Aethelrien softly closed the door to her chamber, careful to not disturb the others sleeping in the house. The room was dark, save for a small sliver of moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains. She closed them tightly and lit a candle on the bedside table. She pulled off her boots, placed her bow on the floor and let it rest against the wall in the corner. After removing her quiver she placed it on the bed. Carefully and reverently, she pulled out a large black arrow. It's shaft was sturdy and perfectly straight. Despite the dim light in the room the black fletching feathers shimmered slightly. She checked each feather, ensuring they were still intact and had not sustained any damage. Aethelrien then proceeded to hang the arrow on the wall above her bed.
Still not feeling tired, Aethelrien took out her woodworking tools and placed then quietly on the floor near the hearth. She then reached behind the head of her bed and pulled out an old chest, its wood was grayed with age. She carried it over to the hearth, placed it on the floor, stoked the fire, and sat down. Quietly, Aethelrien opened the lid and looked at its contents. Inside the box, wrapped in white cloth was a stack of black branches. The bark of each branch was a light gray, it had the appearance of charred wood. It was the heart of each branch that was the most interesting, it was black as pitch; the light barely reflected off the surface.
Aethelrien took her time looking at each branch individually and inspecting it carefully. She held it up to the light cast by the fire, turning it one way and then the other. She ran her fingers up and down each side, checking for knots or cracks. After several minutes, she found a suitable piece. She placed it on the floor and closed the lid of the chest.
For a moment, Aethelrien stared at the fire watching the flames flicker. As she did she wished she could share with Cirvedui where these came from. She knew he appreciated her craftsmanship of the arrow she gifted. He was genuinely interested in the source of the wood. Aethelrien sighed, picked up a tool and began the task of crafting another black arrow. This one slightly inferior to the one hanging on the wall.
