The Unread Visions of a Higher Dream II: The Light Under the Mountain by Prackspoor  

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I.1

Celebrimbor and Annatar arrive at the Kingdom Under The Mountain, and Celebrimbor meets a very old friend.

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I.

 

“– thus, a function that can be expressed through a Talair-series is differentiable in complex space at any given point and is therefore holomorphic – and that is why, my friend, I must inform you that your theory is regrettably false and therefore not applicable.”

When this triumphant statement was greeted by nothing more than silence, Celebrimbor turned around, only to nearly trip over a root that had been growing across the path and suddenly risen to catch on the tip of his boot.

He caught his balance and whirled around, his hood nearly slipping off his head. “Hey!”

Annatar appeared around the curve that the path took around a big oak and raised an eyebrow at Celebrimbor's accusing look. “What?”

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?” Annatar walked up to him through the mild autumnal drizzle, his hands folded under his long sleeves, the very picture of faux-innocence.

Celebrimbor wiped a few stray droplets of rain off his brow. “The root, of course. I do not know of any malicious forest spirits residing in these woods, but it is either that or we have some other spirit hiding behind trees and tripping up unsuspecting travellers.”

Annatar looked mildly interested. “Why, that sounds outrageous. Do you want me to take a look into the bushes for you and give the spirit a scolding?” Even as he said it, the corners of his mouth were twitching. “You were talking about pathological functions, I believe. You were saying?”

Celebrimbor gave him a long look as they fell back into step next to each other on the muddy path. “One might argue that this is not the only pathological thing in our discussion. Do tell, how would you describe your need to be right on every last matter – oh, and your tendency to distract me with malignant flora when you were, for once, mistaken about something?”

“Do you honestly think I would be childish enough to resort to such petty revenge tactics merely because you have succeeded in proving me wrong?” Annatar asked.

“Absolutely,” Celebrimbor said.

He heard Annatar laugh quietly behind him as he stopped at the bank of the Sirannon cutting across the path, which the continuous rainfalls had turned into a veritable torrent.

He took a careful step onto one of the bigger boulders that were high enough to form makeshift stepping stones for crossing the brown creek, and then looked back over his shoulder at Annatar.

“Don't think I have forgotten about the one time you had a murder of ravens follow me for an entire day –,” another careful step, “– just because the symposium had decided that I had won our discourse on utilitarian ethics.”

“That – oh that,” Annatar said. “I do recall everyone present being very amused by it. The discussion had taken a drearily long time; a lightening of the mood seemed welcome. Besides, it was a sight to behold: you looked like a princess out of an Laiquendian operetta – you remember those dreadful scenes where they start to sing and suddenly all the animals of the forest flock to them? It was the very same with you, only you were constantly grouching instead of singing.”

“They followed me into my bedroom.” Celebrimbor swung out one arm to catch his balance and made the leap from the last stone to the other shore.

“They could hardly have made more of a mess of it than it already was, if it looks even half as chaotic as your study.” Annatar followed him over the slippery stepping stones without any difficulty.

Celebrimbor threw Annatar a side glance. “The longer I think about it, the more I do feel tempted to sneak an ill-tempered and malicious animal into your own chambers.”

“I already own a cat, thank you. Still, you are of course welcome to try. Though I do feel obligated to remind you that I don't sleep,” Annatar said with a smug smile. “So leaving a snake under the cushions would leave me grievously unimpressed.”

“Oh, that need not be an obstacle. I could just leave a worm-eaten tome in the middle of your prized collection of Rhûnian astronomy books.” The glare that Annatar gave him at these words made Celebrimbor avert his face and fake a cough to hide his laughter. “Though I feel obligated to mention that I am not childish enough to go through with it,” he added.

They walked the path in silence for a while after that, raindrops falling in a steady drip-drip from the yellow and orange leaves of the trees overhead while the Sirannon thundered in his bed, foaming and burbling.

After a while the drizzle intensified to a point where Celebrimbor was forced to stop and unpack his oilcloak from his bag. He pulled the neatly folded cloak out of his bag, when something occurred to him and he turned around.

Annatar, who was standing behind him, watching and waiting in silence, raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Do you need one?” Celebrimbor pointed at the oilcloak.

“Do I look like the rain is bothering me?” Annatar replied with a wry smile, gesturing at his pristine and, quite obviously, dry clothes and hair.

“Well, now you are just showing off.” Celebrimbor pulled his cloak on, and stuffed the reserve cloak back into the bag before slinging it over his shoulder again.

Annatar cocked his head to one side. “If this is enough to impress you, Curufinwë, I shall reconsider whether to introduce you to the secret parts of my deeper knowledge at all. I might just show you some parlour tricks instead.”

“There is something to be said for a parlour trick that can keep you dry in the rain,” Celebrimbor replied. “I would not at all object to learning that one. That being said, do not pretend that you would be able to hold back a piece of knowledge you want to share.”

“I am capable of self-restraint, if that is the point you are trying to make,” Annatar said.

“A point that stands yet to prove,” Celebrimbor said, laughing as he resumed walking.

“This point, as you call it, has been proven over and over again over the last century and a half,” Annatar countered. “I am still working alongside you and your Noldor without ever having resorted to tongue-tying even a single one of you – and that includes Daeror when he saw fit to examine the – what was it? Carnal inclinations of the Ainur? – in two hundred verses of iambic pentameter?”

Celebrimbor snorted. “To be honest, I found his treatise interesting and his manner of delivery very refreshing. Its scientific value was arguably debatable, but then again most aspects of the Ainur are too mysterious to allow for a factual discussion – they prefer to stay silent on the matter of their own nature, and as such we all have to rely on guesswork in that respect.”

Annatar made an irritated noise. “Is that so? Well, no harm in staying silent a bit longer then. If only to prove to you that I am very well capable of keeping some knowledge to myself.”

They walked on, but Celebrimbor pulled his hood back a bit to allow for better side vision, regarding Annatar as he ambled alongside the elf, very much not bothered by the weather, although he was making no discernible effort to avoid the rain either with gestures or with spells.

He had just opened his mouth to speak when Annatar said, “You know, I could make a point now about how you simply cannot keep your questions to yourself.”

Celebrimbor shut his mouth again, then he laughed. “Fine. Point taken; we are even. Can I still ask the question?”

“Could I stop you from doing so?” Annatar replied, but even though his tone was deliberately exasperated, it was not enough to hide that he was secretly satisfied by Celebrimbor's curiosity. “Go on then, ask.”

“How do you do it?” Celebrimbor inquired.

“Do what?” Annatar replied.

“The rain does not touch you.”

“Of course it doesn't.”

“Yes, but why? I haven't seen you use a spell.”

Annatar regarded Celebrimbor pensively, as if considering how much to tell him. “Let me amend the statement you made: the rain does not touch my fana. That should be quite enough in the way of hints. Now it's your turn – tell me how I am doing it.” The challenge was clear in his words.

Celebrimbor narrowed his eyes pensively. “No spell, no magic. The rain does not touch you, despite you not doing anything – no, despite you not visibly doing anything.” He thought about it for a bit, then held out his hand and Annatar gripped it. It was dry and warm, but not overly hot. Celebrimbor let go, frowning. “You're not evaporating the water, either. And yet it does not touch you, it doesn't – ah.” He stopped in his tracks and so did Annatar, watching him attentively.

“It does not touch your fana … but you don't stop where your fana ends, do you?”

Annatar smiled broadly. “Go on.”

Celebrimbor leaned forward, closer to his friend and indeed – if he paid close attention, he could see little eddies and vertices in the air around his friend, similar to the hwinder Celebrimbor had observed when experimenting with lenses, candles, and refractive indices of air at different temperatures.¹ Those eddies were whirling around Annatar in every direction, like miniature storms forming a dome of air around him, propelling the rain into imperceptibly changed trajectories and away from Annatar's form.

Celebrimbor watched the aerial movements with rapt fascination. “Is that your ëala?” he asked.²

Annatar's satisfied smirk was enough of an answer.

“And it is keeping the rain from your fana, so it isn't really touching you...” he trailed off. “But isn't that difficult?” Celebrimbor forged on. “I know Ainur can switch between non-corporeal and corporeal states at will, but binding the greater part of yourself to a body while upholding enough of an in-between state for a minor part of you to stay unbound and ever-changing – isn't the contradiction hard to maintain?”

“Hm.” Annatar inclined his head to one side. “Yes and no. It is taxing insofar in that it is a fundamentally unstable state, which naturally takes more effort to maintain, because even our ëalar seek stable, low-energy states-of-being – in that we are not different from any other matter in the universe. But as long as I can provide the energy, it is a permanently renewed state of controlled chaos.”

“So as long as you can provide a permanent influx of energy you can create something akin to a meta-stable state of superposition wherein you can exist both corporeally and incorporeally at the same time.”

“Just so.”

Celebrimbor thought about this for a while longer, frowning. “So if you are not forced to choose between two absolute states-of-being … just imagine what you could do with that.”

“I need not imagine, I know what can be done with it,” Annatar said, waving this off. “And every last bit of this knowledge makes me feel grateful that you don't have the power to accomplish such things by yourself, because Námo knows the dozens of ways you'd come up with in order to blunder around with it.”

“Do I really have to let myself be lectured on responsibility by someone who used his cosmic powers to make a flock of birds follow me around for one entire day?” Celebrimbor shot back.

“You have to admit it was rather amusing how valiantly you tried to shake them off,” the Maia said.

Celebrimbor shook his head. “Remind me, why are we friends again?”

Annatar gave him a smug smile. “Probably due the numerous merits of my person, including – but not limited to – my winning personality, my sharp wit and intellect, and my rarely demonstrated but nevertheless flawless ability to execute a practical joke on a colleague.”

Celebrimbor gave him an incredulous look. “What has gotten into you today?” he asked. “Who are you and what have you done to Annatar? You seem – different.”

Annatar's step faltered briefly, the rhythm of his pace breaking for just a stride, but he regained it quickly and walked on as if nothing had happened. “It's nothing,” he said, turning his face skyward where the cover of clouds was just beginning to tear open, letting through a few golden rays of sunlight. “I am merely … in a good mood.”

“If I had known that travelling does that for you, I would have dragged you along on my treks far earlier,” Celebrimbor quipped, but even while he watched his friend, his amused smirk changed into a genuine smile.

“Well, you didn't ask.” Annatar threw him a brief side glance. “How much further until the gates?”

Celebrimbor shaded his eyes against the bright autumn sun slanting through the trees and gazed at the three peaks of Caradhras, Fanuidhol, and Celebdil rising high and dark against the western sky. “About three miles from here. I've been told that a welcoming committee will be waiting for us. We will be meeting them at the entrance, and they'll accompany us directly to the hall of the King of Khazad-Dûm himself.”

“Excellent. I cannot wait to see that secret door of yours at last. I do hope it lives up to the tales I've heard told about it.”

“Not every great work requires a Maia to have a hand in it,” Celebrimbor shot back. When Annatar raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge, as if to say Oh, is that so?, Celebrimbor added, “Wait and see for yourself.”

*

The rain let up as they wandered on and the clouds were chased away by the high winds, leaving nothing but a pale, washed-out sky overhead. The Misty Mountains drew steadily closer, their snowy peaks set aflame by the red sun, which hung low in the western sky and had by now nearly disappeared behind the southern slopes of the Celebdil. The first stars were beginning to appear in the east, where the sky had turned to midnight blue, and dusk was gathering under the dark trees when at last the lake of the west gate came into view.

There their path joined the Great East Road, the greatest and most-frequented trade route in the northern realms. It ran from the havens at the Gulf of Lune in the West to Khazad-Dûm and beyond that, as far as Esgaroth upon the Long Lake in the East.

This late in the day, only a few travellers were still on the road. At first they saw no one else, save a cart making its slow, rumbling way east in front of them and a group of Men walking behind them. As they made their way upstream alongside the Sirannon, however, they caught sight of more carts and people on the road. Most of the travellers were Dwarves, but they spotted some Noldor as well, presumably hailing from Lindon judging by their light blue-and-green cloaks, and all of them eager to reach the welcoming halls of Khazad-Dûm before nightfall.

They followed a broad, even stone path that ran along the mountainside until it ended before a sheer cliff face without any cracks where moss or vines would have found handholds to climb. Cut into this stone with the ease of cutting water, so effortless and elegant seemed the curves and edges of the stone, was a great door standing open in invitation like its twin at Ost-in-Edhil, save that this one was guarded by six Dwarven guards, who stood aside to allow the travellers through.

Annatar stopped, looking up the cliff face. “So these are the famed Doors of Durin,” he said, and stepped closer to run his fingers over the stone, as if searching for something in their structure that could not be seen, but only felt. His fingers slid over the edges and natural cracks in the stone. When he had finished his examination of the door to his satisfaction he stepped back.

“I must say that this isn't quite what I expected,” Annatar said, still looking at the doors. “They are nicely proportioned, aesthetical, practical, and good – but too plain to be your style, Tyelperinquar. You do not make things that are simply good.” He turned around. “Where is the extraordinary part hidden?”

Celebrimbor held Annatar's gaze, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “What you are seeing now is Narvi's work, and practicality and functionality were very much his style, if you remember.”

“I do,” Annatar said, “and all due respect goes to Narvi's craftsmanship. But I am still waiting to see your own signature flourish. I am impressed, but I am still waiting to be dazzled.”

Celebrimbor did not succeed entirely in suppressing a grin. “Wait a moment,” he said, and turned around to gauge the stream of visitors, which by now had thinned to a trickle. Most of the other travellers had overtaken them while Annatar had been inspecting the doors.

Celebrimbor walked over to the guards. “Good evening,” he said and bowed in the customary fashion of Dwarves. “Celebrimbor of Ost-in-Edhil, at your service. I know it is bad manners to ask something of a host before you have even stepped over his threshold, but I have a request to make in favour of my friend: would it be possible – ”

He didn't get any further, because right then, one guard interrupted him. “Celebrimbor of Ost-in-Edhil?” he repeated, incredulous, his Sindarin only slightly roughened by the sharp consonants of Khuzdul. “The Celebrimbor?”

Celebrimbor blinked. “If you are talking about the friend of Narvi who lived here for nearly three decades and made these doors with him, then yes, that Celebrimbor,” he replied. “At least, there is no other I know of. Elves are not usually in the habit of giving away a name more than once.”

“Says the third Curufinwë,” a familiar voice from inside the gates said.

Both Celebrimbor and the guards looked up in surprise, just in time to see five hooded shapes step forth from the shadow of the inner mountain and out into the fading evening light.

It was a group of five Dwarves, and the eldest of them stepped forward now. He was clad in a blue hood and a fine vest that bore the sigil of Durin – a silver crown with an arch of seven stars. On his breast was the brooch of the Steward of Khazad-Dûm: two finely wrought silver hands, crossed at the wrists, the right one holding a quill and the left one holding a hammer. A few fine lines of age criss-crossed his face, but his beard was still mostly auburn and his movements were swift and precise as he bowed deeply and respectfully.

“Maker's fire upon your path, and firm stone below your feet,” the elder dwarf said in flawless Sindarin, accompanied by a slight bow.

“And may your hammer strike ever true,” Celebrimbor replied formally as he came to stand before the dwarf and returned the bow. “I was wondering whether it would be you to welcome us into Khazad-Dûm.”

“Not for the world and all the mithril hidden in its depths would I have missed it,” the dwarf replied.

At those words a grin broke over Celebrimbor's face, and with a quick motion, much to the surprise of both the dwarf's companions and Annatar, the elf pulled the eldest dwarf into a firm embrace. “It is good to see you again, Fundin.”

“And you, Kurfi.” The dwarf laughed and clapped his hands on Celebrimbor's back, and then pushed him back at arm's length, his sharp eyes searching the elf's face. “Would you look at yourself,” he said. “The sun and the wind have done you good. You look well.”

“I do hope so,” Celebrimbor said, “Living in peaceful times and surrounded by friends must be good for something, after all.”

“Indeed.” Fundin stepped back, his eyes wandering past Celebrimbor's shoulder and resting on Annatar. “And I see you have brought one such friend with you today.” The dwarf stepped around Celebrimbor and bowed, inclining his head at the angle of a respectful bow to a stranger of unknown rank. “Fundin, Son of Finli, at your service.”

“And at yours, Master Fundin,” Annatar replied and inclined his head.

At those words Fundin’s younger companions leapt to attention. Celebrimbor did not know them, for they had most likely not been more than children while he had been staying in Khazad-Dûm, but they were quick to remedy that. One after the other, they bowed deeply towards Celebrimbor and then to Annatar, introducing themselves as Ari, Nali, Buri and Bori, the first two being nephews of the King of Khazad-Dûm himself while the latter two were younger cousins of Fundin.

“And who might you be, Lord Stranger?” Fundin said at last, turning towards Annatar again. “Our mutual friend has been very secretive about your person since he announced that there would be someone coming with him. As such he has not informed us of your name, or your titles and ancestry. I would call you 'Master Elf', but I see that it would be amiss, because upon a closer look it seems you're missing their pointy ears.”

Annatar laughed softly. “Not too far amiss – and no offence would have been taken. I am sure our mutual friend can remedy the missing introductions very quickly.” His eyes flicked over to Celebrimbor, an amused glint in them.

Celebrimbor had hoped to postpone this particular part of their visit until such a time that they were standing before the King of Khazad-Dûm, but the cue – as well as the dawning understanding on Fundin’s suddenly pale face – compelled him to step forward. “This is Annatar Aulëndil, a dear friend and colleague of mine.” He turned to speak to the younger Dwarves, who did as yet appear confused. “He came to Middle-earth as an emissary of the Lords of the West, and has since wandered its farthest and most remote corners, offering up his knowledge and his skill at all ends of the world, before he came to my doorstep one hundred and fifty years ago. He has been staying with us in Ost-in-Edhil ever since. I took him with me since he expressed his desire to see the marvels of Khazad-Dûm for himself.”

“Aulëndil?” Ari repeated, his brows raised. “And an emissary of the Valar?” He looked at Annatar, more closely this time, who held his gaze with calm golden eyes until the dwarf suddenly paled.

“What were you thinking?” Fundin exclaimed. “You might as well have sent us into a dragon cave without warning by not announcing the nature of your friend! Had we known you would bring a Maia to our gates, the king himself would have come to deal with you!” His face had lost all colour as well.

At Fundin’s words, Celebrimbor felt a pang of guilt for springing Annatar on his friend without forewarning. The relationship of the Khazad with their Maker was an ambivalent thing. They were Aulë's children – but they were also children who were very much aware of the failings of their father. As such they were torn between the respect and loyalty they owed Aulë and everyone of his fellowship, and a careful awareness of the broken pedestal upon which their maker stood. It was to be expected that they would look with wariness upon everyone who named himself an associate of the Great Smith.

Celebrimbor had known that bringing a Maia to the Dwarven kingdom was precarious, not only politically but also culturally. For this exact reason he would have preferred to wait with the introductions until they had met the King of Khazad-Dûm. Durin would decide how to deal with an emissary of Aulë and his tone and the warmth of his welcome would determine how all other Dwarves would receive Annatar.

The four younger Dwarves looked on in shock, uncomprehending just what had transpired between their elder and the stranger, as Fundin touched his right hand to his forehead and bowed deeply.

“Forgive us our ignorance, Lord Aulëndil,” he said. “Had we known who you were, we would have greeted you differently, in a manner befitting your rank and nature.” His words were carefully chosen, and Celebrimbor did not miss the fact that Fundin had taken care not to specify the nature of such a welcome.

Annatar quickly stepped forward, put his hands upon Fundin's shoulder, and righted him again. “There is no need for such formalities. Mahal himself wished for children, not servants, when he gave you life at the Dawn of Days, ere the first sunrise. No father would demand that his children bow to him, and neither would I, calling myself only 'of Aulë', and not Aulë himself. Rise, Fundin, Son of Finli, so we might look upon each other as equals and – if you will – friends.”

Fundin righted himself again and took a small step backwards, out of Annatar's reach, while his younger cousins looked on with dumbfounded gazes.

“If there is any way I can be of aid to you, you need only speak,” Fundin said, carefully neutral. “House Silverhand is at your service. I am afraid there is no fixed protocol for such an event, because there is no known instance of any of Aulë's people ever coming to a kingdom under the mountains.”

Annatar smiled. “In this case, I feel honoured to be the first of my kin to be allowed into your halls.”

Fundin did not smile back, but bowed again.

“I am sorry, I should have warned you,” Celebrimbor said quietly, while Annatar received baffled, stuttered assurances of their service from the younger dwarves for a second time.

“You should have,” Fundin said, his disapproval evident in his tone. “And yet you didn't. But there is no changing the past. What has been done has been done.”

“Fundin, I – I am sorry,” Celebrimbor said. “He wanted to be received like any other traveller. It was his wish to remain unnamed until such a time as introductions were inevitable. I apologize if I forced you into a quandary.”

“That you did indeed,” said Fundin, his tone hard. “I understand that you were bound to respect your friend's wishes, but your obligations are not only to your friend. You should have told us!” Fundin took a deep breath. “You of all Elves must know that it is no light matter to bring one of Aulë's people to our doorstep. You have forced the hand of the king himself tonight, Celebrimbor, and you will have to answer for that.”

“I know,” Celebrimbor said quietly. “Believe me when I say that neither he nor I meant any harm by coming here. Annatar is an admirer of the arts and crafts, and a master of both. I told him much about my time here, and he wanted to see the halls of Khazad-Dûm and the Dwarven Kingdom for himself. To be honest, he told me that he would have preferred not to be introduced at all if his nature should rouse trouble or suspicion, but I explained to him that you cannot go nameless among Dwarves if you ever want them to trust you.”

“In this case you also should not surprise them with a Maia,” Fundin said.

“He did not come here as a messenger of Aulë,” Celebrimbor said quickly. “He has not acted in that role for a long time. He came here as my friend. I had hoped you would receive him as the person he is today, no matter who or what he might once have been – just like you did with me, all those years ago.”

Fundin pondered these words. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his braided hair with a sigh. “Well, it is as good an explanation as one could hope to receive in such a situation. In any case, it will be Durin you'll have to answer to, not me.” He lifted his gaze and looked over at his younger cousins, who were quietly speaking to Durin's nephews. “Ho, Ari, Nali! Come here when you are done! We must inform the king of Celebrimbor's arrival – and tell him of the friend that he has brought with him!”

The two younger Dwarves came over to where Celebrimbor and Fundin were standing, and Fundin gave them quiet instructions in Khuzdul, after which both cousins quickly took their leave and set off to announce the arrival of their guests to the king of Khazad-Dûm.

“Do you think I could show Annatar the closed doors while your cousins tell the king we are here?” Celebrimbor said.

Fundin frowned. “You are asking a lot of me tonight, Celebrimbor.” His Sindarin name came off the dwarf's lips with a distinct sharpness. “You will always have a right to these doors, since you are the one who built them, but you gifted them to the King of Khazad-Dûm, and he alone can decide whether or not your friend can be allowed to learn their secrets. Be that as it may, we should not let the king wait – come now, and when you talk to him you can bring before him all the strange requests that you have brought with you.”

Celebrimbor nodded, and after Fundin and the nephews of the king had turned around, he threw Annatar an apologetic glance.

Annatar gave him an enquiring look in response.

“Later,” Celebrimbor said, so quietly the Dwarves would not hear them, and then he faced forward again as they stepped under the arc of the doors.

*

Behind the gates there lay a small anteroom with a low ceiling. It was illuminated by the welcoming yellow glow of iron-latticed lamps that hung from the ceiling on great chains. Glowing mosaics of coloured stone illuminated and completed the carvings on the walls, which told the story of the first Khazad who had come here to make a dominion for their people under the Misty Mountains after the Awakening of Durin the First at Mount Gundabad.

As he stepped into the room Celebrimbor felt like he had simultaneously stepped through a window in time. There was a rush of memories and for a moment he was near six hundred years younger again: he had just been allowed into the Dwarven kingdom under the mountain and out of the November rain through heavy gates of iron, with his hair plastered to his skull, his soaked cloak sticking to his ribs and shoulders while rain and mud sloshed in his worn boots. He had waited here in this antechamber – back then devoid of any peoples that were not Dwarves – after the doors had been bolted shut behind him once more. The few Khazad who had been there at that time had watched him with surprise and suspicion, wondering what to do about one of the Eldar turning up on their doorstep, wet and ragged and shivering like a stray dog.

And when even the antechamber had emptied of people, save for Celebrimbor still hunched in on himself on a stone bench, trying to rub some warmth into his arms and calves, the chief of the guard had approached him at last. “What do you want?” he had asked him, to which Celebrimbor had replied, “A place to stay, and work to occupy my hands.”

The guardsman had given him a long look. Even to this day Celebrimbor did not know what the Dwarf had seen when he had looked at the soaked, ragged Noldo on his porch, but the dwarf had not sent him back out into the rain. Instead, he had told Celebrimbor to wait, and after a while, another dwarf had approached him, this one a foreman of the foundries, judging by the golden belt buckle with two crossed hammers.

He hadn't asked his name or why Celebrimbor had come to Khazad-Dûm of all places. All he had said had been, “You said you can work?”

“I worked in the smithies of Nargothrond. If my work was good enough for one king, it might be good enough to please another,” Celebrimbor had answered, and if any recognition or realisation had come to the foreman at the name of the city and who inhabited it, the Dwarf did not let on. He did not ask Celebrimbor why he had left Nargothrond.

“Come,” the Dwarf, who would later introduce himself as Narvi Silverhand, had said. “Tomorrow we shall discuss what to do with you, and if you are allowed to stay, we'll see how good you are. Tonight, though, you need dry clothes and a bed. Follow me.”

Past and present seemed to coalesce and merge. On the bench where Celebrimbor had once waited, lonely and lost and with chattering teeth, a young woman was sitting now, one ankle resting on the knee of the other leg, a pencil behind her ears as she scratched something down on parchment with a quill. Meanwhile two gruff Dwarven travellers from the Blue Mountains had taken a seat next to her, their voices lost in the tapestry of sound woven from Sindarin, Westron, and innumerable dialects of Khuzdul. Where closed doors had once protected the Dwarven kingdom against outsiders and solemn silence had filled its halls, today throngs of scholars, visitors, merchants and artists came and went through the open gates, all of whom had come here for trade, research, families and relatives, or just to look upon the wonders of Khazad-Dûm.

“It must be strange to return here after all this time,” Annatar said, startling Celebrimbor out of his musings. “To see the changes that have taken place here in your absence.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. A lot has changed; there are a lot more foreigners here, for a start – but then again, much is still the same as it was then.” Celebrimbor gestured at the mosaics as they ascended the stairs to the next room, and Annatar slowed his pace.

When his friend had not caught up after a few moments, Celebrimbor stopped on the stairs and turned around. He could not help but smile as he watched Annatar regarding each of the mosaics with great interest, which reminded Celebrimbor a lot of his own reaction when he had first climbed these stairs, nearly unable to tear his eyes away from the marvellous stonework: it was the Dwarves’ history of their people, which the Khazad had set in stone with their own hands. The images pictured the history from the Awakening of Durin the Deathless to the first mines that had been dug, and then on into the noontide of the Dwarven kingdoms after the first mithril veins had been found.

Annatar seemed to notice his gaze, because he turned to look up at Celebrimbor, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all.” Celebrimbor laughed. “I just thought that the strangest thing about being back is having you here with me.”

Annatar climbed the stairs to meet him. “You don't seem to be the only one thinking that. My presence here seems to raise objections.” He paused, then said, “I could leave, you know.”

“As if you would, now that you have the chance to see Khazad-Dûm at last,” Celebrimbor replied as they both moved to follow Fundin, who had been waiting for them a few steps further up. “Besides, I am holding out hope that they are not objecting to your presence on principle. I surprised them in a frankly inappropriate manner, and as Fundin said, there is no precedent for a Maia coming to a Dwarven kingdom. Thus it must be the king who sets the precedent. I am not overly worried, though. Dwarves are secretive, but the mutual friendship between Ost-in-Edhil and Khazad-Dûm would not have been possible if Durin himself had not desired to open his realm.”

Celebrimbor lowered his voice and leaned a bit closer as he added in a mockingly conspiratorial tone, “Besides, I am not about to allow them to throw us out without hearing us out first.”

“Us?” Annatar echoed.

“Well, we came here together and therefore I won't stay if they send you away,” Celebrimbor replied quietly. “If push comes to shove, I am going to tell them as much.”

“This seems like a splendid way to offend every single dignitary in Dwarrowdelf for decades to come,” Annatar said dryly.

“Offending dignitaries has been the main pastime of my family for the last two ages. It is a particular talent of ours,” Celebrimbor said with a wry smile and nonchalance that he didn't quite feel. “And so, coincidentally, is getting what we want – though I do take care not to make use of either talent too often.”

Annatar hmphed. “Let us hope that King Durin takes as kindly to the quandary you and your entitled Fëanorian attitudes have presented him with as you make him out to be.”

“Oh, I am sure he will be curious more than anything else. He is an unusual dwarf in some respects,” Celebrimbor added. “In fact, I think you might like him.”

*

 

Fundin did not lead them down the main roads and through the city; instead, he beckoned them to follow him into one of many side tunnels, which – as Celebrimbor knew – looped around and between the great halls of the Dwarven City. The tunnels were narrow, but well-lit with glowing stones set into the walls and the ground, casting a soft golden shimmer over the rough walls and floors.

Since they avoided the bustle of the city and the main thoroughfares, these tunnels were a fast way to travel great distances under the mountains. Despite this, they were nearly empty. Since these labyrinthine bypasses lacked any waymarkers whatsoever, it was fairly easy to get lost in them. Celebrimbor had heard more than enough stories about curious Men or Elves wandering off to investigate those tunnels in the first years after Khazad-Dûm had opened its gates to the outside world, only to find themselves suddenly on the deeper, more dangerous levels of Hadhodrond.

In the subsequent years, word had obviously gotten around that using these tunnels was a bad idea for everyone who didn't have the Dwarves' sure-footed way of orienting themselves underground without sun or stars as points of reference. Celebrimbor knew from the Gwaith-i-Mírdain's technical correspondences with Dwarves of Khazad-Dûm that these side tunnels were mainly used by maintenance crews and messengers nowadays, or otherwise for transports that were too delicate to make their way through the bustling great halls and the busy streets of the city.

Or, as it were, by unexpected visitors who had to be brought before the King of Khazad-Dûm without delay.

***

The palace had not changed much in the time Celebrimbor had been gone. The throne room was hewn from rough stone, and gilded reliefs covered the walls and floor. A columned walkway, lit by bronze braziers that hung from every column, led up to the throne, and fixed to the walls were tapestries displaying the emblems of every Dwarven house that had sworn allegiance to Durin the First upon their Awakening under the mountains. The entire palace was a marvel of bronze, gold, and grey – a mixture of stone and fire, recalling the elements that had been attributed to Aulë ever since the beginning of time. It was an impressive demonstration of the wonders that could be called forth from rough stone with will, skill, and tenacity, and what greatness could be achieved if one understood to read and work with the structure and weight of the stone, instead of working the mountain by force – much like a carpenter might work with the grain of the wood instead of against it.

A carpet of brown and gold carpet ran up to a dais of stone, upon which stood the Throne of Durin the Deathless, first and eldest of the Fathers of the Khazad. The throne was made of polished black stone shot through with veins of gold and mithril, which flared in the light of the braziers as if the stone possessed an inner fire of its own. One step lower and to the right of the throne stood the chair of the steward that Fundin usually occupied.

Waiting before the dais were Buri and Bori, their backs toward the throne.

Standing at the very edge of the raised platform was another dwarf: tall by Dwarven measure, with a serious face and a long white beard threaded through ornamental bronze loops. His piercing eyes were amber in the fire-shine, and on his vest he bore the insignia of an arch of seven stars over a crown. He was clad in black and gold, and upon his brow rested the heavy crown of the Kings of Khazad-Dûm.

Fundin threw them a brief glance over his shoulder as if to make sure Annatar and Celebrimbor were still there, and then the three of them stopped in front of the steps leading up to the dais while the king's nephews, Ari and Nali, took their place next to Buri and Bori, hands clasped behind their backs and eyes forward.

Fundin bowed deeply. “Greetings to you, Durin³, Third of his Name, the Wise, and Father under the Mountain – my king. As you wished, I went to the gates to welcome our old friend Celebrimbor Curufinwë, and the friend he has brought with him, of whom my cousins must have told you already.” He spoke Sindarin, no doubt out of consideration for their guests, for there was usually no reason for one Khazad to use the tongue of the Sindar with one another.

“They have indeed, Fundin, Son of Finli. And most curious tidings they were,” Durin replied, likewise in Sindarin, his sharp eyes roving over Annatar. The Maia was looking up at him, standing tall and proud, and as of yet had shown no inclination to either bow or kneel before him.

Slowly, Durin descended the steps, each movement slow and well-measured, and he stopped only on the second-to-last step, which left him roughly at eye level with his two guests.

Durin shifted slightly, so he was facing Celebrimbor. “Á-namárië, Telperinquar Cúrufinwion,” Durin said in Quenya. “It has been a long time since we last saw each other. I trust you have been well.”

“Mânazulrû azarul tharakhnúmin”,⁴ Celebrimbor replied with a slight bow.

Durin nodded, then turned until he was facing Annatar. Both king and Maia looked at each other, sizing each other up, and the four younger Dwarves shifted uncomfortably next to their king.

And then Durin spoke.

“Anaškadâz aþar mânâz-eru-oz tharwhan-em-âzir, Annatarâz Aȝûlêzazi."^{5 6}

Not once in one hundred and fifty years spent in Annatar's company had Celebrimbor done anything that had managed to elicit so much as a confused expression from the Maia. Now, however, Celebrimbor was treated to the unique and supremely amusing sight of Annatar being not just confused, but downright dumbfounded. His mask of impassive calm was gone: his mouth had fallen slightly open as he stared at Durin, whose slow smile let on that he had very much planned for that exact reaction when he had used Valarin of all tongues to greet the Maia.

Annatar seemed to notice his derailed features, and quickly collected himself. His calm slid back into place over his disbelief, his face now an expression of open amazement and interest. “I do confess I had not thought to encounter a speaker of my kins-tongue here under the mountain,” he said. “I believed that this language was no longer spoken on this side of the sea at all.”

“And for all but a few places, your estimate would have been right, Annatar Aulëndil,” Durin said. “But we Khazad know where we have come from, and above all else, we put great value in remembering our roots and traditions. But I also take pride in remembering the roots and traditions of others, and I honour them when I can – especially so when they might be shared by both of our peoples. I never thought I would welcome one of the fellowship of our Maker in my own kingdom, both for the past joy and the sorrow that we have experienced with him. But once abandoned is not lost forever, and I see it as a sign of renewed friendship between our peoples that you have come with a friend of ours through the open doors he once made. So – be welcome in my halls, friend of Aulë.”

Annatar regarded Durin with an expression of newfound respect and curiosity. “I can admit without shame that I never expected to be greeted in such a manner by the King of Khazad-Dûm, or indeed any other host. Your welcome and your hospitality surpass the greatest praise that minstrels tell of you – and not only for the sake of your past and the affiliation we once shared, I feel honoured to receive them.” And then the proud Maia took a step forward and bowed, briefly lowering his own head beneath the height of Durin's.

Fundin and the younger Dwarves watched this entire exchange in amazement. To Celebrimbor's best guess, even they had not known that their king was able to speak the ancient tongue of the Powers themselves.

Durin's eyes remained on Annatar, until the Maia had gracefully righted himself once more and stepped back. Only then did the king look at Celebrimbor again. “I take it that you will not object to a welcoming feast in your favour,” he said. “It has been too long since your last visit, and there are many people who would see you while you are here. You and your friend,” he added.

“I apologize for not visiting sooner,” Celebrimbor laughed. “My friend here has kept me quite busy and our work has kept me firmly tied to my workshop in Ost-in-Edhil. I would have come earlier, had I found the time.”

“It must have been extraordinary work indeed if it managed to keep you away from the mountains for so long,” Durin said.

“You may see it for yourself, if you wish. We have brought some of it along with us,” Celebrimbor said, and he saw Durin's eyes light up at those words.

“It would be my pleasure,” the king said. “But I must mind my duties as your host – tonight you must want baths and refreshments and an opportunity to rest. You can have your usual quarters, Celebrimbor, and I am sure we will find suitable accommodations for your friend as well. Fundin, I trust you can lead Celebrimbor to his room, and find another one for Aulëndil.”

Fundin bowed.

“I suggest you go and accommodate yourselves,” Durin told them. “Make use of the next few hours and rest a bit. I expect word has gotten around that you are here, and you might find a lot of old friends knocking at your door before long.”

*

After Durin had dismissed them, Annatar followed Ari, who had been tasked to find the quartermaster in order to arrange for fitting accommodations for a Maia, while Celebrimbor was accompanied by Fundin, their steps tracing a very old, but still familiar, path through the long stone hallways.

At last Fundin stopped before a door in the west wing of the palace, turning the wheels on the rune-lock until the locking mechanism inside the door gave a soft click and the door swung open. “Here you are, your old rooms.” Fundin said and held open the door for him. “You've seen the combination, I trust, and you can change it to your liking. Only tell the quartermaster about it before you leave – he already has enough trouble with doors that have been locked with unknown combinations by forgetful guests.”

“Thank you. I will take care to change it back before I leave.” Even as he spoke, Celebrimbor took in the familiar geometry of the room – the lamps on the walls, the bookcases in one corner, the hearth, the armchairs, the desk, the bed in the next room. Then his eyes followed the slanted beam of moonlight that fell into the room through a high, small window in the wall, and he turned around. “You have added windows!”

“Hm, yes,” Fundin said with a shrug. “It was no easy feat to bring the light such a long way through the stone and it took our glass-cutters a great deal of time to focus the light enough to bring it this far into the mountain, but we've learned that Men and Eldar seem to … wither without the light of the sun and moon if they stay below-ground too long. We found that giving them the outer rooms with windows was the best possible way to accommodate them.”

Celebrimbor, who was already standing with one foot on the stone desk and trying to make out by which means the Dwarves had managed to bring the light so far and bright into the mountains, turned back and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so do I still count as a surface-dweller despite all the time I have spent living here and studying your customs?” He leapt down from the desk and threw his satchel onto the bed, starting to unpack it.

“You do,” Fundin said, not taking him up on the jest. “You are a fine Noldo, and one might even go so far as to say that you act quite Dwarvish for one of the Eldar, but you still have a lot to learn, Kurfi – particularly about our customs.”

Celebrimbor froze. “Fundin – ”

“I know you meant no harm,” Fundin went on without heeding his interjection. “But you must remember that Khazad-Dûm is not Ost-in-Edhil.”

Celebrimbor slowly turned around. “Fundin, about earlier at the gate – I want to apologize.”

Fundin waved it off. “Yes, you said as much, and I've heard it. Now get yourself cleaned up and change into some fresh clothes. By now, every single one of your old friends must have heard that you're here, and they'll all want to talk to you.”

“One of my friends is standing on my doorstep right now, and I would very much like to talk to him,” Celebrimbor said quietly.

Fundin's expression mellowed slightly at these words. “As would I. But now is not the moment. We will have enough time to do that later.” He held up his hand when Celebrimbor opened his mouth to protest. “For now we both have something to do. I must take care of the details of the evening. You, on the other hand, are our guest tonight, and many very important people will want to have a word with you. You should not keep them waiting.” And with these words, Fundin left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Celebrimbor looked at the shimmering bronze inlays in the shape of vines on the inside of the door for a while, then turned away and looked at his baggage, half strewn over the bed.

However much he wanted to speak to Fundin and talk to him about what seemed to trouble him so, there was not much he could do about it right now. Instead, he spoke a word of illumination and touched the lampstones embedded into the walls. They lit up, dousing the room in a soft, orange light. Then he set to unpacking his clothes and folding them.

No sooner had he washed and changed into clean clothes than there came a knock at his door. Celebrimbor crossed the room, trying to close the uppermost button of his vest with the left hand while he pulled the door open with his right. “Annatar!” he exclaimed. “I was wondering where they had taken you! How did you know where to find me?”

“Some of us,” Annatar said as he stepped past Celebrimbor and into the room, “are not naturally averse to asking directions.” He turned around and took in the room. “Hm, you'd think they would have given me the rooms with two bookshelves, considering I do not require sleep.”

“These are my old chambers; half of these books I either collected or wrote myself,” Celebrimbor said. “Though you are welcome to come here and read them any time. Also – if by 'averse to asking directions' you are referring to that one time in Mithlond – I knew exactly where we were.”

“Oh, I am certain you did. Unfortunately, you didn't know where everything else was.” Annatar smirked.

“It had been six hundred years since I'd last been there and the port had grown to twice its former size, so bear with me,” Celebrimbor said. He came to stand next to his friend, his eyes wandering the rows of bookshelves as he continued absent-mindedly fiddling with his button that proved remarkably resistant to being buttoned up.

“So your room doesn't have bookshelves?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Just one,” Annatar said, and he somehow made it sound like it was an insult.

“Well, if you find yourself running out of reading material during the few days we are here, you can always come over here – or visit the library. I promise, not even you would get bored there.”

“The library?” At those words, Annatar finally turned his head to look at him.

“The Great Library of Khazad-Dûm. Thousands upon thousands of books, covering topics from mining to architecture and mineralogy, to genealogy and languages. If I were to name all the subsections you’ll find there, we'd still be here tomorrow. It is called the greatest and most comprehensive collection of knowledge Middle-earth has ever seen – and rightly so, from what I can tell.”

“And one that you have somehow failed to mention is open to the public every time we spoke of it,” Annatar said with narrowed eyes. “This, I assume, is for reasons I would be most interested to hear.”

Celebrimbor met Annatar’s eyes head-on. “Oh, don't you try the guilt angle on me! It was supposed to be a surprise! Besides, the Dwarves themselves don't go out of their way to announce that it is open to the public, the opening of the Dwarven Realms aside. And furthermore – had you known of it beforehand, you wouldn't have waited until Durin approved of our visit. You would have picked apart the mountain with your bare hands to get at it.”

Annatar didn't deny the allegation, and he didn't look at all guilty about it, either.

“I will show it to you while we are here,” Celebrimbor assured him. “In fact, I had firmly planned to do it tomorrow.”

“Yes, if you'll have managed to get yourself dressed by then.” Annatar glanced at him askance. “Are you going to close that button anytime soon or should I go and tell the other guests that you've lost the wrestling match with your attire and won't be able to attend the feast?”

Celebrimbor gave him a puzzled look, then looked down at himself and noticed that he was still picking at his vest, and had gotten no further in closing it. “Oh.” He stopped his absent-minded fiddling and closed the last button with a swift, decisive motion. “No need for that. I just wasn't paying proper attention – you have a way of distracting me.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow. “Oh, have I?”

“Seeing how you barged in here without so much as a 'good evening' and started quizzing me about Khazad-Dûm with a few not-so-subtle accusations thrown in – yes, it takes up quite a bit of my attention just to navigate our conversations sometimes. Sometimes you are like a focusing lens for thoughts, and at other times you're all but acting like a diffuser. You're quite a handful to have a discourse with – and I'm very much looking forward to seeing how the Khazad are going to deal with you.”

A glint of fire lit up in Annatar's eyes, briefly giving them an orange-reddish tint. “If they are half as cunning as King Durin, I have no doubts that it will be a most entertaining evening.”

Celebrimbor laughed. “He impressed you, didn't he? Well, I figured he would try something like that to get back at us for showing up unannounced. I wager pulling the rug out from under a Maia has given him enough satisfaction to make up for our breach of etiquette.”

“Our breach of – ha, of course. So long as we are travelling together, I'll be lumped in with you.” Annatar grimaced. “Well, I can't tell you how glad I am that I was able to take the fall for your insolence, Tyelperinquar.”

“I knew nothing would give you greater pleasure, true friend that you are,” Celebrimbor teased, walking over to his desk. There he picked up a hair-clasp and threaded his braids through the small silver ornament at the back of his head.

“If this is how you treat your friends, I won't be surprised if your Dwarven acquaintances are going to have us thrown out before sunrise,” Annatar said with a snort.

“Oh, don't worry, my friends are usually able to give as good as they get,” Celebrimbor said, throwing Annatar a meaningful side-glance in the mirror that hung on the wall next to the desk.

“In this case I am very much looking forward to meeting them in person.” Annatar's reflection flashed him a quick, sharp-toothed smile.

Celebrimbor gave his mirror-image a final once-over, picked up two gift boxes from his desk and turned around. “I'm sure you will get along splendidly,” he said, an amused glint in his eyes. He walked past Annatar, pulled the door open, and gestured with a flourish for the Maia to walk through before him. “Shall we?”

---

1 For further reference, see shadowgraph and schlieren experiments.

2 ëala: the spirit of a being who does not require a body to exist, but can be clothed in a fana, see the Ainur; contrast with the fëar of incarnate beings.

3 “There he [Durin I] lived so long that he was known far and wide as Durin the Deathless. […] five times and heir was born in his House so like to his Forefather that he received the name of Durin. He was indeed held by the Dwarves to be the Deathless that returned; for they have many strange tales and beliefs concerning themselves and their fate in the world.” (LotR, Appendix A, III Durin's Folk). This would point towards any Durin being exceptionally long-lived, as well as veiled in strange tales and myths by their own kin. Durin's ability to speak Valarin would certainly tie into this.

4 “Blessed be the hour of our meeting.”

Mânazul-rû (“manazul”(MNZ) = to bless”; “ru” = imperative marker = blessed be!); azarul (AZR, from val. a aþar = the time) tharakhn-úm-in (contracted from: tharakhnú-om-in: tharak (THRK) = meeting, encounter; -om = genitive singular marker; in = possessive marker first person plural, so: tharaknú-om-in = “of meeting-ours”) (“Blessed be the hour of our meeting)

Note the similarities to Valarin later on, also note that Khuzdul is an agglutinative language. In contractions, “o” yields to “ú”, because it is stressed. If either of the vowels is long (û/ô), the contracted vowel is also going to be long (→ û). If neither vowel is stressed, the stem vocal of the word will be omitted.

5 “The hour of our meeting be blessed as well, Annatar Aulëndil.”

Anaškadâz (too – from anaškad = ring, but also: “including, too, as well”) aþar (time, nom. sg.) mânâz-eru-oz (mânâz = blessed; -eru = imperative marker (c.f. Khuzdul); -oz = singular marker)

tharwan-em-âzir; tharnwan = meeting, -em = genitive marker (“of the meeting”), -âzir (possessive marker first person plural) thus: tharwhan-em(genitive)-âzir (our) = meeting-of-our → of our meeting

(Syntax: as well time -nominative-singular blessed-be -imperative marker-singular marker meeting -genitive-singular marker of -possessive marker our)

Also note the lexical and syntactic similarities between Valarin and Khuzdul.

6 On Durin's address of Annatar: Aulë in Valarin would be Aȝûlêz, which can be transformed into an ethnonym by adding “-zi”, which is a genitive marker that translates to “of”. So Aȝûlêz-zi, contracted to Aȝûlêzi would mean “of Aulë”. In this particular instance, however, Durin adds a marker that is usually used with adjectives with a past aspect or a marker of the past participle: “-za”. Aȝûlêzaz-zi thus means “having been of Aulë” (formerly, now no longer).

---

Chapter End Notes

This fic is part 2 of the series The Unread Visions of a Higher Dream. If you want to start the series from the beginning, I suggest you read the first part called Equinox before continuing this fic.

 

← Go back to read Part 1 of this series: Equinox