Of One Unswayed by Shadow

Chapter 2

"Only in Eregion, which Men called Hollin, did Elves of Noldorin race establish a lasting realm beyond the Ered Luin...In Eregion the craftsmen of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the People of the Jewel-smiths, surpassed in cunning all that have ever wrought, save only Feänor himself; and indeed greatest in skill among them was Celebrimbor, son of Curufin..."

–J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, p. 286

     The next morning, Celebrimbor walked into the meeting hall, dressed cleanly in a blue tunic and dark pants. His hair was done simply, and he wore curling silver jewellery that sparkled with dark blue gems, three rings glimmering on his fingers. The dark cape that trailed from his shoulders rippled behind him, and his spotless black boots sounded smartly on the stone floor. The light of dawn glimmered through the arching windows, the hue of the sky mirrored in Celebrimbor's tunic. A few others sat in the hall, and they turned towards him as he entered.
     "Master Celebrimbor!" said one heartily, and all rose and bowed as he neared. Celebrimbor smiled in return, grasping the elf's outstretched hand in friendship. "We were quite lacking without you yesterday," continued the elf, "I had many inquire after your whereabouts."
     "I thank you, Master Badhron," said Celebrimbor, his grey eyes sparkling, "I was sad to miss it; but I wished to keep on schedule with my work."
     "Yet there is no harm in planning the holiday into your schedule, is there not?" said Badhron with a sly smile. He was the largest there, and his tall frame and broad shoulders took up the full breadth of his carven chair. His black hair was done in a long braid over his shoulder, and its golden fastening matched the rich jewellery adorning his chest. His dark green tunics were edged with gold, and his great wealth was shown in the four large gemstones glimmering upon his fingers. Yet his large hands were roughened with work, and though his dark eyes sparkled with mirth, his tunics hid battle scars given by long years of hardship.
      Celebrimbor smiled and shook his head as he walked to his seat. "I merely wished to finish the commissioned wares for the court of the High King," he said mildly, "I was quite aware of the holiday." All seated themselves, and Celebrimbor adjusted himself in his tall chair at the head of the table.
     "In truth, we were discussing the shipment of your project, among others," said one of the other elves, gesturing to the table. "I did not know if the rest of the High King's order, save your portion, would be ready on time."
     "It should be, if all goes as planned," said Badhron easily. He motioned across the table to the other elf who spoke. "Master Nimbreth has already finished the jewellery commissioned from him," continued Badhron.
     Nimbreth nodded from across the table. "I merely have to fashion the boxes to hold the pieces," he said, "and if all goes well, everything of mine should be packed and ready before the next week."
     "That is good," said Celebrimbor, smiling at Nimbreth, who nodded his thanks. Nimbreth's Nargothrondian roots were clearly evident in his raiment, embroidered silver leaves winding around the neckline of his purple tunic. His dark cape, patterned with painted flowers, was worn over one shoulder in Noldorin fashion, and the star of the House of Finarfin adorned his brow, his brown hair twisted and pinned with fine gems. He was as tall and slender as a birch tree, and his fingers were laced upon the table like twined vines.
     "I do not know how you finished your projects so quickly," sighed another of the elves, who passed a hand over his eyes, "I can never seem to stick to my schedule."
     "Aiya, Master Tawaren," sighed Badhron good-naturedly, "perhaps you are the one who needs the extra night of work, rather than staying by the banquet tables all night!"
     Tawaren raised his hands in defence as the rest of the table chuckled. "I can only have food like this once a year!" he said, "And besides, I have had too many years without much to eat."
     "And trust me when I say you have certainly made up for them," said Badhron, winking at him, "When your wife is away, it seems you must have other supervision!"
     "We must look after our youngest member, do we not?" added Celebrimbor.
     Tawaren sighed and shook his head good-naturedly, and his flushed cheeks rounded in a ready smile. He was used to the jests, and though he was the youngest of the group by a mere few hundred years, he did not mind the light teasing. His reddish-brown hair was curled in ringlets over his slim shoulders, and his red and cream garments were painted with branches. He had already rolled his shirt up around his elbows in preparation for work, and golden bracelets adorned his wrists.
     "It is refreshing to have one put normal comforts before their work, I must admit," said Nimbreth as voices echoed from outside the hall.
     "I suppose that is a rather rare occurrence among us," said Celebrimbor. All smiled as they looked to the entrance of the great hall, and after a moment, in strode another handful of elves, talking and laughing. Celebrimbor smiled to himself at their liveliness; he had thought that after such a late night, they would be more subdued. Yet it was not so, and greetings were passed around as the newcomers seated themselves.
     "I had thought that the rest were here!" said Badhron, "Yet still we are lacking. Did they sleep past dawn?"
     Another of the elves shook his head. "No, Master Badhron," he said, "they are close behind us." Tuilinn, who had entered with the others, gave Celebrimbor an amiable nod from down the table. And sure enough in the next moment two more elves strode into the hall, their heads bent in conversation. They, too, smiled as they found their seats, and were greeted by the other elves.
     "We were beginning to think you would be late," quipped Tuilinn, casting a glance to the elf who sat down in the empty chair beside him. The one he spoke to, Thalion, laughed, and shook his head as he pulled his chair up to the table.
     "No, I would not be late for any of these meetings," he said, reaching over to give Tuilinn a teasing punch on the shoulder.
      "Just as you would not be late for battle?" replied Tuilinn.
     "Just so," said Thalion with a smile, "and sometimes they are one and the same."
     "I would drink to that!" said another, leaning across the table, "If only we saved some of the wine from last night."
     "I do not know if it would be wise to drink this early, Master Ethuil," said Celebrimbor wisely, his eyes twinkling.
     "And before work?" added Nimbreth, tilting his head.
     "Oh, we have all drunk or not drunk during and for much worse things," sighed Findegil, the elf who had entered with Thalion.
    "So let us make up for that now!" said Tuilinn brightly. Tawaren leaned across the table towards him.
     "That is what I said!" he said brightly, and the two younger elves grinned at each other. Celebrimbor glanced to the door as another elf entered the hall, and with relief he saw that there was now only one chair left to be filled.
     "Where is Master Agarwaen?" said Celebrimbor, the others pausing in their conversation to look towards him. "I trust he was not missed last night."
The elf seated at Celebrimbor's right shook his head.
      "No, he dined with us," said the elf, Mirluin. "Though after that I knew not where he went."
      "I believe I saw him near the stables, with his wife," said the elf who had just arrived, Celethor. He waved a hand. "I would not be surprised if they went out riding."
     "Indeed," said a new voice, and in strode the last of the group. He was dressed in his customary blacks and greys, with sparse yet expensive silver jewellery. "I apologise for my lateness," said Agarwaen as he pulled out his chair and sank down within it, "my wife and I spent much of our time riding through the forest last night and I am afraid we returned rather late. I must admit I was rather inspired by a particular pattern of the moonlight through the branches of the trees, and so I avoided sleep until I sketched out the pattern."
       "I beg your pardon, Master Agarwaen," said Badhron, his brown darkening somewhat with concern, "but is that entirely safe? We do not know if the orcs are wholly purged from these lands." Others nodded in agreement, Agarwaen among them.
     "Indeed, Master Badhron, we do not know that," replied Agarwaen, "and so we were accompanied by our weapons. However, the summer moon gives us great protection, and there had been none spotted there for quite some time. I assure you, we took precautions," said Agarwaen, looking towards Celebrimbor, who nodded.
     "I have no doubt of your caution," said Celebrimbor. He glanced around the seated elves to see that all were quiet and looking to him, and he rose. The rest of the elves followed, and Celebrimbor placed his hands on the table.
    "Well," he said, more to himself than anyone. Pulling himself out of his thoughts of his work, he directed his clear gaze about the table. "Here begins the assembly of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, on this, the 37th day of the season of Lairë, in the Yén of 8. I now bring us to order." Once again he seated himself, and the others mirrored him. "Master Harthamir, will you begin, please."
     The elf he spoke to nodded, shuffling the papers he brought with him. "Yes, Master Celebrimbor," said Harthamir, spreading his hand. "We have not much to cover today. The feast last night proceeded very well, and no orcs were sighted, nor were there any incidents of note. Ah...I trust the order for the High King is nearly completed?"
       Some nodded enthusiastically while others looked rather nervous, but Badhron spoke for them all. "It will be ready on time," he said, and nods confirmed his statement. Harthamir glanced to Celebrimbor, wondering if he may want to pursue the subject, but Celebrimbor merely nodded for him to proceed. Harthamir smiled slightly to show his understanding, then turned back to his papers.
     "All is in order before the trip to Moria," he said, "and for my records, it is Masters Celebrimbor, Celethor, Agarwaen, Ethuil, and Mirluin departing this time, is that correct?"
     "It is," said Celebrimbor, remembering the darkened halls ringing with the comforting sound of the forges. How good it would be to return!
     "Very good," said Harthamir, taking up his quill to make a mark upon the paper. "And need I remind you, your crafts for the High King must be ready before you depart," he said, pointing his quill at those in question, who smiled and nodded. "Ah...we will need to turn our attention to forging and repairing weapons in preparation for the winter, and the upsurgence in orcs—"
     "Though we would rather be forging other things," whispered Tawaren.
     "—and the letters to the harbour of the Númenóreans have been sent. I believe that is all of the matters of state we must cover. Concerning more personal matters, I believe we must congratulate Master Tuilinn on beginning the selection of his first apprentice!" This solicited a round of applause from the table, and Tuilinn smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly with pride.
     "I will admit, I may need some aid," he admitted, "and I am afraid I will have to call on you, Master Badhron, for you have the most experience out of us all!"
     "At present, perhaps," said Badhron, "but a thriving business now and only three previous apprentices does not mean I have the wealth of knowledge!"
      "You would not forget to call upon our old master, would you not?" said Findegil good-naturedly, gesturing towards Celebrimbor, who smiled demurely.
     "Yes, Master Tuilinn, you would not forget that," said Celebrimbor, teasingly looking down his nose at the younger elf.
    Tullinn laughed, shaking his head, and Celebrimbor looked at Harthamir. "Is there anything else of which we should be aware?" Interestingly, he noticed a servant enter the hall, bearing a note as the Mírdain quieted and Harthamir glanced over his notes again.
    "I believe that is all," said Harthamir, "All of us here know of the steps we must take to prepare for the winter, and this trip to Moria is one of the final ones before the snow sets in, so we must be careful to make each journey count." He fell silent as the servant stepped to Celebrimbor's side, whispering something to him as he took the letter. Celebrimbor nodded and thanked him, then broke the seal as the servant departed. They watched him carefully as his brow creased and his mouth became set, and a slight tension grew in the air.
    "What is it, Master Celebrimbor?" said Heledh quietly.
    Celebrimbor sighed, then folded the letter and placed it upon the table, his expression grave. "The Lady Galadriel is returning for the winter," he said rather grimly.
    The Mírdain let out a disappointed sigh. "Can she not stay in Lindon this year?" said Thalion, "for I cannot take more militancy. It is hard enough to keep our borders clear without another leaning over me."
    "Will she not turn her attention more towards Lóriand?" said Nimbreth somewhat hopefully. "Her interest was certainly turned more towards there the last time she stayed."
    "I hope it is," sighed Agarwaen darkly, "for she always finds something to criticise. She is not the only one who has studied under Aulë himself, is that not right? We have two who have studied long with him!" He gestured towards Mirluin and Celebrimbor, and dissident murmurs echoed across the table; but they fell silent as Celebrimbor raised his hand.
    "I realise we often have...strife...with the ruler of this city," he said slowly, but Tawaren interrupted.
    "But you are truly the leader!" he said, his mouth set stubbornly, "She leads only in name, and when she sees something that displeases her!"
    Once again Celebrimbor raised his hand, and Tawaren quieted. "I know how difficult it may be sometimes," he continued, "but we cannot forget to treat with her the respect she deserves. You know as well as I of her great power and knowledge, and she does what she believes to be best, though it may push us the wrong way. We must at least respect her and her intentions, and carry out her orders as she wishes. Understood?" he finished, but there was only gentle command in his tone. Reluctantly, the Mírdain nodded. "I thank you," said Celebrimbor quietly. "It is best we begin to prepare for her and her husband's arrival as soon as we can. Take time to enjoy your present routine, and bask in summer while it lasts." He cast a questioning glance to Harthamir, asking whether the meeting could be closed, and received a confirming nod in return.
    "Very well, then," said Celebrimbor, the jovial mood somewhat dimmed, but he sighed and shook himself slightly. "Let us turn our thoughts to Moria, those that are departing, and do not forget the works for the High King!" A slight chuckle swept through the Mírdain, and as their thoughts turned to their work, they brightened to laugh as before. Feeling the mood lighten, Celebrimbor rose, and the rest of the table followed suit.
    "Then I close this meeting, and best of wishes to you all today," finished Celebrimbor, and the elves bowed respectfully before turning to their own conversations. Each gave him a nod before they departed, but a few hung back, speaking amongst themselves.
    "Master Celebrimbor," said FIndegil, one of those who lingered, "Will you be in your workspace today, or in the main forges?"
    "Both, most likely," said Celebrimbor, "I have a few things to finish in my own studio, but I will need the fires later to begin some wire."
    Findegil nodded. "I shall be joining you," he said with a smile, "and Celebrimbor..." he pursed his lips in thought. "I do not envy you in your dealings with Lady Galadriel, but I wish to thank you for your position. Some here are far too outspoken in their displeasure," he said with a rueful smile, "and thank you for your temperance and your level leadership."
    "You are most welcome," said Celebrimbor, "even when you were still my apprentice I admired your moderacy, and I thank you for it now. Now, let us turn our minds to other things, shall we not?"
    Findegil chuckled slightly. "Gladly, Master Celebrimbor." He tilted his head in a short bow. "I will see you later."
    "Yes," said Celebrimbor, nodding to the few who lingered. He departed for his rooms, ready to change and return to his work. The concerns of the kingdom were swept from his mind as his thoughts turned to the half-finished pitcher, and the jewellery that waited, unmade, in ingots of silver and gold. Already he had chosen jewels for the pieces, but first, he would continue in his guidance of the silver pitcher, carefully shaping the fluted spout...