KEY: And the Password is...

SUMMARY: Celebrimbor and Narvi discuss the West-Gate of Khazad-dûm. Takes place soon after the founding of Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion (S.A. 700).

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"Hmm..." Narvi of Khazad-dûm said, stroking his reddish-brown beard, already beginning to be streaked with white, his bright eyes under bushy eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"Hmm what?" Celebrimbor asked in amusement. He gave his friend a sideways glance as he placed a paperweight made from a nugget of gold on the corner of the vellum sheet showing his design of the West-gate for the Dwarf city that he and Narvi were crafting.

The Dwarf glanced up at the Elf. "‘Pedo mellon a minno’. A bit ambiguous."

Celebrimbor shrugged, his dark hair flowing, braidless except for the single back braid of his House. The ellon had never really been a warrior, at least not intentionally, Narvi knew. A metalsmith and crafter of jewels was his friend and the only battles Celebrimbor fought these days were with the ruling council of Ost-in-Edhil and with his cousin Galadriel. Being the head of the Gwaith-i-Mírdan, which had grown powerful and influential in its own right, brought its own headaches, Narvi thought, and he was glad he was just a humble carver of stone.

"We don’t wish to make it too obvious, do we?" Celebrimbor replied. "After all, your enemies shouldn’t have an easy job of entering Khazad-dûm."

"True," Narvi allowed, then gave his longtime friend a wicked look. "In that case, we ought to carve these words in Cirth and in the language of the Khazad. We wouldn’t want just any Elf wandering in, would we?"

Celebrimbor threw back his head and laughed. "No indeed," he said, giving Narvi a fond look. Their friendship, unlikely from the beginning, when the Dwarves had offered to help the Noldor build their city, had blossomed and grown over the years. Narvi had been a young apprentice then, just learning his craft, and had an openness about him that warmed Celebrimbor. The Elf had taken upon himself to teach the Dwarf something of Sindarin and, in turn, Narvi had given him lessons in some of the more colorful Dwarvish curses.

"Well, while I don’t understand all the intricacies of your language," Narvi said, "I do know that ‘mellon’ should actually be ‘vellon’."

"Ah... but that is the key, don’t you see?" Celebrimbor said, smiling. "If someone were to say ‘vellon’ the door would not open. They need to say ‘mellon’."

"Why don’t you just have "Pedo i-beth mellon’ then?" Narvi asked. "Why make it so ambiguous?"

"Hah!" Celebrimbor exclaimed, giving his friend a mock scowl. "This from one whose people thrive on secrecy. I would think you would enjoy the... jest."

"Jest?" Narvi asked, both eyebrows going up.

Celebrimbor smiled. "Well, don’t you think it would be a fine jest if someone came to the door when it was closed and in reading these words walked away in sorrow believing that he needs a password to enter, not realizing that it is right there before his eyes, having misread these words? I can just imagine you sitting behind the door sniggering in your beard at that."

"I suppose," Narvi said with feigned reluctance.

"Besides, those who are indeed friends would already know the password," Celebrimbor suggested.

"And yet," Narvi said, "I am thinking how such knowledge can be lost over time. A day might come when none live who remember the key just when it is most needed."

"Elves will be here," Celebrimbor said somewhat dismissively. "They will remember. I will remember."

"Assuming you are still here, my friend, even after I have gone to the Halls of my Fathers," Narvi retorted. "The fortunes of the Elves could well turn against them. It has happened before, it can happen again."

To that Celebrimbor had no answer. He stared moodily at the drawing he had made. When Narvi had first approached him, asking his help when King Durin had decided he wanted the West-Gate remade and had ordered Narvi to see it done, he had only agreed out of friendship to draw up plans for its design, but as he began to think on it, his excitement over the project grew and he had thought long and hard how best to highlight the password without making it obvious. Now, he felt cheated, his hard work unappreciated by the one person whose opinions mattered to him.

He sighed. "I suppose I could go back and think of another design...."

Narvi snorted. "Nonsense! I think it’s a fine design and Durin will approve."

Celebrimbor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at the Dwarf, wondering when the hammer would fall, as the Dwarves liked to say. "You just said you didn’t like it."

Now Narvi’s eyes glinted with affront. "I never said that. I said these words were ambiguous," tapping the vellum with a stubby finger. "If anything, I don’t think they’re ambiguous enough."

"What?" Celebrimbor demanded. "Just how much more ambiguous do you want it?"

"Oh, I don’t know," Narvi said, feigning disinterest. "How about ‘Pedo i-bethirith mellon a minno’? That should make it even more ambiguous, don’t you think?"

The Elf rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Well, for one thing, that would make it too long and there’s not enough space for another word. As it is, I had to forego using the correct Sindarin name of your fair kingdom and settle for ‘Moria’, insulting as it is."

Narvi nodded, not at all offended. "Well, I know some of the Elves of Eregion are less than polite about it, but then, some of my friends call your city, well, I suppose the best translation would be ‘Gobel-i-Thais’". He gave his friend a sly look.

Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow and then a slow smile spread across his face at the irony of the Dwarf’s words. "It is probably a truer description of Ost-in-Edhil than Moria is of Khazad-dûm."

"Perhaps," Narvi said, giving the Elf his own wry smile. "After all, life has never been the same for me since you darkened my doorstep. You’ve been nothing but trouble with your flighty ways."

Celebrimbor laughed, the sound of it like bells ringing through the halls of the Dwarf-city. "But admit it, mellon nîn, at least you cannot claim your life is boring."

"I suppose," the Dwarf averred, "though sometimes boring sounds good to me."

"But only sometimes," Celebrimbor said, looking uncertain, as if he was not sure if Narvi was being serious and wondered if his friendship with the Dwarf was only one-sided.

"Yes, friend Celebrimbor," Narvi answered with a warm smile, "only sometimes. When I think back to before we met, I realize that my life was too constricted, too narrow. Since meeting you, my vistas have widened. For that, I thank you." And the Dwarf gave him a profound bow, one usually reserved for King Durin.

Celebrimbor was touched and he smiled shyly. "I can say the same, friend Narvi. Your enthusiasm and love of life have often lightened my own burdens and troubles, and for that I thank you." He gave Narvi a bow of his own, one that he would only give to the High King in Lindon.

The two friends smiled at one another. Then, Narvi poked a finger at the design. "As I’m the one carving this, though, I think my name should come first."

"But ‘calma’ comes before ‘órë’," Celebrimbor protested.

"But it’s my door and my people’s door, not yours," Narvi retorted.

Celebrimbor stared at the Dwarf for a moment, then nodded. "You are correct, Narvi," he said rather stiffly. "I will make the necessary changes."

Narvi merely nodded, keeping his face expressionless, though inside he was somewhat saddened. He’d been looking forward to a good war of words with his friend. He saw the look of confused hurt in the Elf’s eyes and decided to change the subject. "It is a good design, my friend," he said softly, "better than I could hope for. Durin will be pleased, as I said. He had to fight his councillors who did not want an Elf designing our door."

Celebrimbor gave him a startled look. "Truly?"

Narvi nodded. "Durin has great respect for the Elves and for you personally," he said. "I was very glad when he appointed me to carve the door. I told him I would not do it unless you helped me with the design."

"Thank you," Celebrimbor said shyly. "I confess when you first approached me with the idea, I was reluctant to take on the project, for I have many others that hold my interest more. Yet, I soon found I was enjoying the challenge." He gave Narvi a worried look. "Are you sure Durin will approve?"

"Why don’t we go and find out?" Narvi said with a smile, removing the paperweights from the vellum and rolling it up. He handed it to the Elf.

Celebrimbor nodded. "By all means, let us go."

Together the two friends exited the chamber in search of the King of Khazad-dûm to show him his new door.

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All words are Sindarin.

Ellon: Male Elf.

Pedo mellon a minno: 'Speak/Say friend and enter'.

Gwaith-i-Mírdan: Brotherhood/Guild of Jewelsmiths.

Pedo i-beth mellon: 'Speak/Say the word friend'.

Mellon nîn: My friend.

Pedo i-bethirith mellon a minno: 'Speak/Say the password friend and enter'. Pethirith, literally ‘watchword’, from peth ‘word’ + tirith ‘watch’. ‘Watchword’ is a synonym for ‘password’.

Gobel-i-Thais: ‘Town of (those who are) Trouble’.

Notes:

1. The correct Sindarin name for Khazad-dûm is Hadhadrond, literally ‘Dwarf-cave’. Moria means ‘Black Pit’. The name was not adopted until Khazad-dûm was abandoned to the balrog in T.A. 1980. This is my take on why the West-gate has ‘Moria’ some 4,700 years before Khazad-dûm was renamed.

2. ‘Calma’ comes before ‘órë’: Each of the tengwar had a name in Quenya and these names were used even when referring to a different writing system, such as Beleriandic Sindarin, which is found on the West-Gate. Celebrimbor’s name begins with the tengwa called ‘calma’ (No. 3) while in the Beleriandic Sindarin mode, Narvi’s name begins with the tengwa called ‘órë’ (No. 21) which, in Sindarin, was used for the simple nasal ‘n’ rather than No. 17 ‘númen’ which was used for the long nasal ‘nn’.