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It was something about his eyes…
No.
It was more than that.
It was the slight tilt of his hips as he stood before the throne. It was the sweep of his long fair hair as he bent in a graceful bow, the soft parting of his lips as he straightened to meet Celebrimbor’s gaze again.
Ah, but it was the eyes - the liquid gold that danced in the light angling down from tall windows, asking, inviting, daring.
It was the smooth tones of his voice as he requested residency, a place in the forges to work and teach, his diction tinted by the remnants of an accent Celebrimbor could not quite place.
Never before had Celebrimbor felt so immediately drawn to another person. In a way, it was almost unnerving, the suddenness, the unexpectedness of it all. It caused his skin to prick, the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on edge. Celebrimbor knew firsthand the dangers rash decisions could raise, the risk of acting on a roused emotion. He had learned from their mistakes, surely. But against this one he had already heard warning.
And yet, what harm could it do, allowing him to stay? Ost-in-Edhil was a city of craftsmen, of artisans and teachers. Here was one who claimed to be all these things, one who could contribute to their knowledge and skills, help them continue to move forward. And was that not why Celebrimbor had founded this city - to be a haven for art and progress and those who worked toward the goals of betterment? What reason had he to turn this newcomer away?
No, Celebrimbor told himself. He would not act upon this feeling of wariness and paranoia. He stood up from his place upon the throne and stepped down from the step on which it stood.
“On behalf of my people,” Celebrimbor said, approaching. “I welcome you to Ost-in-Edhil.”
He clasped warmly the hand that was offered to him - strangely smooth for one who did forgework. But he turned the suspicion from his mind. Perhaps long years had separated this craftsman from his vocation. He released the hand as his mind began to wander (for indeed, with hands this smooth, what then of the rest of him…). All these thoughts he cast aside.
“I look forward to working with you, Annatar,” he added, in nothing less than truth, as the name rolled softly from his tongue.
This earned him a smile of gratitude, and thus confirmation - yes, it was indeed the eyes. For in the face of that gold which now sparkled up at him, Celebrimbor could not pull himself away. He needed no further proof of this smith’s claim: Annatar’s skill to enchant metal was evident incarnate before him now.