Ossë pads slowly into the forge, chin up and stride steady. A small chest is in his hands, and his eyes are on Sauron as he approaches — but they do not stay on his face, traveling over his form. “You always visit me; I thought it only fair that I return the favor. And, /like you/, I come bearing gifts.”

He takes the little box carefully, as if it might bite.  “Cousin…? To what do I owe this welcome, if exceedingly unexpected, gesture of goodwill?” 

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