“I was worried about you,” Annatar said at last.
Celebrimbor stilled.
“I knew you were going to be alright. Eventually. You are strong. Stronger than anyone I have ever known,” Annatar said, crossing his arms – perhaps unwittingly. “Nevertheless, it was ... unpleasant to watch. Unpleasant to know that I had been the cause of this.”
“It’s fine.”
“I know. But I could have done without ‘fine’ being preceded by pain.” There was tension in the line of Annatar’s shoulders and a shadow on his face. Celebrimbor did not like it. It had no place here, in this sun-flooded room, on this wonderful winter morning, where everything was silver and gold and light.
He stepped up to Annatar, took his hands and gently pried them out of their stiff cross of defence against the Maia’s chest. And when that was undone, he stepped even closer until they were almost nose to nose, intertwining their fingers. “No shadows,” Celebrimbor said softly. “Not today.”
