Disclaimer: The elves and dwarves belong to Tolkien. I just play with them.

Beta: nautika

Written for the Middle-earth Express Prompt #68: Colour

Deeper and Richer
by Nieriel Raina

Colour.

It was not what he had been expecting to find, not in the stone innards of the mountain, nor in the dwarves moving about him; in the gems perhaps, but it was the walls themselves, the different coloured stonework, intricate carving, in addition to the brightly coloured clothing worn among his hosts. Red, green, blue, yellow, rust, sage, indigo, dandelion… and that was just the hoods and tunics! Even the metalwork reflected different colors: rose gold, yellow gold, white gold, silver, and yes, the numerous gems. It reflected a deeper and richer culture than he had originally expected to find, despite his own unusual relationship with one of their own.

The golden-haired elf’s pace lagged, feet almost dragging up the stone steps as he admired a scene carved into the far wall. It seemed to depict the forging of the dwarves by Aulë, who was called Mahal by those made by the Vala, according to his shorter companion, anyway.

The dwarf paused high above him on the winding stone steps, an amused smile plain on his face, a white line amid the ruddy beard. “Come, Master Elf! There is more I would show you, then we shall dine with my father and the king.”

The elf looked up, a sheepish expression on his face, and picked up his pace, coming to walk alongside the dwarf once more. “Forgive me, my friend. I cannot help but admire your home.” There was awe in his voice, and his bright grey eyes clearly showed his delight. “In all the years we have been friends, this is the first time you’ve invited me for dinner, you know,” he added, his tone becoming light and teasing.

The rusty haired dwarf harrumphed, looking down. In a low voice, he admitted, “We dwarves are secretive in our ways, especially with elf kind. I’ve not been allowed to invite you before now.” He looked up with a grim smile. “But you are here now, and I think, after we speak with the king, you will visit us much more often.”

“I’d like that very much,” the elf said, following his host down the stone halls deep within the mountain.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Elf and dwarf stood outside the mountain, looking at the stone walls with smiles. Many decades had passed since they had first befriended one another, many years even since the elf’s first visit to the mountain halls. In that time, the elf had befriended many of the dwarves, overcoming years of distrust between their kind. Together they worked and now, before them was the result.

Towering sheer cliffs rose above them in both directions for several miles, unbroken except for two very small holly bushes, which were almost lost under the looming walls of stone, unless one knew where to look.

The sun had sunk beneath the horizon some time ago and only stars lighted the precipice, and the two friends stood quietly, side by side, waiting. Then the moon, who had been climbing higher and higher, shed its beams over rock and mountain, and the elf walked forward and laid his hands on the rock between the holly, muttering soft words. When he moved back, there were faint silvery lines in the smooth wall before them, a drawing it seemed. A great arch stretched over a crown with seven stars, beneath which was a hammer and anvil. Rising from the bottom were two columns and two trees, between which was a greater star.

“You see, Narvi, I told you it would work; it is just as I said.” The elf grinned haughtily down at his stunted friend who had come to stand beside him. Despite the dwarf’s open-jawed astonishment, a familiar harrumph was all his friend said at first, which only caused the elf to chuckle.

“Well… I admit it works,” the dwarf answered gruffly, “and the hammer and anvil are a nice touch, but why in the name of Mahal did you put trees… TREES, on the doors? It was bad enough that you planted them here on outside! Durin shall either be very angry, or will laugh so hard he falls off his throne!”

Celebrimbor laughed outright. “Indeed.” Looking back at the engraving lined with ithildin, he nodded, well satisfied with their efforts. “It is a good thing we’ve done here, my friend. Trade will increase and our peoples shall mingle freely.”

Narvi nodded. “Aye, but let us return inside now, the air grows cold.”

“Together then,” Celebrimbor said, laying a hand on the old dwarf’s shoulder. As one they voiced the word that most bespoke their camaraderie.

“Mellon.”

The great star on the engraving shone brilliantly for a moment, then faded as the large doors became outlined and without sound, opened, swinging outwards to admit them. A rush of warm air stirred their hair, and side by side, the two friends returned to the warmth of Khazad-dum.

I Meth

A/N – I am assuming that Celebrimbor is Fëanor’s grandson through his son, Curufin. It is possible that Celebrimbor wasn’t born until after the Doom of Mandos was proclaimed on the Noldorin Exiles. I am taking some liberty here and having Curufin marry a Teleri in Middle-earth after they arrived, thus giving Celebrimbor his golden hair, and also giving him ties to the Sindar in Arda, with whom he becomes close, including Celeborn, who married Galadriel.

If you notice similarities between these two and Legolas and Gimli, it is intentional. I don’t think it was chance that Galadriel personally knew Celebrimbor and Narvi, or that she welcomed Gimli. I believe she played an instrumental role in the friendship between Legolas and Gimli, seeing perhaps two friends from long ago.

This is my first attempt at writing the Second Age of Middle Earth.

Please do not forget to review!

NiRi