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greenleaf4stuff · 24 days ago

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Of Convenience 8.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 8th snippet, part 1. Adar shows Morgoth’s crown to Celebrimbor. The smith has an idea. Adar lets him run with it.

Celebrimbor might not be a natural fighter, but he’ll still find ways to support his allies (especially his husband). It’s so very hard to write anything about this chapter without giving too much away, so I’ll just say – I tried to come up with a plot for this story, got hit with inspiration, and now here we are. I am so curious to see people’s reaction to this one! (And yes, Celebrimbor playing dice is indeed inspired by @plotdesigner’s fic ‚In My Scar Covered Heart‘. :P)

Celebrimbor hadn’t exactly been eager to catch a glimpse of Morgoth’s crown, to be quite honest. Knowing that it somehow still existed in middle earth and was in such close proximity to him was bad enough. If seeing it wouldn’t remind him of the silmaril or his family’s bloody history fighing the original owner of the crown, it surely would remind him of the maiar who had reforged it.

He didn’t have much of a choice however when, during another round of talks, Galadriel had asked – well, goaded – Adar into showing the crown to Elrond. Who, to her credit, had been rather disbelieving of the crown’s continued existence until then.

All three elves had immediately fallen silent and leant away when Adar had walked over to a wooden chest in the corner of the tent, opened it, and used his gauntleted hand to pull out a menacing-looking shape of darkened metal.

He carried the crown as if intending to place it on someone’s head, holding it with both hands and his arms stretched in front of his body as he came back towards them. Only his tight expression revealed that this was not due to reverence.

It made sense, Celebrimbor thought – especially when Adar told the tale of how he’d been meant to place the crown upon Sauron’s red hair...and had driven it's spikes through the Deceiver’s shoulder and neck instead.

The coronation had been Sauron’s attempt to declare himself Morgoth’s successor; a position that would have placed all the uruk under his yoke. Celebrimbor couldn’t imagine he’d treated the uruk any more kindly than his enemies, so Adar taking the crown to him and ‘killing’ the maiar had likely been an act of desperation. And love.

No wonder Adar regarded the crown with such a complicated mix of emotions.

Adar placed the crown in the middle of the table, then sat back down to continue the conversation. Glancing at his fellow elves, Celebrimbor could tell that it was difficult for them to keep their attention focused on each other’s words instead of the object at first, but after a while, they managed.

The smith, however, found himself staring at it for the rest of the conversation. He registered some of the words – their talk revolved around Gil-Galad and his intention to visit the uruk camp to speak with Adar directly –, but for the most part, Celebrimbor focused on the crown and its design.

It did indeed look pointy enough to puncture flesh with, if handled with that intention. He could almost imagine how it must have gone – Adar holding up the crown, turning it around to thrust it into Sauron’s shoulder.

A dangerous position to strike from, though, as Adar would have had to leave his middle completely unprotected. But then again, Sauron had left himself open to injury as well. It made Celebrimbor question what their prior relationship might have been like, as both of them had served Morgoth...willingly or unwillingly. And Adar made it sound as if he knew Sauron quite well, to the point that he understood how his mind worked.

Though it had not made him any less prone to the maiar’s scheming than Galadriel and Celebrimbor had been, the latter silently thought to himself.

He felt an urge to ask the uruk about these things; Adar’s past was still largely shrouded in mystery. But the uruk had avoided any clever attempts of Elrond and more direct goading from Galadriel to reveal more of himself so far, and only offered whatever information he deemed neccessary to defeat their common enemy. Nothing more.

And so Celebrimbor bit his tongue, and settled on waiting (hoping) for a time when Adar might be inclined to share more about this part of himself of his own volition.

The smith’s mind was drawn back to the crown then. It looked to be made of iron, though unusually dark. He tried to parse how it had been made, with what tools and in what conditions, whether any traces of the silmaril or Morgoth had seeped into the metal and still remained there.

He was so consumed with his musings that he startled slightly when Galadriel, Elrond and Adar stood up from the table - their current round of talks had come to an end. Or, at least a pause, it seemed. As Celebrimbor slowly got up, Elrond spoke. "We will bring this proposal to High King Gil-Galad," he looked at Galadriel to indicate he meant the both of them. "If he agrees, he will accompany us into your camp when we return."

"Though, be aware that the king will not come here unarmed, or unguarded," the peredhel added. But it wasn’t said as a threat. It actually rather sounded as if Elrond was just relaying a fact that Adar should just take into consideration.

This, too, was a recent change. It seemed that Elrond was slowly opening himself up to the idea that the elves would indeed join forces with Adar’s army and march on Eregion together.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that, for a few days now, Adar had permitted Galadriel to leave the uruk camp and accompany the herald back on his way to the high king. Which she had initially taken as a way for Adar to test whether or not she would leave Celebrimbor unprotected amidst an army of enemies. But it turned out to be a show of trust instead - that she would help Elrond argue his case, and then come back to spend time with her friend again.

An arrangement that had worked out quite well, in fact; Galadriel had been reluctant to leave at first, but after some reassurance from Celebrimbor, she had. Only for a short while at first, and she had barely gone far enough to disappear from the sight of the guards around the camp, after which she had returned in a hurry.

It had taken a second and a third attempt until she left for multiple hours and came back at a leisurely pace, skeptical but ultimately pleased when she found that Celebrimbor where she’d left him, playing a simple game of dice with Glûg and another uruk guard.

After that, she'd been fine with leaving Celebrimbor and Adar for even longer periods of time, and whenever she returned and found them sharing a meal or conversing, a small smirk stole itself onto her face for reasons Celebrimbor could not quite parse yet.

Adar acknowledged the herald’s words with a humm. "Not unreasonable. Be aware, then, that I will not be unarmed or unguarded, either." This, too, was just presented as a simple fact. Celebrimbor couldn’t help but feel proud of how far they all had already come since the negotiations started.

"Not unreasonable, either," Elrond replied and actually quirked up his lips for a moment. While Adar didn’t return the gesture with a smile of his own, he tilted his head at the herald in a show of acknowledgement.

Elrond and Galadriel were quick to depart afterwards; they wanted to talk to their king, and if Ereinion indeed intended to come to Adar’s camp, preparations would have to be made. The two elves made sure to thank Adar for the food and drink they had received, and spent a moment to say their – temporary – goodbyes to Celebrimbor.

Once they had left, the smith sat back in his chair. "That went quite well," he judged as he gave Adar a smile of elation. "I think we might indeed be close to a treaty now, with the high king willing to walk into the camp to negotiate with you directly."

Of course, talks with Gil-Galad would surely pose their own difficulties. He had neither the fiery temper of Galadriel nor the biting sarcasm Elrond employed at times, but he was certainly not shy to state his own objections, would not back down in the face of adversity, and held himself with the grace and self-assured air – well, pride – befitting a king. Qualities that were beneficial for rulership, but which might clash with Adar’s own stubbornness and sense of authority during the coming talks.

Celebrimbor decided he would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"It did," Adar agreed, picked up his goblet and took a sip from it. He notably hadn’t sat down at the table again, despite the fact that there was still a half-unfinished meal on his plate. Perhaps he needed to walk off the tension. Celebrimbor had certainly seen him pace their tent like a wolf after the first few negotiations, agitated even as he refused to elaborate on the reasons why, before he stormed off to meet with his lieutenants.

The smith could usually guess the reasons nonetheless, anyways.

"You have been quite focused on that thing," the uruk stated, apropos of nothing. When Celebrimbor raised his eyebrows in question, Adar’s eyes briefly settled on the crown before the turned back to the smith. "Is it because of the gemstones it once held?"

Celebrimbor quickly shook his head, "No, I- it’s not that," his gaze wandered back to the object in question, as if drawn there by something not of his own will. "I was actually considering what it might be made of. Or how it was made."

A light snort, and Adar emptied his goblet before he went to pour himself another drink. Water, this time, instead of wine. Ever since the negotations had started to go more smoothly, wine had mysteriously disappeared from the table during talks. Now, the uruk only offered it when he and Celebrimbor were eating on their own.

A fact that Celebrimbor had noted with a wry sense of humor – he didn’t believe Adar needed the wine to endure those conversations. It seemed more likely he wanted to savor it now instead of using it to calm his temper. Which was, in fact, a thought that softened something in Celebrimbor’s chest.

"Iron, from what little I know. It was Mairon who was gifted in the craft of smithing, not I," the uruk shrugged.

Celebrimbor acknowledged Adar’s words with a nod and humm, before he turned back to the intimdating shape in the middle of the table. "May I?" he asked as he pointed at it. At Adar’s slow nod, he extended careful fingers and gingerly dragged the object towards himself.

It felt frighteningly similar to any ordinary iron crown as he held it in his hands. Cold to the touch, and heavy – it would have likely been uncomfortable to wear for long on the head of any mortal being. It also seemed unwieldy, as the smith lifted it and turned it about in his hands.

Even if he didn’t have the strength of a warrior, Celebrimbor could tell this would be difficult to handle during combat. Which, come to think of it, could prove to be a disadvantage when facing Sauron, who was quick on his feet and – judging by Galadriel's and Adar's accounts – quite skilled in battle. If only it was a bit lighter, and perhaps, had longer spikes-

He stopped. Frowned. Then lifted his eyebrows as he stared at the opposite side of the tent, then back at the crown, and finally at Adar.

The uruk, who had let Celebrimbor silently consider the iron adornment without comment, wore an expression of intrigue that quickly changed to one of caution.

The smith sprung up from his chair, and held up the crown. "Would you...if it could be done, would you want me to...try and improve this? For the oncoming battle?"

There was a very long moment of silence. The uruk’s face held some surprise, but for the most part, it had turned to stone. The smith cringed at himself – in his enthusiasm, taken with his own rapidly forming idea, he had forgotten that this was Adar’s best chance at killing Sauron.

Of course, he wouldn’t want Celebrimbor to tinker with it, so close to finalizing the alliance with the elves and fighting their shared enemy. The smith didn’t even know if he could. And yet-

"I am not sure even one such as you might be able to do that," Adar said, slowly. His gaze slipped off to the side as he pursed his lips and drew his brows. His gauntleted hand flexed where he’d propped his arm onto the table.

And then, as he turned his eyes back to Celebrimbor, "But, if that is your wish...you may try."

Celebrimbor must have looked as astonished as he felt, he was sure of it. Especially so when, after a while, he could see a very small grin grow on Adar's face. It was just as unexpected as his permission, and caused Celebrimbor to fluster a little.

The uruk's next words were quiet. "Though, be careful as you do. After Morgoth, none other than Mairon has been able to even put a dent in this thing. Believe me, myself and countless of my children have tried."

Celebrimbor nodded, and pressed the crown to his chest. He noted with unease the the metal was not warming to his touch, but ignored that for the moment. "I am not certain I will be able to accomplish anything with it, either, but- I would like to try, at least. Since so much depends on it."

He didn't say it out loud, but he meant the fate of Eregion and Mordor just as much as that the two armies, and the lives of his friends, his own - and that of his husband. Which would be in such a vulnerable, fragile state if he were the one to brandish the crown against Sauron. The thought unsettled the elf, had in fact begun to disturb him the more he talked to Adar, learnt of him, stayed with him.

'I do not wish to lose him in this battle,' the smith thought. Not just because of the alliance, or what would become of Adar's children. No, this was - affection, as strange as it still was to admit to himself. He wasn't sure if the uruk thought of them as friends yet, but Celebrimbor certainly thought of them as more than allies by now.

With a resolute, determined expression, the smith straightened, and then went to wrap the crown in some rough fabric. He had a hunch Adar's children might not appreciate it if he walked through their midst with that thing on display.

"I'll ask Glûg to accompany me to Gurlak's forge. Would you send for me, if you receive any word from my friends?"

The Lord Father of the uruk made a shooing motion, and finally sat back at the table, ready to finish his meal. "I will. Go- I have a feeling this will take some time," he motioned at the bundle in Celebrimbor's arms, "And I need to prepare myself for what is to come."

Celebrimbor threw the uruk a sympathetic glance. "If you want my advice, it might be a good call to serve wine once the high king arrives. He is rather fond of the drink, and yours should be of a taste he enjoys," he further thought on it, briefly. "Also, green foods - vegetables, leafy greens. Pickles might do, but do not serve only those." He drew a face.

Adar pinched his lips lest they quirk into another grin, but then showed his assent - and his thanks - with a tilt of his head.

Celebrimbor was struck with how little Adar used his hands in conversations; he and his fellow elves were quite prone to gesturing, whereas the uruk was still as a stone for much of the time and usually moved at a slow, almost leisurely pace. The elf pondered if this was due to the fact that he was so long-lived, or if it had other reasons.

"I will take that into consideration. Now, go. I am sure Galadriel and Elrond will be back much quicker than we might expect."

With a smile and another fond look in Adar's direction, Celebrimbor did as he was bid, and exited the tent. Luckily, Glûg was right outside - and judging by his very innocent, decidedly desinterested look, had been trying to eavesdrop. Again. Celebrimbor ignored it and said, "Glûg, please, take me to Gurlak at once."

#i think celebrimbor is not the only one who is making some friends (even though it less obvious for his husband)#wanted to include a reason why gal wasn't with celebrimbor at all times (this one also serves to build trust so - doubly good)#local smith trying to solve difficult problems the smith way with smith solutions - stay tuned for the results!#of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine #political marriage trope #marriage of convenience trope

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