Act II Part I: The Black Elf of Minhiriath
In the early years of the second age of Middle-Earth, Eriador was covered in vast woodlands as far as the eye could see. The ents lingered here still in great number and saw to the growing of things small and tall. But in the forests of Eriador Men lingered also, and where Men dwell, the axe falls heavy and smoke rises high; as is the way of all Men. In the forests of Minhiriath, there dwelled such Men as had dwelled in Brethil of old, where Tinnurion came to be thrice chained in his search for the sword of Eöl. But unlike the Haladin, these Men were afraid of Elves and they led a secretive life, content with staying far away from others. Many of them were also smaller in size and less wise and they were quick to anger.
Amidst these wood-woses, hidden away in some dark dwelling surrounded by tall pine trees and thorned bushes, there lived Tinnurion and his two companions. Since the fall of Beleriand, they had not left the forests of Minhiriath, but neither were they content with their lives hither, for well did they remember whence they came and all that had passed since the day they left. But they learned how to survive on their own, and they risked little danger in those days. The Drúedain were aware of their presence, and feared them greatly, avoiding them at all costs. They called Tinnurion the Black Elf and he was thought to be of evil mind and a conjurer of foul magic.
In the coming seven centuries, Tinnurion found the time to rediscover his love for craftsmanship, and most of all that of the Dwarves. The wealth of Khazad-Dûm had multiplied since the coming of the Blue Mountain exiles, and Durin welcomed visitors to feast their eyes upon the splendour of the greatest Dwarven kingdom in Middle-Earth. Tinnurion travelled along the great river (soon to be named the Gwathló) and came into a land of holly trees which was all but strange to him, yet not unwelcoming. The holly held leaves the like he had not seen in Beleriand, and it bore fruit that was deceivingly sweet to the eye, and he remembered well the love he bore for growing things with prickly edges, as they had nourished him in his time of need. He took their seeds and leaves with him, and some of their berries also, though he learned that they were poisonous.
At the gates to the dwarven realm, he came bearing gifts (as was his way with Dwarves), yet of little worth did his gifts seem to them, for the Dwarves had grown so wealthy indeed that they had learned to overlook the gesture behind the giving of gifts and judged only the gift itself. But Tinnurion knew his way with Dwarves, and he earned their friendship, if not by gifts then by praise.
And within the realm of Khazad-Dûm, his love for growing things made room once more for the molding of metals; armour and swords of all shape. And here he took up the smithing hammer and he learned what he could and in his heart was kindled the desire to make things of great worth. Therefore, at his dwelling in Minhiriath he built a smithy, where he worked with his companions on artifacts of great skill and beauty, much like he had done with his master of old. But while he knew a great many things about metalworking, in the making of things Tinnurion was not like Eöl, and often he marred what he made when attempting greater feats.
Even in his time in Nan Elmoth, his skill lay in smelting, mixing and brewing, rather than hammerwork. In that he found craftsmanship like few other. Indeed, it were a poison of his own making which Eöl had used to coat his weapons. By said deed he was further removed from the Eldar.
Thus the lives of Tinnurion and his companions was peaceful and they found solace in their work for many years. But far to the south, across the sea, lay the land of Númenor and unbeknownst to them, men grew powerful hither and built great fleets and their eye turned to the horizon and to the shores of Middle-Earth.
