All That Was Not Lost to the Fire by Isilme_among_the_stars  

Bone Needle

On the shores of Lake Mithrim, Celegorm supports Maedhros’s recovery in his own way.

“So much is crafted from death,” Celegorm says, tossing a strip of bone in my direction, “waste not.”

This, he learned from Oromë: carving utility from macabre vestiges like me.

The shaping stone pressed into my palm to quell a skeptical glare leaves no room for refusal.

“What do you want?” I concede.

“A trade,” he proposes, “a needle for a one-handed tool.”

I start scraping. My still-weak hand shakes less when it is done.

Celegorm threads it and fashions a leather case for the tiny flute carved with the sun before handing it over.

“Bring it when we hunt.”

Chapter End Notes

For those curious, this is the kind of flute that I was imagining Celegorm to have made, the likes of which may have been used for the purposes of hunting birds in ancient times:
https://www.miamiherald.com/news/nation-world/world/article276324076.html