[Child of the 7th Age]

It was then that Lindir stepped in front of the Smith. For, though his legs were shackled by fetters, he could still limp forward a few inches. His eyes stared vacantly into the distance, seemingly unable to focus. In his hand was an empty wine cup. His fingers uncurled from its stem, and the cup rolled harmlessly onto the ground, making a loud clatter that cut through the silence.

Reaching out towards the Smith with his arm extended to the full extent that the chains would allow, Lindir earnestly intoned, "Master, it is you who succored the Diviner and gave her what peace she had on this windswept isle? I am greatly in your debt. I beg pardon for the words I spoke before. You were always the great teacher, and I naught but a humble pupil who had much to learn. So shall it be again!"

"Free me from these chains, and I will aid you. None of these other Elves is gifted in the crafting of objects. But I have forgotten no lesson you have taught. Indeed, within the walls of Eregion, I have learned many new things that I wish to share with you. For Celimbrimbor and Gorthaur taught me how to shape amazing objects, and every lesson that I received from them is engraved upon my heart. Let me share those secrets with you, for only a smith of your talents could do them justice."

"Please, Master," Lindir implored. "Take away my chains that I may do your bidding."

Lindir made an awkward attempt to fall to his knees in supplication, but was held in check by the chains. His awkward thrashing thrust him to the ground. Lindir's face was still turned directly towards the Smith, his eyes blank and staring, yet his face filled with anticipation.