Celeborn grew still on his side of the table as Thranduils tale came to an unexpected turn; and in the long silence that hung between them hovered many questions yet unanswered. For Celeborn was of the old world and had survived many ages; indeed he was older than the king before him. And so he had lived through those same turbulent days leading to the war of the Elves and Sauron, the war over the rings of power which were forged in deception and stolen from the enemy, only to be lost to terrible cost. Yet, in the last and darkest of those days a mystery had surfaced; for what had become of the prince of Eryn Galen before the battle at Dagorlad?
And though Celeborn trembled at the thought of what may yet be revealed, he could not implore his friend to halt now - not after having convinced him to speak so candidly about the past he did not wish to remember. Thranduil sat with his forehead on folded hands, propping himself up with his elbows on the solid beech table. For a long while neither elf spoke and it was only when the Lord of Lothlorien had regained his courage that the silence was broken again.
"So. Then you did meet him then?" He spoke in a soft whisper, one filled with both awe and dread.
And without moving so much as an inch Thranduil nodded. "Yes. I grew to know Annatar - who we now know was Sauron; that abominable Maia of Bauglir - more personally than I would have imagined."
With a heavy sigh Celeborn poured out the remaining drops lingering at the bottom of the bottle. Now at last Thranduil moved. After leaning back and scanning the racks the king picked a bottle from a low rack and handed it proudly over to his guest who after an approving nod opened it.
"You said, 'personally'. Now this makes me admittedly curious - and I must admit - quite concerned." Celeborn spoke into the echoing cellar. "What does this entail? Or...if it can be said another way - how entangled in this web did you become?" He asked, setting the bottle gently between them even as he held Thranduils silvery eyes in an steady, almost demanding gaze. Thranduil then looked away, absently twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. For he was loathe to admit just how caught up he had become in that spiders game, and the insult and betrayal he had suffered were wounds still unhealed upon his weary spirit. So for a time he distracted himself by watching with slight fascination the shimmering of red light cast from the faceted crystal glass.
"Thranduil." Celeborn pressed as his own inquisitive nature asserted itself. On the third such inquiry his host finally took a long drink, set his glass on the table and gave a graceful tilt of his head towards the bottle of the newly plucked vintage. As Celeborns hand moved to pour the next round Thranduil spoke.
"That day was fateful for me in every way. It changed all that I knew, all that I could be and all that I was. It set into motion so many terrible things; and I must take responsibility for what I have helped wrought - whether I intended it or not. So little good, yet so much evil was sprang forth from those few introductions. Now I find it sad. That the future of Arda itself hinged so heavily upon the tangled intrigues woven amongst us three...that the choices of we few should decide the fate of so many."
"So it has ever been." Celeborn noted, gray eyes lowering to the table. "Yes. Until the breaking of the world."
In the hush of the upper hall there descended such silence that for a moment it seemed that all Arda held it's breath. Thranduil stared in shock at the rapidly disappearing silhouette of Celebrimbor, wondering how the leader of all Eregion could be so blind. Could he not see Thranduils apprehension? And what was more; was he truly so oblivious to the deep wellspring of carefully suppressed power that this Maia in his halls possessed that he had no inklings of how far beyond the reach of elves he was? For if this lone, strange power was allied to dark forces Thranduil shuddered to think of what might happen. Then the prince sought to calm himself, for he knew Celebrimbor to be an elf far older than he - one who had crossed the Helcaraxë, who had seen the two trees of Valinor in bloom and been born before both the sun and moon had first risen. Surely he - who had lived once in the blessed realm - knew more of the Ainur than Thranduil could ever hope to learn.
'Celebrimbor must know what he is doing. Surely he would not simply entrust me to some evil thing. I should trust his judgement.' Such were Thranduils thoughts.
A soft, gently soothing voice broke the hush of the high room and the sound of a strong but even tread roused him from his internal debate.
"So. Are you ready to return to the forge? Lord Celebrimbor appeared rather animated about this project you bring."
Resignation worming its way deep into his heart, Thranduil turned halfway towards this new stranger. He held his head high and aloof, surveying this 'maia' with cautious silvery topaz eyes. For his part Annatar smiled warmly at the proud prince, seeming to be indifferent to the elf's obvious scornful glances.
Annatar presented himself as little more than a dedicated and curious artisan who had learned there was an aspect to his craft yet undiscovered. His movements at first appeared humble; yet Thranduil detected a subtle and powerful energy behind them that spoke of unbridled pride - arrogance even. It was this clash that made Thranduils senses reel in contempt. He could sense the hypocrisy within this fellow guest in Celebrimbors presence.
Yet, a guest he was and to unnecessarily insult one held in such high esteem by his host would not only be a diplomatic disaster, but could have very real consequences for Thranduil personally. So while the Prince of Eryn Galen's glances might be sharp as daggers he swore to allow no malicious word to pass his lips. Civility until the task he had come for was finished.
Celebrimbor knows what he is doing. The mantra echoed in his mind, but the thoughts seemed to rattle clumsily like little stones in a jar of glass - useless noise.
Raising himself to his full and imposing height Thranduil took refuge in the gracefully aloof persona of royalty he had carefully built around him since his fathers coronation. He spoke with a voice that sounded on the edge of boredom.
"Yes. Lord Celebrimbor has already done a thorough examination of the armour and found it unusual. He wished for a second opinion on the matter."
Annatar gave a wry quirk of his lips. "So it was his idea to seek me out then?" He spoke with just a touch of disbelief, as if somehow sensing what Thranduil wished to hide. "It is not surprising. He seems to demand ever more of my time lately."
And for just a passing flicker of annoyance marred his beautiful features; yet it was followed by a tight lipped smile that seemed forced.
"Not that it is a problem. I am in truth indebted to him for providing for all of my requirements here while I complete my task. it is only that - and please do not misunderstand me for I mean no disrespect - but he can tend to...ramble. Quite a bit in fact."
At this Thranduil cracked a reluctant but honest smile. "I have known him but a day, yet that already has become apparent. So it is not only myself then?"
"Oh no." Annatar responded with a hearty laugh, tossing his red-gold hair back with a flick of his hand, rings flashing in the light.
"He'll talk the ears off an Oliphant if you let him!"
The young prince chuckled at the observation. Annatar had moved so that they were nearly side by side and Thranduil noted ( with no small irritation ) that the Maia was taller than even his imposing height. Returning to conversation, Thranduil spoke: "He is fond of conversation. That much is true."
"And you not so much, if I had to guess." Annatar spoke softly, then after a moment pointed to the door. "Then let us walk. Do you happen to remember the way to the forges?"
And Thranduil felt a moment of exasperation, for the twists and turns of their search had completely disoriented him.
"No. We took quiet a long way to find you."
And the Maia smiled, stepping forward. "No matter. Then I will lead." He declared, voice humming in a way that made the spacious room seem all to closed in to the young prince. So it was that Annatar led his unwilling companion on their errand, from the uppermost halls and into a wide corridor of marble walls and silver chandeliers and then down spiralling stairs of vining wrought iron and polished rose hued granite.
For much of the time they made great speed, yet as they continued downward the halls became increasingly crowded and their pace slowed dramatically. Annatar seemed frustrated by the turn of events while Thranduil couldn't be happier for the delay. Yet just as they reached a wide and bustling hall Annatar turned to him with grin so mischievous that the prince nearly took a hasty step back in retreat. The Maia's eyes were nearly luminescent with mirth.
"I know a shortcut! Here-" He spoke, moving through the crowded hall to the opposing wall where a door of heavy iron was set in. Opening it the two looked down the long spiralling stair into blackness darker than a starless night.
"This leads directly to the deep forges. We can take this stairwell to Lord Celebrimbors personal shop."
And here Thranduils courage began to fail, for handling the Maia's overwhelming personality was taxing him almost to his limit. Yet to be confined with him in such a dark and isolated place - the mere thought was enough to drive the elf to panic.
"Could we not just as well remain on the main path?" Thranduil suggested, hiding his fear behind a veneer of reason and regal disinterest. "For I have yet to see much of the estate and would find the tour enjoyable."
Now there was truth in his earnest plea, yet it seemed Annatar latched on immediately to the truth of the matter and found it not to his will, for Thranduils subtle attempt at deception was noted and ruthlessly cast aside.
With a smile Annatar replied; "Of course I would be willing to indulge you, Thranduil. Yet; I have other obligations as well you know and time constrains me. Many would seek to claim what hours with me they may and the long way - though leisurely - deprives them of my attention quite unfairly."
Pushing the door further open Annatar stood on the steps, his dark clothing rustling in the faint breeze rising from the blackness. "And you seem anxious, young lord, to be finished with this errand. So quicker is best for both of us."
And for a long moment, even as the crowd swirled around them Thranduil lingered in the bright light of the sunlit hall, with it's stained glass reflecting shimmering rainbows of color through the wide space. The windows were open and the air was crisp and clean and it was far more inviting than the dark dampness of a hidden stair. His eyes toured the polished alabaster sanctuary, pearlescent stone glittering like freshly fallen snow.
But then Thranduil once again turned his attention to the fiery Maia who stood waiting, a smile curled across his lips and his eyes glimmering with the unspoken challenge - for he knew Thranduil to be afraid and was curious as to why. And Thranduil trembled at the dark light in those bright eyes.
However; Thranduil also was for better or worse a stubborn soul and possessed of an indomitable will - the same as his father Oropher before him. So with head held high and haughty he stepped from the light of the hall and into the dark embrace of the downward stair.
The door shut; and against the polished black stone the clang receded as a mocking echo, harsh and brittle yet as sharp as a portent from Mandos. Ink-dark blackness enveloped them for a few eternally long moments before with a sputter and crackle of heat light surged once more. Yet it only succeeded in driving back the shadows a few dozen steps before faltering in the gloom. Holding his torch aloft, Annatar allowed himself a broad grin; for he was well pleased. And Thranduil felt ever more keenly the depth of his ill ease - for it seemed that under the withering torchlight the glinting malice that before he could have claimed was imagined seemed all too real. In that stuffy, closed in stone stair that descended only into darkness the elven-prince felt his will flicker like a candle lost in a hurricane and his heart strove in his chest with the frantic pulse of a moths wings.
"Come now." Annatar purred and his golden eyes reflecting firelight. "Surely the elves of Middle-Earth have not come to fear the darkness that they once loved so dearly. Why do you linger on the first step? Come down."
It was with great effort that Thranduil spurred himself into motion, embroidered silks rustling gently as soft leather boots found each step in turn. When he reached Annatar the Maia smiled warmly at him, though his eyes were veiled now by a curtain of red-gold hair, glinting like metal aflame in the sparse light as he peered downward.
"Was that so hard? But enough play my young lord, we have far to go down this stair yet and as I said before time is precious to me."
Thus they began their descent.
Thranduil disguised his discomfort as best he could. But every slightest glance, every faintest brush of a swinging arm began to wear on his nerves and before they had travelled long he grew weary and restless. So at last he spoke, for any conversation must be preferable to the thin, strained silence; or so he reasoned with himself.
"How did you light the torch?" He questioned, genuinely curious. Annatar paused to eye him strangely; yet, Thranduil did not acknowledge his gaze but instead kept his eyes focused intently upon the steps before them and continued his descent as the path spiralled away into nothingness.
"I was...curious. I did not see flint or match - I heard no strike with which a light might have been made. There was no moment of flickering as the kindling caught, but immediate flame."
"Oh, is that all?" At this Annatar handed to Thranduil the flaming brand and the elf fought with the unwieldy weight while doing his best to keep his fine robes free of the sparks and ash. And then Annatar held his hands near one another with the palms facing and his face became stern with thought. And between his hands there appeared a swirling of energy. The power of such natural force tingled across Thranduils skin as the fire took the shape of an orb of light and heat. It had taken the Maia only a moment to craft from the air a perfect sphere of flame, and it glowed in the dark with the radiance of Anar. And Annatar smiled at what he had made.
"I am a Maiar, ancient in Arda. I have seen the world beyond the Doors of Night. And my nature is as flame and to me it hearkens willingly, for it is part of my own being placed into this Middle Earth. And in all flame there is the faintest echo of my voice, and the voice of my kindred."
And now it was that Thranduil could hear the faintest strains of that ancient hymn and the fire that was within Annatars voice and he stood for a moment in silent awe, for by the radiance of that sphere of light he could perceive the glow of the pure light of Aman that emanated from Annatar himself. In the reaches of his memory he recalled the glory of the great host that had come from the distant Western shore in their hour of need and the splendour of the light they bore within. He knew then what the measure of Annatars spirit was; as one who had long ago come from beyond the sundering seas, who had seen Arda in the beauty of it's spring, one who's voice was in the fabric of Arda itself, one who had sat at the knees even of Iluvater Eru and knew His voice.
And Thranduil knew himself then to be little more than a child adrift who knew nothing of the world.
Noticing this thoughtfulness Annatar dismissed the brilliant flame with a flick of his hands.
"It can be tiring however; I can hold the torch again if you would like?"
With a slight startle, Thranduil relinquished the torch. But as Annatar received the brand his fingers ever so lightly ghosted over the back of the elfs hand and the remaining power in that briefest of touches left a trail of warmth in it's wake that tingled through Thranduils skin and seeped deep even to the bone.
His hand Thranduil slowly retracted and held close to his chest for a moment even after Annatar lifted the torch high once more and forged ahead on the spiral stairs.
"It is really not too difficult." The Maia spoke lightly. "With the right incentive I believe even elves could manage it - for the Firstborn have not the weak Fëar of men."
At this thought Annatar turned slightly toward the following prince, eyes holding a deep curiosity - for the thought had piqued his interest.
"You know, I could try to teach you - if you wish. For I would very much like to know how much of the skill if the Ainur can be passed on to the Children of Iluvater."
And Annatar worked to keep his intent hidden from the perceptive eyes of the elven-prince, though Thranduil felt hesitation in his heart - for though he was now in awe of this power he trusted it all the less. And so Thranduil merely nodded. "It is a generous offer." he spoke cordially.
"The offer stands if you wish to accept it. Perhaps when we have come to know one another more closely."
Thranduil bristled in silence and his animosity was not lessened. Even still and in spite of his reservations the pleasant residual warmth of the flames aura rippled through his arm like a tempting whisper of power, and from the core of his being Thranduil strove with all his will to not listen.
