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Fired. Red-hot coals purify my flesh, burning away traces of tainted blood. Beaten. Heavy hammer-strokes meld my broken bones. Folded. My spine stiffens, fusing strength upon strength. Again and again do I suffer this handling, until... Quenched. I hiss at the shocking chill, tightening my sinews. Polished. Runes of protection adorn my burnished skin. Sharpened. Keen is my bite. By my maker's skill am I hardened on the outside, flexible within — reflecting the radiance of Anar, the resilience of Isil. After an Age of shame, I am once more fit to serve.
Anar and Isil are the Quenya names for the Sun and the Moon; the name of Elendil's sword, Narsil, is a combination of the roots of these two words. Renewed shall be blade that was broken,I have recently become fascinated by the process of Japanese sword-making. Though that process differs from making a straight sword, I derived much inspiration for this drabble from step-by-step pictures of a true master making a samurai sword here. (The Japanese sword visual glossary is also a helpful reference.) For Imhiriel's birthday, January 2008.
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