Parnard

(After Another Day at the Beach | The Laurelin Archives by Parnard.)

Estarfin felt the brief resistance of cloth and flesh before the beautiful blade nearly bisected the dark figure. He kicked the almost-lifeless body from his sword, flicked the blade back, taking the misshapen head from the thing, then watched with fierce satisfaction as it slumped to the floor. Another wrong righted, another of their wicked race wiped clean from the spheres of Arda. He raised his crimson blade to the stars, a gesture of both reverence and defiance.

(To be read after The Music Lesson - Part 2 | The Laurelin Archives by Parnard)
 

I stepped out onto the narrow path directly in front of Gilastor. With swift management, Estarfin halted the mighty warhorse a few feet from me. He met my eyes with an expression that would have feared most folk. He was furious. 

I am far from perfect. I make mistakes, I misunderstand certain things, I am likely to do so again, despite my best efforts. But never, never would I intentionally hurt him in any manner.

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.