Missing them by Aprilertuile  

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Missing them

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Celebrimbor was sitting in front of his forge. For once, the forge was only softly lit, and not a flurry of activity.

Narvi was startled to see his friend just… Sitting there, on the floor, his head between his hands, a project abandoned on the floor, broken tools set perfectly in front of him.

“Celebrimbor?”

“Yes Narvi?” Came the _oh so tired_ answer.

“Is something… Wrong?” Narvi asked cautiously.

Elves were weird. Celebrimbor was usually the less weird of the lot of them, but still, he was an elf. Who knew what delicate subject of conversation Narvi could hit accidentally.

“I’m the worst being. Otherwise no, all is well. My project is an abject failure, I damaged a mold and three tools, and I realized that I’m the worst son ever born.”

“That…” Narvi stopped himself and shook his head. “That was a lot. First of all, why would you be the worst son ever born?”

Celebrimbor didn’t answer for a while, until he finally raised his head to look at Narvi:

“It’s stupid.” He said quietly.

“If it got you feeling terrible, it’s not stupid. What’s going on, Celebrimbor?” Narvi insisted.

Celebrimbor’s eyes fell back on the tools in front of him, and Narvi, following his gaze, found himself looking at the tools with curiosity.

“That’s your Mithril tools.” Narvi realized.

“Yes.” Celebrimbor answered.

“How?!”

“Age probably.” Celebrimbor said.

“Age?!” Narvi asked with a raised eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Those tools were made by my grand-father, for my father, in Valinor. They… They were made before my birth, they came with us to Beleriand and… When we lost Himlad during the Bragollach, dad was going to spend his evening in the forge as he often did. He was in his work gear. The irony of things, he had his tools at his belt, and so he evacuated our city, our home, with them, whereas I was in my rooms, going to sleep when it happened so I lost everything I had for tools and forge work.”

Narvi blinked. That was a lot of old history. He heard of the attacks Morgoth perpetrated against all the people of Beleriand but it was… Very old history.

“When we reached Nargothrond and had access to a forge again, we didn’t have Mithril at hand, and dad was busy taking care of his people and all. So he made himself tools, just standard metal, and he gifted me his tools. He said I’d have more use for them now than he did since he was busy leading our people and making sure… Well… When Nargothrond fell I had them on me, so they survived the fire with me, and again when we had to flee Beleriand to rebuild here in Endorë.”

Narvi remained silent, feeling his elven friend had more to say.

“My father was… The kinslayings were horrible. I mean… Alqualondë wasn’t planned. So far, no one knows who started to pull their weapons, or why. All we know is that it’s none of my uncle and I know for a fact that it wasn’t my father either. But once someone did, it was over, and everyone pulled their weapons on both sides. Ours were more efficient for war. It was an out of control mess. And we were all guilty of it, all of us Feanorians. And then there was the mess with Beren and Luthien and Nargothrond, and my father and uncle Tyelko’s behavior was beyond unacceptable, I know. But… But my father was a good father to me. He taught me well, with patience and kindness. And uncle Tyelko was my favorite uncle. He allowed me to hug a bear once, did you know? Dad almost had a nervous breakdown at that one.”

Narvi said nothing but his expression told Celebrimbor that he was rather on Curufin’s side in this particular story.

Celebrimbor snorted in amusement.

“I was in no danger with uncle Tyelko, not even with the Bear.”

“Elves.” Narvi grumbled, making Celebrimbor laugh quietly.

“I disowned myself after that mess in Nargothrond. I rejected them. I knew better. Their actions led to Finrod’s death, and we could have had problems with Doriath and they lost their moral senses there and… So many reasons that seemed good at the time.”

“Hm…”

“But no matter how good those reasons seemed, they were bad. And I miss them. And the tools broke and my dad died thinking I hated him and forgot everything good we ever lived together and… I’m a horrible son and the worst nephew. And now I have nothing left of my family. Of my dad.”

“No. First of all, you still have your memories of your family. That’s not nothing! Talk about them if you wish to. Mahal’s sake, boy! Any dwarf would enjoy hearing more about as famous a crafter as your father and grand-father were.”

“Elves would throw a fit!”

“Elrond.” Narvi said pointedly with a raised eyebrow, clearly daring Celebrimbor to argue the fact that Elrond would actually enjoy hearing stories about Maglor and Maedhros’ brothers.

“… Alright, any sane elf would throw a fit.” Celebrimbor corrected flatly, making Narvi cackle.

“Sanity is grossly overrated. So come on, tell me more about your father and favorite uncle. First of all, what on Eä made your uncle think it was a good idea to let you go hug a bear of all things?!”

“The bear was very friend-shaped.” Celebrimbor answered… and laughed at the utterly unimpressed look that Narvi threw him.

“No it’s… I was a child and uncle Carni, Caranthir as you’d know him, gifted me toys that he made himself. It was a hobby of his. So I had knitted tools, hammers and the likes, and knitted animals. The bear was my favorite at that time and bears just really do look huggable you know.”

The sound Narvi made was pure disbelief at what he was hearing.

Celebrimbor’s smile was teasing, if still sad.

“I knew dad would throw a fit, so I went straight up to uncle Tyelko to ask him if I could hug a bear. He had all sorts of animal friends you see. His favorite was of course Huan, his dog, but aside from Huan, it was a beautiful buck that he raised himself. He was devastated when it died one day, but… Uncle Tyelko always understood that death was a natural part of life. All Hunters of Oromë did. And so uncle Tyelko happened to know a friendly bear that he introduced me to. You should have seen my father’s face…”

“I agree with your father. Blessed Mahal!” Narvi spluttered.

Celebrimbor smiled wryly at that:

“Uncle Tyelko’s sense of danger was screwed. For him all animals were friends. He hunted dangerous shadowed creatures, and animals for food too. He enjoyed hunting, make no mistake, but he also very much enjoyed hearing all the gossip from the animal kingdom. I don't know how he chose which animal he wouldn't hunt and which he did for food, but he found a balance in that somehow. And animals in general wouldn’t have hurt him if they weren’t darkened unless he hunted them or was ‘particularly stupid with their babies’, his words, not mine. So he made no real difference between a bear and a pet rabbit.”

“A rabbit is less likely to tear off your head on accident.” Narvi said flatly.

Celebrimbor chuckled at that.

“True. That was also dad’s argument. He was furious. I was delighted of course, and decided on the spot that uncle Tyelko was the best uncle. Everyone loved Maedhros better but… He was a stick in the mud to my child self.”

“So you had a sane uncle and loved the crazy one. Sounds like a normal child, indeed.” Narvi snorted, amused.

“Eh… Dad threatened to refuse him the right to babysit me ever again, but in fact, uncle Tyelko remained my main babysitter. Despite the bear thing, dad trusted him. And dad raised me well. He taught me all he knew in the forge you know.”

“Oh?”

“Hm… Dad’s first love wasn’t jewelry, did you know? It wasn’t weapons either, it was practical things. If you had a problem, he would delight in seeking a practically solution that involved technologies he could work on. He was the one who came up with uncle Maedhros’ prosthesis hand. He loved… Inventive problems resolution.”

“Sounds like a fancy term for needless forge shenanigans.” Narvi pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean… About half of his inventions exploded on him at one point or another, but he got better at predicting when his inventions would just… Spectacularly give up on working.”

Narvi’s eyes were wide at that notion.

“That’s not how forge safety is supposed to work!”

“Dad was never burnt by normal fire. Dragon or Balrog fire was another thing altogether, but normal fire wasn’t something he ever had to fear.”

“It’s not a reason to explode your own work!” Narvi exclaimed.

“I mean… Some of those explosions were pretty impressive. One exploded in purple. I never saw purple fire before.”

Narvi made a sound like a dying dwarf at that notion.

“It’s funny, you know. Out of the family, grand-father Fëanor loved most to work with jewels and light but was deeply offended with anything that wasn’t perfectly efficient so he would pretty much improve anything he put his hands on, whether or not it was wanted, needed or practical. Dad loved the practical side of things. Give him any problem at all, and he’d work on it until he had a solution that’d work better. And me… I love to be able to work on jewelry and music boxes and generally pretty things. I love having the leisure of working on things of beauty instead of purely practical things.”

“Eh, it’s always nice to find your spark in the forge.” Narvi commented.

“I just… I don’t know what to do, Narvi. Dad is long dead and gone and if I don’t die I’ll never see him again. I’ll never be able to tell him that… I wish…”

Celebrimbor closed his fist, furious after his past self for the way he parted from his family.

“You know… I doubt your father needs you to tell him anything. If he knew you at all, then he knew what you meant exactly by your rejection.”

Celebrimbor shook his head.

“He was hurt when I disowned myself. I saw it in his eyes. Most people couldn’t read him but he was my dad, and easy to read for me. He was hurt. I hurt him.”

“Of course you did. But again, if he knew you, he knew that you loved him still.”

“At that point in time, I doubt he knew    anything about anyone or anything other than the Silmarils.”

“Then… Then send him a message from beyond the grave. You said you regret abandoning him, right? Then reclaimed your family’s rights. You made your own maker’s mark, which is great, don’t mistake me. But your family’s star is known still to all, even to my people, and you know we don’t tend to acknowledge elves at all if we can help it. So switch back. Give up your current maker’s mark and reclaim your family’s star. Make it your maker mark. Pretty sure that anyone would recognize it still, and the news would spread from beyond the grave in time.”

Celebrimbor looked startled at that idea.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Speak with Elrond about it. Pretty sure that elf would agree.”

“Elrond is a menace and would absolutely delight in having someone else start a scandal at court around.” Celebrimbor sighed.

“Exactly. So?”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Great.  And in the meantime you’ll get up, clean up your mess, and go put your broken tools where they belong. On a repair station.”

“They’re broken!”

“Celebrimbor. They’re Mithril!”

“And they broke.”

“Are you stupid on purpose? Those are Mithril tools. Yes, they broke. But they’re still usable. From where I stand, the breaks were clean. You just need the right knowledge to be able to repair them, and wouldn’t you know, we dwarves are specialists in dealing with mithril and tools, and I’m pretty sure I know a dwarf or two able to repair those things.”

Celebrimbor looked at Narvi with hope.

“You think…”

“Celebrimbor… I’m a dwarf. I know.”

Narvi emitted a sound of faint alarm when he found himself with an armful of a tearful elf. He never signed up to be hugged by an elf!

“Thank you!”

“You need a nap!” Narvi hissed.

Celebrimbor laughed brightly at that and let go of his friend:

“Possibly. I’ve been… Preoccupied.”

“You’ve been stupid. Go take a nap. I’ll deal with the tools. And don’t hug me again or so help me, I’ll bite you!”

Celebrimbor laughed again, and if his laughter was marked with unshed tears, Narvi was certainly not going to call him on it else he might be hugged again.