The next day, Galadriel saw Annatar briefly. The night had been odd and
wonderful, but she was afraid it was the result of the wine, the fire and
the tiredness, and that the charm would pass as swiftly as it had come.
Annatar was leaving for the smithies in the evening when she saw him, and he looked at her across the number of other elves which were heading there. Celebrimbor was among them, a good friend to Galadriel, and they had spent most of the day together, catching up. Celebrimbor was entertaining, but as he talked to her, explaining that they liked to work at night, for the air was cooler, and the fires in the smithies did not bother them so much that way, she glanced over his shoulder to catch a look of Annatar, whose eyes seemed darker now, in the dimming light.
Annatar smiled, before he turned to leave with the large company. She smiled back, and hoped Celebrimbor had not noticed. Annatar's smile had been reassuring, the sign that the distrust had faded among them, and that he had enjoyed the talk. She was eager, though, to speak to him again.
Suddenly, Celebrimbor's story seemed much more interesting. "Indeed, and this work by night, of which you tell me" she now turned to him, yet still thinking of Annatar "whence do you end it? With the first rays of the sun, I deem?"
Celebrimbor nodded, very satisfied. Galadriel had long been a friend, on her side. On his, the feeling was perhaps deeper. A strong reverence, and a deep wonder and admiration, for what he conceived to be the most beautiful and courageous lady he had ever known. Celebrimbor was of the slow type himself, a rosy-cheeked, massive man, with strong arms and a good natured disposition. He was very intelligent, and a master craftsmen, and greatly respected in Eregion and beyond. Yet his knowledge was more restricted, focusing on the craft of forging, and abandoning all else. He knew little, and cared less, for poetry or song, for books and lore, for long walks or deeds of war. His delight was in the mines, the smithies, the earth, and he loved all things which shone, jewel and precious metals, which he could wield into a shape of his desire.
Yet Galadriel's presence he thought soothing. And although he could not fully understand her spirit, the idea that she might have an interest in what he was doing was very appealing.
"Ay, we leave the forges in the morning. As soon as the sun begins to raise, we take our rest. It is an odd shift, but a better one. Before, we used to work a during the day, but the fires are hotter now, for we forge much, and it is better to do it in the cold night."
Galadriel smiled at him, and wished him a productive evening. She then left, all the while thinking of the morning.
It was early, and the day was not yet white. The towers shone in the first rays of the sunshine which opened on the horizon, and the dew and mists were still heavy. Galadriels stood, deeply wrapped, on the same terrace she had met Annatar several days ago. She had let some time pass, for she did not want to rush anything, but the only time she had seen him since their talk was on that evening as he left for the mines, and she had grown restless to hear his voice again. That morning, she thought to wait for his return from the mines. His chambers were close to hers, in the most comfortable house of the palaces. The hall was the easiest manner of reaching them, and she could look on those which passed by it from the terrace, without having to reveal herself. With the beginning of the day, he came, walking slowly among the pillars, and gazing at a small ring he held in his hand. He seemed lost in thought, as he strode slowly. Galadriel gazed in admiration. He almost seemed to shift, in the cold and the morning mist, into a more animal like shape, as she had seen him on that night seven days ago. A wolf, perhaps. His stride was easy and soft, his eyes on the circlet, his body swaying in a soft motion.
She let him pass her, and then stepped from behind the pillar she had stood by. He felt the motion, no more than that was necessary, and he turned, still lost in thought. She walked to him, unsurely, as it seemed he did not desire company. She felt foolish, suddenly, for thinking there had been any connection between them, or that they might have a chance to repeat that talk. In the morning pale light, he was distant and cold, and she shrank in the sense of defeat and shame. He stared at her, unsure. He did not know what to say. Truly enough, he was tired, and that day was a particularly worrisome one, as the art of the forging of rings was not developing as smoothly as he would have wished it.
" I thought you might want a tea" She said, trying to sound as normal as she could. He thought about this for a while. Tea was one of the drinks he hated. "No." He answered crudely, still fingering the little ring. " Oh!" She replied, without really knowing what to say.
"What would you drink? I'll bring it to you if you'd rather, case you are tired. I felt I had to thank you for that night. And you seem to be working very hard." She almost whispered these last words. She really did not know what to say.
Annatar was amused. " I can have a warm wine again" he concluded, suddenly more cheerful. Galadriels voice, as a soft fountain, reminded him of that night too, and he felt the peace of that fire and the wine they had had as relaxing. The harsh conversation with the smiths, the dialogue with Celebrimbor, the noise of the hammers, and the steady roar of the fire had blocked his ears and his mind. He suddenly wished for her steady murmur, and the thought of putting his feet up on the table, and being able to talk of something else.
Annatar was leaving for the smithies in the evening when she saw him, and he looked at her across the number of other elves which were heading there. Celebrimbor was among them, a good friend to Galadriel, and they had spent most of the day together, catching up. Celebrimbor was entertaining, but as he talked to her, explaining that they liked to work at night, for the air was cooler, and the fires in the smithies did not bother them so much that way, she glanced over his shoulder to catch a look of Annatar, whose eyes seemed darker now, in the dimming light.
Annatar smiled, before he turned to leave with the large company. She smiled back, and hoped Celebrimbor had not noticed. Annatar's smile had been reassuring, the sign that the distrust had faded among them, and that he had enjoyed the talk. She was eager, though, to speak to him again.
Suddenly, Celebrimbor's story seemed much more interesting. "Indeed, and this work by night, of which you tell me" she now turned to him, yet still thinking of Annatar "whence do you end it? With the first rays of the sun, I deem?"
Celebrimbor nodded, very satisfied. Galadriel had long been a friend, on her side. On his, the feeling was perhaps deeper. A strong reverence, and a deep wonder and admiration, for what he conceived to be the most beautiful and courageous lady he had ever known. Celebrimbor was of the slow type himself, a rosy-cheeked, massive man, with strong arms and a good natured disposition. He was very intelligent, and a master craftsmen, and greatly respected in Eregion and beyond. Yet his knowledge was more restricted, focusing on the craft of forging, and abandoning all else. He knew little, and cared less, for poetry or song, for books and lore, for long walks or deeds of war. His delight was in the mines, the smithies, the earth, and he loved all things which shone, jewel and precious metals, which he could wield into a shape of his desire.
Yet Galadriel's presence he thought soothing. And although he could not fully understand her spirit, the idea that she might have an interest in what he was doing was very appealing.
"Ay, we leave the forges in the morning. As soon as the sun begins to raise, we take our rest. It is an odd shift, but a better one. Before, we used to work a during the day, but the fires are hotter now, for we forge much, and it is better to do it in the cold night."
Galadriel smiled at him, and wished him a productive evening. She then left, all the while thinking of the morning.
It was early, and the day was not yet white. The towers shone in the first rays of the sunshine which opened on the horizon, and the dew and mists were still heavy. Galadriels stood, deeply wrapped, on the same terrace she had met Annatar several days ago. She had let some time pass, for she did not want to rush anything, but the only time she had seen him since their talk was on that evening as he left for the mines, and she had grown restless to hear his voice again. That morning, she thought to wait for his return from the mines. His chambers were close to hers, in the most comfortable house of the palaces. The hall was the easiest manner of reaching them, and she could look on those which passed by it from the terrace, without having to reveal herself. With the beginning of the day, he came, walking slowly among the pillars, and gazing at a small ring he held in his hand. He seemed lost in thought, as he strode slowly. Galadriel gazed in admiration. He almost seemed to shift, in the cold and the morning mist, into a more animal like shape, as she had seen him on that night seven days ago. A wolf, perhaps. His stride was easy and soft, his eyes on the circlet, his body swaying in a soft motion.
She let him pass her, and then stepped from behind the pillar she had stood by. He felt the motion, no more than that was necessary, and he turned, still lost in thought. She walked to him, unsurely, as it seemed he did not desire company. She felt foolish, suddenly, for thinking there had been any connection between them, or that they might have a chance to repeat that talk. In the morning pale light, he was distant and cold, and she shrank in the sense of defeat and shame. He stared at her, unsure. He did not know what to say. Truly enough, he was tired, and that day was a particularly worrisome one, as the art of the forging of rings was not developing as smoothly as he would have wished it.
" I thought you might want a tea" She said, trying to sound as normal as she could. He thought about this for a while. Tea was one of the drinks he hated. "No." He answered crudely, still fingering the little ring. " Oh!" She replied, without really knowing what to say.
"What would you drink? I'll bring it to you if you'd rather, case you are tired. I felt I had to thank you for that night. And you seem to be working very hard." She almost whispered these last words. She really did not know what to say.
Annatar was amused. " I can have a warm wine again" he concluded, suddenly more cheerful. Galadriels voice, as a soft fountain, reminded him of that night too, and he felt the peace of that fire and the wine they had had as relaxing. The harsh conversation with the smiths, the dialogue with Celebrimbor, the noise of the hammers, and the steady roar of the fire had blocked his ears and his mind. He suddenly wished for her steady murmur, and the thought of putting his feet up on the table, and being able to talk of something else.