So Far Away ✔

011

. . .

DÍS

. . .

The clay slid through her fingers. It felt cold against her skin, despite the fact that she was working with it for hours. Softly, she hummed ancient dwarf songs. A few days ago Arwen had told her that Aulë's clay was very sensitive to voices. Laughing, Dís had shaken her head, but she had tried it nevertheless. The result was astonishing. It felt like the clay moved at the slightest touch, not molding itself to her fingers but to the image she bore in mind.

It had made her smile. This was much more than a way to pass time. It gave her the feeling the gods were close. As if they were finally listening to her. Sometimes she had the silent hope that her pain was fading; that she was creating more and more good memories replacing the painful ones. It was a gift that was priceless and she wondered if Lord Elrond had known what power was hidden in the clay.

Once more her fingers glided across the face she had been sculpting, tracing the lines of his face, the curve of his nose and the position of his lips. She was so immersed in her work that she was startled when someone knocked on the door. Quickly she stepped back. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she cleaned her hands in a hurry. Could it be Lord Elrond?

He had told her to come visit to watch her work one day and every time someone was at the door, that promise crossed her mind. Up to now, she had been disappointed every time, although she didn't know why she felt that way. Maybe it was for the best if he didn't see her creations. Maybe he didn't like them at all. It was still the making of a dwarf and it lacked the refined touch of an elf.

Nervously she headed to the door. Opening it a bit, she was relieved to see Elrohir.

"Hey Dís," he greeted her merrily. "You're in for a walk? The weather is beautiful today!"

Dís' cheeks turned red. It felt like the clay was calling her, begging her not to be left alone.

"Oh, you're busy, right?" Elrohir asked, winking at her as he noticed her hesitation. "You should get yourself a workshop outside!"

Dís shrugged her shoulders. Although she loved the open air, she wasn't as depended on it as the elves. Dwarfs like her used to live underground while the elves were almost living in the trees and only went inside to sleep.

"Maybe I'll do that one day."

Elrohir chuckled. "Yeah, you're very close to convincing me." He smirked. "How's your masterpiece? Can I see it?"

His eyes were sparkling, making it impossible to refuse. "Okay, fine."

She smiled slightly as she led him to the table. However, the moment she saw the face she had been working on so long, she gasped for breathe. It felt like a spell was broken and she could finally see the real forms. The facial features were soft but stricter than Famin's. His smile wasn't as wide as that of a child, but cautious and breathtaking. And his ears... his ears were absolutely not those of a dwarf.

Dís panicked. There was no way she wanted to show Elrohir who she had really made. Stepping towards it, she made it looked like she tripped over her feet. Slamming the piece of art from the table she made her knee fall upon it, making the clay unrecognizable. Shame made her cheeks burn and tears of desperation jumped into her eyes. Had he seen it? And what the hell was this?

"Dís?" Elrohir's voice seemed to be far away. "You all right?" In a hurry, he crouched down beside her.

Dís kept silent, intending not to touch that bewitched clay ever again.