#badbunfromhell

He tried to remember what had happened last night. Tani was in town and she had brought an array of exotic goods as usual. The Khazad-dûm dwarves were good for more than mithril; they also provided access to a vast trading network east of the Misty Mountains. This time she hadn’t brought fine fabrics and beautiful glasswork; instead she had spread out an array of dried mushrooms, each a more alarming combination of colors than the last.

“We tried some of these when my kin brought them to Khazad-dûm,” Tani said. “A monochrome fabric will look like a rainbow, you’ll feel heat and cold like you’ve never felt before, and problems that have been locked deep in your mind will come springing out. But you have to be careful — if you consume them with darkness in your heart you might spend the whole night screaming.”

Annatar knew from the first sentence that passed Tani’s lips that the Gwaith-i-Mírdain who were gathered around the dwarf were going to try the mushrooms, even if the consequences she had described were twice as likely and twice as dangerous. He also knew that her description was accurate. He had encountered such plants in his journeys in the east and seen them used by sages and torturers alike. 

When they gathered in their corner of the common room that evening with a jar full of sweet fruit and nut paste that would be their vehicle for the mushrooms, Annatar had tried to demur.

“Eating a fungus is not going to grant me any insights I don’t already have. Besides, I don’t even metabolize the chemical components that create the psychedelic effect.”

“But couldn’t you change that?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Yes…” The next question was inevitable.

“Don’t you want to try it with us? You might not discover anything you didn’t already know, but you won’t know until you try.”

“It would be a waste,” Annatar tried as a last ditch attempt.

Celebrimbor squeezed his hand under the table. “There is plenty for us all to share.”

“Fine.” Some time later he needed to figure out why he always caved when Celebrimbor asked him to do something. It could potentially interfere with things. “If we really are set on ingesting strange mushrooms on the word of a dwarvish trader—” Tavi made a noise of protest. “We should try to only consume the mushrooms. Other mind-altering substances like alcohol should be avoided; they will only interfere.”

From his position curled up in Celebrimbor’s bed, Annatar eyed an empty wine bottle cast on the floor. He vaguely remembered making the smallest alternation to his liver so that he could feel the effects of the mushrooms. Was that the error? Or was it the alcohol he must have ingested? Or did he have more than one mushroom, or even worse, multiple kinds of mushrooms?

He remembered Celebrimbor pressing the drug against his lips and smiling widely as Annatar did the same. He remembered being convinced that he’d made the alteration to his liver too subtle as he laughed at his friends discovering their own fingers, the grain of the table, and the bubbles in a fermented drink. He remembered Celebrimbor pressing his face to Annatar’s neck, murmuring about colors so beautiful he couldn’t bear to see. And he had told him to look because even if he forgot in the morning it was worth the joy of seeing now. Annatar had not been looking at the candlelight, or the condensation on the glasses, or listening to the rippling ebb of voices; he had been staring at Celebrimbor’s face.

That was the last coherent memory. He dragged himself upright and dourly eyed the trail of clothes that led to the bed. He couldn’t imagine the state he had been in to throw his clothes on the ground with no thought to their upkeep or proper place.

Physical sensations are only temporary. Pain is meaningless, Annatar thought to himself as he slowly put on a linen shirt and carefully folded the rest of his garments and set them on a table. He picked up the empty wine bottle, grimacing the whole time, and finally exited the room.

“You’re up!” Celebrimbor greeted him from his desk with a devastating amount of energy. 

“Yes,” was all he could manage as he took in Celebrimbor, fully dressed and very awake. He took a second glance as he slumped on the couch across from him. His relatively composed state was not quite as impressive as it had been at first; he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his braids were definitely on their second day of wear. “Did you sleep at all?”

“No. After I helped you to bed, I stayed up all night writing on colorimetry.” He gestured at the stack of paper next to him. “No promises that it’s comprehensible though,” he said with a wry smile.

“Aren’t you tired?” Annatar found Celebrimbor’s complete disregard for what one might term healthy habits concerning at the best of times, but more and more he was wondering how he’d survived the First Age.

“Not at all! Look what else Tavi brought us.” Celebrimbor thrust a mug of pungent liquid towards him. Annatar recognized another familiar plant from the east: a bean that could be used in several different forms as a stimulant. He had used it in the past as a paste given to slaves to increase productivity. Celebrimbor was of course drinking it as if it were as harmless as water.

“Aren’t you tired of modifying your state of being with chemicals?” he asked.

Celebrimbor just laughed at him. “Actually tonight we were going to try the set of mushrooms we didn’t get to last night. Will you join us?”

“Absolutely not.” While Annatar was not perfect, no matter how he strove for it, he could at least resist making the same mistake two nights in a row. 

“Very well; I don’t think it will be quite as enjoyable without you.” The cool silver  eyes were so warm.

“Aren’t you going to sleep at all?” Annatar asked, trying to convey his disapproval. 

Celebrimbor began throwing some things in a bag. “Maybe this afternoon. Lofrik composed a ballad last night, he’s going to perform it soon. Would you like to join me?”

Annatar could think of few things he’d like less in his current state than listening to a dwarvish ballad composed under the influence of psychedelic mushrooms. “I would not.”

Celebrimbor poured him a glass of water and sat on the arm of the couch as Annatar drank it. “Want me to have anything sent here?”

“Just some bread.” He should probably object to being fussed over, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. 

Celebrimbor laughed. “I’ll have someone come by. I’ll be back later to try to convince you to join us again tonight.”