⤞ IT ALL FELL DOWN ➤ ELROND | HOTD X TROP

↳ iii. EVIL OR GOOD?

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iii. EVIL OR GOOD?
SEASON 1
EPISODE 2
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IT ALL FELL DOWN
HOUSE OF THE DRAGON
x
THE RINGS OF POWER

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EREGION
KINGDOM OF THE
ELVEN SMITHS

 
      || ONE THING WAS TO BE SAID ABOUT THE OPULENT HALLS OF EREGION; THEY WERE STUNNING, METICULOUSLY CRAVED. That wasn't all, for it was the very birth place of a many crafts, weaponry, buildings—the place of the Elven smiths. But even with all the gallant halls, countless workshops—celebrimbor felt it wasn't enough.

He had plans of a grand building, one that would house the largest of the shops—one that could withstand the pressure and heat to make the most memorable of works. He wanted to be remembered. And that was the whole reason for Elrond going to Khazad-dum, to enlist the help of the dwarves.

Frankly, it was to be a simple mission, nothing more—make the deal and be done with it. Or so he thought... When Elrond had arrived few days ago in Eregion, instead of being completely engrossed in overseeing the work of the dwarves, he spent his time searching for anything on this Visenya...

He knew something was up about her or atleast, that Durin was hiding something within those walls. And that's how he came to see Celebrimbor that morning—more than he truly wanted to. As said, Elrond knew something was up and the old smith just wanted to confirm his fear.

Cerebrimbor regarded the bottom of the building with a raised brow—curiosity dancing in his eyes like silvered fireflies, before walking away. He had arranged a feast fit for kings, with tantalizing snacks and goblets brimming with amber nectar. The air was filled with the fragrant whispers of exotic spices—the soft flicker of torchlight casting dancing shadows upon the polished marble floors.

Elrond remained fixed to the window, whilst eloquent words drifted through the room from his lips—speaking of unity between elves and dwarves. The half-elf found himself quite in good spirits that Celebrimbor would get the grand tower he'd dreamt of. 

But as he spoke, the elven smith watched with keen eyes. Despite Elrond's gracious demeanor, a shadow seemed to linger behind his gaze—a veil of distraction that concealed a deeper turmoil within the Elven herald.

Though every word through Elrond's lips wove tales of Durin's good graces whilst at Khazad-dum—his mind wandered to a far-off place. Visenya, her name called by her voice, echoed in the recesses of his thoughts. He kept trying keep his mind straight, to focus on the architecture outside.

But Celebrimbor, ever perceptive, sensed the shifting tides within Elrond's soul. With a gentle yet firm inquiry, he pierced through the veil of distractions that clouded Elrond's gaze. "Are you quite alright?" His voice was a subtle melody, a note of concern that cut through the symphony of words.

Elrond, startled from his reverie, blinked as if emerging from a dream. His gaze, once distant, now focused on Celebrimbor with a flicker of recognition. "Forgive me," he murmured, a wisp of apology tinged with unspoken secrets. "My thoughts must have wandered to distant shores."

But Celebrimbor, wise in the ways, saw beyond Elrond's artful facade. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, narrowed with a silent question that hung heavy in the air. There was no need for words. "It seems," he starts, pouring himself a drink into the goblet, his eyes then darting from the amber liquid to the half-elf." What is troubling you?"