Celebrimbor [Tyelperinquar] : last of the House of Fëanor, lord of the elves of Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion, the head of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, a guild of elven craftsmen and friend of the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm.
Co-maker of the Doors of Durin and forger of the Three Rings of Power.
If a drink is what it takes to kill the butterflies you gave me,
Then then I’ll make my home in a winery.
If getting high is what it takes to to erase our memories,
Then Mary Jane is my new best friend.
And if nicotine replaces my addiction to you,
Then I’ll kiss my lungs goodbye.
“Is this all you want?” Sam asked bitterly. “A good time?” “You’re one to talk!” “I like a good time. But not all the time.” He held her gaze. Evie blushed. “If you came here just to get a rise out of me, mission accomplished. You can scram.” “Your friends are counting on you.” “Their mistake,” Evie whispered. “You want me to go back to that museum? To talk about ghosts? You weren’t there in that house with that… that thing. You don’t know how it was!” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she spat out the words. “Ask Jericho. He knows. He understands what it was like.” She wanted to wound now, and Sam’s flinch registered as one more sin she’d hate herself for come morning, but now that her tongue was loose, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can see those… hideous beasts coming out of the burning walls. I hear Naughty John telling me—warning me—about my own brother! He knew about James, Sam. When I stand still, I see all of it. So I don’t stand still, and I certainly don’t go looking for more. And every night before bed, I pray for those pictures to go out of my head. When the prayers don’t work, I ask the gin to do it.” Evie could feel a headache threatening. She’d let Sam lead her to this. That was her mistake. “I’m sorry I’m not Jericho,” Sam said coolly. “I’m sorry for everything,” Evie mumbled. “That include last night?” Evie didn’t answer. With her smudged eyes and her dainty red Cupid’s bow lips, Evie reminded Sam of a sparkling party favor on the cusp of New Year’s, just this side of discarded. The comment about Jericho had hurt. Badly. He tried to swallow it down. “Evie,” he said, taking gentle hold of her hand. “The party can’t go on forever.” Evie looked up at Sam, defiant but slightly pleading, too. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Why not?”
“The first day I worked in the picture comedy we were discussing the action. ‘Shall I fall?’ I asked innocently. 'If it comes natural,’ they answered. They threw a safe or something at me and it came natural to fall all right! But they didn’t know what a nice little playmate they’d acquired. When a fight was staged that afternoon I cleaned out the bunch. After that we all got on beautifully together.”