Annatar had to admit that Celebrimbor had done well for himself. Yet with that restless spirit that was so indicative of his heritage, he wanted more. Constant driving to better and better results resulted in him being the best smith this side of the sea (excepting the disguised Maia, of course).

"So why do you wish to create something like this?" Annatar asked Fëanor's grandson. Celebrimbor took a sip from the wineglass he held in his left hand.

"For my people," he said. "We are immortals living on mortal shores, and it takes its toll. Yes, many of us could sail West should we choose to: but we love Middle-earth and have no desire to leave. If I could create something that could help us stay here without all the grief caused by our slow fading, then perhaps we could again look to the future, rather than the past."

A past in which your family is often featured in a less than positive light, Annatar thought, though he didn't say it. So Celebrimbor wished to absolve his family's past deeds did he? And he was willing to trust a wanderer that he had been warned repeatedly against to do so. That may or may not be his downfall, Annatar mused, as he too took a sip of the truly excellent wine. He hadn't decided yet. Still, he could sympathize with the elf, he too was hiding a past he would prefer if all forgot.

"A ring might be the best way to go," Annatar said out loud. "It would be the easiest to wear while wielding."

Celebrimbor looked over at his guest with undisguised hope in his eyes. "Then you'll help me?" he asked. Annatar nodded, and Celebrimbor smiled widely.

"To the future, then," he proposed, as he held up his glass. Annatar smiled, and raised his glass as well.

"To the future," he echoed. And may the past be forgotten, he thought as he drank.

George Santayana said that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. This, however, is probably closer to willfully ignoring the past. And we all know how it's going to end up.