Chapter Text
From the private journals of Telperinquar, also called Celebrimbor, Son of Curufinwë, the late Lord of Eregion, last scion of Fëanáro, written to account his personal history.
It was in the more glorious ages when we still lived on our beautiful Valinor, in my youth, that my life changed for the first time. These events came to take place during the long period of bountiful inventions – my grandfather, having gotten it into his mind that he should capture the feeling of drifting in a lake surrounded only by stars, as above so below, in one of his gemstones, had sent me to gather records and tales by some of the very first of our kind that had awakened by the beautiful lake we now call Helcar in Cuiviénen . My grandfather‘s father had been there himself, but he wished for varied reports, thinking that he himself should be able to capture the feelings of many in just one object.
You must know, by now, that my grandfather was a very peculiar man, high-strung and ambitious, thinking himself a genius. He actually was one, so few could argue against him too deeply, which was his saving grace for many years to many minds. But there is little need for me to drone on about him. If there is much interest in reading my journal by those who come after me, they will know what kind of man he was, and all he did, in great detail, he will have made sure of it.
But as I was saying, he had sent me on a journey of research and I, having been more fearful in my youth than I am now, was desperately afraid of my grandfather's fiery temper, and so in a hurry to finish this task. I thought myself able to complete it so truly and perfectly to his satisfaction, that he would surely, immediately, take me on as his closest confidante and assistant, the dreams of an ambitious youth such as one I was.
Fast steps were taking me down the cloister, marbled and marvelous, with greatly decorated pillars, and a view on the left inside the courtyard, on the right towards the ocean, the villa sitting high on a cliff, a stiff breeze coming in with the sunlight. I had gone to the mansions of Aulë, thinking myself clever to ask one of the Makers himself. I knew him to be, to my luck, extremely talkative yet was considering, as I rushed, the negatives to this trait, fearing the length of time he would steal from me, and how this would stoke my grandfather‘s disagreeability. In my rushing and thinking and glamorous manner of dress I had put on for meeting one of the Makers, I stumbled and nearly fell, catching my balance only at the last moment.
It was then, in that embarrassment, that I first saw him, he who was to become not only my reason for writing this, but for some years also my reason for working, creating, even downright existing.
Of course, he saw me long before I saw him. In fact, it was his little laugh at my stumble that drew my eye to him. Back then, he had red hair, though his form was lithe as he prefers it. The red hair he had bound into intricate plaits with rings of gold and his robes were very splendid, in the manner of a noble high-lord, so I mistook him for one at first. He stood by the pillar and jingled with his plentiful jewelry as he swayed a little while laughing. It was a very sweet laugh, sweet enough to fool anyone that would hear it into thinking him as sweet as it. I wondered, then, in the matter of just one or two blinks, why I had not known of a Lord so beautiful.
To understand why I thought this, I must tell you of a rather foolish anecdote of my younger life, a vice that still occasionally captures me. I had always been, and of course still was, if subdued, an admirer of great beauty. In current days, most of it goes into my work, but as a youth my admiration was most often given to Lords of the court, or craftsmen, speechmakers, or anyone with extraordinary beauty. My friends in those times used to tease me about it, calling me a hummingbird, meaning I was flighty and hectic and wandered from beauty to beauty quickly. I admit that my admiration was freely and easily given, but I would not say that I was very much like a hummingbird, as I never mustered up the courage to approach anyone and even if I did would likely have been rejected. But my years at my grandfathers and great-grandfathers court had familiarized me with almost all Lords, lesser and greater, and their sons, especially the most beautiful ones. So you now may be able to understand why it was that I wondered at not knowing this beautiful nobleman.
He spoke, and his voice was very silky, as it still is today. “Quite clumsy, aren’t we?” he said, smiling.
This greatly startled me and perhaps even offended me back then in my youthful pride, so I answered him rather roughly, asking him in turn: “Can I help you?”
He looked at me, and though he had stopped laughing, it seemed to me still as though he were laughing at me in his mind and with his eyes. He pretended to think for a little while (and I am certain he pretended, though back then I was not able to tell), making a little thoughtful noise, and then finally seemed to come to a conclusion, this conclusion being that he was indifferent to me and all the world. “No,” he simply said.
Annoyed at this beautiful creature, I decided to put him behind me and continue on my quest, so I searched for his eyes to give him a court nod and get on my way.
But when I saw them, his eyes, one of the strangest things of my life began to unfold and I have never gotten out of the cascade of consequences that were let loose from locking eyes with him. My life, perhaps, would have been very different, had I simply hurried away from him without giving a second thought to manners at all.
His eyes, deep and dark like wells, locked onto mine, less deep I imagine, and as I felt his eyes on mine, I saw them widen as in recognition for just the shortest fraction of a breath, and just as I saw this, I felt a bolt of lightning shock me right into the marrow of my bones. It left me even more disoriented, but at that moment I blamed it on seeing recognition in a face unknown to me, a feeling almost as strange as the electrification of your very bone marrow.
He seemed to have experienced something similar, or perhaps the recognition was shock enough, so he quickly stepped up to me, very close and laid on my cheek, that had grown very hot, his cool hand with rings on it that were cooler still. All the facetious mirth his face had worn before was gone and he looked as serious as a storm that means to destroy all your crops for a season.
“Who are you?” he asked me, voice less smooth now but still pleasant.
In my stupor that had, to my credit, been induced by a great many variety of things, I struggled to answer him and instead attempted to take a step back, but he followed, pressing closer to me, which did not help my troubled mind.
He spoke again and said slowly and in a low voice, almost as if he were speaking to himself: “I know you. Where do I know you from?”
I told him that I did not believe I had ever met him before and took another step back, but I ended up with my back against the wall and he came closer still, hand still locked onto my jaw like I owed him a grand prize money from a game of dice.
“You must know my grandfather, or father. People often say I look like them. Or perhaps you know one of my uncles even,” I continued hastily, face growing even hotter under his touch. “They are all well known, I am not.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I worried about my dressrobes. It was absurd, but they were truly my most elegant clothes and I did not want them to be dusty, especially not before stepping before Lord-maker Aulë.
“No,” he said firmly, suddenly fingering my hair as though he were investigating. “It is you I know, it must be.”
“My Lord,” I said, my worry for my robes slowly morphing into worry for my self.
Yet, he interrupted me with his rising voice, repeating his “No!” once more and then adding: “You have never called me that.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that and to my great shame and embarrassment recall making a small, whimpering noise that echoed down the marble tiled floor of the cloister.
“Who are you?” the inquiry came again. He had both of his hands on my face now, forcing me to look at him. “What is your name?”
“I am Telperinquar, son of Curufinwë of the House of Fëanáro, Finwë‘s First-born,” I stammered out. It was the formal introduction that I had known by heart since I was only just beginning to toddle around my father‘s courtyard, so it was something I was able to say on pure reflexes and instinct, without getting out of my dazed condition.
He looked at me more intensely still, his desire appearing to be the boring of two holes into my very skull by the mere power of his eyes. Overwhelmed as I was, I began to genuinely fear for my skulls wellbeing. Looking back now, I regret my behavior at this time, though I can forgive myself for it, young as I was.
“I have met your grandfather,” he then said to me. “A deeply unpleasant person. I do not see him in you.”
Being unsure whether to take this as a full compliment or a hidden insult, for everyone knew of my grandfather's great mind and creativity, actually sobered me enough with its distraction and I managed to form a proper thought and speak once more.
“He is controversial,” I agreed. “But one must concede to him his brilliance.” Feeling more confident by this small success, I boldly ventured to ask him a question in turn, and politely requested his name, being careful not to call him Lord or any other title.
At this, he smiled, and the entirety of our meeting seemed to soften. “I am admirable,” he said. “And that is what you may call me.”
I nodded gratefully as he unhanded me.
All the rest of the encounter seems to me now to lie in a dark haze, unreachable by precise memory, but I am certain it did not last long and while we failed to solve the mystery of his recognition, he promised me to seek me out again, which I, being, as you remember, an admirer of beauty, already looked forward to as we parted. Of my talk with Lord Aulë I remember even less, but I recall being the target of my grandfather’s ire little time later, so whatever information I brought to him must not have been satisfactory.
Notes:
thank you for reading! <3
Chapter 2: Second
Notes:
okay so this small idea suddenly developed into a lot more, so there‘s gonna be more becaue i‘m having lots of fun playing with this set up!! groundhog day situation has been cancelled, we‘re going with premonition
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
My second meeting with him who had charged me to call him Admirable was similarly eventful in the way that little happened but all that did had my mind and heart racing. I had, at this point, not yet realized his identity, though you may think me a fool for it. He seemed to me a mysterious Lord of high standing that had taken a fancy to me and had planned to approach me in an unusual manner. This was of most sound logic to me, having correctly identified him as one who enjoys vexing others and even with what I know now, I would not put it past him to deliberately stage such an encounter to stir his target's curiosity and wonder.
I was distracted that day, sitting out in the sun on the grassy hills interspersed with great rocks behind the mansions of my father with my friends, listening to them talk, play dice, and laugh in some little jest, thinking about the strange meeting that I had taken part in just days ago. While I could not say why, I had not told anyone of it, and so he had remained my very own secret, though my friends teased me for my absent-mindedness, saying that surely I had found yet again a new object of my affections.
Eldalótë, who was my very distant cousin, the kind of cousin you really only call so because of close friendship with another family, and one of the few women that were part of my close group of friends at that time was the first to spot him.
She had the mind and will of a great warrior and disliked few things more than weaving, quite in opposition to what was expected of a lady of her standing and age. Her father had been lenient when she was younger, having always wished for a son, and so practised huntsmanship and the sport of running with her, but now had trouble making her see the sense in the proper way he wished for her to take, so she spent a lot of time on my grandfather’s or father‘s estates.
For all their flaws, I must say that my family was one of the few who were even more lenient than Eldalótë‘s father in matters such as this – my great-grandfather having broken one of the greatest laws himself in his remarriage did not see it fit to dictate to his daughters what they could and could not do, and so one of my great-aunts had become a speechmaker, famous for her wit, and a cousin and close friend of my father‘s was a great hunter, while another had great talent for sporting games and competed with the men, taking home trophies at steady intervals. This tendency of my family’s only added onto their general controversy in Lord Manwë‘s court, but once more my grandfather‘s brilliance allowed us to take more room than other‘s might have been granted.
As Eldalótë saw him approach, she, noting that he was very beautiful indeed, called out to our friends, laughing: “Watch out for our hummingbird, he may fly away if he spots this particular flower!” and all erupted in great laughter at my expense.
This roused me from my deep thoughts and I looked up to see the very subject of my day-dreams walk towards me, seeming to me like a fantasy had just become reality. It was a talent he had, and still has, to give you the impression of a dream come true.
“Telperinquar,” he said, the wind playing in his hair, approaching me still under the subdued amusement of my friends. “Will you come walk with me?”
This, you must know, was not at all the correct way for a Lord such as he appeared to be, to reach out to a young man such as myself, who was still living on his father‘s lands and not yet established on his own. Following propriety, he should have spoken to me only in my father‘s courtyard or at an official banquet, especially so being a stranger to me and, I assumed, my family.
My friends, mature as they were, thought it great fun and whispered to each other that I might have finally succeeded in the matters of love as I went with him, for of course I did, secretly having wished for him to come to me again all of the time since we had parted.
What I have neglected to tell you so far, running the risk of being thought of as extremely superficial, are my past self‘s interests beyond the admiration of beautiful men. While I was young and caught up in earthly affairs and desires, a part of me had already begun to dream of greatness after my grandfather, hoping that it was perhaps I who would be his intellectual heir. I had drawn up plans and ideas on many hidden piles of bound parchment, visions of beauty I wanted to realize, dreams for the world around me, while in my skill I was not yet able to realize any but the smallest of them. What I mean, chiefly, is that my ambition was steadily growing when I was at that age, and I fancied myself at the beginning of a grand career as a craftsman.
As he beckoned me to come with him I told my friends I should be back again soon but to not wait on me. They all smiled mischievously and Eldalótë, again, feeling bold that day, called after me to remember to put my robes back on the right way! After which everyone erupted in laughter and I hurried my step away from them. I walked with him in silence for just a little while until he spoke again.
“I have embarrassed you,” he said smoothly. “For that, I am sorry.”
“No, no,” I hurried to say. “It is not you, it is them and their silly minds driving them to wild assumptions.”
His eyes were twinkling as he spoke, like he was again laughing at me, secretly, inside of him. “What assumptions may those be?“
Again, as before, my face went very red indeed at this question, and now he laughed openly, as so many had done that day.
“You mustn’t answer me,” he said to me, laughing.
I was relieved and asked him instead, why he had wanted to speak to me. At this he looked at me thoughtfully, studying my face once more.
“I need to know why it is that I know you,” he said more seriously. “When I look at your face, it seems familiar to me, and…” he paused as if for dramatic effect and looking back, I am sure it was for that very purpose, “Important.”
I preened internally at this but tried my best to not let it be seen on the outside.
“Perhaps Irmo has sent you a message,” I boldly suggested, thinking myself quite the charmer. He laughed again, but with less mirth.
“Not to me, surely!” he exclaimed. “And if so, not of this kind, no. This,” he added, having seen my dismayed expression, “does not mean I don’t think of meeting you as a blessing.” His words had such an effect on my emotional state, I felt near nauseous from the quick journey from joy to distress and back to joy again, and nodded eagerly. I cringe now, thinking back to this, how I fussed and jumped at him like a puppy, lapping up any attention he gave me, but such is the folly of youth I fear. I can happily say that I was less adoring when he came to the gates of Eregion thousands of years later.
We continued to walk and we talked of nothing and everything, in the typical manner of courtship, making me feel dizzy with excitement, but I did my best to keep calm and make proper conversation, nervous to impress him with my wit and eloquence. He was a smith, as he still is, not only of metals but words, too, and the way he spoke about the world around us enchanted me. “Look here,” he said at one point and he showed to me a small, golden flower, a common Elenar . He held it between his long fingers, turning it towards us but careful not to snap its thin stem, as if he were handling a fragile animal. “The symmetry is perfect. Not all of these flowers are immaculate like this, so we must appreciate the ones that achieve perfection more so for it.”
I remember thinking on that evening that here was someone who understood the true beauty of everything, who was a true admirer of things, and it kindled within me the burning desire to love the world the same as he did. I did not hear what remained unspoken, the silent disdain for all that could not fit into the perfect symmetry of his mind.
When I returned to the spot where my friends had sat, the sun had set and they had all gone, with the exception of Eldalótë who had begun to run laps around the rock-formation in her boredom.
“Hello, Tyelpe!” she said, just slightly out of breath and desperately curious. “Do you suppose we will see your beautiful lord again?”
I myself did not really know the answer to this, but I thought it likely. I smiled at her as mysteriously as I could and said: “Perhaps you will!” and I quickly absconded, grateful though I was for her waiting around, I wanted to keep him to myself for now.
Later, when I spoke to my grandfather, I mentioned to him the still strange yet admirable lord that had sought me out. My grandfather reacted in great shock and asked many questions to reassure himself he had guessed right. It was then that I learned not only the extent of my new acquaintance’s deeds, up to that point in time, meaning that they were much lesser than they are now but still very much things to talk about, but also that he was not simply a lord.
You, reader, having more insight and knowledge than my younger self, likely have guessed a long time ago that this is the story of how I fell into the hands and wiles of Mairon, the Admirable, who was later known as Sauron, the Abominable, and to me, briefly, as Annatar, a Maia, almost a god.
As I write this, he has been gone from my courts in Eregion for a few years now, having left me in a terrible, burning rage that I had never seen on him before and that I found most unfitting for him, but what must be the most common form of expression everyone else knows him under. My reason for putting everything to paper is mostly to better my own character in the eyes of history, vain as I am. I should be judged, of course, but perhaps forgiveness can come to the people more easily if they understand how beguiling he was at times, how beautiful, for it is not for nothing that they call him Deceiver as well as Seducer.
If you again now travel back to the past with me, where the story continues, I will tell you what it is that my grandfather and I discussed.
Notes:
i attempted to translate elanor into quenya but realize that it was nearly the same, so just a disclaimer that i did not misspell it haha
thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: Third
Chapter Text
My grandfather had scared me badly when I was a child and he still did as I had grown into a youth, so when he suddenly started to ask all these pressing questions I was quivering in my seat. My father, who deferred to my grandfather even in his own home, gave me a mean look for ruining the evening. Lucky as I was, my answers were satisfactory, and my grandfather nodded and mumbled to himself for a while.
I heeded him little, for the shock of learning that I had been consorting with a Maia without my knowledge and, more importantly, that he had been consorting with me, young and unimportant though I was, had sent me into a deep confusion as I tried to make sense of it. It worried me now, his knowing me. It seemed to me then, correctly, to spell out a grim future for me, my fate intertwined with a powerful, magical being. You must remember that, being born long after my kindred had reached Aman, I knew little of Thingol and Melian and did not know that doom between Maiar and Elves was not preordained, though in my case it of course was. Perhaps I would have felt the same grim destiny in my future at this moment, even if I had known of happier possibilities, a glimpse of what was to come granted to me by Irmo or even Eru himself.
As I continued to spiral into my silent panic, my grandfather spoke again, loudly and in a manner of excitement I had rarely seen from him.
“Telperinquar,” he all but shouted. “You must,” and he really emphasized this word, “pursue your connection to him.”
Looking at him uncomprehending, for my grandfather had just informed me that he did not trust my new friend for his close companionship to Melkor, as he was called then, for whom he felt the furthest thing from love, I remained silent.
My grandfather continued and his agitation rose. “You shall be my eyes and ears, striking near the heart of my foe!” he exclaimed. This felt strange to me, for at this point our by now old enemy had done little in my hundred years of memory that seemed bad – I was not able to recall fully what had even occurred, only that he had been pardoned by Manwë himself. Melkor, to me, seemed misguided and with a tendency for destruction, but I did not feel threatened in my person or way of life by him.
My grandfather’s obsession with him, which had always bordered on manic, seemed to increase itself tenfold over the course of this evening, and he pleaded with me, yes, pleaded, really, to discreetly gather any word that I could on him and his plans. He was persuasive and forceful, and so I agreed to try my best to ask a few pointed questions and to bring anything of note back to him. He patted me on the back, satisfied, and my father nodded to me appreciatively. I like to think he was proud of me in that moment though I must assure you that as I am now, I am not proud of it, neither my actions nor my thoughts, for the latter were foolish and the former dishonest.
My father was a man I had even more difficulties with than my grandfather, for the approval of Fëanàro was something I longed for, while for my father I felt little but contempt, as he surely did for me. I think he had grown bitter in the long years of being nothing more than my grandfather‘s shadow. I, being young, had only just begun to taste it, slowly becoming used to being told that I looked just like him. I often felt that my father hated me, for I seemed to have taken the only part of his identity that was unique to him, namely similarity to my grandfather, leaving him with nothing. Yet every time I thought of my father, I was glad, if only for my name, for he himself was not only named by my grandmother for his resemblance to my grandfather, he also bore, through my grandfather’s generosity, the same name he did and it very easily could have become my name as well, which some miracle had prevented.
This miracle must have been my mother. I have neglected to mention her so far, which is not proper, especially not for a woman of such importance to me, but the grief makes me want to hide her away, and keep her all to myself, a tendency of mine you have already noted. I could not tell you what had possessed my wonderful mother to marry my father, as she despised my grandfather deeply, but love is often hard or even impossible to understand, and I do not think that I, of all people, am fit to judge anyone on this matter.
When I was still young, or rather, younger still than I was when all this took place, my mother had been my closest friend. I would sit by her loom and listen to her and her ladies talk and weave and discuss the current events. I daresay that I learned more from sitting once with my mother than from all the few times I had shadowed my father and grandfather at Manwë‘s court. My mother would have been a grand stateswoman and lawmaker, I believe, had she gotten the chance for it, but she was lost to us when I had not yet come of age. My father had told me I was too young to understand what had happened, nowadays I believe that she was enticed into Nessa’s dancing reigns, and somewhere in Aman she surely still dances. I understand what drove her away, but still I miss her terribly.
Other family members I have neglected to mention are my numerous uncles. There is little that needs to be said on their character, for they are, for the most part, as well known to the public eye as they are to me.
The oldest, my grandfather‘s presumed heir, was a serious man who always felt punished, I believe, by the role he was made to play, but who played it uncomplaining nevertheless, suffering in silence. My grandfather stayed with him near as often as he did with us, for as you must know it was during this time that my grandmother had begun to voice her disdain for him and his plans, the first to do so in our family, and he avoided his estate as well as he could for fear of her. Makalaurë and Carnistir I saw rarely while Turcafinwë was best known to me, owing to his close friendship with my father and, having inherited the looks of my great-grandmother, my grandfather was gracious and almost kind with him. The Ambarussa were about as old as I was, but due to their preference for the city and their vicinity to my grandmother, no close friendship ever developed.
Lastly, to not overlook one of the greatest influences in my family, I must briefly speak of my grandmother, who was, and remains, I imagine, a true force. She matched my grandfather‘s talent and temper in all but his zealous obsession with both Melkor and the lands beyond the horizon, though she always knew when to be patient, unlike him. She, being unafraid of him, was his perfect match and as it were to come his perfect adversary as well. I sometimes think that she, with her disapproval, was the only person he was ever truly afraid of, even as he marched to battle.
Like I said before, she had all but thrown him out of his, rather their, estate, and so he split his time between his favorite sons, while she governed the lands herself. No one dared to stop her, so she became the first woman to control lands practically of her own, which many of my cousins admired. Thinking back to her, as I am sitting here now, alone in my chambers in Eregion and fearing the worst, I wish that I had sought her counsel more, had been closer with her. If Eru wills it, I shall see her again soon, across the sea.
I left dinner that night with an uneasy feeling. While my inital panic about being caught up with a Maia had subsided a little, I did not wish to be caught up in my grandfather‘s mania, nor did I wish to treat my new friend dishonorably and I was disappointed in myself for giving in to my grandfather‘s demands due to my own cowardice. My grandfather had told me that Mairon had been a close confidante to Melkor for a long time and apparently he had sought him out even while he was still imprisoned and unforgiven, but something inside of me did not want to truly believe this. Mairon had seemed to be venerable, insightful, and most of all beautiful, though I, being young, mistook looks for character.
I thought about this matter long and hard as I lay in bed that night, trying to reconcile my own wants and morals with those of my family. It seemed romantic to me eventually, being a spy, and it did make me feel important, like my actions were able to greatly impact the future of the world. I did not yet know that this was not a thing one should willingly wish for, if he had any sense at all.
Chapter Text
I met him again soon after this, almost as if by chance, but I believe he always came to me on purpose. I was alone this time, and perhaps he had intended to find me so, to spare me laughter from my friends, which I found quite thoughtful.
I had been walking along one of the great lakes, lost in thought and watching the ripples on the water left by a small water skeeter when suddenly a familiar voice said to me: “These patterns reveal more of the inner structure of the world to the eye than one would think. They are beautiful, are they not?”
I knew who it was without looking and answered, my eyes still on the water: “Indeed, dear friend.”
I had, in fact, been very nervous to meet him again after my grandfather had tasked me to all but spy on him, but had calmed from my initial agitation through enough thinking. This is a skill that still serves me well – often, people exacerbate their own worry and fear by turning the matter over in their mind too many times, but I was blessed with the ability to make everything seem better, easier, more optimistic through my thoughts. I have wondered sometimes if this can not also be a curse, if I do not simply delude myself with this manner of thinking, but the answer to that eludes me, and without this ability, I surely would have collapsed under the pressures of my life many times over.
So, owing to this trick of my mind, I had thought myself into the role of a spying seducer. It was not an honorable part to play, by no means, but it seemed romantic to my young self. Danger and love and above all influence on the tense political climate – I yearned for something to do, to be someone, to take part in the world. I was acting as an extension of my grandfather in truth, but in my mind I turned myself into a great hero, waiting for a dangerous rendezvous. Suddenly, my words had become powerful, were listened to and heeded by my grandfather as they never had been before.
Still by the lake, he suddenly stepped closer to me and I felt his hand ghost over my shoulder and I turned towards him. He pointed towards two distant birds, performing a complicated flight maneuver. “More natural patterns, still. If we observe enough, might we find the key to them? We are blessed to be given the time, are we not meant to find and use these patterns?”
It was a very interesting thought to me, though I felt ill-equipped to come up with a good response, so again I tried my hand at being romantic.
“They are performing a courtship flight,” I said. “Their pattern is made from love.”
“Is not every pattern born from the interconnectedness of this world?” he asked, eyes twinkling.
“Of course,” I said. “The birds will mate and catch the water skeeters for their hatchlings. Then they will die, and flies will lay eggs in their dead meat, and more flies will hatch. The water skeeters will mate and their children will eat the flies, and then the birds may eat the water skeeters again. Everything eats eachother.”
This made him smile. “But who shall eat the First-born?” he asked. “No flies may lay eggs onto your flesh.”
“Mosquitoes may drink my blood, if you must worry about my contribution to the world,” I told him. I had noticed by then that he was asking me many questions, which flattered me but did not befit my goal of espionage.
“Do you think the world would be more beautiful if the birds only flew their courting patterns?” I asked him.
“Or other patterns. And they already do, almost. They need some help perhaps, but here, in Valinor, everything is nearly perfect. It is the other lands that lack guidance,” he said almost sadly.
“It is kind that you wish to help,” I told him.
He regarded me sharply for a while and then said: “I have not met any other First-born who understands so clearly what I speak of.” I don’t believe he ever spoke to many of the Eldar, but I was flattered and he felt, somehow, understood.
“So it is that, which you had recognized on my face,” I joked, my face going warm. “You saw a kindred spirit.”
Again he looked at me, studying my face. “I think,” he finally said after some time, voice soft, “that I must know you from the future. That I recognized you, because I had to meet you.” It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps, that drive him to me. I am not sure he would have spoken to me seriously if it had not been for his strange vision of the future, yet that future only existed because he saw it.
I kissed him, then, overly excited and impatient and young as I was. It was short and swift and he gave me a smile for it but that is all he did, and we never spoke of it, but I have never minded. He seemed inevitable to me in every way, his presence in my future assured.
And though it took thousands of years, it was. When he came back to me, he kissed me many more times, but we truly never did mention the kiss by the great lake. It remains unblemished in my memory, standing out as a moment that took place on the border between dreaming and waking, a moment that belongs solely to itself and that will not rust or rot with time.
I was embarrassed that night, barely able to sleep, but not long after I met him in the forest where he appeared so suddenly that he surely had peeled himself out of a tree and he spoke to me normally, if not with a brighter smile, and I worried less and less after each meeting.
We never discussed his affiliation to Melkor or mine to my grandfather, and I must say that all in all I must have made a very bad spy, but even phrases such as “Melkor and his comrades strive for beauty.” (though who does not) and “Melkor is affiliated with a smith.” greatly encouraged my grandfather.
When he was banished from Túna for drawing his sword on my great-uncle, Nolofinwë, my father and many others went with him, but I, much like my grandmother, stayed. I explained to them that it was to further monitor my grandfather‘s foe, but it was not the full truth – I did not wish to leave the estate for my own purposes as well, for the dream of living on and husbanding lands of my own. And my meetings with Mairon, too, were only very partly motivated by my grandfather‘s desires and more so by my own.
I had not been present for the full altercation with Nolofinwë, as I had refused to follow them when they pursued my great-uncle out of my great-grandfather’s court, only for the process that occurred afterwards, but I learned what had happened from Eldalótë later on (for I would have never dared to ask my father or grandfather). She was a first-hand witness but was not able to attend the trial, for during the confrontation a wrangle among the respective peoples and followers of Fëanàro and Nolofinwë had broken out and Eldalótë, being present, had gotten her nose bloodied. She was made to lie down and missed the entire following treatise and later came to me, asking me what exactly had gone on. It was fortunate for us both that we could fill each other's gaps in knowledge and I explained the verdict to her easily, while she was able to enlighten me on exactly how it had come to that point.
It went down like this: My grandfather had pursued his father, our king, to call onto his court so that he may present vital information to all the Lords – this information he presented was the supposed treachery of Nolofinwë. Now this was something I had never once implied, so I am blameless in the befiring of at least this specific delusion that had taken hold of my grandfather during those times.
He assembled the court and he attempted to imprint on them that my great-uncle planned to usurp his position as heir to the king. He would not say how he had inferred this, simply stating that it was obvious. Nolofinwë said: “Brother, let us not quarrel like this. I never meant to show you disrespect to the extent you feel done unto yourself, and I apologize. I defer to you and your wisdom.”
But my grandfather did not feel amiable enough to listen to his words; the act of speaking was disrespectful enough to him already, and so he spoke, angrily: “Brother you call me, but you are as much my brothers as a common swine is. I disavow myself from you, who courts with my enemies and wishes for my downfall!”
Nolofinwë responded: “I bow to you with respect as my elder. All living beasts are brothers to each other, you, and I, and the swine.”
To this, Fëanàro pulled a curved sword. It was a new invention at the time, one that he had designed and crafted. “Face me now!” He demanded, “The enemy is deep in your mind and you have planned my death, but this I shall not allow!”
My great-uncle turned his back to my grandfather, bowed to Finwë, and walked away without dignifying the accusation with a response. I watched this under great duress as the offenses of my grandfather and father would surely fall back on me and stayed in my seat, frozen, as Fëanàro and his sons, my uncles and father, followed Nolofinwë to the agora. As you must long know by now, I was not brave and felt small most of the time. After a moment of shock, Nolofinwë‘s steward and his knights hurried after him, as did my grandfather‘s, and the hall went into great upheaval, while our king demanded peace and order.
For the part that took place on the agora, Eldalótë‘s perspective must be retold. She was not sitting in with the court, though her father was one of Finwë‘s lords, because she, as a woman, was not admitted (Finwë‘s leniency for the role of women extended, at least in proper court, no further than his close family and her father would have not allowed it in any case). Instead she waited near the halls, ready to catch any one leaving them and collect information on the happenings inside from him. When Nolofinwë walked out briskly he nearly ran her over, agitated as he was. She quickly made to follow him and ended up right on the frontlines of the circling crowd that Nolofinwë and Fëanàro had drawn.
My grandfather was still brandishing his sword and spoke loudly: “Halt, deceiver, and face me! I know you mean to dispose of me, but you shall not be able to strike the first blow!”
This deeply shocked everyone and a storm of whispers swept across the agora. Somebody, perhaps one of my uncles or my father, cried out: “Protect Finwë‘s heir!”
Suddenly, the whispers transformed into yells and someone badly jostled Eldalótë, she punched back and the entire crowd escalated into violence. What was lucky about this, was that the escalation of the common folk actually served to deescalate my grandfather and he took a step back, sheathing his sword, as my great-uncle disappeared into the crowd. Eldalótë, meanwhile, was punched right onto her nose, and started bleeding profusely. She and others were brought away by the swiftly arriving healers and so she missed Finwë finally taking action and calming the restless people on the agora, as well as the following assembly before Manwë that was instituted at a speed that I had not known the legal system capable of before.
It was decreed that my grandfather was to leave the lands for 12 years and just like that, he was gone.
My friendship with Eldalótë grew in those too-short days and she often visited me, like we were both Lords in our own rights, holding feasts on each other’s estates and going hunting in our woods. I enjoyed feeling like I was in control of my own life and so did she, though to her this dream was much further out of reach than for me. I never told her more of my closeness with Mairon, but she inferred some of it, not being a fool.
Not long after my grandfather‘s banishment, everything changed and I did not see him for thousands of years.
Notes:
i have become surprisingly attached to eldalote
Chapter 5: Intermission: The Future
Chapter Text
Pages recovered from the desk of Lord Celebrimbor after his murder at the Dark Lord‘s hands, preserved in the Archives of Imladris.
The dating of the letters is an estimation by Erestor, First Historian of Lord Elrond, based on a reconstruction of the events that conspired shortly before Eregion was attacked, using the journals of Lord Celebrimbor.
Document 1.1
S.A. 1587-88
Authored by the Abhorred
My Sweet Bird,
As you well know our manner of parting was most regretful. I spoke rashly, hurt as I was, and I am sure you did too. Most of what I meant to tell you could not pass over my lips, all that I did say you misunderstood.
I love you, that is the truth. Yet, you can not change my mind, so I must hope that you will change yours. You always were more yielding than me, you know that.
The offer still stands, and it will remain to do so.
You may send your answering letter south, I will look for it and find it.
My heart waits for you.
Yours in love,
Mairon
Document 1.2
S.A. 1588-89
Authored by the Abhorred
Beloved,
My letter may have gotten lost on the way as times are dark though it may have reached you and you simply do not feel brave enough to come to me. I understand that it is hard to leave behind what you thought was right and especially who you thought your allegiance was owed to.
But the truth is, we must not owe anything to anyone. Our task is to act according to our independent conscience, to do what we know must be done. You owe it to yourself to come to me,
I see now that I must explain in better terms to you, what will and what must happen. You know of the decay and rot spreading throughout the mortal land, as you know of the circular properties of life. This circle is interrupted, the pattern broken, and we must fix it. I have explained it to you over and over, and I thought you understood. You used to be able to see the patterns with me, and I believe you still are. You need not be scared.
Yours,
M.
Document 1.3
S.A. 1589-90
Authored by the Abhorred
You know what to do. I have told you, we have discussed it. You know there is no other way. I await you in the south.
Mairon
Document 1.4
S.A. 1589-90
Authored by the Abhorred
Note: Due to its extreme brevity, the letter is assumed to succeed Document 1.3 but it can not be taken for certain.
Telperinquar,
I require an answer from you.
Document 2.1
S.A. 1590
Authored by Lord Celebrimbor
Note: This letter appears to be a draft as many words have been scribbled out and written over. It can be assumed that a copy of this draft or one that was similarly worded was sent to the Dark Lord, see answering letter Document 1.5.
To whomever it may concern, Orc-Lord, Deceiver, Dark Scion of Morgoth,
I have little interest in treating with you any longer. I shared your vision to a point only. You will not continue to deceive me.
Cease sending letters. I will not read them.
The Lord of Eregion
Addendum: Lord Celebrimbor forged the Three around the time of writing this letter. He seemed to be aware of the Dark Lord‘s identity and part of his plans but for unclear reasons failed to inform High-King Gil-Galad of them.
Document 1.5
S.A. 1591
Authored by the Abhorred
To my dear Telperinquar,
You must know that I have never deceived you. I have always been open and honest with you, I always made myself known to you. It is you who dared not see me, it is you who tried to think me into something else.
Do not blame me for your own delusions and acknowledge that you love me as I love you.
We can make the world more beautiful, you can help me make it so.
Do not be stupid, I urge you.
Mairon
Document 2.2
S.A. 159?
Authored by Lord Celebrimbor
Note: It is unclear whether a copy of this letter was ever sent.
You pain me. I see you everywhere while you are nowhere. You have haunted me for too long now and I cannot bear it any longer. Leave me be, I beg you. I can not follow you where you plan to go, that path is impossible and closed to me. Return to this place where we may both exist or else be gone for ever.
You mean to own me, to chain me to your throne. You have never loved me and I have never loved you. You think you know me well, but I am changed. I am part of this world and I can change easily, I shift with the wind and sway with the trees and I take part of the mysteries of life with them, something that shall be denied to you forever.
Goodbye.
Document 1.6, Fragments
S.A. 1599
Authored by the Abhorred
Note: This Document seems to have been destroyed by being torn to shreds, but the shreds were carefully kept in a silver box within the desk of Lord Celebrimbor. As the box had been opened some time during or shortly after the Sack of Eregion, some pieces were lost or partially burned. The following text is a reconstruction of what fragments could be recovered and puzzled together.
I love you. I want [words lost] there is little that I would not do. But what you failed to [words lost] pains me [words lost] understand.
I have to do this and I will. I will forge another [words lost] parts of me and you [words lost]. I am sorry for how it all went, even if you do not believe me. I have always, always [words lost] and always [words lost] you.
Don‘t make me beg you for this. I do not like [words lost] would harm you. The One shall free the world of its imperfections and I [words lost]
Dare not say to me that I am removed from the [words lost] what you say.
[words lost] you.
Document 2.3
S.A. 159?-160?
Authored by Lord Celebrimbor
Note: This letter was presumably never sent. It was found in the silver box as well and seemed to have been crumpled up and smoothed out multiple times.
Mairon,
I am coming.
Addendum: The Dark Lord made his intentions known openly and revealed himself in 1600 S.A, the same year that he is believed to have forged the One Ring.
Document 1.7
S.A. 16??
Authored by the Abhorred
Telperinquar,
It is truly beginning now. I wanted you by my side for this, wanted to share in it with you. It isn’t too late for you yet. You still have a chance to reach all th glory you always dreamt of.
Come to me.
Document 1.8
S.A. 1691-96
Authored by the Abhorred
I am giving you one last chance. Join me and together we can make the world as beautiful as it was meant to be.
Addendum: Lord Celebrimbor was murdered in S.A. 1697 during the Sack of Eregion. It is said that he faced the Dark Lord on the steps to his workshop, wielding a sword forged by the Dark Lord‘s own hands; they fought but he was beaten and subsequently tortured. His body was not fully recovered for proper burial rites.
Chapter Text
The last time I met him in Valinor was only brief, cut short by the approaching doom. He came to call on me at the estates and I invited him in, feeling grand and important.
“Telperinquar,” he said, when we had sat down comfortably before the fire, and he rarely used my full, true name to address me so I immediately straightened up and listened.
“We will not see each other for a time now. I regret it but it can not be helped”
“No, I believe it can be. Anything that we can think, we may do,” I told him, unwilling to accept the inevitable. “We can be together, if we wish it.”
“Oh, sweet bird,” he said then, for this was what he called me more often instead of my given name, “it was never just going to be this.” I gave him a mean look for that, feeling that his assessment of my naïveté was presumptuous, though likely it was not. I had been caught up in the great romantic destiny of it all and thought that the world could be static around us.
“You mustn‘t go,” I said to him, like a petulant child.
“I must,” he replied simply, “as do you. Follow your grandfather to Middle-earth and we may meet again.”
So, he left me. Soon after, news of the murder of our king, my great-grandfather, by Melkor‘s hands reached me and I knew that he was truly gone then. I was mad and felt betrayed, I was hurt by it all, despite my better judgement. In my mind, I knew that my grandfather’s warnings had simply become the truth, that Mairon had sided with Melkor and betrayed all of Valinor for his desire to take control over the broader world, but in my heart I did not want this to be so, and such feelings are always difficult to push down.
He never seemed like an enemy to me and even here I never faced him in battle, though I must say that I avoided battles, and I did my best to keep away from the estates more prone to fighting. I was still searching for a place of my own.
Eldalótë had become a good and steady companion to me and when the time of the march came, we walked together towards Alqualondë, where my grandfather truly lost his mind.
The matter of the journey to the lands beyond the horizon is a difficult one to discuss – I can not bring myself to regret it, truly, though it brought much evil and pain, so thankful am I to see the beauty that this world was made for, the freedom I was granted here, where in Valinor I would have remained stifled by my family, choking on their ambitions while my own drowned.
I never killed, being much too cowardly when I was younger and developing a better idea of morality as I approached my current age. Eldalótë, I think, fought at the beginning but laid down her arms when she saw the children of Arafinwë turning against my father‘s people.
I do not know if she ever wished or intended to marry me; we never spoke of it. Eventually, she married one of my father‘s younger cousins and bore him a son, and her grandson is our current High King Gil-Galad.
I was not there when she died, which I regret, and I hope to see her again one day. I owe her a debt of gratitude for everything I achieved in the Second Age of our world, for it was her who told me to seek my own lands, to stop drifting between estates and kingdoms and build my own. In her eyes I could see the sadness of her inability to do so, an infant on her lap.
She was now bound down more than ever, while I had never been as free as I was at that moment, and so I went and left her and promised her I would write and invite her soon, but just fifty years later, she was dead.
I built my lands up in grief, as relatives and friends died and thousands of years passed. Then, I saw him again. He was standing before the gates of Ost-in-Edhil, calling my name, ignoring any guards, unaware of who he was, who attempted to speak to him, insisting that the only ear he wished to reach was mine. He still knew me well enough to know that I would give in.
I cannot say why I let him in, but I did. I had missed his voice and I can and will never disavow myself from being influenced in my work by the way we spoke to each other when I was young. He had been an influence on me all this time, present though he was absent.
He looked different by then, no longer red but blond, with sharper features and smaller in stature, but he still moved gracefully and his voice was like I remembered it. So I allowed him entry.
I greeted him carefully and said: “Do not think that you can so easily presume to have your sway of old on me again. Long years have passed since then and I have grown into my own.”
He said, lightly: “I do not mean to imply any such thing to you. I wish to collaborate with you, that is all.”
“You are an enemy,” I told him. “I shall not have you as my collaborator.”
“My, you have grown prideful,” he laughed sweetly. “I followed the wrong lord eons ago, but so did you. Fëanor and Morgoth both were fools in the end, let us be better.”
“I have always known my grandfather to be lost in his obsessive manner.”
“And yet you followed him. Can you not believe that I have seen the error of my ways? What I wish to do, with your help, is to rectify the pain I have caused and to improve the world beyond it. You are the only one who can do this with me. Please,” he said and then looked up at me, for now he was but a little smaller than I am, “Please my sweet bird.” His hand gently touched my face, and I allowed it.
I did lie with him, I dare not deny it. He had been in too many of my youthful fantasies (and not so youthful fantasies, too) for me to shun him when he came to me. He knew that I desired him, and yet he came to me asking it like a question.
“Are you terribly busy at the moment? I fear I must disturb you” he said, entering my rooms late at night. This very first question already was a complete farce: He knew that I was never too busy for him and he had already come in. But I played along and said that no, I was not indeed so very busy.
He came and sat on my bench, leaning against a pillow and letting his robes fall open. I saw then that he wore little underneath except silk shawls and his design was at once known to me, for I had known him now for a very long time.
He never changed much, only I did, I suppose. I had grown a more critical eye, a harsher judgement. But, and this he saw clearly, I was still ambitious, and still an admirer. Of him and of the world, both of which he meant to use against me.
“You think I am an easy fool,” I accused him sharply. “That I will do your bidding if you promise your body to me?”
He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “I think you have become someone who knows how to take what he wants. Why must you limit me in how I show my admiration for you?“
“Is this truly how you want to prove your changed heart to me? Would you not rather do it through kind and gracious acts, through generosity to the common folk of the land?“
“I am not proving anything,“ he said slowly. “It mustn’t be all about you, must it? Can I not do things for my enjoyment?” He had successfully twisted my words, acting as though I would ever think that he would do something that was not for his own enjoyment.
I ignored him, then, but he continued to lounge in my chambers, occasionally making conversation, and when I felt it time to retire to my bed he was already in it. His smile was daring me to send him away and of course I didn’t.
All I did that first night was to hold him in my arms, if you can believe it. I felt young and unburdened again through his presence, and he was beautiful and soft and a long time had passed since I had last held someone.
It took many years of being with him until he showed me his deepest, truest face. It only revealed itself when he was cornered and afraid of losing control, for that was his deepest desire; control. Over the world and its inhabitants in full, over me. He grew foul and vicious when he felt his control threatened, spitting acid and vitriol, throwing forge equipment. It amazes me that I could have scared him so much, in his controlled world, that he let himself be reduced to such a display.
He is gone now. I am not sure if he will remain to be gone, but we parted in anger this time, instead of silent sorrow, and as I am now I have little desire to run after him.
So yes, I was foolish to let him come back to me, yes I have aided his work, but he has also aided mine. What miraculous rings I have made, I could not have made without him, I can acknowledge that much. And they are true gifts to us. I cannot fully explain whatever drove me to him, but if not understanding, maybe my tale can invoke a level of forgiveness. May history look kindly upon me.
Notes:
thanks for reading!
Chapter Text
A later entry that was seemingly ripped out of the journal and partially recovered from the silver box in Lord Celebrimbor‘s desk can be read below.
These words must not be taken at face value and illustrate some sort of mental deterioration that Lord Celebrimbor experienced not long before his murder.
The estimated time of writing is S.A. 1684-1691
His letters will not stop. I cannot count how many I have burned, he is incessant. I feel like I must be losing my mind. I know he is wrong about all of it in a fundamental manner, I know he is. I know it!
But he won’t listen. He never wanted to listen or he never could, but he should have. I would have helped. I can help.
He has to kill me, he must want to kill me, I suppose, just to satisfy his ego. None who reject him may live, I know too much of his designs, I dared to see right through him.
I should inform them of him, but I cannot bring myself to do so. He was supposed to be in my mind alone. He doesn’t belong to them. He shouldn’t be there.
I cannot tell them, it would be my death. I will die either way I fear, but not like this. I want it not like this. It should be at his hands that I die, only his hands.
I saw my death when I saw him all those lifetimes ago I saw my end I saw doom I saw him I wanted him still
He is me, I suppose, and I am him. I was formed in his image and yet so was he, by some mysterious design that crystallized me into his mind before my existence was even known to him. And if he is me, that is how he can die. If he is me and I can die, then so can he.
He can kill me if he pleases, but it will kill him in turn. I may kill him if I manage with my luck, but in turn I will die. It has to be done
It has to be done!
If I kill him it will be good. If he kills me it will be good.
There is no other way.
I should have gone to him when
No, I should not have. He is wrong. He does wrong. There is no other way but to kill him.
It could never have gone any differently.
His letters will stop because he will stop, his my thoughts in my his mind will be gone because my his mind will be gone. The curse of my family eradicated by my his hands
It is the light I see beyond the darkness. Remember me us him when it is over. Parts fondly, parts darkly, parts intertwined into the dimming twilight of the world. He must fade with me. The glory is over and nothing may bring it back.
Mairon thinks himself able to stop the sun from sinking but Arien will always outrun him. He and I, We must be going now.
Notes:
thank you for reading! i had lots of fun exploring a different narrative style and a different type of silvergifting too :) <3
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