treading water | halbrand & isildur [on hold]

6 | bragging rights

YOU CANNOT TELL ME YOU DO NOT HAVE SELFISH INTENTIONS IN WANTING MY SON ON A SHIP WITH YOU.

All of Númenor was scrambling and trying to prepare for the upcoming journey to Middle-Earth. They weren't exactly prepared for a war, meaning everyone was working overtime to ensure there were enough supplies, weapons, and armor for both the humans and the horses that would be taken with them.

Galadriel and Nimriel were surprisingly busy as well, helping to oversee battle strategy plans and helping out anyone that was overwhelmed — and a lot of the Númenoreans were overwhelmed. There wasn't any more time for exploring the island or getting to know the locals unless you counted the soldiers they met while preparing to leave.

They'd seen very little of Halbrand in the last few days. He was getting plenty of use with his new Guild Crest, working overtime in one of the many forges that were making weapons as fast as they could, suddenly having to arm five hundred soldiers. Even now, two days before the ships were to leave and most of the kingdom was sleeping, he was working tirelessly to make swords and daggers.

That was where Nimriel found him, working alone in the forge with only the red fire in the furnace providing him light. She was silent for a moment, watching as he hammered away at the blade of a dagger, the metal glowing a bright yellow color from the temperature. All she could hear was the rhythmic clang that followed each hit against the metal.

Of all the things she should've been thinking about her friend, it shouldn't have been about how handsome he was. Halbrand's hair was pulled back out of his face, and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and grime from working so hard. Nimriel swallowed thickly as she eyed his bare, muscular forearms that were shown off from his rolled-up sleeves.

It was embarrassing how she hardly noticed when he stopped hammering at the blade.

"What are you doing out so late, Princess?" Halbrand asked while moving the dagger to a different anvil that had several tools he could use to bevel the edges.

Nim startled a bit and her eyes quickly snapped from his form that she was so clearly admiring and to his eyes. He glanced up at her with a smirk, raising a cocky eyebrow, knowing very well how she'd been eying him.

"I, uh, have not seen you for a few days," Nim said, coming a little closer to him. She could feel the heat coming off the furnace as she did. "I wanted to check on you — see how you're settling in."

"Well enough," he told her, looking back down at the weapon he was making. "They're happy to have my help given the new circumstances."

"Just how many of the weapons have you made this week?" she asked curiously. She had heard from other citizens that Halbrand was putting out swords at an impressive — and almost inhuman — rate. And evidently, no one thought the work was lacking either. "I've only heard amazing things about your craftsmanship."