Written for the B2MEM "Magic" challenge. And so many thanks to RiverOtter for the beta.
He was to marry a princess of Cardolan, and soon. He’d come to Imladris to prepare for that marriage, and while here he sought to craft gifts for his bride’s kinsmen.
So it was that the Prince of Arthedain, aided by a kinsman who was a master smith, watched and advised by Elven smiths, Lord Glorfindel, and a visiting Dwarf from Khazad-dûm, forged blades of honor intended to be gifted to the father and three brothers of his betrothed.
“You will be putting spells to these, won’t you?” grunted the Dwarf.
“Of course,” said the Prince. “Spells for the protection of those who bear them, and curses on the folk of Angmar who ever harry our lands and people.”
The Dwarf nodded in satisfaction. “And I’ll gladly add a rune of power to each of them from my own folk,” he promised. “May it work to the dismay of the Enemy’s forces!”
Glorfindel gave a particularly sardonic smile. “And you will not have forgotten the teaching you had here as a youth?”
“Indeed not,” answered the Mannish descendant of the brother to the Lord of Imladris.
“Then I shall Sing as you work,” declared the golden-haired slayer of Balrogs. And he was as good as his word.
So the two Men labored over the blades, bending and folding the steel seven times before beating them into shape. Under the tutelage of the Dwarven smith certain signs were inlaid in fine lines of mithril upon the blade of each; more were traced as suggested by the Elves, and at last the two Men added an eight-pointed star to the blade of each, uttering over each one such words of Power as had descended through the heirs of Elendil to these, his current heirs within Arthedain.
The hilts were finally attached, each inlaid with red gems intended to protect the blood of those bearing them while drawing forth the blood of enemies. And Elrond himself provided carefully wrought sheathes of wood and leather for each of the blades, each richly inlaid.
“Worthy gifts,” he said as he saw each blade slipped carefully into its housing. “Blessed are they by representatives of all of the Free Peoples; may they serve their bearers well.
As he saw to the destruction of the barrow in which he’d found the Hobbits, Iarwain noted the four long knives laid by the wight at the feet of the four Hobbits where they’d been placed by their captor on the cracked biers. It was long and long since he’d last seen these, the frailest of them borne by the prince who’d lain alone on the smaller bier, the youngest son of the King of Cardolan, one of those who particularly seemed to carry the Light of Eärendil within him.
“And what of these?” he murmured to himself, then smiled. “Time it is that these are brought back into the light, or so I deem. And who better than these to carry them?”
So saying, he swept them up with what treasures he’d found, including a brooch crafted of sapphires and topazes and blue quartz that he remembered had been given to the Queen on the marriage of her daughter to the Prince of Arthedain. So beautiful and strong in virtue and intelligence had been both mother and daughter, as well as the youngest of the princess’s brothers. It was with satisfaction that he added the sheathes to his load and swept out of the ruins of the tumulus to pour out the jewels upon the ground, then sheathed each blade and presented it to one of the Hobbits. “Long knives of Men should make proper swords for those of Hobbit-kind,” he noted.
And as the Hobbits took them and looked at the blades in wonder, he added his own Song to the blessings and spells once laid upon them--and upon their new bearers.