''Disguised as a regretful pilgrim, he was soon permitted to tread the paths of Aman all. Not confined anymore in the golden halls of Valimar. The Enemy wandered for very long time in search of piety and comprehension; someone who could grant him amnesty for all the sorrows he had caused in Manwë's kingdom. The Powers had in fact (not without divergences within their solemn judgement) decreed to free him from the chains of captivity, though they would never trust his intentions again. Melkor's schemes were thus directed to the Eldar who had accepted the sacred invitation to reside in and in the surroundings of the Blessed Realm. The fair Vanyar showed staunch resolution in turning his deceiving offers down, as they thoroughly despised the one who had dared to claim Middle-earth as his own dominion and attempted to harm the Firstborn since their very first awakening. They lived in the heart of the very Valinórë, and lit were they by the eternal day which used to be within the Pelóri; the lure of Melkor had simply no effect. On the other hand, my mother's kind was deemed too weak to fulfil the Evil's purposes. The Teleri of Aman fancied greatly their joyful solitude on the shores of the Sea, even if that meant renouncing the light that enlightened only what lay beyond the walls of Valinórë. Any desire or trace of resentment was totally alien to them.
And so it eventually followed that, out of the three kinds of the Eldar, it was my own which served the Dark Vala's propositions well. Something I am deeply ashamed of, regardless of the fact that my father and my House didn't fall prey of those treacherous words. The valiant people of Ñolofinwë too managed to acknowledge the falsehood of the ill-parlance of the Enemy. But, I must earnestly confess, most of the Noldor were nonetheless moved by those speeches; and even if some rejected the premises of that disgraceful discourse, it's undoubtedly true that the flame of ambition was nourished significantly in all our hearts.
But the main victim, yet guilty at the same time, was Fëanáro himself. Melkor won the craftsman's doubts by helping him and his people in grand deeds of craftsmanship, sharing a sort of knowledge that only the mightiest of the Ainur could know. His untruthful friendship was only aimed at conquering the confidence of the greatest of the Noldor and the ones who used to attend his presence. The time was then proper to start the slow and subtle poisoning of their minds. As the rotten weed which is ought to be eradicated from gardens, he started propagating his malice at the expense of us all. The Enemy lied and lied again. Fëanáro and his people were somehow convinced that the Valar, lest the Noldor achieved enough might to flout their holy authority and take control of Middle-earth, had caged them in Aman and forced them to dwell in their immortal realm. A sort of golden gaol, behind whose joyful eternity lay the will of the jealous Powers to contain their guests' ambitions via vigilance and tyranny. The apex of that evil design was reached when they were told that weaker Children of Ilúvatar would replace the Eldar and rule over all mortal lands; a voluble race that could be easily controlled as the Valar's own dummy.
Therefore, initial voices of discontent began to be heard throughout Kôr. Voices that soon turned overt and loud. The limit was breached when Fëanáro threatened to kill Ñolofinwë in front of Finwë himself, blinded by anger and false suspects. Those acts had violated the peace of Aman and were then too manifest not to be ultimately dealt with. The Powers summoned Fëanáro in Valimar and Mandos punished his actions with a temporary exile in Formenos, while unveiling the real intentions of Melkor and the fallacy of his lies. The Blacksmith thus realised how he had been played by the Dark Lord and made the Evil's merest instrument, yet his heart was ever burning in resentment towards everyone and everything seen as an obstacle to his and his people's right to rule. But the storm seemed to have been placated a bit and things were slowly returning to normality; the imperturbable and customary normality of those blessed shires. During his expiation in Formenos, Fëanáro was granted the permission to participate in one of the great festivities of Valinórë, to draw a definitive line regarding the past happenings and to make sure that harmony was restored again among the Houses of the Noldor.
But upon an unfortunate series of events, our destiny was already determined. The Noon of Valinórë was about to end, and the end was the worst one could have ever foreseen. The Enemy had by then fled from the Blessed Realm to escape the wrath of the Valar and had hidden himself in the unguarded vastness outside the inviolable walls of Valinórë. Many times had we been warned by thy people, my Queen, of the perils and dreadful dangers that the very Aman may put one in front of, across the lands that were solely lit by the Stars of Varda the snow-white: the frozen wastes of Araman in the north up to the deadly ice of Helcaraxë, and the long dark shores of Avathar in the south. Immersed in the darkness of those ancient times that embraced Middle-earth too. It was in fact in the obscurity of Avathar that Melkor had sought refuge, knowing that a very gruesome entity had those eerie lands as its lair. After the tragedy which had struck us by surprise, we were informed that it was an unknown Maia who had been lurking in Aman for millennia, feeding herself from the near gleams of the Two Trees. A horrible monster that had grown within the immortal continent, unbeknownst to the rulers of the West. Ungoliant was her name. The creature had never dared to contest the Powers' authority, fearing their fury; not until the coming of the Dark Vala.
The epilogue of the story is not difficult to guess, I presume. The Enemy and his auxiliary climbed the forbidden peaks of the Pelóri and pierced all defences. While the Ainur and the Eldar were gleefully rejoicing and celebrating the wonders of the evergreen Blessed Realm, the two reached Ezellohar and destroyed the greatest masterpiece and deed ever created by the Valar since the beginning of Arda itself. Melkor hit the Two Trees and Ungoliant absorbed their life from their wounds, getting unthinkably colossal. Valinórë was abruptly darkened, and the eternal day which we had lived in with bliss vanished in just a moment, never to return. Agony and desperation took us, whereas the Powers were trying to understand what terrible fate had marred their realm. But what we all experienced after was probably even more unspeakable: Ungoliant, in the fashion of an immense spider, started wreaking havoc everywhere, as her unceasing hunger compelled her to devour anything of light. Neither the Valar's guards nor Tulkas himself succeeded in stopping her from unleashing her enhanced powers against them.
I will never forget that horror. Ungoliant used the light she had devoured to produce black webs of pure darkness. A totally unnatural kind of darkness. Some sort of 'dark light', alive and disruptive. That darkness seemed not just to be the mere absence of light, but rather its own very nemesis. It was, as I sensed, as if anything of joy, love and life had been erased from the whole world. Her Majesty was there, when the One disclosed part of his Plan in timeless and ancestral eras. Thou was there, Melyanna, when most of what is was conceived. How is it possible that events present us such terrible challenges to withstand, and such horrific enemies to face?''
Then, Nerwen interrupted her speech and sat down in one of the benches placed in that balcony. Language left her for a while, and slender tears began to come down from her rosy face.
Kôr is the ancient name of Tirion, dwelling of the Noldorin royal family in Aman.
