They were all before him, three rough jewels yet unfashioned, but of a quality that out-matched any others. All were clear and unmarred, sparkling with brilliance in the fire light of his forge. He touched each one with light, reverent, fingers, daring to think that these jewels, once fashioned beautifully, could shine even brighter with the light of the Trees. He would be the creator of the jewels, and even the Valar would marvel at their glory. The thought took hold, becoming more than a distinct possibility. Grabbing familiar tools, Feanor took the first gem aside and began to work.