Chapter Text
It was a crisp and clear morning in a tiny seaside village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Numenor, where the sea never slept, the small and cozy waves always lapping at the edges of the docks they had built as people came and went throughout the day doing their busywork and running their shops.
It was a particularly crowded day at the market, where stalls and shops lined either side of the main road through the town. The sound of chattering and the ruckus of footsteps filled the air, along with the occasional horse passing through; not to mention the whispers of your own name that came not so quietly from the lips of some of the nosier townsfolk, though now that you noticed it, it seemed like all of the townsfolk were in on the rumors surrounding you.
Numenor had a great dislike for Elves ever since the rumor that an Elf had taken their King started to surface many years ago, and that spread like a tidal wave throughout the villages and smaller towns that lived within the Kingdom. Soon everyone believed that the Elves had something to do with their missing King, and though they couldn’t stop the Elves from living in Numenor, they shunned the race and did everything they could to make sure they were as unliked as possible.
It was a cruel thing for them to do without grounds, of course, but you really couldn’t care less, for you believed yourself to be completely in the right about your decisions to support the Elves.
A smug smile spread across your lips as you entered the bookstore, one of your favorite places to be anytime you didn’t have chores to do. The smell of leather and paper immediately hit your nose, the tall shelves stacked with scrolls and expertly bound books on all sorts of topics. You inhaled deeply, feeling at home within the maze of shelves as the owner of the shop caught your eye and smiled softly at you.
“Mae govannen, Arondir! I hope the morning has been pleasant to you so far.” You greeted the Sindarian Elf with a respectful nod of the head, pulling out the small, red leather book you had stashed away in your satchel.
“Apart from a few curious passersby, all has been quiet. It’s good to see you, (Y/N).” He greeted, his voice the same quiet tone it had always been. Pleasant, and befitting him. You held the book out to him and he took it with gentle hands, setting it on a pile of books waiting to be put on their proper shelves.
“I came to return the book you lent me."
The Elf smiled, he was always grateful for your patronage as almost no other human ever came into his shop in this town simply because of his ears. But you had always been able to see past that, and so his shop was now like your second home at times. Arondir had his reservations about you at first, but over the years, you two had grown to be friends, even exchanging gifts on special occasions. He had been particularly fond of the cloak you had given him one year, with a wooden clasp that spoke to his Elven heritage, it was a gift he would treasure forever.
Likewise, he had gifted you a small bottle of healing tonic, one imbued with the Elven healing properties that other parts of the world whispered were unparalleled in their abilities. You were human, and thus susceptible to injury, so his gift seemed both caring and practical, exactly what you had come to expect from an Elf like Arondir, though maybe not in such an expensive and personal fashion. Not that you were complaining. The gesture had strengthened your bond as friends.
“Finished it already?” He spoke your name with a raise of his brow.
“Oh yes, it was just too lovely to put down! You know I enjoy stories of far off lands and adventure!”
“But you were just here three days ago.”
“I know, but can you blame me?”
“I suppose not… Perhaps you have also come to borrow another then?” Arondir’s voice was laced with a teasing tone, knowing you all too well in the years you had both lived in the town.
“Perhaps…” You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face, immediately making your way to one of the shelves that reached the height of the building in the back, climbing the ladder to one of the taller sections of books.
“I apologize, but I haven’t gotten anything new in a few weeks. It’s becoming more of a hassle to trade with the merchants here, the Sea Guard seems to be tightening their grip around the Elves…” You could hear the hint of disdain in his voice, completely warranted.
“Well… That’s the wonder of books Arondir, you can read them over and over again and never get tired of them.” You tried to not feed more into the topic of the Sea Guard, your eyes wandering over the shelves looking for that one particular book.
It took you all of half a second before your hand rested on the spine of one of the more worn books, lifting it from its perch and making your way down the ladder before you placed it in his hands.
“I’ll just borrow this one!”
“That was the book you took from me five days before this one.” Arondir chuckled, picking up the red leather book you had given him minutes ago. “Plus you’ve read it so many times before, do you never tire of it?”
“No, never. It is my favorite book here.” You had fond memories of this book, it being the first one you ever borrowed from Arondir.
There was a few seconds of silence where Arondir seemed to have been thinking something over, before he placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Well, if you like it so much, then you may keep it. As a gift.” He gave your shoulder a pat before returning to his desk to grab the pile of misplaced books, you hot on his heels behind him.
“Arondir, I couldn't possibly-“
“I insist. You’ve done far too much for me in the years I’ve known you, (Y/N). You’re a kindhearted woman, and I know many of my kin also appreciate when you visit them as well. I’ve heard them say as much.” He knows how the human townsfolk see you, and so his compliment was not one idly placed. You needed someone to remind you every now and then that you were appreciated.
“Sometimes I think you were sent for a reason with how much you have helped the Elves staying in Numenor since you first sailed here. What is that saying the Numenorians have? “The sea is always right?” He chuckles. “I believe they might be onto something in your case.”
With a smile, you bid Arondir goodbye and set off into the bustling market, nose in your borrowed, now owned, book. You had always liked this story, the one about the Human who fell in love with an Elf and how they devoted everything to each other. You had always found it so romantic, despite what everyone around you said. Who’s to say an Elf couldn’t love a Human? They’re both just people, living in the same world and breathing the same air.
You mainly read it for the romance, finding something so endearing about someone giving up everything for you, even eternal life… You sighed dreamily.
If only something like that could happen to you.
The back of your book suddenly hit something hard and shoved the pages into your face. You had walked into-
“Hello (Y/N), what do you have there?”
You could feel your face cringe from within the pages of the book as you withdrew from the proximity of the man you had run into, though you wouldn’t put it past him to have just stood in front of you, waiting pitifully.
“A book, Halbrand. Haven’t you read one?” There was a bit more venom in your voice than you cared to admit, but he deserved it, practically having your father, Celebrimbor, wrapped around his charming finger. Enthralled by the swordsmith's knowledge and dexterity around his inventions.
Perhaps you could see why your father was working with Halbrand, from some odd perspective, but you would never understand why he let Halbrands grubby minion follow along… You had heard the mans name a few times. Waldreg, an older human who seemed to be more wrapped around Halbrands finger than your father was, if that was even possible. Waldreg always cowered, like some lesser specimen while in the presence of Halbrand, and it thoroughly disgusted you.
You didn’t know why Halbrand and Waldreg were aiming to get so close to your father, but you didn’t like it. There were too many reasons, none of them good. You cared too much for your fathers wellbeing, for while the noble Elf might not have been your father by birth, he had cared for you long enough that there was no difference to you. He was a wonderful father, supportive and enthusiastic about your hobbies, just as you were about his.
Halbrand laughed at your comment, to any other person it would have been an unassuming and charming laugh, but to you there was something underneath. Something you couldn’t see.
“Of course I’ve read books, half of the books in that library came from me, I’d have thought you would have known that.” There was a glint in his eye as he smiled at you, a wide smile that made a shiver run down your spine.
“You’re a smart girl with all the books and scrolls you read. Why not be smart and come have a drink with me? Take a break from all that reading, hm?” He wrapped his arm quickly and firmly around your shoulder, leading you towards the tavern that he frequented with his gaggle of Numenorean men he sometimes went hunting with. Oh the good times where he went off hunting for a few days and left you with blessed silence.
“No- No Halbrand, I’m quite alright. Reading isn’t some chore for me, and I must return to my father.” It was a struggle escaping from his grasp, as he seemed intent on ignoring your wishes and dragging you along anyways, but after a bit more wiggling and straining, you wormed your way free and made a safe few feet of space between the two of you, Waldreg snickering behind you.
“You mean the knife-eared inventor who can’t even make a proper relic without the help of my Lord Halbrand?” He let out a wicked laugh, slapping his hand on his knee like he had made the most amusing quip of his life.
“How dare you call my father that!” You could feel your face heat up at the insult, almost tempted to hit him across the face with your book before Halbrand beat you to it, hitting Waldreg upside the head with the back of his hand.
The smaller man whimpered, groveling immediately before Halbrand. It made you pity him in the most uncaring way imaginable. It was like watching a rat, or something lower… How could someone value themselves so little?
“Do not speak such words again.” Halbrand spoke rather calmly, enough to make you question if he was serious or if he was just trying to deceive you to gain your favor. Your stomach churned a bit at the thought of the second option, a sour taste rising in your mouth. He might stoop so low.
With a final glower towards Waldreg, and a suspicious look at Halbrand, you turned on your heel without so much as a goodbye, and made your way down the road towards home, following the sea and the sunset as it led you back to the house you had lived so long in, a cozy cottage that lie nestled behind the treeline that gave way to the smooth sands of the beaches and ocean beyond it. There was light to be seen in the window, sparking like a forge as smoke rose from the wide chimney, Celebrimbor working tirelessly on his newest project.
You opened the door into your house and was greeted by your father pacing in front of his forge, coals smoldering within its fiery depths. He held something in his hands, a black sword hilt, its blade broken, a strange sigil on the cross guard.
“I don’t know why you keep that thing around; you can’t melt it down, and we do not know if its blade can be remade.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, hopeful that he would set the weapon aside. It was his newest fixation, and you didn’t even know where he had found it!
“There’s something special about this hilt though, I can feel it. Why else would it be so stubborn to my attempts at tampering with it?”
“Special? Strange maybe, but not special. Surely you have other things to do besides stare at that old hilt for hours on end? You haven’t been doing that the entire time I’ve been gone, have you?” You teased him, setting aside your new book on the shelf and hanging your satchel out of sight.
“You would find that amusing, wouldn’t you, (Y/N)?” The Elf’s voice returned your own tone, setting the blade down he went to stoke the coals in the forge.
“I was hoping to start heating the hilts metal tomorrow, but I fear I do not possess enough of the right material if it does indeed prove that that blade can be fixed. I am planning a journey to visit the Dwarves in hopes that they will resupply me.” He said little else on the subject, and that always left you with little light into his projects, so you resigned to just support him from afar by running extra errands and doing a bit more housework.
There were days where he would come to an impasse in his work, and so Halbrand would step in and use his knowledge to undo the situation, setting everything on track again. You hoped that with your father leaving for Khazad-dûm, Halbrand would have no reason to visit, but you knew that was wishful thinking…
There was a feeling of worry that crept into your head, but you had to trust that all would be well on your father's trip, so you saddled Berek, prepared Celebrimbor some rations for his trek, and sent him off on his journey with a heartfelt farewell, watching him and your beloved horse fade into the distance.