Nineteen: When the Night Is Over

Talion, now the Last of the Nine and officially Lord of Mordor, spirited Celebrimbor away the moment everything settled after the threat of the other Ringwraiths was finally ended. Ioreth could still dimly feel the Elf lord's fëa connected to her own, linked to the Ring of Power still on her finger, giving him presence in the world but stretched thin by distance. From the top of the Moonshadow tower, she saw flashes of light, of magic, out in Gorgoroth - poison green and silver blue, with the former far more prevalent than the latter.

But whether they were fighting the scattered survivors of the attack or each other, she couldn't say. Not until they came back, at least.

Fëanor sprawled morosely next to her on the stones. Talion had taken her to fly out into the wasteland but then sent her back to Moonshadow, much to the drake's disappointment. But her egg needed to be incubated by its actual mother now and then, to ensure that the drakeling developed properly and knew her when it emerged from the shell, so she was half-curled around the bundle of blankets the egg was nested in.

Ioreth bent over to pat her side. "I know," she said in understanding, "I want to be out there with him too - I don't want him to leave my sight ever again - but this is something he has to do on his own."

The drake matriarch huffed indignantly and rumbled low in her throat, and the Ring translated. Why though? He is no longer Only-Himself, and hasn't been for many Season-Turns. Four of my foremothers have been Two-as-One with him, and they flew together as one against the Follow-Fighters of Great-Eye until he passed to me. Then he became one of the Holes-In-The-World, and I Waited-For-Sunrise-To-Drive-Away-The-Dark, and someday my daughters will take my place, and their daughters after them. He makes us Fly-For-Days strong and Understand-Working-Together-Trapping-Prey-Easy-Meal-For-All smart, and we give him Taste-The-Sky wings; we are the Wind-Rider Two-as-One, not Only-Ourselves. Why must he do whatever this is without me?

"This is the closing of a circle from before your earliest foremother's time at his side," Ioreth answered, sitting down next to her, "He did it alone then, and so he must do it alone now."

The drake snorted. That's stupid.

"I never said it wasn't."

Ioreth sat with her for almost half an hour, watching the flashes and flares, before she got up, patted the drake's side one more time, and then descended the stairs.

Dirhael was laid up in a large hall that had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. He had fought hard and stood back to back with the rest of their party, slaying dozens of specters and enemy orcs - and then ended up twisting his ankle while trying to help clean up in the aftermath. Celebrimbor had been amused at that - Very much his father's son - but had lent Ioreth his strength without hesitation, letting her carry him to the hall where the healers - including the king and queen - were tending the wounded.

Now Ioreth sought him out, and found him staring at the plain ceiling high overhead in frustration. (The orcs did good, solid work, but they weren't quite up to making art just yet, and especially not back when Moonshadow had first been built, when they were trying to scrape out an existence under Talion's protection, away from Sauron's control.) But Dirhael turned to look when he heard her approach. "Has Father returned?"

"Not yet." She pulled over a small stool and sat next to him. "But he - I still don't know if lives is the proper word, but I saw signs of his power from the summit of the tower."

"But they've been gone a week," Dirhael said with a frown, "Surely he would have made a decision by now."

"Your father has a very complex relationship with Celebrimbor," she replied, recalling her conversation with Talion the morning after he told them what had become of him in Mordor, "It will not be easy to resolve all that lies between them. I would not be surprised in the slightest if it took years to work through everything."

"Years?" Dirhael repeated, aghast, "But… he…"

"As I said, complex. They were friends once, and I think your father would like to be again, but a betrayal such as he endured, even if it was not completely of Celebrimbor's own will, is not so easily set aside."

She did not say, And he needs to work out where he stands in relation to both Celebrimbor and myself. And I find that while I am still angry over what happened on The Bridge, I would not object to sharing if they resolve this and Talion finds himself unwilling to let either of us go. He has always had a big heart, and I have no wish to cause him more pain.

And perhaps in time, Celebrimbor and I could come to an understanding of our own. But all of that relies on Talion, first and foremost. I will not betray my husband.

Talion and Celebrimbor did eventually return from Gorgoroth, the Ringwraith apparently satisfied with whatever apology the Elven smith had given (done kowtowing like the Easterlings if he was wise, Ioreth thought with a stab of residual anger). Then they all began working to repair the damage done by the Hammer and the Staff and their army. The specters had gotten over Moonshadow's walls to attack the city's people and tear down their homes and workplaces, so there was a lot of work to be done.

Celebrimbor and by extension Ioreth were put in charge of forging whatever was needed in metal, with Maglor as their assistant and almost two dozen inquisitive children as their eager observers. Ioreth couldn't deny that she was just as amazed as the children to watch her hands - overlaid with Celebrimbor's ghostly ones - take raw metal, sometimes fresh from the ground or even recovered from the wreckage, and shape it into something new and useful, even if it was just something as simple as nails. It was nothing she had ever thought of learning before, harder work even than fighting, but it was interesting indeed and despite all that stood between them, Celebrimbor was a skillful teacher.

My grandfather was far more skilled than I, he replied when she said as much as they handed off a bundle of metal brackets and a box of nails, Indeed, he was deemed the mightiest in skill and craftsmanship amongst all the Eldar, and spent much of his life making one thing or another, the greatest of which are the Silmarils of legend.

I have also heard that he was the one who made the Seeing Stones. Is there any truth to that?

Aye, the Palantíri also came from his hands. I have been made to understand that they were a precursor of sorts to the Silmarils, though I was but a babe-in-arms when he shaped them. But as great as his skills were, he was also known for his selfishness and pride, which were his downfall - and that of many others.

Neither of them said aloud the parallels between grandfather and grandson, but Ioreth felt regret and shame lance through Celebrimbor's fëa. Though she had only stories, in her heart of hearts she was certain that Fëanor had never regretted as Celebrimbor did the words and deeds which caused so much trouble and strife, the echoes of which they felt even now.

Perhaps, in time…

"Talion."

"Celebrimbor?"

"With yours and Ioreth's permission, there is something I would like to try."

Husband and wife exchanged a glance, then Ioreth gestured to the Elf-wraith to sit with them. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have noticed that even now that Sauron is gone, the Ninth still speaks to you," he said to the Ringwraith, "Unfortunately, I have experience with making the specific spellwork on the Nine and the Seven that bound them to Sauron, but I also know how to make Rings of Power without those spells, as with the Three. I don't know what effects, if any, it would have on your ability to brand or resurrect the dead, but I would like to study yours, to see if with the New Ring we might be able to strip out those parts of its magic without compromising the whole, to turn it from one into the other."

"Would it not be more expedient to shift from me into him and do away with that Ring entirely?" Ioreth asked, "Or replace it with the New Ring?"

"I am reluctant to have Celebrimbor possess me once more, at least right now," Talion answered her, "I have fought hard, and still do, but this Ring's corruption runs deep inside me, and I have no wish to let it deal him harm."

"And I am now bound to the New Ring,"Celebrimbor added, "Where it goes, I follow, willing or no. It might be possible to temporarily shift over, completely undo his Ring's power and remake it properly, and then shift back... but even with the New Ring still here, the power of the Eldar is fading, and I fear that if I remove the Ring's power entirely, I will not be able to put it back."

"A rock and a hard place on all sides."

"Indeed."

Ioreth sighed and turned to Talion. "What do you think, love?"

"If we can manage it, it would be nice to not have a voice in my head telling me to burn everything to the ground," the ex-Ranger said dryly.

"Then let's get started."

It took only a day for Celebrimbor to map the fine but strong weave of magic that made Talion's ring into a Ring of Power, but it took another five days for him to pick out exactly where to cut out the binding spells and how to weave the remainder back together so that the spellwork would not just unravel entirely and kill the Ringwraith it sustained. The King of Gondor and the Lord of Mordor took to talking terms of peace while the wraith traced the paths of the magic, since Talion had to stay seated with his wife and their Elf bent over his hand.

On the sixth day, when Talion signaled that he was ready, both Celebrimbor and Ioreth took a deep breath and then reached out with the New Ring, freezing the weave and working fast. Even so, they still heard the Man gasp and choke as the Ring's power was momentarily suspended, reopening the wound in his throat even as his free hand flew up in an attempt to hold it shut.

In one corner of the room, Dirhael jerked forward a step, a hand coming up, but Aragorn and Arwen caught him before he could interrupt, holding him between them even as they all watched.

It was begun - and done - in seconds, and when they released it, the Ring glowed, the jewel in the band changing from a deep blood red to clear and bright before their very eyes. Talion relaxed with a sigh, his throat sealing up once more, then rolled his fingers.

The power came easily at his call, and it was still the same poison green as before, but no longer heavy and sickening, darkly whispering in the deep corners of everyone's minds the moment it came awake. Instead it was just there, and when he flicked the power out for just an instant, reaching for one of the restless dead, the spirit came, and it did not taste of dust or decay.

Talion's shoulders slumped in relief, and despite the still-black blood now staining his front, he pulled his wife and their Elf-wraith into his arms - an embrace they returned just as fierce.