[Amanaduial the archer]

Narisiel looked up at Maegisil, surprised and half-smiling, as if expecting him to be grinning back. But when she saw the other elf’s solemn expression, the amusement faded from her own as she looked away, her fingers tracing the engravings she had started on Leneslath’s sword blade. “You…you shouldn’t,” she replied softly, her pale face looking suddenly more wearied even in the warm light cast from the forge. How can he know of what price she fear I may pay for my craft…how dangerous those rings could be in the wrong hands… But her melancholia only seemed to last a moment, for, closing her eyes, she sighed gently and then sniffed suddenly, blinking a few times, and glanced shrewdly back up at the king’s counsellor. “My apologies, Maegisil, it has been a long day – I have several commissions at the moment that have pressing deadlines…”

“Oh, well if you do not have time, do not worry about it–” Maegisil replied hurriedly, turning away, but the elvensmith shook her head hastily, reaching for his arm and interrupting, “No, I…I did not mean that – my commitments are not so that I could not fit another in, depending on its nature. Although I do warn you,” she added with a smile. “If you wish me to make yet another blade, I shall strongly resist the urge to scream.”

The older elf smiled back gladly, shaking his head. “Then do not fear! No, I intended to commission your skills for something which I believe is an area of your particular expertise, or so I gather from my Lord Celebrimbor.”

There is not a craftsman alive who does not appreciate sincere flattery from those who know what they are talking about: Narisiel smiled, blushing slightly, and cocked her head to one side questioningly. “Oh ho, really? And what would this be then, if not weaponry?”

“Jewellery.”

The simple word could not have startled the elvensmith more, and she actually visibly flinched at it, suddenly firing up with the anger that she had been noted for in her younger days. How could he know what she had been thinking of just moments before? Jewellery, yes, that had been her expertise – but why did Maegisil ask about it now? It seemed unusual to make such a frivolous commision, to be sure, when war seemed imminent – unless it was not as innocent as it seemed, for had the other not just mentioned his ‘jealously’ of Narisiel?! The thoughts swelled through the elf’s mind on a wave of paranoia and she gave Maegisil a very straight, fierce look. “Why do you say that?” she replied quietly.

The other seemed taken aback at Narisiel’s sudden fierceness and frowned, but stood his ground. “Because you were one of those who helped Lord Celebrimbor with the forging of the rings,” he replied levelly. “But also because I know, as any other in the city, that you are one of the foremost jewelsmiths in Ost-in-Edhil.” He looked coldly at her, then nodded stiffly. “Good day to you, Narisiel.”

“Wait. Please.” This time she did not reach out for his arm and as Maegisil turned back, he saw the smith wipe her eyes wearily with her fingers, smoothing them back across high cheekbones to rest on the sides of her face then rested them with the fingertips meeting in a steeple between her eyes, almost as if she was praying. Those dark, sharp eyes regarded Maegisil pensively, then she sighed and let her arms hang down by her sides, shaking her head and looking away once more. “I am sorry, again, Maegisil. I…well, I cannot pretend the rings have not been on my mind of late.” Looking up, her expression and voice softened to an almost motherly expression of concern. “How is Lord Celebrimbor?”

“Have you not seen him recently?”

Narisiel shook her head, turning away towards a tall, locked cupboard, fumbling on her belt for the right key. “There are certain worries on my mind that have prevented me from seeking out my Lord in recent times, although I know I must talk to him,” she replied, finding the correct key. Raising an eyebrow, she looked back over her shoulder at the other elf. “And I am not talking about commissions,” she added quietly. The latter nodded, understanding. “The rings.”

“The rings,” Narisiel repeated meaningfully. Twisting the key deftly in the lock, then in another two which were more surreptitiously and cleverly placed on the hinges, the craftswoman slowly pulled open the doors, then paused when barely a crack was visible. Smiling mischievously, she inclined her head, signalling that Maegisil should come forward, then her face became serious once more. “I cannot muse on those particular…objects…for too long, Maegisil, or I would be sure to go mad, to become obsessed with them – as any who had seen their power is at risk of doing. Please don’t ask me about them,” she continued hastily as the other seemed about to speak. “Please.” Then her smile resumed its place on her pretty features, both mischievous and strangely fond at the same time as she returned her gaze to the cupboard and began to open it slowly. “I would prefer to talk about this particular piece of jewellery you wished me to make. I presume it is a gift?”

“For my wife,” Maegisil replied, nodding. Narisiel nodded in turn, as if satisfied. “I thought it would be.”

“And why is that?” This time Maegisil seemed almost edgy. Narisiel glanced sharply at him, but did not reply, simply contenting herself with shaking her head, then swung open the cupboard doors. Maegisil could not contain a slight gasp and Narisiel smiled proudly, her eyes glittering as the other ran his eyes over the jewels that were displayed there. “Welcome to my little box of tricks.”