Arrows of Love
The new apprentice annoyed Nerdanel, although she could not pinpoint why. High Prince he might be, yet he affected no high-born airs, working at the forge as hard as any other assistant her father had accepted. It was not Fëanáro’s fault that his appearance was so fair. Nonetheless, her eyes shot arrows of dislike towards him, hoping to crack this “smith” with barbs of hatred.
Fëanáro smiled, amused, then took up a hammer and turned back towards the forge and anvil. When would Nerdanel realize that every glance of hatred she sent towards him was actually an arrow of love?