The market square of Ost-in-Edhil in Eregion was a vibrant, chaotic hub of Elven ingenuity and commerce. The air thrummed with the sound of hammers and the lyrical chatter of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the jewel-smiths. Sunlight glanced off the displays of fine metalwork and gems, creating a dazzling spectacle—a perfect stage for Celebrimbor's current display. Today was not about diplomacy or forging; it was about staking an absolute, public claim. Celebrimbor had been under intense pressure from the Elves of the neighboring realms, and his response was a maximalist, highly public assertion of his devotion to you, his wife.

He had insisted on escorting you personally to the market, not for necessity, but for visibility. He was dressed impeccably, his silver hair braided with gold wire, and his presence drew immediate, deferential attention from every artisan and shopper. But his focus was utterly, possessively fixed on you. As you walked, he maintained an almost suffocating level of Public Display of Affection, ensuring every single soul present understood your paramount importance. His arm was not simply linked with yours; it was a firm, stabilizing band around your waist, holding you close to his side with proprietary strength.

When he spoke to you, he would lean in, murmuring words of endearment and private jokes that only you could hear, his lips brushing your ear, a gesture so intimate it forced every curious onlooker to hastily avert their gaze. He paused dramatically before a vendor displaying exquisite, uncut sapphires. He dismissed the merchant’s spiel with a flick of his wrist. "These stones," Celebrimbor declared, his voice carrying easily across the square, making sure his artisans—who were ostensibly working nearby—heard every word. "They are flawless, yes, but they lack the depth, the genuine fire that resides in your eyes, my mîr."

He didn't just buy you a piece of jewelry; he crafted a scene. He gently took your hand, pulling the back of your hand to his lips for a long, lingering, and utterly dramatic kiss that spoke volumes of worshipful ownership. He then held your hand against his cheek for a moment, his eyes closed, sighing with theatrical, intense affection, before placing a magnificent sapphire—already set in a silver ring he pulled from his own pocket—onto your finger. "This is but a fraction of the luster you possess," he whispered, loud enough to ensure the small crowd that had gathered could hear.

He then turned, flashing a look of fierce, possessive satisfaction at the assembled jewel-smiths—many of whom had doubted the sincerity of his marriage. "Let this be understood by all of Eregion. The true masterpiece of my life is not in the forge, but here," he stated, his voice ringing with Noldorin authority, as he pulled you fully against his side, his kiss deep and entirely unapologetic. "She is the source of all my inspiration, and no project, no council, no jewel, takes precedence over my devotion to her."