Her hands slid over the backs of his, cupping them so as to turn his palms up, the pads of her thumbs resting lightly against the curve where his own met his index. As she settled back against his chest, she hummed lowly to herself, a rare sort of content passing over her that had grown since their reuniting in Valinor.
"There is something remarkable about your hands." Idle, absent; airy in her wondering aloud. "I wonder if it is perhaps because you are so skilled with bow and arrow." Mablung's palms slid back to his wrists, thumbs running along the underside of the joints as she tipped her head back to rest against Beleg's shoulder. Even as she did so, her gaze remained on his hands as she toyed with them. With her right hand, she changed hold again, reaching for Beleg's left. Her focus drifted over his skin, where it's smooth and where it's callused, and fingertips followed in feather-light trace. "More skilled an archer I have never known." Nothing that hadn't been said before in their lifetimes, but she had seen him--truly seen his skill in most perilous circumstances. She could say with certainty the extent of his skill. Her palm pressed to his then, her own calluses sliding over his as she interwove their fingers. Though there existed little difference between the builds of male and female, still there were differences in the smaller shapes of their hands, their fingers, and it was these that held her attention, now, seeking out all that she could find for her own curiosity.