The descent down the spiral stair continued. Once more Thranduil sought a subject in common to both he and his guide; for the way was long and dark. Yet, other than the black armour which Thranduil was still hesitant to expound upon he could think of no interest they might share. In his frustration at the glowering silence Thranduil glared at the stone walls, but then stopped in wonder. A swirl of banded colour caught his eye and he slowed in his descent to examine the heavy stone blocks. Gently he traced careful fingers across the smooth polished stone and after a moment a small smile graced his lips.

"How interesting. A strange choice."

"Something in the rocks?" Annatar asked, a sigh forming at the edge of the question.

Thranduil nodded. "Yes. This is the explanation in part of Ost-in-Edhils fortune, for it is an indicator of great wealth. I had believed their bounty to stem from Moria alone. Yet it seems that they themselves sit upon mines of great worth."

And the elven-princes fingers drifted across the wide blocked wall. His keen eyes took in the myriad glints of firelight reflected in the faces of millions of polished crystal shards. "blue ground...serpentinized..."

Now Annatar also stared at the stone, and Thranduil traced the bends and folds in the rock.

"Placed under stress and folded. This stone was once part of a deep volcanoes heart, buried well within the earth where it cooled into stone. The pressure required to buckle this into waves is nearly unfathomable. And...aha!" The tip of Thranduils finger lightly touched a small glimmer of shining yet rough surface. And with a smile he turned to Annatar. "Yet that same crucible forges stones of incredible hardness- and gems of incredible worth."

"A diamond in the rough." Annatar breathed, for a moment quiet wonder possessing his features. "A skilled eye, even for an elf."

And Thranduil smiled. "The rock probably does not have enough diamonds to make mining them feasible, yet it is a fine choice for a rulers secret stair."

"You know much about stone, young lord." Annatar mused. And Thranduil gave a slow smile.

"Well, when you live for a few hundred years underground you learn a thing or two about rocks."

At that the maia chuckled to himself, as if laughing at some private joke. "Then do you have a favourite?"

And Thranduil thought.

"I must confess to a fondness for metamorphic stone. I have also a deep love of the minerals and their wondrous forms. Beryls of green, and Corundums of red and blue - emeralds, rubies and especially sapphire. Diamonds of course for the unique nature of their forging."

"Forging is an odd word to use for stone." Annatar commented.

Thranduil gave him a confused glance. "Yet is that not what it is? Before the hands of Elves or Men or Dwarves even reach them they are wrought by forces beyond our power - crafted in the depths of the earth or the shores of the sea for millions of years. If they are not forged then what are they?"

And Annatar for a moment seemed taken aback, but then gave a gracious grin.

"I do not disagree - yet in all my years I have not once heard the elves of middle earth speak of the earths-forge, of Aüle's smith-craft. Though the Dwarves I have heard speak as much, though not as often now as they used to...No. Not since Aman have I heard one speak as you do."

And Thranduil fell into an uneasy, but not unpleasant silence.

"I was mentored by an Elf with a fondness for the works of the earth, who was welcome in the dwarf-halls of old. My knowledge of stone I learned from Eöl, and love of minerals in their pure forms I gained. I learned then that raw ores of Silver and Gold in their natural forms could often surpass the beauty they would possess in wrought jewelry."

It was then that Annatar laughed, his voice echoing down the dark stair.

"A pity then that you were born here in Middle Earth! Aüle's halls want for such enthusiasm! You would have been welcome there."

"One day I will go knocking on those doors then." Thranduil smiled, and the thought of once again pursuing smith-craft filled him with warmth. "And what of you, Annatar? What material or mineral strikes you most strongly?"

With a sigh Annatar smiled. "Igneous - the stones of fire."

"So expected." Thranduil tutted in mock exasperation and Annatar gave a shrug.

"So be it then! But I cannot deny the joy I find in the molten earth. Do you happen to know the multitude of shapes that lava may take?" He asked, his voice joking with the accusation.

"I have never had the pleasure of examining a live volcano, no." Thranduil laughed. "Only a few there were in Beleriand and none were places even the bravest would willingly tread. So such exploration was strictly off limits to us elven-smiths."

And once again a devious smile formed on Annatars face that made Thranduil tremble slightly to see it. After a moment the maia said: "I have too many that are dear to me. Gabbro, Gneiss, then there is obsidian which I know you've seen. Sharper than even elvish blades and polished as a mirror. Volcano glass that will shred to pieces any who fall against it! Unfortunately it is too brittle to do much with...a shame as it is one of my favourites."

Here Annatar gave a wistful sigh, one filled with both longing and rue.

"I have seen the majesty of this Middle Earth - walked corridors bored through the earth by rivers of molten stone; their sides and top rounded perfectly, yet the floor flat and even and polished like marble. I have carved luminous works from crystals taller than the grandest carvings of men in deep places of the earth where the air shimmers with heat in abyssal darkness. My own quarters were once formed from cooled magma polished as a dark mirror and casting about the light of glowing torches wrought in iron and gold..."

Then it was that Annatar halted and a warning hand fled to his lips - for he realized the course of his thought and knew he must stop before he spoke too earnestly and thus cheated himself of a great victory. And though Thranduil noticed the sudden reserve of his host he did not mention it, but waited patiently for what might next be said. But what secret he hoped to learn he was denied, for with mock coyness Annatar spoke; "And what of your home? Surely the land of your origin is wondrous and fair."

For a time they again walked in silence and their footsteps counted out the long minutes. Just as Annatar despaired of an answer the echoing melody of Thranduils voice issued into the torch-lit darkness.

"Trees there were with leaves of beryl, wrought with veins of gold. And upon each bough fluttered now and again jewel toned birds birthed beneath the mould. Our queen, Melian, was fond of nightingales and to them alone she taught her song - of which theirs for all it's beauty is only a lingering echo. Deep in caves of limestone a mighty grove of beech arose as white columns. The greatest craftsmen of Doriath carved creature and plant alike into the stone trunks. Graceful causeways braided themselves upon sweeping arches and their twisted paths vaulted above the Esgalduin - the river beneath the Thousand Caves. Menegroth pulsed to the sound of those wild and pure waters. Crystal clear so that in the shallows every stone could be seen as if through a pane of glass, yet the waters were so cruelly cold that they could still a beating heart in minutes."

And here Thranduil gave a soft smile. "I was named for those mighty waters. I miss it so..for that place is now lost until the ending of Arda - below the fickle waves of the sea. And I can tread my beloved home no more."

Silence once again descended as each trod the stair with thoughts heavy in their hearts.

"I think...that is what I begrudge the Ñoldor the most." Thranduil confessed. "Before the come of the elves of Aman out of the west and the rising of the moon the lands of Beleriand - while not at peace with the enemy were at balance with him. We did not serve the dark lord, nor wantonly provoke him to war. Yet neither did he deign much to trouble us who lived further afield, though by his power the lands were made dangerous beyond the safe-keeps of our cities. Our spheres seldom overlapped save for those who went journeying at their own peril. But much of that was destroyed by the come of the Ñoldor - and when Bauglir's wrath fell it too often struck the lands of those who had turned aside from open war with him, for ever the Ñoldor were a thorn in his side and ever they drove their war while encroaching on our lands, establishing their kingdoms as if it were their right.

And if the Valar are merciful and forgiving of the Ñoldor then those kin may yet see Valinor again. Yet I will never again lay eyes on Menegroth - place of my birth and my only home which was taken from me!"

And for a while Thranduil paused, and once his heart had stilled he spoke again but now in a voice much softer and subdued - as if fearing to be overheard by unkind ears. "That I am also punished by another's transgressions; also suffer the Doom of the Ñoldor as if it were rightfully my own, this is why for so long I have had no dealings with the Ñoldor."

"Then your bitterness runs deep." Annatar spoke gently, yet his words took the sound of a question, as if he desired to expand on this new revelation and to know just how deep the wound went. Yet; Thranduil turned from the subject, saying only; "Yes. But on this matter nothing can be done. And..." he spoke now with confused feeling, "I fear I have already spoken more than was meant."

They paused there at the bottom of the stair in the small entryway before a great and heavy door of oak and bronze. On this door Annatar laid his hand, grasping the handle but he had not yet turned it and the way remained shut. Instead he looked to his companion with stern eyes that yet spoke of kindness.

"Speak no more than what is comfortable to you - and I will listen without judgement; though not perhaps without advice. For I sense your troubles lie at a great depth indeed and if giving voice lightens them then I am glad to listen."

Thus Thranduil felt comforted but still hesitation remained in his heart. And in that moment of indecision Annatar struck with cunning words, for he sensed the wavering of the princes will. "And surely it might be easier to confide in one who may not be injured by the confession - or who has a stake in what might be said."

Then Thranduil nodded. "Yes. That is true. Then I thank you for your kind offer - I will keep it in mind."

"As you wish. But for now on to lighter dealings." The maia spoke as he thrust open the heavy door. They were blinded by the radiant sun even in her setting glory and for a long while they stood blinking in the golden light. As they moved forward to the work-bench Thranduil noticed at once with startling clarity how at contrast the white washed walls of Celebrimbors forge were with the dark light of Eöl's armour - as if they hailed from two separate worlds never meant to meet.

In his thoughts Thranduil also kept Annatar, for the maia's pace had slowed at first as his quick golden eyes alighted upon the armour. But then his pace had redoubled with interest and his gaze never wavered from the craft even as he questioned it's owner.

"And what oddity is this - for I can sense it is unlike any armour of normal make even from afar. Is it of metal? It reflects no light, only darkness."

"It is metal, one named Galvorn. A craft of Eöl that he was alone in making."

At the bench Annatar now looked carefully at the armour but did not yet move to handle it. His eyes traced the markings in the hard metal and a smile came to his lips.

"Eöl was a craftsman indeed. There is magic in this work of his, and deep magic at that. The fine tracing here -" Annatar indicated a fine line of filigree that curved over the shoulder. "is written in dwarf-runes but the speech is of the Eldar, though a variant I am not well versed in. Yet if I am not mistaken they are words of malleability at need."

Thranduil nodded. "Then that solves a great riddle for me, for I had wondered about the nature of this armour. Eöl was no small elf, though he had not my height nor breadth of shoulder. Yet; when I first tried this armour it fit as well as if it had been made for me. I knew then that it had altered it's own shape, but I knew not how such a thing was possible until now."

Annatar looked up then, wonder in his eyes but also a deep eagerness. "The armour can change shape?"

"Yes, I have noticed while wearing Eöl's armour. If I needed to squeeze past unyielding stone the armour flexed ever so slightly like cloth. If I were assailed by a hard strike the armour became as rigid and hard as dragon-scale to defend against the blow. Never did it inhibit my movement, though I twist in any conceivable way in the heat of battle. And as I have said it may change it's form to suit whomever is wearing it. I believe if it willed it could alter it's form to entrap or destroy whoever tried to bear it against it's will."

Thranduil lightly ran his hands over the armour with a fond and gentle touch. But Annatar now frowned with confusion on his face.

"It's will?"

And Thranduil looked toward a near bench, upon which was a notebook bound in coarse paper with undyed twine.

"Lord Celebrimbors notes; they may answer many of these questions before even they occur to your mind. Though if there is something that you cannot find in his writings do not hesitate to ask me.

And Annatar quickly swept up the journal and began to delve into the mysteries that his host had uncovered, and as he did so he murmured aloud.

"- it is noted that among the properties of the armour are the following; that it is impervious to any blade made of iron, steel, or stone - none will pierce or even scratch it. That on striking it can withstand great force of even dwarvish weapons. I do not believe orkish or troll arms would fare much better, for despite it's use in war the armour is largely unmarred and looks as smooth as if straight from the forge."

With a grin Annatar asked Thranduil, "And is this all to be believed?"

Thranduil nodded, coming around the bench to stand near Annatar, peering over his shoulder at the text.

"Yes. Star Iron blades and armour cannot be pierced by those made of iron from the earth. Steel will do nothing. And it will slice through even mithril with ease if it so chooses."

"And that is curious to me above all else," Annatar spoke, turning to look at the elven-prince intently. His eyes were serious and unflinching as he beheld Thranduil standing impassively at his side.

"You speak as if this armor has a spirit to it - and I sense a deep energy, a power coming from it that is difficult to explain. Do you know what the cause of it is?"

Thranduil turned away toward the armor, and for a moment mused over his words with caution.

"The cause of it? Only that Galvorn may not only contain the energy of a spell but the will of it's maker."

With caution and curiosity Annatar approached the work-bench once more and this time with gentle hands touched the armour of the dark elf, and as soon as he laid his fingers against the metal it crackled and sparked with such a force that he at once removed his hands and instead glared balefully at the object which had so bitingly scorned him.

"Dark Elf indeed. For that is no mere will that he has encapsulated in this armour, but a piece of his very Fëa that lies anchored here in Middle Earth even after his death...a very large part of his soul as well...unless the remainder of his spirit sought to reunite in the metal after his death."

And now Thranduil looked upon the armor with dread in his heart, for if his tutors spirit was so tightly bound within it then who was he to risk what might be his last refuge in Middle Earth?

"Can you not feel that? Annatar asked, and when Thranduil was mute bade him come over. "Place your hands on the armour."

Though it was with great hesitation, Thranduil did as he was asked. He pushed back the silk sleeves to keep them from contacting the metal and gently he laid his hands upon it. The metal began to hum in the quiet of the shop and rattled softly against the bench. It was then only when Annatar once more attempted to touch the armour that it revealed it's true power.

At once a wellspring of energy greeted him, playing over his mind like dappled moonlight in deep and dark groves of ancient trees. It sang to him of cool earth and hidden forest, of palaces of stone and halls of earth. And it was the song of Eöl that it whispered to him until all he could hear in his mind was it's pure notes. Yet wound into the strain was a single word echoing below the rest.

Beware...beware...do not trust...beware...

But Thranduil could not understand the armours intent and knew not what it warned him against.

So he relinquished the armour once more and stepped away, and all the world came into focus once more. And Annatar spoke to him, saying: "It is a great deal of spirit to embed within a metal. For normally it does not hold so high a charge for long, yet this armour is without doubt an incarnate - a living thing - even though on a minor scale. And what of it's other properties? What other wonders can this armour achieve?"

"None." Thranduil noted, "Save it's indestructible nature. For it withstands any strike of blade, and impact no matter how heavy it may be. It does not rust, nor corrode. Not even soaked in dragons blood does it change - blood which would devour any mortal blade or even those crafted among the Eldar. No, not even dragon-fire may alter it-"

Now, Annatar had been listening intently all this time; yet when Thranduil spoke of the blade deflecting dragons-fire he scoffed aloud.

"That is a bold claim, my young lord. And I suppose you know this for certain, or is it wisdom passed down from Eöl to you?"

And at this Thranduils topaz eyes became hard as glacial ice, for he was not inclined to be mocked - especially not concerning so painful an ordeal. His voice was sharp and bitter as he spoke next. "This wisdom is my own, and bought at a dear price. It is not a claim I make lightly or without proof. If you disbelieve me then I suppose you might yourself wish to find a dragon to test it against - and I wish you well in the endeavor!"

Annatar was taken aback and his eyes flashed with anger, but he stilled himself for a moment longer. "It is not unreasonable to doubt such a claim my young Prince. But I wonder, how is it then that you know that it can withstand dragon-fire? For though the armour may survive I doubt the elf wearing it would be so fortunate; rather that a pile of armour and ash should be left to tell of the tale."

"The armour dissipates heat at an incredible rate - where it covers it is quite cool."

"And where it does not?" Annatar questioned, venomous curiosity in his voice. "what becomes of delicate flesh and bone not shielded by the galvorn?"

Thranduil made no response save only a choked noise at the back of his throat. Hastily he turned away, and once more his hand moved to his face. As he cradled his wounded left cheek and felt the light leave the eye on that side he chided himself, whispering: "disgraceful...that the scion of Kings should have so little say over the wounds of his spirit..."

Annatar made to speak but the words of Thranduil cut short and sharp.

"I believe I am done for today; Annatar, and that it is best if you take your leave."

And though the curt dismissal rankled something deep in the maia's proud spirit - for he was a lord dark and terrible and did not take slights or insults lightly; yet he could not reveal himself at such an early stage.

There is nothing else I can gain at this time in any case. He comforted himself. And summoning the depths of his false goodwill he spoke:

"Of course, my young lord. I hope I will find you again to continue our project when you are of better heart for it." With an angry turn he strode with heavy feet towards the far door. But just at the threshold he paused. "Though...if we might also talk of the earth once more I would be glad as well, for there are not many here I may talk to about such things. And my offers, as always still stand."

Here he took his leave and at last Thranduil was alone.

At the bench the elven-prince shuddered with the pain of his old wound, now no longer reigning back the sound of his agonized breath. For beneath his fingers the deep rends were open once more, for though his glamour was strong only illusion it ever was - for the wound had never truly healed.

Authors Note:

I'm going to try to start making these a bit longer so I can tell more of the story at once. Also, because I update so infrequently. (thank you real life for making fanfiction difficult)

Cover for the 'Eregion Arc' of Hríveresse should be done pretty soon, I may go back and do one for the 'Beleriand Arc' as well. You can find it on deviantart: AeonVicious or tumlr: EighthAgeArtificer (not up yet, hopefully in the next day or two)