Artanis shouldered one of her bags, looked up the steps to her father's
house, then back down the street. It was too late though; the servants had
spotted her and rushed down the steps to collect her baggage. She sighed
and went in, refusing to let them carry off the bag she had on her
shoulder. To make matters worse, her father stood in the hallway.
"Don't even say it," she warned him. "Yes, I've been sent home by another tutor."
"I wasn't going to say it," he replied mildly, "because it isn't your fault. I'd already heard that the Valar will need Olórin's help for awhile."
"And you believe that?!" She began to stomp up the stairs towards her room.
"Yes, as it happens, I do," he called up after her. "Olórin may only be a Maia, but he seems to understand us better than any of them do, and they feel that they need his council."
An hour later, her mood had improved and she ventured downstairs again. "He did sound sorry to send me away, but perhaps he was just being nice."
This made Finarfin laugh. "My dear, among the things I do not expect Olórin to teach you is excessive tact. He says what he means, a wonderful trait that many people fail to appreciate."
Artanis nearly grumbled to her father that no-one ever liked it when she said what she meant, but there was no point to that, as he would only tell her that tact was not what one said but how one said it. Having bitten that complaint back, she forged on. "I suppose I should go to school here in town, then."
Finarfin shook his head. "I looked into that and was sorely disappointed. They aren't offering any subjects that you haven't mastered, except for some astronomy... No, I didn't think so either. However, there is at least one short-term project that you could take over for me..."
She tried to appear enthused. "Absolutely, what do you need me to do?"
Sitting up a little straighter, Finarfin began carefully, "D'you remember that young man from the race, Celeborn?"
She nodded. "He's a cousin of sorts, isn't he? Why didn't I meet him before?" She asked.
"He's a cousin no more. Olwë let Galadhon have his way and disown the boy. Olwë has granted Celeborn what he must consider a princely gift, the valley east of Ringlin."
"Fëanor... Uncle Fëanor, I mean, has a hunting lodge up there, doesn't he?"
Finarfin leaned back and sighed, "He and a bunch of his hangers-on. It was quite a lively place until last year, when he was exiled and chose to move to Formenos. It's a lot further from Ringlin than Tirion was, and I hear that he, his sons, and his friends have new places to hunt that are somewhat more convenient. Ringlin is deserted and likely to remain so. Therefore, I would like you go, collect Celeborn, and bring him back here."
"Is Celeborn at Ringlin now?"
Finarfin nodded, "The point of the gift was to get him out of Alqualondë and keep him out of Alqualondë, which is done. But the boy's not yet forty years old and has no one to talk to for miles. No occupation, either. There's an old road to the sea there, but from before Alqualondë was built, and no one has used it since. You might as well bring him here and he can idle about with your brothers and cousins, or work here with me. At least he'll have company. Few in Alqualondë ever come to Tirion, and I think Celeborn is too sensible to get into much trouble." Finarfin sighed, undoubtedly thinking of a few of the scrapes he'd pulled Artanis' brothers out of.
Artanis asked, "Has Celebrimbor been to see you? About working?"
Finarfin shook his head, "No, why should he?" Recognizing the distress in her eyes he bent forward, "Artanis, I know you'd like to see him out of that house, but they're his family. If I were to foster him, his grandfather would never forgive him. I've heard Fëanor praise Curufin's and Celebrimbor's skills to the sky even as he disparages the talents of others."
"Like you," Artanis' eyes narrowed, "Or Caranthir."
Finarfin smiled and shook his head again. "It doesn't matter what he says about my smithing, as long as he buys my hammers, tongs, anvils, what-have- you. I'm richer than he by far, because I don't hoard what I make. I've never understood what makes someone want to collect jewels more than, say, nails..."
Artanis quickly bored of the familiar tirade. "So you haven't seen him at all?"
"Celeborn? No, all my news on that front is through your mother. Celebrimbor, however, is in town, briefly, running some errands for his family. I think he'd be enormously pleased if you'd visit with him."
***
Celebrimbor did seem pleased to see her. She'd gone to find him at Finwë's house, otherwise unoccupied since the latter had gone to join Fëanor in exile. "You're dressed for riding," he observed. "Please tell me you're not going hunting, and I'll come with you."
"I'm not, not really. Just going to rescue a wayward kinsman, except he's not, since he's been disowned."
"Right, the Telerin prince... What did he do? We couldn't find that out. You wouldn't believe how little news we get at Formenos. My uncles have charged me to bring back all of the gossip I can find in Tirion."
"Nothing, for all I can tell. You can ask him yourself, if you're coming with."
"We're not riding are we? Let's take my carriage instead. It's much more comfortable and has room for a picnic. Where are we going, anyway? Wasn't he exiled?"
"No, of course not, you know that would be scandalous and my grandfather Olwë hates scandal. Celeborn has been made a baron or something and is lord of some valley near Ringlin. Your family used to go there, so you can be my native guide."
"Oh, I know the one! They've made him lord of that?! No one lives there! He has been exiled." Celebrimbor shouted to the servants to ready the carriage and their picnic.
"I don't think Olwë knows about Ringlin being abandoned."
"Can't tell you what a relief it is to me; it's cold up there. Oh, I'd better get us extra cloaks." Celebrimbor dashed up the stairs, two at a time. Artanis leaned back against the wall and listened to the servants dashing to and fro, shouting orders at each other.
Soon enough, they were driving up into the mountains in Celebrimbor's little open carriage. "Wonderful, isn't it?" he asked her. "The uncles made it for me. Got tired of me grumbling about saddle-sores, I suppose." Artanis merely smiled.
"This is for you," he added, fishing a small box out of his pocket and handing it to her. Artanis opened the box. Starlight glittered within it. She pulled out a bracelet that seemed to be set with little stars, jewels, she realized, that shone with their own clear light.
"This is amazing," she gasped, when she had recovered enough to speak again.
Celebrimbor shook his head sadly, "Grandfather figured out how to make those when he was just a pup. But I figure I've got to master them before I can move on. Don't worry, I'll be able to make you something better before too long."
Artanis thanked him as she put it on. Out here, far from the light of the Trees, the little star-jewels shone brilliantly. "No hope of you coming to Formenos, is there?" Celebrimbor asked.
"None," Artanis told him firmly. "Your grandfather and I do not get on, and you'd probably get into trouble for inviting me."
Celebrimbor changed the subject. "This Celeborn, he ran in the race with you. Won by trickery, Grandfather said."
"He's wrong," Artanis snapped. "Celeborn saw a shortcut that I didn't. That's how he won. But I understand he was held up at the starting point, so I'm not sure that he wouldn't have anyway. I'd like to run against him for real against him someday." Celebrimbor looked away from her and fell silent.
***
Ringlin was only half a day's ride from Tirion, but high into the mountains and, as Celebrimbor had said, cold. The light of the Trees was hazily visible over the looming peaks. Ringlin itself was a cold, deep lake, glittering with reflected starlight. Celebrimbor and Artanis passed a couple of shuttered houses.
"I'll bet he lives there," Celebrimbor pointed to a lone tower near the eastern shore of the lake, silhouetted against a gap in the mountains there. There was a light visible near the top. "It's been abandoned forever. Used to climb up for the view though."
Someone in the tower whistled shrilly as they approached. The two wolfhounds came bounding out the door heading for the carriage, barking at the top of their lungs. The horses did not like this at all. Celeborn followed hard behind, shouting. The hounds stopped barking and turned back just as Celebrimbor managed to force the nervous horses to a stop.
"Down! Sit!" Celeborn roared at the hounds. They did so, their tongues hanging out and their tails still wagging. He approached the carriage, but Artanis jumped out before he could offer her his arm. "Sorry about them," he looked back at the dogs. "They actually used to be much worse." He cleared his throat and looked back at Artanis. "Er, would you like to come in? I've actually gotten a good roof on it and cleaned the place up a bit."
"We brought a picnic." Celebrimbor lifted the basket. Artanis took it from him as he climbed from the carriage.
"Well, good," said Celeborn, "Although my mother's sent me enough food for an army, and I've been roasting a deer that someone's got to eat, and I rather it wasn't the dogs." The wolfhounds, still sitting, were viewing the picnic basket with great interest. Celeborn helped Celebrimbor unhitch the horses, and set them to graze with his own steed, a big bay mare who ignored the newcomers to her pasture altogether.
"Are you here to do some hunting?" Celeborn asked, as he started cutting off a piece of the deer hanging high over the fire.
"Hah, no, I'm avoiding hunting" Celebrimbor told him.
"Actually," Artanis said, "We came for you." Celeborn looked back at her, dark eyes widening. "My father wants you to come to Tirion with us. He thinks you'll be bored here all by yourself."
"Um, that's very kind of him, but I really have plenty to do here." He looked a little nervous. "But I would very much like to come down there later on, once I've got things sorted out here a bit."
"Don't worry," Celebrimbor assured him kindly, "Everyone's being very dull right now. They're all hunting; not here mind you, it's too cold. Eventually they'll get tired of it and they'll start having parties and dances and that sort of thing. You'll want to come down for that."
Celeborn nodded, looking doubtful.
Artanis sat up suddenly, "Oh, sorry, Celeborn, this is my kinsman, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin. Do you often feed venison to perfect strangers?"
Celebrimbor laughed and Celeborn blushed. "Ah, well, he came in good company, and he was sure to deserve the venison more than the dogs, whoever he is."
This just made Celebrimbor laugh harder. Celeborn seemed a little less tense after the introduction, and they ate as much of the deer and the picnic as they could.
"If you want," Celeborn told them , "You're welcome to stay until morning. The lady Artanis can have my bed, and I've got loads of extra blankets and so forth, so Celebrimbor and I can sleep down here."
"It's not that long a drive," Celebrimbor assured him, getting to his feet. Artanis thought Celeborn looked a little sad at this.
"So, we still have little time before we need to head back," she assured him. He did not smile at this, but seemed a little more cheerful. "I've never been up here," she added. "Perhaps you could show us around."
Celeborn nodded. "I've got something you might want to see," he told Celebrimbor. They walked out along the eastern margin of Ringlin. There was a steep drop on the side away from the lake, and, as Celebrimbor had implied earlier, the view was breathtaking.
"It's hard to see from up above," Celeborn explained. "Here." He stopped near a stand of tall pine trees. At the edge was some sort of platform on a winch-and-pulley system, suspended on huge logs driven into the earth at an angle over the precipice. One end of the rope was tied to a frame from which hung a platform, and the other was tied to one of the pines. Celeborn began to untie the end from the pine tree.
"Wait," croaked Celebrimbor. "You want us to go down the cliff on that?"
"It's a good deal quicker than the switchbacks." Celeborn looked back at him.
Artanis grinned. "It should be fine, but it may take all three of us working on the rope. I hope that platform is lighter than it looks!"
"It is, and the dogs are too scared to come down this way." The dogs had indeed backed away from the contraption and were barking at it.
"Sensible creatures," growled Celebrimbor. However, he quickly forgot his mortal peril as soon as they lowered the platform a few feet and he could see not a cliff face, but stonework. "It's a dam!" He cried out.
"Feanorian work, perhaps? I thought that the eastern margin of Ringlin was too narrow when I first saw it on a map."
As the other two had stopped feeding the rope out to descend, Artanis looked down onto the valley floor below. "So this used to be a river?"
"Hundreds of years ago, going by the age of the trees in that valley." In fact, several of those trees lay felled at the base of the dam below them, with their branches cleared away.
"You've been logging?" Artanis glanced back at her host in perplexity.
He looked back at her, nervous again, "Olwë charged me with putting the road to rights when he made me overlord of the valley. It's been unused for a while, and I've got a lot of bridging and so forth to do."
"So this dam is why there's a road here at all! It runs along the valley floor, doesn't it?" Celebrimbor asked.
Celeborn nodded. The three of them pulled the platform back to the edge of the cliff (which they now knew to be the top of the dam) and they piled out and resecured the rope to the tree. The dogs had been waiting to welcome them back.
"I shall have to ask my grandfather about the dam!" Celebrimbor said, excitedly. "Or perhaps his father. Did they wish to create the road or the lake?"
Artanis and Celebrimbor made their farewells, hitched the horses back to the carriage, and started back down the road. "I wonder who's helping him with the logging?" Celebrimbor wondered.
"He didn't want us to know," Artanis muttered, "Or there was something else about those logs that he was hiding."
"What! He was hiding something? I knew it!" Celebrimbor called the horses to a stop and turned back to her.
"It wasn't that important." Artanis explained. "He was more interested in talking to us. He even wanted us to stay."
"Must have known that we couldn't though, or we'd have uncovered what he's up to!"
Artanis sighed and shook her head. "It's just that... those logs weren't for what he said they were. He felt bad about lying to us even though he wasn't, really. It's probably something really trivial. Maybe he's selling timber or something else the terms of his fief from Olwë don't allow. It's none of our business."
"That whistle, when we arrived, may have been some kind of signal. It couldn't have been for the dogs. They were in the tower with him." Celebrimbor turned the horses around.
Artanis groaned and slumped in her seat. "We just had lunch with him! How evil can he be? He wanted us to visit him; he was happy to see us!"
Celebrimbor urged the horses back uphill. "Look, why did his father disown him? That's pretty serious stuff! How well do you know Celeborn anyway?"
Artanis shook her head. "Look, he... Galadhon's own problems probably had something to do with that. He was a great explorer before he fouled up and got Olwë and the Valar mad at him, and he can't take it out on them... Are you even listening?" They had crested the shore of Ringlin again and the tower was visible in the distance.
"Don't even say it," she warned him. "Yes, I've been sent home by another tutor."
"I wasn't going to say it," he replied mildly, "because it isn't your fault. I'd already heard that the Valar will need Olórin's help for awhile."
"And you believe that?!" She began to stomp up the stairs towards her room.
"Yes, as it happens, I do," he called up after her. "Olórin may only be a Maia, but he seems to understand us better than any of them do, and they feel that they need his council."
An hour later, her mood had improved and she ventured downstairs again. "He did sound sorry to send me away, but perhaps he was just being nice."
This made Finarfin laugh. "My dear, among the things I do not expect Olórin to teach you is excessive tact. He says what he means, a wonderful trait that many people fail to appreciate."
Artanis nearly grumbled to her father that no-one ever liked it when she said what she meant, but there was no point to that, as he would only tell her that tact was not what one said but how one said it. Having bitten that complaint back, she forged on. "I suppose I should go to school here in town, then."
Finarfin shook his head. "I looked into that and was sorely disappointed. They aren't offering any subjects that you haven't mastered, except for some astronomy... No, I didn't think so either. However, there is at least one short-term project that you could take over for me..."
She tried to appear enthused. "Absolutely, what do you need me to do?"
Sitting up a little straighter, Finarfin began carefully, "D'you remember that young man from the race, Celeborn?"
She nodded. "He's a cousin of sorts, isn't he? Why didn't I meet him before?" She asked.
"He's a cousin no more. Olwë let Galadhon have his way and disown the boy. Olwë has granted Celeborn what he must consider a princely gift, the valley east of Ringlin."
"Fëanor... Uncle Fëanor, I mean, has a hunting lodge up there, doesn't he?"
Finarfin leaned back and sighed, "He and a bunch of his hangers-on. It was quite a lively place until last year, when he was exiled and chose to move to Formenos. It's a lot further from Ringlin than Tirion was, and I hear that he, his sons, and his friends have new places to hunt that are somewhat more convenient. Ringlin is deserted and likely to remain so. Therefore, I would like you go, collect Celeborn, and bring him back here."
"Is Celeborn at Ringlin now?"
Finarfin nodded, "The point of the gift was to get him out of Alqualondë and keep him out of Alqualondë, which is done. But the boy's not yet forty years old and has no one to talk to for miles. No occupation, either. There's an old road to the sea there, but from before Alqualondë was built, and no one has used it since. You might as well bring him here and he can idle about with your brothers and cousins, or work here with me. At least he'll have company. Few in Alqualondë ever come to Tirion, and I think Celeborn is too sensible to get into much trouble." Finarfin sighed, undoubtedly thinking of a few of the scrapes he'd pulled Artanis' brothers out of.
Artanis asked, "Has Celebrimbor been to see you? About working?"
Finarfin shook his head, "No, why should he?" Recognizing the distress in her eyes he bent forward, "Artanis, I know you'd like to see him out of that house, but they're his family. If I were to foster him, his grandfather would never forgive him. I've heard Fëanor praise Curufin's and Celebrimbor's skills to the sky even as he disparages the talents of others."
"Like you," Artanis' eyes narrowed, "Or Caranthir."
Finarfin smiled and shook his head again. "It doesn't matter what he says about my smithing, as long as he buys my hammers, tongs, anvils, what-have- you. I'm richer than he by far, because I don't hoard what I make. I've never understood what makes someone want to collect jewels more than, say, nails..."
Artanis quickly bored of the familiar tirade. "So you haven't seen him at all?"
"Celeborn? No, all my news on that front is through your mother. Celebrimbor, however, is in town, briefly, running some errands for his family. I think he'd be enormously pleased if you'd visit with him."
***
Celebrimbor did seem pleased to see her. She'd gone to find him at Finwë's house, otherwise unoccupied since the latter had gone to join Fëanor in exile. "You're dressed for riding," he observed. "Please tell me you're not going hunting, and I'll come with you."
"I'm not, not really. Just going to rescue a wayward kinsman, except he's not, since he's been disowned."
"Right, the Telerin prince... What did he do? We couldn't find that out. You wouldn't believe how little news we get at Formenos. My uncles have charged me to bring back all of the gossip I can find in Tirion."
"Nothing, for all I can tell. You can ask him yourself, if you're coming with."
"We're not riding are we? Let's take my carriage instead. It's much more comfortable and has room for a picnic. Where are we going, anyway? Wasn't he exiled?"
"No, of course not, you know that would be scandalous and my grandfather Olwë hates scandal. Celeborn has been made a baron or something and is lord of some valley near Ringlin. Your family used to go there, so you can be my native guide."
"Oh, I know the one! They've made him lord of that?! No one lives there! He has been exiled." Celebrimbor shouted to the servants to ready the carriage and their picnic.
"I don't think Olwë knows about Ringlin being abandoned."
"Can't tell you what a relief it is to me; it's cold up there. Oh, I'd better get us extra cloaks." Celebrimbor dashed up the stairs, two at a time. Artanis leaned back against the wall and listened to the servants dashing to and fro, shouting orders at each other.
Soon enough, they were driving up into the mountains in Celebrimbor's little open carriage. "Wonderful, isn't it?" he asked her. "The uncles made it for me. Got tired of me grumbling about saddle-sores, I suppose." Artanis merely smiled.
"This is for you," he added, fishing a small box out of his pocket and handing it to her. Artanis opened the box. Starlight glittered within it. She pulled out a bracelet that seemed to be set with little stars, jewels, she realized, that shone with their own clear light.
"This is amazing," she gasped, when she had recovered enough to speak again.
Celebrimbor shook his head sadly, "Grandfather figured out how to make those when he was just a pup. But I figure I've got to master them before I can move on. Don't worry, I'll be able to make you something better before too long."
Artanis thanked him as she put it on. Out here, far from the light of the Trees, the little star-jewels shone brilliantly. "No hope of you coming to Formenos, is there?" Celebrimbor asked.
"None," Artanis told him firmly. "Your grandfather and I do not get on, and you'd probably get into trouble for inviting me."
Celebrimbor changed the subject. "This Celeborn, he ran in the race with you. Won by trickery, Grandfather said."
"He's wrong," Artanis snapped. "Celeborn saw a shortcut that I didn't. That's how he won. But I understand he was held up at the starting point, so I'm not sure that he wouldn't have anyway. I'd like to run against him for real against him someday." Celebrimbor looked away from her and fell silent.
***
Ringlin was only half a day's ride from Tirion, but high into the mountains and, as Celebrimbor had said, cold. The light of the Trees was hazily visible over the looming peaks. Ringlin itself was a cold, deep lake, glittering with reflected starlight. Celebrimbor and Artanis passed a couple of shuttered houses.
"I'll bet he lives there," Celebrimbor pointed to a lone tower near the eastern shore of the lake, silhouetted against a gap in the mountains there. There was a light visible near the top. "It's been abandoned forever. Used to climb up for the view though."
Someone in the tower whistled shrilly as they approached. The two wolfhounds came bounding out the door heading for the carriage, barking at the top of their lungs. The horses did not like this at all. Celeborn followed hard behind, shouting. The hounds stopped barking and turned back just as Celebrimbor managed to force the nervous horses to a stop.
"Down! Sit!" Celeborn roared at the hounds. They did so, their tongues hanging out and their tails still wagging. He approached the carriage, but Artanis jumped out before he could offer her his arm. "Sorry about them," he looked back at the dogs. "They actually used to be much worse." He cleared his throat and looked back at Artanis. "Er, would you like to come in? I've actually gotten a good roof on it and cleaned the place up a bit."
"We brought a picnic." Celebrimbor lifted the basket. Artanis took it from him as he climbed from the carriage.
"Well, good," said Celeborn, "Although my mother's sent me enough food for an army, and I've been roasting a deer that someone's got to eat, and I rather it wasn't the dogs." The wolfhounds, still sitting, were viewing the picnic basket with great interest. Celeborn helped Celebrimbor unhitch the horses, and set them to graze with his own steed, a big bay mare who ignored the newcomers to her pasture altogether.
"Are you here to do some hunting?" Celeborn asked, as he started cutting off a piece of the deer hanging high over the fire.
"Hah, no, I'm avoiding hunting" Celebrimbor told him.
"Actually," Artanis said, "We came for you." Celeborn looked back at her, dark eyes widening. "My father wants you to come to Tirion with us. He thinks you'll be bored here all by yourself."
"Um, that's very kind of him, but I really have plenty to do here." He looked a little nervous. "But I would very much like to come down there later on, once I've got things sorted out here a bit."
"Don't worry," Celebrimbor assured him kindly, "Everyone's being very dull right now. They're all hunting; not here mind you, it's too cold. Eventually they'll get tired of it and they'll start having parties and dances and that sort of thing. You'll want to come down for that."
Celeborn nodded, looking doubtful.
Artanis sat up suddenly, "Oh, sorry, Celeborn, this is my kinsman, Celebrimbor, son of Curufin. Do you often feed venison to perfect strangers?"
Celebrimbor laughed and Celeborn blushed. "Ah, well, he came in good company, and he was sure to deserve the venison more than the dogs, whoever he is."
This just made Celebrimbor laugh harder. Celeborn seemed a little less tense after the introduction, and they ate as much of the deer and the picnic as they could.
"If you want," Celeborn told them , "You're welcome to stay until morning. The lady Artanis can have my bed, and I've got loads of extra blankets and so forth, so Celebrimbor and I can sleep down here."
"It's not that long a drive," Celebrimbor assured him, getting to his feet. Artanis thought Celeborn looked a little sad at this.
"So, we still have little time before we need to head back," she assured him. He did not smile at this, but seemed a little more cheerful. "I've never been up here," she added. "Perhaps you could show us around."
Celeborn nodded. "I've got something you might want to see," he told Celebrimbor. They walked out along the eastern margin of Ringlin. There was a steep drop on the side away from the lake, and, as Celebrimbor had implied earlier, the view was breathtaking.
"It's hard to see from up above," Celeborn explained. "Here." He stopped near a stand of tall pine trees. At the edge was some sort of platform on a winch-and-pulley system, suspended on huge logs driven into the earth at an angle over the precipice. One end of the rope was tied to a frame from which hung a platform, and the other was tied to one of the pines. Celeborn began to untie the end from the pine tree.
"Wait," croaked Celebrimbor. "You want us to go down the cliff on that?"
"It's a good deal quicker than the switchbacks." Celeborn looked back at him.
Artanis grinned. "It should be fine, but it may take all three of us working on the rope. I hope that platform is lighter than it looks!"
"It is, and the dogs are too scared to come down this way." The dogs had indeed backed away from the contraption and were barking at it.
"Sensible creatures," growled Celebrimbor. However, he quickly forgot his mortal peril as soon as they lowered the platform a few feet and he could see not a cliff face, but stonework. "It's a dam!" He cried out.
"Feanorian work, perhaps? I thought that the eastern margin of Ringlin was too narrow when I first saw it on a map."
As the other two had stopped feeding the rope out to descend, Artanis looked down onto the valley floor below. "So this used to be a river?"
"Hundreds of years ago, going by the age of the trees in that valley." In fact, several of those trees lay felled at the base of the dam below them, with their branches cleared away.
"You've been logging?" Artanis glanced back at her host in perplexity.
He looked back at her, nervous again, "Olwë charged me with putting the road to rights when he made me overlord of the valley. It's been unused for a while, and I've got a lot of bridging and so forth to do."
"So this dam is why there's a road here at all! It runs along the valley floor, doesn't it?" Celebrimbor asked.
Celeborn nodded. The three of them pulled the platform back to the edge of the cliff (which they now knew to be the top of the dam) and they piled out and resecured the rope to the tree. The dogs had been waiting to welcome them back.
"I shall have to ask my grandfather about the dam!" Celebrimbor said, excitedly. "Or perhaps his father. Did they wish to create the road or the lake?"
Artanis and Celebrimbor made their farewells, hitched the horses back to the carriage, and started back down the road. "I wonder who's helping him with the logging?" Celebrimbor wondered.
"He didn't want us to know," Artanis muttered, "Or there was something else about those logs that he was hiding."
"What! He was hiding something? I knew it!" Celebrimbor called the horses to a stop and turned back to her.
"It wasn't that important." Artanis explained. "He was more interested in talking to us. He even wanted us to stay."
"Must have known that we couldn't though, or we'd have uncovered what he's up to!"
Artanis sighed and shook her head. "It's just that... those logs weren't for what he said they were. He felt bad about lying to us even though he wasn't, really. It's probably something really trivial. Maybe he's selling timber or something else the terms of his fief from Olwë don't allow. It's none of our business."
"That whistle, when we arrived, may have been some kind of signal. It couldn't have been for the dogs. They were in the tower with him." Celebrimbor turned the horses around.
Artanis groaned and slumped in her seat. "We just had lunch with him! How evil can he be? He wanted us to visit him; he was happy to see us!"
Celebrimbor urged the horses back uphill. "Look, why did his father disown him? That's pretty serious stuff! How well do you know Celeborn anyway?"
Artanis shook her head. "Look, he... Galadhon's own problems probably had something to do with that. He was a great explorer before he fouled up and got Olwë and the Valar mad at him, and he can't take it out on them... Are you even listening?" They had crested the shore of Ringlin again and the tower was visible in the distance.