[Durelin]

It was already well into the afternoon when Maegisil reached Celebrimbor’s house, and the sun was beginning to set by the time the elf-lord was finished idly speaking of the day’s events, of the comings and goings of members of his court, of the arrival of refugees from outlying towns, and of preparations for the war. The last subject was one that Celebrimbor did his best to talk about lightly, avoiding any details concerning the war, and remaining outwardly indifferent, as if he were only engaging in casual chitchat. Maegisil knew this outward appearance was nothing more than a mask. He was not about to interrupt his lord, though, and he chatted with Celebrimbor for at least two hours, perhaps more, until he found an opening to bring something to the elf-lord’s attention.

“I spoke with someone of interest today as well, my lord,” he said lightly, as if the person he was talking about was only an old friend; and that it was, though not to Maegisil.

“Oh?” Celebrimbor questioned, staring out a broad window overlooking the eastern part of the city, his back to where his counselor sat. Maegisil knew the elf-lord could not look to the east and not think of the threat that lay far beyond the Misty Mountains: far, and yet not so. “Who was that?”

“Narisiel Mirdain.”

The lord immediately turned around to face his friend. “What did you say?”

“I spoke to Narisiel Mirdain today. I was looking to request something of a mirdan, and I remembered she was your friend, long ago.”

Celebrimbor sighed, looking to the floor as he sat back down on a low gilded couch. “Not so long ago, Maegisil.”

“No, I suppose not… She asked of you.”

“Did she?” the elf-lord asked, looking up at his companion with sudden interest, “What did she wish to know?”

“She only questioned me concerning your health. She seemed quite concerned, my lord.”

Celebrimbor did not respond, but only let his eyes travel around the room to rest on a tapestry that he must have stared at a thousand times before, deep in thought as he was now, sprawled comfortably on a couch but not looking at all at ease. He had always been a thinker, and a bit of a dreamer, able to spend hours just sitting and staring at the same spot on the walls of his chambers, contemplating far too many possibilities, probabilities, and worries. Perhaps this was why he had befriended Maegisil, who felt as if he understood how his lord’s mind worked. He empathized with and felt akin to Celebrimbor more than the elf knew, and more than he would ever dare to tell him.

Reading his friend’s face, Maegisil guessed that Celebrimbor’s thoughts were on Narisiel and the past. Feeling it time to break the silence and bring his lord out of his thoughts, he said, “Narisiel spoke of wishing to speak to you. She will be visiting the palace within the next few days…I hope you will be able to take the time to see her.”

The elf-lord looked up at his advisor once again, looking into his eyes and searching them. Maegisil was reminded of how Sairien has searched his eyes that morning and found what she had looked for, whatever it had been.

“Thank you, dear Maegisil. I am glad to hear from Narisiel… I promise you that I will have time to speak to her,” he paused, and a smile appeared to lighten his features, “or make time if I do not.”

Maegisil returned his lord's smile, and his spirits were lightened, even as the world around him darkened.