Chapter 1 - The Workshop of the Jewel Smiths
Ost-in-Edhil, SA 1500
The forge was nearly empty, which was unusual for mid-afternoon. Celebrimbor, the head of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, was absent, and so were several of his Master Craftsmen.
He and Celebrimbor were working together to make the Great Rings. They had already finished a series of nine, and were close to completing the seventh ring in the next series.
The Great Rings, which represented the highest level of craftsmanship seen in Arda since the days of Fëanor, were made to be given away. What if they were misused, what if they were lost? He would let them go, but he still wanted to keep an eye on them.
Before the first of the Great Rings was forged, he added a binding mechanism, something barely noticeable, to a utilitarian part of the design. That way, he could maintain control if any of the rings were used irresponsibly, or if they fell into the wrong hands.
Of course, a binding mechanism only worked if there was something to bind it to. He knew how to make a Binding Ring, but wasn't able to. He needed extreme temperatures like those found in dragon's fire, which he didn't have.
Annatar put the tongs in the fire. He pulled out a piece of metal glowing orange, and struck it repeatedly with a hammer. One of his apprentices filled a bucket of water to quench the finished piece.
"Where has everyone gone? Even one of my apprentices is missing." Annatar wondered aloud.
"Celebrimbor has some new project. He's asked the most gifted craftsmen in the guild to assist him. They don't know if it will work, so they're keeping it quiet for the moment." a journeyman told him.
That's odd. He hasn't mentioned the project to me, thought Annatar.
Celebrimbor had begun to urge his master craftsman to work on separate tasks. He said they should each pick a specialty and focus on it, as the Gwaith-i-Mírdain moved into more difficult, more highly skilled work.
But at some point, Annatar noticed that the best of the apprentices and journeymen in the workshop were working for Celebrimbor. Annatar was annoyed, and spoke to him about it in private.
"I get the impression that you've claimed the best talent for yourself. How about we divide them up a little more evenly?"
"Most of them were already working for me. I only took one or two of yours. Anyway, I need them for the work I'm doing."
"And I don't?"
"Not to the same extent. We're doing something that's never been done before. I need the visionaries, the ones who are the most creative, the most inventive. On the other hand, your work normally involves taking something that already exists, changing it a little, and using it for something new. Any of the apprentices and journeymen in the workshop can support you for that."
Annatar let the matter drop, but he wasn't pleased. But ultimately, Celebrimbor was head of the workshop, and the decision was his to make.
The door of Celebrimbor's private office opened. Celebrimbor and two of his master craftsmen came out together, followed by some of the most gifted apprentices and journeymen in the guild. Annatar looked up and greeted Celebrimbor.
"What's the new project?"
"I'm working on an idea, but I'm not ready to go public with it. I'm just making a few sketches to see where it goes." said Celebrimbor.
"I'd be happy to sit in and give you advice."
"I don't think it would interest you. We're using techniques other than the ones you taught us. They're not fully developed yet. In fact, we're inventing them as we go.
"Even so, I'd like to be included."
Celebrimbor looked embarrassed.
"I really don't think it would suit you. Your skills are very great, but they don't quite put you in the upper tier. That's not a bad reflection on you, it's just that the bar is always being raised, and right how, it's set very, very high."
Annatar started to get angry. He was the greatest craftsman here, yet people junior to him were being chosen before him.
"So you're saying I'm not good enough. You're wrong if you think my skill is less than your own; I studied under Aulë himself."
"Or under one of his students." Celebrimbor said mildly.
"Excuse me?" Annatar stiffened.
"I wasn't going to say anything, but when you first came here, Gil-galad made a few inquiries. Mahtan told him that neither he nor the other Aulëndil[1] had ever heard of you. But I let it go, because you brought so much knowledge and skill, I didn't mind if you'd improved your credentials a bit, or even if you'd never actually met Aulë.
"You underestimate me. I am Mairon Artano, the High Smith, the first and greatest of Aulë's Maiar." Annatar said.
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized he said too much, but it didn't matter. Celebrimbor didn't believe him anyway.
"Uh … Mahtan said Curumo is Aulë's greatest Maiar. He didn't mention anyone called Mairon." said Celebrimbor.
Annatar was taken aback. He'd assumed he was notorious back home. Why did he do it? Will he repent? Will he be brought to justice? But he never expected to fade out of sight as though he'd never existed. It shook him badly.
"And just so you know, I don't like being lied to." Celebrimbor said. He left the room before Annatar had a chance to reply.
Celebrimbor, his closest friend, had just called him a liar!
Annatar lied easily and often, but on this occasion, he happened to be telling the truth. He wanted to throw the hammer against the wall.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The apprentices left at the end of the day, but Annatar was too unsettled to finish up and go home. He'd always found peace in hard physical labor. He needed that peace very badly just now.
He pulled an orange-hot piece of iron from the coals and struck it over and over with the hammer. The repetitive motion calmed him, and the music of the hammer against the anvil drowned out all other sounds in the forge.
The metal cooled to grey. He quenched it in the water barrel next to the anvil, then set the hammer aside and looked up. Celebrimbor was standing in the doorway. He face was unreadable. Annatar hadn't heard him come in.
Annatar spoke first.
"Forget what I said earlier. I lost my temper and shot off my mouth. But you were right. I'm not an Aulëndil myself, I just studied under one."
"Let's go for a walk." Celebrimbor said.
They went for several blocks through the narrow streets of Ost-in-Edhil without saying anything. Lamps were lit as the twilight deepened. Finally Celebrimbor broke the silence.
"When I started this new project, I picked the best and the most gifted to assist me. But by the best, I meant the most like Fëanor. Daring, creative, entirely original.
"Fëanor was the greatest craftsman who ever lived, greater than Aulë himself. He made the Palantiri and the Silmarils. Aulë was not able to duplicate them. Fëanor invented and made things that had never been done before or since. That's my ambition for the workshop, to bring it up to Fëanor's standard."
"And you were right. I didn't think you made the cut, even though you have great knowledge of existing techniques, and great skill. But you're not like Fëanor.
"But after I left you this afternoon, I realized something. I was holding you to the wrong standard. You're not like Fëanor, but you don't have to be, because you're like Aulë."
Annatar didn't have anything to say.
"The Ainur walk among us, mostly unnoticed. Is there a rule that you're not supposed to reveal yourselves?"
Annatar looked straight ahead.
"What's Valinor like?" asked Celebrimbor.
"The same as here. Mountain ranges, forests, cultivated fields."
"There's no difference?"
"Smaller pond. Bigger frogs."
"Do you ever see other Ainur in Ost-in-Edhil?"
"Sometimes. They're around." He didn't add that, on the rare occasion he saw someone he knew, he dove into an alley to avoid being seen.
They passed a popular tavern.
"Do you want dinner?" Celebrimbor asked him.
The common room was noisy with conversation, and there was live music that evening. They pushed through the crowd and found a small booth in the back, where they could talk without being overhead.
"My new project will do something that hasn't been done before. It will slow the decay of beautiful things."
Annatar accepted that change was part of the natural order. He saw birth, growth, death, and decay as aspects of the same thing, the cycle of life. He didn't want to preserve things, to freeze them in time the way Celebrimbor did, he only cared about keeping things well ordered.
"Look, if you still want to, why don't you sit in on our discussions and act as an advisor?"
Annatar did sit in on a few meetings, but he wasn't able to contribute anything. He didn't understand the methods they were trying to develop. The discussions were abstract, and he preferred things he could see and touch. His mind wandered.
He was never sure whether they were discussing a new Rings project, or some other magical object, or something intangible like a spell.
Over the next few weeks, Annatar began to confide in Celebrimbor. He told him about his life in Valinor, his apprenticeship with Aulë, and his tense relationship with Curumo, his obnoxious younger brother.
Finally, he spoke of his belief in Aulë's deep affection for his Maiar, in spite of the fact that Aulë was distant and undemonstrative. The discipline he meted out was often the only way they knew he cared about them, or for that matter, was paying attention to them at all. Annatar admitted that, even though he was said to be the favorite, he ached for Aulë's attention and approval.
It was a relief to let down his defenses. He didn't have to watch everything he said as closely. He could be himself with Celebrimbor.
Celebrimbor, in turn, began talking about how had it had been for him, growing up in the shadow of Fëanor. Everyone expected him to be like his famous grandfather, but he was afraid he'd never be as good. He didn't want to be entirely like Fëanor, of course. Celebrimbor was a gentle person, and the violence in his family that had claimed so many lives caused him great sadness.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Annatar was working in the forge when Celebrimbor approached him, a letter in his hand. His face was grim.
"May I speak with you in private?" he said.
It was noon, and the forge was deserted. Everyone else had left for the midday break.
"When you first said you were Mairon Artano, I didn't know whether to believe you, so I wrote to Gil-galad in Lindon. This is his reply, dated ten days ago." He handed the letter to Annatar.
'Mairon Artano was one of the Maiar of Aulë. He was, in fact, the greatest of Aulë's Maiar. But you may know him by his Sindarin name, Sauron Gorthaur.
'You didn't say why you were asking, but I assume it's in reference to someone we both know.'
When he finished reading, Annatar looked up.
"I can explain."
"I doubt it." said Celebrimbor.
"I've repented. I'm doing anonymous good works here as an act of atonement.
"So it won't bother you to learn that, when Gil-galad received my letter, Círdan sailed for Valinor that same day to let them know you were here." said Celebrimbor.
The room began to spin. Annatar gripped the workbench to steady himself.
"Unless, of course, you'd rather be gone by the time they get here." With that, Celebrimbor turned on his heel and left the workshop, slamming the door behind him.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Annatar stood looking at the door. His ears were still ringing; his heart was pounding, too. In his mind's eye, he saw the Host of the Valar bearing down on Angband, overwhelming, unstoppable. He saw Eönwë, achingly disappointed in him.
"I gave you every chance. All you had to do was find Manwë and tell him you were sorry. You best chance for pardon was handed to you on a silver platter, and you didn't take it."
The chance wouldn't be offered again, he knew. He had to leave town, and quickly.
He would leave the workshop now, in the middle of the day. He walked to the forge this morning, so his horse was back at the livery stables near his house. He'd have to walk home as quickly as possible. He would pack, and then retrieve his horse. In an hour, he could be out of Ost-in-Edhil, riding toward Tharbad.
But was it safe to go back to his house? That was the first place they'd look for him, if they didn't find him here. He had to leave from here, and quickly.
All he really needed was a horse and money. Everything else could be abandoned. He would look in the stables and take a horse belonging to one of the other jewel smiths. As for money, there was always a quantity of silver and a little bit of gold in the workshop, the raw materials of their craft.
It was noon, and no one else was around. He went to the safe and opened it. He put all of the gold and as much silver as would fit into his pouch. He left the jewels, because he couldn't use them for money.
It occurred to him, much later, that none of the sixteen Great Rings had been in the safe. Their early essays in the craft weren't there, either. Celebrimbor usually took custody of their finished work, but Sauron didn't know what he did with them.
He wasn't looking for the rings, anyway. He and Celebrimbor never planned to keep their finished work. As a craftsman, it was normal to make things to give away. After all, you could always make another one for yourself later, if you wanted.
They made Great Rings one after another, with no end in sight. But after he and Celebrimbor quarreled and split up, he realized, it was the end. There would be no more.
He slammed the safe shut, but realized later the door didn't latch. He was already halfway across the room and in too much of a hurry to go back and fix it.
A few of the apprentices started coming back from the midday break. One looked at him curiously. He wondered if he'd been observed emptying the safe. He resisted the temptation to look and see if the door was standing open.
He gathered up as many tools as he could carry. He took them into his office and closed the door behind him. The door didn't lock, but he found a small nail and jammed it into the latching mechanism.
He had the sense that he was running out of time. Leave everything. Just go. But in the end, he couldn't bear to leave his notebooks or his tools behind.
He gathered up the notebooks and dumped them in a satchel. There was a piece of paper somewhere on his desk with an outline of a plan he didn't want anyone here to find. He had no time to look for it, so he swept everything on his desktop into the satchel alongside the notebooks to sort through later.
Then he tried to fit in as many tools as he could. He had to leave behind a small hammer he liked because he couldn't make room for it.
He slung the satchel over his shoulder. It was heavier than he expected. He swung a leg over the windowsill and dropped five or six feet to the ground into the alley behind the workshop. Directly across the alley, there was the small stable where the Mírdain kept their horses. He ducked inside. He took the first mount he saw, a large chestnut stallion belonging to one of the other masters.
He saw a woolen cloak hanging on a peg. It probably belonged to one of the grooms. He draped it over his shoulders and pulled the hood low over his face.
Wrapped in a strange cloak and riding a horse that belonged to someone else, he was almost unrecognizable. He took the back streets through the city and left by the North Gate.
As soon as he was clear of the city walls, he rode hard to put as much distance between himself and Ost-in-Edhil as possible. When he was sure he wasn't being followed, he left the road and traveled across country. He rejoined the main road south of the city, and headed in the direction of Tharbad.
When he reached Tharbad, he found a jeweler there who was willing to buy his silver. The jeweler offered a bad exchange rate, but he asked no questions.
Now that Annatar had money, he could buy a meal in a tavern, oats for his horse, and provisions for the road. Home was a long way away, but he was grateful he had a home to go to.
[1] The Aulëndil, the 'Friends of Aulë', are Noldor Elves who come to Valinor to study under Aulë.
