Spirit of Fire: 9. Eight  Reader Toolbox   Log in for more tools
9. Eight  She worked the clay with unusually clumsy fingers. It
may as well have been mud tonight. The darkness that she knew
consumed her husband prevented her from concentrating on her
work and it suffered – as did her marriage, her family –
everything.  She flung a piece against the wall, the effort not
quelling the anger welling inside her. She left the relative
safety of her workshop, the room that had been her refuge as of
late. Before retiring to bed, she glared resentfully down the
hall at the locked door.   So his secrets would keep him from
her yet another night.  Nerdanel sat on a stool in the main room
of the apartment her parents kept in Tirion, her pottery wheel
motionless between her legs as she contemplated the lump of clay
in front of her. She had told her parents she was going into the
city ahead of them in order for some time alone to sculpt and
had hoped to have something to show them when they arrived
later, but she could n