A New World of Our Creation by elennalore  

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A New World of Our Creation

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Utterly spent after the chase, Celebrimbor couldn’t reach the cliff in time. One moment Maedhros was there, a lonely dark shape against smoke and red flames. The next, he was gone. Celebrimbor was out of breath; the shout that escaped his throat was just a feeble cry. It had been as if the flames had risen from the chasm to claim Maedhros and the Silmaril with him. But in his mind, Celebrimbor knew what had really happened before his eyes. Maedhros had chosen the flames himself. Celebrimbor had failed; he had found his uncle too late.

Still, he needed to see Maedhros’ fate with his own eyes to be sure. The earth trembled and made a rumbling sound as the chasm suddenly widened. The hill he was climbing up moved under his feet and became far steeper, and a ball of fire flew by, lighting a fire among the dead grass behind him. Finally, Celebrimbor managed to find his balance and continued crawling towards the cliff.

“Stop, it’s too dangerous.”

The words were said in a musical, almost bell-like voice, and for a moment Celebrimbor wondered that he had heard the voice at all over the roaring fire and the rumble of the earth. But there was a certain power in the words, making them heard more easily, and he found himself stopping and turning towards the sound to better see the unexpected speaker.

He was dressed in a simple cloak and a white tunic in the fashion of the Maiar in Eönwë’s camp, but he carried no armour or weapon, and his feet were bare and covered in dirt. There were other gaps in his seeming perfection, like his golden hair that was matted and tangled in places, and a nasty slash over his right eye. He was standing downhill from Celebrimbor, and his hand was reaching out towards him.

“Come back down. Please. He’s gone, I swear you can’t do anything for him now.”

Perhaps there was indeed some magic in the stranger’s voice, for suddenly exhaustion filled Celebrimbor and he gave up the hopeless chase. The stranger led him down the hill and farther away from the chasm, between a couple of huge rocks. They were not quite a shelter, but something he could lean against, at least. But all kinds of thoughts were running through his mind, and he could not rest.

“Did he jump because of me? He knew I was following him – and that I was going to take the Silmaril from him. I was going to return it to Eönwë where it belongs. The Oath would have forced him to kill me then – he made sure it didn’t come to that.” With a desperate cry, Celebrimbor collapsed onto the ground, half sitting, half lying.

“Don’t blame yourself. You were only trying to help him.”

The curious Maia sat down next to him, moving without any visible weariness, although he must have run all the way from the war host’s camp, like Celebrimbor.

“Did Eönwë send you?” Celebrimbor asked at last.

He thought he caught a flicker of amusement on the stranger’s face, but he might have been mistaken.

“No, he didn’t. I acted on my own when I saw them escape from the camp with the Silmarils. Perhaps it had also occurred to me that I could do a little favour to Eönwë and return at least one of the jewels.”

Without warning, the Maia started to sing. The music made Celebrimbor instantly drowsy; it took him a moment before he realised that the Maia did it intentionally. It hit him like one of Maglor’s lullabies whenever he had volunteered to be his babysitter in the distant past, only more powerful.

“Stop that! Maglor is still somewhere there, I can’t give up the search before I find him!”

The Maia paused, eyeing him with renewed interest. “I see the Fëanorian star embroidered on your chest. Who are you to them to care so much about the kinslayers? A son?”

Celebrimbor fought against the sleep that threatened to overwhelm him, thanks to the bloody Maia. “My father was their brother,” he snapped as he fought to keep his eyelids open. “I am Celebrimbor Curufinwion, and I ask you to...”

Before he could finish the sentence, he drifted into dreamless sleep.

Celebrimbor woke as the Maia was leaning over him; instinctively Celebrimbor reached for his sword hilt, but the Maia guided his hand gently but firmly away. Well, he didn’t feel exactly threatening to Celebrimbor, just ignoring his boundaries even more than was usual with his kin. Now that Celebrimbor was more awake, he noticed the odd cat-like eyes, but the expression on the Maia’s face was that of worry.

“I’m sorry I had to wake you up, but we need to move. The earth is becoming unstable, and it may break into another chasm anytime. But I can lead us out.”

“I don’t want to go back to Eönwë’s camp!” Celebrimbor announced with grim determination. Sudden tears blurred his vision, but it could be just all the ash in the air. “I need to find Maglor!”

“I’m not going to take you to Eönwë’s camp,” the stranger answered softly. “Just follow me for now. I will take you somewhere safe.”

“Did you see which direction Maglor went? I think it was towards the sea...”

“That way is too dangerous right now,” he answered, and when he continued, Celebrimbor recognised a hint of impatience in his voice. “Believe me, you don’t want to be here when the world collapses. Don’t you feel the tremors of the earth? The flames that rise from the chasms will soon destroy everything. It’s definitely not safe here.”

Celebrimbor didn’t have energy left to protest, so he just followed the Maia, numb with weariness. He hardly recognised that around him, everything had started burning, but thankfully the Maia’s presence seemed to keep the flames from touching them. The night came, and still they walked on, the Maia leading the way. Celebrimbor had no idea where he was anymore. He could only smell the smoke in the air and taste the ash in his dry mouth. There was a reddish glow behind them where the flames were still raging. And somewhere behind the flames was the sea.

After a long, exhausting climb uphill, they finally came to a cave opening. The light was already increasing; the dawn had come, but it was not the kind of dawn that brought hope. There was no birdsong, and a reddish haze hid the sun from view.

“We can rest in this place as long as needed,” the Maia told him. “This part of the land is still stable, and the flames won’t reach up here. Come, I’ll show you a hidden spring at the mouth of the cave; you can cure your thirst there.”

The mouth of the cave was dark, and the rocks around it looked like sharp teeth. Celebrimbor thought about the jaws of some massive beast. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that the Maia was not who he seemed to be. “How do you know this land so thoroughly?”

Their eyes met. Celebrimbor wondered if the Maia was going to lie to him now.

“I have lived here for a long time.”

He spoke truthfully, Celebrimbor felt. He didn’t ask any more questions, for he was thirsty and weary, and the Maia did seem to want to help him for now. The water in the spring was cold and pure, and at that moment, it was all that mattered. After refreshing themselves, they went back outside to gather twigs and dry grass for the fire. Celebrimbor had lost his tinderbox along the way, but it wasn’t a problem because the Maia could produce a little flame from thin air, it seemed.

“Wow, that’s convenient,” Celebrimbor commented, pleasantly surprised.

The cave started to feel almost comfortable with a little fire burning at the entrance. There was no food to share between them, but there was shelter, and finally, Celebrimbor allowed himself to rest. However, there was something that needed to be asked.

“Who are you?”

The Maia turned to look at him, his eyes glimmering in the light of fire. “That’s kind of a big question,” he said at last, when Celebrimbor had already been sure that he wouldn’t answer him at all. “And I’m not sure that I can answer it today when we both are heavy-hearted and weary.”

“Fair enough,” Celebrimbor said. “What is your name, then? We seem to have been stuck together for now; you should give me your name, at least, if you have one.”

“Oh, I have many names,” he said rather proudly, “but you can call me Annatar.”

“Annatar?” Celebrimbor repeated calmly. The name felt like a forged one, and he knew the Maia knew he had realised it. “The Lord of Gifts. You’re not a modest one, are you?”

Annatar chose to ignore the comment. “And to prove that I’m worthy of my name, here’s a little something for you. A gift, if I may.”

He reached inside the pocket of his cloak, and when he pulled his hand out, he was holding – very carefully, as if it were burning him – a thing wrapped in green leaves. Celebrimbor recognised it instantly as lembas, and as Annatar offered him the waybread he was suddenly filled with a pleasant anticipation.

“Thank you! Are you giving all of this to me? Don’t you want some for yourself? It’s very nourishing.”

“No, I’m not hungry enough to eat that. Eönwë gave it to me in the camp, I don’t even know why I have kept it all this time. You can have it.”

Celebrimbor ate half of the bread, and all too fast, as it often happens when one is hungry. Afterwards, he was too tired to think of anything else but sleeping, even if that meant lying on the rough floor of the cave. In his dreams, he tried to save Maedhros and failed again, and next, he was endlessly running away from a threatening wall of fire. When he finally woke, he felt restless and sore; there was no use trying to get more sleep that night.

He was just about to get up when he heard a muffled whimper from the darkest corner of the cave where he could see the shadowy form of Annatar lying down. His instinct told him to stay perfectly still; it was clear that the subtle sound was not meant for his ears, and he wasn’t sure what Annatar would do if he knew that he had heard it. He tried to keep his breath slow and steady, as if he were sleeping, but the escaped whimper had made him curious. Annatar had taken charge of their escape from the moment they had met, guarding him from danger as if Eönwë himself had given him the task. But that was not the case – Annatar had admitted that he acted independently.

There is more than what he’s telling me, Celebrimbor thought. Something is making him anxious and sad, even though he doesn’t let it show. Something more personal than the destruction around us, I bet.

Annatar lay on his side, facing the wall, his body unmoving. Celebrimbor waited patiently, but no other sound of distress passed the Maia’s lips, and at some point, Celebrimbor fell back into a deep sleep even though he had been so certain before that sleep would avoid him that night.

On the following day, Celebrimbor insisted that they went looking for Maglor, although Annatar was pessimistic about their chances of finding him. It was too dangerous to go back where they had lost Maedhros; their only hope was that Maglor had chosen the same southeastern route as them. It became a long day of walking, looking for signs, anything. The ground constantly trembled around them, and no living thing grew there anymore. The world was becoming uninhabitable.

“Did Morgoth cause this?” Celebrimbor asked at some point in desperation, waving his hand around what was left of Beleriand.

“No,” Annatar said. “It was the coming of the Valar’s host; they forcibly cut Melkor’s ties with this land. The shock of removing his influence so suddenly became too much to bear for the land, and now the world is dying around us.”

“All of it?” A pang of anguish went through Celebrimbor like a blade. Despite the cataclysm surrounding them, he hadn’t realised that it could really mean the end. He didn’t want the world to end yet.

“No,” Annatar soothed him, and his voice was sympathetic. “Not all of it. But Beleriand, I’m afraid, is doomed. We must go east to survive.”

“Or West,” Celebrimbor tried, just to see how Annatar would react. As he had guessed, a slight grimace went across the face of the Maia, and his comment was deliberately ignored.

Annatar had been right; there was no sign of Maglor, nor of the remaining Silmaril.

“Can’t you locate him with your powers?” Celebrimbor asked, but Annatar just shook his head.

“Only Manwë can do something like that to my knowledge, although I bet he is content just to watch without interfering as is his custom.”

“So, no use trying to pray to him like Fingon did at Thangorodrim?”

Annatar laughed out loud. “You are free to pray to him if you want. I don’t think it matters much. But what do I know, I haven’t been on speaking terms with him for a long time.”

That kindled Celebrimbor’s curiosity further, but before he could think of additional questions, they heard the sound of approaching hooves and moreover, the sound of bells that marked the riders as Elves. After a moment, two riders appeared from behind a rocky hill in a dust cloud. A third, riderless, horse followed them.

“Galadriel!” exclaimed Celebrimbor, recognising his aunt on horseback together with her spouse Celeborn. Somehow, he was not surprised to see her there, searching for him among the desolation. As they rode to meet them and halted, Galadriel smiled in visible relief.

“Varda’s stars! You’re hard to find, Celebrimbor! I thought I had lost you forever in this chaos. Don’t do this to me ever again! Running away from the camp like that, and just because of them!”

“Maedhros is dead, Galadriel. I saw him jumping into a fiery chasm myself. The Silmaril went down with him.”

“That fool!” Galadriel exclaimed before continuing in a softer tone: “I’m so sorry, Tyelpë.”

“Have you any news about Maglor? Any idea where he went?”

Celeborn shook his head, his eyes sad and weary. “Someone saw him running towards the sea. That route is blocked now. If he goes far enough south, he might live. Unless...”

“Unless he will choose the same fate as Maedhros, you were going to say,” Celebrimbor interrupted him. “I refuse to believe that. There’s still hope. There must be.”

“Tyelpë, there’s nothing we can do,” Galadriel continued, “he’s out of our reach now. What matters is that the catastrophe is imminent. We are told that it’s inevitable; this land is going to break and be destroyed. You need to save yourself.”

“She speaks the truth,” Annatar interrupted, stepping out of the shadows of his own creation, making Galadriel’s mount startle.

“And who are you?” She cast a look of suspicion as she continued to soothe the frightened horse.

“Galadriel, this is Annatar. He rescued me from the fire when I failed to save Maedhros. I wouldn’t be here without him.”

Galadriel studied the Maia thoroughly, trying to make sense of him, it seemed. “I don’t remember you from Eönwë’s camp.”

“That’s because I didn’t spend much time in the camp. I have been busy elsewhere.”

“I’m going to keep looking for Maglor anyway,” Celebrimbor announced. There was a growing mistrust in Galadriel’s eyes, the same mistrust he had felt towards Annatar himself before he had witnessed the Maia secretly whimpering in the cave. He had pushed those suspicions away for now, not because he believed in Annatar’s half-truths, but because he felt Annatar was worthy of knowing better, nevertheless. Galadriel wouldn’t understand that; she would demand straight answers and absolute truths that Annatar wouldn’t give her. It was time to steer her thoughts toward more pressing matters.

“Which way should I go, Aunt?”

“The host of Valinor is leaving these shores soon. You are free to go with them to Valinor; the ban has been lifted. Honestly, I think you should go – you have faced too many sorrows already.”

“And you?”

She paused, her face momentarily unreadable. “I’m going to stay and go east. Middle-earth has become my home.”

“It is my home, too,” Celebrimbor said stubbornly, feeling the truth of his own words in his heart as he said them. “Just as you, I will stay.”

They had brought a spare mount – an elegant silver-coated mare that didn’t look like a war-horse – in hopes that Celebrimbor would return to their camp with them. Groups of Elves were already gathering there, Elves who would start travelling eastward soon, but Galadriel didn’t insist when Celebrimbor refused to join her. She left the horse for him, though, and supplies too, which was a good thing. Annatar had retreated back to the shadows of his own making until Galadriel and Celeborn left. Even then, he didn’t comment about Celebrimbor’s decision. They took the horse back to the cave that had become their impromptu camp. There Celebrimbor cared for her needs as well as they could, letting her drink water from the same spring that had refreshed him before. The cave had become cramped for them now, and Annatar didn’t want to light a fire so that the horse would not fret; it was obvious that they needed to find a better shelter soon.

“I forgot to ask about her name,” Celebrimbor said, meaning the horse. They were eating a simple cold dinner made from Galadriel’s supplies. “Well, I will call her Estel. I think hope is what we need right now.”

Annatar sat cross-legged in the corner, his glowing amber eyes studying Celebrimbor intently; those eyes made him think of dragons. He was becoming aware, more than ever, that he should be cautious about the Maia, but who knew what would happen tomorrow anyway?

“So, the host of the Valar is leaving for the West,” Celebrimbor said tentatively after a pause. “Shouldn’t you be going with them?”

The apologetic smile he got as an answer felt nothing but genuine. In a spontaneous act of bravery, Celebrimbor continued, trying to make it sound like he was joking: “Or are you deserting them?”

It took a moment for Annatar to reply. “I deserted them a long time ago. No need to go back now. To be honest, I would like to keep you company for a while – only if you allow me, of course. It’s dangerous out there, but I can lead you to a safer area. I have planned the best route already.”

“You want to travel eastward, too?”

“Yes. We should pass the Blue Mountains before taking a turn south. That should be the safest route out of here, but we have to hurry. The tremors of the land are worse than yesterday. I fear that when the ships of Valinor leave the shores of Middle-earth, it will be a turning point because not even he can keep the land from breaking then.”

“Who cannot?”

He knew the answer even before Annatar said the ominous name. “Melkor, King of the World. They captured him and will take him to the West, severing his influence from this land altogether. It will be too much; the whole land will collapse, and it has already begun.”

Annatar fell silent and bit at his lower lip, perhaps realising that he had said too much. Did it matter that Celebrimbor had already guessed the truth about his loyalties? It felt suddenly unreal. Here he was, conversing with the enemy. At least Celebrimbor was the one of them who carried a sword, although he suspected that it wouldn’t matter much against the Maia if it came to that.

“Fine,” Celebrimbor said, breaking the awkward silence, “so the land will collapse, and you know the way out, and you want to help me get through. But why?”

Annatar gave him a puzzled frown. In different circumstances his expression would have looked rather sweet. “I just explained it to you. Melkor –”

“Wait, sorry, I mean why do you want to help me? As it appears likely that we’ve been fighting the war on different sides.” He let the sentence hang in the air and kept watching Annatar’s reaction. There was no emotion there now; in fact, the Maia’s face was quite unreadable.

“Does it matter anymore?” Annatar said at last. “The world we knew has ceased to be. The Battle of the Powers has been fought again like the one in a bygone era no Elf can remember, and once more, the world is broken because of it. The only thing that matters, Celebrimbor, is to escape this imminent catastrophe. And I know how.”

“But –” Celebrimbor started, waving his hand in an arch in a desperate effort to find the right words. “But why help me? Not that I object. I’m as keen to survive as you are, apparently. But we are... aren’t we –” He couldn’t make his mouth form the word enemies, not after Annatar had led him away from the fiery chasm and given him lembas to eat.

With astonishing swiftness, Annatar stood up and moved next to Celebrimbor, making his heart jump. Perhaps all the Maiar were prone to uncanny acts, he thought, hiding his brief sense of unease behind a wide grin. It was actually quite fascinating to witness Annatar’s flowing movements, like watching a dancing flame.

“Celebrimbor.” Annatar turned to face him, his open arms an invitation, and it felt like a very natural thing to step ahead and let Annatar pull Celebrimbor against his body. The Maia’s sudden attention felt like a warm breeze, and as if something he had been waiting for a long time to happen. A more suspicious part of his mind claimed that he might be under enchantment, but he hushed the thought away. He had a right to be curious.

“Celebrimbor, the reason I want to help you is because I like you,” Annatar told him, his deep fiery eyes meeting Celebrimbor’s, causing an involuntary thrill to run through him. “I like how you appear nonchalant around me. Most people wouldn’t. It’s interesting. You’ve got some nerve.”

“I don’t know about that. You still haven’t told me who you really are. I bet Annatar is not what we’ve been calling you in the past.”

He got a laugh as a reward, a laugh that revealed a line of too sharp teeth. Annatar’s eyes glimmered with red and gold, like the motif on the Enemy’s banner. “You’re right to be cautious, but I feel we both deserve a new beginning. Let’s put the past behind us, shall we?”

Celebrimbor tensed and took an automatic step back. The cave felt suddenly darker. However, he couldn’t really be afraid of the Maia, even though he now had a good guess who he was dealing with. Outside, a thunderstorm rumbled in the distance, and Estel moved uneasily at the cave entrance where they had left her.

“Do you miss the one they captured – Morgoth?” Celebrimbor asked when his breathing had become steady again. 

Annatar’s answer was a sad little smile. “Eönwë let me escape from the camp in the chaos that ensued; I think he wanted to give me a second chance. I tried to save one of the Silmarils and get it back to Eönwë, but like you, I was too late. Could I have bargained with them for my Master’s freedom if I had gotten it? I hoped so, but in truth, I don’t believe it had changed anything. Taking Melkor captive was always their first priority.”

Celebrimbor could hear the grief in Annatar’s voice; now he knew whom the Maia had been mourning.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying despite all the horrible things Morgoth had brought in their world. It felt like the right thing to say. “So, this is a new beginning, then?”

“A new beginning – a new world of our own creation. Not the world the Valar planned for us, but one made by us.”

“Us?” Celebrimbor echoed. The grief that had shadowed Annatar’s voice a moment before had vanished, turned to something more like anticipation.

“The two of us,” Annatar confirmed. “Call it intuition if you like, but I feel we were destined to meet.”

“Now that sounds pretty ominous,” Celebrimbor commented, but his lips wanted to turn upwards. Annatar was right. He had sensed it too, like the first chords of a new musical theme. A destiny.

They decided to begin the journey of Annatar’s choosing on the following morning: first eastward, then through a mountain pass and turn south. New lands would be waiting for them there. If Galadriel’s group of Elves would choose the same route, they would probably meet again sooner or later, but it was good to travel with Annatar with a chance to get to know him better. Celebrimbor believed he now knew the Maia’s other name, but he never tried to call him Sauron. Some names were better to leave in the past.

In the morning, after making breakfast of Galadriel’s supplies, Celebrimbor mounted Estel and they turned eastward as they had planned. But the earth was angrier than a day before, and they knew that the fleet of the West had finally left those shores, taking Morgoth with them.

“We don’t have much time left,” Annatar commented, urgency in his voice. “It’s better if I transform into a form suited for swifter travel. Just don’t be scared.”

Soundlessly, the contours of the Maia blurred, and a moment later, he stood beside Celebrimbor’s horse wearing the skin of a huge vampire bat. It was good that he had warned Celebrimbor beforehand; it still took some time to calm down Estel.

“Manwë’s balls! Are you a bloody Lúthien?” Celebrimbor swore.

“This form is just a mere necessity so that I can keep pace with you as you gallop through the plain as you should if you want to survive this. Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all.” Celebrimbor took a second look at his companion, lengthier this time. Now that he had gotten used to the fangs and spikes and leathery wings, he decided that Annatar looked actually quite fabulous for an Úmaia. “Let’s go before it’s too late. I want to live.”

Annatar opened his wings, laughing aloud as a gust of wind appeared from nowhere and he soared up into the air. Celebrimbor felt the gust on his face and laughed together with him.