(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]

[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.)