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Meanwhile back at the palace…

                                        Hrassa and Celeborn’s reunion continues next chapter

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Chapter Four – A Lordly Hunt

Celebrimbor rushed out of his rooms still shrugging into his most elegant short coat and roughly pulling down the sleeves.  He was intent on completing one last task in a long day of catching up on his neglected duties as liaison to the High King and the Council.  It irked him that to get it done he had had to don court clothes rather than walk out in an everyday tunic and apron.  The only good thing for this having been an ‘office’ day and not a day well-spent in the workshops was that he had not been delayed even more by needing to bathe before changing.

It also irked him that during formal affairs there was too much traffic from the kitchens and the service wing to use the back hallways where he could have stayed out of sight.  That was his preferred route even when, despite the occasional crowd, the quickest way to traverse the length of the palace to Celeborn’s chambers was the main gallery.  But now, as late starting out as he was, his preference was beside the point.  Most likely, Celeborn was already amidst this evening’s guests and Galadriel would be unbearable if he implied any disrespect towards her lord husband by not bothering to dress appropriately for a meeting in public.

His frown quirked into a crooked grin, albeit short-lived.  Actually, he did not mind Galadriel keeping him in line.  With a lifetime of examples to study close at hand, he knew he lacked the will to act like a ruling lord and probably always would.  Yet for all his great affection for her, at times he wished the Lady was still in Lothlórien for then these necessary fêtings would still be the relaxed affairs he had previously enjoyed attending.  Regardless, having to dress up was irritating when all he needed was fifteen minutes with Celeborn.  For the moment though, he was driven by the thought that if he got this one, small thing out of the way, he might set aside his governing duties for more than a few days – and be able to concentrate on his real work.

The regular dispatch from Gil-galad was no worry, just the usual, ongoing judiciary vagaries and not urgent in any sense.  Something easily passed along by his secretary to Celeborn’s.  However, the accompanying letter from Elrond needed surer attention.  Their little triumvirate was stepping on the wrong toes again it seemed.  He could use Celeborn’s help in quelling the complaint before it reached the Council’s sensitive ears, forcing that august congress to react.  The whole matter was simply one more of many bothersome clashes with whiny bourgeoisie.  But, he told himself, recalling some of Celeborn’s more lightsome remarks, bourgeoisie with clout.  “Worse than wealthy dwarves” was what the Lord had said with gross disregard for whoever might overhear him.  Celebrimbor certainly if silently agreed. 

His lips compressed in displeasure as he quickly strode down the balconied hallway, arms swinging.  Where once he had beheld the decor with pride, he no longer cared to even notice the ornate doors and balustrade of the upper floors.  Less than a decade in place, they were already pitiably old-fashioned and an eyesore.  The future, more magnificent palace filled his vision now.  That was to be a dwelling worthy of his art and race.

Galadriel had expressed the desired result to be ‘eternally sustaining’, an unchanging aesthetic that would draw diverse peoples together to consort in peace within the secure walls of their city.  Enthused by excellent mead and memories of the innovations that had glorified Gondolin and Nargothrond, he had gallantly sworn to her that he would make it so.  Ost-in-Edhil would defy its martial name, overcome its history and eclipse the staid cities of Lindon.  Celeborn had simply raised his cup to that goal.  But, Galadriel had taken up Celebrimbor’s enthusiasm and further declared that what they had barely begun would evolve into a timeless pinnacle of Eldarin culture whose beauty and tranquility would unify the hearts of all the peoples of Ennor

He laughed aloud remembering that drunken discussion.  What hubris!  A prerogative that belongs only to true genius.  So naught to fear that he or Celeborn would ever fall prey to it.  Nor Galadriel if Celeborn kept up his penchant for sarcasm.  “So, my lady, it shall be by the chisel and brush, not the sword and pen, that justice and mercy are preserved and order maintained throughout the civilized world?  My thanks to you for such glad tidings ‘cause then, upon Valaroma, I’m going fishing.”  However he might speak, in action his fellow prince was reliably pragmatic.  One could always count on Celeborn to straighten things out. 

If asked nicely, Celebrimbor was sure that his old friend would connive a plan to take care of the current upset involving those mithril-bloated merchants much more quickly then any he could think up alone.  In addition - and indeed the greater reason for talking face to face - he might convince him to carry out the task himself just for the fun it might afford.  And so, Celebrimbor would have one less, time-consuming job to do.  That was if the Lord was in a good mood.  Of late, everyone seemed cheerless – including himself.  That ends tonight, he resolved smiling.  The times had so improved in this past year that any sort of gloom was no longer warranted.

However, on reaching the stairs leading down to the rear foyer of the palace, his supposedly resolute smile slipped a little.  There were noticeably few people present in the foyer, which meant the evening’s festivities had indeed already begun.  Only with luck would he catch the Lord before he began his obligatory attendance upon the Lady and escape having to stay there most of the night with her himself when he had better things to do.  Admittedly, he had come to hate Galadriel’s soirees upon the dais and how he was expected to perform for her guests.  The legerdemain he had once willingly demonstrated for enlightenment and amusement had become onerous.  Why Celeborn had stopped dancing was no mystery to him.

So on descending the stairs, he was pleased to spy his youngest aide, Aurthôn, standing attendance on his own aristocratic wife, Laerlínath.  She was an attractive elf-maid whose coloring Celebrimbor, rightfully within an artist’s purview, adjudged to represent her name quite nicely.

Like so many others, Aurthôn’s wife had joined her spouse but recently.  In fact, she had arrived only a week ago after a longer separation than most.  Easy to tell from how they acted when together.  Celebrimbor could not keep from grinning whenever he saw them.  It was surprising to him how much he liked Aurthôn and Laerlínath as a couple.  Perhaps even a little more than Galadriel and Celeborn.  But, then no one is worthy of her.  He always did enjoy the happiness of others as though it were his own.  Galadriel said it was this capacity that made him a better person than his father and grandfather.  The natural principle that great artists must suffer to become great, not find easy contentment in the ordinary, was his own joking excuse for not being a better smith than either.

He was still shaping an opinion of Laerlínath.  So far, she had seemed much like all the other ladies – pretty, polite, adequately educated, well-spoken, and ambitious for her children’s sake.  Though, the young couple had yet to start a family.  They had reasonably decided to wait until they were reunited permanently in their new country.  Finally meeting her after years of listening to Aurthôn’s pining, Celebrimbor felt certain they had some familial designs already in motion.  And he was glad for it.  The prospect of another niece or nephew for him to utterly spoil and then pass back to the poor parents to deal with entertained him immensely. 

Being a scribe and not a professional artist made Aurthôn an odd one for his family, which was probably the reason Celebrimbor had liked him right off.  He was the younger son of provincial nobility - in fact, an afar kinsman from an obscure branch of the family sprung from Celebrimbor’s departed elder sister.  With Celebrimbor being long estranged from most of his family since defying his father in Nargothrond, Aurthôn had been both surprised by and eager to accept his incredible offer of employment.  Young and adventurous, the ellon had claimed he was more than ready to face the dangers of settling Eregion.  There had been moments when Celebrimbor doubted the inexperienced clerk would come through, but Aurthôn continued to fulfill his assignments with few mistakes and had fortuitously survived the worst of it after all.

Celebrimbor was proud of his choosing this youth over the others he had considered.  If the intelligent, hard-working fellow kept on as he had been, he would become a good counselor someday.  On more than one occasion, Celeborn had advised Celebrimbor to invest some of his precious time in cultivating a counselor of his own.  Before now, he may have been able to rely on friends and colleagues, but if he ever again wished to work on his smith-craft untroubled, he must acquire a trusted counselor dedicated to his interests alone.  Celebrimbor was hopeful that Aurthôn would turn out to be that one.

But, that was as much in the future as the new palace.  Right now, if he was going to speak with Celeborn before his reliable old friend entered the great hall, he had best get his promising young aide to provide some aid.

Aurthôn was becoming a bit exasperated with his beloved as he listened to her going on and on about her plans.  She was sounding rash and somewhat carried away articulating her ambitions, not as thoughtful as she usually was.  This excited state coming over an impressed newcomer to the City was an all-too-familiar effect of the social freedom emigrants discovered.  Still, she was very attractive when passionate.  Watching her, he was finding it hard to force a halt to her rant.  Happily, it appeared she was coming to closure by herself and might now listen to his advice.

“I am determined, herven-nin!” she declared with affectionate ingenuousness.  “You may have a right to order me to stay behind, but absolutely none to stay in the background.  I am as ready as you to take my chances at a career.  I will have my own place in this court!”

“I condone your goal, guren,” he earnestly replied.  He took her hand between his, caressing it so that their wedding rings grazed against each other.  “All I am asking is that you take the time to learn more of the people with whom we now live.  Despite my letters, you seem yet naïve.  Not all the customs followed here are our own.  And you know not how malicious some people can be towards those whom they perceive as oppressors.”

She gave a rueful little laugh, one beautiful eyebrow raised.  “Do you mean the Úmanyar... or the Amanyar?” 

“Both,” he said helplessly smiling at her.  “And the Firimar.  I say again, the Galadhrim are unlike the grey-elves of our old homeland.  They won the peace and have a legitimate stake in the City’s prosperity.”  He fervently wished they were not standing in the middle of the foyer for all to see, but under the shadows of the surrounding arches where they might kiss uncensured.  Absconding there earlier might have kept Laerlínath’s thoughtlessly-voiced opinions from possible censure as well.  The resident court gossip would not have seen them and then maneuvered his wife into verbal indiscretion.  Nensûlos, you low-born... just you wait.  “Would you please just watch what you say from now on?  Do not trust or repeat any more of the gossip you hear – especially about our rulers.”  He squeezed her hand to halt a ready remark.  “Yes, melethril – rulers! – all three of them.  Accept things as they are and do not judge as is your habit.”

“Why ‘tis my moral duty as a lady!  Is there aught else you disapprove of me?”  Her challenging eyes suddenly looked past him, her engaging pout turning into a thin, polite smile.  “Lord Celebrimbor is coming straight for us.”  Her gaze returned to his face and she removed her hand from his.  “I will... consider... your advice, herven-nin.” 

Aurthôn sighed and turned to greet his employer.  The odds of spending an entire evening with his wife whether in agreement or argument had just fallen to none.  The master smith was relentless when he had a task in mind.  He would pursue it wherever it might lead and until done to his satisfaction.

“Aduial vaer, Lord Celebrimbor,” said Aurthôn when the prince came up to them.

“Aduial vaer, gwenyr,” Celebrimbor cheerfully replied. 

Aurthôn instantly became wary.  Not only was the master smith present at a formal event, but appropriately dressed and acting pleasant.  …and calling us ‘kin’?  

“Vinne, I need some help.”  Although, Celebrimbor using a familiar address had somehow become normal.  Exactly when that had happened, Aurthôn was not quite sure, but he could never bring himself to be so familiar in turn.

“How may I be of service, my lord?”  He shot Laerlínath a subtle warning look.  Let her be silent and so not aggravate him, he hoped without any real hope of that happening, and maybe I can convince him whatever this is can wait until tomorrow.  Of course, with the mood his wife was in, she ignored him and spoke.

“Please let me know if I too may be of assistance, Lord Celebrimbor.”  Aurthôn cringed inside, anticipating a reprimand.  He strove to keep a pleasant face. 

“Ah, lovely Lady Laerlínath,” said Celebrimbor with a broad smile.  He executed an elegant bow certain to impress any lady.  “I would never think to impose upon you yourself.  But, if you would be so generous as to relinquish your excellent husband into my hands for just an hour, I would be very grateful.”

To Aurthôn’s confusion, the lord had not reacted badly to his wife’s intrusion into his business, but appeared to be in genuine good humor.  For weeks, Celebrimbor had been disinclined to trade courtesies with anyone.  Could it be his oft offhanded employer liked Laerlínath?  More he feared that his very traditional wife would be taken aback by the master smith’s flirting with her as he was prone to do with any female, high or low, he found worthy of his notice.  But, Aurthôn was wrong again.

“Certainly, my lord.”  She also smiled in a most charming and open manner.  “If you might recompense me for the hour I am so sorely deprived with an hour of your own gracious company?” 

“How gracious of you, my lady!”  Then, Celebrimbor pointedly made no such promise, which Aurthôn knew disappointed Laerlínath.  The lord’s behavior must have encouraged, at least for a moment, one of her more fantastic ambitions - to be included in the royal social circle.  Something far beyond possible for a clerk’s wife.  “Come along Vinne,” ordered his employer.  “We are looking for Telpë.”

“Telpë?” questioned his lady.  This girlish tactic to keep them with her surprised him a little.  She knew perfectly well to whom the master smith was referring.  Flirting and now feigning ignorance like the silly ellith she had always criticized?  Well, she had said she was determined and now he was beginning to understand as to how much.  As her husband, he was obligated to lend her his support.  At least, until it became a problem to his career.  On any account, he would much rather stay with her a bit longer too and endeavor to return from the pending hunt with a prize for his mate.  So, instead of rushing through a reply and letting himself be taken off, he decided to play along and put on a show of spousal patience.

“Lord Celeborn,” he explained, donning a tolerant expression.  “Just as I am ‘Vinne’.  Though in the Lord’s case, it comes more from appearance than name.  However, only family call him that.  I do not think a search will take very long, guren.”  Blushing slightly from having slipped and used an endearment, he turned to Celebrimbor, who looked disconcertingly amused; eyes twinkling, holding his hands behind his back.  “I shall bring Lord Celeborn as quickly as possible, my lord.”  By returning here, he might be able to introduce his wife to the Lord for which he knew she would later show her deep appreciation.

“Nothing of the sort!” said Celebrimbor, sounding almost jovial.  It was obvious he knew exactly what Aurthôn was doing.  Fortunately, the prince was inexplicably amused by it.  “Cruise down the gallery and when you spot him, send a page to me and try to keep him out of the great hall.  I will be looking in the assembly rooms.  If he is nowhere to be found or already with Galadriel, come tell me yourself.  I will not need you after that.”

“Yes, my lord,” he responded, ready to abandon his wife since he would return to her at least before morning.  “I shall be back soon, my lady.”  First he, then Celebrimbor, sketched a bow to take leave of Laerlínath. 

They had barely started to turn away when his lady took a delicate pinch of Aurthôn’s sleeve behind the elbow to hold him back once more.  “My lords... !”  The master smith appeared to be holding back a laugh.  Aurthôn felt slightly embarrassed that his wife seemed so absurd.  

“Perhaps I might question the servers?” asked Laerlínath.  “What does the Lord care to drink?  Someone will have carried it to him or have orders.”  Aurthôn found himself smiling with pride at her smart suggestion.  From his changed expression, his employer would agree that the idea was a good one.

However, just as Celebrimbor started to reply, an excited shout cut him off.

TBC

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Author’s Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated and underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

Firimar – Mortals (Men), I am using this term for the humans living on the mainland instead of Atani or Edain; the inhabitants of Numenor being of a different breed

aduial vaer – Good Evening

guren – my heart

herven-nin – my husband

melethron/melethril – lover masc/fem

gwenyr – kin (plural of gwanur)