Parting of Ways

The days after the battle with the orcs were tense and restless. Celebrimbor had spent the time recovering in the infirmary, his wounds healing under the care of skilled healers. Meanwhile, Aurion secluded himself in the secret forge, consumed by his craft. The hammer of Fëanor, Tulcanelcar, echoed with the sharp clang of metal striking metal as he poured his energy into creating—and destroying—one piece after another.

The forge had become both his sanctuary and his battlefield. Aurion's emotions were a storm of defiance, pride, and anger, and he channeled all of it into his work.

On the morning of Celebrimbor's return to full health, the sound of approaching footsteps broke Aurion's concentration. He turned from the anvil to see Celebrimbor standing in the doorway of the forge. His cousin's body bore no trace of the injuries he had suffered, but his expression was heavy with something unspoken.

"Celebrimbor," Aurion said, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm healed," Celebrimbor replied, stepping into the forge. His voice was calm but carried an edge that Aurion immediately noticed. "But that's not why I'm here."

Aurion raised an eyebrow, setting the hammer down. "Then why are you here? To lecture me?"

Celebrimbor hesitated, his eyes flicking to the half-forged blade on the anvil before locking back onto Aurion's fiery gaze. "Yes, I am."

Aurion's expression darkened. "Then save your breath. I don't need another sermon about mercy and restraint. I did what had to be done. The orcs are dead, and our people are safer because of it."

Celebrimbor stepped closer, his tone firm but measured. "You don't see it, do you? You're letting your anger and arrogance consume you. Killing without thought, without mercy, doesn't make you a hero, Aurion—it makes you reckless. A mindless killing machine."

Aurion's fists clenched. "Reckless? I saved your life! If I hadn't killed those orcs, you'd be dead. Mercy has no place in war, Celebrimbor. The only language those creatures understand is death."

"And what did your lack of mercy get you?" Celebrimbor countered, his voice rising. "Those last orcs surrendered, and instead of ending it with honor, you tortured them. That's not strength, Aurion—that's cruelty."

Aurion sneered, his anger bubbling to the surface. "You're weak, Celebrimbor. Weak and naïve. You think honor and mercy will save you? They won't. You're nothing but a fool—no, worse. You're a weak elf who hides behind ideals that don't belong on the battlefield."

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Celebrimbor's jaw tightened, his usually calm demeanor cracking under the weight of Aurion's insult.

"Then perhaps I am weak," Celebrimbor said, his voice cold and quiet. "But at least I'm not blinded by my own arrogance."

Aurion's fiery temper flared. "Blinded? I see clearer than ever! While you preach about mercy, I'm the one doing what needs to be done. You can stay here and wallow in your weakness, but don't expect me to stand by and listen to your self-righteousness."

"Then maybe you should leave," Celebrimbor snapped, his voice cutting through the forge like a blade.

Aurion stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and grabbed his belongings. He strapped his sword to his hip and slung his pack over his shoulder, the hammer of Fëanor glinting faintly in the forge's light.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Aurion said, his tone sharp.

As he walked past Celebrimbor, he paused for a brief moment, his voice quieter but still laced with bitterness. "You'll see, Celebrimbor. One day, you'll understand. Strength is the only thing that matters."

With that, Aurion strode out of the forge and into the open air, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Celebrimbor stood alone in the forge, the silence almost deafening after the heated exchange. He looked at the unfinished blade on the anvil, the hammer he and Aurion had crafted together, and felt a pang of regret.

Aurion's departure left a void in Himlad, one that Celebrimbor couldn't ignore. But as he gazed at the embers glowing faintly in the forge, he couldn't help but wonder if this path, however painful, was necessary—for both of them.

Aurion rode away from Himlad, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Anger burned brightly, but beneath it lay a flicker of something else—doubt. Yet he pushed it aside, focusing on the road ahead.

In his heart, he vowed to prove Celebrimbor wrong. To show him that strength, unyielding and absolute, was the only way to survive in a world as cruel as this. But even as the castle disappeared behind him, a part of him couldn't shake the weight of the words they had exchanged.

The path Aurion had chosen was his own, but it was one that carried the shadow of conflict, loss, and a friendship now fractured.