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greenleaf4stuff · 25 days ago

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Of Convenience 7.1

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 7th snippet, part 1. Once the shock from his previous stroll through the camp has worn off, Celebrimbor risks another attempt. This time, he gets to see one of the uruk forges.

Celebrimbor is finally going to have a chapter in which he experiences no drama. He deserves a break. I have wanted to write about Celebrimbor’s reaction to the (no doubt) much more ‘improvised’ forges of the uruk for a while now, so this is a bit of self-indulgence in that regard. (Also this was supposed to be one part. How does this keep happening to me?!) Enjoy!

Despite how shaken Celebrimbor had been by his encounter with Damrod, he only needed a day to recover enough to chance another excursion into the camp.

He had Adar to thank for that, at least in part – the uruk had stayed in their tent for the rest of the day instead of running his usual errands and engaged the smith in plenty of conversation as he cleaned his sword from Damrod’s black blood. The uruk asked what Celebrimbor had seen of the camp and enquired after his thoughts, but also told him about how the day’s negotiations with Galadriel and Elrond had gone.

This was clearly done to put Celebrimbor at ease, and the elf was grateful for the consideration – even more so because it actually worked.

Still, Adar didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Celebrimbor announced that he would like to explore the uruk camp again by the following day, and sent him on his way with a nod and Glûg by his side.

"Be back by midday," was the uruk’s only request. "So that we may continue our conversation. And so that you might avoid unneccessary danger, perhaps."

Celebrimbor knew Adar’s words for what they were – concern, which also reflected in the tightness of Adar’s mouth and the way he intently stared at Celebrimbor as he spoke. The smith smiled at the uruk. "Of course. I’ll make sure to ask Glûg to usher me back here in time."

Glûg, for his part, appeared almost as if the confrontation with the hill troll had never taken place – he didn’t seem overly cautious or fidgety, and didn’t protest his task to chaperone the elf across the encampment once more. He was, however, quick to ask about Celebrimbor’s wellbeing. Which was surprisingly touching, the elf had to admit.

"I think I’ve recovered quite well, thank you," he replied, and got a nod from Glûg in response.

"Let us walk a different path today." A suggestion which the smith readily accepted.

"Could you perhaps to lead me to one of your people’s forges?" If Glûg thought Celebrimbor’s request to be odd, he didn’t show it – the elf had mostly been referred to as the Lord of Eregion or an ‘elf from a noble house’ in his time here, so he wasn’t sure just how much the uruk as a whole would know about his family history or profession.

"Sure. I think I’ll take you to Gurlak’s – that’s the closest one," the lieutenant pondered, and then jerked his head in the direction they would be heading. As they started to walk, he continued, "Do you want to see how the blacksmiths made the armor Adar gave you?"

"Something like that," was Celebrimbor’s response, coupled with a self-deprecating smile. "I’m actually a smith myself, moreso even than an elven lord I believe."

Glûg raised his hairless eyebrows, then hmpfed. The elf could tell Adar’s lieutenant was skeptical of his claim, but didn’t comment. "In that case, you’ll have to direct your questions at Gurlak herself. I know very little about forging."

The smith hummed and nodded before he answered. "Fair enough."

It didn’t take them very long to reach the forge – Celebrimbor could hear the sounds of large bellows and multiple hammers hitting metal on various anvils from a distance. Sounds that made his heart ache for his own smithy back in Eregion.

He didn’t often allow himself to ponder that which was lost to him – temporarily or permanently. But it was difficult not to think of his apprentices during the quieter hours of the night, or whenever he caught a glimpse of his city through the trees of the surrounding forest.

Working in his forge had been an integral part of his everyday life before he’d fled Ost-In-Edhil. Dare he say it, it had been a part of his identity. And yes, perhaps of his self worth as well. The prospect of getting to witness the craft being performed again, the possibility of maybe even being allowed to perform it himself, eased his heart - at least a little.

He and Glûg finally arrived in front of a ramshackle shed that had obviously been hastily built from scavenged and improvised materials, as seemed to be usual for the uruk. Celebrimbor himself couldn’t find any rhyme or reason to how it had been constructed, just that it would ‘do’ to hold all the neccessary parts of a forge inside.

A group of uruk was scattered around it, working on different anvils. Some halted in their movements as the elf and his guard approached, while others seemed content throwing questioning looks in their direction.

"By the way," Celebrimbor turned to Adar’s lieutenant as they came to a stop, "Adar requested that you bring me back to our tent in time for supper."

Glûg tilted his head, then nodded. As the smith turned back to the shed, he heard the other faintly mutter "Our tent, huh?" under his breath in a tone Celebrimbor couldn’t read, and the elf fought hard not to fluster – or show that his hearing had picked up on the words in the first place, for that matter.

Before the elf could work up the courage to approach and talk to the working uruk around the smithy – most of which were still watching him skeptically –, Glûg raised his voice and bellowed. "Gurlak! Come out, I’ve got someone out here who wants to talk to you!"

Celebrimbor and his guard crossed looks as they heard loud swearing and then heavy footsteps from behind the shed. The smith had no idea whether the way of greeting would prove to be in his favor or not, but he nodded at his guard in thanks nonetheless. The other threw him a grin - not a mean one, but certainly one of humor. Which did not exactly bode well.

The uruk who came around the shed was not at all what Celebrimbor had expected; the one who he suspected to be the aforementioned Gurlak was a tall woman, and built in a manner that would have made some dwarves jealous. ‘Barrel-chested’ seemed like a rather tame way to describe her, with a back as broad as a closet and arms so thick the elf wasn’t sure he could circle them even with both of his own hands. As well as the most ill-tempered expression Celebrimbor had seen that day.

The smith had a hunch that he knew why Glûg might have smirked the way he’d done. He also had a sneaking suspicion the apprehension he felt might be showing on his face.

The uruk, Gurlak, came to stand right in front of Celebrimbor. She was only slightly shorter than him, and unafraid to meet his eyes. Faintly, the elf registered how tiny the smithing hammer she held looked in her hand.

Perhaps that was the reason Glûg had been so skeptical of Celebrimbor’s claim to be a smith, come to think of it – the uruk woman certainly fit the preconceptions people seemed to hold of smiths much more than a tall-grown, comparatively slim elf. Though, to be fair, it had been some time from when he last had to forge things that were as big and heavy as the armor and weapons he could see the other uruk work on behind her.

‘Maybe I should change that,‘ Celebrimbor thought. ‘When I am back in Eregion.‘

Meanwhile, Gurlak was eying him up and down, and then turned herself around to Glûg. "That Adar’s elf?" she asked bluntly. For some reason, Celebrimbor focused far less on the way she was talking about him as if he wasn’t even there, and more so on the fact that she referred to him as ‘Adar‘s’ elf. Huh. "What does he want here?"

Glûg shrugged. "He says he’s a smith. Wanted to see your forge, so I brought him here."

Gurlak turned back to Celebrimbor. "Smith. That one," and then she barked a laugh loud enough to startle the surrounding uruk, before her focus returned to Glûg. "That elf looks as if he’d cough himself to death next to the fire. Noble breed this one, huh?"

"My name is Celebrimbor," the aforementioned elf spoke up, and made it a point to hold Gurlak’s gaze when she turned sharp eyes on him. "And yes, I am the Lord of Eregion. A descendant of a noble elven house. And, in fact, a smith."

He let his words sink in for a moment, before he bowed just a little and continued. "I take it you must be Gurlak? Pleased to make your aquaintance. Glûg said you are a local blacksmith, and knowledgeable when it comes to forging-" a risk, but perhaps it would pay off, "at least more than him, anyways."

For a brief moment, the elf thought he had misstepped as Gurlak narrowed her eyes at him, before she snorted and jerked her chin in Glûg’s direction. "Not difficult to know more than that one. Burned both of his hands when I tried to teach him."

Glûg made a dismissive noise and rolled his head skywards when Celebrimbor peered at him, before he waved the two of them off. "I’ll sit myself down over there, where I keep an eye on you. Have fun," and with that, he wandered over to an empty chair – or whatever counted as one in this camp – next to the shed.

"So, what brings you here, then?" Gurlak asked, drawing Celebrimbor’s attention back to her. There was still something mocking in her stance and tone, which only made the smith more determined to state his intentions.

"I...have not been able to return to my own forge in some time. For obvious reasons," he paused and drew a breath. "I wanted to ask if there was- if I might- could I offer you my assistance in your smithy in some way?"

He was aware that his expression likely held at least a hint of pleading in it – though frankly, he didn’t care. He was itching with the need to do something other than sit around all day and consider his past failings, or withstand the terror that was the immediate, unknown future. He’d go mad otherwise.

Gurlak blinked and stared at the smith for a long moment. "You sure you want to get those fancy robes of yours dirty?" she snarked, and this time it was obvious she was mocking him. Though her tone wasn’t as harsh as Celebrimbor had expected. "I’m afraid our forge is not as pristine as the one you are used to."

In the privacy of his mind, the elf heaved a quiet sigh, and then tried to put on an expression that he had often successfully used when trying to bargain with Gil-Galad. ‘Doe eyes’, was what Mirdania had once called it with a snicker.

"I know it’s likely that I will get ash and soot everywhere, yes. If you could lend me at least an apron or some gloves, that would be wonderful, but I can make do with my bare hands and what tools you have. I just want- need to work."

When it looked like she might hesitate still, he pressed on. "Please, Gurlak."

Celebrimbor could practically see her mind turning his request over, and how slowly but surely, her curiosity won out over her skepticism. "If you insist," she scoffed, and beckoned him to follow her with a wave of her hand. "There’s gotta be something that won’t be too much of a loss if it got messed up. I’ll get you an apron."

The elf’s resulting joy was bright and audible when he said, "I thank you for the opportunity, Mistress Gurlak."

A grunt and a very disbelieving look over her shoulder was his answer, but she did not go back on her word. "Sure. Don’t make me regret it."

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