Norliriel was ready to once more engage in her craft, the way one would be ready to embrace an old friend, familiar even after long separation, with quiet joy. She had ancient silver, the finest she could find. She had her tools, and a well-tended forge. All she needed now, was to devise in her mind the shape of what she would then form in metal.
Then, when Lilleduil had asked her for this, it had seemed simple - a ring for Fingolrin, made by her to match his carved-jewel swan medallion. But now?
She was not even sure if he still wore that swan, now that he was no longer a warrior of the Hammer - or of the Fountain. Instead, he had departed westward to the Havens, with no word of good-bye to her, or to Manadhlaer whom he had called sister, or even to Raolor.
She did not know why Fingolrin had chosen to leave in such a way, only that whatever had drawn him away had been stronger than any oath or bond of friendship. Yet, she believed with certainty that he would still accept that ring from Lilleduil. Love such as theirs was not diminished by separation, this she knew well.
Norliriel's thoughts turned to how she would fashion this ring. At other times, she had focused her fëa to sing strength and healing into the jewels she was shaping. This piece, as befitted its purpose, would be different. It would carry no enchantment except for Lilleduil's love, and her own well-wishes. Nonetheless, she would approach this work with all her attention.
Thus, she turned her thoughts to Fingolrin, so that she could conceive of a ring that would match him well. Fingolrin, who had taught her to wield a sword at need, who had comforted her, who had cared for her like a brother would. While she held such thoughts within her mind, the ring she would forge revealed its shape before her inner eye. She knew now what to do.
---
Later...
Cooled off and engraved, the ring still seemed to shine with a subtle inner fire. It was a simple silver band, broad enough to look strong, yet narrow enough to look elegant. The designs on it had the form of abstract swirls, evoking the memory of the curve of the wings of Fingolrin's jewel-swan, yet there were no distinct feather-like shapes. It was all but a hint, a trace of memory light as air.
The swirls then hinted at the shape of sea-waves, to finally dissolve and make way for an unmarked polished surface, smooth as glass. A free space, open like Fingolrin's future.
Norliriel gazed at the ring with contentment. Her work had been accomplished. Now to find Lilleduil and entrust it to her...
