[piosenniel]

Durelin's post

Late in the year SA 1695

Maegisil rushed up several flights of stairs only to stop and cautiously enter a pair of gilded doors, his mind filled with memories, all that he recalled from a day over a century ago. It did not seem that long ago, and yet the thought that the day he recalled was only several days after he had asked for his Sairien’s hand in marriage was nearly unbelievable.

Entering the chamber behind the gilded double doors, Maegisil found, of course, exactly whom he was looking for, reclining on a long couch and examining a game board with many small, flat, rounded stone pieces on it in designated positions. It was some kind of strategy game that the elf-lord had once tried to teach to Maegisil, praising how consuming it was and how much it put the mind in a struggle, forcing it to think as quickly as it could under pressure. Just what a general needed, he had said. As Maegisil had no interest in becoming a general, and simply wished to remain in his place at Celebrimbor’s side in battle, he had quickly given up on the game.

“My lord,” he began cautiously, interrupting Celebrimbor’s thoughts so that the lord’s head snapped up from the game board with a perturbed look on his face. His face softened quickly, though, and he asked Maegisil what had brought him here.

“Well, sir, we have received word from the King Gil-galad that the servant of Morgoth, Sauron, has grown in power enough that his armies have begun to terrorize the eastern part of these lands.”

“Sauron…much have I heard that name of late.” The elf-lord rose, a troubled look on his face, and began to pace. “He has even been in my dreams,” he paused in his pacing, and in his words, to look Maegisil in the eye, urgency written upon his face.

“It was only a matter of time before he would attack and strike back at our people.”

“But we still are in possession of the Three, and they are safe.” Maegisil cut in, reminding the elf-lord that there was at least one possible advantage.

“I can only hope that they will be more a blessing than the curse that they seem to be,” Celebrimbor quickly said in response to Maegisil’s statement, still unsure of whether or not the safe existence of the Three was in fact a good thing.

“They are not a curse as long as they are safe in the hands of Kings and a Queen of our people," the younger elf assured his lord. “And Lord Elrond has been sent to our aid with a considerable force,” Maegisil said, hoping to bring some kind of relief to his lord, uncertain of what the elf was so afraid of, and quickly growing afraid himself.

“It will be some time before he will reach us here, and Sauron will be moving quickly. Not too quickly – he is too wise for that. But his armies will arrive in Eregion, and they will march upon the gates of Ost-in-Edhil, and he will call upon me. But he does not know where the Three are, nor of the oath I have sworn…”

“We will be prepared for Sauron’s attack, my lord," Maegisil said, again trying to give his lord confidence in the situation. “Sauron is very strong, and our strength here does not match that of Forlindon and Harlindon, but there are many in Eregion that will fight for you.”

Celebrimbor laughed slightly, leaving Maegisil confused. It was almost a bitter laugh, and was the kind of laugh you hear from someone who is distressed and yet finds something to be darkly laughable. “I know you will fight for me, Maegisil,” the elf-lord said, “but I ask it of you and others to fight for our people, for their families.”

Maegisil only nodded, standing grave and silent before his lord, and recalling the day over century ago when Celebrimbor had first told him of the Rings. He was again afraid as he had been on that day, and when he looked at Celebrimbor, tall, fair, and brooding, he knew that the lord felt that same: afraid and uncertain. The biggest difference to Maegisil this time was the more prominent presence of Sauron. Since around the year 1200 of that age, word had it Sauron had been establishing his fortress in Mordor, and now the threat of the Dark Lord was even more of a reality, and all were learning to tremble slightly at that name, most likely to the pleasure of its bearer.

Celebrimbor asked Maegisil if he would bring the King’s emissary to him, feeling it of course proper that he receive them and speak to them himself. The younger elf quickly obeyed and left the elf-lord alone, deep in thought. The master of the Elvensmiths had much on his mind, and few of his thoughts were pleasant.

As he had sworn, the Three Rings, the greatest creations he had ever crafted, which he had hoped would be a blessing to himself and to his people, would never fall out of the hands of the Eldar, as they were hidden safely. They had been for close to a century, as he had long awaited the time when Sauron the Deceiver, or ‘Annatar’ as he had known him for a time, would strike with the power of his Ring. But the other rings were all in Sauron’s possession. Celebrimbor kept coming back to this thought, the knowledge of just how far the Deceiver’s power extended. But, as the elf-lord kept telling himself, he would never have the greatest, the Three. They would be a powerful defense for his people. Or so, at least, he hoped the future of these rings would unfold. I beg of Ilúvatar, let not the Oath of Fëanor mar this.