[Durelin]

As soon as he entered his house, Maegisil found his wife waiting for him. He stood for a moment to stare at her, and was overcome by her beauty, feeling his love for her renewed just from looking into her eyes. Overcome with emotions, he broke down, and soon found himself shuddering in Sairien’s embrace.

Sairien spoke, her voice full of concern and thick with emotion as she began to cry herself. “I am glad you have come home to me, Maegisil,” she said, running her hands through his hair and dreaming of happier days. Maegisil took several more shuddering breaths before he could respond, shocked by her words and wondering what they suggested.

“What do you mean, my darling? I want only to return to you always…”

His wife pulled away from him slightly, and looked sadly into his eyes. All in that one look, Maegisil understood all the pain he had caused her these past years, and his tears were not enough to express the grief it brought into his heart. He dropped his eyes, and as Sairien opened her mouth to speak he silenced her, softly putting his hand before her lips. He tenderly kissed her and then turned away, now feeling ashamed of his tears. “I am sorry,” he said. Sairien hesitated, wanting to bring him back into her arms, but knowing that he turn back to her on his own.

“I have done you so much wrong…”

“It is all passed,” she said simply, and Maegisil turned to face her again, bringing his eyes to stare into hers. He held her gaze, even in his shame and sorrow, and Sairien felt a new strength in her husband that she always known was there. Perhaps good things did come of the bad. But though Maegisil had finally decided to truly open up to his wife, there was more than Sairien could help him with. And she soon found out that they both needed help.

They talked for three quarters of an hour, and Sairien discovered the root of almost all of her husband’s troubles. It was indeed the Lord Celebrimbor’s fault, and she found herself even bitterer toward the elf-lord than she had been for a number of years passed, always having felt that the lord, in some ways, stole her husband away from her. She almost felt she hated the elf, though there was little room left in her mind for hate, fear overcoming her. After Maegisil fell silent and more tears gleamed in his eyes, she took her husband’s hand and squeezed it tightly, asking Ilúvatar for the courage to go on.

“We should go hear the Lord Celebrimbor speak,” she said, keeping her voice as level as she could. Maegisil found comfort in her strength, and they left together to go to the palace.

~*~*~*~

Celebrimbor had dismissed those still in his presence after Narisiel had left him, and he had begun pacing in his chamber, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. He tried to make the excuse that he had never asked to be Lord of Eregion, but he knew it to be false. He would have been outraged if he had not been supported by the people to become Lord of his realm. And he had relished in the idea of serving his people, continuing the glory of the Elves and renewing the honor of the House of Fëanor through Eregion and its great city of Ost-in-Edhil. He now considered all of his dreams to be failures, as he had not made any plans concerning a threat to his people, nor had he ever considered an end to the Mirdain.

In his heart he knew that this would most likely be the death of the Elvensmiths, or at least to such a great presence in Eregion. Searching for hope, he found none, until he recalled the messenger from Lindon who had brought news of a force sent by the High King Gil-galad and led by the Lord Elrond himself. There had been no word of this force since that message over a year ago, and though it kindled some minute hope in his heart, Celebrimbor considered it just another mockery of his situation. But he had to tell the people something.

Suddenly the door to his chambers opened, and he immediately turned to see who was there, prepared to berate them for disturbing him. But seeing Taurnil’s face, he remembered telling his manservant to inform him when an hour had passed, when it was time… Fear exploded in his stomach as he realized that he still did not know what to say. All logic and reasoned failed him, and he found himself drowning in something that he could not think his way out of. But he squeezed his hands into two tight fists and breathed deeply before exiting his chambers, head held high but dreading every step he made.

Soon he had reached the great doors of the palace structure, which opened out onto an immense flight of stairs, as the building was raised above all others in the city. Celebrimbor had almost forgotten the pride that had influenced him to have it built that way. His usual air of such pride was nonexistent as he watched the palace doors open before him much as Maegisil had watched the palace gate an hour before. Stepping out onto the large landing before the stairs, Celebrimbor felt his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat. The number of people gathered in the palace courtyard made him stare in awe from a moment. He had not spoken in the presence of more than a couple dozen in a long time, and this feeling was almost new to him.

It shocked even himself, though, when he was suddenly calm and confident, finding his footing and remembering that he was an Elf Lord. He began to speak with the pride and dignity that came with his title. “Gwaith-i-Mírdain,” he called out, and his following pause was welcomed with silence. “You are my people, and I have done you wrong.” There were a few murmurs in the crowd, and Celebrimbor almost choked on his words as his eyes flitted through the people, finding innumerable familiar faces. They really were his people.

“We are a great people, and this city is our finest creation. But it is threatened to be destroyed, as are we all.” He was forced to stop speaking for a moment, and he dropped his eyes, finding himself unable to look upon the faces of his people while knowing that it was they who he had doomed. He could feel the tension grow to a new height among the elves before him, and suddenly all was not quiet. Celebrimbor wished he could just let the noise continue and drown him out, so that he could go back to his chambers like a defeated child fleeing to his room to cry. But he brought his hand up to silence his people, and continued, his sorrow clear in his voice though it was still strong and resonant. “The Servant of Morgoth seeks to destroy Eregion, and an army of twenty thousand is even now nearing upon this great city.” He found new momentum in his speech and did not give the people enough time to react for need to listen to him. “Every one of our lives is threatened, and it is the right of the people to know this. And so I beg of you, all those who can fight: help me ensure that Ost-in-Edhil is not abandoned to her doom. But those of you who cannot or shall not, it is now that you must escape to the west. And it is for all of us to take some hope, knowing our strength, and remembering that we are not without allies.”

For a moment, the Lord of Eregion hesitated as a swarm of sound rose up from the multitude of elves, and he felt his fear return to him as he considered continuing his speech. He had said it was the right of the people to know, but was it their right to know more? Surely they did not need to know everything. It was not something that should be of common knowledge, the doom of the last elf of the House of Fëanor. If he was to die, and even if his city were to die with him, the secret of the Rings of Power should die with him. If only he had not passed them on, if only he had not shared the secret with anyone, if only he had worked with Annatar alone… Suddenly Celebrimbor felt there should be a ring upon his finger, and he turned his back to his people to disappear once again through the palace doors.