Work Text:
his fingers are beautiful.
dexterous and nimble, they dance through air
they leave trails of gold, silver, adamant
which almost, nearly, catch the light
trapping just
a single fragment of ether
a kind he hasn't seen since he first walked with form.
his mind, too, is quick.
but his hands are malleable, cool.
even in twilight, under waning flame
weaving new forms
of old magic lost to sea and time
a future so bright, clear
wrought from earth and fire, fëa and blood.
he taught his apprentice too well
or not well enough
five thousand years is a long time.