Letters
Celebrimbor never pretended to be good at talking, at making himself heard.
He was quiet, awkward, preferring to express himself through his craftsmanship, by making beautiful things that made people smile.
But there were so many things he always wanted to say, but never got the chance to.
Hence the letters.
"Why are you always writing letters?" Celegorm inquired irritably one morning as Celebrimbor was at his desk again, filling a piece of parchment with hasty handwriting.
"Do you have so much to say?" he asked again, as his nephew did not respond.
Celebrimbor still did not answer.
He was busy, writing a letter to Nerdanel, telling her what he was up to, what he enjoyed, what he disliked, telling the grandmother he never met that he loved her anyway.
He had never gotten to meet most of his family.
Celebrimbor was starving for family.
He had met his father's half-cousin, Turgon, and his own second cousin, Idril. He lived with his father and uncle, in the kingdom of Finrod, their half-cousin, and sometimes they saw Galadriel, Finrod's little sister.
He liked to pretend that the rest of his family were just away for a short while, and that he would see them again soon, even though he knew he would never see them, at least here, in Middle Earth.
He liked to pretend that he had promised to write every day, and he would keep his promise, writing letters and sending them away on the water or the wind, waiting for replies that would never come.
I just feel so bad for the poor guy...*sob*...