“It would seem you have far surpassed your grandfather’s skill at the craft,” remarked Erestor quietly after the rings had been presented and accepted, tested willingly by those who wielded them.
“It would seem,” replied Celebrimbor.
The majority of those few who were assembled were gathered around the ring bearers, but Erestor held himself back. There was more than caution: Fear, perhaps. He asked Celebrimbor in a whisper that could almost be mistaken for mind speak, “Is the power in the ring, or in the jewel the bearer wears?”
“The power is in the spirit of the one who possesses it.” Celebrimbor smiled slyly. “It is the only way the rings remain safe, unconnected. My skills are not greater.”
“Perhaps, but your solution is craftier.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Celebrimbor, Erestor