"Nay Nyr, the ring you carry once went by the name of Thangrîm and was without a doubt a lesser ring of power. I took it for my own as...recompense for my stay at the city of Ost-in-Edhil sometime during the second age. The Noldor cared little for these lesser rings, so I suspect they never even knew that I had taken it", said Tinnurion as he looked lost in deep thought.
"I wore the ring for a brief while, and I believe it gave me the means to find the secret behind the forging of galvorn, a secret I had craved to uncover for a long time. But I learned that the ring was made with evil intent and I parted with it. The ring then came to a dwarf named Fróthi in Khazad-Dûm as a token of our friendship. He carved a single rune in the silver and thereafter carried it with him wherever he went. What happened to the ring thereafter, I know not. I do know, however, that the ring gave your ancestors the means to become very prominent in Moria, and for many generations it was indeed held as your family's most precious heirloom, but in time the ring's origin and power were forgotten, when at last I met a wounded dwarf named Fruni somewhere in the Misty Mountains thousands of years later, and saw the runed ring on his finger. The memory returned to me and I tried to warn Fruni of the ring's power, but he was hard to convince, like Fróthi before him. He wore it without worry, but I believe it betrayed him in the end."
I could not believe everything he told me. This ring was indeed a magic ring? And it somehow caused the death of my cousin, the last of my relatives?!
"You mean to say Fruni perished because of this ring?", I asked flustered.
"I mean to say it was either Fruni's neglect of or secret faith in the ring that betrayed him in the least opportune moment. You see, because Thangrîm was bound by the One, its power faded when the One was destroyed, and in that very moment Fruni fell."
For a good long while it was quiet betwixt us. I weighed every one of Tinnurion's words, but could not find flaw in them. Or could I?
"I cannot believe what I'm hearing. This is too much."
Tinnurion looked at me with doggish eyes. "I know Nyr, but I hope you understand now that you cannot put faith in a relic made by the dark lord's cunning, for that carries great risk, regardless of what intentions go with it. So trust me dear friend, the secrets in these books, whether or not they hold the ones you seek, are better left unraveled. They should have been destroyed along with him, but it seems they have found their way to you. It now falls to you to decide what to do with them. But pray, do heed my warning where your cousin did not; mightier beings than you or I have been deceived by the work of the Dark Lord. Burn it lest it should corrupt this world any longer."
The elf spoke true, it was for me to decide what to do with this knowledge. If indeed it held the secret to the forging of great rings, the Stouthammer bloodline could dig its way into the history chronicles of our people for generations to come, and the forging of magic rings could mean a new age for dwarven kind. But the elf's wisdom gnaws at that dream. If I am to believe him, it could instead cause terrible things. But is it not worth the risk? I shall need some time to think it over.
"I will not forget your warning, Tinnurion. But as you said, it is for me to decide what happens to these books. I have a long journey ahead of me before I can find someone to translate them for me. I will take that time to decide upon their fate."
"I hope you decide wisely, Nyr. But please, take some rest before you leave. The road is treacherous, even without the darkness in the east."
I accepted his invitation to stay there for a couple of days longer. We talked of many things, sang many songs and when at last the time had come for me to leave, I wished him a heartfelt goodbye.
