Chapter Twenty-Three
Taking Charge
Daroandir’s hammer chimed against the thick, silver metal. Iadrawyn watched him as he worked, his lean muscles bunching and sweat dripping from his brow.
This time, there would be no mistakes. The vessel they were creating to contain the Quenya was a combination of Daroandir’s smith skill and her tentative channeling of the smallest wisp of the Quenya’s power. It took all her focus and energy to reach across the distance to the dark lands, where it was being held.
They had created two discards already. This was the third attempt. She hoped it would be the last. Each time they tried this, it left her weak and useless for days afterward. No one else could take her place. No other elf could even sense the Quenya. Only her long hours of communing allowed
