Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine. No harm meant, no profit gained.
What had possessed the Elves to color it so?
Was it their wrath at the ‘gift’ of mortality, a small cruelty betraying their perfection?
The color had once meant life to him. Cobalt bottles streaming sunlight on the sill, mounts veiled in twilight's smoky haze, the perfection of a clear winter sky… the color of Bilbo’s pencil as he ‘improved’ Frodo’s writing. (Another weapon of sorts, so sharp he fancied cutting his thumb on the comments.)
Yes, the color had once meant life. Now it brought only fear.
Death had become a shimmer of blue on a delicate elven blade.