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'This is for you...' the smith traversed the hall, bestowing the jewel with gentle grace upon Celebrimbor. 'For the final stage, wooden tools were employed, along with a slurry imbued with diamond dust for abrasion. Behold how these intricate curves follow the strands of your hair... it is almost akin to poetry.'
'So exquisite a gift... ethereally beautiful... Thank you,' whispered Celebrimbor, observing his reflection in the water fountain. The silver tiara adorning his brow, ornamented with crystal-shaped flowers, gleamed in its splendor. 'It would be impossible to find an elven or dwarven smith in Middle-earth capable of crafting such delicate arts as you do. Indeed, you are a true disciple of Aulë.'
The Maia dismissed the compliment with a nod. 'Silver befits you, Tyelperinquar.' Redirecting his attention to the tiara, he elucidated, 'The ridges of the flower shapes adorn both sides, their angular contours present a challenge, yet not an impossible one. With further tutelage, you shall attain a mastery akin to mine, my prince.'
'You are modest,' remarked Celebrimbor. 'Nevertheless, it is appropriate to bring our work session to a conclusion for the present.'
The Maia wore an inquisitive countenance. No answer arrived, so Celembrimbor again spoke: 'Are you oblivious to the significance of this day?'
After a long pause, the Ainu spoke: 'Say on.'
'Tonight marks a millennium untarnished by the malevolence of Morgoth! Tonight, we celebrate Arda's liberation!' announced Celebrimbor, his countenance alight with satisfaction.
Golden eyes radiated with something akin to anger, and the feline pupils penetrated the silver hammer resting upon the crystal table. However, recognizing that he still needed the elf, he refrained from using it as a tool to pierce Celebrimbor's fair visage. Gathering his self-control, he acknowledged the justness of the relief coursing through the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth (especially the elves) in the wake of Melkor's banishment. Their happiness was justified and he couldn't deny it.
'...And yet, I lack a partner for the dance,' intoned Celebrimbor's silver voice, rousing amber eyes from their contemplative state.
'This I doubt,' asserted the Maia, gently extricating Celebrimbor's arms entwined about his neck.
'Allow me to rephrase: the one with whom I wish to dance had not extended an invitation,' pressed the Noldor prince, nudging the Maia with heightened determination.
'I possess no proficiency in the art of dance.'
'What manner of Ainu are you, Annatar?' he smiled anew. 'Had you not spent even a fraction of eternity with Vána, partaking in dancing upon the ever-green lawns of Valinor?'
'Very well, then,' Annatar feigned surrender. 'This night, we shall dance, make merry, and feast. This night, we celebrate the demise of Morgoth and his tyrannical reign. We rejoice, recalling the noble deeds of the Free Peoples of Arda.'
He reiterated words that brought pleasure to Celebrimbor, the very words sought by the Noldo. Words of untruths that he did not believe. Amidst laughter and dance, they traversed the halls with joy.
'But come the morrow,' Annatar cautioned, 'we shall resume our toil.'
'Agreed.'