{ 18 }

On the eastern horizon the morning sun gleamed with sacred fire that banished the shadows of a long night. Winter branches creaked and moaned with the passing of the strong wind that whistled from the northern wastes - the abode of dragons separated from the Greenwood by little more than uplifted peaks of sharp stone cast in a winding ribbon running east and west. Safe they were in the warmth of the Kings Hall. Celeborn leaned heavily upon a carven limestone rail as he watched the breaking dawn. Beside him Thranduil had finally grown silent. For a while the quiet of morning held and only the distant rushing of water over stone reached their ears. Celeborn straightened and on his face was a deep frown; for a thought now plagued his mind - a thread in his friends story that had not yet been neatly tied off.

"Many things have you revealed to me, Thranduil. I thank you for deeming me worthy of such confidence. Yet I am concerned; for you have revealed a deeper injury than what I suspected. That night...the one where you allowed the abhorrent one to peer behind the veil of your mind. Did this have no effect on you in the days to follow? For I do not believe that even one act of trust went unpunished."

With much trepidation Thranduil spoke, his noble face turned away; "One such session would not be enough to do any harm I deem."

"And it was only the once?" Celeborns voice was uncertain, wavering with unspoken dread. As the silence of Thranduil continued a great heavy fear descended upon him for in it he heard his fears confirmed. Slowly and without gazing upon his guest Thranduil spoke.

"If it were the once, there would still have been harm - yet less than what was done. That day was fateful for many reasons. For I met Elrond then and our long friendship was kindled; and my camaraderie with Celebrimbor began to mature. Yet, that is not all that came to pass that day - for two choices I made then without forethought or care of the future. These have haunted me in all the long years since their making. One I regret not at all, for it was the best mistake I have ever dared and I do not feel ashamed of it. The other I regret more than any other thing I have done."

"These choices." Celeborn drew near the king again. "What were they that have so changed you? For now my curiosity peaks - long I have wondered at your transformation since our time in Doriath."

Thranduil looked up then, his brow furrowed - for he knew not of any severe change in himself. Even still Celeborn seemed grave as he spoke hidden thoughts.

"Long have I known, but little spoken of this but Thranduil - my friend - and I mean no insult or harm by this. But in you I have sensed a change since the days of your youth. A dark one. If all I have heard of your doings before the final fall of Sauron be true, then I would know the root of it. For many of your deeds were at odds with the elf of Thingols guard and Turgon's service."

Celeborn then drew nearer still to the elven-king and his voice was lowered, quieted against unwanted ears. "If you feel I am worthy of it; confide in me this - what befell you in the long years after Eregions fall? For you were not counted in the realms of Lothlorien, or Imladris. Among the armies of elves you were not and rumour has it that never did you return to Eryn Galen, save shortly before the siege of Barad Dur. Then you rode beside Oropher your father and led from that place your people as King. But what befell the proud prince of the Greenwood in those years of our war - between the elves and the dark lord?"

"Ai!" Thranduil spoke and quickly turned away, for though he wished to speak at last the truth he was yet loathe to reveal it to any, even so near a friend. "Such a thing has only been told to one other, my father who is now dead. I had not willed to speak of that pain again. As I have said before, that day was fateful for in those choices the greater part of your answer lies. Though I fear my story has already gone overlong this night. Yet what I will speak to you is best heard by the light of Anar. Even so this is not the place to relay it and I would feel better if we sought solitude for our conversation."

They retired then to Thranduils study, and by the warmth of firelight and sunlight streaming through colored glass they sat a while and spoke of lighter deeds. For a time their company in the bright study was pleasant and words flowed easily between them. Yet the conversation eventually came back to it's point, as is the wont of such tales. Thranduil, finally ready to speak, rested his teacup upon the table. With the weight of heavy grief etched upon his fair features he spoke.

"You asked if I found you worthy. This I do. Yet much pain would it cause me if these deeds I will tell you be relayed to my dear Legolas for I could not bear his knowing. Only two have I in part relayed this tale to. Yet to none in whole have I spoken as I will now do for you." Here he paused to think a moment, head lowered to his chest in silence. Celeborn showed no impatience and with grace awaited the telling of Thranduils tale.

"When I began to weave this tale, I told you of my entanglement in the snares of the Dark Lord; though I most certainly was not his target but merely a casualty of circumstance as he sought to sow grief for my dear friend Celebrimbor." It was a while before Thranduil composed himself again, for what he meant to speak of pressed with a terrible weight upon him.

"It began when we returned to Ost-in-Edhil after our ride. On our journey home I talked long with Elrond and learned of his adoption into the homes of the Ñoldor - the sons of Fëanor. Then I learned that when he was old enough he was sent into tutelage under Gil-Galad who is kin to them. I gathered that he held a deep affection for his adopted uncle; who I suspected showed him all the favor of a true child of the Ñoldor - for they were very close. But it was through Elrond that I first learned that the High King of the Ñoldor in those days, Gil-Galad, mistrusted the maia Annatar and that Galadriel was of like opinion. I thought it strange that Celebrimbor would so quickly disregard the opinion of both one he respected and one he loved for the sake of a stranger without some deeper workings being afoot. So I inquired about this upon our return..."

Their return had not gone unnoticed.

With fond words of parting Elrond had taken his leave at the stables, yet Celebrimbor and Thranduil were of jovial mood and thought to spend the night conversing over various vintages of wine. Like children they laughed and raced happily through the prestigious covered causeways that wound on twisted paths through expansive gardens surrounding Celebrimbors private estate. Yet in the shadows a form watched, leaning upon a marble wall. Only his eyes; lit with a fire from within that glowed ominously in the night, moved at their passing.

But nothing spoiled the good mood of the elves and taking several dusty bottles between them they retreated a quiet, remote corner of the great feast hall. Reclining upon cushions of velvet and gold embroidered silk they began to wile away the long hours of the night. In the beginning their tales were of a jovial nature and often had their mingled laughter rung from the high rafters of the jewel-bedecked hall. Their mirth and goodwill echoed from pillars of finely carven stone. It rebounded from a high vaulted ceiling with its paintings of a far flung paradise. Yet in time their laughter quieted and they turned to more thoughtful and sombre speech. The current worries of both their lands hung heavily upon them and they agreed that mutual cooperation would be paramount to weather the future if it should go ill for their domains.

"We shall have to rely on all our allies if this downward path continues on for long." Celebrimbor sighed into his glass. "and new allies may be in short supply, for hard times makes hard hearts. Yet as much as I fear for the holdings of our lands, for our growing orchards and vineyards and the herds we keep across Eregion I fear more for the rumours of war that have begun to reach my ears."

Thranduil felt a tightness in his chest. For in such rumors both their fears lie. "I do not think it will come to war." Thranduil whispered, though his voice shook.

"I do not dare to hope it will not." Celebrimbor replied in a voice barely heard. "Yet it has been far too quiet as of late. Evil does not sleep so long and now I fear it is stirring once more. Where that hammer will fall first though I cannot say - and I suppose neither can the wisest."

Silence crept amongst them to gnaw at their gaiety. A fleeting thought crossed Thranduils mind and before he could truly finish it his lips spoke the words;

"Why did you allow Annatar into these walls even in spite of Gil-Galad and Galadriels council?"

Celebrimbor startled, sitting hurriedly with shock and dismay clear upon his face. Thranduil did not move, nor did he look at his host. He had not intended to ask in such a brusque manner yet now his thoughts were in the air - better for him to leave them there than dare the futility of attempting to recant them. To his surprise after a moment Celebrimbors face relaxed, the furious grimace turning to a rueful smirk. He gave a soft laugh and said:

"I do not know...for it seemed to me then that their council was in haste - tainted perhaps by their pride; for neither bear great love for the dictates of the West or for emissaries of the Valar. Yet now I wonder if it was perhaps not I who was too hasty and that perhaps I have left wise advice unheeded."

Sinking back into his cushions, silver eyes toward the lofty ceiling Celebrimbor sighed. Thranduil regarded his friend a moment and an unease settled into his mind. For the elf-lord looked troubled by deep woes and worn beyond measure. "I wonder though." Celebrimbor said suddenly. "How do you find him?"

"Me?" Thranduil sputtered, nearly spilling his wine. Recovering swiftly he took a long drought in a bid for time as he thought, hoping that the sweetly floral drink would grant his tongue the gift of tact for one small moment. For in truth Thranduil had not yet altogether determined that question for himself - and though he had yet to find out the truth of Annatars hidden nature he nonetheless could not bring himself to trust the maia. Still, Celebrimbors imploring look squashed any hope of holding off the question for any longer.

"When...I first met Annatar I was...surprised." Thranduil spoke slowly, his mind checking each word carefully before it was uttered. "I felt wary, though I suppose that is too light a word. To be honest I felt terribly afraid of him but I did not know the reason. I feared what he may be capable of, and of what he might be. I am no stranger to maia, yet he struck me as different from his kindred from Aman and that troubled me greatly." Thranduil nodded to himself then and without thinking his hand slowly moved to gently touch is cheek, strange and conflicting feelings of trust and apprehension swirling through him until he hardly knew what emotion he should be naming at all. "Yet...he truly does give 'gifts' if asked and still..." Here Thranduil faltered in his thought, for he knew not how to continue. There was no need however; as Celebrimbor picked up the fallen threads of his thought and completed them.

"...there is always a price." Celebrimbor spoke, and his countenance was sad as he regarded his wine. "Yes. I know well enough that nothing does Annatar give completely freely; for...conditions...are always attached. Perhaps this is why he was mistrusted. But what artisan does not ask a fee for work well wrought?"

Thranduil did not answer, but sat in silence.

Payment for work well wrought? And what is the price of a mind made whole?

Silence descended again in the hall and for a while they emptied and refilled their glasses to the sound of the autumn night.

"Ha."

Thranduil raised a prominent eyebrow towards his host who smiled wistfully. Celebrimbor only shrugged with a grin upon his face, dark unbound hair trailing over his shoulders.

"I suppose I should sent something nice to Artanáro. I've been neglecting him of late!"

"Artanáro?"

"Gil- Galad." Celebrimbor laughed softly, absently bouncing his crossed legs. "Often I would sent him gifts in the past; for he is still my King, to whom I am bound. But family he is as well, so formal terms suit us not. It would reassure him."

"Is not the way to Lindon long from here?" Thranduil mused. "Who will you send?"

"Elrond. He will be returning on the morrow."

"Already?" Thranduil cried with dismay. "Ai...it seems that so many good things end far too soon! It is a curse of this world, the shortness of that which is enjoyable, like the blooming spring..."

"Or the life of a Ñoldorin king."

Thranduil stared at his host with mouth agape yet Celebrimbor simply waved the words away.

"I apologize, that was unexpectedly grim of me. Too much wine makes one prone to melancholy."

"I suppose so, yet you would not have spoken it if it were not on your mind already."

Celebrimbor sighed. Pulling himself up, Thranduil scooted closer to the other elf, doing his best to keep his balance against the effects of the potent vintage coursing through him. When he was close enough to look Celebrimbor in the face he laid a gentle hand on the Noldo's shoulder, catching the wearied lords eyes with his own.

"I know little concerning your kin. But something about the Kingship bothers you does it not? We have not known each other long, I know. However; if speaking eases your mind then I am here to listen."

"I'm so sorry to have dragged you into all this." Celebrimbor spoke in a choked whisper. "I fear things have been set into motion beyond my control."

Thranduils gaze became intense as his own mind raced with unspoken shadows of things that may yet be. "And what do you fear?"

Celebrimbor swallowed, barely daring to speak for a moment until at last he said: "I do not know. I know not why I am afraid. Yet I am. And I fear for myself, for Gil-Galad and for even Elrond. You say you know little of my kin - well know this: that we are cursed by the very powers of the west. We have come here under curse and dwell here with it. All we do is infected with the disease of the fell deeds we have committed. We betray and are betrayed, and war follows hard on our heels even where we would sow peace. And of our line of Kings..."

Here he laughed and it was cold and terrible. "Our kings...they fall into darkness. Such is our doom."

"Gil-Galad." Thranduil whispered. "You fear he will also fall."

"And his successor. Whoever that may yet be. Though now there are only two who may fulfill that role; and I love Elrond as a true nephew...I would not wish that curse upon him even if it meant my end."

"You speak with finality-" Thranduil challenged, shaking his head. "Do not borrow trouble! What reason do you have to think that the reign of all the kings of the Ñoldor must end in sorrow?"

Wonder shown upon Celebrimbors face then. "You truly...know little of my kin." With a deep breath he began. "Our first king was Finwë - my great grandfather. Slain he was, the first in all Aman before the door of his own home by Morgoth."

Thranduils face fell, for he now sensed the weight of the curse on the house of Finwë.

"Our second King was my Grandfather - Fëanor, who in his madness challenged the Valar in their own land and led our people the Ñoldor from our long home. He was felled in battle by Gothmog himself, Lord of the enemies Balrogs. His son Maedhros was eldest and took the crown, yet scarcely had he donned it when he was captured by the enemy and tormented cruelly."

Celebrimbor paused a moment and held his head in his hands at the memory. "I...no one could fathom it...what must have been done to my uncle in that hellish place. He wasn't the same - he was never the same after that."

For a long while he remained silent before his voice issued forth again.

"To Fingolfin, brother of my grandfather he gave the crown. Fingolfin who rode into single battle with the dark lord and was slain by his hand - the second of my family killed by the hand of Morgoth himself. Fingon suffered no less fate, slain by Balrogs on the field of battle." Celebrimbors fingers absently tightened around the braids that fell alongside either ear and in the glinting candlelight around them Thranduil could see the smallest clasps of gold, nearly hidden in the dark locks.

"He...used to braid my hair when I was little...he was a kind soul..."

With one knee pulled to his chest Celebrimbor grew quiet again, head bowed forward as memory wrenched at his heart. Around his shoulders rested Thranduils arm and a long time they sat that way. "Turgon in his gleaming city that you know well."

Thranduil raised his head suddenly and a grunt of sorts issued from Celebrimbors throat. "I wish I had known you then as I know you now...the years might have been easier to bear. Yes...I vaguely remember being told stories of some bold little Sindarin elf who challenged Turgons patience and won his respect."

A slight fleeting smile crossed his face then but soon faded back into a pained grimace. "I...could talk to Turgon for hours...but as you know well what happened when the hidden city was revealed to the enemy. After that the crown fell to Gil-Galad and that is why I fear for him, what fell fate awaits my dear cousin?"

"It is sad to hear it. But did you not have a king that lived, though he surrendered the throne?"

"Maedhros threw himself into a fiery chasm of the earth and so perished."

Thranduil sat, his mouth dry and mind reeling from the sudden realization that his friends worry was no idle phobia - for not a single member of his house, once made king, escaped the fate lain before them.

"And...should some terror befall him...who is left?"

With a shuddering breath Celebrimbor whispered. "Elrond is the son of Earendil, son of Idril of Gondolin, daughter of the High King Turgon. He may yet lay claim to the throne if he so desired, though fortunately I deem he has no such will to do so."

"Then..."

"It would be me if none else vie for it."

Thranduil took a deep breath. "My friend we are in a time of peace," he spoke with hopeful reassurance.

"Yet it seems the fires of Mordor slumber no more." Celebrimbor whispered. "And now you know of my lines peculiar curse, that our Kings' most common cause of demise is 'death by dark lord'. I do not need to bear the gift of foresight to know where the road leads."

Unbearable fear tore at Thranduil and he spun, grasping Celebrimbors face firmly in his hands. Deep into those fearful eyes he looked and with all the resolve he possessed spoke; "Listen to me - you will not suffer the fate of your forefathers. You are strong and noble. I bid you, please, fight with everything you have - and at need I will fight beside you. I will not abandon you to the fickle fate of this world."

"Thranduil..." Celebrimbor spoke, taking the princes hands. "My heart is glad for your concern - I don't think I've had a greater friend. Yet if it comes to that do not come for me - do not stand between the dark lord and his prey, you would only perish as well."

"I would rather that, then live the ages as the coward I would be if I did not come to the aid of one I called friend!" Thranduil countered vehemently, his eyes shining in the candlelight. "My life is not so important to me that I would forsake all bonds of fellowship to spare it; for without my friends and family it would be lost and hollow all the same."

Though Celebrimbor smiled, a spark of gratitude in his eyes he said only. "I thank you, but it would be a fools errand at best - or more likely suicide."

"Well..." Thranduil turned aside, flushing with sudden embarrassment. "We should not need to think such heavy thoughts now...it's not like you plan on picking a fight with a dark lord anytime soon."

And when Celebrimbor didn't answer he added, "-are you?"

"What? No!" The elf coughed in astonishment. "And be known as 'that idiot who picked a fight with Sauron?' No thank you, there are less idiotic ways to die!"

Thranduil laughed. "Though not less brave."

"Well...bravery is one thing. Stupid is another. And what makes you think I would start the fight anyway?"

"You wouldn't?" Thranduil replied in mock surprise and Celebrimbor pushed him over onto a mound of previously vacant pillows.

"I wouldn't! At least not without good reason...ai! I suppose that's my lineage speaking again though..."

Thranduil sighed and ran a hand through his pale hair as he righted himself, noting Celebrimbors pensive mood again.

"Being known as 'the family perpetually perturbing evil' is not a bad thing my friend." The young prince noted. "When you think of it...it means that you worry him. You worry the Dark Lord. Bauglir was fearful enough of your grandfather that he would not meet him in battle. He feared your uncles so much that he went to every length to destroy them. A Vala who is named as 'strongest'."

He nudged Celebrimbors side. "That's not a bad legacy to live up to, mere children of Ilúvater making a Valar quake in his hole in the ground."

Now Celebrimbor laughed again. "No. It's not a bad legacy at all."

Thranduil nodded approvingly at the change of atmosphere; the sudden gloom melting away into good-natured banter once more. "Besides, I will come to you, and Elrond, and Gil-Galad. And I can't imagine Celeborn and Galadriel will be idle either."

"You know...I don't even know if Celeborn can fight. She might stay behind to protect him."

"Pfft. The eyes of Lady Galadriel must be sharp, for what she sees in Celeborn no one else can."

The wine Celebrimbor had been sipping now spilled ungracefully down his chin as he fiercely clamped down a snort of laughter. Wide-eyed he regarded his friend with wonder but Thranduil only tilted his head with only the slightest drunken wobble.

"He doesn't do anything."

Their laughter echoed down the long halls as they stumbled along, arms slung over one another's shoulders for mutual balance. Celebrimbor had insisted on showing Thranduil his latest gift for the Lady of Light - a delicate pendant of silver wings and an enchanted jewel made to issue forth the spring.

"She misses the land that does not fade...though she will not say it." Celebrimbor had told him softly.

Thranduil felt a pull at his own heart, for his mind now turned to the beautiful maid he had so far only caught fleeting glimpses of; one who seemed so cold to him. "I have no great skill of craft...nothing that I can make that would be a suitable gift."

Celebrimbor shrugged. "Many are fond of flowers. It might be a start."

A wild grin spread across Thranduils face. "Ah. I wonder, would you like to see something interesting?"

It took no persuasion. Toddling drunkenly along they made their way into the wide gardens surrounding the main house and there after a little searching Thranduil found what he searched for. Nestled forlorn and bare among stately maples and oaks in their fall finery of fiery color Thranduil found a small unassuming weeping cherry. Thranduil strode boldly to the tree with a mischievous smirk. Lightly he laid his hands upon the smooth striped bark and a deep breath he took.

Then he began to sing. A song of water and earth and wind, of calling swallows and nightingales and the first steps of fawns in their hidden bowers. A song of spring Thranduil issued into the autumn night; even as the dry dead leaves of the year rustled and fell about him and sped crackling across the lawn with the first of winters chill winds. Though no change could be seen at first, slowly a pale green light issued from the branches and ran twisting along their lengths in filigree patterns that coiled and wove themselves together. Into the tips that that pooled and spilled forth from the ends of the branches themselves until all the tree sprouted in a halo of green light. Then into that light bloomed a profusion of pale pink and the blossoms budded and opened in a wave upon every limb. The boughs bowed with their weight and the scent of them lingered heavy and sweet in the air. Celebrimbor stood amazed at the sight, for Thranduil through song had beckoned the spring.

"This...is beyond the work of any forge or any craft of hand...but this is the enchantment of the maiar!"

Thranduil smiled up at the tree in pride, stroking the smooth bark with tender affection. "I learned this from Melian in the days of my youth. It is a spell of not only growth but warding from evil venom that lurks in the earth and lingers in spoiled airs. Yet, this is not the right season for growth - in a day or so it will return to its slumber. My father never underwent tutelage under Melian so he does not know of this craft; yet I was an ardent student of the great lady of Doriath. When our people - the Silvans - learned of it they were in shock, and bade me to welcome the spring with song every year. This was merged with the dances passed down among the Silvans before our coming into the land. Every year for the Gates of Spring, I dance and sing to issue in the bloom to Eryn Galen."

Here he smiled. "Perhaps one day you can join us there?"

Celebrimbor nodded enthusiastically. "I would most enjoy it!" Yet he wobbled as he offered a slight bow. "Yet it seems I have been over-long in returning to my bed!"

Dutifully Thranduil led his host back to his quarters, deposited his already half-dozing form on his bed, and started the long walk back toward the eastern wing where his own down filled bed beckoned. As he walked he hummed along at first, but as Thranduil passed back along wide tree-filled boulevards in the gardens he broke forth in song. The moon was high and a wind blew through the trees - pleasant and cool against the wine-warmed skin of his face. Long had it been since such ease and fellowship found him. High-spirited he bounded down the path with a song on his lips, and though he did not notice it about him flowers bloomed as he sang and the trees chimed with hearty notes, glowing with vibrant floral light.

Singing in laughter Thranduil turned the corner toward the East wing, heedless of the blossoming trees he left in his wake. Before him was a short stair that led to a flat courtyard before splitting to either side with cobblestone paths that stretched both east and west. Down those stairs he began; yet on the third his foot slipped. He tried to catch his balance and yet still forward he fell. Thranduil closed his eyes. Suddenly his body collided with something and strong arms wrapped about him tightly, though the one who caught him reeled back several steps from the force. Thranduils own arms were thrown over his catchers shoulders, holding close for balance. In his chest the elves heart pounded and his head spun with excitement and fear. Pale blond hair thrown over his head, Thranduil sputtered a slightly slurred apology as he ran his fingers through the long locks, pulling them back from his face even as he lifted his head.

Yet what visage he might have expected to greet him did not appear. Close and vibrant, fathomless golden eyes peered into his own with startling familiarity that drove the breath from his lungs. Bathed in pale blue moonlight the golden-red tresses were no less identifiable. As Thranduil stared up into Annatars face the distance between them seemed all too close.

The maia laughed softly, yet there was an accusing light in his eyes as he whispered silkily, "How careless of you Thranduil."

From Thranduil there was no reply for he could only stare in wonder and fear as the words of that night echoed in his mind. He gently tried to pull away, removing his arms from Annatars shoulders. Yet Annatars grip did not lessen. Instead the maia granted him an insincere smile and with one hand lightly touched his chin. "So, to our arrangement have you given any further thought?"

With those words dread swelled within Thranduils gut, and it seemed that all his fears were rekindled threefold.

...there is always a price.

Authors Note:

ERMAFEKNGEEEEERDDDDDDDD!

I think I just hit myself with a feels-train...not cool...Just when you think it's getting better it gets worse. T . T

Also, I seem to have figured out that formating issue. I'll try to flesh out the side characters a little more in the future as they are kind of important to the plot, so we'll see how that goes. I really hadn't meant for Celebrimbor to go on a tear-filled rant about his family but there was wine involved and drunk Tyelpë is unpredictable at best...*sigh*

Thanks for Reading!

( Knowing people like this fic makes me do a dance of gratitude. )

- 7.17.2015 spellcheck ahoy!