[Mithalwen]

Gilthalion

The elf paid little heed to the music as he made his way deftly through the crowded common room focused in his task and his mind full of his own thoughts - long years of working metal, had made him broader and more strongly built than usual for an elf but still he moved with the easy grace of his people and most of those he passed did not notice him. He noticed one of them though. An elf sitting in the shadows near the kitchen door.

The elf was horribly maimed but it was the expression in his eyes that struck a chord in Gilthalion's mind. For though it was too evident that the other's suffering had been greater, Gilthalion in his own lesser way had felt the horror of Mordor. He had gone to war with his father and brother but had returned alone, burdened with anger, bitterness and guilt. Unable to cope he had withdrawn from the family that had remained to him, finding peace only in the hard physical labour of the forge. It was Amilya who had saved him, whose light had been strong enough to cast out the shadows from his soul if not his memory. A light passed into his eyes as he thought of his beloved wife distant for a while in body but ever close in spirit. So when his gaze met Lithmire's briefly it was filled not with pity but recognition. He knew better than to intrude unasked but acknowledged the other with a brief but solemn nod and passed on to ask at the kitchen as fine a meal as could be mustered from what remained.