Maker's Mark by StarSpray

maker's mark

Beside the waters of Esgalduin, Daeron sat with Beleg, whose large hands carefully guided his small ones, gripping a small knife and a piece of wood destined to become a flute. “The holes must be placed just so,” Beleg said, “so each note is clear. See?” It was slow work, and delicate, but Daeron bit his lip and focused all of his thought on the task. 

He found that carving something lovely out of a plain stick of wood was almost as wonderful as making music. The long hours of effort and the nicked fingers were more than worth it. 

.

“Beleg, look!” Daeron presented his newest flute to his old teacher, newly returned from a journey with Mablung past the northern marches of Neldoreth, who took it and turned it over in his long fingers. “It is better than any I have made before.”

“What are these markings?” Beleg asked, pointing to the Cirth delicately carved along the bottom. 

“My writing,” said Daeron. “I sung power into each rune as I carved it to sweeten and clarify the notes.” 

Beleg played a short tune, and laughed in delight. “I think the student has surpassed the master! This is marvelous, Daeron!”