Your skepticism is justified. But lacking full clarity does not induce, nor justify an action. Nor has it ever. But yes, even advances by those of noble intention are not immune from unintended consequences, whether from lack of foresight or external manipulation.
Alice Otherlands: Leviathan.
"Just a little longer and I'm finished for today."
He let out a soft sigh.
Were the elf more observant, free of his emotions, he would sense exasperation in the Maia, but Celebrimbor did not notice anything, all captured by his inspiration.
According to the shadows, he had spent hours posing for the elf. Bored, he began to follow the movements of Celebrimbor's brush with his gaze.
He loves what he does.
The elf had brought him into one of the secluded silent yards, where the other smiths from the Gwaith-i-Mirdain could not bother them. And where Celebrimbor intended to work on his painting before sculpting the statue of Annatar in marble.
Not that he desired his own statue of marble; he never measured vanity in useless objects, but he did want to please the elf, who's favour he sought.
If only to lull any suspicions of you, my dear master-smith, I indulge you in this nonsense you call "art".
Still, he admitted that Celebrimbor had inherited an outstanding skill in crafts. He was even glad that Gil-galad and Elrond refused his offer. The jewelsmiths from the Gwaith-i-Mirdain tended to preserve the traditions from Valinor in their works. And their leader truly shone above them, so his eyes rejoiced when every tiny thing, every trifle here reflected his home.
jewel
smiths
jewel
The idea came to his mind absolutely unexpected, out of nowhere. Some small objects, jewelry it was.
Medallions, bracelets, rings? Rings, the tiniest of all.
Rings imbued with power and distributed among the worthiest representatives of the Elven race.
Together they would assist him in repairing the damage dealt to Arda during the age of Angband. They would create a new Arda and a new order. A right order. And he would come back, redeemed by the glory of their deeds. Finally he would come home.
And Celebrimbor would help him.
The elf raised his gaze to look at him once more and he met it with a gentle smile.
"I love how the light falls on your body. It makes your skin glow. And this pose of yours is chaste and yet sensual. You look... unearthly, Annatar." Flush covered the elf's cheekbones as he had said this, as if he was taken by surprise by his own words. "Please forgive me, I did not mean anything of...of any kind," he whispered and his gaze returned back to the parchment.
Inwardly he snorted at these words, trying to keep his face serene.
So, it used to be Galadriel, then… me? You think too much of yourself, my dear Celebrimbor. I cannot be the second after someone. Will never be the second. Moreover, you are just an elf.
Nonetheless, as a hunter he sensed in an instant the weakness he could prey on. He could serve the elf's secret desires, he could pull that string of the other one's feelings to his benefits. Perhaps, someday he would need to press on the elf. Or use him as a tol in his sport. That he could not decide yet.
"I did not intend to embarrass you, my friend. Please forgive me if I did. I'm finished and I appreciate your patience." Celebrimbor lay his brush aside and stood up.
He shifted as well, abandoning the pose the elf had asked him to take, looking for his elvish tunique.
"You sound as if it was you having to stand naked and still for quite a while, and not me. No need to worry, master-smith." He made certain that the elf's eyes found his own. None of the Children could withstand the power of his gaze, be it stern or soft; and he was aware of it and used it to his advantage. This time he let it fall soft and coaxing, the elf would not refuse him.
"Also I have something to tell you. I require your help."
It was dark and the lights in the houses began to fall one by one as they sat before the smithy. He waited for the elf's "good night" but Celebrimbor tarried with their parting. At last, Celebrimbor turned his head to him.
"Would you tell me about your plan again?"
He did not turn his head to Celebrimbor.
With patience he began to repeat it once more, now with other words.
"The power inside these Rings will enhance the abilities of their owners and we can induce it to restore Arda. But beware, it could be induced by evi…"
yourself
He choked on his own words.
"So choose wisely." The last words came out too hard. The impression he intended to create might have been spoilt. Disappointed and displeased by himself he fell silent.
And then Celebrimbor took his hand and squeezed it gently, their fingers entwined.
"What is this that troubles you, my friend? Share your ailments with me and I might help."
And then he could not resist a deadly weakness of mind. He imagined how out of the most hidden recesses of his being he brought a locked box with trust, hope and his heart. He fetched the key. He inserted the key into the lock.
Let him take it. Let me be at peace.
"There is a gaping emptiness deep within my very self, Celebrimbor. And nothing in the world can fill it."
As soon as he said it, a familiar shade emerged out of his emptiness as if his words served as an incantation. The clot of dark inside his head pulsed, even pounded. The realisation that he almost made a mistake struck him. Instead of turning the key, he tossed it to the shade and it hungrily devoured it. Shuddering, he wrenched his hand out of Celebrimbor's grasp.
"Forgive me. That is not what I intended to say. I talk nonsense. I am weary after posing for you for that long, my friend. Please allow me to depart for the night time."
He stood up and walked towards his quarters.
"But Annatar, wait…"
This time the words were said. This time it was too late.
When he entered his room, he did not light the lamp. Instead, he just sat on the bed, peering into the darkness and listening to the silence. He had to make the right decision, here and now. He had to listen to the clot of dark matter in his head.
To take the Rings was the only way, the only cure for this nightmare. He would steal them all. If only he had his swift wargs at his disposal... otherwise he would also have to steal a horse to flee to the East. And the elves on their steeds would chase him and imprison him. Why would they not? Slay him, skin him, torture him. His skin burst with searing pain as if he had already been experiencing thisl. Anger and helplessness overwhelmed him. And it were elves, who's fault it was, he hated them for that. Lying, disgusting, untrustworthy creatures.
No chance. There must be another option.
He would depart to the East without the Rings, without chase but with Celebrimbor's consent. And then return. With his armies. With his arms. And take the Rings by force.
by blood if needed
And then he would slay them, skin them, torture them. For what they had done to him.
What have they done to me?
nothing all
Just need to tell Celebrimbor not to give them out in my absence.
lest he cheats me a lying disgusting untrustworthy creature
So be it.
"You pay for your grandfather sins. For blood you pay with blood. "
They ended in the same yard as before. But this time it was Celebrimbor "posing" for him on an improvised rake. Instead of drawing pictures they had played a game, "a warg and his prey'. Celebrimbor tried on the role of the prey and having found the game tiring he deserved a bit of rest.
we both deserve it my jaw aches and tomorrow it will ache even more biting someone like you is a hard work and i did well just look where your fingers are
Suddenly the elf who had almost passed out, wheezed, spat blood out of his mouth and then his broken lips twitched, forming words.
"You are insane."
"What?"
But he got no answer. The elf was taken by a wild cough, that turned into the death rattle and he shook with his whole body. And then Celebrimbor simply dared to die, defying his will, ruining his plans. The whereabouts of the Three remained unknown; Celebrimbor did manage to cheat him eventually.
He extended his arm forward, closing the sight of the dead body before him. The Ring on his finger glistened merrily on the sun.
What do we do now?
we move forward to our goal
He looked at the elf.
"Forgive me, my friend. I will require your services for a couple of days still. My bannerman is an orc with considerable stamina. He would not mind the stench of your rotting and the pole is long."
It was time to give orders and he had already dallied for quite a while.
Yet at the archway he halted. Without looking back he asked the corpse.
"By the way, Celebrimbor. Where is the statue?"