Crucible of Madness
Doriath: 15th Chapter
"But his soul was mad.
Being alone in the wilderness, it had looked within itself and,
by heavens I tell you, it had gone mad."
– Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
Author's note: Please be aware that this chapter contains violence and rough language. On a different note, this is the longest chapter of this story and quite possibly my favorite; so many important things are happening here.
Also, I'm so glad this psycho exam week is over! Now I can write more plus I am only one semester away from my Master's degree! Thank you to everyone who took the time to review! I really appreciate it. And, thank you to everyone who is reading this story! If you have time, I really appreciate any comments, questions, or feedback. Happy reading!
"Not thinking of how you wish to run away are you?" The voice came from behind her and Artanis turned to see, to her great surprise, that it was Celebrimbor who stood behind her wearing not his customary oilskin apron nor any of the soot that typically stained his hands, but a brocade tunic of royal blue and black linen leggings.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you so casual," she remarked with a grin and a glance at his bare feet.
"Yes well," he laughed, hands clasped behind his back, "that never seemed to sit well with you so I am trying something new."
"Are you?" She laughed as he seated himself beside her on the knoll overlooking the forest below. It was autumn now and the trees were colored in an array of golds, oranges, and reds as if they were aflame. They were silent for a little while, watching the slowly setting sun with smiles on their faces, basking in its glow. And it was nice, she mused, to not feel so terribly alone for once.
"Look," Celebrimbor said, turning to her, "I am sorry about all of this, about everything that happened to you. I understand, Artanis, believe me. I too thought to come here only because I wished to see this earth, because I wanted to work with metals that no one had ever seen before, discover jewels heretofore unknown, new elements…and then it all seemed like some wretched, horrible, ruined dream when I saw the blood spilled upon the docks. I did not want this any more than you did, and I know the pain that you feel: that the deeds of another have marred your future. You know I did not raise my sword that day." A century earlier she might have stopped him from speaking any further but she listened now, for his words seemed a healing balm to her troubled soul.
"And I know that my father, and Celegorm, and Caranthir have done terrible things. It is as if their minds are twisted and warped – sick, evil. That day in Alqualonde…I lost my family that day, though it was not to death. But know this: that my kinship with them does not equate with compliance. I despise them. I have publicly spoken against them and I will continue to do so, to condemn the things they have done." It was true; he had, and what was more, he meant it with all his heart. It was always something she had respected about Celebrimbor. How strange, she thought, that he and Celeborn, who were truly so very different, were alike in that one very important regard. It nearly brought a smile to her lips, but Celebrimbor's solemnity caused her to refrain.
"But I am sorry, for all of it. If there was any way, anything further that I ought to have done, or could have done, but did not do, if any of this evil is of my doing in your eyes then I beg your forgiveness with all my heart. For it pains me beyond measure to know that your dreams, such as they were, have been dashed and you hopes smothered because of some evil that was the doing of my kinsmen. There is none who deserves to have the evil my uncles worked thrust upon them, but even less do you deserve it, who have always showed kindness, leniency, and understanding to all, even to me, who is so very undeserving. I would wish for you only happiness, even if I play no part in it." And by the tears gathering in his eyes and the heartfelt tone in his voice she knew he was sincere.
"Celebrimbor," she said, her heart moved, taking his hand and clasping it tightly, "I do not blame you and well do I know that you have condemned the actions of your father. More than that, I pity you in my heart, for Curufin has indeed gone mad and though he may still live in body, I mourn you the loss of your father. Therefore, do not think that I am angered that you have come here to Nargothrond or that I hold some grudge against you, for recently I find that the pain I have suffered has softened my heart and given me new understanding. What is more, I am glad that you have come here, for it seems to me that there is not one amongst the Noldor, or Sindar, or even amongst my own brothers, who so fully understands what has happened and its affect on me."
They were silent then and Celebrimbor interlaced his fingers with hers, the two of them watching as the setting sun glowed red as a hot coal, dying the surrounding forest and fields of golden grain in its light.
"What were you thinking when I came upon you?" He asked her softly.
"Only how beautiful it is, this earth," she replied with a sigh, wrapping her arms around her legs as she drew them up to her chest.
"It is, isn't it," he remarked with a smile, surveying the horizon and the burning of the setting sun against the rim of the world and then he turned towards her. "It looks well on you, the Elessar."
"I rather think so myself," she said, glancing down and laughing.
"Does it make you happy after all?" He asked her and she looked at him for a moment, her blue eyes meeting his dark ones, and nodded.
"It does," she replied softly. "Recently I begin to think that all is not lost, that I can still do something worthwhile in this world." They looked out towards the horizon again. "When you build your kingdom," Artanis said, "what will it be like?"
"Hmph," Celebrimbor grunted as he lay back in the tall grass with his arms crossed behind his head. "I will go east of the mountains," he told her and she laughed.
"Of course you will."
"There is a land there called Hollin and it is filled with holly plants of all varieties, with red berries, and black, and even some of gold, or so it has said. There are clear streams and a wealth of forests and many gentle knolls of verdant grass. And I will build a magnificent palace there."
"How magnificent?" She asked, as though she doubted him, but she was laughing, for this reminded her of how they had used to talk as children and things that once seemed no more possible than fairy tales now held the promise of actuality.
"It will be like a palace of Aman," he laughed, "here in Middle Earth, only grander." And he began to trace figures in the sky. She smiled, remembering how they did, after all, share the same dream. "With streets paved in diamond dust that glimmer in the light of both the moon and the sun and doors of crystal engraved with the most beautiful scenes," he continued. "The walls will be inlaid with gold and amber. In the courtyards there will be fountains inlaid with mother of pearl and the palace itself shall be an oasis for all, elves and dwarves. It will be," and he sat up, "the most magnificent palace you have ever seen. But," he reached out, tilting her chin so that she was looking at him, "it will all look as insignificant as dust next to the splendor that is you." Ah, she recalled, he has never been any less than bold.
Artanis felt her breath catch in her throat and, the next thing she knew, Celebrimbor had brought his lips to hers, kissing her softly at first, then deeply, and, to her great surprise, she let him. It was not that same feeling as when Celeborn had kissed her, that yearning hunger gnawing at the pit of her stomach, that power within her begging to be unleashed. Instead, it was a calm and gentle feeling, as though this moment itself were enough, as though she were content as she was now, and would forever be.
And her heart was greatly troubled thereafter, when she lay abed that night, trying to find some measure of rest. But her mind was racing. She had never thought that there was a possibility of happiness with Celebrimbor but now she could see that there was; there was the possibility of quiet happiness, of calm, of peace and well-being. She held the Elessar up, watching as it cast its summery light about the darkness of her chambers, green, like leaves, like Celeborn's eyes, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
The gates of the fortress of Himlad creaked open but, even before they had entered, a strange foreboding about the place washed over Celeborn. Perhaps it was just that this particular region had always been somewhat desolate, or perhaps it was the imposing and somewhat severe architecture of the castle, for it did not blend into nature as Menegroth did, rather, it seemed to stand in spite of it, as though it had conquered the earth and beaten it into submission, but whatever the reason, it was with no small amount of trepidation that Celeborn first set foot in the looming entrance hall.
He looked down at the polished marble floor to see his own face eerily staring back at him, but diminished, like a ghost, or a reflection upon a pond. It was a very black place that even his Sindarin eyesight struggled to penetrate and some sparse light shone in the form of plain oil soaked torches that lined the long row of iron columns, their flames flickering weakly. It was less a palace for comfort than a fortress for war. But then again, the Feanorians were at war he supposed, so perhaps it was not so unusual that their palaces would be so different from Sindarin ones.
"State your business," the guard demanded but they said nothing and showed no signs of acknowledgement for he had spoken not in Sindarin, but in Quenya and the guard, assuming that they did not understand, then repeated himself in Sindarin.
"Prince Celeborn of Doriath and the Crown Princess Luthien of the same. We have come to speak with Lord Curufin if he would be gracious enough to grant us an audience, for our King has business with him." Celeborn replied, a bit put off by the terseness of the guards, though he did his best to not allow it to show.
"Wait here," the guard said before stalking off and while he was gone a different set of guards approached them, searching their clothes and divesting them of any weapons that they were carrying. A very strange policy among elves, Celeborn thought, that was unless Curufin expected elf to attack elf. It would have been exceedingly peculiar indeed, had they not known of the kinslaying, but, in light of that information, they now understood his paranoia. Celeborn turned to glance at Luthien and saw confusion upon her face. It seemed he was not the only one who was uncomfortable. This was no way to greet royalty.
"By the Valar you Sindar travel heavily armed!" The guard laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood, having sensed their discomfort. His Sindarin was poor, probably as he never spoke it, but Celeborn was grateful for his effort at levity, even as he began to wonder whether or not Thingol's decree was so wise. For if the Noldor could hardly speak Sindarin then it was almost certain that they would ignore the King's decree and, rather than enforcing Thingol's sovereignty, it would almost certainly sow seeds of discord. People would not learn an entirely new language for a king they did not know and for whom they bore no love.
"Yes well, old habits die hard I suppose." Celeborn replied with an awkward, tight smile. It was then that the first guard returned.
"The Lord Curufin will grant you an audience," he said with a bow, "though he begs that you if you will visit in the future, you have the courtesy to send messengers ahead of you. Our Lord is occupied at the moment but if you do not mind waiting a short while then he will be happy to see you shortly."
"That would be agreeable," Luthien replied. "But only the Prince and I need speak with him. Is there some place where our guards might wait to pass the time?"
"Of course my Lady, they are welcome to sit with our own guards if it pleases them and the horses shall be stabled for your convenience."
"My thanks," the princess replied and the guard beckoned them to follow him. They soon passed from the entryway into some sort of main chamber that was larger still but it was the same sort of architecture, dark and foreboding, iron and obsidian. Though the ceilings were high there was some sort of claustrophobic feel about the place that set them ill at ease, almost as if they were being squeezed as in a fist. At last they came to some sort of a small antechamber and this too had polished black marble floors but there were no more iron pillars here. Instead, the walls were lined with wooden chairs that were built into the wall itself. Very tall and narrow they were, with canopy-like overhangs and thin black cushions. It was all very dismal looking, so very severe.
"If you would be so kind as to wait here Lord Curufin will be with you shortly," the guard said, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Luthien said, perplexed, "will you leave us no light?" For, indeed, the only light in the entire room was the torch that the guard carried.
"I am sorry," he said, looking very much as though he truly meant it, but the greater part of his heart seemed given over to fear and, quickly, he bowed his way out the door. "I have been instructed not to light any lamps in this room." And then he was gone, leaving them in pitch darkness.
"No light?" Luthien exclaimed. "And what if they were to simply leave us here? I could never find my way back through all of those horrid tunnels in this darkness! Is this their idea of some sort of perverted joke? What did Artanis say about this one, Curufin? I cannot recall." Celeborn could hear her searching about for the chairs. He searched as well, slowly moving towards the wall, and at last they found them, though they were perhaps no better off for it, seeing how terribly uncomfortable they were.
"I do not like this. I do not like this at all Celeborn. These guards are so very frightened, though whether it is of us or of something else I do not know. There is something very wrong here," she said. "I feel as though my entire body were inundated with some great evil." Yet Luthien's voice did not quake with fear, for she knew fear not at all, nor ever had, and instead her voice was lit with anger.
Celeborn, however, felt near sick with fear and he said; "there is indeed. I find that this place sickens me." In his heart he was worried for his guards, for he knew not now what would happened to them while he and Luthien were gone. Many of them had served under him for a very long time and he would be loathe to betray his brothers in arms to harm. "For our safety and theirs we should not have entered without the guards," he said, growing frustrated with himself. "It was very foolish."
"You cannot think…" Luthien began, leaving her sentence unfinished. "But I am the High-princess of Beleriand and you the prince, surely not…"
But they were not sure what to think, and that was entirely the problem, Celeborn thought, his heart pounding in his chest. They knew these elves had slain their kin, but they were yet unaccustomed to the mindset of such elves. "I feel very stupid now for having left them," he said, his heart pounding in his chest. A queer sort of anxiety began to overtake his heart and he began to both bless and curse himself for having begged Thingol to send him from Menegroth, for he was certainly no longer devoid of all emotion, indeed, he was full of it at this moment, but the emotions racing through him now were of the very worst sort.
Minutes turned to hours and the hours seemed interminable. Celeborn reached out to take his cousin's hand in the darkness, more for his comfort than hers. "I curse myself now for allowing them to take my weapons," he said.
"Do not be afraid," Luthien replied in a firm voice, "for there is Maian blood running through my veins and you, you do not need a weapon to tear an orc limb from limb. Curufin son of Feanor will rue the day that he showed such disrespect to the Sindar!" And both of them would have left immediately if they had not been concerned that their disobedience might endanger the lives of their guards. "Celeborn," she turned to her cousin in the dark, "you must not strike him unless our very lives are in peril, for it would be an act of open war for a Sindarin prince to strike a Noldorin one."
"I know," Celeborn said grimly and he did not rebuke Luthien for having thought he would act rashly; indeed, the idea had already crossed his mind that he should very much like to strike Curufin.
They could not be sure of the time that passed while they were in that room but it seemed very long indeed. Sometimes they sat and, when they grew tired of sitting in the rock hard chairs, they stood and paced about in the darkness. Celeborn could feel the anger boiling within him for he was certain that this was indeed a deliberate act of rudeness and he only wondered what further unpleasant things lay in store for them.
"A short time he said!" Luthien scoffed, "this has been anything but!" She was right, but Celeborn allowed her to go on talking by herself for he did not trust himself to speak any further now, lest he explode with rage.
"Let us go! We will leave on our own!" He said finally, springing to his feet, unable to bear the tension any longer. "This was a fool's errand!" But, at that moment the door finally creaked open again and a guard entered.
"The Lord Curufin will see you now," he said stiffly before leading them into what must be Curufin's throne room. Celeborn immediately felt a searing, white-hot pain lance through his eyes and raised a hand to cover them, startled for a moment before he realize that the temporary blindness was an effect of the transition from a pitch black room to one blazing with light. It was much the same way he had felt on that first day that the sun had risen and, in his heart, he wondered if Finrod, his former friend, the only one in which he had confided his fear of the rising sun, had betrayed him to the son of Feanor. Slowly, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes to squint at the room around him, blinking rapidly as his eyes struggled to focus. It seemed as though everything were moving slowly, as if underwater.
"Mae Govannen Celeborn Galadhonian, Luthien Thingoliel!" Curufin said. He was a tall elf with a remarkably handsome angular face in which were set glittering brown eyes. His hair was chestnut brown, long and braided, the braids ornamented with golden clasps, and his robes were of red velvet, exquisitely embroidered with the emblem of his father's house. Celeborn felt a flare of anger surge through him for, though Curufin had greeted him in Sindarin, the accent had been terribly wrong and forced. This was obviously not because Curufin could not say it correctly, but because he was mocking them, making a parody of their mother-tongue and, in turn, of them.
"Come! Come out into the light! Don't worry, you won't melt!" The Noldo laughed, throwing himself onto his throne. "You can stand there," he gestured to the area before the throne and they moved there obediently, still too disoriented by the light to protest. They were vaguely aware of courtiers standing about the walls of the room, almost as though they wished they could disappear into the stone.
"You know," Curufin turned to the guard who stood on his right, "there are these little blind fishes that live in caves. Hideous creatures." He chuckled and then his head snapped back to his guests. Celeborn felt the pit of his stomach sink even lower, if that were possible, for though he had only observed the Feanorian's behavior for a few brief moments, already he was certain that he was in the den of a madman.
"What is it? Whatever is the matter?" Asked Curufin with mock concern as he sat up straight and turned towards them. "I was only trying to welcome you in a way fit to your culture. Do you not love the darkness, you Moriquendi? Twilight elves." He laughed. "Are you not pleased that I have seen to your needs?" And, as much as Celeborn wanted to spit at him and rebuke him for calling them Moriquendi, Curufin was speaking now in Quenya and he could not acknowledge it.
"What is the matter with them?" Curufin asked his guard after a pregnant pause. "Are they deaf or merely stupid? Can they not speak a proper language? This girl in particular is the daughter of a Maia is she not? How can she be so uneducated?"
The guard merely shook his head and said, "I do not believe they speak Quenya my Lord. For they seemed only to understand Sindarin earlier."
"What is the matter with you?" Curufin asked now in Sindarin and Celeborn raised his head.
"Us? There is nothing the matter with us! It is you who have left us sitting in a dark chamber for half the day! Have you no courtesy?" He said, eyes flashing, and almost immediately regretted having spoken his mind, for it was almost certainly what Curufin had wanted to provoke him to do. He had wanted to say something more diplomatic but Curufin had tried his anger most sorely.
"Ah! The Moriquendi temper!" Curufin clapped his hands gleefully. "I was told about you Celeborn. I was told of your sharp tongue. Ha! And they call you the wise. I did not know it was in jest."
"You have been most ungracious," Luthien said with a hint of politeness, though her tone was unusually somber. "And we have come here as emissaries of Thingol to discuss important business." She struggled to maintain her decorum when, in reality, all that she wanted to do was lash out as Celeborn had done, but Luthien was of a cooler mind and that was a blessing now.
"My oh my! How flattering that I should be graced with royal guests of the house of Thingol!" Curufin sneered. "Indeed, it is for the first time. Your king seems content with his Finarfinian lapdogs but not ONCE had he given a son of Feanor, eldest son of Finwe, the courtesy, no the decency, the respect of a royal visit!" The words hung uncomfortably in the air and Celeborn recalled how Artanis had once told him of the terrible jealously of the Feanorians when Angrod and Aegnor had first returned from Menegroth, bearing Thingol's messages, how they had spoken harsh words to her brothers, envious that the children of Finwe's third son had been granted an audience while they, children of Feanor, had been denied that courtesy.
"Well you are not the only ones with important business. I have important business as well! There are many questions that I am wanting an answer to. Let us all discuss our important business together then!" He settled back on his throne, a smile twisting itself across his face, and said; "now, I have heard that all Moriquendi males are hung like horses. Is this true?" Luthien was at a loss for words, staring blankly at Curufin, hardly daring to believe that he had asked her such a thing, to voice such impropriety out loud, and in front of others no less. It was hardly something one would consider saying in private, much less in a royal court.
"I…I…would not know." She replied at last, unable to think of anything else to say. The thought that he would dare say something of that nature…it was unthinkable. She glanced at Celeborn to see the shock upon his face and suddenly had a very foul premonition of where this conversation was directed. Curufin had not welcomed them as guests at all, instead, it seemed that they were there purely for his perverse entertainment.
"A lovely thing like you doesn't know?" Curufin asked, stepping forward as if to touch her face before drawing back suddenly. Luthien stared at him defiantly. "I find that hard to believe. I heard that your kind do not hold with the laws of Illuvatar nor with the customs of the eldar and, instead, breed at random, like dogs, without bonds of marriage. I have even heard that your sort inbreed. Little backwards forest elves. Is that true? Have you fucked your cousin Celeborn here?"
"Lord Curufin!" Luthien began, anger getting the best of her now at last, overcoming her shock. "I would remind you to whom you are speaking!"
"Or perhaps it is the Maian part of you that causes you to wait, hold out for more noble blood. If only Celegorm were here…he would like to show a pretty girl like you a thing or two." He grinned sadistically. The Noldo was predictable only in his malice but his temperament itself was mercurial. At one second he seemed jovial and confident, at the next unreasonably angry.
"But then, even the best families have their bad apples. Tell me," he said, turning swiftly to Celeborn, "You were the one who courted my cousin Artanis, or so I have heard. How was she when you fucked her? I have always wondered. I bet she likes just about anything you could dream of, the filthiest things you could dream of. She is SUCH a…filthy…whore." And, to his great surprise, Celeborn felt a wellspring of anger rising in him at Curufin's words. Thingol might condemn Artanis, and Oropher, and even himself, but their intentions were not ill; he would be damned to Mandos and back before he would allow someone so unworthy, so foul, so cruel-hearted speak about her in such a fashion. And what was more, Artanis could never have been called a paragon of virtue, certainly, for she had made many poor choices, yet he found himself enraged that of all of the things that Curufin could have accused her of, he had managed to reduce her to her mere sexuality. Luthien's hand reached out to touch Celeborn's arm, willing him to keep control of himself. She could feel him trembling.
"You have no right to speak against her, you who have slain your own kin. She may have slain kin as well, but she has not allowed the evil of her actions to warp her heart!" Celeborn hissed, against his better judgment.
"Ah, so you do still have feelings for her…" Curufin sounded gleeful. "Do you love her, Celeborn? Do you love a slayer of kin, a liar?" He laughed. "You have been trying so very hard, haven't you, to pretend that it was nothing, that she is nothing…and you almost convinced yourself that it was so, didn't you? Yes…it hurts doesn't it, Celeborn? Well…I know that pain too. I am, after all, a son of Feanor and I could not stop loving my father, even after what he did to me, what he made me swear to. I know that anger…I know your anger. You cannot hide it, not from me."
Celeborn felt Luthien's nails digging into his arm as though he were one of her disobedient hounds that she was seeking to discipline, but his anger was burning hot within and it completely overruled his better judgment. "Shut your mouth, Noldo," he spat, "how dare you speak to my cousin in such a fashion? How dare you speak about your own kinswoman in such a way?" But Curufin paid him no mind.
"You do know that she has parted her legs for half of Valinor do you not? Or…did you think you were her first? You, a Moriquendi!" He laughed. "How far she must have fallen, to have landed on your cock. I guess you are the sort of man who is content with the used garbage that is tossed his way. At least you could have been of some use. A bruised eye or two would have fixed that smart mouth of hers."
Celeborn wanted nothing more than to plunge a sword through Curufin at that very moment and if he had one he very well might have tried. At the least, he wanted to berate him for his words, yet the Feanorian had spoken to him in Quenya just now, doubtlessly to try to provoke a response, to prove that he did understand Quenya after all, and it was only his love for Thingol, who had trusted him and entrusted him with this mission, that staid his tongue in that moment.
"Do you not know that, even now, my son is in Nargothrond courting her?" Curufin spat. "She is not worthy of him, filth like her, as if her being half Teleri wasn't bad enough she was defiled by you, tainted." He glanced at them with suspicion.
"I know that both of you understand me and I do not appreciate whatever game it is that you are playing at," Curufin said then in Sindarin.
"Lord Curufin, I regret to inform you that we have had some very disturbing news from the Lady Artanis that pertains to you." Celeborn said, struggling to keep his voice calm even as his hands were clenched in fists behind his back. It took all of the strength he could muster not to choke the life out of the Noldo right there.
"Do you think I do not already know? Do you think I have not had word from Nargothrond?" Curufin shouted, his anger sudden, and fear began to creep into the back of Celeborn's mind. Curufin had killed before, massacred the Teleri, what was there now to prevent him from sending Luthien and himself on an unplanned journey to Mandos's halls? He was clearly not sane.
"We have heard of the massacre that you and your brothers as well as Fingolfin's men perpetrated upon the Teleri at Alqualonde." Celeborn continued and Curufin began to laugh maniacally as the Sinda spoke.
"Massacre!" Curufin brought this hand slamming down upon the arm of his throne as if he had just heard the most amusing joke. "It was like slaughtering babes in their beds! They were so much weaker than the Noldor! Third born…nelyar!They never guessed what we had planned, never understood what was happening, even as they died upon our blades! Fools lust for death and so it was death I gave them!" He laughed raucously. "Am I not a benevolent god? Massacre you say! That was a work of art! You should have seen it…you should have seen what I did."
He approached until his face was a mere hair's breadth from Celeborn's, his voice sinking to a whisper. "Everything was silver and red, everywhere silver hair and red blood. You would not have believed how beautiful it was…" The blade of a knife flashed and a gasp rose up from those assembled there. Curufin was holding a long lock of silver hair in his hand, freshly shorn from Celeborn's head. It was a sign of massive disrespect, to cut hair from another elf's head, a punishment reserved for the worst of prisoners.
Curufin stepped away laughing, flipping the knife up into the air and catching it. "Forgive me…I simply couldn't resist." He said with a wide grin, holding up the lock of hair. "It brings back such pleasant memories." With the knife he cut his own thumb, applying pressure until the blood ran down the lock of hair like beads, staining it red. It seemed to bring him an almost orgasmic pleasure. For a moment Celeborn considered fleeing, but he knew they would not make it far. Curufin returned to his throne, slouching lazily in it, and toyed with the lock of hair.
"I think I'll keep this," he said, "to remind me of you, and to remind you of what I shall do with you if I ever meet you again. Perhaps it will provide me some amusement."
"I am so BORED!" He shouted suddenly. "All of you bore me!" The courtiers along the walls shrunk back, frightened of him.
"What can stir my heart now? What can excite me?" Curufin sighed as though this were some great tragedy. "My masterpiece has already been finished."
"Come now my little darkies," he said, kicking at the floor, "tell me something else to entertain me."
"In response to your actions, my father has banned the use of Quenya in his realm and commands that none of his subjects will listen to it or speak it." Luthien said, holding her head high. "He commands that you respect his wishes."
"He…commands…me?" Curufin pointed to himself with a look of pure incredulity. "Your backwards, cave-dwelling, fool of a king presumes to command me?" His voice was quiet now, friendly almost, and this made Celeborn all the more frightened of him.
Curufin smiled, a twisted smile and clapped his hands. "Your attention please! Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please! Let us have a demonstration, shall we? This…princess…of the grey elves presumes to give his commands in my halls to my people. Well, let us all see which of us holds the power here!" And with that he turned, surveying those who stood in his court.
"Paniel, come here." Curufin said in Quenya and all eyes shifted towards a young Sindarin elf with flaxen hair, practically an elfling, wearing the uniform of a maid. She could have been no more than 25 years old. The blond maid cast her head down, pretending not to hear Curufin's words. Celeborn felt himself overwhelmed by nausea and now he wished most ardently that he had held his tongue earlier than that this girl should suffer because of the anger that he had incited.
"Paniel," Curufin repeated yet the girl showed no signs of acknowledging him. "She is one of your people is she not?" The Noldo looked at Celeborn and Luthien. "Let us have a demonstration then, let us demonstrate what will happen to all of those who obey Thingol's decrees over mine.
"Stop!" Luthin said, stepping forward, but Curufin pointed his sword at her. He strode over and grabbed the terrified elf maid by the arm, dragging her before his throne.
"You will kneel Paniel," he commanded, but the girl did nothing. With a face as calm as the empty sea, Curufin raised his sword and brought the heavy pommel crashing down upon the girl's head. She let out a shriek of pain and collapsed to the floor under the weight of the blow, weeping. Blood flowed freely from her head. "Stand up!" Curufin shouted but she did not rise. He kicked hard, the steel toe of his boot slamming into her jaw and this time she choked instead of shrieking, blood pouring from her mouth as she struggled to crawl away.
"You will stop," Celeborn said, striding forward and grabbing Curufin's arm. His brow was furrowed and his eyes furious, his face barely an inch from Curufin's. The Noldo moved to strike him but Celeborn held his arm fast; he was stronger than the Feanorian. "You will stop now and we will go." He said. "We will take this girl with us."
"I could kill you right now Sinda," Curufin whispered, his eyes like a snake's.
"Then I will be eagerly waiting for you in Mandos's halls." Celeborn ground out from between gritted teeth, hoping beyond hope that Curufin would not do something as suicidal as to kill the prince of Doriath in his own throne room and thereby bring certain war upon himself.
"Do you think that you are so superior to me?" Curufin whispered so that only Celeborn could hear. "Do you think yourself pure because you have not spilled elven blood? I was like you once, righteous, just. But that line is not so thin as you would like to think and…once you have crossed it…oh, once you have crossed it there is no going back and not because you cannot, no, it is because you do not want to. Do not lie to me, Celeborn. Do not lie to yourself. You want to kill me and you would if given the chance. You too would slay elves."
And the Noldo's words shook Celeborn's heart to its core, for it seemed as though the elf lord had read, in the matter of the moment, all of his thoughts of the past few years, as if he knew the atrocities that Celeborn had committed in his mind, as if he knew that unforgiveable thing that he had done. "We are leaving now." He managed to gasp the words out somehow.
And though his words had no power in them, it seemed that Luthien crackled with it as she stepped forward to stand between her cousin and the mad king, her body clothed in blue flame, her eyes gone completely white, her dark hair writhing like a mass of snakes. "You will be silent and you will raise a hand in anger to no one," the princess hissed and the voice with which she spoke was unfamiliar, deeper than a man's and otherworldly, as if it came from some void beyond time or space.
Like a spoiled child, the Noldo seemed to back down at those words, smiling and laughing as he swaggered away, though he seemed quite shaken, and his people flattened themselves against the walls, trembling in fear. "Fine, get out." He said. Celeborn turned away but kept one eye on the dark haired Noldo as Luthien scrambled to pick up Paniel from the floor. But, as they rushed towards the exit, the door opened of its own accord to admit another of Feanor's sons.
"Celegorm!" He heard Curufin call. "How glad I am that you have returned!"
"Keep moving," he whispered to Luthien and they did, out the door past Celegorm and into the maze of hallways. And yet as they went Celegorm's eyes remained fixed upon Luthien, lit with a sudden dark fervor. But the two Sinda paid him no heed in their rush to escape and, behind them, Celeborn could hear Curufin speaking to Celegorm and he heard the two of them laugh. Paniel could hardly stand and so Celeborn took her arm from Luthien's shoulder and picked her up, carrying her like a babe.
"Which way is it?" He asked frantically.
"Wait!" Luthien paused and then whistled a simple tune, a nightingale's song. She listened intently then to something, he knew not what, and then pointed to their right. "It is this way!" They moved, pausing every now and then for Luthien to repeat her whistle and indicate which direction to move in, until at last they were back in the entryway, practically running down the aisle of iron columns. Celeborn had feared that they would not be allowed to leave yet, as they approached the doors swung open and they stumbled out into a veritable blizzard to find that their guards and horses were exactly where they had left them.
"My Lord! My Lady!" The guards stumbled forward on stiff legs, concern clearly written across their faces. "We feared for your lives!"
"Did they not shelter you?" Celeborn asked, irate, for he could see how cold all of them were and ice was crusted in the manes of the horses. His guards unanimously shook their heads no. "Come, let us ride, and swiftly." He said, taking his weapons back from his soldiers. They rode hard for an hour and then stopped so that Luthien might check on Paniel's condition. The girl was still unconscious but she was breathing. One of the female guards who was skilled in healing helped Luthien get the girl down from the horse and, while they saw to Paniel, Glindir, the leader of Celeborn's guards led his horse over to the prince so that he might speak with him.
"Your highness, might I ask what occurred in that place? You were gone nearly eight hours! I was on the verge of sending scouts back to Thingol to raise an army." The warden's quick grey eyes were concerned.
"That is a house of horrors," was all that Celeborn managed to say. "But let us not speak of this here. Once we return to Menegroth I shall tell you the tale in full, for it is the sort of tale that one only wishes to tell once. Only now we must concentrate on returning to Thingol as soon as we can. Glindir, you have my most sincere thanks for your service," he said, placing his hand on the warden's shoulder. "I am sorry if I have put you in any danger."
"Of course my Lord. It is always an honor to serve you and to serve Doriath," Glindir replied, but grave concern still haunted his eyes.
"For the sake of the Valar!" Luthien exclaimed as she opened Paniel's mouth. "Her jaw is broken but I believe it can be repaired." The others moved over to watch her more closely as she reached gently into the girl's mouth and pulled out a handful of broken teeth. "One, two, three, four…She has five missing…She must have swallowed the fifth…or else it was lost upon the floor." She moved her hands to the girl's scalp, parting the hair there so that she might better see the wound. "This is not as bad as it could have been," she said. "She will suffer from a severe concussion no doubt, but there will be no lasting damage so long as infection does not set in." She held her hands over the wound and whispered words of healing. "We must get her back to Menegroth as soon as possible and we must inform my father of all that has passed." Her unflinching grey eyes met Celeborn's green ones.
The soldiers loaded the injured girl onto a horse but Celeborn stayed, squatting on the ground for a moment and Luthien bent to touch his arm. "What is it?" She whispered quietly.
"It was as if he knew all of my thoughts," Celeborn said in a strangled whisper, "as though he could read my very heart and mind like an open book. He knew what I have done. He knew my feelings better than I did. Somehow he knew."
"That is impossible," Luthien said firmly. "He knew that you loved Artanis once. It would not be so difficult for anyone to surmise that slandering her would anger you. Whatever else he said to you I do not know, but his words were evil, like poison. Do not let them cloud your heart, cousin. He would seek to make all like him."
"Am I not like him?" Celeborn whispered, the fear that had been plaguing him since they had left, for he had recalled his thoughts in the years after Artanis had left, the strange perversions that had crossed his mind, the boredom that had nearly driven him mad.
"You could not be more different!" Luthien said, her eyes flashing, and she offered him a hand up.
It was a good three to four days ride from Himlad to Menegroth but they did it in half the time and Celeborn was nearly sure that his horse would die of exhaustion beneath him yet, by some miracle, the animal persevered and they reached the gates of Menegroth by nightfall of the second day. Melian must have anticipated their arrival for as soon as the gates opened Mablung came running out looking a good deal more concerned than Celeborn had ever seen him look. Never was he more grateful to see the great bull-like march warden.
"Celeborn, tell me, what is the matter?" He asked. "Melian saw…"
"My party must speak to Thingol as soon as possible and have the healers summoned immediately. We have met with an extraordinarily bad situation." Celeborn managed to get out. He was still breathing hard and his heart was hammering in his chest from the exertion.
"My friend, I am glad that you are alive and well," Mablung embraced him. "I do not trust those Feanorians, not in the slightest. I half expected that we should next meet in Mandos's dark halls."
"You were very nearly right. It was Luthien who had the presence of mind to help us escape unscathed," Celeborn replied as the party stepped in from the cold at last. In this particular moment, there was no finer place to them than home. They had barely entered the city when Thingol came rushing towards them, running at full speed, a most unusual sight.
"Luthien, Celeborn!" His face was a wreck of worry as he embraced them tightly, first Luthien and then Celeborn. "My children, forgive me. If I had known how dangerous the situation was I would have sent an entire army with you. I never imagined that the Feanorians would be so bold as to threaten the lives of the prince and princess of Doriath! Please, I beg your forgiveness." He was truly distraught, nearly on the verge of tears.
"Father," Luthien embraced Thingol again and Celeborn saw that tears had risen in the King's eyes though they did not fall. Melian came running then, her golden slippers striking a sharp staccato beat upon the ground. She did not need to say anything at all, for they could plainly read in her face that she had seen all of it.
"Oh my daughter," her voice was trembling and Celeborn wondered that a Maia's voice could be made to tremble. He would never have believed it. "Celeborn, nephew," Melian said, embracing him, a great strength in her thin arms as she held him tight. He almost worried that she would crush him on accident with her anxiety. Just then the healers arrived to take Paniel, placing her gently on a stretcher and receiving instructions from Luthien before they bustled off.
"What was that?" Thingol asked with a skeptical eye.
"The terrible works of Curufin Feanorian," Luthien replied, her eyes flashing. "But we shall speak of everything in order."
"Are the Feanorians truly as…Artanis…said?" The king asked. It was the first time that he had spoken of her in many years and her name did not fall from his mouth as comfortably as it once had. Celeborn shook his head grimly.
"They were worse, far worse. There are no words she could have said that would have adequately painted them as they truly are." His jaw clenched angrily at the memory.
"Come, come, let us adjourn to my council chamber and we will speak of everything." Thingol said. He turned to the march wardens, "Glindor, come and bring your wardens as well. We shall need to hear what everyone has to say. And Mablung, you must come, for I want you to hear the tale and relay it to Beleg when he returns from our borders. Galathil," he turned to the wide-eyed herald, "send for my council. See that they are all assembled."
"You know that everything he said about Artanis was a lie," Luthien whispered to Celeborn as they walked, her eyes flashing as she grasped his arm firmly. "Not a word of it was true. He hates her because she defies him and he seeks to ruin her because of it."
"Why should I care what he says about her?" Celeborn said stiffly. "Why should I care anything about her?" Nevertheless, he reached out to rub the hand that his cousin had placed upon his arm.
"It is over now," She whispered.
"Luthien? Celeborn?" Thingol had turned back to look at them. "Come here and walk with me if you would. I find that I am loath to let you go too far from me at the moment. You must forgive my paranoia."
Once they reached the council chamber they all were seated and together Luthien and Celeborn told the entire tale down to the last detail, after which Glindor told of how the guards had been locked out in the cold and not allowed entry or hospitality. The telling took a very long time indeed for there were many instances where Thingol grew so agitated that he was no longer able to listen. At these times they would all fall silent while the king paced about the room or spoke to his wife in hushed tones. Celeborn did not think that he had ever seen Thingol so irate. Even when Artanis had told him of the kinslaying it had not been this bad.
"You swear that all of this is the truth and nothing but the truth, down to the very word?" Thingol asked, turning away from the wall and tenting his fingers on the table. His face was red and there was a vein throbbing in his temple. Celeborn could hear him breathing hard through his nostrils and he knew that the king was incensed. Luthien nodded.
"He spoke in this manner to the prince of Doriath, the most powerful kingdom in all of Endor, and to the princess of Doriath, my own blood and heir?" It was a rhetorical question so none gave answer but Thingol sat down heavily, his anger quiet, controlled, dangerous.
"This is very dark news indeed, the darkest I have yet heard. Artanis told us of dark things but I find that I had not fully grasped the depth of them until now. Nor was I able to fully comprehend that of which she spoke. I find that I have a new understanding now that I have heard of the true character of the Feanorians."
"He is truly mad," Celeborn said. "This oath that drives them will turn them all to insanity before the end."
"Then I have underestimated the danger that we are in." Thingol sighed a ponderous sigh. "We must be more vigilant, prepare ourselves, and we must gather information." His knuckles were still white from anger as he rapped them absentmindedly against the wooden table. "Mablung, Glindor, you shall consult with Beleg when he returns from the borders and with the other march wardens. You are to devise a plan. I want to have eyes and ears in the north so that I might know all that passes amongst the Feanorians."
"Celeborn," he turned towards the prince, "You will not join the other march wardens. I need you now as a diplomat rather than a soldier. The time is not yet ripe to renew an alliance with the children of Finarfin, but in time I shall need to gather information from them regarding the Feanorians and it may be that we shall need them as allies. For they have a particular insight that we do not and it seems that, perhaps, I overestimated the part that Artanis played in this even as I underestimated the evil her cousins are capable of. I hope that I can depend upon you for that?"
"Of course uncle," Celeborn replied.
"I will send messengers to our other cities within the girdle and I shall send you as an emissary to seek out the green elves and to the few Avari tribes scattered throughout Beleriand. For though I do not expect them to join us in battle should a war arise, they still ought to be aware of the circumstances and the danger that they are in. Furthermore, I wish you to remind them that if they are so inclined, I should be happy to welcome them within the safety of Doriath's girdle. You will undertake this mission first, for I must think long and hard on what I wish you to say to Finrod and I will need more time to do so."
"Your wish is my command my king," Celeborn said, though he did not sound pleased about it.
"And what of me father?" Luthien asked. "I am able to journey to Nargothrond if you wish or work in any other way for the good of my kingdom."
"Luthien…" Thingol began, raising his hand, his face clouded with worry, "let us not speak of this now."
"But father!" Luthien exclaimed. "I am the princess of Doriath, ought I not work for the good of my people? I desire this more than anything father, to protect and safeguard my kingdom! It is my duty! You allowed me to go to Himlad…" But Thingol interrupted her, raising his hand once more in a gesture that bid her be silent.
"That is exactly the problem," he said, his voice growing steely as though scolding a child. "You could have been killed there and I was fool enough to send you. We shall talk of this no more now, not in front of everyone." Melian's gaze tightened, looking at her husband with displeasure and Luthien's eyes welled with tears and the markings of anger, so similar to her father.
"Fine, fine then," she blurted out before turning on her silver slippered heel and striding from the room, letting the door slam closed behind her.
"If you would excuse me," Thingol bowed his head to those gathered there, "I should like to be left alone at this moment to consider the many things I have heard this evening. You all have your assignments. I trust that you will carry them out to the best of your ability for Doriath's sake." They stood and moved to the door. "Except you, Celeborn."
"Uncle?" The prince returned to the table while the door closed behind the others as they exited. He was used to being held behind after the others departed. Thingol often sought his council in private.
"Sit," Thingol bade him, gesturing to a chair, and Celeborn sat gingerly for there was a tension in the room now emanating from Melian and he could tell that she was displeased with her husband.
"Forgive me, husband, nephew, I shall go see to my daughter," she said, her voice husky, before sweeping from the room. The air seemed to quiver in her wake, as though a hurricane had just moved through it and perhaps it had in a way, for the flames of the candles and lanterns flickered as if they would almost go out before growing strong once more. Thingol watched her go with a look that was simultaneously concerned yet firm.
"It appears that Melian and I do not always share the same views on child-rearing. Perhaps you shall find in the future that you face the same issue." The king said. Celeborn's jaw tightened.
"Unless you have some matter of importance then I see no point in your having held me here Uncle," Celeborn said tersely and Thingol sighed.
"Speak your mind," the King said, with a flourish of his mind. "I have asked you to stay because I know that look of yours, that look you get when there is something that you want to say very badly."
"Why can you not send Luthien to Nargothrond, or Beleg, Mablung, Oropher, anyone else?" Celeborn said. "And why must you send me to the Avari? Amdir has not forgotten what happened at Amon Ereb and I too, am loathe to recall the events of the Battle of Beleriand."
"I thought you might say that," Thingol replied. "What I allow Luthien to do and what I do not allow her to do is none of your concern. Beleg and Mablung are but soldiers and not representative of my diplomatic authority. Your cousin Oropher, as we both know, is hardly cut out for any mission requiring delicacy. You may both be in the habit of speaking before you think but at least the majority of what comes out of your mouth at such times is not idiocy."
"Then Galathil perhaps," Celeborn replied and Thingol's mouth turned to a thin line.
"A mere herald? No, I think not. You have made your own bed, Celeborn, do not act so surprised to find that you must now lay in it," the King said. "I have my reasons for sending you."
Celeborn drummed his fingers on the table. "I wish you would tell me what those are."
"And why, so that you may disagree, and argue with me, and still be sent regardless?" Thingol asked. Celeborn at least, it seemed, still had the sense to realize when he could not argue his way out of a losing battle and so he made no reply.
You are too young for the kinslaying to have as much of an impact upon you as it has upon me. You were born after the great migration and to you their names may signify nothing, like characters from a fairytale. Yet I personally knew those who were slain, my kin, the Teleri of Aqualonde. Finwe was my friend and Olwe, whose kingdom was destroyed by the kinslaying is my brother. My brother, your grandfather, Elmo, I must presume to be dead. Your father, Galadhon, who was like my own son has been lost. Olwe and I alone survive and now I find that my kingdom is encroached upon from all sides by Belegur and the Noldor alike. How long will it be until there are none of us who remain? I depend upon you Celeborn. Do not let me down. You may go," Thingol told him, and the prince rose with a stiff bow before leaving.
"It is good, sister, to see you smile once more," Finrod said as they walked through the gardens arm in arm.
"Yes, I quite think so," Artanis replied with a laugh, reaching down to touch a hand to the green stone she wore and, even as her fingers touched it she felt a warm glow seep into her skin. "It seems to make even your Nargothrond less loathsome to me. It is a dull business indeed, being so somber."
"Nor does somberness suit you, Nerwen," Finrod said with a smile, anticipating the elbow in his ribs that followed shortly thereafter.
"No, she said," smiling back at her brother, "and neither, I think, does Celebrimbor, though I have found that I am not as averse to his company as before."
"It is not friendship he seeks," Finrod said with a chuckle and a quirk of his golden brow.
"Quite obviously," Artanis replied. "And, whether or not you may believe me, I will tell you that I have come to see him as something more than a friend as well."
"You have?" Finrod was clearly surprised. "Then…"
"You were right," she said, turning about to face her brother with a smile. "Though he may have his faults, he has a good heart and I can see it at last. He can offer me many things that I want and, indeed, many things I desire but did not anticipate: safety, security, peace. I have no doubt that I could be happy with him, that I would grow to love him." She shook her head. "But that is not my choice."
"Then what do you want that you prize more than safety, security, and peace?" Firnod asked her with a laugh.
"I want to be part of something I believe in," she said, "and I want freedom."
"And you do not believe in those things?" He asked her "You don't believe in security and the like?"
"I do," she said. "But I also believe in perseverance, infighting for what you love, I believe in doing good not only for oneself, but for one's people, and in standing your ground for what you believe to be just. And those things I love the greater, though they may not afford me much peace or safety. What is more, if I would have security, or anything for that matter, I would rather win it by my own hand than have it given to me by Celebrimbor or by anyone else."
Finrod reached out and took his sister's hand. "You sound very much like a Sinda at the moment," he said.
"I would imagine so," she replied and Finrod sighed.
"Artanis, I will support you in your decision it…I…it is just that I hope you are not making this choice with the expectation that you and Celeborn can reconcile. Celeborn, well, it is just that the love for you is gone from his heart and you, nor anyone else can force it to return. Even he himself could not do so. You do not even know if you will ever be allowed to return to Menegroth and, if you do… Celeborn is so very stubborn and so extraordinarily obstinate that I worry that you will dash yourself to pieces against him ere he changes his mind."
"Well of course he is stubborn and obstinate, brother. He is a Sinda is he not?"
"He is the high prince of all Sindar and it seems his stubbornness is proportionate," Finrod laughed long and hard. "Very well then, but I would not expect Celebrimbor to be anything less than very angry with you."
"I do not see why he should not be happy with the stars, even if he cannot have the moon," she said.
"Would you be happy with anything less than you desired?" Finrod asked her.
"No I would not," Artanis said, having taken his point, "and no I am not."
Finrod laughed at that, shaking his head, but his sister stopped, holding the Elessar up to the warm rays of the sun that filtered through the trees.
"Then I expect that you should prepare to return your little present to him along with your answer," Finrod said with a laugh, but Artanis shot him a teasing glare of spite.
"And why is that?" She asked. "It was not a conditional gift. My retaining it is not dependent upon whether or not I return the love he bears me. He gave it to me only so that I would be happy again."
"You may very well think that," Finrod told her with a chuckle, "and perhaps Celebrimbor has even made himself believe that, but this world is a cruel mistress and she exacts a price in return for every treasure she surrenders, so do most men grow agitated when they do not receive what they see as due recompense for the gifts they given, even if they themselves are not conscious of their own expectations."
"And cynicism does not become you, brother," Artanis said with a laugh, bending to examine a bush of pink roses. "Celeborn asked everything of me and yet he never forced me to do a single thing against my own will."
And Finrod was glad to see that his sister could say the Prince's name now with a laugh rather than a tear. "I said 'most' men Artanis, not all of them. You must not always be comparing everyone to Celeborn, for he is not without faults of his own and he is what one might call a strange bird but, more than that, those who truly love you will not put such expectations upon you." Artanis stood, her gaze flickering to her brother's.
"So you do not believe that Celebrimbor truly loves me?" She asked.
"I do not know," Finrod said. "Perhaps he does but, as you said yourself, his jealous streak persists, which is one of the reasons that I believe he will demand you give that trinket back."
"Fie!" She said, "you mustn't call it a trinket brother, it is far to grand for that!" She laughed. "Ah, but I should certainly hate to give it up."
"You don't need gems to make you happy," Finrod laughed. "Wouldn't you rather have the freedom to earn happiness yourself as well, rather than having it handed to you?" He parroted her earlier words.
"But I do love gems so very much," she said.
"Believe me when I say that I am well aware of that," he told her.
"So then," she said, glancing up at him once more with a grin, "if you don't intend to force me to marry Celebrimbor that must mean that you truly love me brother."
"I never intended to force you to marry Celebrimbor!" Finrod cried. "I merely think you should expand your options!" But Artanis only laughed at his momentary unrest.
"Very well," she said, "then I shall believe you. But I must be going I fear, for it is near high noon already and Celebrimbor does grow ever so upset if I am but a moment late."
"You ought to tell him, Artanis!" Finrod called after her. "Do not dally!"
"Perhaps!" She called with a wave of her hand, "but I rather think I would like to have but a little more time with my trinket!" And Finrod sighed in exasperation, though he had to admit that it was good to see her in such high spirits.
"I was beginning to wonder where you had got to," Celebrimbor said as she entered the smithy and, though he said it with a smile, Artanis knew him well enough to detect the undercurrent of irritation in his voice. Though his heart was kinder and his demeanor more modest, he was not so unlike his grandfather as he liked to think.
"I was with Finrod," she said by way of explanation as she seated herself in her usual spot on the stool beside her workbench, placing her elbows there on the table and propping her chin up on her hands.
"Timeliness is a virtue," Celebrimbor said and Artanis laughed, thinking it a joke, for it would have been a joke if Celeborn had said it, but the dark-haired elf did not laugh, merely raising his eyes for a fraction of a second to glance at her before he returned to his goblet.
"Surely you cannot begrudge me the time I have spent with my brother," she said, lighthearted, and yet she was not so sure that Celebrimbor was in agreement.
"Of course not," he replied, as though this were a silly thing for her to have said, but she found that she did not believe him, for it felt as though he still read her tardiness as a slight she had intentionally made against him.
"It is very fine," she said, "that goblet you are making." As she had expected, her praise of his work caused him to brighten visibly.
"Thank you," he replied, excitement now evident in his voice, "it is, perhaps, the finest one I have yet made."
"And does it have any particular powers?" She asked him curiously. Celebrimbor laughed.
"No," he said, "I am afraid it is merely a normal goblet."
"Hardly normal," she laughed, "a fantastic goblet." Something about his work did fascinate her, the intricacy of it, his attention to detail, the ingenuity with which he combined materials she would never have thought to use. Watching him work was equivalent to watching art being made. "Is it a gift for anyone?"
"Not in particular," he told her, "it is merely for my own edification that I craft this. But perhaps I will give it to Finrod or Orodreth or someone if they take a liking to it." He set the cup aside for a moment and smiled at her. "Speaking of gifts," he said, nodding towards the Elessar, "I am glad to see that my gift has had its intended effect. It is good to hear you laugh again, Artanis."
"Yes, well, It is not surprising to me, for you seem to be the master of all that you turn your hand to," she said, having meant it as a compliment, but from the stormy look that flashed upon his face but momentarily, she wondered if some of Celeborn's temperament had rubbed off on her, for it had clearly been the wrong thing to say.
"There is one thing that has not turned to my hand," he said simply before returning his attention to the goblet he was crafting while Artanis toyed with the Elessar.
For perhaps he had realized, even as she had, that the very stone he had crafted had betrayed him. Finrod was wise, and what he had said was true, for Artanis knew that Celebrimbor had crafted the Elessar for her out of kindness but she also knew Celebrimbor's character, and thus she was aware that he must have secretly hoped that the Elessar, in repairing her heart, would also turn her to his will: that she might, through its healing power, remember Aman, their homeland, as a joyous place, and that she would look upon him and see renewed promise; in this, he had doubtlessly hoped that she would find it in her heart to love him at last.
Yet in the years since he had given it to her, and in the years since he had kissed her, she had lain awake each night, turning the Elessar between her fingers, its green light glowing even in the dark of her chambers. And, at those times, in the sacred silence of her heart and under the cover of the secret veil of the night, it was not Celebrimbor that she thought of, but Celeborn, for nothing so resembled the green of his eyes as the Elessar's sheen of sunlight upon summer leaves. And it was not Aman that she saw renewed, but Doriath, where she had been so very happy.
Celebrimbor must have wondered whether this stone might heal the rift between the two of them. But she, on the other hand, wondered to herself if the Elessar might even have the power to heal the damage that she had wrought, to soothe and soften Thingol's heart, to bring peace of mind and peace of heart to the kingdom of Menegroth, to heal the hurt that she had seen last in her lover's eyes. The Elessar had engendered in her the hope that all was not lost and it was that which was the reason for her laughter, the cause for her smile. And it was the Elessar itself that had turned her heart from him, for how could she give it to him fully, as he deserved, while it yet remained full of another?
After decades of restless sleep she had finally, with the Elessar upon her breast, found comfort in slumber, for when she wore it, she could see in her visions that Celeborn was still here, at her side, his heart unbroken, their love made new from the ashes of deceit; that he would gather her into his arms, and she would tell him how very sorry she was, how much she regretted all that she had done, and he would kiss her brow and call her once more Galadriel. A whisper in the night, the name echoed about her chamber before it was swallowed by the silence.
"We were extraordinarily pleased, your royal highness, to hear that you had returned from Himlad unscathed," Saeros offered as the councilors seated themselves around the long table.
"I should certainly hope so," Celeborn said with a tight-lipped smile as he flipped his ledger open. Though Thingol preferred to use a scribe, it was one of Celeborn's habits to take note of the proceedings himself. He found it focused and settled his mind. His footman handed him a pot of ink and he dipped the quill in, blotting the tip on a scrap of paper as he drummed the fingers of his other hand impatiently on the lacquered tabletop.
"Though you did not return unchanged, or so it seems," Saeros continued, his voice oily, wheedling, and Celeborn looked up in exasperation at the Minister of the Interior. How very, very typical of him, he though.
"If you have something you wish to say then have out with it now," he commanded the councilor, his voice polite, though he felt as though he wished to be anything but.
"Oh, nothing, nothing your royal highness," Saeros said, feigning an air of innocence and concern that was ill suited to him, like a wolf wearing a sheep's skin. He does not even possess the grace of subtlety, Celeborn thought. The other councilors shifted uncomfortably in their chairs but remained silent as they dared not interrupt either the senior-most minister or the prince. "It is only that, well, after the…tragic events involving your beloved there were many who wondered if you would still be up to the task of governing. The heart does addle the mind after all, or so it has been said by greater minds than I. For a while, at least…you seemed so very…oh what's the word…tired."
Celeborn carefully set his quill down and folded his hands before him, trying with all of his mental fortitude to resist the tempting prospect of lobbing the jar of ink at Saeros. He briefly considered reminding the minister of his own melancholy after his wife's indiscretion with Mablung but decided that it would not do, for Saeros would not forget such a slight and, ever after, he would be searching for a way to break even with Celeborn over it, or worse, Mablung would receive yet another dose of Saeros's anger.
The prince found the strength at last, though only just barely, to control his temper and said, "I thank you for your heartfelt concern, minister. I have found that the trip to Himlad was precisely what I needed to reinvigorate my spirits. There is much to be said for the benefits of facing an adversary head on and, having at last seen for myself the madness that plagues the sons of Feanor, my mind is bent more fully than ever upon protecting Doriath from involvement in the quarrels of the Noldorin princes."
"I am glad to hear that, your highness," Saeros smiled. "There were those of us who were beginning to wonder."
"We all have our moments don't we?" Celeborn said with a smile, "perfection is, after all, the province of the Valar is it not?" He glanced around the table, and each of the ministers dropped his or her head in turn. And indeed, there had been at least one moment, in many cases more than one, where each of them had made some egregious error for which they had begged the King's forgiveness. Lust, greed, sloth, envy…his eyes settled on Mablung, Venessiel, Fingaeron, Saeros, and continued down the table until they all appeared duly chastised, or at least duly silenced.
"Well then," Celeborn said cheerfully. "Enough dallying about with pleasantries." The King has asked us to look into this matter of logging near Himring. We have had reports from Nellas, the chieftain of the Mithrim in that region regarding confrontations that our people in that area have had with Maedhros's people."
"They are fickle fools!" He cried later, with only the King for company. Thingol gave a ponderous sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and propping his feet up on his desk in a most unkingly manner. "One minute Saeros is berating me over Artanis and making insinuations about my ties to the Noldor and in the next moment he leads a decisive vote against taking action against Maedhros for the protection of our people!"
Thingol merely laughed and Celeborn turned, one eyebrow raised severely, pointing a finger at his uncle and said, "this is no laughing matter Uncle!"
"I merely enjoy seeing you so animated," Thingol grinned. "It is reminiscent of how you were in the years just after the rising of the sun: so young, chomping at the bit." Celeborn glowered.
"You are the second person who has remarked upon my vigor today," Celeborn said with a scowl.
Thingol ignored his comment and said, "it is not often nowadays that the cards do not fall as you choose. You have grown unaccustomed to failure, Celeborn."
"It is not that I am unaccustomed to it, it is that I am unaccustomed to so much of it! Nothing, in recent years has gone the way that I have planned." Celeborn seethed.
"And it does irk you so." Thingol chuckled. "You know how they are, Celeborn, fighting, and bickering, and looking out oh so carefully for themselves."
"Then disband the entire cabinet!" Celeborn fumed. "Let us bring in entirely new ministers."
"Disband the whole cabinet?" Thingol asked with a raised eyebrow. "Where oh where has your wisdom led you now my son? Why fear the Noldor, or indeed Melkor himself, with twelve angry lions in your own bed? They have all been in those positions for hundreds of years – "
"And all the better reasons to rid ourselves of them," Celeborn retorted. "They are ensconced in power, in corruption. What better reason to clean house?"
"And what would you do, if you replaced them?" Thingol asked. "They would have nothing to fill their time but to wander about Menegroth and, fueled by anger, raise up opposition against you. And how would you control them then? You would no longer have their positions and the promise of royal favor to hold over them. No. You want them exactly where they are now. While they still hold their positions they have reason to fear you, for you can take from them their livelihood, if you so choose. And is it not better, after all, to keep your enemies close by, where you may be intimately aware of their plots and thereby counter them?"
"What a lovely picture you paint, Uncle," Celeborn said with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a bookshelf so that he could face his uncle. "Prisoners in our own palace who must bribe, and connive, and cheat, and lie, and subterfuge to get even the simplest thing done."
But Thingol seemed not to find the whole mess as upsetting as Celeborn did and the King merely laughed again and said. "They are also, all very adept at their jobs. There is a reason that I have assigned them to the positions that they hold and a reason that I have allowed them to remain in those positions year after year, century after century. True, they have their vices, but I would wager that their merits are the greater. And you, Celeborn, have been dealing with them long enough that this should not be news to you." Celeborn ground his teeth and looked very put off. Thingol laughed again. "I would hope that you would have realized that your…erm…"
"Call it what it was Uncle."
"Your ill-fated relationship with Artanis would have some impact on your political standing." Thingol finished.
"They were displeased the entire time I was with her and, while I had her, I found that I did not care. I had thought that they might be pleased now that she is gone, that my favor with them would grow. But, instead I find that they seem only all the more eager to do me what damage they can." Celeborn fumed.
"You must learn not to have any expectations with them, Celeborn," Thingol mused. "Or at least you ought to set your expectations very low. Then it will be a pleasant surprise indeed if things turn out better than you expect. You young elves are always thinking you can change the world in one fell swoop! Ha! Drudgery and toil, Celeborn. Drudgery and toil!" He laughed boisterously but Celeborn only glowered. If there had been any humor in what the king had said then it was clearly past him.
"Will you do nothing to help me remedy this situation?" Celeborn asked and Thingol shook his head.
"No, I think you have it quite in hand," he replied, taking his boots from his desk and leaning forward with clasped hands. "I trust you. I have raised you as a King after all." Celeborn rolled his eyes. "What do you do when you fall from your horse?" The King asked.
"Get back on it," Celeborn replied monotonously, as though this were an answer he had memorize long ago and recited a thousand times by rote.
"Very good," Thingol said. "Then you had best saddle up. Win them," the King said. "Win their votes. A soldier who falls and rises is worth twice the respect of one who has never fallen, for a man who has never fallen from his horse has never faced a worthy adversary. And your Artanis – "
"Do not call her my Artanis," Celeborn spat. "Do not associate me with her or with her deeds."
"Well I may not have liked her very much," Thingol said with a laugh, "but I often found I could not help but respect her. She has more mettle in her than there is in every member of that cabinet combined. A worthy adversary indeed." He smiled. "If you can survive a woman like that, you can survive anything."