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Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
The Wager
Nerdanel was deep in thought deciding which commission to accept as she opened the door to her workshop's entryway. She stopped short, almost falling over the elf drying the floor.
“Carnistir? What are you doing?”
Jumping to his feet, he grabbed her hands to steady her. “I lost a bet with Curufinwë.”
“Oh?”
She pierced him with her 'look' - honed through years shared with Fëanáro, then turned around slowly. Laurelin's light reflected from each gleaming cloak hook and the polished slate floor.
She shook her head and continued walking into the studio muttering, “That must have been some wager.”
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