,” he offered the now very wet and somewhat disgusting yarn clump over to the orc, who took it with eager hands, his eyes sparkling with delight as he again asked if he could pet Annatar while reaching his hand out.
“Erm… he bites…” Celebrimbor informed him, wrestling his sleeve out of Annatar’s mouth. It was important to note that Annatar never truly bit him to inflict harm; his playful nips were simply a testament to his exuberant spirit. After all, he always listened and obeyed when Celebrimbor told him to do something. However, when Atto, Elrond, and Finrod voiced their concerns, they often forgot that they had been the hostile ones to start, and Annatar was merely trying to protect himself if he felt like he couldn´t retreat.
“I want to pet him,” the orc stated matter of factly, “what’s his name?”
“Anna… what’s… what’s yours?” Celebrimbor asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he regarded the orc’s face.
At the question, the orc looked up to the Maia, his face uncertain.
“Urundil,” the Maia answered with a shrug, casting a somewhat apologetic glance in the orc’s direction, as if to make amends for… for something.
“Ah… I see,” Celebrimbor replied, his voice softening as he held Annatar, still clinging to him, out for a quick head pat before the orc, to be rewarded with a joyful laugh, after the… after Urundil had touched Annatar´s soft fur.
Not a week after, a sweater, wolf sized, arrived at Haru’s manor, accompanied by a letter from Manwë’s herald, which spoke of a peculiar proposal about… a playdate?