Moonlight and colored fabric reflected beautifully off the face of the heavy ingot, creating a scintillating lightshow as it was turned over and over. Its brightly-dressed bearer watched the reflections go by with a smile for a while before turning his gaze skywards.

"A precious gift," he murmured, "as much for the rarity of the giver as the rarity of the gift. But what to do with it?"

For a minute the night air was filled with the sound of singing, elven words streaming like a liquid silver of their own.

"It should be a work of art of its own," he declared abruptly, breaking off the song. "Elegant, to set the stage for an audience." He paused for a moment. "To set the stage..." he murmured happily to himself. "Yes, that would do. But beyond my skill. So, I must find someone."

He laughed suddenly, a gleeful sound, and started singing again.