Act II, Part V: Thangrîm
Eight winters passed when at long last the war for Eriador was won by the Elves of Lindon and the Númenorians. But a great victory it could not be called, for the land was undone in many ways; the forests of Eriador suffered greatly and many proud realms lay in ruin. Tinnurion got wind of this through the Dwarves, whom had again opened their doors, though warily. And to Tinnurion it seemed that where the forests had suffered, and the realms of Men and Elves had been brought low, Khazad-Dûm had prospered; its halls filled with Dwarves, statues and pillars raised high, carts overflowing with gold and precious items of various smith craft. Deep had they delved in the earth now, uncovering more veins of true silver and Durin saw that it was good.
And the echoing sound of hammer upon anvil and the roaring of the fires and the great bellows and the scent of iron brought about a feeling unfelt before, so that he quickly found himself with hammer in hand at the great forges. A strong craving of steadfast resolution guided Tinnurion’s hands, and where he would have marred before he now mended, and so great a skill of craftsmanship he performed that the Dwarves themselves were in awe of his creation and they beckoned him to reveal his methods, for whilst they had witnessed it all, it had appeared to their eyes as if in the making lay some form of magic and they in turn now craved Tinnurion’s secret.
Tinnurion recognised something of the skill of his master of old in his works, and he rejoiced, knowing he had discovered the secret behind the forging of Galvorn. He made anew many friends among the Dwarves, but there were those also who harboured jealousy and they espied his every move in the hopes of discovering his secret. Long days he worked in the forges of the Dwarves, unwavering, unyielding; and all the things he made, save those made of Galvorn, he gave out freely, and the Dwarves were glad and in return they gave him a mithril smithing hammer, which he named Silivrentil.
But now he realised that the ring he bore worked the magic the Dwarves suspected him of. And it made him hesitant, and he stayed his hands for he knew well that in its making lay some evil, as had become apparent with the treachery of Sauron in Eregion. And a sudden surge of fear took him by surprise, as if the mere mentioning of the name brought back the woe and sorrows of Morgoth. And the dread that had seemingly left him now returned to him and he flung the ring from his hand, never to wield it again. But one dwarf named Fróthi saw this and he took the ring for his own, and though Tinnurion tried to warn him, the dwarf would not heed his words. Then the Dwarves bade him to leave their home and the ring passed out of his knowledge.
Tinnurion's time in Khazad-Dûm was thus ended and he would not return there in the long years that were left for him. And the only hope he could muster was the thought, however unlikely, that the Dwarves themselves would lose the ring in their own hoards. But as time and other stories would tell, this was not to be.
