Estarfin let out a small exclamation of frustration as he examined the shining metal in the palm of his hand; another flawed attempt after a long day spent before the forge. The alloyed steel was beautiful, but it was still too soft, too liable to be harmed. The delicate inscribing chisels he had created for the task cut too deep, splitting the grain of the metal apart. He held it up to the light once more, wondering whether such a flaw mattered. He shook his head slightly, then tossed it carelessly back into the heart of the forge. Any imperfection could not be tolerated.
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