Work Text:
"Annatar, Annatar."
Celebrimbor's voice at the door, followed by an insistent knock. Annatar was sure it was at least two in the morning and, although he was awake because he didn't really need to sleep, he felt at first nervous about this disturbance to his peace, then pleasantly flattered by the fact that the elf was looking for him.
He stood up and opened the door, and two brown eyes and a mane of black hair with messy braids peered out. The elf's face was smudged, as usual, with soot and charcoal, but what caught the maia's attention most were his hands: they were stained with blood and were holding a cloth.
Annatar was surprised and looked back into the elf's eyes.
"I... I have something to show you," his voice was feverish, filled with a strange enthusiasm. "It... It's really peculiar. I thought it might interest you, and..."
"Tyelpë, if I didn't know you, I'd say you're worrying me a little."
Celebrimbor grabbed Annatar's hand, unable to contain himself for a few more seconds. "Let's go!"
Annatar barely had time to close the door behind him before he was dragged away by the blacksmith.
"Can you at least tell me what it is?" he muttered, growing increasingly confused as he tried to ignore the way Celebrimbor's hands had stained even the hem of his white robe with blood. As Sauron, this wouldn't have bothered him, but when he had to pretend to be an innocent maia sent by Erü to bring peace to the Middle-earth, being stained with blood wasn't... very welcome.
"You know the black cat that often wanders around the garden?"
Annatar concentrated for a few seconds before remembering the funny animal that had hissed at him several times. "Oh, yes."
"She... She gave birth to kittens..."
The maia felt increasingly confused: since when had Celebrimbor become so interested in cats that it made him go crazy?
"And...?"
"And..." Celebrimbor lowered his voice, stopping abruptly in front of the stables. He turned around, giving the maya a small, knowing smile. "You'll see."
The stable was dimly lit by the lantern Celebrimbor had grabbed before entering, and there was a religious silence except for a few low neighs. Annatar huddled close to the elf, following him as his curiosity grew exponentially, until they stopped in a corner filled with straw. The maya immediately heard the chirping of small beings: many black kittens curled up against their mother's belly, a large black stain that looked more like ink than any living creature.
But that wasn't what caught his attention.
Celebrimbor ducked into a more private corner and Annatar saw him.
Far from his mother and all his siblings lay a single kitten with a single large eye in the center of his head. The rest of its face was completely deformed, as if there hadn't been room for its small pink nose and mouth, which lay almost level with its neck.
The maia hesitated for a moment, then, curious, touched the deformed little body: it was cold.
"It was born deformed and died, but the mother and all the other kittens survived," the elf smiled. "But... It's too bizarre, don't you think it's..."
"Curiously perfect in its deformity?"
Annatar continued to stare at the cat, surprised by the words that had come from his own lips and Celebrimbor placed a hand on his shoulder. "I knew you'd like it."
The maia almost laughed, "You think I like deformed and dead things?"
"Well," Celebrimbor tilted his head, amused, "You have a strange taste for the bizarre, even if you try not to show it."
Annatar blushed and looked back at the cat. He didn't... He didn't want the elves to know who he really was, he didn't want anyone to suspect anything. He had tried desperately to hide any interest he had in the vagaries of the world, the imperfections and flaws in Erü's creation; a maia was supposed to appreciate only beautiful things, perfect things.
That cat was a discordant note in the Song, and he shouldn't have been able to appreciate it.
But Celebrimbor seemed to accept that too.
"It's okay, I like weird things too," he stroked Annatar's hair, "Otherwise I wouldn't have liked you."
Annatar's face turned the color of fire, a mix of embarrassment and indignation building in his chest. Then he turned, looking at the way Celebrimbor was laughing, and the indignation washed away, giving way to something softer and warmer.
He touched his hands, staring at his ring, and the sweet, warm sensation gave way to something more bitter... Guilt?
No, it couldn't be.
Sauron knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. Yes, Celebrimbor would forgive him for that little lie, especially if it was a white lie.
But... Maybe he shouldn't have kept it from him for so long.
Maybe it was the right time to tell him.
He touched his ring, caressing it absentmindedly, and started to open his mouth, but Celebrimbor interrupted him with, "I'd like to bury it in the garden."
Annatar woke up from that daze and looked at him in confusion. "What?"
"The cat. I'd like to bury it in the garden."
The maia gazed at the deformed little body and then back at the elf. "Wouldn't it be better... to preserve it? We could give it to a collector, or..."
Celebrimbor laughed. A crystalline, almost innocent laugh. "I want it to be our treasure. Ours alone," the elf's brown eyes shone in the light of the flame dancing in the lantern. "We could give it to a museum, or yes, some scholar. It would make headlines: all of Ost-In-Edhil would be talking about the bizarre kitten born deformed tonight."
His hand caressed the cold little body, lost in thought. "But I want it to remain something that's just ours. Our... Bizarreness."
Annatar placed his hand on the elf's and smiled. "All right, Tyelpë."
Annatar held the lantern as Celebrimbor wrapped the cat in the cloths he had brought with him and followed him, silently, into the field where the elf had decided to bury him.
Together, digging with their hands, they opened the earth and placed the little body there, returning it to the world that had created it. Their eyes shone, staring at that little imperfection that hadn't had time to live: an imperfection that, in its bizarreness, was so real, so wonderful, so creative.
They wondered how many more discordant notes there were in the Song of Erü, they wondered how many more seeds unable to blossom were hidden in that cold earth.
They covered the hole with more earth and more flowers and, in religious silence, remained there, watching their secret.
Their bizarreness.
And for once since Melkor's death, Annatar felt less alone.