Speak Again

fanfiction by Wild Iris


The knife's silver-shod hilt is old Dale-work, and after the custom of Men, it has two sockets to receive gems as trophies of victory. These there has been no opportunity to fill. But what of it, should the lords in Imladris observe it? Would they mistake this for the weapon of an untried youth? It has been well employed since the winter I girded it on him. We are Wood-elves, and our foes do not carry treasure. We are Grey-elves, and our house has never gone to war for jewels, nor will it ever. We learned that vanity long past.