(Video)

[handofsilver]

(Oh how he wishes he could simply write this instead of speaking to the populace directly. But his conscience will not allow him to take the easy way out.)

I wish to apologize profusely for my behavior. (He will not name anyone specifically - and further embarrass them - but his dark head is hanging dejectedly.)

For those who desired an Elvish sword, I have made five. You are welcome to come by the Forge to test them for yourself. I am certain you will not damage them.

(Because he made them and his works last.)

Comments

[hotspurred]

[Henry lifts his chin.]

I do not shy from a challenge. Simply let me know when you are ready.

[handofsilver]

Give me another hour and I will be prepared. (He is in much better spirits, alcohol or not.) Shall I meet you at the Headquarters?

[hotspurred]

[Henry nods in answer.]

All right. 'Til then.

(Action?)

[handofsilver]

(Celebrimbor bows his head in answer and cuts the contact. He finishes some lesser projects in the Forge and then cleans himself up. When he is wearing a clean shirt and his hair is newly brushed and braided, he travels to the Headquarters for the Guards and searches for his friend.)

action!

[hotspurred]

[Henry uses the time to go home, remove his armour and tend to it — he knows better than to go drinking wearing it. After he has changed out of the under layers and into some scavenged clothes, he returns to HQ and gets on with some paperwork until Celebrimbor shows up.

When he spots the elf, Henry puts away his work and gets to his feet, pushing in his chair.]

Let us not dally here. The bar awaits.

[He says with a grin as he joins Celebrimbor.]

action!

[handofsilver]

(The tension he carries with him - so like Henry's armor - dissipates at the sight of the other. A smile blooms tentatively on his features, reaching up to his silver eyes.)

Certainly not. (He glances at the table despite his friend's words.) Is all well?

[hotspurred]

[And such striking eyes they are — like metal glinting under the sun, absurdly fitting for a smith.]

Headquarters is rebuilt, everyone seems mostly if not recovered from last month, and Nick has finally mended his crippled leg. Things could not be more well by this cavern's standards.

[Henry takes the lead, heading for the door which he then holds open.]

I call those good reasons to raise a cup.

[handofsilver]

(He is the grandson of the greatest Smith of Arda. Some might argue he has even surpassed him, though Celebrimbor will not boast.)

If he needs tips on how to handle a staff or a cane, I can give him some pointers. (He follows Henry, smiling at the Man's exuberance.)

I say so. What is your favorite drink?

[hotspurred]

Wine.

[Henry answers, picking his way down the street. The easiest route from HQ to the bar is past the orchard and mopeds then across the second bridge.]

Of the finer sorts. As the son of an Earl I am no stranger to certain luxuries. What of you?

[handofsilver]

I commend your palate. (If he is to drink at all, he prefers a good Elvish wine, though the vintages of Men are not bad.) Ah likewise. We Elves like our wines and we have plenty of time to let them mature.

(The Elf that bottled the wine can enjoy it a century or more later.)