Beneath Starlit Skies

14

She's like a butterfly, fluttering about with excitement in her eyes. It warms his heart to see her so content. She's truly happy to be out here with him. However, beneath her eager exterior, Mairon can sense an underlying nervousness in her posture. He doesn't miss the way her eyes dart to and from the flames. She's as skittish as a puppy.

"Stay several arms length away from the forge." Mairon instructs, suddenly pursing his lips in distaste. There are people watching, looking at Celeriel in awe and wonder. He understands the sentiment, Celeriel is wonderful, but he doesn't like it - the prying eyes. It's a miracle how brave she's being right now with her close proximity to the fire. He doesn't want these stupid men ruining it. "Do not speak to strangers. Stay by my side, Celeriel."

"Yes, ada." She chirps obediently, watching Mairon tie back his hair.

It's odd seeing him like this; with features just a fraction too similar to her own. They look alike now. Almost like a true father and daughter pair - as if it were real.

But it is real, Celeriel reminds herself giddily, Mairon adopted me.

They were family now.

Celeriel was no longer alone.

::

Word of Celeriel's appearance at the workshop spreads, garnering attention and curiosity. Villagers flock towards the forge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive elven daughter. It isn't often that someone sees an eldar child. Such an occasion is rare and the presence of one stirs up a big commotion.

Celeriel tenses at the whispers. The excitement in her eyes dim, replaced with anxiety and wariness. There are too many people. She doesn't like it.

They're human, and that causes strange feelings to rise inside of her, but there are too many of them and they are too loud and—-

It's a complete sensory overload.

Mairon's embracing her before she has the chance to react badly, enveloping her with his arms and shielding her away from the world.

She tucks herself into him, burying her entire body in the folds of his apron. The leather is thick, heavy, and she lifts it up to hide underneath.

She might be hyperventilating.

This was a mistake—

She didn't think there would be so many people. It's too much. She just wanted to see a forge and watch Mairon make something, teach—-

She clings to Mairon's frame, shuddering.

Mairon says something to the villagers in a language she doesn't know and they respond in kind. His tone is scathing. The villagers sound sheepish and apologetic, but Mairon seems displeased, unsatisfied by their answer.

A loud murmuring slowly fades as the crowd disperses. It becomes apparent that few are willing to try the protective parent's patience for a few glimpses of his child.

Moments later, Mairon lifts his protective apron to reveal a bewildered Celeriel.

"Are they gone?" She asks, peeking out from his apron. "Oh!"

The crowd is more or less gone, but a handful of people remain.

"Who are they?" Celeriel whispers, hiding behind Mairon who seems annoyed.

"They are..." he hesitates, "my students, I suppose."

They make awful blacksmiths.

(In his complete, totally honest, and unbiased opinion.)

Few of them appreciate the art. It's all about crude tools and functionality without any elegance. Some learn better than others, but... well, the only student Mairon ever really wants to teach is currently afraid of fire. He's stuck with his current students. How awful. (Then again, even the brightest of students would feel dull in comparison to his ideal student for a single reason: others might be good, but Celeriel is exceptional.)