“Don't hurry so!”
Maitimo glanced up as loud voices sounded from Nerdanel's partially constructed studio. Apparently Caranthir had once again flattened his thumb with the hammer as he attempted to anchor his cloak hook into the wall of the entryway hall.
A smile ghosted across his face as he returned his attention to the knife in his hand. His sharp blade resumed shaping the mahogany clothes peg. He was carving a decorative scroll into its side that would identify it as his own. He wondered what materials and decorations each of his brothers had chosen for theirs.