Disclaimer: Tolkien's the genius, not me.
"Promise you won't tell anyone?" Elwing asked, clutching the carefully wrapped package nervously. It was almost too large for her to hold.
"I have already promised a dozen times," Eärendil pointed out.
"Right, of course." Elwing gently unwrapped the package, and Eärendil's breath caught in his throat. Dozens of vibrantly colored gemstones surrounded the Silmaril, bright as a star in Elwing's hands, outshining the lamp on the table. It illuminated her as well, making her hair shine and eyes sparkle.
But its light made him nervous, too. So much had been lost for this jewel. What would Elwing sacrifice someday?