"My Lords, much has happened in the past years of our cooperation. You have
granted me much joy, in the sight of your works, much fulfillment, in
allowing me to teach what little I know, much happiness, in the quiet bliss
of your home, and such pleasure, in yours, the warmest of company"
Annatar's voice flowed over the cheerful company, as he walked around the
massive wooden table, where a gathering of the mightiest of Eriador now
met.
Celebrimbor sat on one end at the head of the table, and he looked pleased and quiet, his large brown eyes shining peacefully behind huge eyebrows, his massive hands posited around his cup. He was clad in brown and gray, and his curly brown hair, equal to his beard, was very similar to a dwarfs.
Annatar was holding his cup in his hand, and pacing slowly around the table, from his end, where he had been placed in the seat of honor for that evening, to where Celebrimbor sat. He had called for a toast, and all cups were raised, merry eyes staring at him.
Galadriel, in the midst of the elven folk, could also not take her eyes away from him. It surprised her how suddenly he could do things like that. She was shocked by his ease to gather all attention to himself, as if that was only natural. He oozed charm, his moves slick and soft, his pace elegant, his cup held just right, his voice soft and rich, and husky, a melody of power within it.
Celebrimbor seemed pleased enough, Galadriel noticed. She thought about it, and decided she would never like to be in Celebrimbor's position. Annatar was approaching him, a smile on his handsome face, his cup raised, and Galadriel thought for a moment he looked like a large, elegant wolf that could strike easily. It was a wonder how much he reminded her of specific animals at times. No, she decided, she would never want Annatar to point her out in the crowd like he just did Celebrimbor, and to walk toward her in the manner he walked now.
Annatar continued, his voice a melody. "To Celebrimbor, mightiest of the elven-smiths! And to the deeds of today and of the days which have preceded them: to the gold we have combined, the first one from which the rings shall be made! And to the days before us, my lords and ladies, to the peace in Middle Earth, and to the Light of the Trees upon its fair face!" Annatar stood by Celebrimbor's chair, and raised the cup high. Celebrimbor got up, in the fashion of the Eregion elves, and bowed, and then drank from his cup. The elves cheered, and the cups where drained.
And Galadriel watched. No, he hadn't. She had observed, and Annatar hadn't drunk. In the ruckus that ensued, with cheering and commenting, and elves adding to the toast, and all claiming the day was a joyful one indeed, Annatar stood, dark as the night, his eyes ablaze, a dreaming wizard, a spiteful fay, amidst the crowd. He was untouched by the merriment, and the colors of the elven folk, which now stood up to dance and sing in the hall next to that one, where the fire was, did not stir him. Galadriel gazed in quiet wander. He, draped in black, his eyes fires, with a secret smile, was like an image of the first age she had thought long gone by, amidst the merry folk of Eriador. Their garments, in brown, green and yellow passed around him, and he continued there, unaware, his cup in his hand. Some tapped him on the back as they passed by, and most smiled, but none seem to notice the quite power she sensed, and the strangeness of that man.
She got up then, since she did not want him to notice she was staring. Annatar stirred, and walked to her, now that the room was almost empty, and all were heading to the Hall of Fire. His eyes were still ablaze, but present, and he smiled at her, but differently. It was a smile of recognition, and she sensed he was pleased she was there.
"Annatar" she whispered, suddenly wanting to be alone with him
"My lady" He said, stopping very close to her. She looked up at the fiery eyes, and that chest next to her. He stood much taller than she, and his shoulders were massive, blocking the light of the candles and torches blazing from the pillars and the walls behind him.
"Will you go to the Hall of Fire? I deem they will expect you. And ask you to sing" She said, in as soft a voice as she could.
He smiled "I should." The smile still played on his lips, changing into a more cynical one. She noticed.
"But you do not want to. Wont you rather sit with me outside, if you would? There is a wind, and it seems wild. It is probably cold too, but I feel like clearing my head." He felt so warm, standing close to her like that. Her voice was again but a whisper, it seemed as though those eyes enraptured her, and she could not talk much, or even think clearly.
"I'd rather be outside, yes." He whispered back, leaning forward. "I'd rather be in the wind".
This frightened her, because he was suddenly too close. His face was but inches away from hers, and he looked so high and strong . No matter how much closer they had been, sometimes his moves seemed dangerous. His eyes were ablaze, staring down at her, the fire in them red, and the brims black. Like a wolfs eyes, she thought. Like that wolf she had once met, in the snow. Annatar was darkness and shadow and flame now, and she backed a bit away. They were alone in the room, for all had left, and she suddenly wished for Celebrimbor.
Oh, why? She thought. Why did I have to give in like that. Years and years of serenity, and then a Lord looks at me, and I give myself to him. And now, I fear him, and I have to play this strange game.. And how he is staring at me, as though he could kill and eat me now, if it wasn't for the others being so close..
"Let's go outside" Annatar said, enjoying the fear in her eyes. He had not meant to frighten her, but his thought were on the gold of today, and on his plan, and without wishing it, they must have transmitted, since she was cowering and unsure before him. He stood tall, and dark, and the flame in his pupils increased. His voice was commanding, ans she saw not the handsome Lord Annatar, but a different creature, or power and strength, a Maia in the shape of a tall man, and deadly, and dangerous.
"I said that, you know, but to think better, it could be too cold. Let's instead got to the Hall. We've lingered here enough. We must be expected" She snapped, suddenly aware of the situation. How inappropriate. She had stayed with him too long even in here, alone. Enough to let for whispers to begin. And to walk out like so, into the night. It would not dfo, not at all.
She tried to convince herself she was only caring for demeanor. However, she knew better. Annatar's eyes had a flame that frightened her, and she was scared of following this strange being outside just then. She felt cold, all of a sudden, and perplexed. How could someone that seemed so pleasing one moment, suddenly change so much. A wind seemed to catch her, even in the warm room and she braced herself, from the chill.
The room began changing then, and she thought she half-heard a chant coming form somewhere. A slow chant, in an ancient tongue. Suddenly she realized she had to get out of there. The light in the candles flickered low, and the wind became more powerful and colder. How was there a wind in the closed room? Suddenly, as Annatar's eyes began to form into two orbs of darkness and fire, the hairs on her neck stood. The room was almost dark now, all lights having dimmed to the lowest, and the shiniest thing in it were the eyes which increased in glow, a yellowish glow, as the room itself dimmed. The wind held a whisper in it, and a menace. Galadriel shuddered, in panic. The wind picked Annatar's robe, and he looked as if flying, a dark raven with unnatural eyes. She mustered her strength, and in a bolt, tried to pass by him, escaping his gaze, and made for the door, but in a swift move, he grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him.
It was impulsive, and he was shocked by it too, although he didn't let that show. Frightening her as he just did, for the sake simply of showing his power, was really foolish. But he did impulsive things at times, and Galadriel was his new toy.
Yet still, the manner she just bolted like that, instead of cowering in fear, as anyone else would have done, surprised him. She was brave.
And there was something else.
Annatar had played his game today well, and he knew that the plan was workingl. But to have to gaze at those elven faces some more, to listen to the shallow words, to participate in another meaningless conversation, to obey Celebrimbor, to play another song, to play another part.. He was tired, and he felt trapped. A trap of his own devise, but a trap: not freedom. And he longed for freedom. When Galadriel stood up, just now, in white, and small and slender compared to the elven lords around her, when she stood, and he looked at her, he knew that with her he was safe. He could relax, and let go, and be as much himself as he ever dared. She had a power in her, to make him want to just forget everything. It was her that allowed him to actually rest, and really sleep, for the first time while he was here. Ever had he felt threatened, or annoyed, or busy planning, or studying, or wandering in the night alone to lay and rest. But in her warm bed, with her hand on him, and her body soft and close to his, he felt peaceful, and afe, and eh elt go, and closed his eyes, and sleep came.
The dreams which haunted him, and for which he did not dare sleep, did not come that night.
"Come with me outside" he said, pulling her into an embrace. Galadriel tried to pull away, frightened, but realized could not. His hand was as steel, and his look determined. The voice was soft, and persuasive, though. "No, Annatar. Let me go! Someone could see, and you know I don't want that!" She was suddenly annoyed. How stupid! Of course he would have all types of demands, since he thought she was his.
"Galadriel" he whispered, and suddenly felt a fire inside him grow. She was soft and gentle, but her hair in the light of the candles, her lips, pressed together, those eyes gazing in anger up at him, he remembered her in his embrace, and suddenly desired her. So he pulled her closer, clasping her to his chest. She struggled a little, but he held firmly, and when she was sure she could not escape, she settled there in resignation.
"Galadriel" he repeated, now softer. How odd, he thought. She was acting with him as if nothing at all had happened between them. He did not want that. And he did not want her frightened, or leaving him.
"Let's then go to the Hall" he said, attempting to soothe her. He had been stupid, and he wanted her now. He had to let her trust him again. But when she looked up again at him, after a while, he shuddered, and backed away.
She was crying.
He stood there for a while, not really understanding, and then, since she hadn't moved, embraced her again. "Did I frighten you?" This was not good. If someone went to look for them, and saw her standing and crying, it would not do him well. And just the fact that he had made Galadriel, the greatest of the Noldo of Middle Earth, the fearless White Lady cry was startling.
"No, don't.." he tried, as she began sobbing against this shoulder.
'Annatar" she whispered softly, and clutched to him. He did not know what to do, so he picked her up, and took her out of the room, and through the corridors, outside. Their rooms were far on the other end of the gardens, and he was not sure what she wanted, but he knew that he could not let anyone see this.
She did not raise her head from his shoulder, or move as he did all that. She seemed to have slumped into his embrace, or fallen asleep, and it felt like carrying a child, for she was light. "Galadriel.." he called, and she stirred, still crying.
"Annatar, just don't leave me" she said, in a meek voice. The though of his just leaving her there, and going to join the party, as she remained crying in the cold night was unbearable. He sensed a deep pain inside her, and sat down in a shaded place, beneath the bows of a bush, and brought her closer. The night was very cold, and the air around them black. He began rocking her, not really knowing why.
"I shan't leave you." He answered, suddenly really sorry.
Celebrimbor sat on one end at the head of the table, and he looked pleased and quiet, his large brown eyes shining peacefully behind huge eyebrows, his massive hands posited around his cup. He was clad in brown and gray, and his curly brown hair, equal to his beard, was very similar to a dwarfs.
Annatar was holding his cup in his hand, and pacing slowly around the table, from his end, where he had been placed in the seat of honor for that evening, to where Celebrimbor sat. He had called for a toast, and all cups were raised, merry eyes staring at him.
Galadriel, in the midst of the elven folk, could also not take her eyes away from him. It surprised her how suddenly he could do things like that. She was shocked by his ease to gather all attention to himself, as if that was only natural. He oozed charm, his moves slick and soft, his pace elegant, his cup held just right, his voice soft and rich, and husky, a melody of power within it.
Celebrimbor seemed pleased enough, Galadriel noticed. She thought about it, and decided she would never like to be in Celebrimbor's position. Annatar was approaching him, a smile on his handsome face, his cup raised, and Galadriel thought for a moment he looked like a large, elegant wolf that could strike easily. It was a wonder how much he reminded her of specific animals at times. No, she decided, she would never want Annatar to point her out in the crowd like he just did Celebrimbor, and to walk toward her in the manner he walked now.
Annatar continued, his voice a melody. "To Celebrimbor, mightiest of the elven-smiths! And to the deeds of today and of the days which have preceded them: to the gold we have combined, the first one from which the rings shall be made! And to the days before us, my lords and ladies, to the peace in Middle Earth, and to the Light of the Trees upon its fair face!" Annatar stood by Celebrimbor's chair, and raised the cup high. Celebrimbor got up, in the fashion of the Eregion elves, and bowed, and then drank from his cup. The elves cheered, and the cups where drained.
And Galadriel watched. No, he hadn't. She had observed, and Annatar hadn't drunk. In the ruckus that ensued, with cheering and commenting, and elves adding to the toast, and all claiming the day was a joyful one indeed, Annatar stood, dark as the night, his eyes ablaze, a dreaming wizard, a spiteful fay, amidst the crowd. He was untouched by the merriment, and the colors of the elven folk, which now stood up to dance and sing in the hall next to that one, where the fire was, did not stir him. Galadriel gazed in quiet wander. He, draped in black, his eyes fires, with a secret smile, was like an image of the first age she had thought long gone by, amidst the merry folk of Eriador. Their garments, in brown, green and yellow passed around him, and he continued there, unaware, his cup in his hand. Some tapped him on the back as they passed by, and most smiled, but none seem to notice the quite power she sensed, and the strangeness of that man.
She got up then, since she did not want him to notice she was staring. Annatar stirred, and walked to her, now that the room was almost empty, and all were heading to the Hall of Fire. His eyes were still ablaze, but present, and he smiled at her, but differently. It was a smile of recognition, and she sensed he was pleased she was there.
"Annatar" she whispered, suddenly wanting to be alone with him
"My lady" He said, stopping very close to her. She looked up at the fiery eyes, and that chest next to her. He stood much taller than she, and his shoulders were massive, blocking the light of the candles and torches blazing from the pillars and the walls behind him.
"Will you go to the Hall of Fire? I deem they will expect you. And ask you to sing" She said, in as soft a voice as she could.
He smiled "I should." The smile still played on his lips, changing into a more cynical one. She noticed.
"But you do not want to. Wont you rather sit with me outside, if you would? There is a wind, and it seems wild. It is probably cold too, but I feel like clearing my head." He felt so warm, standing close to her like that. Her voice was again but a whisper, it seemed as though those eyes enraptured her, and she could not talk much, or even think clearly.
"I'd rather be outside, yes." He whispered back, leaning forward. "I'd rather be in the wind".
This frightened her, because he was suddenly too close. His face was but inches away from hers, and he looked so high and strong . No matter how much closer they had been, sometimes his moves seemed dangerous. His eyes were ablaze, staring down at her, the fire in them red, and the brims black. Like a wolfs eyes, she thought. Like that wolf she had once met, in the snow. Annatar was darkness and shadow and flame now, and she backed a bit away. They were alone in the room, for all had left, and she suddenly wished for Celebrimbor.
Oh, why? She thought. Why did I have to give in like that. Years and years of serenity, and then a Lord looks at me, and I give myself to him. And now, I fear him, and I have to play this strange game.. And how he is staring at me, as though he could kill and eat me now, if it wasn't for the others being so close..
"Let's go outside" Annatar said, enjoying the fear in her eyes. He had not meant to frighten her, but his thought were on the gold of today, and on his plan, and without wishing it, they must have transmitted, since she was cowering and unsure before him. He stood tall, and dark, and the flame in his pupils increased. His voice was commanding, ans she saw not the handsome Lord Annatar, but a different creature, or power and strength, a Maia in the shape of a tall man, and deadly, and dangerous.
"I said that, you know, but to think better, it could be too cold. Let's instead got to the Hall. We've lingered here enough. We must be expected" She snapped, suddenly aware of the situation. How inappropriate. She had stayed with him too long even in here, alone. Enough to let for whispers to begin. And to walk out like so, into the night. It would not dfo, not at all.
She tried to convince herself she was only caring for demeanor. However, she knew better. Annatar's eyes had a flame that frightened her, and she was scared of following this strange being outside just then. She felt cold, all of a sudden, and perplexed. How could someone that seemed so pleasing one moment, suddenly change so much. A wind seemed to catch her, even in the warm room and she braced herself, from the chill.
The room began changing then, and she thought she half-heard a chant coming form somewhere. A slow chant, in an ancient tongue. Suddenly she realized she had to get out of there. The light in the candles flickered low, and the wind became more powerful and colder. How was there a wind in the closed room? Suddenly, as Annatar's eyes began to form into two orbs of darkness and fire, the hairs on her neck stood. The room was almost dark now, all lights having dimmed to the lowest, and the shiniest thing in it were the eyes which increased in glow, a yellowish glow, as the room itself dimmed. The wind held a whisper in it, and a menace. Galadriel shuddered, in panic. The wind picked Annatar's robe, and he looked as if flying, a dark raven with unnatural eyes. She mustered her strength, and in a bolt, tried to pass by him, escaping his gaze, and made for the door, but in a swift move, he grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him.
It was impulsive, and he was shocked by it too, although he didn't let that show. Frightening her as he just did, for the sake simply of showing his power, was really foolish. But he did impulsive things at times, and Galadriel was his new toy.
Yet still, the manner she just bolted like that, instead of cowering in fear, as anyone else would have done, surprised him. She was brave.
And there was something else.
Annatar had played his game today well, and he knew that the plan was workingl. But to have to gaze at those elven faces some more, to listen to the shallow words, to participate in another meaningless conversation, to obey Celebrimbor, to play another song, to play another part.. He was tired, and he felt trapped. A trap of his own devise, but a trap: not freedom. And he longed for freedom. When Galadriel stood up, just now, in white, and small and slender compared to the elven lords around her, when she stood, and he looked at her, he knew that with her he was safe. He could relax, and let go, and be as much himself as he ever dared. She had a power in her, to make him want to just forget everything. It was her that allowed him to actually rest, and really sleep, for the first time while he was here. Ever had he felt threatened, or annoyed, or busy planning, or studying, or wandering in the night alone to lay and rest. But in her warm bed, with her hand on him, and her body soft and close to his, he felt peaceful, and afe, and eh elt go, and closed his eyes, and sleep came.
The dreams which haunted him, and for which he did not dare sleep, did not come that night.
"Come with me outside" he said, pulling her into an embrace. Galadriel tried to pull away, frightened, but realized could not. His hand was as steel, and his look determined. The voice was soft, and persuasive, though. "No, Annatar. Let me go! Someone could see, and you know I don't want that!" She was suddenly annoyed. How stupid! Of course he would have all types of demands, since he thought she was his.
"Galadriel" he whispered, and suddenly felt a fire inside him grow. She was soft and gentle, but her hair in the light of the candles, her lips, pressed together, those eyes gazing in anger up at him, he remembered her in his embrace, and suddenly desired her. So he pulled her closer, clasping her to his chest. She struggled a little, but he held firmly, and when she was sure she could not escape, she settled there in resignation.
"Galadriel" he repeated, now softer. How odd, he thought. She was acting with him as if nothing at all had happened between them. He did not want that. And he did not want her frightened, or leaving him.
"Let's then go to the Hall" he said, attempting to soothe her. He had been stupid, and he wanted her now. He had to let her trust him again. But when she looked up again at him, after a while, he shuddered, and backed away.
She was crying.
He stood there for a while, not really understanding, and then, since she hadn't moved, embraced her again. "Did I frighten you?" This was not good. If someone went to look for them, and saw her standing and crying, it would not do him well. And just the fact that he had made Galadriel, the greatest of the Noldo of Middle Earth, the fearless White Lady cry was startling.
"No, don't.." he tried, as she began sobbing against this shoulder.
'Annatar" she whispered softly, and clutched to him. He did not know what to do, so he picked her up, and took her out of the room, and through the corridors, outside. Their rooms were far on the other end of the gardens, and he was not sure what she wanted, but he knew that he could not let anyone see this.
She did not raise her head from his shoulder, or move as he did all that. She seemed to have slumped into his embrace, or fallen asleep, and it felt like carrying a child, for she was light. "Galadriel.." he called, and she stirred, still crying.
"Annatar, just don't leave me" she said, in a meek voice. The though of his just leaving her there, and going to join the party, as she remained crying in the cold night was unbearable. He sensed a deep pain inside her, and sat down in a shaded place, beneath the bows of a bush, and brought her closer. The night was very cold, and the air around them black. He began rocking her, not really knowing why.
"I shan't leave you." He answered, suddenly really sorry.