Ost-in-Edhil, SA 1259

Celebrimbor sat in a tower in Ost-in-Edhil, staring morosely at scrolls and parchments covering the table before him. From the window to his left, he could see the House of the Mírdain, wherein the smithies glowed and hammers rang out. That was where he desired to be, amongst the fire and metal, in his leathers with arms bared – not sat in a chamber in restricting, wholly impractical dress robes. This was not what he'd bargained for when he acquiesced to the brotherhood's growing calls to make Eregion their own land, free from the rule of the White Lady and her Sindar lord.

"My lord?"

Celebrimbor shook himself and turned to the Elf at the doorway. "Master Erestor, please come in. Forgive me, I'm afraid you caught me day-dreaming."

Erestor gave the merest hint of a wry grin before stepping into Celebrimbor's chamber. "And I'm afraid I've come to add to your burden," he said, looking rather pointedly at the table between them. There was no place to set the papers he'd brought, so instead he handed them directly to the Lord. "The translations of the trade agreements with Moria."

"Ah, yes, thank you," Celebrimbor said, looking around for a place to set the papers where they wouldn't get confused with some other articles. He sighed deeply. "Well, I suppose I might handle this now, as there's nowhere to which I may consign it till later."

Erestor smiled sympathetically. "If that will be all…," he said, by way of asking if there was anything else he could do.

"Yes," Celebrimbor said resignedly. "At least until I've drafted…." Then he stopped and looked up at Erestor for a long moment. "But mayhap you can help me. I would not be detaining you from some other task, would I?" Celebrimbor rose and came to usher Erestor over to some comfortable chairs arranged across the room.

"No, my Lord, of course not. My only tasks are at your command," Erestor said, somewhat bemused.

"Now, none of that! I'm not a king. I ask for your assistance, I would never require it. But, come, if you can help me, let us sit and discuss these proposals in plain terms, that I might be able to speak to our Dwarven allies as though I actually understood these documents. Not that I will sound very knowledgeable in their own tongue as it is, but let's fight one front at a time, shall we?"

Suddenly, Celebrimbor felt a whole new enthusiasm for this chamber-work and hurried to fetch a bottle of wine and a pair of goblets. Maybe this task could be accomplished with something approaching camaraderie and comfort instead of forced from him like secrets at the hands of a tormentor.

Together, he and Erestor read through the agreements bit by bit. Wherever Celebrimbor came across some phrase that seemed designed to obscure its true meaning, he would ask Erestor to 'melt down the words and pour off the dross' for him. He also asked Erestor's opinion of the terms and whether they were as beneficial as they might be for the Mírdain without slighting their friends in the mines. Erestor pointed out a few sections that could be improved with some alteration and found himself running over to fetch various other pieces from Celebrimbor's table to reference and support his claims, making connections between other agreements that Celebrimbor was sure he'd have only found years later in hindsight.

Finally, Celebrimbor asked Erestor to take supper with him to celebrate what he thought would prove an extraordinarily just trade system with the Dwarves, including the construction of a dedicated road between their two lands, symbolizing their cooperation and allegiance.

"Your skill is that of more than a scribe, Master Erestor," Celebrimbor said as they shared a roasted pheasant. "Would you consider accompanying me to Moria as my Chief Councillor to present this agreement? You have much greater skill than I in the Dwarvish tongue, for one, and you are clearly a shrewd and fair-minded negotiator."

"You accord me quite an honour, my Lord," Erestor said, looking as though he was doubtful he was equal to the task.

Celebrimbor reached across the table to take Erestor's hand in his. "Celebrimbor is my name."

Erestor smiled slowly. There was more than the mining of mithril evident in the glitter of Celebrimbor's sky-blue eyes. "Aye. But it is a long name."

Celebrimbor's brows knit in momentarily uncertainty until he realized the tease in the sharp grey eyes of the Elf before him. Then Celebrimbor laughed deeply. "I see I shall have to be of very quick wit with you about."

Erestor just tilted his chin in agreement.

"Very well," he said, reaching for Erestor's other hand in a way that made plain they were no longer talking in official capacities. "I don't mind if you call me Celeb, perhaps. But may I, then, call you Eres? Only seems fair…."

Erestor laughed. "Yes, you may. Though I daresay you will be the first to do so."

"Good. I like it. It sounds like ereg. And, perhaps, I shall also be the last…." Celebrimbor leaned in, squeezing Erestor's hands gently as he pressed a chaste kiss those pink bow-shaped lips.

When Celebrimbor and Erestor returned from their negotiations in Moria, there were a great many plans to set in place: the building of a trade road, a cooperative project to construct special doors at the gate of Moria, and the selection of two of their land's finest holly trees to be sent and planted where the doors were to be constructed.

Celebrimbor threw himself into the planning keenly, finally feeling as if he was qualified to be called leader of this new venture of the Noldor. But, for all that, he now spent not even half his time in his working chamber. That place was now the province of Eregion's Chief Councillor, while Celebrimbor eagerly turned back to the work he truly loved. He found he had some catching up to do, as his fellow smiths had been hard at work in practicing their skills while their leader had been playing servant to ink-stains and papercuts. Fortunately, through spending a great deal of time working with the fair newcomer whose skill in smithcraft Celebrimbor had never known the like, the leader of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain swiftly attained his status as their most highly accomplished member once again.

Best of all, in Celebrimbor's estimation, was that each evening when he set down his hammer and tongs for the day and had enjoyed a refreshing bath in the Sirannon, he had supper with his Councillor awaiting him. While they ate, Erestor would fill him in on the work of the day and they would set down any decisions that Celebrimbor wished to bring before the brotherhood of smiths for their input. Then they would invariably repair to more private quarters to engage in negotiations of a much more intimate nature.

One evening, Celebrimbor came in to supper rather later than usual. He apologized for losing track of time as the season was waning into autumn and the days coming up shorter. He had been so accustomed to spending the long days of summer at his forge. Erestor only nodded and turned to the matter of progress on the road and the rows of holly being planted along it on either side. He was unusually quiet on other matters, but Celebrimbor took little notice, impatient only to get his beloved alone again after a long day's work.

Once in his personal chambers, Celebrimbor went to pour them glasses of cordial to enjoy as they held one another by the fireside as was their usual way.

Erestor, however, had not yet moved to sit. "Celeb, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, mela-nin, anything."

Erestor took a breath and cleared his throat, and Celebrimbor grew uneasy of just what had his lover looking so… unhappy.

"Some while ago you confided in me your reservations regarding Annatar."

"Yes?" Celebrimbor prompted, now doubly concerned.

"But you have been spending so much time with him of late. Perhaps your opinion has changed," Erestor said dejectedly.

Celebrimbor watched Erestor closely for a moment before setting aside the drinks in his hands and walking over to Erestor. "Eres," he said, reaching to hold Erestor's hand between his, "no, my opinion has not changed. I have been in his company for no reason other than improving my craft and, honestly, because I prefer to keep my eye on him. I do not wish to contravene the Brotherhood's decision, but I would still harken to Ereinion's counsel. So far he's given me no reason to speak against him, but I shall not lower my guard.

"Now, in case your misgivings should be of a less political nature, let me tell you that in my sight there is no fairer creature upon Arda than he who stands before me now." Celebrimbor's other hand came up to lovingly stroke Erestor's cheek. "This Elf, in wonder of whom I stand transfixed… with slender fingers, fairer than mithril; glossy hair as dark as finest lebethron; eyes grey that mirror the clouds of a winter's day; and those lips that intoxicate me as sure as any wine. This Elf, who's wit is piercing and swift as an arrow, but who's tongue is silver and honourable as a royal diadem…. This Elf alone do I love." Celebrimbor tugged Erestor close and kissed him deeply as his fingertips ghosted over Erestor's ear-points. "And if this Elf, the fairness of whom no creation of mine shall ever rival, can love a rough-handed, simple-minded, Dispossessed smith like me… then I know that, truly, the Valar must look favourably upon me in such ways as I was once sure were impossible."

"Forgive me, Celeb," Erestor said softly, wrapped his arms around Celebrimbor and resting his forehead upon his lover's broad shoulder. "I do love you, rough of hand but strong of arm. I know I need fear no rival for your affections, for I have never known a truer heart than yours."

"No forgiveness needed for no offense given," Celebrimbor said, pressing a kiss to Erestor's hair. "Come, sit and let me prove my love to you so that you may forsake all jealousy."

Erestor lifted his head then and smiled. "If that is to be my reward, I may find myself growing jealous every season."

"Peace! Or shall I stop your mouth myself?" Celebrimbor grinned, once again kissing Erestor deeply.