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To him, she looked like a bright silver sword forged by the skilled hands of his grandfather.
Not a jewel, no. A gem she might have been called by her people, for she was as resplendent and as fair as a princess of elven descent; but her light shone deadly, wild, unwavering, and every time Celebrimbor laid eyes on her he was reminded of a flaming blade, sharp, impossible to break or to melt.
He did not know where she came from, nor did she care to explain much.
Some say another dimension, a land so far away even Valinor seemed close by comparison; and yet, a land so eroded by the hunger for power and blood that Eregion and my lord Celebrimbor’s house had felt like blissful heaven to her.
Some say she hadn’t know until the very end that their time together would have been so short; some say she never loved him.
But I was there, and there was no mistaking the emotions that inflamed her when her eyes rested upon Celebrimbor, nor the tears that she couldn’t hold back while leaving him.
Her name was Rhaenys, and it took my lord a mere second to unfold the etymology of the sound that was to become so dear to his heart. Nís for woman, of course; and rhae for peaceful, serene, trouble-free. It must have been a joke on the Valar part, for the roaring fire inside her was never at peace, even though she was so skilled at pretending nothing could touch her.
The leaves were long and the grass was green when they met.
At a time of evening under moonrise I was wandering with my lord Celebrimbor, singing for his pleasure a lay of love and sorrow. And we came upon princess Rhaenys Targaryen, rider of Meleys, as she was lost in the woods. Red was her raiment as the fieriest flame, but her hair was fair as a silvery wellspring. As a twilight upon the ice of a mountain, as the roar of a mighty dragon, as a fire shimmering on sea waters, such was her glory and her dangerous loveliness; and in her face was a shining light.
And we stood still, and my lord seemed bound under a spell, for she looked as if she had walked out of my song. But she questioned us harshly, and demanded to know where she was and why our ears looked to her eyes abnormal. So we learned that she was of mortal race, and that she had been vanished from her home to be placed in the forest near Eregion forges by an evil force; and despite her cold words I could see that her musical voice filled my lord Celebrimbor’s heart with wonder and desire.
“This is Celebrimbor son of Curufin, lord of Eregion, prince of the Nöldor, the tales of whose creations have become songs among all races. And I am his servant” I said.
“If you hoped to scare me with your master’s titles you are sadly mistaken. I too am a princess, and of royal blood. Rhaenys Targaryen.”
My lord beheld the eyes of Rhaenys and it seemed that words were put into his mouth: “I can see, my lady, that you are a daughter of kings. I am a smith, and to me the beauty of the world lays in all that is mouldable by my hands. But your beauty is above all gold and silver, and beyond all jewels, and it demands respect and veneration. Allow me to offer you shelter for the night, for I am not willing to be parted from you yet.”
And Rhaenys looked surprised and accepted, and they walked side by side under the trees speaking of her mysterious coming and of our realm’s treasures.
Seven moons she stayed with us in Eregion, and always her quick words would make Celebrimbor laugh merrily. And there came a day when they were walking on a greensward among the white stems of the birches; and my lord halted, gazing at her in silence as if fearing that she would hate him had he dared to speak. But Rhaenys Targaryen turned to him and smiled, for Celebrimbor’s artistry and gentle soul had already won her untameable heart.
“What were you about to ask me?”
“My aim is perhaps too high. But I must tell you, Rhaenys. I love you. And if your heart is not with me my fate will be bitter; I’d rather spend the rest of my days in the forges alone than forget the exact shade of your hair or the deep light in your eyes.”
And Rhaenys was amazed by his humble words, for she had seen that he was great among the great Elf-lords and revered by elves, dwarves and men alike.
She took his hands and kissed his mouth, and such was her answer.
In the mist of the woods they lay down side by side on the undying grass, and the fire that lived in Rhaenys Targaryen’s blood took hold of their bodies and their souls.
From that day on always they wandered together in bliss in the glades of Eregion, never parting from each other; and never have I seen my lord Celebrimbor looking happier.
But a shadow fell upon their joy when the people started to murmur that it was not fit that a mortal should have the love of such a high elven lord, and that master Celebrimbor was neglecting his forges because of a daughter of men, lesser than him.
Without their knowing, someone close to my lord betrayed him and found a way to send Rhaenys back to her land. A song of wizardry was chanted, of opening, of treachery; darkness grew, the wind wailed, and when the thunders rumbled it was too late.
Both Rhaenys and Celebrimbor understood that their time together was drawing to an end, short though it had been, and they were overborne by grief, for in their hearts they had always hoped the day would not come.
Rhaenys cried his name and set her arms around him, kissing him, asking him to undo the wicked spell that called her home. But, for all his art, his wisdom and his lineage, not even Celebrimbor could erase that doom.
The light of his eyes already was quenched, and it seemed to Rhaenys that he had become cold as nightfall in winter that comes without a fire. So for his sake she pretended to be strong in the face of our world fading in front of her.
“The hour is hard, love, but know that were I never to walk this land again a part of my spirit will still always be here with you.”
He took her hand and kissed it, then he sent me for his latest creation.
“I made something for you.”
And in her hand he put his last gift, the most precious of them all.
“I called it Carnyrhlas. Carnë is red, in the language of my people; and nyrhlas - nyrhlas means whip. It was designed for you, my beloved. It will be much more effective than a sword during a battle fought on dragonback.”
It was a red whip. My lord Celebrimbor had made it with pearls, and the most luminous phosphor-light gathered of foam in dark places, and all the gems he had found; and the radiant dew of Eregion, and but a single tiny drop of Rhaenys’ own fiery blood.
The whip shone of its own blazing radiance; and Celebrimbor made it so that even its enemies could not stop gazing at its beauty.
My master gave Carnyrhlas to Rhaenys and then he knelt before her as her tears fell upon his gift like rain upon fire.
She tightened her hands around Carnyrhlas and knelt in front of him, unwilling to leave Celebrimbor and our world.
“Whenever I wield this whip I shall be thinking of you.”
“May it protect you always.”
She looked upon his eyes as she was vanishing in thin air.
“Rhaenys, Rhaenys!” cried my lord, but even as her spirit seemed to stoop and kiss his brow she was already gone.
Grief and unrest never left Celebrimbor from that day on.
And when Annatar came to offer his help to no avail my call warned him that he was very, very dangerous: my lord couldn’t rest, for when he was not in the forges he could not forget the unbearable absence of his mortal princess.
I have been told that his last words were for her; and I dreamed one night that they shared a fate of torture and death. I pray that the Valar will let them meet again when the worlds are changed, and walk together under the white birches where none shall disturb their love.