The one and only Grid Froggit

Random Éowyn with Eorl the Young above her 🐎

(No A/I)

‘Mairon!’ Aulë’s booming voice pulls Mairon from his work, breaking his reverie of concentration. The alloy that he’s been meticulously pulling apart into its constituent metals collapses back into a puddle, and Mairon suppresses a flicker of irritation. He wasn’t that far through, he can start again. ‘My lord,’ he says, turning to face his Vala. Aulë generally only interrupts Mairon’s work for matters he deems important, but that can be anything from ‘urgent new commission for Manwë’ to ‘thinking Mairon needs to socialise more’. ‘I wanted to introduce you to my latest acolyte, Curufinwë Telperinquar.’ He indicates the elda stood next to him. Mairon looks him over, frowning. Dark hair, grey eyes, aggressively Tatyarin features. There’s something familiar about him too, the confident way he holds himself, the proud tilt of his head. ‘Didn’t you introduce me to him already?’ he asks. He’s sure he’s seen those features before. Aulë laughs. ‘Oh, Mairon, no. We really do need you to socialise more often, if you truly can’t tell one elf from another. You might be thinking of his father, Curufinwë Atarinkë – or his father’s father, Curufinwë Fëanáro! You remember him, Míriel’s eldest!’ Mairon vaguely recalls. It was hard to avoid mention of Fëanáro, at least. Aulë didn’t make his favour particularly secret, and Mairon will begrudgingly admit that the elda was particularly talented. Looking at the elda in question, Mairon sees the family resemblance. But there’s something more… open about this one, his features still fine, but more relaxed. The sparks in his eyes speak to curiosity and mischief, more than burning passion. His wide mouth curves into a smile and he opens it to speak. ‘If it helps, I mostly go by Telperinquar. Or Tyelpë, to friends!’ There’s a softening in his pronunciation between the full name and the nickname, his neat accent getting more strongly Tatyarin. Mairon is distracted by the sudden urge to say them both, feel the shift in his own mouth. He bites his tongue. He has no interest in interfacing with Aulë’s pet eldar more than strictly necessary. ‘Very well, Telperinquar.’ He pronounces it deliberately: they are not, and will not be friends. ‘I have noted your presence in these halls and will not have you removed for trespassing.’ He turns to Aulë. ‘Will that be all, my lord?’ Aulë sighs. ‘Yes, that's all Mairon,’ he says, and turns to Telperinquar again. ‘Come, let me show you the storerooms…’ Mairon turns back to his work. He will indeed need to start again: the molten alloy has completely remixed itself while he was distracted. He ought to get on with sorting it again – but something moves him to glance over his shoulder, to look at the elda who had implied that they might be friends. Telperinquar is looking right back at him, over his own shoulder. Mairon immediately turns back to the forge, sinking his hands into the agitated metal – but not before he sees the elda’s grey eyes light up, and knows he's been noticed.

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