Author's Note:
You may have missed six updates before this.
Elrond
He leaned back in his chair, his daughter playing happily on his chair. Arwen had invented a game, where she wove her blue ribbon through the fingers of his both hands and drew them shut. The child then erupted into giggles and pulled free her ribbon. Then she began again.
He marvelled the use of his hands, and counted them a blessing. He used them for menial tasks, like carrying scrolls in his library or washing his own dishes when he was on a journey. And then he used them for warfare, or for treating the sick and injured. His hands told them a story of their own. They were slim and long, elegant as a healer's are. But his knuckles were hard and callused from his years wielding both sword and spear.
To his child, however, his hands were merely an instrument for her play.
Arwen shrieked in surprised delight as Elrond pulled his hands free from her ribbon. He enveloped his child in his arms, one hand supporting her legs and the other tickling her. Arwen was helpless with her laughter.
"Come, little one," Elrond said after bestowing a kiss on the top of her head. "Let us see what mother is up to."
Author's Note:
I am open for suggestions.
*wears a motorbike helmet reinforced with mithril and brandishes a fishing net*
Lay it on me!
