Character: Estel and Cirdan
Source: Pre-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s Middle-earth and all who dwell there, Kortirion’s only borrowed them.
A touch late for 'violet', and it may only make sense if you read the first one, 'red'.
The westering sun painted trailing violet clouds with vivid pinks, against gilded skies reflected in the gleaming ocean. Estel walked the beach with the Seamaster, an evening habit they both enjoyed, for Cirdan had taken Rivendell’s foster-son into his household. He taught Estel to read the sky, judge the waters and now... to comb the strand.
“Here...” Cirdan held a lumpy pebble aloft – it glowed, translucent, golden. “Sea Amber, Gold of the North... Long ago I had a knife-handle made, but I... lost it...”
Estel suddenly felt warmth at his side; his hand went to his dagger.
“An amber hilt...?”
Estel fumbled the blade free, held it out.
Cirdan smiled, glanced, looked more closely... ‘...could it be?’
“Where did you get this?”
“In the Old Forest – I thought it a gift, but now... perhaps, perhaps it was meant to return?”
“Gift? In the... Aaahh... Ben-arda. You met the Eldest?”
“No, lord – he welcomed me with violet wine, I don’t know if I heard his voice or dreamt it. And in the morning....”
“He left my coming-of-age knife. Ages have past, and it returns...”
Cirdan slowly reached for it, slitting away the worn leather binding hiding the gold within.