Unending thanks to Marnie and Bejai for their beta and patience

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The West Gate of... Moria?

by Redheredh

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The private family parlor was relatively quiet except for the rhythmic ratcheting of the great, ancient clock and murmurs of astonishment. Elladan and his little gwathel, Raendos, had unexpectedly happened upon an old sketchbook of his mother’s from when she was a young elleth and its myriad contents were fascinating to them both. Engrossed, they slowly turned the leaves in the small, tattered volume; all sense of time lost as silvan elfling and half-elven ellon toured through each faded perspective drawn from the Lady Celebrian’s life before Imladris.

Raendos sat comfortably squeezed into the wide, upholstered chair beside her tall foster-brother. But, only because she had promised him not to squirm or kick her heels as he claimed she always did when sitting in an adult-sized chair. With his arm around her small shoulders, she rested her head against the elf-warrior’s chest. Needlessly, she helped to lift Elladan’s arm as he kept the loosely-bound book propped up with one hand where they both could easily look at it, while with the other hand he carefully turned the aged pages.

“Oh, look here!” he softly exclaimed with delight as he delicately turned over a new page. “The West Gate of Moria!” His voice took on a mysterious, melodramatic air. “These magnificent stone doors were made to stay shut against even the strongest enemy – against any enemy without, that is. In the end, the Gate was forever closed against an evil within. And indeed, it has withstood all onslaughts and remains fast closed. Few if any alive today know the password that may open it.” Inclining his head, he spoke in a suspenseful whisper next to Raendos’ ear. “Why if it were opened, would any living thing be found within the Mines of Moria?”

“Can Adar Elrond or Nana ‘Rian open it?” asked Raendos, sounding more concerned than thrilled at the prospect.

“I doubt it. More likely the daerydh... but no one would ever tell us anyway.”

“Because you would go there,” stated Raendos matter-of-factly. “Are there many gates into Moria?”

“All sealed as far as I know. All except the smashed East Gate which is watched from Lothlórien.”

“And Daeradar Celeborn will keep you out that way too.”

“Ooh, are we not just the little smuggie-boots today,” teased Elladan, gently flicking her ear with the index-finger of his page-turning hand, eliciting a ticklish giggle. “If you are so smart, do you know the devices here?”

“Yes,” Raendos replied, playfully displaying the proper level of smugness for her epitaph. “There is: the Êl i Nos Fëanor for Celebrimbor and the Galadhad for Celeborn and Galadriel... of the realm of Eregion; the anvil and hammer for the Longbeards and the crown with stars for Durin... of the realm of Moria.”

“Very good! What are the names of these tengwar letters?”

“This is Calma…” She pointed to the sign in the upper-left corner of the drawing.

“For Celebrimbor,” hinted Elladan. Quickly, Raendos followed with the letter in the right corner and bolder letter in the middle near the bottom.

“And this is Orë for Narvi and this is Ando for Durin!” she proudly concluded. “...or is that just to mean GATE?” she said doubtfully, almost to herself.

“Let us say both. A little joke, perhaps,” grinned Elladan. “Can you read any of the big words?” He swept his finger over the arched writing, but above the surface of the paper.

“Some,” she answered hesitantly. “This is... doors… ” Automatically following his example, she now pointed at each word without touching the page itself. “Durin... king... Moria... friend... Narvi... Celebrimbor... Eregion… ” Shifting slightly, she turned a puzzled face to her foster-brother. “Why are Lady Galadriel’s and Lord Celeborn’s names not here? What does it all say exactly?”

“Doors of Durin King of Moria: speak friend and enter. I Narvi these made: Celebrimbor from Eregion is who drew these signs.”

“So they had no part in the making,” she said, plainly disappointed.

“Not exactly ‘no part’.” Both her children startled at suddenly hearing their Nana’s voice from over Elladan’s head when they thought they had been all alone. Celebrian smiled wryly at their surprise and sheepish expressions at being caught perusing her old drawings. She leaned over the back of the chair; her extended hand pointing at the sketch under discussion. “These inscriptions were not carved, but laid down in ithildin. When closed, the doors remain indistinguishable in the cliff face unless there is appropriate moonlight.”

Elrohir placed his hands on his brother and foster-sister’s shoulders to announce his also unnoticed arrival. Their faces turned up to his with welcoming smiles.

“Do you know what ‘ithildin’ is, Lady Raendos?” quizzed Elrohir, expertly mimicking their old tutor, who had also been Arwen’s and was now their young gwathel’s teacher. “And why it was used in this case?”

“Ithildin is a mithril substance that may only be seen in moonlight and sometimes starlight,” she readily answered in proper school-room manner. “Narvi hewed and hung the stone doors, but Celebrimbor made the enchantment that would reveal them and cause them to open on their own. And then only when the correct word is spoken. So, none but the wise friends of the dwarves could find the doors if closed and enter into their realm.” She paused before speculating, “Celebrimbor might have also used ithildin for scribing instead of singing the opening-spell.”

“A very good answer, brennileg,” Elrohir praised, still in character and winking at his mother’s admonishing expression. “Lord Elladan is right to say that you are – ahem! – smart.” Elladan and Raendos laughed heartily at his perfect mockery and rejoined louder when he executed the scholar’s signature inane wave at unseen flies.

“Elrohir, stop setting such a disrespectful example for Raendos,” ordered Arwen with a mirthful chuckle. “You do know I could hear your impersonation all the way down the hall. Fortunately, its imperfections kept me from fleeing for fear of facing the subject of your farce.” She took a seat in her usual chair; a perfect portrait of queenly grace. “What have you there, Elladan?”

“Nothing you can censure, muinthel. Our naneth’s youthful art studies.”

“Depends,” she said with a beatific smile. “Is Adar in there?”

“Enough of that,” warned Celebrian.

“We are discussing the West Gate of Moria,” said Elrohir. He raised his left hand and, shielding the right side of his mouth with the back of his hand, said in a stage whisper, “And its deep, dark secrets.”

“Nana ‘Rian,” Raendos asked. ”Do you know the secret password?” However, it was her foster-brothers that showed an eagerness for their mother’s answer.

Celebrian straightened up and walked around her seated children to seat herself in the matching chair opposite them. Elegantly settling back, she crossed her legs in a very unladylike fashion, which got her an exaggerated look of admonishment from Elrohir. She stifled the urge to correct his impertinent humor so that she might enjoy that when mugging how much more than usual he resembled his father.

“I have been sworn to secrecy.” Her simple answer disappointed Elladan, but Elrohir appeared suspicious of her statement.

“Did you ever know it?” he questioned her, a bit petulant. “And has it not been changed since that time for the sake of safety?” Elladan spoke when Celebrian’s only response was an enigmatic smile.

“The password is probably part of the opening-spell itself” he pondered aloud. “Especially, I think, if this spell was actually ‘sung’ into the illuminations just as Raendos has suggested. Which I think is the case, because they would have had to be precisely altered or completely done over to hold a new password. From what is drawn here and what else I have seen, they never have been. But, then who could do it anyway?” He looked expectedly at his mother. “Am I right?” Her smile drooped.

“You know you are. Other than his master Enerdhil or Fëanor, there has been no other in Ennor who could make such creations as were made by Celebrimbor.” After a slight pause, she quietly said, “Give thanks for that, hîn-nin. That what he himself wrought cannot be remade to serve in any way other then what he intended.”

“Nana ‘Rian, if Daernaneth Galadriel and Daeradar Celeborn had some part in the making of the Gate what was it and why are their names not there with Durin’s?” asked Raendos. “They were the rulers of Eregion then.”

“Well, rulers along with Lord Celebrimbor, yes. Their arrangement was considered rather odd even back then.” Their mother’s eyes became wistful and her gaze drifted away from her children. “Together, they made Eregion a wondrous place that fulfilled the hopes and dreams of the many different peoples that came to live there. A place of prosperity and peace – built in spite of ceaseless turmoil. Alas, they could not forestall its utter destruction.”

“Oh alas indeed,” Elladan scoffed. “Could anyone succeed in birthing a new kingdom with Sauron attending the nativity?” His mother did not respond to his sarcastic question instead returning her attention to Raendos.

“First of all, the Gate is the entrance into Durin’s kingdom, not Eregion. But secondly, your daernaneth and daeradar both did not believe that Narvi and Celebrimbor could make the doors work as proposed. They were obviously wrong – yet not wrong.” She laughed at her children’s confused faces.

“Oh really Nana, now you must tell us the tale!” insisted Arwen when Celebrian did not immediately continue with an explanation of her remark. “Daernaneth had to know Celebrimbor could do it!”

“Did you think he could, Nana ‘Rian?” asked Raendos.

“I was slightly younger than you, sell-nin, at the time the construction was begun. When much more grown, I would at times talk with Celebrimbor about his work. But at such a young age, I had no educated opinion to offer – unlike my adar and naneth.” She smiled, a fond twinkle in her eyes. “Personally, I thought my odhgwador could do absolutely anything. Except perhaps beat Ada at dice.”

Raendos giggled and poked Elladan in the ribs.

“You cannot beat him either. But, I did once,” she boasted.

“Raendos, he let you.”

“Did not! I asked him! Nana, you know!”

“Elladan, she won one game by pure chance. Now, both of you leave it.”

“What exactly did Narvi and Celebrimbor propose that seemed so impossible?” asked Elrohir. “A self-opening gate is not an unusual gimmick.”

“No,” replied Celebrian. “However, one of these dimensions had never been made before. The then King Durin, of course, wanted the utmost protection for his people. Especially since, unlike most dwarf-doors, this gate was to be made capable of being opened from the outside. Consider that if a common elf can not move something by his own strength, he can not move it by his voice. A dwarf can balance a stone upon hinges so to be easily moved with very little strength, but it still requires an actual push. Celebrimbor’s and Narvi’s goal was to make an impenetrable gate that an elf could open without any help, but could not also be opened by a powerful enemy. And, like most dwarf-doors, it would be hidden when closed. So, there had to be a way to locate it at need, but only permit sight and not entry.”

“I had always thought the doors were already there, being used by the dwarves, and Celebrimbor merely enchanted them,” admitted Elrohir. After having hesitated all the while, he finally sat down in what was considered Adar’s Chair. Although, his mother noticed, he did not raise his feet onto the hassock in front of it. Perhaps because he was worried he would seem to be mocking his father’s casual habit. Certainly not because he was ever worried about soiling the furniture with his muddy boots.

“At that time,” Celebrian continued, “there was no direct path from the inner mountains to the river, which would come to be called the Sîrannon. The dwarves were too suspicious of their western neighbors and with good cause. However, when the anarchy was quelled and the building of Ost-in-Edhil begun, Durin felt he and his lords could at last make a meaningful pact with Eregion’s rulers. The Gate was just one small part of that first pact. It was the entrance of a new tunnel which was to lead to a terminal within Khazad-dûm. A highway leading down into the City and deepening the river channel was also part of the works to done. The dwarves’ compensation for all this was a guarantee of free and safe travel on both the road and the river. But, Durin had to allow that the tunnel was part of the new route to be guarded by the elves and the Gate had to be made accessible by such.”

“Was that Celebrimbor’s demand or Daeradar’s?” asked Elladan with a knowing smirk.

“Your daeradar rightly reckoned two things: mutual trade and protection require trust and a swift means to pass through to and from Lórinand in case of war was necessary. Before my naneth and I moved to the City, Ada’s many passages through Moria to Lothlórien to visit us were never possible upon a moment’s notice. The west way in was kept very secret. Even with sending ahead, he would be kept waiting until one of the dwarf-lords deigned to escort him. Amdir was treated with less suspicion than Ada. Only Celebrimbor’s personal arrangement with Durin got your daeradar through without ever getting an axe in his back.” Celebrian’s sober answer subdued her son’s humor. “Eventually, Durin and Ada came to agreement on what concessions were needed from both realms.”

“But, why was he negotiating with the dwarves at all? That seems insane,” said Elladan.  “Daernaneth should have dealt with Durin.”

“Your daernaneth does make better friends with the Naugrim. However, she is a chatelaine, not a commander. Her ideal tactic is to challenge her foe to a duel. Go shopping with her, but never horse-trading.”

“Your advice comes too late,” Elrohir wearily interjected.

“Why did not Celebrimbor meet with Durin?” asked Arwen.

“Because the hîrdan and the aran were already good friends and it was an important friendship. Nothing damages a friendship quicker than greed. Although jealousy can cause deeper resentment. Durin needed to learn he could trust Ada’s word as well. Do not think it was because Celebrimbor gave up rule to my naneth and adar. He had powers of state. He was the appointed colonial ruler, after all. As such, he handled all communication with Gil-Galad and the King’s Council. But once Ada had come to his aid, he never stepped over into enforcement or protection again. That was entirely your daeradar’s responsibility.”

“In practice, they three would come together in council and usually delegate authority for an entire project to one person. Then, the other two would do what that person asked of them. Supposedly with little questioning. More often than not, Ada negotiated the treaties and then Naneth would implement them. Odhgwador made the things – all sorts of things – needed for trade. It was his coins that quickly became the money of the realm. Within a year of his mint’s first striking, without decree or edict, no other kind was acceptable payment in the City. Not only were they beautiful, with a lovely holly seal on one side, the other side was unique for each denomination and they had a standard weight and purity. People knew they could trust their worth. I especially liked the little gil-sad which was done in solid mithril; its star actually glittered. They always seemed like a child-sized coin to me. I had a special glass coin jar just for those. It was shaped like a fat-bellied rabbit, even had long, straight-up ears. I think it might still be somewhere in the house at Edhellond. What a strange thing to salvage from the palace ruins. For it should have been smashed when the upper-floors were burned in the siege.”

“So,” interrupted Elladan, “a new way was dug into the mountains and doors installed. But, they opened manually from the inside. What happened next?”

“A scaffold was constructed and tenting put up so Celebrimbor could do his work. Narvi was always at the site to aid and learn; make adjustments to the doors themselves. I went along with my parents when they visited to check on their progress. In the fifth year after the building of the doors was begun, in the spring. Celebrimbor had taken leave of the City for almost six months just to concentrate on the Gate and get it done.” Celebrian brightly smiled, cloudless and looking like the tender, young maiden she once was. “That was a grand outing for me. We traveled by both barge and sail far up the river then on horseback. At the lowest falls, Ada went hunting for the day and I snuck off to ride my pony alone in the woods, all by myself I thought. I was so thrilled and proud to know I could be all right on my own. Naneth was livid until Ada’s bowman blurted out that he had kept an eye on me the entire time. Then, I was the one who was angry at having my great adventure spoiled.”

“Nana, we were talking about the Gate,” complained Elladan.

“But when you thought you were alone, were you not afraid of bandits or panthers?” asked Raendos, as always in awe of her foster-mother’s exploits.

“Not really. I had learned to stay alert in strange places and nothing threatening appeared. I do not remember ever being more frightened – on a trip anyway – than on the first long journey of my life, going from Lothlórien to Ost-in-Edhil. I clung to whoever was watching me and many times refused to leave Naneth. It drove my nîni mad.”

“Please go on with what happened with the Gate, Nana,” begged Elrohir.

“Well, I remember that Celebrimbor had already changed once between angerthas and tengwar. He had tried Khuzdul and Quenya after it appeared that Sindarin did not work and had gone back to Sindarin. And he had edited the inscription down from the original long dedication to the fewest words necessary and stripped off all the elaborate tracings of the original design trying to determine where the problem lay. But, the doors would not open. He had models that worked perfectly, even a full-scale model in his workshop. On the third evening we were there, he and Narvi, Naneth and Ada began seriously talking through everything. They started arguing then yelling at each other.” Celebrian helplessly laughed at the memory. Her hand drew up to her nose as she came close to snorting. “Moria… Moria… Moria!” she said imitating her parents’ voices and Celebrimbor’s. “Poor Narvi kept correcting them – ‘Khazad-dûm!’ he’d say ‘Hadhodrond!’ – every single time one of them said Moria.” Her children laughed at her perfect dwarf-voice. “Naneth and Odhgwador switched over, but not Ada. Soon, he was saying it on purpose just to aggravate.”

“That was not very nice of him,” disapproved Raendos with a child’s naïve sanctimony.

“No, it was not,” agreed her foster-mother, shaking her head, barely able to contain her humor. Forcing her face into a prim expression, she said, “I know you would never be so impolite.”

“Wait!” cried Elladan, his face transformed with sudden realization. “Oh no… ” his own head shaking in smiling disbelief. “No, Nana! You’re got to be joking!”

“ ‘Twas no joke,” she snickered, then returned to feigning complete seriousness. “The Onodrim would warn you and they should know.” She wagged her finger at all of them. “Which is why I always caution you to watch your tongues.” Then, she burst into another laughing smile.

“What did Celebrimbor do when he realized the reason?” queried Elladan, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“Hold a moment! I do not understand,” Elrohir said with mounting frustration.

“Daeradar had given Khazad-dûm a name,” explained Arwen. “And the mountains knew it.”

“Rather, Celebrimbor knew it. But he had disregarded it,” corrected Elladan. “I cannot believe no one has ever noticed this before. That a name that was unknown until the Third Age was written down for all to see in the Second.”

“Oh!” cried Elrohir, himself now grinning. “Of course!” He eagerly leaned forward. “And I have an explanation for your question, muindor. Right off, who would dare to speak it except Lord Celeborn? Add to this that the Gate was kept open practically until the War, which emptied Hollin of inhabitants, and the dwarves remained allies with Lórien for sometime after that conflict. During peace, no one would see the inscription because the doors were open the whole time. Then when the doors were closed, there was no one around to read the words let alone reveal them. The still-trading neighbors continued to be polite until the last and worst trouble started. Three and a half millennia are enough time for most people to have forgotten what was never commonly known.”

“Gwador Elrohir, why did the dwarves start using it,” asked Raendos, “if it is a name they so much dislike?”

“Well, Nana has told us of hearing dwarf-speech in the streets of Ost-in-Edhil. We do not hear it even here now days. I think after being driven out of Moria, they went back to their secretive ways and once again stopped speaking Khuzdul when among other races. And the elvish name was then, of course, fitting.”

“So, Celebrimbor inscribed the doors with ‘Moria’ and they worked. Hurrah! How did Narvi react to it?” asked Elladan.

“How do you expect?” replied his mother, suppressing a smile. “Ever hear the expression ‘hopping mad’?” The image this brought to mind set even Arwen to laughing. “Ah, but there were no laughter that night. Not even from Ada.”

“Why?” they asked in chorus.

“I did not find out until much later. For I, no more than anyone else, was allowed to overhear too much of their conversations. At the official opening, everyone selected to learn the password was sworn to secrecy. Being a child, I was not included. Later at supper, I remember Naneth congratulated Ada for seeing another of his wise preparations completed. She told him he should be satisfied at least, for one day he would be using it just as anticipated. He replied ‘Never’. After that, the entire matter went away and was never spoken of again.”

“You said you were sworn to secrecy, so you were told the password later?” prompted Elrohir.

“When I was an adult and a newly appointed civil secretary for the Gwaith-i-Basdain. Naneth thought it was time I was told everything. Believe me when I tell you, Narvi and Celebrimbor and Durin got even with Ada the day the Gate was first opened. He never did go into Moria again.”

“And it was well that he stayed in Eregion while you and your naneth went through to Lorien.” Elrond stood just outside their cluster of chairs, arms crossed. With an accusatively raised eyebrow, he looked from one of his twin sons to the other. Suddenly, Elrohir jumped up.

“Adar! Please sir, forgive me. I allowed Elladan and I to become engrossed in Nana’s tale and forgot I was to bring us to the armory long before now.” His sincerity in apologizing was disarming. “I am sorry.”

“Go then, both of you, and give your apologies to Hir Hithend. I will catch up after I speak with your naneth.” Elladan rose then and both sons courteously took leave of the ladies.

As they passed their father on either side of him, he extended his arms and held them back with a hand over each ellon’s heart.

“Put it out of your minds, Peredhelionath. For my sake.” Moving his hands up to cup their chins, he kissed one then the other on the cheek as if they were still small children. Then, let them go.

“Lumdis is looking for you,” he said pointedly to Arwen. Blushing, she rose and took her leave also; receiving a kiss upon the brow from her father before she left.

Raendos, left holding the sketchbook on her lap, looked up at him with a nervous pout.

“Do I get a kiss too, Adar Elrond?” she asked, obviously hoping. Raendos’ growing confidence pleased Celebrian very much. She was proud of her fosterling’s progress in more than her studies. When first arrived, the shy child would never have thought to speak let alone to test her place as a daughter who was not born their daughter.

“Of course, sell-nin,” her foster-father replied with an affectionate smile. Stepping over to her, he stooped down. Covering her hands with his where she clutched the book, he kissed her brow. “And you are late for your afternoon lessons.”

“Oh Adar!” she whined. Elrond stood and moved out of her way so that she could slip down from the chair and give the book to Celebrian, who kissed her as well. Her long, loose hair danced around her as she jauntily traipsed out of the room.

Elrond would have stood in silent contemplation of the family moment – except the clock’s loud ticking would not let him. He never had liked the noisy thing. But, it actually belonged to his wife; a treasured souvenir. So he knew it would remain here forever to annoy him.

“I shall never see the point of keeping a clock if no one ever uses it,” he wryly commented.

“Do I get a kiss too?” Celebrian asked, pretending to be bashful about asking. Which she never was.

“No. You get a reprimand for an unfocused and rambling lecture instead of what should have been a short, straightforward lesson.” She laughed at his insincere sternness. He came over to her and knelt down on the floor to lean his arms on her knees.

“Ours sons are waiting upon you,” she reminded him.

“Am I in here?” He took hold of the sketchbook to remove it from her lap, but Celebrian pulled it back. They playfully tugged it between them for a moment, until Celebrian abruptly let go. Elrond fell back enough that she was able to get to her feet and start towards the door. Elrond swiftly came to his own feet. Tossing the book onto the vacated chair, he caught up with her and clasped her around the waist, halting her exit.

“Do I get a kiss too?” she repeated more firmly.

“Yes. But first,” he flamboyantly demanded, taking on the overwrought inflections of the villainous character found in any popular charade. “You will reveal to me the password!”

“Oh, save me!” she sarcastically begged with a roll of her eyes. Then lightly punched his shoulder; letting him know she could save herself if she chose to. Embracing, they laughed together and her husband did kiss her tenderly upon her lips.

“Now, will you tell me?” he asked, pressing his forehead to hers. His hand slid suggestively further down her back.

“Never,” she replied with anticipation. “No matter what you do.”

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Author Notes:

All elvish is in Sindarin unless otherwise indicated
underlined means I put it together myself – corrections and comments are welcome!

See the illustration of the West Gate in LOTR-FOTR:Chap 11, The Mines of Moria. 
The Sindarin text reads: Ennyn Durin Aran Moria:pedo mellon a minno. Im Narvi hain echant:Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin.

Moria – Black Pit or Black Chasm. Not at all what the halls of Khazad-dûm would have been like in the centuries before the dwarves delved too deep and awakened the Balrog. However, as Gandalf said, “There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world.” Frodo sensed a foul presence in the black pool long before he knew what was actually there.

Calma – lamp Orë – heart(spirit) Ando – gate 
Tengwar letters have names instead of labels and can be seen as an alphabet as much as a syllabary.

It is my personal opinion that Legolas’ statement about the trees depicted on the Gate, “The Tree of the High Elves”, is just another of the many incidents where the older manuscript was not revised to reflect other changes to the story or background. Or it could just be a perpetuated typo.

Êl i Nos Fëanor – Star of the House of Fëanor

Galadhad – the Two Trees; one of the days of the week is Orgaladhad, ‘Day of the Trees’; in “Unfinished Tales”, there is a reference to Celeborn made by Celebrimbor as ‘Celeborn of the Trees’; the full-elven Sindarin royals (as opposed to the half-elven Elweans) are associated with Telperion by virtue of their names and silver hair, Galadriel is associated with Laurelin and both Trees together by virtue of her golden hair

Longbeards – Durin’s clan

ithildin – Gandalf called it ‘starmoon’ – ithil(moon) tinu(star) – but I like ‘moonsparkle’

The “War” referred to here is the War of the Elves and Sauron in the Second Age which ravaged Eregion and lead to the foundation of Imladris.

Onodrim – Ents – you might recall what all Treebeard said to Merry and Pippin

Peredhelionath – sons of (Elrond the) Half-elven

gil-sad – star-spot

Gwaith-i-Basdain – Guild of the Bread-makers

naneth/nana – mother/mom

adar/ada – father/dad

daerydh – grandparents

daeradar/daernaneth – grandfather/grandmother

gwador/gwathel – brother/sister who is not a sibling

odhgwador/odhgwathel – uncle/auntie parent-brother/parent-sister who is not a sibling

gwadoriel/gwatheliel – neice brother-daughter/sister-daughter whose parent is not a sibling

muindor/muinthel – brother/sister who is a sibling

ellon/elleth – male/female elf

hir/hiril – master or lord(sir)/lady

brennileg – miss brennil (lady) eg (diminutive ending)

sell-nin – my daughter

hîn-nin – my children

hirdan – master smith

aran – king (also translates as ‘Lord’ for it means the ruler of a realm, not just royalty)

nîni – nanny a Sindarin form of nyéne, ‘she-goat’ in Quenya (and yes, the English word ‘nanny’ was indeed derived from ‘nanny goat’)