Untitled

"I've gone too far to begin all anew"

None are allowed beyond the shadowed gallery. Within these locked halls, he speaks to someone no one else can hear. Sometimes tenderly, as if to a lover; other times with fury, as if to a foe. Now only the portraits remain—haunting echoes of Celebrimbor. But it is not truly the elf; it is something else, something sinister. His silver eyes stare down from the walls, frozen in eternal judgment. Alone, Mairon communes with canvas and memory… and sometimes, from the darkness, Celebrimbor’s sweet voice answers, like madness whispering back.