The Crownless Queen by Tyelca

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Chapter 1

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She is old, though she does not exactly know how old; can one have an age when one was created before Time itself? It is a question she has been pondering for a while, not expecting to come to an answer. It was more out of a vague desire to pass the years of the world than out of any real philosophical interest. In truth Time meant little to her; she is not bound by its whims and that is enough to make its existence obsolete. Not hers, though; for she is ever there, waiting, wanting, needing.

She is also alone; the children she now and then produces are long since devoured in an attempt to still her endless hunger. Sometimes she allowed them to grow, to obtain a little more volume in the vain hope they would satiate her. A few of them she let grow too large and those eventually tried to run, but almost never did they escape her; she did not see the point in hunting down those few who did manage to get away.

She carried no name and did not care for one either; she did not interact with others and in that long ago when she did, she’d simply been addressed as She. That single syllable had been enough to lower the loudest voices and there were but a very few who did not cower at her presence. She had been content with the live she’d lived then, when the hunger wasn’t as all-consuming as it was now, but hadn’t mourned when everything came crashing down. She was many things, but not nostalgic and she held no concern for those who died in the Valar-led siege.

She lived now on a land south to their famed dwellings, where that awful light that blinded her could never reach, as she’d spun layers of darkness between the mountain peaks so that nothing could penetrate her lair. Sometimes she thought about how that enormous light could be extinguished and how maybe that would grant her a temporary respite from the terrifying emptiness that characterized her stomach. It was not hunger per se that she felt; for long before she took on a physical aspect did that emptiness drive her on. It was no coincidence that she’d chosen the shape she wore now; in the beginning, coordinating her many legs in an orderly manner had taken up a large part of her concentration, which left less mental capacity to lament her seeming insatiability. For a while it had worked, and marvelously at that; but she learned how to walk with dignity, how to run with speed, and soon she was forced to turn her mind to other pursuits. This eventually led her to seek out Melkor and offer her services, and he took her into his ranks.

For a time the tasks he’d assigned her left her with no time to contemplate her fate, but then he, the most powerful of all the Ainur, grew bored of her as she faded from his mind. This heralded a period in which she slowly lost her acclaimed position, though none of the respect she demanded be given to her. Others walked around her in wide circles and while she would be insulted, she was glad they remained out of reach for she could not honestly say she wouldn’t have snatched them and bitten their head off.

She could not deny her nature for long, though; Desire and Greed had been her Themes in the Music, and that was what she was; she couldn’t go against her very essence. Now and then she was reminded of when there was no Eä yet, when there had only been Eru and the Music. Ever had her chords rung with the dark, an entity completely separate from the mere absence of light. The Lights the Valar made blinded her slightly, and ever thicker did she weave the cloak of black that she carried around.

Then Utumno was besieged and eventually destroyed; she left long before the Valar entered, for she held no delusions of pity and redemption. All-devouring hunger was the only thing she saw in their hands. The Valar did not possess that thread of darkness, that core of Nothing that made up her being; they could not understand the starvation that was their mercy. So she fled, and waited, and when everyone was gone and ruins were all that was left of the once-proud fortress she made her reappearance. She had heard rumors that some of the Valar scoured the lands in search of Melkor’s servants, to round them up and offer them to their particular brand of justice. She held no intention of falling into their hands, so she made a plan. Like a shadow she followed the blazing trail the Valar left behind, consuming it and leaving only emptiness behind. She avoided the larger settlements they passed through, sneaking around and now and then snatching a lonely wanderer to ease her suffering.

This was the manner in which she eventually reached the lands across the Sea, and with great pain she left the trail she’d been following and turned south, her head averted from the burning light that was so much brighter here. Her cloak of black became a second skin, a reliable defense since she could not cover the world if she wanted to retain her secrecy. The mountains were high and treacherous, but where in the past her eight legs had given her trouble, now they were able of finding footholds in the steepest of cliffs and of carrying her weight across perilous paths.

Eventually the mountain range turned, opening up into a large and deserted land. Only a few thin rays of the burning light penetrated here, and she lifted her head and breathed in the cold air as she took in the terrain. Deciding to remain here, she set to work; sealing the gaps between the mountain peaks with her threads of darkness, she blocked out the remaining light until absolutely nothing reached her anymore.

She did not need her cloak anymore, but she’d spun it so tightly around herself that she was unable to pry it loose again. Inspired by her endless hunger, she bit off a piece, and another and another. She continued eating until the entire cloak was gone, and even then did she not stop. Her skin was thick, but no match for her fangs; tearing deep gashes in her hide, she felt the pain as a vague reflection of her hunger, and it was only due to a titanic effort of will that she retracted her teeth. Gasping she lay there until her wounds healed. When she found the strength to rise again even the scars had faded, but her ravenous hunger didn’t abate.

So she passed the years, a Queen of her barren land and a famine all unto herself, until one day she spied movement, or rather, a moving shadow. Since she had banned out all light, there were no shadows in her realm; everything was dark. One of her threads must have been broken. As she knew they were strong and endured, she came to the only right conclusion: someone must have cut it. Torn between intrigued and annoyed, she crept closer, not showing herself yet as she spied upon the intruder. A black silhouette against the single ray of silver light was the first thing she saw of him. His stature was in the same range as the Valar’s beloved Children, but a little taller than average; his shoulders were broad and his waist thin. His legs and feet, covered by heavy boots, were well-shaped as far as she could tell. She could not see his face; a curtain of thick black hair hid it from her view.

The trespasser moved with certainty and his step had a little swagger in it; the figure practically radiated confidence. But this all was very casual and understated, as if the person wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. It triggered many a memory, but she had no time for the past. She knew now who her intruder was.

She dropped down on his path, blocking the way. He didn’t even blink at her sudden appearance, instead naturally falling into a bow that was so low it was mocking. “Melkor,” she hissed even before he had straightened. “It has been a long time since you sought me out.” It was a statement as well as an accusation and a question, but he didn’t deign to answer. He studied her for a moment, and she took the opportunity to do the same to him; this shape was new to her. His skin was fair but pale, free of blemishes and his nose was sharp, giving his features an inquisitive expression. His mouth was thin and colorless, but the corners were turned slightly upwards. His brows were dark and slender above expressive black eyes that drew one in and wouldn’t let go. She did not make the mistake of looking into them. What Melkor for his part saw she couldn’t tell; his face betrayed nothing.

“I see the passing of Time has not affected you terribly,” Melkor said and his voice was cool. The pitch was a little higher than she remembered, but she knew every shape had its own advantages and limitations, and voice was a minor detail anyway. She shrugged in response, which came out as a coordinated contraction of all her eight legs. Melkor nonetheless correctly interpreted the gesture and his face clouded momentarily. With a slight wave of his hand he indicated the withered lands around them. “I take it this land has saturated your appetite?”

A stab of pain at the mention of food had her wince slightly, just enough to tip Melkor off. The corners of those lips lifted in an expression of amusement that did not reach his eyes. “I know a place of plenty, where food is freely distributed and none leave with an empty stomach.” He stopped, not revealing the location of this paradise unless she acknowledged his superior position.

“Where?” she asked simply.

By way of response he took a step aside so the single ray of light fell straight into her eyes. Intuitively she jumped back into the shadows, shielding her face with her spindly legs. Her jaws opened and closed of their own accord, trying to cut off the hurting brightness. A laugh penetrated the fog of pain. After a few moments the burn had soothed enough for her to glare at her former master, but Melkor didn’t seem impressed. Rather, a calculating intensity had stolen over him as his hands trailed over the strands of darkness that hung all around. “These are of your making?” he asked unnecessarily.

“Yes,” she said warily but with bite. “Hmm,” was all reaction Melkor gave her. Obviously he was not going to talk until he wanted to; she knew it was useless to force him to speak. So she allowed him to ignore her as he gazed out over her lands, took in their emptiness and desolation. He meandered a little further, touching her weavings and rubbing them between his thumb and index finger, as if appraising their quality. The darkness moved under his ministrations, curling like smoke, but didn’t disintegrate.

“So these are your Themes?” he asked suddenly, and she detected just a hint of disdain. “They aren’t yours?” she returned with exaggerated astonishment. He gave her a sweet smile that practically dripped venom but didn’t react otherwise. He had always been secretive about his Themes, not sharing what his Notes and Music implied, and she didn’t think he’d entrusted anybody with what should have been common knowledge. She wasn’t going to pry; it wasn’t her business anyway.

“I have a proposition for you,” Melkor said after he’d returned to where she was waiting. In his hands he carried a few of her strands, shimmering in their dark intensity against the pale skin. His fingers were long and thin and smooth, without scars or callouses to disfigure them. It seemed almost a sin those hands didn’t disintegrate under the physical evidence of her power, didn’t char and didn’t burn, but then again she knew he possessed much more strength than she could fathom.

“The Valar have imprisoned me,” he spat out the word, “for a long time, and now demand my absolute loyalty to their cause. There is little I wish more dearly than to inflict upon them the same horror they inflicted upon me, and therefore I intend to take what is most precious to them.” She wondered what they had taken that was most precious to Melkor, but she didn’t ask. She remembered his terrible wrath at everything he perceived as an attack upon his private sphere, and although she knew she was at an advantage here, she didn’t dare push him.

“What is most precious to them?” she asked, only partly to appease him; she was genuinely curious. Melkor’s eyes glinted and she had to check herself; don’t look into them, she reminded herself sternly. “Their Light,” Melkor smiled and it was full of malice. “Their Trees with their Light, that’s what’s most precious to them. Never mind the stories they tell themselves about how dear the Children are to them, of how their prowess and intellect is a delight. They are no more than playthings in the end; fun for a while but easily discarded and quickly forgotten. But their Light! Ever again have they recreated it, first Illuin and Ormal, now Laurelin and Telperion, and their obsession has not shown any sign of ending yet. This is a blow they will truly feel, and what is more, it will be to our benefit as well. Imagine! No more brightness to scar your skin, no more hiding in the shadows for all will be dark, and no more hunger for something we cannot have!” She listened attentively as Melkor got into his narrative; she could feel herself getting excited, agreeing with his words and had to fight the power of his persuasion. She hated their Light too, although it stemmed from envy rather than revenge.

“They will not leave it unguarded,” she remarked, fighting her willingness to leave all behind and follow Melkor to wherever he led. She drew upon her fear, upon the pain as the Light torched her, upon her memories of how quickly Melkor’s fancies passed. “The Valar are not to be trifled with; I do not intend to fall into their hands.”

Melkor drew close, not at all repulsed by her frightening appearance. “You know the strength of that Light, the intensity and the sheer amount that leaves the Trees, every moment again.” He was almost whispering. “Imagine all that power, concentrated inside. Should it not be enough to finally sate you? To finally be free of that eternal hunger, that damned emptiness that turns your very existence into unending torture, is any risk too great, any price too high to pay?”

“But they will be looking for you,” she objected but her resolve was weakening. Melkor knew it too. “They are looking for me in the north; I do not think they even suspect I might have turned south. With their forces spread thin and your darkness to give us cover, they will never see us coming.” Seeing she teetered on the brink, he added, “And if, even after you’ve taken the Trees and their Light, you still feel empty inside, I shall give you anything you desire, with both hands to show my gratitude.” She risked a glance at his face; a soft, intimate smile ruled there, all comfort and not a trace of the malice she knew those lips could display.

“With both hands?” she asked.

“With both hands,” Melkor affirmed. He looked at her face, smile fixed in place, and she knew it was at least partly genuine; Melkor was a master actor, but the best lies were built on truth and he had elevated it to a form of art. She hesitated for a few more moments, then gave in. “Alright,” she said, in she couldn’t deny the excitement that rushed through her veins at the prospect.

Melkor’s plan was simple: cross the mountains that separated them from the south of Valinor, assess the situation, and under cover of her darkness they would sneak towards the Ezellohar and destroy the Light that grew there. What to do afterwards Melkor didn’t say and she didn’t press; events rarely followed plans anyway.

The immediately went to work: retracing Melkor’s steps, they climbed up the high mountains that separated her empty lands from Valinor’s rich fields and thick woods. Melkor did not speak much, she supposed he was lost in thoughts she couldn’t begin to guess at. He stared ahead, trying to catch glimpses of their goal, but she had spun another cloak of Darkness around them and in it all light was lost. They soon came to a tall cliff that rose straight ahead and stopped to observe this first obstacle. It was impossible to scale for Melkor in his current shape, and stating he was fond of the body Melkor flat out refused to shift into something else. This left her having to scale the height alone, finding more grip with her eight legs than he could possibly have with his four limbs. Her balance was such that she reached the top without toppling over, but the second she raised her head between the mountain peaks she wished she had never agreed to this venture. Her tapestry of darkness did not reach this far, and the Trees, while far away, were unobstructed. The Light she needed to devour scorched her shadow-cloak, she quickly wove another three layers until all she could feel was an uncomfortable heat. Only then did she look back down, where Melkor still stood waiting. From up here his statue was small and, it seemed to her, easily crushed. A fleeting moment she entertained the though of leaving him there and going to the Light alone, but she knew she needed his expertise to cross the lands in between. And betrayal wasn’t really her thing, anyway.

So she set to work: long tendrils of darkness she spun, weaving them together tightly in a pattern that slowly became recognizable as a ladder. When she was done she attached one end to the mountain peak and threw the other end down into the abyss. Almost immediately she saw the ropes pull tight and waited until Melkor had reached the top. She looked out over Valinor, the vast greenery below and a golden shimmer in the west. But it was towards the north that her gaze was drawn, where the gold and silver Light shone brightest. In the void that was her digestive system the nothingness roared, urging her to take it, consume it, until nothing was left. But she controlled herself; “Not yet,” she whispered out loud.

“What did you say?” Melkor’s voice sounded behind her. She jumped around to see his face appear above the edge of the cliff. “Not yet what?” Melkor repeated, staring her down as he climbed the upper rods of the ladder. “Nothing,” she hissed, which was both an answer and a denial. Melkor didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the issue, partly because he had just caught sight of the view and in his distraction didn’t think it worth the effort to continue questioning her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Melkor breathed as he looked out over Valinor. “From up here I can almost understand why they care so much about their Light; why its loss would devastate them…” He had again that glint in his eye, that told of things he knew that she didn’t, and she wanted to know what he kept hidden from her. But Melkor already soared forwards, towards the bright green lands of the Valar, and she had no choice but to follow wherever he led her. With the speed of the Ainur they traveled through forests, passed rivers and traversed mountains, and everywhere they came she left her webs of darkness, her anti-Theme. When they were almost in Valmar where the Trees were rooted, Melkor stopped and looked at the trail she’d made. For a moment he stared, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes out first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”

“What was that?” she asked after it became apparent more was not forthcoming. Melkor slowly turned towards her. “Just a little something,” he brushed it off, but she could see it was more than that. “The Dark,” she said. “My darkness. Even before you came to me you knew what it was, what it entailed. What has gotten into you now?” Melkor shrugged but didn’t answer. “Let’s go,” he only said. She followed.

Valmar was completely deserted, just as Melkor had predicted. They were so close now that she couldn’t even see the Trees anymore, just an all-compassing golden Light with just the barest hints of silver. The colors were dazzling and blinding and slowly burning away at her shadowcloak. She moved, impatient and unable to contain her hunger for much longer. The streets were paved and led straight to the Ezellohar hill. Then they stood on the hill, at the shore of a small lake that fed the enormous trunks and where, so told Melkor, Varda collected her stardew. From up close the Light was too intense for her, too incapacitating to do anything but sink to the ground and hope it would leave. Even her darkness was no match for this. She felt Melkor’s glare at her weakness, heard his frustrated sigh but could not focus. Then a replacement of air, a tearing sound, and suddenly the Light lost just a little bit of its power. Groaning she stood, her will and pride pushing her forward. Another minute diminishing of the Light, and then she smelt it. She was unable to describe that scent, except that it was the most delicious thing she’d ever encountered. Before she was well aware of it, her mouth clutched the ground where drops of that ambrosia were carelessly splattered around. Then when the ground was clean and turned a sickly grey where she’d touched it, she turned around and beheld the Two Trees, a perfect mix between silver and gold, bleeding out as Melkor continued to spear them.

Her eyes burned but she went closer, attracted by that powerful smell that leaked out of the bark. Like an infant seeking its mother her teeth found the wounds. She sucked down hard and for a few short moments the devastating emptiness inside her vanished and she knew how it felt to be sated. Then the stream of juice stopped and she was back in the real world. But there was another Tree; as she sped towards it she didn’t even notice how the Light didn’t burn her anymore or how large her limbs had grown, or the inquisitive look with which Melkor examined her. Again she knew pure bliss, and again it ended much too soon. Only when she had to admit to herself that this second Tree was, too, completely dry inside did she loosen her jaws. She needed a few moments to orient herself as she discovered her body had grown immensely with the power of the Light inside. Again she reflected how small Melkor looked from up high, but he did not look at her. Instead he was inspecting what was left of the Trees: grey bark, rotten leaves and branches that dipped low. She ignored him; her feast had left her thirsty and her eye had fallen on the lake at her feet. With effort she sank down, put her head in the water and drank. It held just a faint taste of the Trees, but she took all that she could, and when she was done the lake was empty. She rose again to the sight of Melkor waiting impatiently. Instead of menacing her new perspective made him now only comical.

“Are you quite finished?” he asked. She answered and affirmative. “Then come now. We need to leave before the Valar come.” The idea of the Valar was a lot less scary, somehow, but a look around told her the entire hill was covered in her darkness and the sky was empty of stars, so reluctantly she agreed to escort Melkor as they continued their way north.

“Where do we go now?” she asked him as they descended the Ezellohar. “To the Furthermost North,” he replied tersely, “where the everlasting Ice bridges the Sea. There we can cross over to Beleriand undetected.” While they were speaking she continued emitting her black fumes and soon the entire land was covered in them. Melkor kept some distance between them, citing that he did not need to remain close to her anymore. She became suspicious, especially when he later suggested they split up, citing he had still some unfinished business in Valinor. When pressed, he refused to explain. She allowed him to go then, and watched as he disappeared in the dark.

But she followed him in secret, for the fog of Darkness hung everywhere and she could move stealthily and fast. She easily picked up Melkor’s trail; despite having been called the Dark Lord his imprint in reality was surprisingly bright. He went north and east, to a place far away from the Eldarin cities, and she soon saw why: a tall fortress stood on a hill, looking out over the wide surroundings, and it was towards the main gate that Melkor sped. A camp had been erected further east, in the foothills of the Pelóri mountains where her darkness didn’t yet reach, but this Melkor ignored. From the corner of one of her many eyes she saw many an Elf, organized in a strict hierarchy and brandishing weapons and holding burning torches, most likely fled from the lonely fortress.

Melkor threw open the gate and she watched as a single Eldar met him, face proud but otherwise smooth and a double-handed sword hung loosely in its sheath. He blocked Melkor’s way. Interested, she chose not to intervene and watched as the Eldar and Melkor exchanged some words she didn’t catch. It wasn’t long before the Eldar drew his sword and she noted with some surprise his skill wasn’t half-bad. Even from a distance she could see Melkor laugh as he attacked, unarmed, and within seconds the Eldar’s corpse hit the floor. Melkor stepped over it, seemingly having already forgotten the murder. Walls then prevented her sight, but it wasn’t long before he reemerged, carrying uncountable jewels in his arms. He then angled northward again, towards the spot he’d told her to meet.

She took another, straighter route and arrived well before him, pretending to wait impatiently until he arrived. She took note of what he carried and acted in surprise before admonishing him for taking his time, and while annoyed, Melkor seemed not to suspect a thing. She watched him as they fled further, as she again climbed up the Pelóri mountain range and again fashioned a rope ladder from her weavings. She studied how he heisted his treasure with him, not leaving one single gem behind and obsessively counting and recounting each. When he’d finally joined her he again looked back, and saw that Valinor was now hidden by her Darkness, like a thick blanket covering the land. She felt satisfaction and pride, knowing that she had done that, had destroyed their Light and taken her revenge. But streaks of fire interrupted her musing, and Melkor stated grimly, “Náhar, Oromë’s steed. They are coming.” These words carried an unknown gravity and without answering she turned around, to the northern land of Araman, as Melkor had told her. Grey mist floated the grounds like Darkness did behind them, but both she and Melkor paid it no heed as they raced onward.

For a long time they went north, and it became colder and colder until the grey mist turned into ice and the entire land was white. That was when Melkor laughed and said, “We did it. Here the Valar won’t come; the Ice is not far now.” And he turned east and soon the world faded to white, black and blue. The Ice was cruel and smooth, and many times did Melkor stumble and she had to wait until he’d collected all his treasures again. In the meantime the delicious fullness of the Trees began to fade, and the ever-growing void in her belly seemed even more horrible in their absence. She heard it expand, a sound that echoed far and wide but ever returned to her ears. It was terrible and her mood didn’t improve.

An eternity must have passed before the land regained a little bit more color and the cold lessened somewhat. Vague forms that could be mountains took shape in the distance and the aggressive silent monotone fell away as they reentered the natural world. She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached cold, hard solid rock again and even Melkor couldn’t suppress a shiver as he practically fell down, his lips touching the ground. “Home,” she heard him mumble but didn’t pay him any further attention. Her mind was focused on the fact that he knew these lands better than she, and that this was where he would try to make his escape. For although he tried to hide it, she had noticed his horrified stares as he looked upon her, the disgust that was now openly etched on his face. The rage when he looked at her darkness. But he made no move yet, so she did neither.

Their flight had now taken a more relaxed pace, not running anymore but simply traveling south. As Araman had turned colder and whiter, now it became warmer again and browns and greens returned to the palette of the world. Soon they reached familiar terrain, and she knew one of the Ancient Fortresses was not far. A single glance down at Melkor confirmed he knew it too. There was a spark in his eyes, a spark that told her this was where he would try to get away. But she would not let him.

With two of her legs she pinned him down and though he struggled, Melkor did not get free. “Fiend!” she raged as he desperately clutched the jewels close. “I kept my promise. I did what you asked me to do. Yet still my hunger gnaws inside.”
Melkor rose a disbelieving eyebrow that managed to convey his incredulity, his anger, his exasperation and his annoyance all at once. “What ever more do you want then? I gave you the Trees, I gave you the Valar’s greatest pride and power, I even gave you my revenge! Is that not enough for you? Will nothing less than the entire world satisfy you?” He twisted in her hold, trying to break free, but she held him. His face contorted as she saw Melkor working himself up into one of his rare but infamous moods of absolute fury. “I did not promise you the world; I kept my word and offered you everything you deserved, and more. But Arda you shall not have; Arda is my mistress and I am her Lord, and I shall not see her disappear into your bowels!”

She leaned in, not at all impressed by his words but prepared to listen to them. “I do not wish the world,” she hissed in his face. “But you brought a great treasure from Valinor, and I want it. All of it.”

At first Melkor refused. His face flashed and there were cracks in the form he wore, and a hint of the terrible Lord, the Greatest of the Ainu, shone through. He hugged his gems and his jewels close but she waited patiently until he accepted she was not going to back down. Then he reached inside, producing a single bright green stone, and offered it to her. She greedily sucked it up. “You promised to give it to me with both hands,” she reminded him with sardonic pleasure. Melkor screamed in pure anger but nonetheless again reached for a gem. This was beautiful piece fashioned from silver, and this one too was quickly consumed. This continued for a while, that hint of fulfillment making her go on, forcing Melkor to release everything he had.

Then the gems and jewels were gone. She had grown again and looked even further down at her captive. “You only gave me with your left hand,” she said, “while you promised to open both hands. Now open your right hand for me.”

But this command seemed to much for Melkor, as his eyes suddenly burned and she couldn’t help but look into them. She was tempted, seduced, fallen, threatened, murdered and returned to life again before she regained control. Her grip on Melkor’s limbs had lessened and she was certain that a few more moments would have been enough for Melkor to free himself.

“No,” he said, very softly. There was an edge to his voice that made her shudder, that warned her to retreat now, while she still could, but her mind said she had him now, in her mercy, and she could have all he ever took from her. But Melkor wasn’t finished yet. “You have gotten your due and more than that. For it was my power that allowed you to become this strong, it was under my command that you operated. Now your work has been completed and I do not need you any longer. These things I carry are for my eyes alone and you shall not see them, for I declare them to be mine forever.”

She now saw that threats would not make him cooperate, but she knew her darkness was now something he feared, and that brought her to an idea. She spun her threads of shadow, cloaking not only herself but Melkor too in them, and ever more and ever tighter did her ropes bind him, until all his breath was expelled from his lungs. In all history never had an Ainur been killed in a physical body; she wondered if this would be enough to truly kill him. His eyes closed, his mouth opened and his tongue lolled out. But then a sound, louder than any she’d heard before, filled her ears. She used two legs to cover her face and tried to repel the sound by her darkness, but it didn’t abate. The ground shook between her feet and cracks appeared in the mountains. It was only then that she realized the sound came from beneath her, from the figure of Melkor whose body had fallen limp. Though the echoes on the Ice had been difficult to endure, this was a thousand times worse. The mountains reflected the sound time and time again, doubling the volume every time. She went mad.

With a sudden pull she tightened her strings and the sound was cut off. Where she expected blessed silence, however, the scream continued on and on and she wanted to strange Melkor all over again.

She was about to pry open Melkor’s right hand and take what was hers when something else cut through the cacophony. It was deep and swishy and sounded like a hurricane, although the sky was clear. She looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of this new noise, but for a long while she didn’t spy anything out of the ordinary. It was almost too late when she looked up and saw an army of black-winged creatures descend, fiery whips in hand. She emitted her Darkness, intending to cut them off from each other and finish them one by one, but her plan failed. The whips of fire effortlessly cut through her carefully woven threads and soon Melkor was lose. He sat up, coughing and clawing at his throat, but alive. He again laid his terrible eyes on her, and she fled before his gaze.

The Dark was her ally, but for a long time those whips wiped away whatever cover she created. Then in the distance she heard Melkor speak and the Balrogs retreated; and she ran away as fast as her eight legs could carry, ever in the shadow of the mountains, ever out of sight. She rested only when she found her strength abate and she inspected the wounds from where some of the whips had hit her. The scorches weren’t deep and would not take long to heal, but they would scar and there was nothing she could do about it.

She found a dark hole in a dark land where she made a new lair, and she layered it in her blackness. Thoughts about revenge dominated her mind, of how Melkor cheated his way out of her debt and her endless desire dominated the rest of her as she returned to a life of loneliness and fasting. Now and then a living soul dared to traverse her lands, and she took that person and swallowed him whole, but those instances were few and far between. She stayed there until she had enough of it and went away, but ever did she eat, and ever was Melkor on her mind. And in the gloom of her heart, he consumed her.

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Chapter End Notes

The riddle, obviously, comes from the riddle game between Bilbo and Gollum in The Hobbit. I just thought it fit really well in here.