3. The Jewelwright's wife
He speaks on and on with fever-bright words and trembling hands. The Silmarilli shine through his eyes, upon his lips, upon his white cheeks and his high forehead ; their radiance breaks through his hands and coats his nails. She listens in silence and watches his face, as her fey lover speaks of beauty.
Then she takes his hand in hers, and though they burn, his slender fingers. Her own close around the gold ring at his hand.
'You once said', she says quietly, 'that in your eyes, no jewel made by you would be more beautiful than this.'
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