The Burnt God by Taylor17387

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Poisoning

This chapter follows closely what it's told in the Silmarillion, though told from Melkor's perspective.
I took some liberties, still, for example with Ungoliant's speech pattern.
No slash in this one, unless you count Melkor/The Silmarils (well, that's not slash, it's canon! XD)
Warnings: some violence, and lots of Ungoliant squick.

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Poisoning

 

The great day finally arrived. And Melkor begged the Valar for mercy, lying face down in front of the Ring of Doom. The Valar looked upon the fallen brother from their high thrones, and when they saw him so humbled, so repentant, and reduced to such a little thing, compassion stirred inside most of them, and Manwë granted him forgiveness.
Melkor then lifted his head from the ground and met their gaze.
Varda was smiling, with the light of the stars twinkling in her eyes. And Yavanna radiated maternal affection. And Nienna wept tears of joy. Only Tulkas watched him grimly. And Mandos remained serious and silent. Though Melkor noticed a slight sarcastic smile on his lips, yes, a malicious grin that went unnoticed by the others, but whose meaning he knew all too well. For a moment he relived that pain that climbed from the base of his spine, and quickly averted his eyes from the Judge.
The joyful faces of the other Valar didn’t please him much more, anyway.
False, false all of them, without exception.
Now that he was sunk, now that he was nobody, now that he was the most miserable of all beings, now they loved him. Why didn’t they love him when he was Melkor, the Mighty Arising, when he was free to do and undo at his will, when he could still express himself through his powers as befits a god, in short, when he was HIMSELF?
Because they didn’t love Melkor, no, they just loved the "shadow" of Melkor.
There they stood, smiling like fools, and Melkor couldn’t stop thinking about the revenge that he would take upon each one of them.
He would bury Manwë underground, where not even the slightest gust of air could reach him. He would hang Varda off Valacirca, that sickle that she had placed over him in the sky as a threat. He would dry up Yavanna in some hole without water and he would throw Oromë to the wolves. For Tulkas, he would simply break the head with his mace, Grond, since it wasn’t worth devising a more sophisticated punishment for a brute like that. He felt some respect for Aulë, if just because he had dared to do something for himself, creating the dwarves behind Eru’s back. Yes, Aulë would be the last to suffer, but not because of that would he be less cruel to him. As for Mandos ... well, he’d rather not remember Mandos.

Melkor was so distracted by these thoughts, that he didn’t realize that Manwë had descended from his throne and approached him.
A mighty hand stroked his hair and he heard the voice of the king of the Valar saying softly:

-Stand up, brother. You are one of us again, and I don’t want to see you humiliated for a second longer.

Melkor accepted the hand that Manwë offered him and stood up. The light shone in the face of the Vala, and his hair and long blonde beard reflected it in a myriad of golden sparkles. Everything in his brother’s expression was nobility, and clarity, and goodness, and it made Melkor’s stomach turn. Especially when he looked at himself and realized how weak and pale was in comparison with him, after so many centuries of suffering.
Manwë, however, was unable to perceive his envy, and embraced the wayward brother so hard, that Melkor feared that he’d break him a rib.

- Oh, dear brother! I’ve waited for this moment almost since the beginning of time, when you defied the harmony of the Music, and I knew that you would not participate with us in the formation of Arda. I regretted it dearly, back then, thinking that your great powers would be lost forever in works of destruction, and Arda would never benefit from them. A great loss for the world, and for me, that always missed you. But now the dark times are over, and together we will create such wonders on earth, that it will be as if there was never any dissent. And Arda will shine more beautiful than ever, and the Children of Eru will finally have the home they deserve: without darkness, without monstrous beings that threaten them, without death. -Manwë squeezed him even harder, and then he noticed the marked bones through the fabric.- But what is this? I see that confinement has been hard for you, brother. You are nothing but skin and bones, it’s terrible. But do not worry, you will soon have a new body, strong, noble and beautiful as ours. And new clothes to replace those gloomy black garments that you wear now. My brother shouldn’t look like a specter, or a dark lord. You are now prince among the Valar.

And Manwë gave him a fraternal kiss on the cheek. Melkor was grateful when he released him, so he could breathe again.
"Prince among the Valar" he thought with contempt. Not king, but prince. And who would want to be a prince, when even the king is a slave to Eru and fate? It was a pathetic promise, really.
He tried not to linger much longer in the Ring of Doom and lose sight of the other Valar as soon as possible. But they were determined to take turns to embrace him and express their dumb joy, so he had to wait a bit. Tulkas didn’t want to hug him, and merely shook his hand with a little more force than was necessary, still frowning.
Finally, the Valar started leaving the Ring of Doom and returned to their respective houses.
Only Mandos stayed in front of him, a tall, silent figure, dressed in black.

- What happens Mandos, are you not going to embrace Manwë’s brother? – shouted Melkor with scorn- Oh, I know! You only like to embrace me when I'm like this. - and saying that, he tore his robe and let it fall to the ground. The light of the Trees fell upon the naked body, and coloured its whiteness with silver and golden glimmers. - Come, come over here and make me yours again, in front of everybody, with the Trees as witnesses! Or have you lost interest after ravishing me? Is that so? I warn you that this is your last chance to possess me! - and Melkor spread his arms in defiance.

Mandos observed him for a moment, there, alone on the grass, completely exposed to his gaze, and the fallen Vala seemed very fragile to him, deceptively fragile.

-No matter what Manwë says. You should keep this form forever, Melkor. In a strange way, it’s beautiful. – smiled the Judge, calmly and without moving from his place.

The eyes of Melkor let out a glint of disdain.

-All right, you have decided so, Mandos. You missed your chance. - and saying that, the rebellious Vala disembodied, and disappeared into a gray cloud, leaving behind the last silvery fragments from Telperion.

For a long time, Melkor was forced to stay in Valmar, under some supervision, and wandered aimlessly and uninterested within its walls. Life was boring for him, but the time to set things in motion hadn’t arrived yet. He hadn’t even conceived a concrete plan for revenge, nor had he regained all his powers, so he had no choice but to wander to and fro.
The Elves provided him some amusement, and he used to meddle in their conversations, faking kindness and willingness to help. He especially liked spying on them while disembodied, so they couldn’t see him, and intervene all of a sudden in the most inappropriate moment to cause them a good start.
These harmless mischiefs gave him some pleasure, and they were the only evil that was allowed to him, anyway.
He almost never took a physical form now, having developed a rejection towards bodies since his experience in the halls of Mandos. He didn’t want to have arms and legs to wear shackles, or a neck around which a chain could be put, or blood that may be spilled, or skin that may be stroked. And he didn’t want to feel ever again that ecstasy that had left him so weak and exhausted.
No, those things had made him vulnerable in the past, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake. Upon returning to Angband he would adopt the most monstrous and terrifying form that was ever seen, but it would be a form made of ice, and stone, and fire, and shadow. Never again made of bones, and flesh, and skin, never.

Thus Melkor spent his days walking through Valmar, and later through the whole land of Aman, with no body or company.
Manwë turned a bit sad when he saw that erratic behaviour. He felt that his brother hadn’t adapted to his new life yet, and had a conversation with him about this a couple of times.
He asked him why he was always naked and disembodied, and explained that this wasn’t good, that he scared the Children of Eru because they could not see him, and that it was shameful.

-I don’t find it shameful, brother -replied Melkor- And I don’t feel naked without a body. I've been much more naked in the past, and I know how it feels, believe me. I know how it feels to be completely and absolutely uncovered, in a way that ye will never understand.

Manwë lowered his eyes, upset.

-I understand. Mandos told me everything, what happened between you two. And I notice that this love has left deep wounds in you. But you have to forget him, Melkor. Mandos has a wife already, and I advise you to find one as well. Some company will help you greatly to heal those old wounds. Or maybe you don’t want a wife. Maybe you prefer a husband. It’s not common, indeed, usually the male spirits seek female spirits that temper their violence a little. It’s a matter of balance. But nonetheless, if that's what you want, I see no reason to oppose it. I know that you were always different from the rest...

Melkor was glad of not having cheeks at the moment, so Manwë couldn’t see them blushing from wrath and shame.

-Regarding that matter, dear brother, you can consider me a loner henceforth, as Ulmo. - replied, with ill-concealed irritation.

After that, Manwë decided to leave him alone, in the belief that Melkor would eventually put his existence back on track.

And indeed, he put it back on track. Because after long days of boredom, Melkor finally found something that brought back the meaning to his life, something that from that moment onwards, occupied his thoughts all the time.
He saw it during a festivity day, as he slipped unnoticed through the streets of Tirion: A tall Elf, with black hair and fierce gray eyes. The eldest son of the king of the Noldor, as he understood.
He walked with an air of grandeur that didn’t hide his disdain for everything around him, and his eyes betrayed a boundless pride that pleased Melkor greatly. Yes, those were beautiful eyes. Especially, because just above them glittered the objects that had aroused the passion of Melkor. Three gems, big as fists, that enclosed the light of the Trees and returned it in infinite fractals. That pulverized the light into atoms so small, that they drove directly into the soul of the one that beheld them.
And there was more. There was a living flame that stirred within the crystals, yes, a piece of the spirit of fire that had created them, with all his pride, and his passion, and his love, and his genius. Whoever possessed those gems, would not only possess the most beautiful thing that the Valar had created, but also the greatest thing of the noblest of the Children of Ilúvatar: his soul.
Upon realizing this, Melkor desired the stones with violence, with despair, almost with... lust.
Yes, it was the same feeling that he had the first time that Mandos touched him and left him abandoned just before climax. But multiplied a thousand times. Multiplied by each of the faces in which the gemstones were cut. Multiplied by each of the light beams that they radiated.
Melkor was thankful again for not having a body at that time. Because if he had, the desire that enraptured him would have been more than obvious to everyone who passed by.
From that day on, he couldn’t take the Silmarils out of his head. He saw them all the time before him, shining seductively, arousing a craving inside him that he wouldn’t satisfy until he made them his own. The idea of taking them to Angband, where nobody would see them again, and the hard blow that this would deal to the Valar and the Children of Eru, did nothing but stir up the flame of desire further.
Yes, it was a perfect plan. He would satisfy his lust, while taking revenge upon his enemies.

During that time, Melkor began spying and following Feänor and his Silmarils wherever he went.
And for this he adopted a body. A nicer body than the one he had previously, not very different from that of an Elf, but with an unmistakable touch of malice.
He wanted Feänor to know that he was following him, and he wanted him to know it was him, Melkor, the one who was following him, and moreover, he wanted Feänor to know that he, Melkor, did it on purpose for him to know. And this was because Melkor enjoyed deeply every time he saw the concern in the gray eyes of the Elf, when he turned around to see who was spying him from the nearby woods.
But Melkor didn’t know how to grab the gems that tormented him so much. He couldn’t kill Feänor and snatch them in broad daylight. And he couldn’t break into his house to steal them. It wasn’t wise to declare open war on the Valar yet, and for the moment, he should continue with the pretence.

Thus, since he couldn’t approach the Elf openly, he decided to separate him from the Valar and draw him to his side through more discrete ways.
He began to spread false rumors among the Children of Eru, and especially among the Noldor, whose obstinacy and arrogance were more useful for his plans. He spread the word about the arrival of the Second-born, about how they would dominate Middle Earth without being accountable to anyone, while the naive Eldar remained slaves for the Valar. And he spread the word about the ambitions of Feänor’s brothers, and how they planned to remove him from the line of succession.
He was convinced that these rumors would reach eventually the ears of the great goldsmith of the Noldor. And then it wouldn’t be necessary to pursue him anymore; the Elf himself would seek after him, and would travel with him to Middle Earth, near Angband, near his dominions, and there, out of the sight of the Valar, he would get rid of him and the Silmarils would finally fall into his hands.
Melkor shuddered with pleasure at the simple thought.

However, the great Feänor, although very skilled in the artistic field, turned out to be very stupid with diplomatic issues, and couldn’t think anything better than threatening his brother Fingolfin in front of everybody.
Then, as expected, the Valar meddled in the subject and interrogated him, and all the intrigues of Melkor came to light.
This time Melkor was far-sighted, and before Tulkas had finished cursing him and proclaiming all the nasty things that he would do when he caught him, he had already disappeared from Valinor, and had hidden in the deepest cave in the furthest mountain that he found. There he remained, frightened, for many days.
His initial plan had failed, and actually, it would have been easier to kill Feänor without further ado. After all, the result would have been the same.
The only thing that gave him solace now was thinking about the perplexed and disappointed faces of the other Valar, who had believed in his kindness. And above all, that of his brother Manwë. Melkor couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the scene.

His love for the Silmarils, however, had gone too deep. And with each passing day, the need of seeing them grew and grew inside him. Thus, one day he forgot all caution and came out of his hiding, even running the risk of Tulkas’ wrath.
An irrational desire had taken possession of his will, and led him to the gates of Formenos, where Feänor was exiled after the fight with his brother.
Melkor knew it was insane, but before he could reflect on it, he was already facing the house of the Noldo and knocking on his door.

"I just hope that he meets me with the Silmarils upon his forehead." he thought as he waited impatiently.

Melkor was already fearing that the Elf wasn’t at home, and planned to pull the building down in a fit of anger, when the door opened slightly, and two suspicious gray eyes shone through the gap.

-You! - exclaimed the Elf upon seeing him. And he opened the door wide, trembling with fury. - What are you doing here!? Can’t I have a moment of respite without you importuning me with your presence? Do you never get tired of stalking me, or what!?

Melkor bit his lip. No, he wasn’t wearing the Silmarils. But the next moment he took on his most charming expression, and with a sweet tone replied:

- What can I say about it, my dear Feänor? I've fallen in love.

Fëanor's eyes opened wide at this, and a flame of indignation danced in his eyes.

- What!? And you say that to a married man with seven sons? Definitely, the Valar have neither shame nor morals.

-I have no shame, indeed. Why should I have it? I am the most powerful being of Arda, I am a God, perfect in every way. There is nothing in me that causes me shame. With respect to morals, I don’t know what is that. It must be something that ye Elves invented, because I never heard anything about morals in the music of the Ainur.- Melkor leaned indolent on the door frame, invading the personal space of the Elf, and began to play with the brooch that closed his cape. Feänor pushed his hand away, offended.

-Don’t even get close to me. The mere thought of what you are proposing disgusts me enough. The last thing I want is your hand on me.

Melkor smirked.

-I may have a black heart, my dear Feänor, but you have just broken it.

-Sure I have... –snapped the Elf with sarcasm. Then Melkor grabbed his hand suddenly, and the ironic expression of the Noldo became one of shock ... and a slight fear.

-Do you despise a God, Feänor? That is a lot of pride, even for the son of a king, isn’t it? But do not worry, I like the proud ones ... -Melkor bent over him, until his mouth was left mere inches from his ear, and Fëanor felt a warm breath caressing him while the Vala whispered:- Come with me to Middle Earth . Here you are nothing but a petty prince, in a petty kingdom, under the petty yoke of the Valar. But there you will be king of kings, with me. I will give you everything you have always wanted. Power. Knowledge. Unlimited resources. The most beautiful jewels and the richest garments to adorn the most beautiful of the Eldar. And beneath the starry sky, during the endless night, I’ll give to you pleasures that you cannot even imagine. Immortality is very long, but if you spend it with me you will not regret it... My precious Feänor.- Melkor's voice trembled with desire, and still holding him, he began to stroke his neck gently. Feänor was terrified and tried to escape in vain.- No, no, my spirit of fire, don’t be afraid. I just want to help you, I just want to broaden your horizons, show you the endless possibilities that exist for you away from the walls of this narrow land. A being with your skills, with your incredible genius, should not wither here unnoticed. Consider what I offer you: an immense power and the love of a God. Are you going to reject it? Are you going to reject ME? No, the son of Finwe can’t be so stupid. And besides, your Silmarils are not safe here, with the greedy Valar. You know it.

However, upon pronouncing the name of the Silmarils, Melkor couldn’t hide the flame of lust bursting in his eyes, and Fëanor noticed this at once. With a sudden movement, he escaped from the hands of Melkor and stood before him, furious:

- So that's it! I should have known. It was all about my Silmarils, and it’s them what you want, not me!

Melkor laughed.

- Oh, dear Feänor! Anyone would say you are disappointed. Had you built up hopes with me already?

-No, I had not. But you will be hopeless for sure when I tell you that never, I repeat, NEVER, will you have my Silmarils. They are mine forever, and you will never convince me of giving them to you. And don’t try to seduce me again. Maybe that trick worked with Mandos, but it won’t work with me. So I invite you to go back to his prison and become his mistress there, if you want it so bad. But don’t come to my house ever again! - and saying this, the Elf slammed the door at his face.

Melkor was puzzled for a few seconds. Was it possible, really possible, that this infectious Elf, this lesser creature, had despised him: Melkor, the Mighty Arising?
A black whirlwind of feelings, a mixture of anger, and embarrasment, and hatred, and confusion, flared up in him at that moment, and unable to endure it anymore, he burst into a dark and terrifying cloud and escaped from there at full speed.
Why happened this to him? Since the Valar had imprisoned him, everything had gone awry. He had been humiliated once, and again, and again, and wondered if fate reserved yet another humiliation for him. The situation was unbearable, and he had to do something right now, at that moment, something big, something terrible, something that plunged that cursed land in shadows forever. Yes, that was a great idea, and the more he reflected on it, the more it seduced him. The Trees. He would take revenge upon all the Valar and all the Children of Eru in one go, through the Trees. It was a perfect plan: simple, fast, effective. And besides, weren’t also the Trees guilty for his misfortune? They had been silent witnesses of his imprisonment. For three ages, their light had filtered inside the prison to mock him. And they had seen him in all his vulnerability, while Mandos abused him. But that light wouldn’t see anything again, and no one would see that light again, no.

About all these things thought Melkor while fleeing from Formenos and crossing the Calacirya, towards the bay of Eldamar, and while passing by the city of the sea Elves, those Teleri that he despised so much were scared by the shadows that he left on his way .
Lost in the frenzy of revenge, he barely noticed the course he had taken, and when he recovered the calm, he found himself alone in the middle of the arid lands of the North, between the mountains and the sea.
No, that wasn’t the place he wanted to go to. Actually, his destination was in the South, in the region called Avathar, a region even more somber and desert than the Northlands.
There lived someone who owed him a favour.
And now he was going to claim it.

When he arrived at the entrance of the cave, the foul smell and thick darkness that emanated from the opening, so thick that it seemed solid, horrified even him. There was no doubt that this was the place, because no other being in Arda would be able to produce a substance as abominable as that.

-Ungoliant! – he shouted –Come forth at once! Your former Lord requires you now, in return for his clemency with you when you decided to leave his service.

Something moved inside the cave and there was some kind of gas eruption, followed by a nasty and slimy sound. A long black leg, covered in hairs and spines, and ended in a pincer, emerged from the blackness. And then came another leg. And another, and another. And finally emerged the most horrendous head that Melkor had ever seen, even inside the wells of Utumno. Multiple bulbous eyes looked at him, and from the jaws of the spider came a voice that seemed to flow straight from the bowels of the creature:

-Why dost thou bother Ungoliant, sir, when she doesn’t know thee? Unless thou desirest to be devoured, in which case Ungoliant will gladly grant thy wish.

And a thread of green slime slipped from her mouth. Melkor was filled with disgust every time he looked at her.

-Silence! What does it mean, you don’t know me? I am Melkor, the Mighty Arising, your old Lord from the times of Utumno.

-Yes ... Ungoliant knew a Melkor ... But thou art not him, or at least art not as she remembers him. Ungoliant's eyes no longer see as before. Too much darkness around, sir. Unless thou adoptest a more familiar form, she won’t know thee. - and snapping the jaws, she approached menacingly.

Then Melkor took again the form he had in Utumno and during his imprisonment, the Dark Lord, and Ungoliant’s eyes turned in its orbits, recognizing him.

-Ah, yes ... That's better. Melkor, Lord of Ungoliant.

-Listen, foul beast. There's a job I have to do, and you come with me, so don’t make me waste any more time.

-No, no, Ungoliant isn’t going. Ungoliant is too hungry.

Melkor became impatient, and in order to bring the spider out the cave as soon as possible, he made her the first promise that came to his mind. If he didn’t want to keep it later, he wouldn’t do it and that's it.

-Come on, stupid. If you come with me, you will devour so much light that not even your huge belly could keep it. And even in the case that you were not satisfied, I will give you all the treasures I’ll steal in Valinor, with both hands.

A deep laughter vibrated inside the belly of the spider, and she finally decided to come out. She was bigger than Melkor had thought, and was so swollen, that her pulpy body almost dragged across the floor.

-All right, if there’s food Ungoliant goes. But with one condition: as long as the Dark Lord is beside her, he will keep this same form all the time. He won’t turn bigger, or more dangerous. She knows the Lord all too well to trust him.

Melkor also agreed to this, eager to get going at last. He didn’t like being locked back in that body, which still had the marks of the shackles and the invisible wounds left by Mandos, both on the skin and in his insides. But in any case, he only had to wear it for a short span of time, as long as the task lasted, or until he got tired of the repulsive Ungoliant.

Thus the spider and the rebellious Vala set off without further delay, both wrapped in the web of darkness that the spider spew with every step. And it didn’t take them long to reach the top of the mountains and descend to the wastelands of the South.
They crept secretly through the forests of Oromë, and though Melkor had to give the occasional kick to the spider to make her move faster, in a short time they were in Valinor and glimpsed the Ring of Doom and the Trees at a short distance. The timing was perfect, because everybody, both the Valar and the Children of Eru, were in Taniquetil celebrating one of those dumb harvest festivals, and cities were left deserted.

"Oh, Manwë! You know I've escaped from your control, yet you are trusting enough to get drunk while I walk around freely. You undervaluest me, brother. But I'll teach you not to be so confident."- said Melkor to himself with perverse pleasure.

And he went to the thrones of Judgment, and began to knock them down one by one, as if inebriated by a desire for destruction.
He had almost forgotten about Ungoliant, when the monster's fetid breath reminded him of her presence:

-Lord Melkor, hast thou brought Ungoliant up here just to see thee knocking thrones? Where is the food?

- Oh, such impatience! Look, for the moment you can swallow that throne. –said Melkor pointing to the seat of Mandos.- Swallow it whole, do not leave anything. And then, follow me here. - and in a couple of jumps, Melkor planted himself on top of the green mound where the two Trees grew.

He looked up, and the mixed light made him blink, blinded.
Apparently, his siblings the Valar couldn’t build anything but huge vertical posts that threw light everywhere, burning one’s pupils. What a lack of imagination!
Then Melkor reminisced the days in which he had destroyed the two Lamps, when the world was young, and he was overwhelmed by nostalgia. Back then he didn’t need anyone's help to turn the world upside down.
How different was everything now!
Finally, Ungoliant reached the top of the mound, always dragging that tubercular sack that she should call body. And she turned the eyeballs toward the Trees, still drooling.

-Very well, my dear Ungoliant. Here you have, all the light of the world (except that of the stars, of course), and it's all for you. Drink, drink until you explode! - and Melkor, conjuring a spear in his hand, struck the two Trees with it, and the luminous fluid that run through their roots began pouring in torrents.

The jaws of the hungry spider snapped, and the next moment she was frantically sucking the sap.
Melkor moved away, to not hear the obscene sucking, and looked toward the top of the Trees, which were beginning to fade away.
First the light was diminished, as Ungoliant swallowed and regurgitated it as Unlight, and then it went out completely. But it didn’t end there, because the poison of the monstrous spider penetrated in the roots of the Trees, and spread to every branch, every bud and every leaf. The stalks began to get black, and leaves fell rotten to the ground. The branches shrank as scorched skin, and the trunks were twisted in pain.
Melkor licked his lips out of pleasure at the sight.
Once Ungoliant had sucked every drop of the Trees, she approached the wells of Varda and engulfed the light stored there as well.
At that moment, Melkor realized how extremely swollen and huge she had become. So much, that now he was quite a small thing compared to her.
He felt intimidated by that throbbing black mass, and decided to go away as fast as possible and leave her there. If the Valar wanted to punish the culprit, then they could punish her.
He was already going down the hill, when a sticky patch of darkness enveloped him.

-Where is the Dark Lord going in such a hurry, that he can’t bring Ungoliant with him?

Melkor trembled slightly, but didn’t allow the monster to perceive his cowardice.

-Nowhere, I'm going nowhere.

-Nowhere? Ungoliant has been there already. Better she accompanies thee.

The bloated mass slid downhill, still wrapping Melkor, and stuck so close to him, that he could feel the hungry growl of her guts against his ribs.
He had no choice but to take her to Formenos, where he planned to break in the house of Feänor to steal his beloved Silmarils.

Feänor was not there, fortunately for him, since he had gone to the festival with the Valar. Less fortunate, however, was his stubborn father.

-Get away from there, you foolish Elf. -roared Melkor when the king of the Noldor came between him and the door. - How dare you step in the way of Melkor, the Mighty Arising? Moreover seeing as you see that I bring with me the stuff of darkness itself. If you want to continue with your pathetic life, I suggest you to leave.

-Life is not so pleasing for me since my eldest son is in exile and has quarreled with his brothers. And I've already renounced the crown for him. I will renounce life as well, if necessary, before letting you inside to put your foul hands on his works. - and the Noldorin king drew a sword and looked at them with his head high, not taking his gray piercing eyes off the blackness that was about to engulf him. His face was incredibly sad, and yet very beautiful.
Melkor smiled with malice.

-A pity! In other occasion I would have taken a specimen as noble and interesting as you to my fortress in Angband, and you would have become my slave. But being things as they are, I think you would be nothing but a burden, so I’ll have to leave you here.- then he pulled the spear with which he had wounded the Trees and pointed it at the chest of the Elf. –Send my kind regards to Mandos, and tell him I send you as a gift for him. So he can’t say that I’m ungrateful.

Finwe step back trying to defend himself from the thrust, but he was no match for the Vala and with the first blow he fell dead, and lay on the threshold, still impaled on the spear.
Once inside, Melkor entertained Ungoliant with trinkets and jewels, so she could devour them while he searched for the object of his desire.

"Now I really hope Feänor isn’t wearing the Silmarils upon his forehead" he thought worried.

But this time fate was kind to him, and there they were, in the vault, kept in a small case. A shiver ran down his spine when he opened the box and run into the jewels, so close, within reach of his hand, begging him to seize their radiant beauty.
His heart beat furiously, and his breath quickened in the chest when he closed his hand around the jewels. Then, upon feeling the flame that lived inside the Silmarils stroking his fingers, and traveling through every nerve of his being, and touching him just in each exact spot, it was as if the pleasure that he had known in prison had burst inside him again, yet with much greater intensity.
But just as it had happened in prison, that pleasure also burned him.
Noticing this, Melkor cursed the jewels and threw them again into the case. The palm of his hand was blackened and ached horribly. At least he wouldn’t keep that body much longer, because with the latter wound added to the others, inhabiting it was already insufferable.

"Just a little longer, Melkor. Enough to make that stinking spider trust you and accompany you on the flight. The darkness that she spews will serve you well now. "

He grabbed the box with the burnt hand, and with the other took a bunch of random gems, before leaving the house.
Ungoliant was trying to eat the corpse of Finwe but Melkor kicked her before she managed to, and forced her to get going. The last thing he needed was seeing that abominable creature eating carrion.

This way, and always wrapped inside the suffocating shroud of Unlight, they fled from Eldamar and headed down the coast to the North, always North.
Cold began to increase in intensity and icy gusts lashed the deserted wastelands. In the end, the earth beneath their feet disappeared, and was replaced by a thick layer of cracking ice.

"The Helcaraxë. Wouldn’t it be great if that spider broke the ice under the weight of her enormous belly and sank, not to be seen anymore? " thought Melkor, looking askance at her with scorn.

He didn’t know why he hated her so much. In theory, he should have liked her: there was nothing darker than Ungoliant’s webs. The problem was that this darkness had something ... something primal, or unnatural. Something that reminded him of the Void at which he had looked during the creation of Arda. And that disturbed him.
Also, he felt the stare of those bulging eyes over him all the time, measuring him, examining him. And he heard her slurping and snapping the jaws from time to time.
All the while, the Silmarils kept piercing his skin, and at one point the pain became so intense that a groan escaped his lips.

- What happens to the Dark Lord? - gurgled his companion then- Has he touched something too bright perchance, and now it’s burning him? Like a moth to a flame, isn’t it? Ungoliant has seen what happens with moths. Ungoliant knows what spiders “do” with moths.

Melkor was tempted to break the ice himself, at that same moment, but the coast of Beleriand was already visible in the distance and he restrained.
After a while of walking at top speed, even the Iron Mountains could be seen there in the North, and behind them the black fumes of his home, of his fortress of Angband.
He had wanted so much to see again his beloved iron bastions, and his moats full of stakes, and the fire pits! The fact that there was smoke rising was a good sign. It meant that there was still activity within its walls.
Either that, or the savage orcs used it to make bonfires ... Or Sauron had set fire to it, hopeless after seeing that his master didn’t return.
Melkor thought it was the best time to get rid of his annoying companion. He decided to grow in size, become a giant mountain crowned by ice or fire, and crush her right there.
But when he made the attempt, he realized he couldn’t.
Concern seized him, but he tried again and closed his eyes, picturing vividly all the details of his new form. He opened them. And nothing. He still had the same limbs and the same body, small in comparison with her.
Now concern became anguish. Why couldn’t he change form, what was happening? Was he condemned to remain forever inside that stained and miserable body? Was this some kind of punishment for destroying the Trees? Or is it that the accursed spider, in her voracity, had devoured part of his powers without him even realizing it?
Melkor shook those thoughts from his head. No, it couldn’t be that, that scene was too grim to be true. No doubt this was just a temporary disability due to exhaustion. As soon as he recovered, everything would return to normal. Also, they were so close to Angband now, that he could shake off the spider and run to the fortress.
However, a huge shadow rose above him, in his way of escape. Looking up, he met the mountain of bulbous flesh that had become Ungoliant.

- Where goes the Dark Lord again, always trying to sneak? Ungoliant wants her share, as the Lord promised her! With both hands.

Melkor let a curse slip through his teeth, but he had no choice but giving her the gems he had stolen, one by one. When the last of the jewels disappeared into the maw of the monster, Melkor ordered her to depart, for he had kept his promise. But Ungoliant didn’t move.

-With both hands, said the Dark Lord, but only with one has he rewarded Ungoliant. And she wonders, what has the Lord in the other hand? - the pincer of one of her legs brushed Melkor’s closed hand, and he stepped back, but stood firm.

-What I have on the other hand is not of your concern, you sack of poison, and I won’t give it to you! You have already eaten more than you deserved. Now get out of my sight, or you will regret it!

A laugh echoed through the guts of the monster, and she drew even closer.

-Ungoliant wonders how tastes what the Dark Lord has in the hand ...

-Tastes of fire! If you swallow it, it will burn your filthy bowels. It will make a hole in your belly and you will turn into a deflated skin.

-In that case, Ungoliant wonders ... how tastes the Dark Lord? - the cluster of eyes gave off a glint of lascivious gluttony, and the rest happened very fast.

Somehow and all of a sudden, Melkor found himself wrapped in the sticky nets of the spider and fell to the ground.
Two pincers pinned his wrists against the ground, and two other pincers grabbed him by the ankles, spreading his limbs in a cross. Melkor squirmed, now really terrified, but still clenched in his hand the Silmarils. Green slime dripped from the jaws of the spider on his face, and the black fumes she belched barely let him open his eyes.

-Yes ... That's better, stay still ... Much better ... Now let’s see what has the Dark Lord for Ungoliant down here... - and Melkor felt two hairy legs lifting his robe up to his neck. A nasty fluid oozed over his naked navel, and the monster’s eyeballs checked him from top to bottom, looking hungry. -Mmmm ... so pretty. Not much flesh, not much flesh indeed, but it looks delicious. Smells good ... sure it tastes good. Ungoliant will eat thy body first, and then whatever is inside. Yes, Ungoliant has never eaten a Vala. Must be delicious, delicious ...

Melkor closed his eyes when he saw the voracious maw opening over him.
So thus ended the Dark Lord: eaten by an abominable spider. This should be the empty place of which Mandos had spoken, the black hole of that stomach. Perhaps, if he had paid more attention to the music of the Ainur, he would have seen it coming. But that didn’t matter anymore.
At least he would die with his hand closed, and Ungoliant would swallow the Silmarils, yes, but he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing them.

"Eru must roar with laughter right now," he lamented, just as the jaws clenched his neck.

And then, among the blackness that enveloped him, he saw a burst of fire, and the spider jerked back, screaming in pain.
Flaming whips lacerated the flesh of the beast and opened deep cracks on her, through which the poison poured out. Badly injured and frightened, Ungoliant run away as fast as she could, leaving a trail of nauseating suppuration.
Melkor looked up confused, and saw Gothmog along his company of Balrogs, watching him with worried faces.
He should have been glad then, but instead he felt terribly embarrased.
He jumped to his feet and rearranged his clothes quickly, dusting himself off and trying to hide the scratches the spider had made him.

- What are ye doing here? – he asked with feigned calm, as if nothing had happened at all.

-Ummm ... We heard thee screaming, my Lord, and we assumed that thou wert in trouble. We came flying from Angband, hoping it wasn’t too late. – said Gothmog, lowering the head.

- Screaming? I haven’t screamed, stupid! – replied Melkor irritated.

The Balrogs exchanged meaningful glances with each other and Gothmog, somewhat shy, replied:

-Lord, the cry was heard throughout the region. It still reverberates in the mountains.

Two flares of anger appeared in the eyes of the Vala, and snatching the whip from the Balrog captain, he crossed his face with it.

- Silence, insolent!! The next time you dare to contradict me, you will pay with your life. Now take me to Angband!

Gothmog rubbed the black cheek, stunned by this outbreak of irrational rage from his master, but he just said:

-Of course, my Lord. Unfortunately, we haven’t prepared a worthy welcome for thee, because we didn’t know when thou wouldst return. But Sauron will be informed immediately, to take charge of the preparations. Something that, if thou allowest me, I think he should have done already, if he had been more sighted and had listened to my counsel.

- Yes, yes, yes! I'm not interested in your petty rivalries with Sauron. Take me to him, now!

And they got going, heading for the fortress. The burn produced by the Silmarils was already so deep, that Melkor could feel it in the bone. But still he didn’t open the hand, and didn’t let the Balrogs notice the pain that ate him inside. Nobody, NOBODY should ever know of the weaknesses of that body, or the wounds that he wore inside.
When he finally found himself facing the ominous gates of Angband, Melkor realized how little he wanted to meet his lieutenant Sauron.

"Not thus, not thus" he thought bitterly, as he crossed the portal and disappeared beneath the huge iron vaults.