Control, and How to Lose It by cytryne  

Control, and How to Lose It

Original AN: I've always preferred the version of canon where Celebrimbor was not so peaceably given
control of Ost-in-Edhil and Eregion from his cousins, as you can see. Feat. a slightly different
Celebrimbor and Annatar than my normal, and possibly entirely too many genuine emotions
for either of their comfort. Poor dudes.
And yes, I am aware Celeborn and Galadriel rule together. The focus on Galadriel
exclusively isn't a mistake, they don't really see Celeborn as having any actual power in the
city.

“Why do you use books and paper for your notes and journals, but a slate and chalk for your
designs? Are they not equally worth preserving?”

Tyelpe blinked, ceiling coming into focus as the silky voice intruded on his quiet doze in the
late afternoon sun. He rolled onto his side and propped an arm under his head, the rumpled
sheets tangling around his feet. The Maia, fully dressed and as perfect as ever, like hadn't just
been as rumpled and messy as Tyelpe only a matter of minutes ago, smiled over at him.
Something darker and more pleased shined through his eyes as he took in Tyelpe’s state,
distracting Tyelpe for a second as pleasant thoughts of what that could lead to ran through his
mind. Annatar waved the aforementioned slate and journal lightly and he refocused.

“Reading through my journals while I sleep now? Are you truly that bored without me?”
Tyelpe teased, lips curving up to prove he didn’t mean it. He stretched idly, dappled sun
shining over the sheets. The warmth and their previous activities had put him in a good
mood, relaxed in a way he hadn't in years. It was nice. Comfortable. Intimate but not weird.

“No, it’s . . . a longevity thing. My notes and journals—the context won’t change. My
thoughts and ideas may over time, but in the moment I record them? I want to be able to look
back and know what I had thought then versus now and if anything had been happening to
influence them at that time, so I keep it on paper. It helps me . . . make sure I'm not changing
in a negative way as I grow. But my designs? I need to edit, over and over again, to get the
shape exactly right. I could use lead, or scrub the ink, or use different pages, but I . . . would
rather not waste the paper. One page per finished design, even if the next just ends up being a
separate edition of the same design for a different purpose.”

“As frugal as ever, my lord,” the Maia returned as easily as he had gotten, his smile
something gentle and soft. Tyelpe had seen that look a lot recently. Annatar had never been
cold, not to him, but something had changed. He’d dropped his guard in some small way. It
was . . . good, to see his feelings towards this reflected. It might have been unexpected, but it
was apparently not unwelcome to either of them. He'd almost given up on having something
like this.

Annatar put the slate down on the table Celebrimbor had left it on last night, and made his
way back to the bad. He sat down next to Tyelpe’s head, a hand reaching out to run through
Tyelpe’s hair as if he weren’t fully aware of it himself.

“You use a slate to save paper, you dress—“ Tyelpe twisted slightly to meet his eyes, catching
how they raked up and down his body in a way that sent shivers down his spine. The hand
readjusted to keep its gentle movements. “—like a common worker, in pants and a tunic
instead of the complicated outfits your station warrants. You could live in a large set of
rooms, with any and everything you desire, yet you choose to have only the minimum. You
make complicated, gorgeous jewelry and yet I have only ever seen you wear plain silver
earrings and the star of your house.” 

A finger touched his earring as he mentioned them, and
traced up along the tip of his ear. Tyelpe shuddered. Above him, Annatar’s lips curled up, his
smile going from innocent to a little more pleased with himself.

“I admire it, truly. Your humility. I have never met another like you, Child or Ainu, who has
all the right and means to spend their life surrounded by luxury yet avoids it all. It’s
refreshing.” Tyelpe flushed at the compliment and how Annatar looked at him while he said
it, like he was taking him apart to find and evaluate the deepest parts of him. Him, open and
bare to Annatar, and yet he didn’t mind as much as he should. He’d never had someone look
at him like that before and not try to tear him down from what they found.

“Far better than your cousin in this aspect, like many others.”

And with that, Celebrimbor froze. He stiffened under Annatar’s words despite the gentle
attention, not wanting to agree but unable to truly deny it. Artanis wasn’t particularly gaudy,
but she was far from humble. She didn’t spend time with the people who worked menial jobs,
she didn’t try to help their problems or know their names, she didn’t think about all the costs
of day to day life before doing things. She just kept acting like the lady she was, with all the
expenses and airs and tasteful luxury it implied. Humility was unknown except as a pretense.
And that was . . . far from the only reason they had to complain about her actions.

“Annatar, I—“ he started, half heartedly, but Annatar shushed him gently.

“Your familial loyalty is inspiring, to keep you from speaking ill of her even when it’s within
your right for how she treats you, but you know it’s true. What has she done for the city
recently? She sits with her council, talking and talking about the problems of the region, but
misses the ever increasing number of children who live on the streets or beg for food. The
conflicts between the different peoples over basic problems like who can live where. You’ve
had to fight for even the most basic funding for your projects, even though they have all been
used to advance the city until it's a jewel beyond even Lindon. She sits with her gold and
servants and massive libraries, while others struggle to even eat or read.

“Trade suffers whenever you do not have the time to handle it, even though that ought to be
her responsibility. She takes all the credit for your work when you succeed, even though she
had nothing to do with your success except her absence. What she misses, you see. What she
can’t do, you achieve in only a few words or gestures. People love you. You already lead half
of them, and spend time aiding the rest. They look at you and see someone they understand,
who lives and works and speaks like them, even though you have the fearsome reputation of
being the son of Curufin. There is no area where she is a better choice than you, and I fear for
Eregion if she is left to lead indefinitely. Her and her husband's rule works for now, but it will
not forever. Already, the things she has missed have built off of each other to move from a
minor concern to a larger struggle. That will not change unless she does, and she seems
incapable of change. I am concerned, Tyelperinquar, as I know you are whether you say it or
not. You can't hide that from me.”

Celebrimbor closed his eyes, and sighed. Slowly, he pulled away from Annatar, dropping his
legs to the floor to sit next to him on the bed. The shirt he was wearing slipped down a
shoulder, bunching on his thighs and barely covering anything, but he made no attempt to fix
it. It wasn't like Anntar hadn't seen more than that before. Silvery hair slid over his eyes with
the movement and he pushed it back, too weary at the topic change to bother fixing it.

“I wish I could say you were wrong. I don't want to speak ill of her just to praise myself.

She’s...irritating, and overly righteous, and not always as competent as she insists she is, but
I...she’s typical of my people. She didn’t suffer in the same way most of us did, and so what
she did suffer didn’t change her grasp of the most basic parts of life as severely. It’s difficult
to handle, but also enviable. I would have the same flaws as her if I had not been through
what I was. I don’t want to hurt her by challenging her rule for that.”

“Tyelpe...” Annatar said quietly, softly, like he regretted the impact of his words but couldn't
figure out how to bring it up again. Celebrimbor stared at the floor stubbornly, refusing to
look at him. A rustle of cloth sounded next to his ear, then he felt the bed dipped as Annatar
shifted to move around behind him. A kiss pressed against the top of his head, startling him
despite its softness, and then Annatar pulled back. “Tell me about it?”

Celebrimbor huffed a laugh, bitter whether he wanted to be or not. This topic always hurt.
The hands combed through his hair, anchoring him as Annatar began to weave in a braid.

“What do you think? Everything happened in Nargothrond. I’d always been somewhat
humble, something of an oddity because of how shy and quiet and afraid of taking up space I
was. The war compounded it, back when we didn’t have the resources to waste using paper
or eating much or keeping more jewelry than necessary. Cana taught me to walk amongst our
people and pay attention to event he most minor of problems, to keep them from growing and
crippling us. It was important. But by Nargothrond, we were rich again to not need to care
about waste.

“I’d started to break away, but I was still very influenced by my Atar. And he...always
encouraged luxury and debauchery and everything you could think about. I was the mirror
image of my cousins, kinder than Atar but still ignorant and proud and unaware. If I had
more responsibilities, I would have missed a lot and relied on others too much because I
didn't know how to rule properly. It wasn't until I dropped from a prince to an unwanted guest
only accepted because of my skills that I learned a lot of lessons Artanis has never
encountered. I can’t fault her for that.”

A tug at the bottom of his hair, and Annatar released the braid, tied neatly with a ribbon he'd
pulled from somewhere. But it only swung for a second, before Annatar caught it and placed
it over Celebrimbor’s right shoulder, pressing another kiss to his neck on the other side. When he spoke, the words came out warm and slightly muffled against him. “You cannot, but
that does not change the effects of your respective contributions to the city. Her ignorance
will cause harm.”

Celebrimbor looked across the room, not really seeing any of it. His voice came out hesitant,
weighed down by his thoughts. “I don’t want to be my father, Annatar. I can’t be invited into
a city only to betray the rulers, not like him.”

Slowly, arms wrapped around his waist. Even after this short of time, he knew touch like this
was not Annatar’s preference. It was clearly done for his benefit and his alone. His chest
warmed at the support, and if not for the angle he’d kiss him again.

“You are not your father. You are motivated by helping people, not increasing your own
status. And there are ways to handle your cousin without going so far as him. She has been
ignoring your proposals even though they are more well educated than her own. So take
temporary control of Eregion, for only a year or two. Let her use it to travel, for her and her
husband to learn about the problems and needs of their realm. Give her a chance to learn
what you did, but with the security of a place to return to. No one could blame you for taking
her place while she improves, not with the amount of work you already do. It will help.”

Celebrimbor sighed again, leaning back into Annatar. “I...yes. I’ll do it. If you’re sure.”

Chapter End Notes

Original AN: This was originally supposed to be a short headcanon drabble about writing instruments? It
grew, as you can see.
You can take this as Mairon actually caring, just being ver ygood at manipulation, or lying to
himself and saying he's just very good at manipulation as you wish. I am genuinely not sure
which, but would love to hear your thoughts