In 1590 of the Second Age, the Three Rings of Power were completed. To commemorate the occasion, the Gwaith-i-Mírdain hosted a grand feast in the city of Ost-in-Edhil.
Celebrimbor leaned against the window, a goblet of wine in his hand, which the Dwarves allegedly went to great lengths to obtain from the Misty Mountains' eastern foothills. The celebration in the square below was in its third day, but the crowd showed no signs of weariness. The atmosphere was alive with music and mirth, and cheers erupted when he was spotted, at first sparsely but quickly becoming a chorus. Dwarves of Moria and Elves of Eregion chanted together, using words that were not in the same tongue but meant the same thing:
"Celebrimbor Aulendil, the greatest maker since Fëanor!"
The greatest maker since Fëanor.
He was perplexed for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He raised his glass to the crowd below, and was met with an even louder wave of sound.
This is odd, he thought. I should be as excited as they are, if not more. Nobody knows what I've done better than I do. But why am I relieved rather than exhilarated at this moment of celebration?
"Because this is just the beginning."
A voice from behind him said. Celebrimbor waved to the crowd and retreated into the room, where he saw Annatar standing against the open door.
"Wait until your creation is truly at work, Celebrimbor, and you will appreciate it more."
"Perhaps." Celebrimbor drank the wine, and upon reflection, he realized that the mellowness was above and beyond the average drink, and he had to admit that the wine did have something special. "Are you certain you want to go? I could try -"
"I am sure Lady Galadriel would prefer my absence. I would also like to travel outside of Eregion for some time because, as you know, there is so much to discover in this world." said the man firmly and yet calmly, "Not to mention that I am afraid that after spending time with such a superbly gifted group of Firstborn, I will have nothing new to share."
Their gazes locked, and they both burst out laughing after a brief silence.
"How is it possible that your order has such concerns?" Celebrimbor put down his glass and crossed the room to hug the man, who was also a teacher and friend. "However, if you insist, so be it. Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya."
The man twisted his lips and simply smiled.
Two months after Annatar's departure, Eregion received its long-awaited guests, Galadriel and Celeborn. The messenger to Lothlórien conveyed Celebrimbor's heartfelt invitation while aptly highlighting Annatar's decision to travel far away. Even so, her willingness to come exceeded his expectations, and he had mixed feelings when he finally welcomed her back in the small hall adjacent to the garden.
"Congratulations," she said after a brief pause, "I heard about the three...Rings of Power."
"They're not like those old ones," he corrected her, "I usually call them the Three, but they each have their own name."
They continued to talk for half a day, exchanging anecdotes accumulated over the years. The land east of the Misty Mountains and the forests where ancient people had ventured sounded no less intriguing to him than the prospect of discovering all sorts of new and exotic materials; as she described it, he gradually drew a mental picture of Lothlórien but also sensed that she couldn't yet make up her mind to make it her home.
"Are you still planning to return to that place? It appears you find it unsatisfactory there," he inquired tentatively.
"Where in the Middle-earth is it as satisfactory as it can be?" she laughed, slightly helpless.
"You could stay at Eregion," he suggested.
"No." She responded immediately.
"If it's because of Annatar, you can rest assured that he will be gone for a while and probably won't be back for a long time," he said, skipping the head-scratching inflections.
She responded bluntly to his candor, "Yet he will return. You trust him, but I do not. That is where we have always disagreed."
"He saved my life," he said, looking into her eyes, which were clearer and brighter than any jewel, and wondering what it would take to convince her to let go of her prejudices, "and it nearly cost him this bodily form. We are both aware that even a race that existed before the World is bound by the laws of this mortal land. Why would he go to such lengths for a mere Firstborn like me, if he is as evil as you suspect?"
"You are not a mere Firstborn," she said quietly, "You are Celebrimbor, the greatest maker since Fëanor."
She still wouldn't commit to staying long, but his persistence paid off - she would stay in Eregion for the time being. After all, it was much closer to Mithlond and Lindon here. "Just take it as simply for Celebrían," he said half-jokingly, having learnt of her daughter's ongoing romance with Elrond the Half-elven; to his surprise, she thought about it for a moment and consented.
But none of that matters. He reflected after he escorted her back to her temporary lodging. What matters is that she stays here, and that she will eventually understand the meaning of his creation.
He had the impression that time had flown by while he was working on the Three Rings. Now that he had accomplished his goal and was relaxed, he realized that time had flown by faster than ever before. After several summers, he considered going to Lindon but quickly dismissed the idea. I don't have to go; all I have to do is refocus my mind and keep it busy. Ereinion must be bored without my constant annoyance...
He didn't know if he was overusing his mind that night, but he didn't sleep well.
He was groping in the dark, unable to see, with a low rumble in his ears and hard boulders beneath his feet. The more he moved forward, the more heat surrounded him, and the heat was almost unbearable. He passed through a narrow passageway, panting and sweating, and then there was a light in front of him, revealing a wide open space.
Only then did he realize he was standing on a narrow stone beam with steep cliffs on either side. Looking down, the depths were filled with a constant surge of dark red, churning out blinding golden sparks every now and then.
At the end of the stone beam, behind the heavy smoke and steam, there seemed to be a man.
He was about to take a step when he heard a long laugh that shook the chamber of fire. A strange hissing sound accompanied the laughter, with a familiar pronunciation but of a completely unfamiliar language, like a sharp sword thrust into the mind. He couldn't help but scream and retreat, raising his hands to cover his ears, but the cruel, cold words continued.
One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all
and in the darkness bind them.
Tongues of fire arose. Black smoke coiled, dispersed, and shot upwards. From the cliff's edge, the man turned around. Strands of bright blond hair flew in the hot wind, revealing a handsome familiar face.
He opened his eyes, terrified, and felt his heart almost jump out of his throat, his entire body dripping with cold sweat. This is not true. He thought to himself. This cannot be true. The ring on his finger, however, continued to burn, and the sensation of skin sizzling under heat was all too real, despite his refusal to admit it. He forced himself to raise his hand, but before he could look at it, a long, sad cry filled with unspoken suspicion and fear came from the endless night outside the window.
And on his hand, as if echoing that cry, an eerie shimmer flared up and slowly faded.