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A  drabble on the theme of elves and dwarves. Celebrimbor/Narvi.

It is in the first giddy decades of their friendship that Narvi compares him to mithril, and then, with more consideration, to ithildin. Celebrimbor laughs, amused and flattered in equal measure: Narvi to him is stone in sunlight, the golden light of autumn on a drift of copper leaves. By the time they have known each other a century, the comparisons are fond familiar things. Narvi wears a beard-ring of Elven make, ruddy gold shaped like a pair of twisting leaves, and Celebrimbor keeps his notes in a folio of leather dyed black as his hair, whose cover blazes into glittering silver only in moonlight. They each think in terms of what they value, and what they have learned to treasure.

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Ah lovely! I do love your Celebrimbor!

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