"...But my heart is still proud. What wrong did the golden house of Finarfin do that I should ask the pardon of the Valar, or be content with an isle in the sea whose native land was Aman the Blessed? Here I am mightier."

"What would you then?" said Celebrimbor.

"I would have trees and grass about me that do not die - here in the land that is mine," she answered. "What has become of the skill of the Eldar?"

And Celebrimbor said: "Where now is the Stone of Earendil? And Enerdhil who made it is gone."

"They have passed over Sea," said Galadriel, "with almost all fair things else. But must then Middle-earth fade and perish for ever?"

"That is its fate, I deem," said Celebrimbor. "But you know that I love you (though you turned to Celeborn of the Trees), and for that love I will do what I can, if haply by my art your grief can be lessened." ...Therefore he took thought, and began a long delicate labour, and so for Galadriel he made his second greatest work, the Elessar.

-from 'The History of Galadriel and Celeborn'

The Unfinished Tales

Chapter Eight: That Which Remains Unspoken

Ost-in-Edhil, 1300, Second Age

Background Music: Xena: Warrior Princess, Volume Four, Track 13 "Welcome to India"

Caffrawen threw her hammer down, not for the first time that season.

There was so much to do, before they could even do anything!

Annatar had set them all to work the moment Celebrimbor consented to allow him to stay within the city, tasking them all with various tools and machinery that seemed to have some vague purpose of which Caffrawen did not currently understand. For the first fifty years, she had been involved with her acid etchings, taking the brunt of the normal workload with the other more junior members of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain. The 'Project', as it was unofficially called, was only known to the members of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, the Lord and Lady of Ost-in-Edhil, Lord Annatar, and (unofficially) to Lady Celebrian.

That left Caffrawen and the other junior Gwaith-i-Mirdain with the task of explaining to the uninitiated smiths why their workload had increased exponentially. They also had to explain to those smiths why they were suddenly pushed to perfect higher levels of skill in a shorter amount of time.

Caffrawen's method of acid etching was proving to be a timesaver for such pressed jewel-smiths, and she had taken on several students in order that the skills might be propagated. Though she'd balked at first at letting other smiths invade the privacy of her workshop on a regular basis, with time she had settled to the task and even begun to enjoy it.

Classes were not only held in Caffrawen's workshop. Though she taught two hours' worth of mineral classification and quantitative analysis in the mornings, and three hours' worth of acid etching in the afternoons, other teachers were asked to take their place.

Maltast led (with varying degrees of quietly expressed enthusiasm on a day-to-day basis) an afternoon class on simple mechanical construction. Erynloth taught a class on alloy production and various methods of casting in the afternoon. Darvi, though much beleaguered by his students to elaborate on his lectures, led a successful class in forging technique. Even Elimani taught, and his afternoon and morning classes on gem-cutting were purported to be highly animated and amusing.

Since the amount of time devoted to classes had to take into account that most students would be involved with crafting their own simple creations or completing tasks to aid production, students could take no more than two classes per year. One topic highly debated in the regular meetings of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain was whether the successful completion of all classes would constitute admission into the brotherhood.

Where before she had once lectured, Caffrawen was finding that it was easier to demonstrate while she was talking to her students, to better hold their attention and to allow them to see the technique that she used. So much of smithing was better learned by doing and seeing than listening! For her quantitative analysis classes, she regularly tested their knowledge by preparing several dishes of unmarked powders and minerals for them to test and classify.

One day of the week saw the entire Smithing Quarter gathered together to view the 'new' inventions and theories of the elder Smiths. As a member of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, Caffrawen was privy to the knowledge that such inventions were decades old, but had been put aside for the crafting of jewels and working of iron.

The one dark spot in the flowering of knowledge and creativity that had come to pass in Ost-in-Edhil was the fact that it could be owed to the always-lingering Lord Annatar. Caffrawen had managed to keep him out of her workshop while her students were present, on the flimsy excuse that his presence distracted them. In reality, her students were well-focused, and it was the teacher distracted by Annatar's presence.

He attended all meetings of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, with the understanding that it was a matter of complete secrecy. Annatar's attendance had been hotly debated in the brotherhood, but in the end, it was Celebrimbor who had final say.

Annatar continually set her on edge with his mere presence, those roving dark eyes making her uneasy and uncertain at meetings. He continually sat at Celebrimbor's side, rarely taking the floor to speak, but always murmuring something to her cousin that would have him speaking out minutes later.

Still, Annatar had done nothing out of line in the years since he had first arrived at Ost-in-Edhil. He remained a model citizen, and had taken up quarters in the eastern wing of the city. Caffrawen avoided him as best she could and made certain that Celebrimbor always heard the opinion of the rest of the brotherhood when they were home together - or else he didn't get his supper.

Between the teaching, the crafting, and the relationship with her cousin that had become more diplomatic than filial, Caffrawen had precious little time to spar with Elimani as they used to. Much of their time together was now spent discussing classes rather than gossip or ideas. Actually, as head scribe, Elimani had been working overtime for years to transcribe the various notes produced by zealous smiths that wrote notes as badly as they turned out new inventions quickly.

When Celebrimbor had suggested to Elimani that a good answer to the requests for extended manuscripts made by students, other smiths, and other interested parties would be to create several tomes of each, Caffrawen witnessed an overstressed side to Elimani that she'd never before seen. Luckily for Celebrimbor, she'd been standing next to Elimani at the time and was able to restrain him from strangling the Master Archival of Ost-in-Edhil, later taking him out to a tavern for a night of wine to soothe the scribe's nerves.

She also neglected to tell Elimani that she'd been planning her own manuals on mineral classification and analysis.

To answer the problem, Elimani had turned not to increased manpower, but to mechanics. While the name 'impression maker' did not quite suit the ingenious contraption, it was fast on its way to becoming the answer to Elimani's problems.

Caffrawen was currently engaged in a tedious task for the completion of Elimani's impression maker, but it was a task that she would trust to no other. Not for the first time, she wondered why the region of Eregion steadfastly kept in use the Angerthas Moria*, when the rest of the world used Tengwar* script. Since she needed to make about three hundred copies of each rune or letter, this added up to twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred individual letters that she had to craft to be used as 'stamps' on the impression maker. This number did not include the hundreds of tehtar* that Maltast had crafted for the Tengwar script.

Unsurprisingly, she had turned to casting from pre-set molds to finish the job. Fortunately, the 'stamps' were small in size, so on a good day, she could complete about a hundred of them. Finervenn and Agladir had also been enlisted to help her with this monumental task. Though it had taken them about a year, all three were in the finishing stages of the letters and runes.

Caffrawen was finishing the final fifty 'ure'* that were needed from the Tengwar script, while Agladir and Finervenn were completing the final one hundred '&' from the Angerthas Moria runes.

It was only that the final 'ure' had come out crooked. Which led to her current frustration with her hammer. She was so close...there was no way she was recasting this last one!

Grasping her tongs, she snatched up the final print and thrust it back into the flames, watching carefully for the telltale signs that it was ready to be re-hammered into submission.

Judging it ready, she began to tap firmly on the recalcitrant piece of metal. When it was finally in the appropriate cube shape, she thrust it into the cooling trough, listening to the satisfying hiss of steam as her last print was completed.

Setting it down to allow it to cool further beside its mates, Caffrawen dipped a rag into the cooling trough, wringing it out and using it to wipe her sweating face. She held it against her forehead a moment, savoring the coolness, then dipped it once more into the trough and placing it around the back of her neck.

"Lady Caffrawen?" The greeting came from the doorway. She knew who it was, and spoke before turning her head to her guest.

"What can I do for you, Tarvi?" she said, breaking into a slow grin as she turned around.

"I am at your service," the son of Darvi said, substituting a small nod of the head for a doffed hood or helmet. Caffrawen composed her face and stood to face him. Tarvi was still young enough to hold to decorum and proper manners with the tenaciousness of a dog on a piece of rawhide*.

"I am at yours and your family's," she replied, completing the proscribed Dwarvish greetings. She noted that the Dwarf immediately relaxed his rigid posture, his blue eyes twinkling. Tarvi was currently one of her best students in her mineral classification and quantitative analysis class, the best, if she was honest with herself. Attempting to teach a Dwarf about minerals was like attempting to teach an Elf to walk on snow - redundant.

"That is good to know," he said, smiling, "For I am in need of it."

"Don't tell me you have a question," she said, grinning. "Not my best student!"

"Not about minerals, that is for certain," Tarvi retorted, enjoying the repartee. "About Lord Annatar."

Caffrawen immediately sobered. "What has he done?" she asked gravely.

"It's not what he's done, it's what he wants to do. He's been getting on to Master Celebrimbor and the Lord and Lady about taking a trip down to the Dwarrowdelf."

"Whyever would he do that? And why is he asking the Master and the Lord and Lady? Surely he knows that such things fall under your father's jurisdiction." Caffrawen was perplexed.

"No one knows the why. But they do know that the Master wants him to ask my father, and the Lord and Lady are all for him just leaving to go down to the Dwarrowdelf and ask for himself."

"Do you know where Master Celebrimbor is right now?" she asked, beginning to feel uneasy.

"They...er...my father and Master Celebrimbor went to a tavern to talk things over," Tarvi said a bit embarrassed.

"We won't see them till past midnight," she confirmed, giving the young Dwarf a knowing wink.

"And Lord Annatar?" she pressed.

"After he left council with Master Celebrimbor and the Lord and Lady, I thought he went back towards his quarters. Father told me to report back to him who had been to the Lord and Lady's, and for what purpose," Tarvi related.

"I take it you are acquainted with the Lady Celebrian and her spy-chamber?" she asked him dryly, registering his surprise. When he started to sputter she raised a hand to halt his protestations.

"Lady Celebrian and I watched the first meeting between Lord Annatar and the Lord and Lady before you were born," she said by way of explanation. "I would not reveal to your father or Master Celebrimbor your knowledge of Celebrian's spy-chamber. Or the Lord and Lady, for that matter."

Tarvi drew himself up a bit indignantly. "Both the Lady Celebrian and I were highly interested in what was said at that meeting, so I agreed to keep the secret. I have not yet even told my father of the content of the council, and I do not intend to, since the Master is undoubtedly filling him in as we speak."

"So why did you come to me?" Caffrawen asked shrewdly.

"The Lady Celebrian thought that if I was to tell anyone, it should be you. Probably because you already knew about the spy-chamber," Tarvi finished.

"Indeed. So what passed between them?"

"A very roundabout conversation. Lord Annatar asked the permission of the Lord and Lady to visit the Dwarrowdelf. They granted it with no hesitance. Master Celebrimbor halted them, saying that the matter was under the jurisdiction of my father. Lord Celeborn pointed out that my father was chief liaison of the Dwarves to Ost-in-Edhil, and therefore had no say in the matter. Master Celebrimbor wished my father to at least be apprised of Lord Annatar's intentions. Lord Celeborn pointed out that once Lord Annatar was beyond the borders of Eregion, he was free to do as he liked, until he came to the Gates of the Dwarrowdelf, when he would have to beg entrance as much as any stranger. Master Celebrimbor wanted my father to at least know about and send along an authorization and blessing as someone who could vouch for him. Lord Celeborn pointed out that the Dwarves were capable of determining this by themselves, and the decision wasn't my father's. Then...it just kept going in circles, until Annatar spoke up, saying that his trip was not that vitally important to warrant such disharmony between the leaders of the city and its craftmaster. He only wanted to know if he could."

Caffrawen nodded, digesting this. "Did Lord Annatar or Lady Galadriel speak much during this debate?"

"Hardly at all, Lady." Tarvi paused, looking most uncomfortable. Dwarves did not usually engage in such intrigues, preferring open, honest, direct forms of communication with one another. "The Lady Celebrian asked me to tell you that she believes Lord Annatar never intended to go to the Dwarrowdelf in the first place, and that she and her mother both are uneasy."

Caffrawen allowed herself an ironic smile. "These times are uneasy for us all."

"What do I do now, Lady Caffrawen? Master Celebrimbor is undoubtedly telling my father all that I heard, so my information is useless to him," Tarvi asked.

"To him, perhaps, but quite valuable to me. I will speak to the Master later on, make certain that the Gw-the other smiths have a say in this matter," she stated, unnerved at the fact that she'd almost let slip the fact of the hidden brotherhood to this uninitiated smith.

"In the meantime, just keep this information to yourself. And don't forget to...escort...Lord Darvi home later tonight, in the same fashion that I will Master Celebrimbor," she said amusedly.

"Indeed," Tarvi said, his eyes twinkling once more. "Since I have no further questions about where best to find sulfur deposits, I shall take my leave of you and wish you a glad afternoon."

"A glad afternoon to you, Tarvi," she returned. "You have my gratitude for pointing out the additional locations."

When Darvi had left, Caffrawen was left alone with her thoughts. This is a tangled mess! Since when was permission needed to go to Dwarrowdelf?

Was that it? Celebrian had mentioned that she did not think Annatar had ever intentioned to go to Dwarrowdelf. Was Annatar sowing discord between the normally harmonious leaders of Ost-in-Edhil? Granted, the relationship between Celebrimbor and Celeborn was strained for a reason that she could not fathom, but they normally worked for the betterment of their peoples.

But why would Celebrimbor insist on Darvi being consulted? Celeborn had the right of it, Darvi was a liaison of the Dwarves to Ost-in-Edhil, a good person to consult before journeying to the Dwarrowdelf, but not essential. Galadriel and Celeborn were the ones to ask if one wanted to journey beyond Eregion. She set that problem aside for the moment, and decided to present the situation to Elimani, and gain his insight. If Maltast and Agladir were there as well, so much the better.

Scooping her cooled 'ure' stamps into a reinforced rucksack, she walked out of the workshop, but not without securely locking the door. One could never be too careful these days.

* * *

Background Music: Xena: Warrior Princess, Volume One, Track 15 'Goodbye'

The shrieking of metal and Elimani's curses met her ears long before she made it to the door of his workshop.

Entering without invitation, Caffrawen looked with admiration at the impression maker that Elimani was currently bent over and fiddling with. A long wooden table formed the base of the construction, with a tall wooden frame rising from either side at its center. A wide metal screw was secured at the top of the frame to hang downwards, where it had been joined at its end to a large counterbalancing weight. This weight, in turn, was attached to a removable metal frame that would hang from the weight in a parallel fashion to the table above which it was centered*.

"Where's the problem?" she asked casually, observing him with amusement.

Elimani gave a start, then turned his head back to glare at her. "This!" he cried, pointing at the lever, which was supposed to raise and lower the metal frame from the screw. "Damned thing stopped working an hour ago, and I can't get it to budge an inch."

Caffrawen gave the joint of the lever an appraising look. "Have you tried Darvi's new joint-grease? That stuff would make ice look sticky in comparison."

"Darvi has a new joint-grease?" Elimani looked a bit surprised at the information.

"He introduced it briefly at last week's gathering. I think you were in here."

"Where else have I been for the past few years?" Elimani spat. Caffrawen looked more closely at him, observing his condition. The circles under his eyes spoke of little sleep, even for so sleepless a creature as an Elf. His normally shining black hair was shinier than usual - due to grease, and not the type he needed for his machine.

"I've some in my workshop, I'll bring it directly," she reassured him, sensing his dark mood, and wondering how long it had hung over him. "But first, there's something imp...something serious going on between the Lord and Lady and Celebrimbor."

To her dismay, he looked even more annoyed. "Spit it out, then."

"Annatar's causing trouble. He first said that he wanted to go down to the Dwarrowdelf, and wanted the permission of Darvi and the Lord and Lady. The Lord and Lady bid him go at once, and Celebrimbor asked that Darvi be consulted first. Celeborn said that Annatar did not need Darvi's permission or blessing to leave. They argued these points until Annatar said that the trip was not so necessary, and that he merely wanted to know if it was possible," she said in a rush.

"So?" he said, clearly more interested in the impression maker.

"So...how much would you wager that Annatar never intended to go to the Dwarrowdelf? Why is Celebrimbor suddenly all for the Dwarves being consulted before anyone goes from here to the Dwarrowdelf? Why the sudden tension between tension between Celebrimbor and Celeborn, and why does Annatar want to further it?"

"I could answer your last question, but I won't. Are you certain you're not beginning to see things where they aren't?"

Elimani's diffident manner was beginning to anger her, and she allowed it to show.

"Perhaps if you moved from this room once a month, you'd notice what's happening around you. Aren't you the tiniest bit unnerved by Annatar's rise in influence?"

"Perhaps if you started working on one of his projects instead of trying to undermine him all the time, you'd see the benefits we're reaping!" Elimani was openly angry, putting down the tool that he had unknowingly been gripping.

"If it's escaped your notice, I've been keeping up with the normal commissions and the teachings and helping you with this blasted impression maker." With more force than was necessary she swung the bag of 'ure's into his open hands, catching him in the stomach.

"Perhaps if you'd lost someone or something you cared about to Sauron, you'd realize why I work as I do. But no, your family destroyed itself without any help from Sauron or his minions!"

Caffrawen flinched visibly.

That hurt. Especially coming from one who regarded her bloodline as harmless. She wanted to flare at him, but this cut too deeply. Too late, she realized that it was showing on her face, and masked it in an icy glaze of composure.

"There are the last of your Tengwar letters. If you need Darvi's joint-grease, I suggest you ask Maltast for some," she said quietly. Turning her back to him, she left the workshop in a fouler mood that she had entered it with.

* * *

Her mood was not improved later that night, when she realized that she still needed to escort her cousin home from whichever tavern he had landed himself in. Celebrimbor was no sot, like so many Elves, he enjoyed rousing evenings full of song and wine. She might have even joined him, had her mood not been so dark.

Caffrawen entered The Holly Bush tavern, knowing that it was one of her cousin's favorite establishments, and that their red wines were exceptionally potent. A quick glance about the place revealed none but two Dwarves well into their mugs, and a few scattered Elves marking the lateness of the hour with songs. The interior of the tavern was clean, despite its long use, festooned year-round with holly branches and blazing fires.

Catching the eye of the tavern's owner, Glilam*, she ambled over towards the bess who was currently engaged in sealing a barrel of Dwarvish ale.

"Evening, Caffrawen!" she said brightly. "Come to try my best whites?"

"Morning, actually," she replied, "And no, unfortunately. Has my cousin been in at all tonight?"

"Over there, by the fire," the bustling bess replied, pointing out Celebrimbor's dark shape in a corner. "Poor dear, Darvi left an hour ago, and he's just sat there ever since."

"Did they argue?" she asked quietly.

"Them? Not at all, I've never seen them exchange unfriendly words except when teasing each other," Glilam replied, pushing back her pretty brunette hair from where it had escaped the braid in back.

"Ah. Thank you, then, and I'll be back sometime to try those whites," Caffrawen promised, her attention already elsewhere.

She approached Celebrimbor, observing him carefully. The slump of his shoulders spoke of some inner grief or burden, and Caffrawen hated to see him in such a state. He was still wearing the formal tunic he had worn to hold council with the Lord and Lady, and his fingers were laced together in his lap, his demeanor oddly quiet and depressive. Most times when he drank, he became more lighthearted and carefree, able to forget about the stresses of his daily life.

Caffrawen knelt at his feet, attempting to look up into the shadows of his face. "Celebrimbor?" she whispered.

He blinked, and flickered his eyes towards her.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked gently, taking one of his hands.

"I suppose," he replied, attempting to heave himself to his feet. He swayed, and Caffrawen was immediately there, supporting him with an arm around his waist. He steadied himself against her, and Caffrawen nodded to Glilam as they left.

* * *

Background Music: Xena: Warrior Princess, Volume One, Track 28 "Bloodlust"

He was uncharacteristically quiet as they stumbled home, head hanging and feet dragging somewhat.

No one was out and about on the streets of Ost-in-Edhil that late into the night besides the usual guard making his patrol, so they were able to get home relatively unhampered. Caffrawen pushed open the door and pulled him into his own room, guiding him to sit on his bed.

Motherly, she brushed the hair from his face, passing her hand over his brow and half-expecting him to push her hand away. He did not, but leaned into the gentle touch, drowsy and clearly exhausted.

"Celebrimbor?" she asked quietly, "Are you alright?"

"Just tired," he replied.

"You don't look okay. You look as if someone's smashed the Elessar."

Celebrimbor smiled crookedly at that, and to her great surprise, his face crumpled with the onset of tears.

"Cousin?" Caffrawen was halfway between horror and terror - she had never seen Celebrimbor weep before, and could only imagine what warranted such a reaction. "What is it?"

He shook his head wordlessly, involved with his tears. Caffrawen gingerly guided his face to rest in the crook of her shoulder, and stroked his copper hair as he released whatever sorrows had multiplied over the course of the evening.

They stayed in that position for many moments, until the heaves of Celebrimbor's chest slowed. Pulling the dampened locks of hair away from his face, she used the corner of his bedsheet to dry his face.

"What troubles you, my cousin?" she asked. "Tell me so that we may set it right."

"It is naught that I can act upon...and it will never let me go."

Caffrawen studied his face carefully. "What will not let you go?"

"Desire!" he choked out. "The desire that shakes and drives all members of our family...the desire for something that cannot and should not be attained."

"But you are rectifying our family's misdeeds," she said fervently, "That cannot be evil."

"Nay, nay. Were certain things different, this would be the grandest of all things...for then I would be certain of her forgiveness."

"Whose forgiveness? Is it forgiveness that you so desire so?" she questioned softly.

"No! I desire her love! And I can never have it!" Celebrimbor heaved a breath, as if the conversation was drawing all the strength out of him.

And suddenly she knew, and wondered why she had not connected the pieces before.

"The Lady Galadriel?" Caffrawen whispered.

Celebrimbor's head bowed in confirmation.

Caffrawen found that she suddenly had nothing to say. Moments passed, and Celebrimbor spoke in a low, urgent tone, betraying the depths of his feelings.

"When she took me in as I wandered, I thought it only gratitude that I looked up to her so. Very soon, I found that gratitude had little to do with it, and that looking upon her was beginning and end of my day. All, all I have worked was not to rectify our family's misdeeds...for that I am sorry, Caffrawen, but our efforts will do much to help that...it was so that, even married and with a child*, she might always look upon me with favor...see me first as her loyal and trusted friend, and not as some Feanorian miscreant she took in out of pity.

"Before I started making the Elessar, she complained that the House of Finarfin had committed no wrongs that warranted her having to beg the Valar's pardon. She wished to stay in Middle-earth...yet the continual death that occurs here disheartened her. I...I confessed my love of her, for I could sympathize with her predicament...about the Houses, I mean. I promised her the Elessar, to make her life here more pleasant, more steady. I wanted to help her create her domain...her paradise."

Caffrawen was shocked at this candid outburst from her cousin. His purpose in life up till now she had thought was redemption...instead it was a hopeless love. He wanted Galadriel to equate him with her 'paradise' as it were.

"Why has this come to a head on today of all days?" she pressed further, smoothing his hair back behind the points of his ears.

"Annatar wanted to go down to the Dwarrowdelf...but he believed that such things needed leave from the smithing community and the leaders of the city. Cel...Celeborn just wants him out of the city...and would preempt Darvi's authority. Celeborn is trying to divide the Dwarves from the Elves!" he burst out.

Caffrawen nodded, several questions she had had that day getting their answers. "But Darvi has no authority in this case...only Celeborn and Galadriel may grant such leave. After all, they rule Eregion. But what has this to do with your love for the Lady Galadriel?"

"The Smiths rule in Eregion! Unofficially, but we do shape the fate of this city...and of Middle-Earth. I love her...oh! but I love her, and I do not wish to displease her in this matter. She must understand that the Smiths are the ones working in the best interests of Middle-Earth. Celeborn only hinders us in our aim, would divide us among ourselves," he continued, pausing for breath.

"It came to a head today because I have realized that she will follow Celeborn's lead in the matter of the Smithing Quarter's authority...and thus thinks me disloyal for wanting to subvert Celeborn's authority. I will never have her favor," he said morosely, long past tears.

"You have her favor, Celebrimbor. What did she say when you spoke of this to her?"

"She said little, save that she remarked to Celeborn that it might be expedient for Darvi to write a recommendation, though the final decision was hers and Celeborn's," he said hopefully.

Caffrawen nodded supportively. "Celebrimbor, listen to me. You have the Lady's favor, and her love as far as it can extend. But she is bonded to another, and one day, another will occupy the pedestal upon which Galadriel reigns."

He drew a deep sigh, accepting the inevitable truth of her words.

"What was it that Annatar wanted to go down to the Dwarrowdelf for?" she asked, attempting to confirm her suspicions.

Celebrimbor opened his mouth, then shut it with a perplexed look. "I can't rightly remember."

Nodding acceptance of this, she turned down the bedcovers, pulling off his boots as he lifted his legs onto the bed.

"Take off that jerkin," she ordered, "You'll sleep better without it."

He did so, handing the stiff leather garment to her, which she folded and draped over a chair. Pulling up the bedcovers, wondering how she had gotten to be such a mother hen, she sat down on the bed next to his drowsing form.

"You're taking tomorrow off. I don't care what you've got planned, you can't keep drinking this off, even if the inimitable Darvi is your drinking companion. Go for a ride outside Ost-in-Edhil, spend the day sleeping, I don't care. But under no circumstances do you approach the Smithing Quarter, understood?"

"Yes, m'lady," he said, wine not doing a thing to dull his sense of irony.

"Good. Sleep well, I'll have the hangover herbs on your nightstand when you wake up." She kissed his brow, then watched protectively as he fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

Background Music: Xena:Warrior Princess, Volume Six, Track 7 "Reality of Dreams"

Caffrawen was all set to follow her cousin's example, setting the clarifying hangover draught on her cousin's nightstand, then stretched out her muscles and retired to her own room.

As she entered, she spied a sheaf of paper laid atop her nightstand. Looking about uneasily, she glanced down to read the print...when she realized that it was, indeed, print! The letters were too uniform and thick to have come from a pen, and she realized that it was the work of Elimani, perhaps the first true printing he had made from the impression maker.

Heart thrumming rather faster than it should have, she read the printed script*.

Caffrawen -

I do not know why I said what I did this afternoon, but I am sorry that I did so. My anger was not for you, but for circumstances beyond my control.

Please forgive me, so that this impression maker will not be put solely to the use of writing my pleas of apology. That is all it seems good for at the moment.

Elimani

"Caffra?" Elimani's voice startled her before she'd even had time to react to the contents of the letter. He was at the window, and had clearly waited for her to arrive. The lines on his face and the circles about his eyes were still present, but she could tell that he'd taken the time to bathe and put on fresh clothes.

"Elimani?" Later she reflected that if he had simply left the letter on her table instead of waiting for her to read it, she might not have forgiven him so easily. But upon reading the print letters and seeing the sincerity in his eyes, she could not help but bite back the insult she'd planned to lay upon him when next they met.

"My first press-print," he said quietly, indicating the sheaf of light parchment in her hands. "What do you think?"

She met his eyes with her own. "I think it's beautiful." He dropped his eyes then, searching the ground for she knew not what.

"Can we talk?"

She nodded briefly. "Give me a hand out the window. We'll wake up Celebrimbor if we stay here." She could have simply walked around through the front door, and banging pots together for all that Celebrimbor was likely to waken. Yet there was something in the way that his ink-stained hands closed over her own, in the way he gently disengaged one hand to grasp her waist as he pulled her from the open pane.

There was something in the momentary silence after she had regained her feet that spoke of trust and feelings renewed by the action.

Elimani was the first to break it, taking a step back.

"I think the roof would suit our purposes," she said quietly, noting his demeanor and taking it into account as she showed him the crooks and nooks within the walls that allowed them to swing up gracefully onto the slate roof. Walking with ease on the slanted part of the roof, they settled themselves on the apex, tilting slightly so that they might see the other's face. It was a warm summer's night with no breeze to chill them.

From their vantage point, Caffrawen could look out and see the dark forms of the Misty Mountains, rising in blue-black to contrast with the darkness of the night sky. It was not a clear night, clouds obscured many stars, but there was light enough for the Elves to see by, and the stars they could see were beautiful.

She risked a glance at Elimani. He was also rapt in admiration of the stars, and of the nocturnal atmosphere.

"Something is wrong, Elimani. You've not been yourself, and I know it is not only that the impression maker has occupied your thoughts. "

He smiled at her ruefully, then looked past her to the south. "Perhaps I might have heeded your information with more care three months ago. But since then, I have been trying...trying to help set things right in Middle-earth, and I can't help but think that Annatar is our key. We have improved so much in the brief time he has been here...doing things that might have otherwise taken us centuries to even think of. What that will do for the defenses, and for these rings of power he's got planned, I don't know. But he's done nothing but help us since he got here."

"My loyalty is given to Celebrimbor, not Annatar. Yet if Celebrimbor chooses to follow Annatar's advice, I will follow Celebrimbor to the death," she responded. "Perhaps I still cling to my first impression of him fifty years ago. First impressions are the hardest to make good on."

"Believe me, I found that out while trying to make the letter for you. I think I should soak a sponge in ink, then let the press be lowered onto that, instead of attempting to brush the ink on by hand."

Caffrawen gave him a small smile for his cleverness. "But that's not it. What changed three months ago?"

Elimani seemed to shrink in on himself, his lean frame crumpling a bit. "Elimani?"

He drew a breath and exhaled loudly. "I received a missive three months ago from my mother on the border villages. Apparently, they'd been attacked by a band of orc...my father tried to help defend...he was gravely injured. To save him, Mother took him to Lindon...across the Sea. They could not wait for me to accompany him. I know not if Father survived the voyage, or..." he trailed off, and Caffrawen's heart clenched for the stoniness of his face that spoke of his anguish.

"Elimani..." she let his name trail off into a whisper, so taken aback was she.

For the second time that night, she scooted close to a suffering benn, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder and her arm to wrap securely around his waist as they sat there, undisturbed.

After some time, she touched her fingertips to his cheeks in the same intimate gesture she had used with Celebrimbor, but they came back dry.

"The time for tears is past," Elimani murmured quietly, "the time for action is now upon us."

"I think I understand now," Caffrawen replied in the same murmur, "I think I understand."

"Do you?" he whispered, readjusting his cheek on her shoulder so that his nose brushed the point where neck met collarbone. She automatically put a hand up to stroke his hair, quite forgetting the awkwardness that would have accompanied the gesture at any other time.

"I'm so sorry, Elimani," she whispered back. "But why didn't you say anything?"

He paused, considering. "I wanted no one to pity me...I wanted no one to coddle me and murmur inanities when the reality of the situation is that I have no way of knowing if my parents live."

"You could do with a bit of coddling," she replied, "although I won't fill your ears with those inanities. I don't pity you." She paused thoughtfully. "Except when I beat you in the first five minutes of a quarterstaff sparring match."

She felt him laugh, his chest moving as if in sobs against her, and began to chuckle herself.

"Rest," Caffrawen murmured, "and take tomorrow off from duties. I am, and I'm forcing Celebrimbor to do the same. One day off in this madcap Smithing craze won't hurt anything, and I wager it will do us a wealth of good."

He was silent a long time, and Caffrawen prepared herself for a string of protests. Instead, she was surprised to find him reaching for her hand, surprised to find him pulling her into a proper hug.

"Thank you, Caffra. I'm so sorry about that slur on you family. I had no right..."

"Hush," she murmured into his hair, "it was accepted some time ago."

She allowed the hug to continue for some time longer, then tried to gently pull away from him when the embrace continued past the bonds of friendship. "Elimani?"

A soft snore greeted her. Caffrawen sighed. Moving as gently as possible, she maneuvered his head into her lap. He'd probably not gotten a good night's rest in several months, she wasn't about to deny him this comfort.

Instead, she watched the night fade and pass into the early morning, watched the stars that she could see travel across the sky, watched the gradual lightening of the world as the sun rose. She remembered the first time she had seen the proud city of Ost-in-Edhil, realizing the sight was nearly the same as the one she had witnessed nearly half a millennia hence. She watched the guards on their paces across the walls of Ost-in-Edhil, watched the face of her friend as he lay comfortably in her lap, watched the lines on his face relax and the dark circles beneath his eyes lighten.

She had held the two benn closest to her in her arms that night, and heard their worst secrets and insecurities, had realized their reasons for pushing the march of technology through the Smith's Quarter.

Now it came to it; would she follow Annatar? Celebrimbor thought so, Elimani thought so. Yet their true reasons for following Annatar prevented them from seeing what she had. She could not so easily stop watching Annatar through half-narrowed eyes, not stop continually wondering about his motives.

She would follow Celebrimbor, to her death if need be. If following Celebrimbor meant following Annatar, so be it.

As long as she was able to keep an eye on Annatar while behind Celebrimbor, she was content.

* * *

*I'm aware that Caffra's a bit soppy in this chapter. Bonds must be forged so that they will hold true, any Smith could tell you that.

* The Angerthas Moria was the 'alphabet' of Elvish runes used exclusively by the Elves of Eregion and the Dwarves of that area? Why? Well, it's kind of like the difference between the customary and metric systems of measurement in our world. See Appendix E in the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

*Tengwar was the 'Feanorian' alphabet created by Feanor, Celebrimbor's grandfather. It was the more widely used writing system. See Appendix E

*Tehtar are the little dots above the script of Tengwar that indicate vowel sounds. This means that the Tengwar letters are all consonants. Customarily in Tengwar, the tehtar are placed above the following consonant. So if we wanted to write 'Elimani' in Tengwar, a tehta would be placed above letter 27 to make the 'El' sound. The written form of Elvish is phonetic, and, to me at least, highly confusing.

* 'Ure' is the Elvish word for heat, used as the name for letter 36, means 'heat'. Feanor gave the letters names other than phonetic sounds.

*For more information of Dwarvish mannerisms and proper greetings, see The Hobbit.

*I've modeled Elimani's 'impression maker' (printing press) after Gutenberg's original. I do believe the Elves are going through a Renaissance!

*Glilam means 'honey-tongue' or 'a sweet-talker'

*In some instances, Celeborn and Galadriel had a second child, a son named Amroth. Legolas sings of him in the 'Lay of Nimrodel' as Nimrodel's star-crossed lover. For reasons of simplicity, I have chosen to forget about Amroth, and let him chase Nimrodel eternally rather than mire him in my tale.

*I'm not certain, but I don't think that Elves had both capital and lowercase letters. I'm using both in the letter rather than having poor Caffra run back and cast another couple hundred printing stamps.

Canon Deviations

*Did the Elves attain such technology as a printing press during Annatar's revolutionary influence? I don't know, but it would be a logical step for Elimani the scribe.

*I'm leaving out Amroth from the storyline just because it's easier, and because not every tale includes him. I love the Professor, but he certainly changed his mind a lot.

*No debates such as the one between Celeborn and Celebrimbor were recorded, but the wedge must have been driven in at some point. I'm just hypothesizing.

No hearts were broken or epiphanies reached during the writing of this chapter. However, several Elves woke up with wicked hangovers.