#the trials and tribulations of Celebrimbor - wedding ring edition

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Convenience - Chapter 1, part 1

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story chapter 1, part 1. Despite Sauron’s defeat, remnants and memories of his presence still linger. Celebrimbor finds himself conflicted when the matter of wedding rings comes to his attention.

Hehe, look who’s back – that’s right, it’s me! With a post-story snippet! Can’t believe I am managing to do *that* as well. Truly, this little 'verse continues to be a welcome anomaly in my existence as a fanfic writer. Not complaining in the least though! This is a little bit angsty but it has a healthy helping of fluff and comfort mixed in I think. The boys have won, but that doesn’t mean its all sunshine and rainbows along the way. Thankfully, them being together means it will only get easier as time goes on. (Also yes, the title for the post-story bits collection is a play on 'inconvenience'. I think it’s funny. :P) Enjoy!

"Why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

The question was so wholly unexpected that it startled Celebrimbor from his work. He’d been distracted, again, trying to clean up the forge tower. Almost every part of it had been turned into a mess when Adar, Gil-Galad, Elrond, Galadriel and their guards made to attack Sauron there, likely even before then.

Clearing it of the bodies of the fallen had occured without Celebrimbor present. He suspected that it was done for his benefit, since some of his assistants had been among them. He’d visited the dead in the aftermath, when they’d been prepared for proper burials by elven or uruk standards. He shuddered to even think about it – despite the elation of having prevailed over Morgoth’s shadow, there were still remnants of his presence everywhere.

This question, too, exposed one such remnant.

Celebrimbor turned to the elf who’d asked him the question; Nethiel, if he remembered her name correctly. Not yet an assistant, but an apprentice, quite young and looking at him with big, round eyes. She hadn’t been an apprentice yet when the Deceiver had resided in the city, had in fact only joined the others in Celebrimbor’s employ a few weeks ago. The smith found himself grateful for it.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"A wedding band," she clarified, and – seemingly interpreting his silence for confusion, not dismay – continued. "You are married to the leader of the o- uruk, are you not? So why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

Celebrimbor had always prided himself on the fact that his people didn’t have to fear speaking their mind in his presence. He wanted to be a leader who listened to his people and their concerns, their worries, their questions. Especially so after what had almost happened to Eregion.

And yet, in that very moment, he treacherously wished the apprentice didn’t quite find herself so comfortable asking these things.

She couldn’t know how complicated his emotions on the matter were. How guilt, love, and self-loathing converged whenever he remembered that indeed, neither he nor Adar wore a sign of their marriage, despite the pride he felt towards their union and what it represented – for their people and them personally.

If only it could have been anything but rings.

He sighed and turned to Nethiel. As he looked up, he saw Mirdania throw him a concerned glance as she took off her gloves and moved over towards him.

She, too, had been reluctant to return to the forge tower. Undoutably, she also held painful memories of this place, although she hadn’t spoken of them to him yet. But then again, neither had he, at least not in full.

Elrond had assured him that these things needed time. In theory – and from prior experience –, he knew this to be true. That didn’t make it any less painful in the current moment.

Not just for himself; Mirdania had been one of his brightest, most enthusiastic and gifted assistants. Now, her usually cheery outlook had been dampened in such a way that she sometimes startled at loud voices and generally shared less of herself with others.

Celebrimbor could only hope that she had not lost her passion for forge work as well. It was certainly something he, in part, still struggled with.

Though this was not solely due to one thing, it was a combination of circumstances. The tower, which held bad memories. Smithing, which he had only partially regained for himself in Adar’s camp, though it came easier to him whenever he helped Gurlak in her forge for example.

Making rings, specifically, was something he found almost impossible to even consider at the moment.

Why couldn’t it be anything but rings?

He was saved from having to answer when Mirdania appeared at their side. She easily touched the apprentice’s shoulder, but was cautious as she reached out a hand to Celebrimbor as well, expression unusually guarded. Only when the Lord of Eregion gave her a fond smile did she brighten a little and touch his arm.

"How about you take a little break?" she said, adressing Celebrimbor as much as Nethiel. "We have all been working on cleaning up this place the whole morning. Maybe we should go outside and get some fresh air."

By the apprentice’s confused expression, the dainty elven woman was rather insistent on steering the younger one away, but Nethiel ultimately let herself be guided without a protest. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, looking between the two older elves.

Celebrimbor softened, and shook his head at her. "No, not at all. It’s just as Mirdania said – I find myself a little fatigued, that is all." He motioned for them to walk ahead. "Go outside, I’ll be along shortly."

It said a lot about the apprentice that she nodded in response with a rather contrite expression on her face. She still tried to offer an apology, which Mirdania was quick to dispel with a smile and by deftly changing the topic. The assistant threw Celebrimbor a questioning look over her shoulder – asking, without words, whether he would be okay.

His smile widened, touched by her concern. The smith nodded and slightly jerked his head to shoo her outside. Mirdania, too, could use a break after all.

She nodded, quickly, and the two elven women walked out of the forge together.

With a start, Celebrimbor realized the others who had helped with the cleanup had also left. Whenever that had happened, he had no idea.

It left the elf standing the middle of the messy room. It was a bit demoralizing, perhaps, that he and the others had already done so much work and yet, the smithy still looked as if a maiar had exploded in the middle of it. Literally.

He remembered how one of his builders had mentioned that the forge part of the tower would either need extensive repairs...or to be taken down and rebuilt from the ground up.

Neither option seemed particularly appealing to the smith.

With a deep sigh, he looked up, only to find his husband emerging from the stairs.

It was still a marvel to Celebrimbor how the other’s presence made warmth and the feeling of safety spread through him. How his mood lifted whenever he laid eyes upon the other. The sheer strength of his happiness knowing that this one was his.

It was as if a dark cloud had been cleared from the elf’s thoughts, and he smiled, exhaustedly but brightly, as Adar stroke towards him.

The other also wore a smile on his face. Smaller than Celebrimbor’s, but Adar was typically more subdued in how he expressed himself. To the smith, the smirk was the same as the other giving him a wide, elated smile.

Adar looked over the interior of the smithy as he went, and then quirked up an eyebrow at Celebrimbor. "Perhaps my uruk should come up here and help you after all," despite the flippant manner in which he said it, the uruk’s tone soon became more serious. "Looks like things are coming along more slowly than anticipated."

The elf let his shoulders sink as he looked around. His smile grew smaller, but at least it did not completely disappear. The two of them had always been honest with one another, and while he wished to spare Adar his own self-pity, he did not think it fair to openly lie about his own feelings either. Adar would be quick to recognize them anyways, perceptive as he was.

It was one of the things Celebrimbor cherished about him.

"It’s...a struggle. In more ways than one," he turned to Adar. "The physical work and trying to organize what is left of my notes is taking a lot of time and effort. And that is without considering the prospect that working on the structure itself might be a fool’s errand."

"But that is not all of it," the uruk deduced. Celebrimbor looked at him and nodded, his eyes quickly drifting away again. His smile finally left his face completely, even as Adar stepped close to him.

"No, it is not," the smith admitted, and gladly let his husband hold onto his elbow, a silent, gentle comfort. He returned it with a grip of his own. It brought him back to the time when Adar had killed that hill troll, Damrod, in his camp to protect Celebrimbor.

He was glad for Adar’s strength, his quiet presence. Not just in battle, but in situations like these. The uruk’s history with Sauron had hardened him in many ways, but also made him uniquely suited to understand Celebrimbor’s complicated feelings.

He looked at the uruk, and found only compassion in the other’s eyes. It made it easier for Celebrimbor to be honest, in a way he hadn’t yet been able to be towards his assistants, or even with his friends.

"I’d hoped working on cleaning this place up might bring me some solace, but instead I find myself pondering too many painful memories. And seeing Mirdania and the others similarly afflicted...it’s difficult, at times."

Nevermind all the other things that occupied his mind.

His words sprung forth without his conscious decision and before he could stop them. Adar tended to have that effect on him, inspiring honesty and trust where Celebrimbor would otherwise have been more hesitant. "One of the new apprentices asked me why I didn’t wear a wedding ring, today."

Celebrimbor felt himself grow still at his own words. He hadn’t anticipated the question would bother him that much. Nor had he planned to let Adar know about it, either.

The Lord Father of the uruk had enough to deal with as it was – some of his children were planning on packing up the camp and moving back to Mordor, meaning he was involved in organisational matters most of the day. The rest, who planned on remaining for the ongoing peace talks, needed to be taken care of in terms of food, drink and shelter from the sunlight.

And then there were the peace talks itself, which had overall gone rather well in the aftermath of a shared victory, but were time-consuming and often frustrating with how detailed everything had to be in both word and writing.

Also, there had been some talk of a big celebration as well. Not just of the peace itself, though that seemed to be the main reason. But no, people wanted a proper celebration of the marriage. Since, according to all Celebrimbor had heard, it was considered the foundation of not just the victory over Sauron, but the peace that would surely now come for the elves, the uruk, and hopefully soon Middle-earth as a whole.

So no, something as simple as wedding rings shouldn’t be a concern of Adar’s right now, not when he had so many, and so many more important matters to consider.

Somewhat annoyed at himself, Celebrimbor looked at Adar again. The other had raised his eyebrows and was watching his husband as if trying to figure something out, before understanding dawned on his face.

"You think you should be the one to make them."

Celebrimbor truly did cherish Adar’s perceptiveness, which often worked to the point that the other could glean things from the smith’s mind that he himself hadn’t been quite able to put into words.

Strangely, it was nothing like what Sauron had tried to do. When the fallen maiar had rummaged through Celebrimbor’s mind, it had always been a means to an end.

When Adar spoke aloud what the smith himself did not even dare to think yet, it was a sign of understanding. Of how much he cared, despite how stoic and emotionless he first appeared to others.

The elf nodded, and tipped his head forward. Adar mirrored the movement until their foreheads touched, and Celebrimbor closed his eyes when he felt Adar grab onto his other arm as well.

He felt steadied, understood, kept safe. In this little space, he knew he needn’t fear his own weakness. It was a relief.

"I suppose I do," he admitted, voice quiet. "I am a smith, and I have made rings before. I should be able to do so again, should I not? To overcome what I last made in this forge? To honor us?"

Adar hummed and remained quiet for a moment as the two of them breathed in each other’s air. It was strangely calming to Celebrimbor’s unsettled mind.

"I do not require a trinket to represent, or show, the worth of our marriage. I have not required it when we first joined as potential allies, and I do not need it now that we are joined in love."

Celebrimbor opened his eyes and locked them with Adar’s. The other was so utterly steadfast as he spoke, his words like absolute truths against the questions and worries the smith found himself pondering.

"It is an Eldar custom, not one of the uruk. Do not strain yourself on my behalf, or ours. We are bound by more than shiny metal. And you are defined by more than your last work in this forge – after all, another fine work of yours helped us achieve victory."

Celebrimbor smiled at Adar’s words. Indeed, the sword he had reforged out of Morgoth’s crown had been made after the rings for the dwarves and his attempts to fashion the rings for men. Its pieces still laid where Sauron had been impaled onto it in fact, and the smith let his gaze wander in that direction.

He took a shaky breath and lightly nodded, careful not to dislodge where their foreheads were touching. "You’re right. I know you are right."

Another breath. This one already came out easier. "It’s a struggle to remember sometimes. What you said – that healing from him will take time and that I will face challenges along the way. And that we can forge our own path, together. Thank you for reminding me."

Adar gently squeezed his arms and brought Celebrimbor closer, before he rubbed their noses together. The motion made the elf grin and return the gesture.

The uruk, too, was smiling when he pulled back and cupped the smith’s cheek. "Of course. Come, let us follow your assistant’s example. I think it would do you well to leave these rooms for a while."

The smith nodded, and felt easier as Adar lead him along.

...And yet, even as he felt that his husband’s words were true, as he tried to turn his thoughts away, he couldn’t quite put the idea of the wedding rings out of his mind.

Like his ambitions to surpass his grandfather’s legacy, the idea to overcome Sauron lingered in the back of his skull.

Perhaps, he might surprise himself and his husband yet?