[Amanaduial the archer]

Artamir watched Losrian depart hastily from her archery practise, his eyes, as sharp as his father's, following the young elf-girl's back until she turned under an arch towards the smith's quarters and was lost to sight. Raising his eyes to Leneslath, he started slightly as his friend caught his eyes directly. Ever a clown, he exaggerated the movement comically; Leneslath grinned, then nodded down in the direction that Losrian had taken. "Taking an interest are we, Artamir?" he asked, slyly.

The other grinned back and shook his head, bracing his hands on the cold stone of the ramparts and jumping up backwards to sit on them, swinging his feet casually, the heels of his leather boots thumping dully against the stones that guarded the city. "My mother's apprentice," he replied, by way of explanation, then added, "Nice try," with a wink. His older friend rolled his eyes and swung his feet up on the ramparts beside Artamir, settling comfortably back against one of the battlement pillars as if about to go to sleep. The other slapped at his legs playfully, knocking them down. "Hey! Fine example of Celebrimbor's service you are," he scolded, grinning. Deepening his voice, he made his face sterner, looking at Leneslath as if over a pair of spectacles. "After all, we all have a solemn duty here, all of you young rogues should come to realise that-"

"-for we are the defenders of this city," the older youth continued, doing a near-perfect mockery of Captain Dimloien, the soldier whose unfortunate task it was to train the young elves. "The upholders, the protectors, the line of defense that...et cetera, et cetera." Leneslath made an exaggerated hand motion as if bowing, then turned to Artamir, pointing a shaky, accusatory finger at him. "Especially you, you Aramir, Atamor, whoever you are! Pay attention, or-"

"-Or you'll end up just like that no-good scallywag Leneslath!" his friend interrupted triumphantly, ducking as his scandalised companion took a swipe at his head. Jumping off the rampart, he nodded to the newest of the sentries, who had come to join Leneslath - Artamir himself was not actually a sentry, not yet; that duty would wait until he came of age this summer. Performing a low bow to the two elven soldiers, he swept an imaginary hat off his head. "Gentlemen, I shall leave you!"

"Someone's in high spirits today..." muttered the newcomer sourly as Artamir turned to go, an elf of roughly the same age as Leneslath - the younger elf's antics were playing havoc with his headache, the very same reason he had turned up late and with bags beneath his eyes. Artamir merely grinned back over his shoulder and turned down the narrow spiral staircase in the city walls.

~*~

In the palace overlooking the ramparts that bordered the citadel, Narisiel's eyes did not take in her son's antics, merely turning to the window as an excuse to look away from Celebrimbor while she swallowed against the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. She had thought about this conversation, had run it through in her head again and again the night before, but faced with Celebrimbor himself now, she felt out of her depth.

"Forgive me, my friend; I simply cannot explain to you what I have felt these many years."

Narisiel glanced sharply over at the elven Lord, but his expression seemed genuine. But how could she know? After all, even as she stood so civilly in his rooms facing him, the elvensmith doubted that the older elf could ever guess at the depths of betrayal that she could feel boiling at the back of her mind, stagnant from years of waiting, unreleased, in years of silence. But she would remain calm. She would. She had to - had to know what had become of the rings?

"Forgiveness is a high price to pay from a century of silence, my Lord," she replied, her voice soft and almost croaky coming from a throat dry from nervousness. Celebrimbor did not flinch: he took the words calmly, inclining his head in acknowledgement and looking away from a moment but then, to his credit, looking up once more to meet Narisiel's eyes. She appreciated the gesture and, after a moment, gave a single nod, and asked for the answer that she needed to know to put her mind to rest.

"Tell me of the fate of the rings, Celebrimbor. What has become of them now?"

And even as she asked it, Celebrimbor's expression told her that she was probably not going to like the answer...

~*~