[Mithalwen]

"Well, there is no one right way to build a harp and I have had rather more time at my disposal, I started learning my craft when Elendil was founding his kingdom and some of my teachers had learnt theirs in Doriath and Gondolin. The wood I use, I have usually watched grow from a sapling and while to cut a tree is a sorrow, there are worse fates we deem. Each wood has it's own quality, the beech is beloved of elves and long lived so I use it seldom by design" She took the harp and examined it closely before drawing a range of scales and arpeggios from the instrument.

"I deem you have made it well to suit your purpose and needs. " She answered diplomatically - the harp had a robust but true tone, " were it used mainly for Elvish music, I would make certain adjustments to the voicing. Forgive me if I am too critical but in my own land, I am expected to make the instruments only for those with greater skill in performance ".

Nevertheless she picked out a tune she had learnt many years ago in Gondor, a tune of mortals she thought would suit the tones of this man made harp. For elves, music conjures visions or memories in the mind and she was transported across many centuries to the day when she had learnt that tune, the memory of the one who had taught it her brought back emotions still too painful to deal with in public and she stopped playing and returned the harp to its owner.

"I regret, I can not show you an instrument of my own making for I brought only the things which I expected to need on my journey. And no instrument has travelled to the south I think, unless perchance the lady Arwen took with her the lute I made for her long ago"... Mithalwen paused, lost again in memory and then stirred, wondering if it was time that she should return to the forge. But at that moment the vittles ordered by Aman arrived, hospitality she felt she could not refuse.