Gondolin, First Age of Middle Earth
Envandiel stood by the forge, pouring molten silver into a hand-carved mold with a practiced eye, while Métime stood opposite, hammer blows beating a stattacco rhythm on the keen blade in front of her.
Tundion tossed down a fresh pile of wood and glanced around surreptitiously — or at least he thought he did — drawing the attention of the two ellith, who both paused and gave him a suspicious look.
He grinned and pulled out a bottle from the satchel slung across his chest. The bottle was a rich amber color, filled with dark liquid. A beautifully inscribed label marked it as a hundred-year vintage, brought all the way from Lindon.
"Where did you get that?" Envandiel hissed, giving him an exasperated look.
His grin only widened as he moved closer to Métime and draped his free hand over her shoulders. She gave him a playful smack with her glove.
"Hiril, you must trust me better than that!" He winked at Envandiel. "I managed to secret away one bottle from the betrothal celebration."
Envandiel shook her head at him but smiled as she watched her two dearest friends. "You two shall have much joy together." She gave Tundion a crooked smile. "And I must confess that was good thinking, as I fear we all were too busy and surrounded by others to truly enjoy the food and drink."
"Then let us enjoy it now, in closer company!" He held up the bottle and gave them a mock-pout.
Envandiel rolled her eyes and sighed. The mold that she had filled had begun to set, and she could wait. Métime set aside her own tools, laughing as she pushed away Tundion’s arm so she could do so.
They followed him out of the forge and to the small garden by the near wall where they often spent time. Summer lilies were in full bloom now, and Métime plucked one and stuck it in her short brown hair. She grabbed Envandiel’s hand to turn her around and tucked a matching one into the long red locks.
Laughing, they sat on the grass and shared the wine, taking turns drinking from the bottle. The sun was bright overhead, and as they laughed and talked it sank behind the walls and gave way to the stars.
The two lovers shared the last drops of the wine as Envandiel hummed a song to Elbereth. Métime rose to her feet, pulling the others up by her hands and round and round in a dance in a moment of gleeful exuberance enhanced by the effects of the sweet wine.
The three danced and sang and laughed for hours until the sun began to turn the sky a dusty pink and they collapsed exhausted, dreaming pleasant dreams under warm sunlight.
