Book/Source: The Silmarillion
Disclaimer: The drabble belongs to me. The Sil belongs to Tolkien.
Author's Note: This is the "smith." Pirates may come later.
Firelight glistened on Curufin’s sweaty forehead. He brought the hammer down again, relishing his work. This blade would be his finest creation.
He paused to look more closely at the piece, then realized that he could see his own reflection. He looked almost like his father… the same coal-black hair, fathomless dark eyes, fine-featured face… a specimen of masculine beauty, nearly flawless.
Suddenly filled with rage, he drew back the hammer and brought it down in a glimmering arc. The metal rang beneath his fury, nearly shattering with each blow.
He beat it until the only reflection was fire.