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greenleaf4stuff · 23 days ago

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In Convenience - Chapter 5, part 4

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story snippet 5, part 4. The welcoming of guests by Gil-Galad, Adar, Celebrimbor becomes unexpectedly serious when a delegation from Pelargir arrives, lead by a Silvan elf soldier. While no definitive solution to the situation of the former Southlands, now Mordor, can be found yet, both Adar and Arondir are willing to talk, which is already a victory of its own.

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience" and "In Convenience")

This was perhaps the hardest part of this chapter to write because - I love Adar and the uruk, but I can also see that what he did in the Southlands had destructive consequences esp. for its people, and that they might have mixed feelings on an alliance between elves and uruk as a result. I wanted to *try* and explore some of it, at least, if only to show that despite Sauron's demise, there are still problems that have to be adressed, and the road to peace in Middle-earth is a long one. But everyone is doing their best working towards it.

Thank you all so much for reading this chapter and following this story along thus far! Next chapter will hopefully be out in two weeks, and is going to be fluffier than this part again, I promise!

The talks between the elves, Adar and the dwarves continued for a while. Far longer than they had intended, judging by the not so subtle sound of coughing coming from Elrond as the herald eventually approached them. Durin used the opportunity to accuse Elrond of missing him, as well as being jealous that he didn’t have the dwarf’s undivided attention, which Elrond answered with a mirthful smirk and a barb of his own.

The dwarves soon went with the herald, though there were promises to continue the previous conversation at a latter date – when Celebrimbor and Adar, and hopefully also Gil-Galad, would visit Durin, Dísa and Narvi in Khazad-Dum. The extended invitation was already a good sign, causing Celebrimbor to turn towards Adar with an approving smile once the dwarves had left.

Other guests came and went; elves for the most part, some dwarven lords and ladies, and even some men. The rest of the talks were often strictly polite, sometimes a bit tense, but nothing their combined diplomatic skills couldn’t handle.

To everyone’s surprise, the kingdom of Númenor was not among those who had followed the invitation, or even deigned to send an envoy. Only a letter arrived, congratulating the elves and uruk on both their defeat of Sauron and the alliance that was beginning to form between them. As well as thinly-veiled concerns – which almost sounded like accusations – that the elves might have lost their way and chosen to walk a dangerous path for themselves in the process.

Despite the well-wishes for the alliance and the married couple from King Al-Pharazôn, the letter did not make it sound as if Númenor did approve much of either, and therefore was a source of apprehension for both Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. The human kingdom was a powerful one, prosperous and grand, and could potentially be either a formidable ally or fearsome opponent.

It made sense that they had some reservations about Adar and the uruk, considering how his forces had managed to defeat one of the kingdom’s armies single-handedly, and also permanently blinded the former Queen Regnant Tar-Míriel due to the eruption of the Orodruin.

But both the refusal to diplomatically engage with the elves and the way the letter had been worded were worrying, at the very least.

In response, Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor had decided to send heralds to Númenor after the festivities were over, in order to try and assauge any fears or objections the kingdom might have. Galadriel herself had offered to be among those sent to Númenor, as she had met with Míriel and her subjects before. Celebrimbor had no doubts that she would even be willing postpone her search for Celeborn to that end if necessary.

Elrond, too, had been one of the first who requested to be sent there, due to his late brother’s connection to the kingdom and its people. Which meant that likely, the younger elf would need more time before he could make his final decision concerning the stewardship of Eregion, but both Adar and Celebrimbor knew they would find a solution to that circumstance, too. Even if it meant Adar would need to take longer before he could return to Mordor, and the majority of children.

Celebrimbor was drawn from his thoughts on these matters when a Silvan elf, followed by a few men, entered the halls. He could feel Adar subtly stiffen beside himself; judging by the stormy expression on the elven soldier’s face, this would not be merely a polite talk. The Lord of Eregion had a hunch as to who this was.

His suspicions rang true when the elf came to stand before them, and bowed in respect as he kept his frown directed towards Adar. As Celebrimbor glanced over, the uruk’s face was largely expressionless, safe for the tension at the corners of his mouth and eyes, the way he studied the other as if deciding whether or not he might be a threat.

"High King Gil-Galad, Lord Celebrimbor," the other addressed them, voice tight. The fact that he left out Adar made the smith’s stomach sink. "My name is Arondir. I come with, and on behalf of, the men of Pelargir. Formerly peaceful inhabitants of the Southlands."

There was a weighty pause after his words. Oropher had told them that Arondir would approach them, and while Celebrimbor was sure that the wedding festivities would not give them nearly enough time to discuss what rightful grievances he surely had, it might be taken in everyone’s favor that he attended the celebrations in the first place. And that everyone had agreed he should be encouraged to bring forth what he had to say.

Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad both bowed towards the other as well, and after a moment of hesitation, Adar at least inclined his head. "Arondir, welcome to Eregion. King Oropher mentioned you would come," the smith greeted the soldier, and then turned to the men, in order to bow to them as well. "And a warm welcome to your companions as well. It is good to know you are yet supporting them."

This, at least, seemed to take Arondir aback a little, almost as if he had expected – or feared – a different reaction. He quickly recovered. "I understand you," and this time his gaze swept over them, including Adar, "As well as Herald Elrond and Lady Galadriel were able to defeat Sauron together. We...are relieved to hear this."

This time, it was Celebrimbor who found himself surprised. He knew the losses of the former Southlanders were still fresh. The fact that Arondir was able to recognize that Adar had wronged these men, while also being partially responsible for defeating their common enemy, showed that he had not merely come here to voice his grievances. No, this showed he had come here with a purpose, and that perhaps, he, Celebrimbor and Adar might find a way to mend the rift between the uruk and the men.

The Lord of Eregion would certainly try his best to contribute to such an attempt, at the very least.

Nodding, Celebrimbor replied. "Yes. A partnership born out of necessity, but it has thankfully grown to be mutually beneficial." His and Adar’s eyes caught for a moment. The other was still tense, and the smith knew this would likely last until this conversation was concluded. He turned back to Arondir. "Though from what I have been told, you and your people are, understandably, skeptical of this alliance for now."

He wasn’t sure he could put himself into Arondir’s or the men’s shoes, though he himself had witnessed the terror of seeing Adar’s army at the gates of Ost-In-Edhil, the uruk’s war machinery. Had been sure of the other’s willingness to raze his city to the ground, before they had been wed together and begun to make different, less destructive plans.

Even then, it had been a challenge to steer Adar away from his more rash decisions, his determined, near desperate conviction that vanquishing Sauron was the only thing that mattered. No doubt the uruk had made other such decisions in the past, especially so before his children had turned the Southlands into Mordor, a safe haven for his people, after centuries of the uruk having been hunted and killed by every other race in Middle-earth and even beyond.

He understood Arondir and the men’s anger, at least in some ways, as he had feared losing his city, his home, to both Sauron’s and Adar’s forces for a time as well.

Celebrimbor only hoped his own empathy, and his will to mend this rift, might be enough to achieve...if not a peace, at least something that might grow into one as time passed.

"That would be an understatement," Arondir said flatly, and could not keep his eyes off of Adar. "These men have seen themselves be invaded, slaughtered, driven from their homes or forced to join the ranks of the one who attacked them, only to have their former hope be turned to ash."

Celebrimbor sucked in a breath, and could see Gil-Galad stiffen beside him. Adar, however, merely replied, "The men who joined me were given a choice. And I allowed them to leave, if they so wished."

"A choice between life and death, most of the time," Arondir hissed. "And many were not even afforded that."

He looked pained, for a moment. "I was...good friends, with a woman and her son. Only the son remains, after a poisoned arrow killed her." It was clear that this woman had been more than a mere friend, and that her passing especially was painful to the soldier.

Celebrimbor was scared Adar might try to justify his actions, but once again, the elf was surprised when the other merely contemplated Arondir’s words and then, unexpectedly, bowed slightly. "I am very sorry for your loss. And that of your chosen people," he said. Celebrimbor blinked at how even his voice was. "I do not expect you to understand, but me and my children were in a desperate, difficult place when we attacked the Southlands."

Arondir was glaring at this point, though his face seemed to shift between anger and surprise, and even a hint of uncertainty. He, too, had not expected Adar to speak as he did, it would seem. "If you are truly sorry," Arondir pressed out from between his teeth. "What are you going to do, in order to make amends, then? The Southlands are gone, the lives of the men are gone, their homes. How could you possibly repay that?"

The other was right, especially so because the uruk had very little they could offer even in terms of aid or resources; the men would not want help rebuilding from those who had detroyed their towns in the first place, and the uruk barely had enough food, wood and other such materials to support themselves at this point. It would be naive to think there was a way to solve the situation this way.

But, thankfully, there was another.

"If I may," Celebrimbor gently interjected and took a step forward. Arondir’s gaze slid over to him. Still tense, but not quite so hostile. The smith tried not to fidget with his wedding band, lest he would unravel it. His fingers ached where he pressed them together.

"Me and my subjects would like to offer our own help and resources, to help you," he turned to the men as well, who appeared cautious but were listening closely, "rebuild Pelargir and make a life there. We can supply you with tools, seeds, food, lumber. We can even send the most gifted of our craftsmen to both advise and help you rebuild, and thereby, properly establish yourselves in the place in which you have chosen to settle."

He paused, then smiled slightly, daring to hope. "Me and Adar, we are married and therefore share our burdens and responsibilities equally. My city has survived the threat of Sauron relatively intact, and we prospered before he came here, meaning we can spare help and resources. Not just to the uruk, but the men as well. I would be – happy, to listen to what you need, and to help you with anything I can give. In order to try and attempt to mend this."

Next to him, Adar hummed and nodded. "Once my children have built up structures and laid the groundwork for farming, we would be willing to help as well, in whatever way the people of Pelargir wish it. Also," he seemed to struggle, just a little, before he continued, voice steady, "It is possible that life will return to the former Southlands, at least at its borders, over time. If men wished to settle there, we would not dissuade or attack them."

Arondir took a very long moment to answer, long enough for Gil-Galad to step closer and also speak up. "Rest assured, Arondir, that as High King of the elves, I will use my standing to help you argue from a position of strength. I am not just Celebrimbor’s king, but yours as well," he turned to the men. "And while I am not a king of men, nor would I wish to infringe on that position, I would like to help protect their interests in this matter while also continuing to help ensure the peace between elves and uruk, if you wish to make use of this offer."

Gil-Galad, Elrond, Celebrimbor and Adar had talked about this beforehand. Considering what position the men were in, and the already established peace between uruk and elves, Celebrimbor was well aware of the way it would be taken if most of the elven nobility stood united in the face of Arondir’s concerns, and those of the men. Hence, Elrond had suggested Gil-Galad act as intermediary, advocating for the peace and the alliance while helping Arondir do the same for the men’s interests – if they wished for him to do so.

This, indeed, seemed to shake Arondir from his wary state. He raised his eyebrows for a moment as his eyes widened. The men certainly were mesmerized, right before they began to frantically whisper among themselves. And while Celebrimbor tried not to eavesdrop, the sounds that drifted over didn’t sound as hateful as he had feared, but rather curious. Cautious, yes, but also hopeful.

The soldier studied the group before him, then nodded. "My king Oropher has made a similar proposal, when I last spoke to him," he stated, almost as if challening Gil-Galad to withdraw his own offer, but the High King merely nodded back at him.

"I am most glad to hear you have his support as well," Gil-Galad replied. "I am afraid today’s events won’t lend themselves well for negotiations of the kind you are seeking, but rest assured that we all would like to partake in such talks as soon as would be convenient for you."

Arondir’s face only remained tight for a moment longer and then, slowly, it seemed as if some of the tension was easing off of his shoulders. He did not look happy, per se, but less guarded than he had been when first entering the halls. Maybe they had managed to prove to him that they were all ready to try and make the situation better. For everyone involved, however much it was possible.

Finally, the soldier inclined his head. "Yes, I understand. The men aren’t going hungry or lacking for shelter, at least, but the seasons will turn quickly and preparations for winter should start as soon as possible. I would like to take up such talks before long, once the festivities are concluded."

Celebrimbor smiled encouragingly, and inclined his head as well. "Of course, my husband and I will follow your suggestions. We can offer Ost-In-Edhil as a place to negotiate, but we can also come to Pelargir. Or you might wish to travel to Lindon or Greenwood, to hold these talks in a place that neither party considers to be partial to one side, or the other."

Arondir looked at him, and then, his gaze slowly drifted to Adar again. Celebrimbor tried not to show his own apprehension, but thankfully, Arondir’s face remained mostly placid, and his next words were brisk, but diplomatic. This soldier truly had an excellent hold on his emotions, despite the obvious passion he held for helping the men of the former Southlands – he would make for a great commander one day, or a leader figure among the men.

"Is that your stance as well?" He paused, and looked the uruk square in the face, testing. "Adar."

The uruk, too, had remained impressively diplomatic so far. Celebrimbor was glad to see this; it was a far cry from the brazen uruk leader he’d met months ago in Adar’s war camp, who had threatened to raze Eregion to the ground and stick Galadriel into a cage at the frontlines of his own army. Whether it was Celebrimbor’s influence, the victory over Sauron, or him having reached so many of his goals, the smith couldn’t say with absolute certainty. But he approved the change wholeheartedly either way.

"It is," Adar replied, and stepped forward just a little. He too, stared Arondir in the eye without flinching. "I will travel wherever you wish for me to be, and I will listen to your demands. As long as neither my children nor my husband and his people are threatened, you have my ear."

The inclusion of himself into the things Adar would not see endangered warmed Celebrimbor’s heart, and he couldn’t help but subtly grab Adar’s wrist to squeeze it. Despite the situation, their gazes briefly found one another, both of them fond.

The elf flustered a little as he turned back and saw Arondir look between the two of them, assessing, but seemingly more curious than embarrassed or taken aback. Perhaps he, like some of the others, had suspected Celebrimbor to be part of a loveless, purely tactical union that might have been to his overall detriment, until then.

Or maybe he hadn’t thought Adar capable of any warmth at all, towards anyone.

In any case, the moment passed too quickly for Celebrimbor to parse it, when the soldier did something unexpected – he reached out a hand, and held it out in front of Adar steadily. "Will you promise that, right here and now?" He asked. "That you are indeed willing to negotiate a peace with the men, like the one between elves and your kin? That you will keep your children from threatening or attacking or otherwise bothering them? That you will work towards reparations to Pelargir, and…" He briefly faltered. "and a lasting peace, if we are so fortunate as to come to a place that it might be possible to achieve such a thing, however unlikely it seems now?"

Celebrimbor’s breath caught, nearly overwhelmed by a multitude of feelings – hope being the strongest among them. It bloomed brightly as Adar, too, extended his hand, and gripped that of Arondir in a firm handshake.

"I will promise all of that, Arondir of Beleriand," he said, voice serious, attention focused on the elf. "I too wish for my children, and all of Middle-earth, to find peace and security once more. The Deceiver has been defeated. Now, hopefully, we might build something stronger, better, from the ruin and ashes of his attempted return to power."

It wasn’t a guarantee, or a peace, it wasn’t even a proper first talk, yet. But it was a start. As Arondir and Adar shook hands, and Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad exchanged the smallest smiles, the smith found that he felt some measure of optimism nonetheless. It would take much time and effort, but this-

This looked promising, at the very least.

#as I wrote this chapter I realized it did not feel right to me to completely avoid the topic of how Mordor came to be the home of the uruk #no idea if I did a good job of adressing it but I at least wanted to acknowledge that Adar (while acting in the interest of his kin)#did quite things that had devastating consequences to others - like the former Southlanders #and I tried to follow my perception that redemption is possible and encouraged in Tolkien's works while not completely glossing things over #of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #marriage of convenience trope #political marriage trope #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine

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victorygrasped · 2 months ago

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Tell me, then, how to share a heart that must ache

Because I feel like it, shares a ficlet I wrote some time ago for my beloved friend for our beautiful AU that we've been ill about for the past months, wherein Ramattra and Hanzo meet at some point after Ramattra leaves the Shambali, but before the formation of Null sector, and the two travel the world together for some time before parting ways due to circumstance

pairings: Left vague, but implications of Ramyatta and Ramzo, with a focus on Hanzo from Ramattra's perspective word count: 1517

A conversation between Ramattra and Zenyatta, taking some time after Null Sector's Invasion, regarding the situation between himself and Hanzo.

The question arrived on the dawn of the spring's equinox. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Zenyatta had chosen the day on purpose. As much as Zenyatta was averse to metaphors, Ramattra knew intimately that the omnic happily indulged in his fair share of poetics. Especially when it was to make a point.

“He is important to you.”

It was said as an observation, not a question. Neither of them required clarification to who the 'him' in question was, and yet Zenyatta deigned to provide one anyway, as silence lingered for moment too long.

“Genji’s brother, Hanzo Shimada.”

“He—”

He doesn’t enjoy that. Shimada.

Ramattra stopped the words from falling out, fingers twitching from where they rested in meditative pose at his need for correction. He hesitated and, briefly, he considered lying. Avoid the topic for fear of what it could entail, return them instead to the idyllic nothings they had been exchanging mere moments ago before the lull in their conversation had given Zenyatta his opening.

He could, the temptation fleeting, yet he knew he wouldn’t. It had only been a matter of time, and he was not fool enough to believe he could hide his heart from Zenyatta. The world? Unquestionably. But not Zenyatta. Never Zenyatta.

Letting out a quiet, resigned, sigh, Ramattra gave the answer they both already knew.

“Yes,” his voice quiet, tinted with static. A confession, “I suppose he is.”

He paused, a moment of contemplation. Part of him felt… uncertain. His trust in Zenyatta ran deep, he knew there was no reason for him to feel so tense. Perhaps it was only natural, It would be the first time he’d been asked such a thing so directly.

Even between Hanzo and himself, it had all simply... happened. They had never truly discussed the nature of their situation. There had been no need to, when their eyes had been on each other and the horizon before them, ignorant to how each step brought them closer towards cliff's edge.

It was unfamiliar, trying to say with words that which they had only ever said with actions.

“Genji has told me much about Hanzo. Your paths have a number of similarities,” Zenyatta eventually continued as silence stretched, gentle as he could be with his words. An effort Ramattra was grateful for, as much as it sickened him with shame, “And yet... I would not have expected it. Especially considering his attempt on your life.”

That caught his attention. Ramattra's head snapped up away from his hands to meet Zenyatta's gaze.

“How—”

He bit down his words and the tremor of bitterness threatening to encroach into the conversation, if it had been Zenyatta's… student, who told him of such detail. As much as he wished to avoid questioning, the day had been pleasant. He did not wish to ruin it further when he had already ruined so much when it came to Zenyatta.

Ultimately, however the other knew of that particularity held no real importance, and if the need rose, there would be time for to ask later. Letting out a small huff and forcing away the tension that'd spiked within him, Ramattra averted his optics once more, mind turning towards the past instead.

“Make no mistake, it'd hardly been in my expectations, either,” he allowed his tone to go wry, faint trace of amusement finding its way into his words, “It hadn’t occurred to me that it could even be a possibility until long after it had already happened.”

Perhaps that was exactly it had happened. It was such a ludicrous idea, for him to have grown... for him to have found companionship in the human, that Ramattra hadn't been unable to to defend himself from it, the lack of foresight voiding any chance for preparation.

“In hindsight, the transition from him being merely some human, to…” his voice softened without his awareness, laced with unspoken thoughts he himself would fail to understand, “Hanzo, was so unremarkably mundane, it took some time for the significance of it to process.”

More accurately, he had not allowed himself to process it, as if avoiding its mention, avoiding pointing out each time where Hanzo took a step closer and each time where Ramattra had allowed him, would have preserved the peace they'd somehow carved out in an unforgiving world.

It wouldn't have been until much later, as he attempted to rip each trace of it out his chest, did he allow himself to realize how fool he had been.

He had been a fool, yet he knew it could have very well been worse had he dared to bring light it. Like this, they could at least pretend to others it had never happened. Like this, the world could remain ignorant. Like this, Hanzo could be safe.

“You... speak of him with familiarity,” there was hesitation in Zenyatta's words and posture, uncharacteristically uncertain.

Ramattra could hardly blame him. After all, how could Zenyatta know? Zenyatta, who had been there to witness his love for humanity be chewed up, spat out, and stepped on, time after time? Zenyatta, who had been his resentment grow with each day, the only one there who held his hands as they shook from ill contained fury and discord, terrified he might snap within Monastery walls?

The very notion of Ramattra having possibly found connection with a human... Zenyatta was neither shallow nor a fool, but it was only natural for him to have been surprised at such notion. He knew plenty well just how stubborn Ramattra could be.

And yet, Hanzo... it had all occurred long after Ramattra had left the monastery, unable to bare another day within its walls at the knowledge of his people suffering at human hands. It had all occurred long before he had waged a war, liberation, against humans in desperation to save his people.

All that had happened in between... all that could have been... all that had been...

At the end of the day, it meant nothing. Their paths diverged, as his and Zenyatta's had. It was pointless to ruminate on the past, the thought clawing into his chest in painful insistence.

It mattered not, how guilt and regret may threaten to drown him, so long as they didn't. He had left Zenyatta. He had left Hanzo. Left behind those days where he could have pretended to be something other than what he was in reality, because he could no longer stand to indulge himself as his people relentlessly suffered around him.

It didn't matter how good of a thing it had been. It didn't matter how much he might have missed them. It didn't matter that it had nearly shattered him to be on the other side of the battlefield from them.

It didn't matter how often he had to break his own heart if it was a means to an end. His duty, his fury, his love gave him the strength to continue forwards and that was enough. Ramattra was secondary to his people, those he loved and grieved. It was a truth he could never change.

“You speak of him with familiarity,” Zenyatta repeated, tone quiet, questioning, drawing Ramattra out from his spiraling thoughts, “As he speaks with of you.”

The thought of Hanzo still caring, for all of the evidence he'd been provided, continued to twist an arrow deep within Ramattra's systems. What could he possibly say to that? He was at a lost for words, something that had begun to grow disconcertingly common.

How could he possibly explain it all to Zenyatta?

That Hanzo had been the only human to meet his gaze without disgust or range and not flinch away, that Ramattra had only ever seen such boldness from Zenyatta before?

That Hanzo's trust had been intoxicating to have, that every time the archer had fallen asleep resting against his chassis, it had burned and left him wanting?

That he had been happy? That through Hanzo's eyes, Ramattra had almost begun to remember why he, for all of its cruelty, had once loved the world he'd been Awakened in?

That he could have... that they could have...

“We spent some time traveling together,” Ramattra said briefly instead, unable to look at Zenyatta directly, unsure of what the omnic might be reading from his body.

There would be a day where he could dare to say such foolishness aloud without evisceration. Until then, he knew Zenyatta’s patience, and for once, Ramattra begged for it. Just once, a promise, as broken all his promises had begun to sound. Just this once, and next time, he would be brave.

“I suppose it is only natural for the two of us to learn some things about each other along the way, before…” a falter in his words, a crack in his attempt for nonchalance, “...Before.”

“...What happened?” Zenyatta's tone quiet, as if he did not already know the reason. As if the very same had not happened to him, all those years ago.

Still, Ramattra would humor him with the answer. In this, at least, he required no hesitation.

“I did.”

#void writes #fic #ramattra #tekhartha zenyatta #hanzo shimada #and because i can #ramzo #bowstaff #at least is what i've seen for them tosses my stone to that pond tagging things got hands #technically can be read as romantic for either hanzo or zenyatta but it's also ramattra and the way i write ramattra so it's up to you #guy who's kind of intense with his feelings like that #guy who does not know how to love in half measures and it Will be his doom <3 as a treat #anyway erm hiiii preview into what i've been ill ab for the past handful of months #me and my friend when we get a little silly with it and then it turns into something that can be so. elaborate #our beautiful vision i love you putting characters into situations and them Clicking regardless of canon interaction #one of those how can we make everyone have an even worse time for funsies #and the answer to that is often to give them something so terribly saccharine that its absence is all the more devastating #batting my lashes at my friend btw i know you're reading this ooo you want to make that ow sideblog so bad so i can tag you ooooo

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