Ost-in-Edhil, Second Age of Middle Earth
Métime grabbed Envandiel’s arm, yanking her attention from the delicate wires on the bench in front of her. She yelped, nearly snapping the strand of fine metal.
"What in Ea, Métime?" She demanded, looking up at her friend’s dancing blue eyes.
"Hush!" Métime hisses. "The Lord Celebrimbor is coming this way!"
Envandiel rolls her eyes. "You know you are older than he and plenty skilled yourself."
"But he is one of the greatest smiths of our people!"
"Métime… you do realize that means little, given the others that have been called such?"
The other elleth’s laugh is clear and bright. "You are too gloomy, sometimes." She suddenly clutches Envandiel’s arm tighter. "He’s coming closer!"
The Lord Celebrimbor passed the bench with a nod and warm smile, and Envandiel returned a slightly more formal nod, while Métime nearly fell off the table with a half-bow.
As soon as he was out of earshot, the two elleths exchanged a glance and began to giggle, then laugh heartily.
At that moment, Tundion entered and dropped a pile of wood next to the forges. "Now, Hirils, my face isn’t that funny!"
Métime hopped off the table and embraced him, laughing loudly. She linked her arm through his and dragged Envandiel up with her other hand. Envandiel got to her feet with mock reluctance, still laughing.
"Let’s go find something to eat, you two do nothing but work!" Métime linked her arm through Envandiel’s and pulled both the other Elves towards the door of the foundry.
Arm in arm, the three friends walked out, laughing.
