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

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IV.2

In which two friends rise to greatness - together and apart from each other.

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Letters from Eregion

 

14 ^th of October, 1146 S.A.

 

Dear Fundin,

I told you I would write and as I said, it is a promise I intend to keep. So! I have safely reached the settlement that my aunt Artanis and her husband have built and they have gracefully accepted me into their midst. They say that they will build a city here, but for now it isn't much more than an assembly of a few walls and houses and an abundance of flets up in holly trees. (I don't know if Dwarves are familiar with the concept of flets, but I don't believe so. They are a unique dwelling of the Sindar and, among the Noldor, the Galadrim. Flets are wooden platforms affixed to trees. They are round in shape and range from very small to big enough to build tree-houses and palaces upon. They must seem very strange to you and truth be told, now that I force myself to explain their concept to an outsider, it only occurs to me how strange I find this method of living as well. Then again, no wild animals and no orcs or goblins can catch you unawares up there and you can safely span a great territory by connecting flets with bridges and ropes and stairs.)

The spirit here is very much one of new beginnings, which I like very much. I'm not much use when it comes to building, since the only thing I've ever learned to do properly is smithing, which is not much needed here at the time. However, I am a fast learner and I find that I like working with wood almost as much as I like working with stone and metals. There is much to do, and I see and learn something new every day.

It is strange to be outside and among Elves again – at times, I miss the straightforward company of Dwarves. I feel like I've gotten rusty regarding some of the finer points of Elvish communication, and more than once my aunt has asked me not to be so brash when I only intended to be concise and to the point. I will try to do better in the future, but the difference amuses me greatly.

How are you doing? Are there any news under the three mountains? Oh, and by the way, I have only now gotten around to re-reading A Tale of Three Kingdoms, which you gave me and I noticed an annotation that you've made in the margins of p. 422, concerning the judgement of faith and loyalty. There is a word in there that is kanarûz, which I am almost sure means undying loyalty and devotion to a single sworn partner, but which is in the next sentence contrasted with the word mídrûl, which I thought meant the exact same. Could you explain to me what the difference is?

I hope you are all doing well, and for your sake especially, I hope that King Durin leaves you enough time for your beloved books. Write to me, if you can; I cannot wait to hear from you!

Kurfinni Kurufinwion

 

 

5 ^th of November, 1146

 

Dear Fundin,

Thank you so much for your quick reply.

I am happy to hear that you make good use of the free evenings that you have gained, now that you must no longer lecture me on language. I hope that answering my questions by way of a letter doesn't take all that newly-acquired free time away from you. It seems I cannot stop asking questions, not even from afar.

As you suggested, I looked up the definition of kanarûz and mídrûl in Skafi's Dictonary of Western Khuzdul, and it helped me immensely. It would never have occurred to me to linguistically distinguish between a loyalty that is directed at a worthy object or person as opposed to an unworthy one. Although I must add that we Eldar surely should not complain in this aspect since we tend to distinguish between the strangest ideas, which are frequently specific to a single tribe and its views and mores. This of course means that, in the end, we Eldar often enough don't even understand each other. For a race that likes to claim the mastery of language as one of its finest traits, we certainly do have a lot of difficulty understanding our distant cousins.

We are beginning to prepare for winter right now, and we hope to finish the last ongoing building projects before the first snowfall. After that we must settle down for the snows and the storms and wait for spring to come. Four months of keeping still, with nothing to do but read and write journals! I completely forgot about this significant drawback of working overground! I am afraid you'll get a great many letters from me, Fundin, but I hope that you'll forgive me, knowing that I cannot keep myself occupied with anything else and thus must turn to writing curious and wordy letters to the only one who can be bothered to answer them. (I've always known that Narvi isn't the most verbose, but his letters are spectacularly monosyllabic and for every five questions I ask him, he only ever answers three at most.)

Please tell me what you and your brother are up to, as I would otherwise have to wait until next summer to know half of what he's done this winter.

Kindest regards to you and Narvi,

Kurfi

 

PS: It would be better to address your letters to Tyelperinquar, since that is the name that I go by around here and there was a lot of confusion the last time when the messenger couldn't deliver his letter to “Kurfi”. It caused enough of a fuss that even I am not keen on a repeat performance.

 

 

6 ^th of July, 1288

 

Dear Fundin,

As promised, I'm writing to you again as the city is being finished. It seems so strange to even write this: the city is finished!

It must not be quite as startling to you, seeing how I have kept you up to date in many letters over a long time, but standing here before its walls and seeing the finishing touches being put to what we've been working on for decades, it is unimaginable that such a project should ever come to an end. I feel like we must have emptied out every quarry in the radius of thirty miles (or fifty kilometres – I know, I know, I must lose this Elven habit of using nonsensical metrics).

To say that a city is finished is never quite right, of course, since these dwellings keep expanding and growing as time progresses. However, Artanis and Celeborn have finished their dwelling and the first ring of walls is up. Everyone else has a house to live in, should they desire one. However, many of the wood-elves still prefer to stay up in their flets. When I asked one why that is, she just told me that she doesn't trust a roof of stone and shingles not to collapse on her head while she sleeps. I asked her if she trusted a wooden contraption in a tree so much more to protect her if the wood rots or the tree ever falls, but apparently that was the wrong answer, because now she won't talk to me.

Also, Artanis has finally allowed me to found my own guild!

You know that I have been wanting to bring metalworking into this city for a long, long time. For whatever reason, Celeborn always had some reservations about letting me do some crafting of my own where I don't have to answer immediately to him or my aunt. Perhaps he is afraid that my Fëanorion blood will come out and I will create my own Silmarils and throw him out of the city.

On that last aspect, he may not be entirely wrong. There are times when I would like to throw him out, but only because he has been horrendously unagreeable ever since we first met. I don't quite know what I have done to offend him, but perhaps my mere existence suffices for him to see me as a thorn in his side.

Thankfully, Artanis has been more on my side of things lately (something that must have annoyed Celeborn further) and finally overruled him regarding not letting me have a guild of my own. However, she made me promise, and I quote, 'not to do anything rash or precarious, and if you absolutely must do so, consult with me first.' I am not quite sure how I feel about being watched that way. I am almost three thousand years old and I'd like to think I could do without the supervision of elders.

Then again, I know that I would be obliged to do the same with any liege – and my liege she is, no matter who else she might be. In truth it is my problem, because I see her more as my aunt than my sworn lady, and whatever she tells me always goes two ways. I know this because, just as she struggles to differentiate between ordering around a nephew or a subordinate, I struggle to distinguish between being ordered around by an older relative and being given lawful instructions by my superior. We always tend to be a lot more ungracious towards demands from our own kin than from our sworn lords and ladies, for there is always something personal to any order, which makes us question orders that in fact only bear obedience.

Be that as it may, I am very excited at the thought of founding my own guild and looking for like-minded people who might appreciate smithing and metalworking for other reasons than its uses in warfare. We live in peaceful times now, and there are many more beautiful things that should be made from iron and ore, gold and silver, than swords and shield and armour.

I am glad to hear that you are doing well – and imagine my surprise when I read that Floki had asked you to be the best man at his and Birta's wedding! You must tell me how you ever managed to come by that honour! I wouldn't have imagined you and Floki as friends – indeed, he is the last dwarf I could imagine holding a conversation with you. All he's got in his head are stones and iron (I leave it to you how literally you want to take that), and I can't imagine that he's all too interested in your office affairs. Usually only the mere mention of administrative tasks is enough to send him running.

(Then again Birta is perhaps the one dwarf in the entire kingdom of Khazad-Dûm who differs even more from Floki in those aspects than you, and she still decided to marry him, even; so I guess if I should be surprised about anything at all, it would be that.)

All the same, please give my best wishes to Floki and Birta. I would write Floki his own letter, but I know he would simply throw it away without opening it, because the only thing he's ever read voluntarily in his life are assembly instructions and the drinks list at the Sapphire Dell.

I hope you are well and give my regards to Narvi, too!

Tyelperinquar

 

 

17 ^th of June, 1290

 

Dear Fundin,

Thank you for sending me the books, I cannot tell you how ardently I have waited to hold them in my hands and show them to my students! The Eldar are not bad at metalworking at all, but there is a difference between our approach and the way you Khazad are so intimately familiar with the elements of the Earth. They will learn some appreciation of your arts tomorrow when I show them, of that I am sure.

To be honest, I never thought I would enjoy teaching, as it always appeared to entail suspending my own studies in favour of teaching others; also, it seemed to me it would require staying in place and repeating old already-known wisdom instead of forging ahead and pioneering new fields of science. However, at your suggestion I have taken on a few students who seemed promising. It's been a few months now and I must admit that I stand corrected. I think I understand now why some masters always wanted nothing more than to take on new apprentice classes: there are few things that are more satisfying than being able to lead and teach bright minds, to broaden their horizons and see how they reflect your own teachings back at you, changed and refined and altogether different and spectacular. In the end I am not even slowed in progressing with my own projects either, because the additional perspectives of untainted minds can make a world of difference when it comes to creative problem-solving.

All in all, the guild is thriving. Indeed, it is getting more interest than I ever thought possible. Apparently a lot of people are looking for new approaches to familiar crafts, especially if it doesn't come with an exclusively utilitarian approach. We create what we love because we find joy in it, not because we seek to make something more effective or create things of utility. Of course we do aim for usability as well – we spent a great many months trying to bind light to stones until we succeeded with a prototype, for example. Still, utilitarianism is not the prime maxim of our creation, and beauty often justifies its own existence.

You know, I was actually thinking of sending you one of these stones as soon as we've established that they're a reliable light source and don't burn out as quick as candles (which they still do from time to time). I imagine it would be a great relief for the entirety of Khazad-Dûm if you didn't have to rely on candles any longer!

Please tell me what you think of this plan – I wouldn't want to send in one of these stones unannounced and then come across as the precocious Noldorin know-it-all who wants to tell the Khazad how to best live their life under the mountains.

Ost-in-Edhil – which is what this city is named now, apparently – is ever growing. We are in fact currently building a second district – or ring – to the city that is big enough to hold all the new inhabitants and acolytes, apprentices and travellers who keep coming in. Lately, not only Elves come to seek us out, but more and more humans and a few Dwarves as well.

Naturally, Celeborn was against allowing them into the city and Artanis had some misgivings as well, but I made a case on their behalf along with many of the other guilds, all of whom were convinced that we could only profit from more knowledge and different perspectives. My aunt and uncle didn't look like they agreed, but they didn't say anything more on the matter and the next day, everyone was allowed inside the walls. I'm not sure if they are angry with me, but when I asked Artanis she only told me not to worry and keep an eye on the newcomers in my workshop.

I'm glad to hear that little Falda is growing up well! If your tales are anything to go by, she's quite a handful to deal with! She's taking after her father, it seems. Then again, I think Floki wouldn't want it any other way. I imagine him gifting Falda her first tongs and metal-wire as soon as she is old enough to hold them properly. If I know Floki at all, he is going to teach her everything he knows about smithing, and quite a few things beyond that. I just hope you as her godfather are going to make sure that she doesn't miss out on the marvellous fountain of knowledge that is to be found in books. It would be a pity if Falda grew up as allergic to words and ink as her father.

That being said – and forgive me if this is too personal – you only ever write of other folk’s families. I know you are close with your brother and your extended family, but you have yet to write anything about having a family yourself. I know that your position makes this hard, but I'm sure King Durin wouldn't stand in your way if you ever thought of making more time to pursue founding your own family. Is this something you are planning or would like to do?

Please give my kindest regards to Narvi, Floki and Birta, and, of course, Falda.

Tyelperinquar

 

9 ^th of September, 1290

 

Dear Fundin,

Forgive me the delay in responding to your latest message. The Guild of Metallurgy and Jewel-smiths is ever-growing and I am ashamed to say that I was too taken up in our latest project to remember your letter until I discovered it among my journals by chance.

On the matter of families: touché. It seems that we are the same in that regard – hopeless bachelors only ever in pursuit of more knowledge and another edge on our peers. I should have known better than to ask, since my own reasons for not pursuing settling down can only be your own as well.

Artanis has brought up the topic of marriage more than once, but I must confess that I always sought to evade her as quickly as possible, because the thought of seeking a wife merely for political reasons always made me deeply uncomfortable. As it stands, though, political considerations are the only reasons I could give myself for marrying, for I don't feel the need to bind myself to someone, and verily I balk at the thought of spending all the time that I could spend in my workshop doting on a wife or a toddler. One needs to have desires and feelings for their partner to be happy in such a scenario, and I currently have no desire to marry nor do I harbour even a trace of feelings for a prospective partner whom I would like to keep close to myself.

You must think me a horrible, egotistical person now, and perhaps that is true. And yet I hope it is not unworthy to follow one's true ambitions, if the alternative is feigning false affections for someone who only deserves all the love and truth that you could give them.

If my reasons are immoral and my points moot – well, then I guess I am a terrible individual and it is only all for the better that I should not impose myself on someone who would have to bear my wiles and fancies day in, day out, while I couldn't even give them the attention and love that they surely deserve.

In any case I feel it is better that I should stay alone until I find someone – perhaps like-minded – who completes me so thoroughly that life without them would hold no meaning, and who could unite in themselves the wishes and ambitions that I have with those of their own, so that we might work together on something greater than ourselves.

Until then, I must keep denying my aunt's wishes, although I know that she would feel a lot happier to see me married off to some influential Eldarin tribe in order to secure the few alliances we have. Alas, as of now, “No” is all I can tell her. I know that this is not what she wants to hear, but I appreciate that she doesn't force me into an arrangement that I do not want.

Artanis has been distant lately, but whenever I ask her if something is the matter, she evades me and brings up a different topic. I'm not sure what I have done wrong, if that is indeed what has happened, but I will try to behave in accordance with her wishes so as not to give her any more reasons to be discontent with me.

I hope you and your family are well. Please tell me more about the new delegation from the Blue Mountains – they seem like delightful fellows, quite contrary to how you described the Erebor delegation that you welcomed two years ago. I hope I didn't say anything untoward, but I find it hard to decorate simple truths with ornate embellishments to hide their edges.

Best of wishes,

 

Tyelperinquar

 

 

11 ^th of November, 1290

 

Fundin,

Artanis and Celeborn have told me that they are leaving Ost-in-Edhil. I tried to ask them their reasons, but they would not tell me, only that the matter was decided and that they bore me no ill will, whatever that means. I don't know what I have done wrong. I don't know why they would leave.

Perhaps this has been building up for some time. I am aware that my aunt and uncle were never happy with the idea of guilds to begin with. Considering that the Guilds have become ever more influential within the city, they might have felt that the masters undermined their own position of power. In this case me (of all people!) speaking out against their reluctance to open trade with Númenor during the last meeting of the Guildmasters might have been the last straw. I know that I assured them that I would always defer to their opinions and orders, but they cannot fault me for standing up for my principles, just as much as they cannot fault me for acting as the leader of my own guild – because that is what I am and what my fellows expect of me. Is it going to be pride and principles that divide the line of Finwë yet again?

I must talk to them again. I will ask them to stay. I don't know what else to do.

I am sending you this message just to inform you that I might not write again for a longer time, depending on what happens now. A lot of things are changing already. People are packing up. Unseen chasms that I had no idea existed are opening. The city is divided. Some will stay, some will leave.

I wish you were here now so I could talk to you and you could tell me what to do.

Already I feel I should not have written that last sentence. Please do not burden yourself with this.

I will write as soon as I know more.

C. Cf.

 

 

12 ^th of December, 1290

Celeborn and Artanis left.

I asked them why, again and again, but Artanis just said that they realised that this city had grown more and in different ways that they had imagined. It was not a bad thing, she assured me, and she was happy that Ost-in-Edhil was thriving. She said she and Celeborn only felt that they didn't have a place in whatever Ost-in-Edhil had grown into. In that moment I saw my fears confirmed: the Guilds, and the Jewel-smiths among them, had grown too influential, too powerful in the city. All matters of importance were decided in the guilds, and only laid before Artanis and Celeborn as an afterthought, even though by that time all decisions had already been made.

I tried to tell her I knew this. I tried to tell her that I would set it right, but she interrupted me gently and said that it would be untoward to impose themselves upon a structure that foresaw no place for a lord and a lady to rule.

She gave me her best wishes before we parted and asked me to take care of the city. I said that I would try my best, but that she couldn't ask of me to swear. She told me she knew, and that she would tell everyone who asked that she and Celeborn had left of their own free will. She said she knew what it must be like for a grandson of Fëanor to be left alone as the ruler of a city, from which the former rulers had all of a sudden left.

I feel like she has deliberated her departure very thoroughly, and planned it for a very long time. Artanis is seeing ends that I cannot even fathom, and although I fear not for her, I am afraid of what will become of Ost-in-Edhil.

So many people have left the city, and not all of them looked kindly upon me when they departed, despite everything that Artanis might have said.

What of the rest? Will they leave as well? Will they stay? If they stay, what will be their reason? Will they want to be present to see if the grandson of Fëanor fulfils some dark expectations that they have for him? Do they wait for me to be a better ruler than Artanis? Or do they wait for me to fail, so that they can tell each other “I told you so” while regretfully shaking their heads?”

I wish I could leave now. I wish I could return to Khazad-Dûm and we could sit in your study and I could do anything but rule a city, anything but clean up the mess after I have inadvertently caused the departure of two lawful rulers from their own domain.

I have never felt in more need of a guiding hand or a friend. I have many friends here, but they know so little of me and I don't have it in my heart to tell them more so they might understand what causes me such grief. Everyone within the Mírdain seems to celebrate Artanis' departure. Some of them even proposed that the city might thrive quicker and breathe more freely without their supervision. I cannot confide in people who think like that.

I don't know what to do, and yet I know exactly what I must do.

I have to rule.

I cannot tell you how much this thought scares me.

It feels like touching a cursed blade that you have taken great pains to get rid of, only for it to be laid down right at your feet one day.

I am rambling, I am sorry.

I apologise in advance if my next answer takes me longer.

Give my regards to Narvi, as well as to Floki, Birta, and Falda. I hope you are safe and sound.

C.

 

 

15 ^th of February, 1295

 

Dear Fundin,

I know that my last few answers have been short and sparse, but at this point I can at last say with certainty that I am going to do better than that in the future.

Thank you for your enquiry. The short answer is: I am doing well. The long answer, which I am sure you would demand of me, is this:

I think we have made it. I think we have weathered the storm and have come out stronger on the other side.

Things are finally settling down. The past years have been anything but easy, but in the end it was just another complex problem to be solved. We had to go through a lot of changes. More than once, we had to question our plans and ideas and not least ourselves to ascertain whether we were right in doing as we did, but – well. The results speak for themselves, as any craftsman would say.

Ost-in-Edhil continues to grow and flourish. Every day more traders and artisans, merchants and scholars make their way here. We are gaining a reputation as a city of study and learning, of “open doors and open minds” as I've heard one merchant say recently. I cannot imagine a higher praise for our home.

This city has always had to struggle against adverse circumstances, not least because it was founded in difficult times and by difficult people, all of whom had different ideas on what they wanted of it and what they wanted it to be. Looking back, I know now that the departure of Artanis could have easily meant the end of this city, even if I didn't realize it back then. There was a chasm running right through the middle of it, and right through the hearts of everyone who lived here. A city so young should not have put its inhabitants to the test by making them choose sides and loyalties so early. Only a few hundreds remained here after Artanis had left, with nothing and no one to hold them together. The guilds were mere acquaintances to each other. We knew those we worked with and were friendly with our fellow guild members. However, when we had to come together as leaders and decision-makers in order to determine how to best govern a city – we might as well have been strangers. There was no one left to keep us, no one who we could look to, and who would unite us. In short, what we had tried to build so carefully could have broken apart in a matter of weeks.

And yet it didn't. To this day I can't say I truly know why; only that I am relieved and, above all, grateful that it lasted. Somehow we have done something great, something remarkable, even if no one knows how we got here.

What I do know, however, is that I could never have done this alone. Thankfully, I didn't have to. I expected difficulties and obstacles after Artanis left, and they came. However, this city and all its inhabitants – my friends – continue to surprise me. Ost-in-Edhil has had to grow many new structures in these trying times, but almost all of them were supportive and assisted me with the changes that needed to be made in order to make the city our own.

The most important, most indispensable beam of support, however, remains you. I wouldn't have known how to go about re-ordering and running an entire city without a friend who imparts his knowledge of governing and administration to me via stealthy correspondence. I almost feel like an impostor, like an actor who knows none of his lines and needs a prompter to walk him through the entire play from start to finish.

I've never had the time to say this adequately during the past five years and therefore I want to say it now – thank you. You know me well enough by now to know that I don't see mere words as sufficient for what I want to express, so I hope that you will accept the package that I have sent you with this letter.

The pen is one that one of my students has enchanted with a light-spell – indeed it is very similar to the concept of embedding light within stones to use them as lamps. My student Nelwen handed it in as her master's work and was duly awarded a graduation with highest marks. I did my best to replicate her work, and with her permission, I am sending you this exemplar – in the hopes that it might be useful when you have to take notes while walking down darker hallways or when you forget to infuse the lampstones on your desk with new magic.

The books I have sent you are copies of The Annals of Beleriand and The Annals of Valinor, as composed and edited by Pengolodh of Nevrast, one of the greatest Elven scholars of our time. I have also taken the liberty of mentioning your name to him, since you are at the very least his equal among the scholars of Dwarves, even though you have to govern a Dwarven Kingdom on the side. (As far as I know, all Pengolodh ever does is digging through libraries and experimenting on new shorthand scripts for Tengwar.) In any case, Pengolodh himself expressed that he would be very interested in getting to know you. I suspect that you will hear from him shortly. However, don't be fooled by his pleasant mannerisms – all he wants is your knowledge: of politics, of history, and most of all, your language. Be careful if you do indeed allow him into Khazad-Dûm and keep him away from the library at all costs if you ever want to get him to leave again.

I hope you can make good use of the books and the pen. I added a few pages of vellum to the parcel since I know that it has marvellous properties for writing and illuminating manuscripts and it has always been a favourite pastime of yours.

Know that I will forever be grateful for your help and that no amount of gifts I can send you could ever pay back this debt.

Give my regards to your family and friends,

Celebrimbor

 

PS: On a side note, I have been formally appointed the leader of Ost-in-Edhil. I tried to talk them out of it, but unfortunately all the guildmasters agreed that we should have a formal leader – at least in name – who acts as the representative of our home. For reasons that still elude me, they have chosen me to fill this role, so don't be surprised if my name shows up in a correspondence with King Durin himself sooner or later. We are neighbours, after all, and we won't be able to ignore each other's presence forever, especially if Ost-in-Edhil keeps growing in size and power.

I just wonder how the Elves of Ost-in-Edhil would react if they found out that actually a dwarf of Khazad-Dûm has been governing them from afar, and that their chosen leader not only allowed it, but also actively requested it. I suppose I would be dismissed in the blink of an eye.

On the upside, this would at least leave me with more time to work and teach again. Perhaps I should indeed start to spread some rumours and stage a coup d'etat against myself! Such a deed would certainly be a first even among my kin and our infamous penchant for unfortunate decisions.

I know my family has a proclivity to reliably and regularly set new standards for bafflingly bad choices, but even so, as far as I know none of my ancestors have ever conspired to topple themselves from a seat of power so far.

However much the thought of orchestrating my own overthrow amuses me, though, I ascribe far greater importance to making sensible choices in my own life. So I think this shall stay our secret for now until I’m either feeling less sensible or until I get fed up with ruling in general and decide to vanish from the face of the world for a bit. In this case, a rumour that the madness of my kin has at last taken hold of me will make for a fine excuse to give me a quick way out from a ruling position.

 

 

2 ^nd of August, 1300

 

Dear Fundin,

I am doing something sudden and untoward again, and I must warn you beforehand so it doesn't catch you unawares. Besides, I must once again impose upon you to ask your help in this matter.

I have sent a request for trade negotiations to King Durin. I know this is unheard of, but if you are still alive and have not yet died of a heart attack after this announcement, please read further, because I think this time I have actually good reasons for my impudence: I am hoping to open trade routes between Ost-in-Edhil and Khazad-Dûm and beyond. The Mountains are such a great landmark and it would be the obvious solution to open the route under the mountains to facilitate travel and trade from the East and the West.

Could you imagine how much easier travel and trade would go if they could just pass through Ost-in-Edhil and Khazad-Dûm instead of having to take the East Road around it? We would create a trade route that goes from Lindon by the Sea to Erebor in the East. Imagine the possibilities! What we could do, what we could achieve!

We could open our gates to each other, we could trade knowledge as well as wares, maybe hold exchanges of craft and masters and sciences, so that each of our peoples could learn the best of what the others have to offer! Just think of the possibilities!

I know there is a great deal standing between our two peoples, but I think in the end both Dwarves and Elves would be better off opening our doors to each other. Look only at Pengolodh – Khazad-Dûm was so reluctant to allow him in under the mountain and in the end you both learned so much from and about each other. After you had allowed him into your kingdom, Pengolodh's view of the Khazad was forever changed, just as you likely see Elves differently from how you saw them before. Both of you gained something, however small it might have been in the grand scope of things. Just imagine what could be gained if all of us extended our hands towards each other and we began to trust again.

I know I am asking a lot of you, but if you have any regard for my idea and if you hold any sway over King Durin at all, please ask him to consider it.

 

Celebrimbor Curufinwion

Master of the Jewel-smiths

Eregion

 

 

13 ^th of September, 1308

 

Fundin,

I cannot thank you enough for your engagement on behalf of both my city and your kingdom. I think by now we have convinced everyone who spoke out against it in the beginning that opening our doors to each other was the right decision.

Trade and science and exploration have flourished these past six years like never before. I am grateful to everyone who has made this possible, but most of all to you and your king. I have written many letters in the past, but I feel like these have never been quite enough. As I have told you long ago, sometimes it requires more than words – another gesture, if you will.

I have already spoken about this with Narvi and King Durin: Ost-in-Edhil has grown a lot over these past years and the wall around its third ring is in dire need of some gates. Likewise, the doors of Khazad-Dûm could use a bit of restoration. We have already opened our doors to each other as a sign of friendship, so why not take the opportunity and build these old doors anew? Two sets of doors, one for Khazad-Dûm and one for Ost-in-Edhil, each built by representatives of both Elves and Dwarves, with both peoples adding in the best that their craft has to offer. We would set an example of what can be achieved if we forget about prejudice and old enmities, if we bridge the differences between our races and join hands in order to create something greater than ourselves that we couldn't have done alone.

I have sent Narvi some concept art and plans for the undertaking, and King Durin has agreed to review the plans with him.

I am still waiting for his answer, and it cannot come fast enough.

What do you think of this?

Celebrimbor

 

 

28 ^th of September, 1308

 

Fundin,

You likely already know this as you probably wrote the letter that has just reached me, but all the same:

King Durin has agreed to the idea of building the doors! I don't know where to begin, how to express how this makes me feel, and everything that is going to happen now –

These doors will be a symbol for so many things and so many people. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this show of trust on King Durin's part and I assure you that I will not disappoint him or the rest of the Khazad. The Noldo and the Khazad are so similar in many ways – and now they will finally, as representatives of their cultures, join hands in order to create great work for both races. Not out of necessity, or out of force, but simply for friendship and the joy of cooperation and creation.

Work on the doors will begin in as little as six months' time, after the last frosts in March.

I keep rambling on about these doors, but what I actually wanted to tell you, Fundin, is something different. It is so obvious that it should have occurred to me a long time ago, and yet I only became aware of it now that I am planning tangible schedules for the stages of the building process.

The long and short of it is – I will be returning to Khazad-Dûm for a time. I will be working on these new doors myself, and naturally, this would require me to come to the Mountains. Somehow my mind kept skipping over that little fact every time I sat down to plan out this project and thus I have inadvertently avoided a realization that brings me more joy even than the fact that the doors are finally being built.

I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing all of you again. It has been ages, and I can't wait to see for myself that streak of grey hair in Narvi's beard that you've told me about and tease him for it, to share drinks with you, to revisit the city under the mountain, to drop by the library – there is just so much I want to do and see, so much that I have to tell you, all of which has had to wait until we finally see each other in person again.

Half a year – it's only the blink of an eye, considering the years I've lived, but right now those months might as well last forever.

I cannot wait to see all of you again.

Kurfi

 

246 years ago (1312 S.A)

 

As always, Fundin had tried to prepare himself. He had tried to think of every catch, every eventuality, every way that this venture could possibly go. He had tried to map out everything that he could be confronted with, and plan his reaction to each one accordingly. He knew his rank and his post, and he knew that as the king's steward, he could never be seen as anything less than absolutely self-assured and composed.

He had tried to prepare himself for it, weeks in advance, and yet in the end, when the moment came he found that he could never be prepared for this.

The sun was so bright in his face, and the wind whistled as it blew past his ears and whipped through his beard. The halls of Khazad-Dûm were high and wide, but even they were dwarfed in comparison to the world itself stretching away from horizon to horizon under a dome of sky so high and great that Fundin could almost believe that he would just lose the ground under his feet any moment and fall into that endless blue. There were so many smells: earth, flowers, grass, fruit – only the scent of stone and ore that was ever-present in Khazad-Dûm was distinctly lacking.

Everything was so … wide, so open, so endless. There were no walls and ceiling to give boundaries to this world, and it seemed that you could go in any direction, as far as you wanted, and never find your way back to the starting point again. Fundin felt ruffled and uprooted, as if at any moment a gust of wind might carry him away, and so he tore his gaze from the too-great world all around him and focused on his hands. They were clutching the reins of the little garron, who was slowly plodding along the road, only a little way behind King Durin and his son.

There, this is better, he thought to himself. Look at your hands and your horse to make sure that it stays on the path. It was a needless caution, he knew, but he felt that if he looked around for much longer, the sheer size of his surroundings might overwhelm him.

From out of the corners of his eyes, he saw a brown pony riding up to his left, with familiar boots in the stirrups.

“What is the matter, Fundin?” asked Narvi. “I thought you wanted to come along so badly, and now that we are out here, you don't even want to look at the world around us.”

Fundin threw his brother a sullen look. “No one told me that it would be like this. How can you live without a firm ceiling of stone above your head? How can you be so exposed all the time?”

“Well, you'd be surprised,” Narvi said. “A lot of folks do it, and all of them are fine. Come now, what's with that face? Surely it can't be that bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” grumbled Fundin. Narvi had had plenty of time to get used to living and working under the open sky. He had helped Celebrimbor build the new doors of Khazad-Dûm, and then went on to stay in Ost-in-Edhil for three years in order to finish its twin gates there. Fundin wondered if Narvi had been this nonchalant the first time he had to step out under an open sky.

Then again, most dwarves left the mountain sooner or later – and probably any Khazad you might meet in Khazad-Dûm would have more experience out here than Fundin. Yet he knew that he should not fret or whinge. If anything, he had to be grateful that he was allowed to come along at all.

Usually, whenever the king travelled, it was the steward who stayed behind in his kingdom and ruled in his stead. Dwarven stewards especially did not leave their home kingdoms in the absence of their king. Steadfast and eternal as stone, ever present, never budging. He remembered the words of his oath all too well. In that respect, he knew that it was an unprecedented concession – no, a privilege – that Fundin should be allowed on this journey as well.

He had not asked to come along, of course. He knew his place, he knew his duty, and he took both of them far too seriously to ever overstep in such a manner. He knew what was expected of him and he had always taken great care to fulfil any expectation his king might have of him, while never asking for anything for himself in turn. But something must have had happened – either Durin had seen Fundin's face when he mentioned the destination of his travels, or (more likely) Narvi had been speaking to the king – for when Durin announced his departure, he told Fundin to hand over his office to the council of Elders for the time being and prepare himself for travel as well.

And thus it was that when it was time to leave and the great doors of Khazad-Dûm rumbled open, Fundin was beside his king as they both stepped out into the bright sunlight. And now King Durin, Fundin, and Narvi were on their way to Ost-in-Edhil, the great city of science and trade in Eregion.

Fundin tried to hide his nervousness, and as usual, he succeeded. Slowly but surely, his apprehension vanished and he straightened in his saddle, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The road wound itself in slow, wide curves through woods and hills, over the Sirannon, and then out into more open lands where tilled fields and meadows of flowers stretched out in every direction. The late summer air was heavy with the smell of pine needles, resin, and wet moss as they rode through forests of holly. When they reached the open plains, the smells of the forest were replaced by the sweet fragrance of flowers, hot dry earth, and fruit. They rode through little bluffs and orchards, between acres of farmland. Birds flitted overhead like little colourful spirits and lazy bees droned through the warm air in the dappled shade of the trees.

The further they got, the more Fundin lost his fear of this strange new world, and before long, he was craning his head around to take in as much of this wide open land as possible. A strange feeling rose within him as he looked around, a strange pressure pushing against his ribs from the inside. His heart was beating faster, and he was so impatient to see what lay around the next corner or curve that he could hardly resist trotting ahead to have more time to look, and smell, and listen.

Suddenly, he was overcome with a feeling of exhilaration so strong that he had to restrain himself, lest he burst out laughing with joy. This is it, he thought. This is what everyone has been talking about – what Kurfi saw, what Snorri saw, what my brother saw. This is the world!

He was finally getting to feel the wind in his hair and the sun in his face that he had read and heard so much about but never gotten around to experience until now – and it was incredible.

A few hours into their journey Fundin couldn't imagine how he could ever have lived without this. The warmth! The smells! The colours! Where Khazad-Dûm presented itself in cool, eternal majesty, this world out here was fleeting, ever-changing, but so much more bustling and bright. And the sky overhead! This endless, startling blue! He must have spent hours riding with his head craned back until his neck began to hurt, but still he couldn't tear his gaze away.

Just as the Dwarves were fascinated with the lands of Eregion, their group seemed to attract attention as well. Whenever they happened upon travellers, their stares would follow the entourage and only when they recognised the King under the Three Mountains, they would hastily bow and gape after the procession for a long time. Fundin couldn't fault them for it: it was an unusual sight to see a Dwarven King travel outside of his own realm.

They made good pace, and yet it was only after midday on the second day of their journey when Ost-in-Edhil finally came into sight. It was as if the city had appeared by magic all of a sudden: surrounded by the hilly forest, the city was hidden right until the Dwarves came around a small mountain ridge. Then, all of a sudden, the ridge fell away behind them and the land before them opened up into a wide plain. And in the middle of this plain, rising tall and magnificent, was a city built of white stone, with spires and towers, bridges and archways, all rising so tall that the highest spires appeared to be fingers reaching for the sky itself. The city was built in three levels, each of which was surrounded by a tall ring-wall, rising from the outermost, lowest ring to the innermost and highest ring.

All of a sudden, Fundin felt nervous. He had not been able to visit Celebrimbor and Narvi while they had been building the Doors of Durin, as the doors of Khazad-Dûm had come to be called. Too many duties and a sudden visit of a delegation from Erebor had demanded his attention and destroyed any plans he might have had for seeing his old friend. Fundin remembered all too well the disappointment he had felt back then – so long had he waited to see his friend again, only for the opportunity to be lost to duty and protocol.

It had been decades – nay, centuries – since he had last seen Celebrimbor. What would their reunion be like? Would they know each other again instantly, or would time and distance have created a divide between them by now?

Far too quickly now that his thoughts were churning the city grew taller and nearer, and before long, the Dwarven caravan was crossing the Bruinen. The horses' hooves were clomping across the stone bridge and the river below them was rushing quickly, burbling and hurrying away towards the sea. White crests foamed where the water hit stones and silver-scaled trout darted to and fro in the clear stream.

From there on out it was only a short last leg of their journey, and before long, Durin and his entourage were riding up the long ramp of white stone that led up to the outermost wall. That close the city seemed even taller.

These towers must be nigh twice as high as our highest halls in Khazad-Dûm, Fundin thought.

The gates of Ost-in-Edhil were flung wide open, as if to embrace any visitor heading up towards the gate and Fundin could see that a small group of people had gathered there, obviously waiting for them.

Something inside Fundin twisted as they rode up to it. He saw a mass of faces, mostly Elven, some human and some dwarven, but none that he recognised. King Durin halted his pony. No one stepped forward to greet the king. Fundin got the distinct impression that this was not a selected delegation to meet them, rather than just a mass of random spectators that had gathered to see who was coming to visit the city.

Irritated, Durin swung down from the saddle. Fundin did the same.

“I announce to you the arrival of Durin, King, Third of his Name, the Wise, and King under the Three Mountains. Who holds command here?” Fundin said and stepped forward.

The spectators shared a few glances, some of them shook their heads. At long last, one old elf stepped forward. “I apologise, King Durin, but – ”

He interrupted himself as a ripple went through the crowd. The spectators parted and then – there he was.

A tall regal, figure clad in fine robes of warm browns and gold, stepped forward to stand in front of his white city: Celebrimbor Curufinwion, leader of the Brotherhood of Jewelsmiths and Lord of Ost-in-Edhil. The Noldo stood straight-backed and solemn, and Fundin could see how the crowd parted for him. They did not fear him – but in their eyes he saw deep respect and something that could only be described as adoration.

“That would be me,” Celebrimbor said. “Maker's fire upon your path, King Durin, and firm stone below your feet,” he said in Khuzdul and bowed at the waist.

“And may your hammer strike ever true,” King Durin responded.

“Welcome to Ost-in-Edhil,” Celebrimbor continued in Sindarin. “Be welcome in our city, King Durin. We are honoured to receive you and your company as our friends and guests, and whatever hospitality we can grant you during your stay, we shall give it gladly.” He bowed again, never faltering in his perfect countenance, and gestured for the caravan to enter the city.

King Durin appeared to be appeased now that the proper respects had been paid and he had been welcomed officially. The king nodded gracefully, then mounted his pony again and rode past Celebrimbor and into the city.

Celebrimbor fell into step besides the ponies of Narvi and Fundin.

“You're late, Lord of Ost-in-Edhil,” Narvi said. “Did nobody ever tell you that it is impolite to keep a king waiting?”

Celebrimbor just kept on looking straight ahead. “Did somebody ever tell you how long it takes to scrub off soot after working with green apprentices for three days straight?” he asked quietly.

“No.” Narvi smirked.

“Me neither.” Celebrimbor leaned a bit over towards Narvi, who was still seated on his pony and whispered, “What does it feel like to ride in under your own gate into the city?”

“Makes me less afraid that the archway will collapse onto my head than if you'd built it without me,” Narvi said. “That way, at least, I'll know that the static calculations have been done properly.” His face was completely straight and he kept on looking right ahead, but Fundin could have sworn that his brother was doing his best to bite back a grin.

Celebrimbor looked like he wanted to give a pointed retort to this, but then seemed to notice that his presence was required next to the king. “We'll talk later,” he said to Narvi, then looked past him at Fundin and gave him a wink that almost made Fundin's heart stop, before accelerating his steps to catch up with the royal entourage and escort King Durin into the city.

*

 

Ost-in-Edhil was even more magnificent on the inside than it was when seen from the outside. Like a diamond, it revealed many of its facets and traits only upon closer inspection. For instance, Fundin saw that the city was divided into living and working quarters, and the working quarters were divided again into districts assigned to the numerous guilds that had found a place for themselves in Ost-in-Edhil.

With all the hustle and bustle going on inside its walls, the city should have appeared cramped and full – and yet there were so many open spaces, so many vaulting archways and bridges, towers and terraces, balconies and gardens, that there might as well have been no walls in here at all.

Celebrimbor proved to be a magnificent host. He showed the Dwarves to their accommodations, then took them on a tour through the city, during which he explained its building process and its history with grace and a stunning command of detail.

Fundin already knew much of this information from the letters that Celebrimbor had sent him over the past several years. So, instead of listening, he craned his head and tried to take in as much of the architecture and the residents as possible. Everything in this city seemed to strive upward. There was such an atmosphere of freedom here, of being unbound, that was mirrored in the architecture as well as the people who walked about everywhere. The inhabitants of Ost-in-Edhil seemed to care little for status or rules. Every now and then, one of the guild-members simply approached their party without a formal introduction and started to talk about their fields of expertise, only to excuse themselves at their own convenience and go back to their work. They didn't hail either Celebrimbor or Durin in a particularly special manner, and spoke comfortably as if they were among friends. It was very laid-back and, in Fundin's opinion, very lacking in manners.

At first this seemed to irritate King Durin, but since the guild-members proved to be otherwise courteous and well-mannered company, the king soon forgot his misgivings and began speaking to them, as well. Fundin didn't hear too much of what his king was saying, though.

He was watching Celebrimbor, this strange Noldo whom he had gotten to know so many years ago, and who had somehow evolved from a ragged, ill-tempered refugee into the lord of a city who was all proper etiquette and manners, easy smiles and effortless courtesies.

Only now that Fundin got a chance to really look at him, did he notice how different the elf appeared from Fundin’s own memories of his friend. Fundin regarded Celebrimbor's sun-tanned brown skin, his strong shoulders and sure hands, which were gesturing in a lively manner as he spoke. How still, how pale, how gaunt the elf had appeared in comparison while he had been staying under the mountain! During his time in the outside world, the sun had chased the pallor from his skin. Celebrimbor appeared more carefree now, and less stress paired with healthier eating habits had managed to put a bit of meat on his bones at long last, filling his hollow cheeks and broadening his frame.

Smiles and laughter also seemed to come so much easier to Celebrimbor now. There were no signs of his angry outbursts, of his loneliness and insolence from when he had first come to Khazad-Dum, or of his desperate pleas for help in his letters to Fundin during the first months of his solo reign of Ost-in-Edhil. Nothing in Celebrimbor's demeanour now suggested that he had ever been anything other than an easy-going, good-natured elf and a capable leader. Celebrimbor had gone from a lost runaway who would wear neither father-name nor coats of arms to an Elven lord whose clothes were covered in patterns both Elvish and Dwarvish that seemed to merge and intertwine in strange and unexpected harmony. The combination was unusual enough, but it was the centrepiece of the embroidery that gave Fundin pause:

In the middle of these patterns, stitched onto the back of Celebrimbor’s vest just between his shoulder blades, was a motif that all the other patterns seemed to be centred around and pointing towards. It was a simple yet eye-catching design, neither so small as though it should be hidden nor so great that it dominated all other designs: stitched onto his back in silver thread, integrated into the greater whole and yet distinct enough to appear unique, was the eight-pointed star of Fëanor.

So he doesn’t shy away from his heritage any longer, Fundin thought. And neither do those around him. The people of Ost-in-Edhil see the star of Fëanor, but they don't recoil from it. Far from it, in fact. Fundin had noticed this during Celebrimbor's time in Khazad-Dûm already: if the elf allowed himself to open up, he had an irresistible effect on people to draw them in. Now that effect was stronger than ever: where Celebrimbor had been alone at first, and had spent his time among a small, chosen group of comrades later, he was now surrounded by friends and admirers on all sides. These were his people, and they looked up to him for guidance, which Celebrimbor gave as naturally as if he had never done anything else. He looked healthier, stronger, and – as Fundin noticed with a pang – all in all, happier than he had ever looked while he had been in Khazad-Dûm.

But looking around, Fundin could understand the reasons for the change. There was so much here – sun and air, freedom and openness, science and friendship – in a way that was entirely Celebrimbor's own, and in a capacity that only Ost-in-Edhil could grant him and Khazad-Dûm could not.

*

It was later, much later, when the official part of the evening was finally over. A great welcoming feast had taken place in one of the gardens in the upper ring. A pavilion had been erected under the canopy of a few young trees, whose branches had been hung with paper lanterns, while helpers had carried benches, tables, and a little stage there to accommodate guests, hosts, and musicians. There had been speeches, formal and less formal, as well as toasts and exchanges of gifts. After that, there were songs and recitals, all in no particular order. It appeared as if anyone who felt like it could just climb up to the stage and present a song or a poem, and both Elves and Men made good use of this. Fundin listened intently at first, but soon let his attention drift away as his concentration faded after a long day, simply allowing the atmosphere and the music to take his thoughts wherever they pleased, while contented tiredness soaked into him.

The feasting and singing lasted into the late night hours, and only after midnight did King Durin finally excuse himself and retreat to his quarters. It was then that Celebrimbor caught the eye of Narvi and Fundin, nodding towards the darkness of the gardens before excusing himself from the gathering and leaving in the direction of a darker, quieter part of the gardens.

The two brothers followed Celebrimbor into the semi-darkness under the starry sky. Crickets were chirping in the bushes, and the smell of damp, dewy grass rose from the ground as they made their way across a stretch of lawn. When they had made camp by the roadside the night before, Fundin had spent the entire night lying awake and staring up into that marvel of darkness and pinpricks of silver light. How big it was, how far away the stars were! He had heard of it and read more descriptions of it than he could count, and yet he found that even the best description fell impossibly short of the wondrous reality that surrounded him. Even now he could hardly tear his gaze away when they finally caught up with Celebrimbor.

The elf was waiting at the edge of the garden where it was framed by a low wall of white stone. Just beyond, the wall dropped about two hundred feet until it met a backstreet and some gardens of the middle ring beneath.

“Stealing away from the party, my lord?” Narvi asked as they approached.

Celebrimbor turned around. “And successfully luring you away from your king, as it would seem.”

“By Mahal, whatever have you planned for him, you rascal?”

“Who says I planned something for him? I lured you away.”

Narvi laughed. “That's fair.” Then, all of a sudden, both friends stepped forward and embraced each other.

“It's good to see you again, Kurfi,” Narvi said, beaming. “And look at you – how much of a lord you act now! You are learning at long last, it seems!”

“Even I can't help but learn, if I have to keep up the act at all times.” Celebrimbor grinned. “I do, however, much prefer to be around people where I can be a friend and colleague, and I don't think that will ever change.”

“Good thing we're all friends here, then, isn't it?” Narvi laughed quietly.

Celebrimbor nodded, then turned to Fundin, looking at him properly for the first time since the Dwarves had arrived in Ost-in-Edhil. “Fundin, my friend. It's been so long.”

“It – ” Fundin's voice broke on the word. He coughed and tried again. “It has been.” Now, why was his voice coming out so hoarse and quiet? “How are you?” he managed to ask. “You're doing well for yourself, it seems.”

Celebrimbor grimaced. “The lording still takes up too much of my time for my taste, but I'm slowly getting to the point where I can get all the other lords and ladies around us to accept that I really care less for protocol and invitations to feasts than for working partnerships and travel routes.”

“Must have put them off quite a bit.”

“Not as much as could have been.” Celebrimbor shrugged. “Some of them still know me from the West – apparently that's more or less the behaviour that they've been expecting of Curufin's son since he grew up.” He looked at Fundin again. “But tell me of yourself! How have you been? It was such a shame that we couldn't see each other while I was working on the gates. Of all the times you had to be gone to attend to a delegation! Narvi could tell you how angry I was when I learned that they wouldn't even let you go briefly to come visit us – I would have liked to talk to you so dearly!”

Fundin nodded, not quite meeting the elf's eyes and looking out over the nightly city with its countless lights and lanterns instead. “It was a shame, yes. I would have liked to come as well. Very much. But you know. My duty.”

Words seemed to have fled him. Fundin took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together, finally looking back at Celebrimbor. “But here we are now, and that is what counts, isn't it?”

Celebrimbor smiled. “Yes, I suppose it is. But now, tell me what has been going on under the Mountains? What have you been up to since we last spoke? What about Floki, Birta, and Falda?”

Fundin gladly took up the new topic and together, he and Narvi started to relay the goings-on in Khazad-Dûm to Celebrimbor, who seemed very eager for every bit of news from the Dwarven realm. The elf remembered a surprising number of the names and incidents that came up. He asked about former colleagues and friends, as well as the state affairs of the kingdom. Fundin and Narvi answered his questions to the best of their abilities, and when Fundin told Celebrimbor that Floki's daughter Falda had – prematurely and by pure stone-headedness – argued herself into one of the apprentice classes of Nazri, the son of the late Master Naugrin, Celebrimbor burst out laughing.

“Oh, I would just love to get to know her!” he said. “If she is anything like you describe her, she must be the spitting image of Floki – only hopefully with a better-kept beard!”

“You're not too far off,” Narvi said. “She's grown up to be quite a handful. Got the stubbornness of her father and the smarts of her mother. She's driving every master in Khazad-Dûm to despair because she keeps hounding them down to teach her, and throwing tantrums if they decline because 'she's still too young'. If you're ever looking for a challenge, let me know and I'll send her over to apprentice for you.”

A glint flashed in Celebrimbor's eyes. “Ask her. Please do. I would love to have her here and learn from her.”

“What, not the other way round?”

“I don't think there's anything I could teach Falda. Especially not when it comes to dealing with stubborn diplomats, who 'Yes, but' their way through the entirety of a conversation.”

This time, all three of them laughed.

He hasn't forgotten us, Fundin thought, watching as Celebrimbor turned to Narvi to ask something else. He still cares. The realisation made something inside him that had been stiff and cold until now finally loosen up.

They talked late into the night. The stars wandered overhead and below them, a sea of lanterns and lights shone in Ost-in-Edhil’s lower rings. At some point during their conversation, all three of them climbed up onto the ringwall and sat down side by side. The wall was still warm from the day's heat despite the white stones, and it was broad enough to sit upon comfortably without needing to fear the danger of falling off one way or the other.

Finally, after a long time spent talking and laughing, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, looking out over the city and letting their thoughts wander.

Fundin ran his hand over the white stones while a warm breeze caressed his face. The air smelled of flowers and warm stone, of grass and mountain air. He tilted his head back to gaze up at the starry sky above, then looked out over Ost-in-Edhil, which lay sprawled below them, the bustling city now subdued and silent, but with no less splendour.

“This is a beautiful city that you have built for yourselves,” Fundin said quietly.

Celebrimbor, who had apparently been deeply lost in thought until Fundin spoke, turned around. “Hm?”

“It is a beautiful place that you have created for yourselves,” Fundin repeated. “Not only the architecture and the location, but the… the spirit of this place. It is so free, so open. No matter who you are or where you come from – I feel like you would welcome them with open arms and share what you have, regardless of what they had to offer. If I was lost and didn't know where to turn or what I was looking for – I think I would come here.”

Celebrimbor just looked at him for a few moments, his mouth slightly open. “I – thank you.”

Fundin averted his gaze and looked out over the countless streets, houses, shops and towers. “I know that it is often more of a hassle than a blessing when you have to rule an empire, but for a city like this? I would do it, a thousand times over.”

Celebrimbor blinked, apparently at a loss for what to say to this. He mulled it over, then leaned forward a bit, his elbows resting on his knees and his feet dangling in empty air.

Fundin watched as Celebrimbor regarded the city – his city. When the elf spoke again, his words were slow and thoughtful. “You are right that it is a hassle, and ruling brings with it responsibilities and duties that are not always pleasant. But … just as you said, when I look at how we started out, and what this city has grown into… I think to myself, It was worth it. And no matter where we go from here, no matter what happens, it will always have been worth it. I feel almost as if it is a tree that is growing under my protection, and if it thrives I know that I have done my work well.”

He looked at his hands. “But with a city, it is not only about the beautiful and easy things, isn't it? And yet, at times I feel that I could not truly appreciate the home I now have until I have seen all the work that goes into maintaining it. Now that I know this city at its best and at its worst, I have come to love it unconditionally.” Celebrimbor paused. “But I don't think I could have done this without getting to know the two of you first, and seeing how much one can love and care for their home and their people.”

Fundin and Narvi shared a look. A moment passed between them, as they both remembered words that had been spoken centuries ago, in a different place, a different time: Fundin had only recently been made Durin’s steward, and during a family feast he had, for the first time, articulated what ruling Khazad-Dûm meant to him to his brother. His words then had been startlingly similar to those Celebrimbor had just spoken now.

Celebrimbor seemed to notice the shift and looked between them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Fundin said quickly, but when Celebrimbor wasn't looking, he couldn't hide a smile. So we still understand each other, after all that time.

And for some reason, Fundin no longer minded as much that Celebrimbor had left. He knew now that Kurfi had not forgotten Khazad-Dûm, that he had not forgotten his friends and the time that he had spent there.

Even though he stopped living under the Mountain, that doesn't mean he stopped caring for Khazad-Dûm and everyone he knows there. He had to come to us and learn to belong again. But he also had to leave in the end, I see it now. He could never have become who he was today if he had not come here to Ost-in-Edhil. I wouldn't ever want to take that away from him.

Thinking back later, Fundin couldn’t remember how long they sat there and talked, side by side, and in the moment, he also didn't notice that Narvi eventually fell silent and simply listened as Celebrimbor and Fundin were completely lost in one of their long, branching conversations. Fundin didn't notice the stars passing overhead, and he only looked up when he noticed that the sky in the east was becoming tinted grey with the early dawn.

Fundin blinked as if pulled from a place where no time existed back onto the material plane. Too soon, he thought, and yet he knew that he could not fight down his tiredness much longer. Their journey to reach Ost-in-Edhil had been long for a Dwarf who had never ventured beyond the mountains before and Fundin hadn't slept in a few days; now his exhaustion was beginning to really make itself known.

“We should probably go to bed,” Celebrimbor said with a yawn. “I can't think straight for much longer, and we can finish this conversation in the morning. The late morning, preferably.”

“Finish? When have we ever truly finished a conversation, instead of being made to stop by our duties or the hands on our clocks?” Fundin asked, unable to keep from smiling despite his exhaustion.

“True,” Celebrimbor conceded. “Continue, then – after all, we still have time.”

 

*

We still have time.

In the end, though, even that time passed far too quickly. Far too soon, Fundin realised that the last day of their stay had come. All of a sudden they were required to fetch their ponies, clear their rooms, and gather at the gates to say farewell.

It had all passed in a blur, but his entire stay in Ost-in-Edhil seemed to have gone by even quicker than their good-byes.

So much to do, so much to say, and so little time. Never enough time.

There was an ache in his chest as Fundin pulled himself up into the saddle, but as always he didn't let it shine through. He kept a smile on his face as he said his farewells for the fifth time, and then all of a sudden they were riding away, down the long ramp of white stone that led down from the open gates of Ost-in-Edhil to the plains below.

Fundin rode behind King Durin and next to Narvi, and when he turned around he could still see the group of Elves, Men, and Dwarves who had seen them off there at the gates. Celebrimbor stood at the front of the group. When he saw Fundin looking back, he lifted his hand and waved in farewell.

Fundin waved back, regarding the many, many other figures standing behind Celebrimbor as he did. They get to stay. I must leave. There was a clenching in his chest and a burning feeling at the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, then tore his gaze away and looked forward, toward his king’s back. Because this is where my path lies, where my duty is.

He told himself this, and he told himself that it was right and proper that he was going home again, because he loved Khazad-Dûm and he could never abandon it.

It was true, of course. Fundin did love his city, his home, and his king.

And yet, he could never forget what it had been like to be outside of the Mountain Kingdom: to amble through streets of warm cobbled stone, with no duty demanding his attention and only friends, the wind, and the sun for company.

Even years after this journey, Fundin still dreamed of endless blue skies.

 

158 years ago (1400 S.A.)

 

Fundin had to read the letter twice to make sure that he had read it right, but the words stayed the same. When he looked up, he found Narvi looking back at him with an amused expression.

“What – ” he started, then broke off again. He read the letter for a third time.

Narvi smiled and leaned back heavily in one of the armchairs in Fundin's study. His frame had become portly and rounded and his expression mild with age. His formerly red-brown beard was by now entirely consumed by white and grey.

“I don't understand,” Fundin said at last. “How? Why?”

Narvi chuckled. “It seems that our Kurfi is being … well, very much Kurfi again. He just can't do anything the usual way, it seems. Where other people acquire friends, or allies, or dogs, our Kurfi got himself one of the Holy Ones.”

Fundin blinked, then laid the letter aside. “I still don't understand how this came about. I thought that the Holy Ones were gone from these shores.”

Narvi shrugged. During the last few years, he seemed to have lost the zest to investigate every strange incident to its cause, and had instead become more content to accept things as they were. He didn't seem overly bothered by the recent developments. “I thought so as well, but who can tell the intent of those creatures? As far as we know, they don't seem to be bound by any loyalty or duty. And if this one has taken a fancy to return here and visit the mortal lands, who is going to tell it no? No one, I should think, and especially not our Kurfi.”

Fundin made a noncommittal noise, then read the letter again. Indeed, Celebrimbor didn't seem to be too suspicious or taken aback by a Maia turning up on his doorstep. If anything, he sounded excited.

Fundin sighed. “I only hope he knows what he is getting himself into with this. The Maiar have their whims and wiles. I need only think of that sorceress who bewitched the Elven king Thingol to stay with her, and made him forget about everything else that he should have been doing at the time.”

Narvi waved it off. “They are strange, but most of them aren't malicious. Besides, do you really think a mere Maia could lure Kurfi's thoughts away from the things he's decided to put his mind to?” He shook his head and laughed. “No, I think greater forces are needed for that. Kurfi will be fine, you'll see.”