The Book of Short Tales by Lyra

B2MeM '16 - Caranthir defends the Naugrim

For different B2MeM '12 prompts, I started three separate stories in which Caranthir defended the achievements of the Dwarves against critical brothers. I never finished any of these stories and probably never will, so for this year's "Memories" theme, I finally condensed each of them into a drabble to make up a short series.
Touching the following BINGO prompts:
N33 (Economy: "Infrastructure" and Here we come a-caroling: "You might even say it glows");
G51 (Scientific Achievement: "Print")
G59 (Dwarves of the First Age: "Curufin receives Angrist")
Also sort of covers the 2009 prompt for March 17 (stereotypes).

Curufin is unimpressed with Caranthir's neighbours. Caranthir showcases some of their achievements to change his brother's mind.

Paving the way

"I really don't know how you put up with those bushy little faces," Curufin said, twirling his cup of mulled cider. "I passed a bunch of them on the road here. How ugly they are! And Yavanna knows what's living in those beards. They should never leave their mines."
Caranthir stared into his own cup, avoiding his brother's eyes. "You came here by the road, yes?" he said, his face burning bright.
Curufin frowned. "Of course. Didn't you listen?"
"Unfortunately, I did," said Caranthir, looking up. "If you came by the road, you shouldn't insult the people who created it."

Copyism

"Look at this," Caranthir said, handing Curufin a leaflet.
Curufin studied the unintelligible writing. "Am I supposed to be impressed by such uninspired penmanship?"
"No penmanship! That is the point." Caranthir produced further leaflets, exactly like the first.
Curufin was frowning still. "Consistently uninspired writing – so what?"
"It's no writing," Caranthir said triumphantly. "It's print! The Naucor engrave it on a metal plate in reverse, then ink it and stamp it onto paper. They can produce thousands of copies in a very short time."
Curufin shrugged. "They're clever little buggers, I admit. But I'm sure I could improve it."

Understatement

"Finally, to convince you that the Naucor deserve your respect and your business," Caranthir said, "here is a gift from them." He pulled a knife from its lacquered sheath.
Curufin raised an eyebrow. "I can make my own knives."
Caranthir took the knife to a chandelier. "Not like this. Behold!" He cut through the iron as though carving tender meat. The severed arm of the chandelier thudded down onto the table.
Frowning, Curufin took the knife. He tested its balance, swished it through the air, searched for flaws in the tightly folded steel.
At last, he acknowledged, "Not too bad."