hadriel | (Text)

Why wouldn't I be able to...in your words..."stand" your voice? (He loves Curufin's voice and finds it soothing.) I would like for you to sing to me. The instrument is secondary, though I could...

Make you a harp, perhaps? Reed would be difficult to come by unless you could settle with a metal version for a flute?

(His eyes widen.) What is a bass? A guitar?

Edited 2017-01-29 09:39 (UTC)

I was joking. [ Smiles at his beloved son. Of course he knows Celebrimbor likes his voice. ]

You can make me a harp, if you like! [ An instrument made by the loving hands of his son would have a very sweet sound indeed. ]

A guitar is a stringed instrument distantly related to a lute or a mandolin. And a bass is a kind of guitar, but it only has four strings, and it isn't used for melody, but mainly for rhythm.

Is your workshop set up for woodwork? I've been trying to get mine together, but I was interrupted by all the mayhem.

A poor joke! (He teases, smiling helplessly, shyly.) I would like to, though it will take time. I need to decide what materials I will use. The sound will differ depending and I wish to discover which suits you better.

(Celebrimbor can play a harp too and the flute. He will test his creations extensively.)

Could you show me the parts? I like the idea of both! (It might be thanks to a certain uncle that he loves instruments so much.)

Not entirely. I could make it so by forging the right tools. Would you like to work there with me?

I try to make a bad joke every now and then. [ Grin. ] It's a kind of tribute to my childhood, when I was free to run wild and be as obnoxious as I chose -- subject to my dear elder brothers swatting me on the head and telling me to behave myself, of course!

We can explore for materials together, if you like. There is a lot of wood amongst the ruins of Hadriel; you just have to know where to look. We'll have to see what's available. Maple for the body, if we can find it. Spruce for the soundboard. And I don't know what we'll do for strings, but who knows? Maybe there's a wrecked music store somewhere.

Yes! I can make some drawings of both instruments, with diagrams of all of the parts. [ And of course, Celebrimbor and he were making this type of drawing when Cele was a young Elfling. It was one of his first lessons in smithcraft. ]

I would very much like to work with you in your workshop. I think that would be fun for us both.

I do enjoy them. (He won't be swatting his father over the head!) Why ever would a little Curufinwë be obnoxious? Shall I ask Uncle for stories?

(He will be doing that anyway.)

Yes, please! I am not too proud to admit that I need guidance. Not that...spending time with you...isn't incentive enough. (While he may not be as fiery and stubborn as Fëanor or Curufin, he can be very stubborn if he does not like another's company.) Strings I can make. I taught myself long before I encountered Annatar. It requires...braiding metal. You must be very delicate about it.

It will be like old times. (He switches to video, tucking a braid behind his shoulder.) I spoke to Uncle recently and I am making myself a battle staff. It will help me keep my balance and serve as a weapon.

(Maedhros had been a kind leaning point - something that isn't easy for his uncle, he knows. But Celebrimbor does not like relying on others unless he chooses to do so.)

You are welcome to work with me any time you wish.

[ Since Celebrimbor has switched on the video, Curufin does, too -- wishing for a sight of his beloved son. He is rewarded with Celebrimbor's sweet, humorous smile. ]

Oh, I used to work SO hard at being obnoxious! As I'm sure your Uncle Maedhros will be happy to tell you. [ A grin of mischief. ]

Guidance or no, I'll enjoy spending time with you, Cel! And I'll defer to your expertise in the making of the strings. Odd, I've made musical instruments, but I've never made either metal or gut strings. [ No animals to rob of their tissues, here! But metals -- there are plenty of those, if you know where to look. ]

A battle staff! What a good idea. [ He's glad for this, both because his son will have another weapon to wield -- and they are needed, in this uncertain place! -- and because it will be less painful for him to walk. ]

I will come for whatever projects we devise in common, and the rest of the time, I will let you make your own discoveries. Which is as it should be. [ He smiles his softest, most radiant smile at his son. His pride in Celebrimbor shows clearly in his eyes. ]

Edited 2017-01-30 01:52 (UTC)

(His smile gentles upon seeing Curufin's face and he gazes at him fixedly, memorizing even the smallest nuances of his father's features. It frightens him that there are expressions he has forgotten - only to recall them recently. Aren't Elven memories supposed to be perfect? Had Sauron damaged that too?)

I think he must have forgiven you a long, long time ago. (He doesn't miss how his uncle changes when Curufin is near. There is love between the brothers.)

I can show you! (His excitement brightens him and takes away the strain that lingers around his mouth and eyes.) Once you see how it's done, it is very easy for someone of your gifts.

(Even his ears pink and he ducks his head.) What should be its design? I could use your creativity, Atar.

[ Curufin's problem is a little different. After Nargothrond, the two of them never met again. Curufin never got to see his son as a leader of Elves, as a friend to the Dwarves of Moria, as a founding member of a kingdom, as a fully matured artist and smith, and as a husband and father. He had missed all the nuances of Celebrimbor's expressions as he grew into these facets of his life and destiny. And he had never known him as the defender of Eregion. That, too, was lost to him. But he eagerly searched that beloved face, today and every day that they interacted, collecting the details of those facial features and all the myriad expressions of which that tender, mobile face was capable. It was compensation for what he had lost. ]

My brothers all forgave me at the time! -- even if they were angry. We did have that: the love. [ He laughs a little, to remember how they were, in those days. That little Curufin, a fifth son who wouldn't be left out, who wouldn't be content with a lesser level of adventure and achievement, just because he was younger than everyone but the twins. And how tolerant Maedhros and Maglor were, considering what an irritation their younger brother must have been at times. ]

I'll be most pleased to see you demonstrate how to make bronze strings. [ He's looking forward to their being in the forge together again. ]

Oh, the battlestaff? [ He's going to encourage his son to design it himself. ] Hmm, I guess the first thing to do is what you've always done. Think about what requirements it must meet, and make some drawings, and look at some materials.

(Celebrimbor had risen like a star after parting ways with his family. He had made connections with other races and seen to their people's protection; he had lived well and been very productive until Annatar darkened his door. Then his pride had been used against him; his pride and his naiveté. Of course he is ashamed. Of course he blames himself. He has been humbled and broken down; he no longer trusts himself to rule nor does he have the desire to rule any longer. A quiet life with family and friends suits him now and he hopes his father and uncle understand.)

I cannot imagine holding a grudge against you for long. (Not when Curufin smiles or laughs. Celebrimbor loves him too much to ever be that angry.) I have fond memories of everyone; there was never a time when I fell or became upset that warm arms did not find me. I love my uncles for that. No matter how distracted they were or how fearful of the future, they never pushed me away.

(He smiles in absolute delight.) We can see what other metals we may use too. Bronze is not the only type I have discovered. (He chuckles.) If only I could make you Mithril strings!

(Celebrimbor pulls a sheet of paper towards him and begins to sketch idly. He knows his measurements, so the height of the staff is easy to calculate. But the build of it is unknown.)

I like the idea of wood. It would be softer against my hand and if I can varnish it, it will last even in water.

[ They do! ]

[ And he smiles at his son. ] I imagine you do have fond memories! Your uncles all loved you exceedingly. When they came into the house, their very first question was always, "Where's Cel?" Or if they met me elsewhere, it was always, "What's the little lad been doing lately?" Their faces always full of eagerness to see you or hear news of you. And when they saw you, they ran to you to swoop you up in their arms and kiss your forehead and laugh with you.

[ His face, too, lights up with delight. ] Mithril strings! -- now that would be something to see! And to hear! And who knows. . . maybe it could be done. I have heard that the gods here will bargain with a person for items or materials.

[ Curufin can't see the paper, of course, but he tilts the phone as though to catch sight of the drawing. ] Wood is a kindly material, isn't it? Not like metal, that is beautiful but unyielding in spirit.

(Color climbs up his cheeks, burning his ears and racing down his neck. He cannot meet his father's gaze, but his smile is surprisingly pleased. Sauron had darkened those sweet memories and his father is giving them back to him. He does remember his uncles holding him and calling for him as if...

As if he were the most important member of the family - though he has always known that isn't so.)

I remember. (His eyes are bright with a fierce, happy light when he looks back at Curufin.) I want to try it with the Mithril. If the gods can give enough of it to us, I could make the whole harp out of it!

(Mithril is special to him and he knows the sound would be unmatched. Besides, the strings would never break!)

I have enough that is unyielding in my life. I want something kind.

[ Curufin smiles softly at Celebrimbor's blush of embarrassment and happiness. If it makes his son this happy to hear tales of his childhood with his loving father and uncles, then Curufin will make a point of telling them often. And truthfully, it was only after Cel grew up that the harshness of the awakening Oath made it impossible for those who loved him to put him first, as they had when he was little. ]

I am glad you remember. Those were good times. [ His voice is soft and tender. ]

Very well, we will see about getting some mythril, then. [ He is already thinking of which god might be the most affable with respect to such a request. ]

[ Oh, so clear, the meaning of that statement. Cel's life was blighted by that which was unyielding. First the Oath sworn by his erring relatives, and the constant wars, and then the awful result of Sauron's advent into his life. ] Then we will make an effort to find what is kind, and make it part of your life. A staff of wood sounds like a good start, to me.

(The mere sound of Curufin's voice - gentle and sweet - makes him feel like a child again. He can almost forget all of those years between then and now. In many ways, he wishes he could forget them. At least the bad parts. There had been good moments.

When he was married... When his daughter was born... Becoming a capable leader for a time... Befriending the Dwarves... Crafting his rings...)

I am uncertain about the gods. I do not want them asking too much of you, Atar. (He pales and reaches up to gather his braided hair into a ponytail.) I think I will keep the design plain for my staff. Something recalled from memory.

(An idea occurs to him and he quickly adds to his drawing, biting his lip to hide a grin.)

[ Curufin, too, feels at these moments as though time has turned backwards. This is a magic he never expected to experience, and yet here it is. It is as though those long-ago events are somehow still here, not simply memory. As though he can hear Cel's childish laughter as he ran down the great hall at Himring, his small, swift feet pattering on the flagstones, his uncles guffawing and running after him, accepting the child's challenge to a game of tag. And those later years, the ones he had missed because he was dead when Cel lived on into the Second Age -- those, too, in a way, he has access to, though less directly. He can see them in Cel's eyes as his son speaks of them or thinks of them. ]

[ But back to this practical matter. ] I am not certain about the Hadriel gods, either. But perhaps it could not hurt to ask them. I will make no bargain with them if what they ask does not sound right to me.

[ And he waits with interest to see what his son comes up with as a design for the staff. ]

Edited 2017-02-04 09:56 (UTC)

(He is happy to share all of the memories that do not include Curufin with him. There is nothing off-limits - except for the obvious, of course - and Celebrimbor wants his father to know his life; to know his accomplishments and what he learned of Middle Earth.)

Please do not. Your well-being and contentment are more precious to me than all the Mithril that has ever existed.

(He glances at Curufin fixedly - protectively - before going back to his drawing. Once he finishes the outline, he holds it up. On the page, a wooden staff is drawn with the head of a horse. It isn't any horse - Curufin may notice it as the first horse Celebrimbor had ever ridden (under his father's careful eye). There is a marking on the carving's forehead that gives it away.)

[ He nods. He may still talk to the gods, but he won't do anything stupid. His decisions have made his son suffer far too much, and he will not add to that. ]

I could say the same of you, my son!

[ When he sees the drawing, he laughs aloud in pleasure. ] I remember! You were just a little lad, and you took to riding as though it were second nature.

I will not make any dangerous trades. (Nothing is worth any complications; any risks. He finishes his sketch and glances up at Curufin curiously.)

I loved that mare. (The recreation of her face is complete with a mane that has a slight curl. Celebrimbor recalls such tiny details with joy.) She was so patient with me and you gave her to me.

[ Curufin nods, and then he smiles a little. In his gentle way, Celebrimbor is laying down the law. A bit of role-reversal in the family can't hurt, and sometimes it's a very good idea! ]

[ He looks more closely at the drawing, and he sees the curl in the mare's mane, and other details that recall that gentle animal. ] And she loved you, as what animal would not? I thought about it for a while before I decided on her as your gift. And what a pleasure it was to see how you took to each other!

[ Happy memories. This one is given freely. Curufin doesn't intrude on his son's thoughts, respecting the boundaries between their minds unless the thoughts are offered, though he can see Cel's emotions in his eyes. It is the emotions rather than the thoughts that he reads, but in this instance, it is the swift graceful lines of a sketch that tell him his son's thought clearly and delightfully. ]

Edited 2017-02-05 14:56 (UTC)

(Certain laws must be laid down lest they repeat the past! Celebrimbor has had enough of rash action! Though he will not speak sharply with his father; Curufin does not deserve that.)

You are biased. (Those words are spoken affectionately and with a healthy amount of shyness.) I brushed her mane every day. I used a stool to reach her and she would lean down to help. I remember when she went into foal too. I was nervous that entire night!

But her foal was beautiful. Just like her. (He blinks and smiles faintly.) It is too easy to reminisce.

[ Oh, what a good dad Cel must have been! XD ]

Of course I'm biased. I'm your father. [ Laughing. ]

You cared for her wonderfully. I remember watching you climbing up on that stool, and drawing the brush through her mane, with that serious look on your face. But then your face would break into such a tender smile when the mare nudged you gently or moved her shoulders to help you reach.

When that foal was born, you never left the stable. I brought blankets and pillows for you to lie down on if you got tired, but I don't think you used them much. I think you were there with us, the head groom and I, the whole time while we helped that foal come into the world.

[ He smiles too. ] I like it when you remember. It seems to make you happy. And to carve your staff with a remembrance of your mare and of those times? -- what a wonderful idea.

Edited 2017-02-06 16:03 (UTC)

(He tried. :( )

Fathers cannot help being biased, I suppose. (He grins at the laughter, happy to be the cause of it.)

She had a kind soul and I think she mothered me more than she befriended me. (The mare had brightened when she saw him - or so it seemed to him. She would blow her breath into his dark hair and if the weather looked ominous, she would carry him swiftly back to the stables.) That would make her foal practically my sibling, wouldn't it?

(Celebrimbor smiles, remembering how anxious he had been to see the baby come into the world. Sleeping had been the furthest thing from his mind!)

There is nothing like witnessing a birth. I liked to visit the stables each time a mare was ready to foal, though duties often kept me from doing so.

(The mare is a symbol for him of happier, simpler times; times he shared with Curufin and Maedhros without shadows darkening the day.)

I wanted to ride at your side since I learned to walk. She helped me fulfill that wish and you gave her to me. I thought all dreams could come true then. With you, I feel that way again, though the prospect is frightening.

Edited 2017-02-07 03:33 (UTC)

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