I have made it a habit not to ask futile questions of the past.
How long could I have maintained my disguise? Not indefinitely– and so whatever else I may have intended in this hypothetical future, Celebrimbor would have learned my true nature eventually.
Perhaps I would have revealed it myself. The trust between us might have grown and flourished, until my foolish heart believed it possible he might accept me as I am, all past crimes forgotten.
…Can you imagine that story having a happy ending? I cannot. Except in dreams.
The beauty of orcs, my dear, is that they already do whatever I tell them to.
But assuming I only wished to enhance their strength and lengthen their lives, I might well have chosen thee, lieutenant. Azog and his brood were noble specimens, and I suppose that mighty brute bred in the pits of Isengard would have been a fine addition as well.
As for the fifth? Hmmm… an age ago there was a captain who served me well in on the Isle. I would have liked her company in recent campaigns, were she still living.
Alas, such notions are confined to the realm of imagination. Orcs serve me well exactly as they are: obedient, resilient, and dispensable.
(( That’s all I’m gonna do for the Untrustworthy Gifts Meme! ❤ Thank you for your submissions! I’ll do this one again, don’t worry. >w< It’s my favorite. ))
For the son of Thranduil, I give an archer’s thumb ring. Carved of soapstone, inlaid with gold, it will give your arrows the power of fate itself.
Any bolt you fire will have the eyes of a hawk and the wings of a tern; it may fly for hours, turn corners, weave through branches, and dodge obstacles in their way. They will find the heart of their target even if you fire blind into the north wind, at a mark that lies half a world away.
Yet you must know precisely at what you are shooting; if there is any doubt in your mind, if your resolve should slip even for an instant, the arrow will kill the first living thing in its path, guilty or innocent.
Take care, for the arrow must be dipped in living blood before it ceases to fly. If its target should be dead before its tip finds their heart, it will be yours it seeks next.
Curufinwë, I have a special gift for you: nothing so insulting as a cursed ring or necklace, but a manuscript of which there is only one copy, whose maker is as unknown as the language it is written in.
To my eyes, this appears to be the sounds of ancient Valarin, but transcribed phonetically into the eldest tongue of the Moriquendi… those who were lost in the darkness of Cuiviénen, whose particular branch of language and people were extinct long before the rising of the sun and moon. Or, perhaps it is a wholly invented lexicon, devised by a lunatic, spoken by no one.
I doubt even Fëanor himself could translate it. But if anyone managed the feat, they would discover secrets from the First Music, known only to the Valar themselves. Which one of them whispered into the ear of the first Quendë, I do not know. There are fragments here from all Creation.
…There is a high probability that whoever attempts to decipher this codex will go completely mad, consumed by questions which cannot be answered, tormented by a puzzle with no matching pieces– but what is that risk compared to the glory of personally resurrecting a dead language, or of discovering the key to the First Music itself?
To have access to primordial power, able to wield it for one’s self in the creation of something wholly original… That would put you on the same footing as Eru himself, would it not?
Here. It is yours, to do with as you please. Good luck.
Twin rings, for twin princes… Wear them both at the same time, and your thoughts will flow between one another seamlessly, as if from one mind. What one feels, so will the other; what one knows, so the other shall know.
Any task you undertake together will be performed by two bodies working as one– twice the speed, twice the strength, twice the intuition and combined talents.
Together you will be an unstoppable force of creativity and might; none will be your equal, for you are two in one. But if you were close before, you will now be inseparable; the desire to act as one will become a burning, cumbersome need, and separation will gradually seem unbearable. The desire for mental privacy may drive you apart, even as independence begins to feel inadequate. The opposing forces will only gain in strength, binding you together as they tear you apart, until only one, bloody option remains…
Will desire for this unique bond poison your brotherly love, turn affection to a hateful addiction? Or will you use this gift sparingly, wisely, for the greater good?
Such a risk… but I’m sure the sons of Elrond are worthy of the task. Surely, the whispers of trinkets are no match for kinship such as yours.
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