Set in Stone - Haldir's Story -

Chapter 28

The boats were swinging back and forth in the harbour a little more than usual when a wave rippled through the whole of Middle-Earth. The elves aboard clung to mast, railing or lifelines to prevent themselves from falling into the water. The sea had always been calling them, but certainly not for a swim. "What is happening?" a young female elf called down to the people at the docks, who were mostly elves as well. A male with darker hair, braided in the elven fashion, looked up at her. "Something changed," he stated mysteriously. "Sauron. He has been destroyed." – The crowd started to look at one another and the murmur threatened to drown him out. The female elf wouldn't let that happen. "How do you know?" she cried down to him. "Who are you?" – The other, much older elf bowed slightly. "My name is Círdan. I constructed the boat that will be bringing you to the undying lands." – Now the crowd was turning silent again, looking at him. Círdan liked to keep to himself and even though almost every elf in Middle-Earth and especially Mithlond knew what he did, precious few would actually recognise him when he was standing in front of them. Even in Mithlond's harbour, the most obvious place where he might be now and then. – "We are saved? How do you know?" The young elf didn't let go. – "Life experience," Círdan merely answered and walked away, pretending this would be a sufficient answer. To be fair, it was not even a lie. Life experience indeed helped him to recognise the little earthquake at what it was. Life experience and Náre. His carrying the ring around with him for millennia had him develop sensitivity for affairs that involved rings of power. And the destruction of one and loss of power of another three most certainly disrupted the magical atmosphere.

Círdan returned to the dockyards where the next ship was almost ready. The demands for passage had dramatically increased, as Galadriel had warned him decades ago. As soon as she'd felt something was amiss, she'd warned him so he'd been able to build and abundance of boats – and now he was glad he did back then. Every ship available was dearly needed. A faint joy filled Círdan's heart: it couldn't be long now until the very last of the elves had left Middle-Earth and it would be his turn to go. He'd been waiting for so long now. He was looking forward to seeing his daughter again as well: she'd written him some long letters, but the more accurate information Círdan got from Galadriel. When he'd sent his daughter to see the world and live with the elves, he'd feared from the very beginning it wouldn't work. That he'd waited too long before revealing himself to her. It had never occurred to him that to someone who had grown up with humans, the elves might seem weird or cold and devoid of emotion. He'd been a right fool, and paid the price. Elves didn't sleep, they dozed, but Círdan couldn't even remember when he'd last closed his eyes but to blink. He had been worrying so much it had been impossible for him to doze away, he'd been resting with his eyes open – which indeed did refresh his strength, but it wasn't the same. Some weeks ago, though, a great burden had been taken from his heart and had it not been for this war and the endless demand for boats, he might actually have dozed off sometimes. Daëra was an elf. She had decided and there was no way this decision could be undone now. She was saved. Sometimes Círdan liked to reach out for Náre and see whether he could find his daughter. Usually, it only worked when she was west of the mountains or in Lórien: there was no way he could reach out farther than that. It gave him a good feeling to know where she was. He doubted his daughter knew this was possible, since he'd given the ring away, but indeed it was: not everything faded away with the loss of the ring. Círdan decided it might be a good time to find her now: perhaps she was already west of the mountains, travelling to Mithlond with that sweetheart of hers Galadriel had told him about. Círdan closed his eyes, concentrated and reached out. After a while, though, he realised Náre was nowhere to be found – which was strange indeed, since Galadriel had told him she and Daëra had been to Mirkwood, but would be back in Lórien today. They surely couldn't have set off again, already? Círdan frowned and a weird feeling took hold of his stomach. Something was definitely not right. Náre had – it had disappeared.

Thousands of years earlier

"Celebrimbor? Son, where are you?" Curufin had spent many of his long life's hours looking for his wayward, but talented son, but finding him had started to become trickier of lately. Since he had started forging those rings with Sauron and other of his friends, he had changed. Curufin sighed and looked about the huge cave he was standing in. Chests with different metals were strewn all over the place, forges were lining the walls. It was hot. Elves didn't belong into caves. "Celebrimbor! – I know you are down here. I saw you entering the caves hours ago. You are hardly outside nowadays." Something clanked in an adjacent cave and finally, there was a voice – it was nothing more than a whisper, but Curufin's elven ears would've recognised his son's voice anywhere. "I am here father."

Curufin stepped into the cave: it was a lot smaller than the first one, and a lot hotter. Several forges were lit, Celebrimbor was standing in front of an anvil, looking at something he held in a pair of tongs. It was a ring, still glowing read from heat. Curufin sighed. What else but a ring. "What about this ring, then?" he asked with a fake smile. Celebrimbor hushed him. "Quiet, Father. – The others do not even know I've been forging this ring. I needed to... try something out. On my own." – "Has it worked?" – His son smiled. "I think it has indeed. It is extraordinary. I will call it Nenya." As the ring cooled down, it acquired a silvery shine. It seemed to consist of several interwoven strings that formed some sort of flower. Curufin was stunned: this was true beauty. "Tell me, son – will this ring still be connected to the others?" – Celebrimbor frowned. "I do not know. It has been made with the same magic that Sauron showed us, so I suppose it might. – Look at it! It is powerful, but not destructive, its power is meant to preserve." – "If it can do this, it is a miracle indeed, my son." – Celebrimbor sighed. "I just hope it will be enough. I used only as much of Sauron's magic as I needed to make it work. If I used more, though, I might be able to... perhaps I could make a ring that could rule fire. It would not be as powerful as Nenya, in a way, but – it could rule fire." – Curufin was not convinced. "Would it be a weapon?" – "No – not only. I am sure I could make it heal as well." – "The connection with the other rings – would it be stronger?" – "Yes, but why are you worrying about the connection so much? We knew from the beginning it would be there; it was inevitable." – "Oh, I do not mind the connection – as long as none of the rings turns evil, they may very well be connected." – Celebrimbor nodded thoughtfully. "The connection would not be strong enough for a supposed evil ring to take over the fire ring. Fire – it is wilful. The fire ring would fight back. Like – if someone tried to cut its power, it would not just go down like a flock of sheep about to be butchered. If someone tried to steal the ring's power – it would just release it all. It is brilliant, Father, cannot you see? – It is brilliant."

Curufin wasn't convinced. His son had an awful lot of dreams for an elf. He took him by the elbow. "What if the person who took the power from that fire-ring were not the ring-bearer? – The ring would explode and kill whoever was carrying it while the real scoundrel would be hidden in safety." – Celebrimbor scowled at him, a rather un-elven expression. Curufin started to disapprove of Sauron, his son's new magician-friend. – "Father, how is that supposed to happen? – Destroying a ring's power without touching it and actually destroying it?" – Curufin looked at his son with sad eyes. "The connection. Of course I am no expert in the matter, but as far as you explained it to me, if one ring dies, the others will die with it." – Celebrimbor clenched his teeth, obviously seeing his father's point. "You might be right, but if one ring is destroyed, the others are merely weakened: they would only lose their power if the first to die were extremely powerful. Such a ring does not exist." – ...yet, Curufin was tempted to add to his son's statement, but he could just about stop himself. Making his son angry wouldn't help. Finally, Celebrimbor put the tongs and the newly made ring down upon the anvil. "Look, Father – something like that will never happen. A ring to rule the others will never exist – because I am not going to forge one. And who else would have the powers to do it?"

*I'm sorry this is only a short chapter, but the next one is almost ready and I promise to post it very soon! It will be the last one of this story, unfortunately, but the next one will be coming up straight after! If you found my style a bit heavy - I tried, in vain of course, but anyway - to copy fabulous Tolkien's style of writing as best as I could. The next story, though, will be a bit easier to read, I suppose. I hope you all like cars!!! Lots of looove (and please comment and vote!) Jazzlin xxx*