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Literature Text
"Where are the Rings?"
He didn't answer.
"Tell me!"
He didn't answer.
The whip snapped against his skin. White-hot pain shot through him. Celebrimbor bit back an agonizing gasp.
Annatar was smiling at him in that strange, sinister way. But it was no longer Annatar—no longer the smiling Lord of Gifts. It was a demon standing in front of him, cruel and sly and completely merciless.
"Does that feel good, Telpe?"
"Do not call me that!" Celebrimbor hissed.
"I will stop," said Annatar simply, "if you tell me where the Three and Seven are."
"I will never."
Snarling, Annatar turned to the Orc holding the iron whip. "Heat it!" But then he paused, and slowly smiled. "No. Send for a Balrog. I want you to show dear Telperinquar how his grandfather met his end."
Celebrimbor's body shook. His eyes widened in horror, and blood from his bitten lip flowed down to join the dark red stain on his shirt. He took a breath, gasping at the effort and as his lunges filled with blood.A Balrog... a Balrog...
He didn't remember seeing the Orc leaving, but suddenly the two of them were alone.
"Just a few words, Telpe."
"Never..."
"Your voice is weak. Does it hurt? Do you want to be released?"
Celebrimbor looked into the eyes of Annatar, and bitterly wished he had the courage to mock him. Against his own will, his lips were forming words...
"Y...y—" He coughed, blood spraying from his mouth.
"What was that?" asked Annatar.
A sudden fire flared up in him. "I will never tell you! Curse you, dog of Morgoth! Rot in these pits forever!"
Annatar grinned sinisterly at him. "Yes, I think you will."
-xox-
He did not know how much time had passed. He did not know why he was sleeping on such a hard floor. He did not know why it was so dark, or why it was completely silent, or why it hurt to breathe.
"Where are the Rings?"
Ah, he remembered now.
Celebrimbor took a shaking breath and stayed silent.
"This is just the beginning," purred Annatar. "There is more. There will always be more. I will watch your spirit break, and watch you beg for mercy. I will keep you alive...just. Do you want water?"
"It is poisoned," he rasped.
"No, it is not. I need you alive, after all. You will die soon, if you do not have water. I cannot let you die, Telperinquar. You are a precious toy."
"I am no one's toy," Celebrimbor snapped.
"You are my toy," Annatar said calmly, "like you were a toy of your father's and grandfather's. Like you were a toy of the other Noldor, stronger than yourself. Like everyone was a toy of my master."
"... May the Valar ... cast you into the Void ... like your ... master..."
Annatar snarled. "I see there is need of more punishment."
-xox-
Pain tore through every inch of his body as the flaming whip struck him over and over again. His shirt dripped with blood. He could feel nothing—nothing but the scorching heat and unbearable pain. He could see nothing—nothing but a glowing streak of white-hot fire. He could hear nothing—nothing but his own hoarse screams.
"Where are the Rings?" whispered Annatar into his ear.
Celebrimbor opened his mouth, only to meet a whip across his face. He froze, as if dazed, then suddenly fell backwards, limp. The only things keeping him standing were the chains around his wrists and ankles.
"Where are the Rings?" asked Annatar again.
It hurt to blink, so he shut his eyes. For a few seconds, or minutes or hours, he slipped in and out of darkness. But the same voice always echoed in his head, and he could not be rid of it.
Against his will, he answered. "Seven ... The Dwarves ... Durin..."
Annatar's breath hitched with excitement. "And the Three? Where are the Three?"
Celebrimbor chuckled weakly, and moved his head a fraction to the side. "I will tell you not."
Annatar roared with rage. Again and again his sword impaled him, but the Elf kept silent.
"Perhaps you would enjoy a new type of treatment," said Annatar. "I assure you, it will hurt more than you can possibly imagine."
-xox-
"Fire."
The arrow slammed into his stomach. Blood sprayed out from his mouth. He hung there, unmoving.
"Where are the Three?" hissed Annatar.
"Never."
Another arrow stabbed him—this time from behind. Annatar repeated his question. Celebrimbor repeated his answer.
An arrow, a question, an answer. Another arrow, the same question, the same answer.
The next arrow shot him in the heart.
"Where are the Three?" snarled Annatar.
Celebrimbor looked up into those eyes and laughed.
He didn't answer.
"Tell me!"
He didn't answer.
The whip snapped against his skin. White-hot pain shot through him. Celebrimbor bit back an agonizing gasp.
Annatar was smiling at him in that strange, sinister way. But it was no longer Annatar—no longer the smiling Lord of Gifts. It was a demon standing in front of him, cruel and sly and completely merciless.
"Does that feel good, Telpe?"
"Do not call me that!" Celebrimbor hissed.
"I will stop," said Annatar simply, "if you tell me where the Three and Seven are."
"I will never."
Snarling, Annatar turned to the Orc holding the iron whip. "Heat it!" But then he paused, and slowly smiled. "No. Send for a Balrog. I want you to show dear Telperinquar how his grandfather met his end."
Celebrimbor's body shook. His eyes widened in horror, and blood from his bitten lip flowed down to join the dark red stain on his shirt. He took a breath, gasping at the effort and as his lunges filled with blood.A Balrog... a Balrog...
He didn't remember seeing the Orc leaving, but suddenly the two of them were alone.
"Just a few words, Telpe."
"Never..."
"Your voice is weak. Does it hurt? Do you want to be released?"
Celebrimbor looked into the eyes of Annatar, and bitterly wished he had the courage to mock him. Against his own will, his lips were forming words...
"Y...y—" He coughed, blood spraying from his mouth.
"What was that?" asked Annatar.
A sudden fire flared up in him. "I will never tell you! Curse you, dog of Morgoth! Rot in these pits forever!"
Annatar grinned sinisterly at him. "Yes, I think you will."
-xox-
He did not know how much time had passed. He did not know why he was sleeping on such a hard floor. He did not know why it was so dark, or why it was completely silent, or why it hurt to breathe.
"Where are the Rings?"
Ah, he remembered now.
Celebrimbor took a shaking breath and stayed silent.
"This is just the beginning," purred Annatar. "There is more. There will always be more. I will watch your spirit break, and watch you beg for mercy. I will keep you alive...just. Do you want water?"
"It is poisoned," he rasped.
"No, it is not. I need you alive, after all. You will die soon, if you do not have water. I cannot let you die, Telperinquar. You are a precious toy."
"I am no one's toy," Celebrimbor snapped.
"You are my toy," Annatar said calmly, "like you were a toy of your father's and grandfather's. Like you were a toy of the other Noldor, stronger than yourself. Like everyone was a toy of my master."
"... May the Valar ... cast you into the Void ... like your ... master..."
Annatar snarled. "I see there is need of more punishment."
-xox-
Pain tore through every inch of his body as the flaming whip struck him over and over again. His shirt dripped with blood. He could feel nothing—nothing but the scorching heat and unbearable pain. He could see nothing—nothing but a glowing streak of white-hot fire. He could hear nothing—nothing but his own hoarse screams.
"Where are the Rings?" whispered Annatar into his ear.
Celebrimbor opened his mouth, only to meet a whip across his face. He froze, as if dazed, then suddenly fell backwards, limp. The only things keeping him standing were the chains around his wrists and ankles.
"Where are the Rings?" asked Annatar again.
It hurt to blink, so he shut his eyes. For a few seconds, or minutes or hours, he slipped in and out of darkness. But the same voice always echoed in his head, and he could not be rid of it.
Against his will, he answered. "Seven ... The Dwarves ... Durin..."
Annatar's breath hitched with excitement. "And the Three? Where are the Three?"
Celebrimbor chuckled weakly, and moved his head a fraction to the side. "I will tell you not."
Annatar roared with rage. Again and again his sword impaled him, but the Elf kept silent.
"Perhaps you would enjoy a new type of treatment," said Annatar. "I assure you, it will hurt more than you can possibly imagine."
-xox-
"Fire."
The arrow slammed into his stomach. Blood sprayed out from his mouth. He hung there, unmoving.
"Where are the Three?" hissed Annatar.
"Never."
Another arrow stabbed him—this time from behind. Annatar repeated his question. Celebrimbor repeated his answer.
An arrow, a question, an answer. Another arrow, the same question, the same answer.
The next arrow shot him in the heart.
"Where are the Three?" snarled Annatar.
Celebrimbor looked up into those eyes and laughed.
Literature
Maedhros has a what?
"My Lords," was accompanied with a respectful bow. "Three children were found in one of the guards' encampments early this month. Lord Celeborn has identified two of the elves as the sons of Earendil, however the third refuses to give his parentage. Shall I have them escorted to you study, Sire?"
"Yes, that will be well, Athrad," after Athrad left the room, Gil-galad looked at Celebrimbor. "Do you have any idea who this mysterious third child could be, Telpe? The other two were raised by your Uncle."
"I wish I could tell you, however, no whispers have reached my ears of any other child either of my Uncles would have taken in, nor do I know
Literature
The Passing of Arwen
The water rippled silver
The trees all shone with gold.
White elanor was blooming
In Lothlórien of old.
Elvish voices laughing
Silver music in the air.
But I hear now only silence
In Lothlórien the fair.
The mallorn leaves have fallen
Where once the flowers grew.
Time has touched the forest
Gone Lothlórien I knew.
Tear-stained face and empty fingers
As cold as stars above.
Memories, only memories
In Lothlórien, I loved.
No singing; naught but echoes
In the groves where phantoms tread.
Like the trees, the Elfstone faded
My Lothlórien is dead.
But they say beyond this world
Grief and darkness, light
Literature
Forgotten Lantern
Forgotten Lantern
Legolas walked into the moonlit forest. The air was humid and steamy from a soft rain. It smelled of rotting wood touched with a hint of wild honeysuckle. He walked stealthily pressing on the damp floor of the forest through the slanted beams of moonlight that were cast amid the grey trunks of the ancient trees. The air grew heavier as he neared the sacred place beneath the great oaks where he knew he would find his father. A place where Thranduil always seemed to drift away to find solitude. Legolas smiled down at his father’s forgotten lantern—it sat alone casting a silver glow on the tall, wispy grass. It
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Summary: A version of how Celebrimbor died under torture of Sauron, refusing to reveal the location of the Three Rings.
Okay so I'm considerably less proud of this one than I am of the other fic but...Hey, it's Telpe
And it was a write-on-the-spot experiment, so it's all good. It's definitely edited at least a couple of times, I think. So how does that makes it a write-on-the-spot fic at all? I dunno.
Celebrimbor and Sauron (c) JRR Tolkien
Okay so I'm considerably less proud of this one than I am of the other fic but...Hey, it's Telpe
And it was a write-on-the-spot experiment, so it's all good. It's definitely edited at least a couple of times, I think. So how does that makes it a write-on-the-spot fic at all? I dunno.
Celebrimbor and Sauron (c) JRR Tolkien
© 2011 - 2024 StrawberryJam1313
Comments49
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this is rather lovely
however we find out that celebrimbor didn't die, at least from what we know in the DLC of Middle Earth: shadow of mordor. he stole the one ring from sauron and used it to steal his own army from him and nearly kill him. course that failed in the end and poor celebrimbor was cursed to be banned from death, forever to wander as a spirit. poor elf just cannot catch a break
however we find out that celebrimbor didn't die, at least from what we know in the DLC of Middle Earth: shadow of mordor. he stole the one ring from sauron and used it to steal his own army from him and nearly kill him. course that failed in the end and poor celebrimbor was cursed to be banned from death, forever to wander as a spirit. poor elf just cannot catch a break