Eä's Redemption

by AaronSecret

The Flame Imperishable

The Flame Imperishable is Immortal.

Ever shifting and evasive but the Centre.

It is The Law within three Circles Verbal,

intersected, causing Life of the Inventor.

"Let there be Light!"

uttered The Father, our God.

The Word through his Might,

he birthed as his Son; his Thought

flew as breath past Creation,

advocating righteous traits,

for those who fall in damnation,

he'd represent; eternity awaits.

"Aum" as low as ocean's water

underneath the blackness' cloak,

chants the manna's alma mater,

the Cube took shape; thrice Life awoke.

Shifting the Flame from a single dot,

the mouth emits eternal Voice,

Atum is spinning in "I AM" Orbital Chariot,

while the Law binds your choice.

Ever transcendental and uniform,

beyond the corridors of Time and Space,

Sabaoth wanted to shape the form...

but alone? Single ruler of the place?

No. He takes no joy in usurping...

nor in centralised creative lacks...

to enrich means to share the spring,

as well as the unmanifested black.

The plane of creational dynamics.

The matrix of pitch darkness was a void.

A type of power that confused some kids,

it was rather geometry than evil spoilt.

Sabaoth observed with dearest love....

the Cube of Life, the tree of Sephiroth emersed.

On his shoulder his second son, the dove,

El's originator only uttered through the Son the first.

What did he need to guarantee Creation?

He needed common Co-Creators to take part...

to shape the forms and to observe with patience...

diligent, tested, through initiation path.. So Start!

"Eru the Iluvatar, Vieni!"

And the Maha Elohim came forth.

"Create, Coordinate, in Law be!

Protect, and have no other God in Faith."

"Thou shall be the Arch-Elohim!"

Thus voicing him the Builders' Demiurge.

bequeathеd to him Ten Commandments within...

And gave way to Eru's newborn urge.

Eru was gifted Absolute Oneness,

despite the Trinity's ever honoured distance,

his Name in Unitarity would encompass

the First architectonic existence.

His realm the separating plane.

As above, so was below.

The vertical matrix was the same,

an Animus with artistry to sow.

The coordinate system would be a cross,

to launch symmetrical lines.

Eru, the Avatar of responsibility across

all the spheres and the confines.

He stood in silence, pre-uttering triumph,

the Builders' seeds in the mind of the One,

Cosmos of Stars and atomic patterns in Aeons

of stillness until the midpoint time'd commence.

Rigorous, he raised his arm at steady pace,

in parallel with the ground below him,

Designers' pre-hearts trembled at his face of Fate,

and suddenly! He erupted to win.

"Eä!" reveberated his Voice,

filling the blankness of white,

black was the void ever devoid,

somehow there, yet outside.

His arm now aimed upwards

to his faithful promise immortal.

In spheres circled new stars,

and The Universe got fertile.

Omnipresent in his Oneness,

all was nothing as of beyond;

The Elohim souls were but a zest

of spherical codes and a bond.

Melodious unison of magical gleams,

the Ray from the centre erupted,

Deus X as to delineate the circular dreams,

Geometry with enrichment instructed.

He was lonely throughout Preexistence,

part of his Layout, in Patient Timing,

so he Created his Family and Friends,

their DNA, devout, of adamantine launching!

"Let there be Ainur!" They were Perfection,

the Immaculate Complement of Eru's thought,

Iluvatar, in love and speechless: "Direction!"

acquainting each with their element bethought.

The Ainur's Acoustic Adjustment

How could it possibly be conveyed

how gratitude of first breath thrilled;

eyes unlocked the soul's own faith

that itself slowly inspired revealed.

Coming into being for the first time.

Despite the homogenous past

where nothingness was entwined

with the Flame's immortal blast.

A bit of a pain, wasn't it?

To become a spark of a monad.

For birth would also permit

nostalgia of oblivion in God.

The first thought of the I AM,

a diamond descending double spirals,

while past's nothingness was... hm?

first time alive, forgetting the arrival.

The shape was an illusion of sinking

deep into dimensions where forms

were the fate of the Avatar unblinking,

yet estranged of immutable norms.

Their souls the size of a dragonfly,

so delicate, provoking pity and mercy,

for when you overpowered the tiniest guy,

their immortality became priority per se.

Such a small orb of concentrated force,

of their childhood of awakening maturing,

and whenever they'd open Ea's doors,

they shouldn't be pushy but enduring.

For Eru granted them his own design,

to each a piece of elemental impetus,

and once they'd learn how to combine

the effort of their piece of mind and trust,

they'd be the Rulers of the World,

its Primordial Forces and Collective Driver,

yet... new eyes... what have I heard?

Ages would pass by until they'd decipher.

Each fatigue to reach out

would make them cooperatively skilled,

fragile, never rushed or too loud,

yet obfuscated sight in waves instilled

imperceptible submersion so aquatic

of sound waves interference,

each attempt to listen was empathic,

until at one point ~ new bodily coherence.

This is how they swayed in transparency,

in some etheric state of airlike sleep,

sharp thoughts and astral visions in sea

of celestial telepathy, into the deep.

Their common harmony grew,

as they sang in tolerant transmissions,

and then it took place. The dew!

... And Eru gathered them for their mission.

The Great Music of Creation

Hence, the Mighty Ainur gathered.

The hierarchy building the forms.

What was the idea of their Father?

They were silent, gathered, uniform.

Hearts trembling with divine inspiration,

expectations without rushed shapes,

they knew no disappointing divination,

just the Aumic sound, God's pace.

Eru Iluvatar, an authority to listen,

knew their hearts and their fate,

yet choices and willpower's decision

shape the scenarios that nucleate.

He raised his two arms to the sky,

shaping the arc of the rainbow,

and the Void swirled its eternal night,

in the act of manifesting vow.

Love was what they'd hold

in their threefold Flame of Heart.

Suddenly, his Music echoed

and All would immediately start.

Eru's Melody entwined in might,

grace and magic unheard of before;

starting in glory, ending in light,

they bowed silent, aweing his Lore.

Eru uttered his commandment:

"The Melody I gave for you to fathom,

so the Music Great now jointly Create.

The Flame Imperishable acts from

your centre's point of stillness. Actuate!"

The Great Music of Creation (continuation)

(...)

The Ainur gathered in a choir,

each a master of a Sound,

some sang deeper, some did higher,

to the Choice of Music Bound.

For they uttered their Music,

the Symphony of Life in Colour.

they Filled the Void with Cubic

expressions of an inner Lore.

The Emptiness ceased to be devoid.

Now it was alive and emanating,

echoing fractals unveiling in Astroids,

Sacred Geometry Circles creating.

The Glory of their Song was Hailing

before Eru, their Father of the Form.

Never after was heard such a captivating

story to be told; yet, it's worth the waiting.

For in aeons, Second Music would be born.

There was the Ainur Melkor,

who was the mightiest in Elohim potential

among his kindred, yet his core

was lured to try a forbidden sequential.

He brought discord to the Piece of Art.

Lower in pitch, deeper yet a noise,

distorting with delays of seconds, a warp,

a vortex birthing diabolic choice.

"Zacheem ya zdhuu zvonkaa...", unnerved,

as a cave's reverberation, but of a drill,

it got prolonged, then brisk, then curved,

unrealistic, sad, or even equal to Eru's Will;

Confused in blasphemous infernal chaos,

seemingly Melkor's dualism balanced the shape.

The lesser deemed righteous his cause,

yet it was a mere lesson, lest a mortal grave.

For all would lead to the Creator,

the Father that Holds Forever the Flame;

all surveilled by the Immortal Reaper

of the Law so Strict ~ in the Hall of Pain.

Glorious souls fell shamelessly from the sky,

their birthright of life and choice did not endure

the trial of Mercy's initiation against the lie

of scenery's costumes, filled with mere lures.

Sad but true. Deus Ex Machina

comes at the End of Time to lift the decor.

"you reap what you sow" and nostalgia

is what's left when the Law opens its Door.

(...)

The Great Music of Creation (next continuation)

In a clash of wrath that disobeyed

and unholiest display of power,

Melkor, in the dawn of early decay,

was rather deluded like a coward.

Angrily, the Ainur lost his vision,

passionate about his part,

he forgot it was Divinest Reason

that determined the heart.

Melkor tried so desperate to win.

The first ignition of eternal hatred,

yet is was a lesson, original sin,

for all would return to the Sacred.

So the first attempt was chatter,

prolonging the tones of the song,

yet every time he tried to alter

it, his deepening went wrong.

For every time his fellow spirits

fell for the sake of his verbal abuse,

they indeed failed challenged wits,

yet was it Melkor's idea or whose?

The throne of Eru shattered imperious,

when Melkor deviated once again.

His forgiving face was absolutely serious,

predicting their prolonged and utter pain.

And when Melkor thrice misused,

he got smashed by Thrinitary Law,

for Ero was One and Melkor accused,

Judged by the atom's own know-how.

The Iluvatar stood up with authority,

with a friendly smile like the Father he was,

he raised his hand upward with seniority,

and All Life knew that only He could cause.

Melkor rebelled like an electric guitar,

sowing discord among all known sounds,

rather like a shriek of death at war,

or a prisoner with electrocuted wounds.

He soared like a vortex in the ocean,

deepest sound yet ending in vain,

and whilst he was dying in that motion,

Eru poured him with some rain,

straight into the substance Melkor had borrowed,

as if to show him all Life began in his Flame,

Melkor struggled like there was no tomorrow,

yet Eru simply resonated, ending his bane.

Eru then uttered the Ultimate Music,

the only one capable of newer notes,

Whoever heard it, never got used to it,

its profundity - a meaningful antidote.

Undeniable jurisdiction, indeed.

Nothing could happen, lest he allowed it.

And all - to satiate Eru's need

for Creative development: never without it.

Would it matter, if we didn't progress?

Yet even Melkor at pain in the trials,

for if we listen, it always manifests

in harmony, yet our deeds are biased.

The angels who fell back then,

all the Elohim of forms,

would regain - but the pain?

Let's listen, when he warns.

Eru, in his holiest command,

spoke without accepting excuse,

and all who were there to expand,

innerly knew all would be used,

for the greater glory of his good,

even the most vicious deeds,

the ones trapped in delusion sued,

yet for something he'd need.

And Eru Iluvatar uttered the word:

"Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.'" - Tolkien Quote

The Great Music of Creation (2 x next continuation)

(...) Chapter III. The Great Music of Creation (next continuation)

Fear grasped the Ainur's hearts,

mixed with unfathomable premonition;

they couldn't comprehend the source,

so full of incalculable precision.

They didn't try to force the insight;

they just trusted Eru's verdict.

The only one to start a fight

was Melkor, internally sick.

Their secrets were known to God.

He accepted them with patience.

A loving Father in his timely thought

that develops in rectification.

Melkor rebelled, Eru kept silent.

It was not the time of lectures.

The Creator, after their assignment,

let them observe their reflections.

Whatever they had Created,

now stood alive before them,

it was strictly activated

and they awed before their realms.

Vivid music, geometrical forms,

shaped the elemental kingdom,

four elements controlling the dome,

where the Golden Ratio took forms.

Embryos, respiration, blood,

every atom, molecule and shell,

shaped Arda's kingdom loved,

the Gift of Life for every cell.

The ocean hitting primordial shores,

the rock in lava gushes forming,

the air equal to life's own force,

fire immortalising by warming,

Every Elohim stood and rejoiced,

yet slightly melancholic within,

for all perceived the horror of noise,

for pain was yet to cleanse the sin.

Eru called them to the Void,

the Matter that Manifests.

Suddenly! Life's birth Ovoid

took care of all the rest.

Melkor, in anger falling apart,

usurping Creational power,

was conspiring how to thwart

his brethren's beautiful flowers.

Yet life is an ecosystem,

that always fixes the math,

which solves every problem,

chaos - a driving force, a path.

Eru smirked, though sad a bit,

for the suffering of fragile creatures

always a priority of mercy's shield,

yet inevitable due to breaches.

He let them observe for a while,

then he uttered the meaning,

in the background Melkor hostile,

the rest were evergreening:

"Behold your Music! This is your minstrelsy; and each of you shall find contained herein, amid the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised or added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt perceive that they are but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory." - J.R.R Tolkien quote

The Children of Eru Ilúvatar

The scenery was compressed

in the Ainur third eye's wisdom;

as they didn't know the rest,

save for their part in prisms.

They possessed the gift

to know the distant ages;

least Eru would insist

to hide some secret stages.

They were hopeful as spirits,

creative guardians of oath,

suddenly noticing the merits

of Eru's own accord of growth.

Self-mesmerised audition

had missed out on the Music

of the pure loved apparition

of Eru's Children cubic.

Eru's Third Song dateless,

had forged them into life,

firstborn Elves, the fadeless,

Later Mankind meant to die.

For all the glory of the Elven race,

light infused in eternalised flesh,

soul maturing in the endless days,

based on moral choices to progress.

Devoted to arts and guardianship,

perfectly balanced with nature,

evolving within, through hardships,

save death punishes the impatient.

As for the humans, the little ones,

made of mud and blood, spirit and soul,

destined to disintegrate to bones,

they had rebirth to achieve their goal.

Karmic circulation versus stagnation.

Tabula rasa, memories that ever-last.

Innocent ignorance falls in temptation,

yet those accumulating rot so fast.

Wisdom of days may lead to growth,

yet the freedom of Self is to shift,

for it is a weight to be young yet old,

while to change DNA means a gift.

Where did Eru plan to nest them?

In a planet so unnoticeable yet worth while.

Dense, between stars, the smallest realm,

yet love for details means care for all life.

Arda was the name of the globe.

Where the ocean was a reservoir

of Creational Music, the grid control,

singing unknown sounds evermore.

From the shores, the ocean's a riddle,

the air breathable's the access to revival,

the Earth so solid, a molecule-solidifier,

while Imperishable, Fire ignites it all.

Ea!

The Ainur were in love with Arda.

The elemental world of their song.

Nested in the cosmic hair of Varda,

with their rights and their wrongs.

They marvelled at the sea roars,

its depths chanting mysteries of Life,

the grid balancing the planet's doors,

from whatever would with destiny arrive.

Each Ainur to their specialty;

Manwe the Fair loving the Air.

Ulmo with his watery loyalty,

Aule generous, for Earth is bare.

Melkor's attempts to ruin their watch

were rooted in consuming fire.

Yet the water remained untouched,

free from corruption that conspired.

Gravitation swirled the oceans

in its bank within the soil of Earth,

yet Ulmo loved the air's motions,

so liquid evaporation was brought forth.

Clouds started circulating in the sky.

Eternal oath between two brothers,

Manwe and Ulmo protecting from stimuli

of unwise powers, yet still from the Father.

Aule was curious and gifted with wisdom,

almost competitive to Melkor's prominence.

Yet he was lighthearted and took pride in

the beauty of creation, not dominance.

While the Ainur were full of hope and joy,

and Melkor was failing to conquer the sea,

all of the Vision disappeared without noise,

and suddenly Eru uttered: "Ea! To Be!"

Life took shape, beyond imagination.

The Ainur were able to tell the difference.

It was so real and alive, through rotation.

Yet still void and to-be-built through diligence.

Some of the Ainur still live at Eru's side together,

beyond the borders of created world.

Yet some committed to remain in Arda forever,

became known as the Valar; for they served.

Loyal to the execution of the plan,

always on vigil, always alert and creative,

they pledged to never abandon Arda, the One,

a Hierarchy of Light, the Locals Protective.

Ea! (continuation)

The Valar entered in Ea,

so confused and wonderstruck.

For nothing could be seen there,

Time swished the first line on the clock.

They had been creating their Carols,

in the Drafts beyond, the Timeless Hall.

The Dawn of Hours launched its spiral,

the beginning that marked it All.

The world was just a shadow and a song,

they started patiently constructing it,

for rhythm develops progressive among

epochs forlorn now, in effort collective.

Unknown substances, faint remembrance.

All but a spark of memories subconscious.

Finally the Valar reached the resemblance

of a Home for Eru's Children, their promise.

Manwe, Aule and Ulmo,

the architects-in-chief

perfected every detail with hope,

with faith and absolute belief.

Melkor was decaying in vice,

in avidity craving the realm's belt,

to dominate it, deluded, unwise,

despite his gift still innately dwelt.

"This shall be my kingdom,

my name shall it bear,

and all of it will be a dome

of my Idea, so prepare!"

Manwe, his brother, indeed played

the main role of Eru's second song,

so he called upon Spirits mighty and great

to protect Ea before Melkor could do it wrong.

"What is the deed of many

cannot belong to only One.

For their efforts are caring

for Life and its central Plan."

So all compassionate Spirits

together protected Ea's conception.

They cared not for merits,

only for souls to-be-born in perfection.

The Valar obtained colour and form;

the outcome of their Elohimic evolution,

still their essence a Christic code beyond,

unfathomable but a possible expression.

Often they'd present

themselves as Kings or as Queens

Yet the nature is always the absence

of all ... but the secret within.

Ea! (next continuation)

Many were the Valar's allies,

at the nucleating launch of their Act,

no detail skipped, centre- or edgewise,

the dense form beyond the abstract.

Some workers were great in reach,

some of them humble in service,

taming in circles the elementals unleashed,

arranging Arda, control and observance.

Effort all around, at steady pace,

never rushing any phase,

for water fluid waves caught space,

and lava gushes were ablaze,

air birthing life through aspiration,

Earth crevices shaking and crumbling,

elemental creatures of Yavanna, patient,

were watering new gardens, buzzing.

Alas, Melkor was observing at the border,

full of petty sense of rivalry and envy,

while the Egg was forming at the corner,

he couldn't perceive it; yes, he couldn't see.

Twisted in inexplicable forms and sounds so reaped,

the Keys of Enoch lowered in vibration,

all planned to be mysterious, unique and deep,

yet all deviations lead to inferno's damnation.

Melkor, mighty, burst in a violent storm,

attacking with hope he couldn't decipher,

and all they were building peacefully roared,

the Ainur protecting it, Melkor a viper.

Melkor - an earthquake till abyss,

the Ainur - a creational surface,

Melkor was rising the low valleys,

attempting with all to repurpose.

They were filling in seas in Earth's holes,

the villain was scattering them wild,

their flowers, harmony reflecting the Laws,

soulless Melkor, plucked their smiles.

Reviving the poor plants,

these beautiful, chosen built ones,

a premonition, for these Lands ~

Were always meant for Eru's children.

Creation Go and Forge Ablaze!

The Ein Sof's absolute wisdom

in the unity undifferentiated of the plane

surely planned to be a home

of everything; from single dot in a domain.

The pure potential, single point,

without dimension, all-compressing,

erupted from within and voiced

the Motion, drawn the Circle nesting.

The segment of the line connected

to a second point within the Space,

the Circle was drawn, directed

always around the point with Grace.

And when the circular motion returned

back to point where it all started,

the golden proportion was formed,

infinity expressed within form dotted.

Second circle, the same compass and ruler;

always the same motion, the perfect solution.

The second circle defined its round maneuver,

Vescica Piscis! "Let there be Light!" Oh, son!

Two equal circles' intersection,

the perfect Light of the Cross, so alive.

Christic Emanation of Perfection

and Crystals diffracting Colours of White.

Masculine, feminine,

heaven and earth,

all in symmetry to win,

never less than imperishable worth.

This is the mystery of Eru,

The Maha Elohim, the Chieftain of Form,

the Model from Absolute Zero,

the Law, the Essence that Performs.

Creation Go and Forge Ablaze! (continuation)

Eru made a gesture of allowance;

now the Valar's turn commenced.

In pre-dawn silence they pronounced

the Music of their Heart; segments.

A breath of AOR-EL-OM,

Manwe's air filling the entire sky,

whispering Will into the dome,

breathing life, he alchemised.

Varda dreamed out her IAH-OR,

Stars spinned, wheels within wheels,

Constellations of wisdom before

the beginning of time, guiding ideals.

Ulmo, in the depth of MA-UR-EL,

stored the matrix of the plane,

in the newborn life of form: the whale,

the fluidity of form maintained.

Yavanna, growth in nature: ELO-HAVA!

Love, cohesion of all ecosystems,

self-supporting life evolves a

sense of lawfulness and neatness.

BA-OR-ETH, the craftman Aulë,

crystalised the minerals of Earth,

Substance and Form-building science,

always respecting Eru, or the First.

Oromë's pathway of movement,

teaching the forests of pursuit,

RA-EL-ON's wilderness, attunement

Hunting goals of Motion's root.

Mandos DIN-EL-AM, guarding the Law,

in the Halls of Waiting, of All Destiny.

The cosmic balance, the cycles, the awe

for harmony through conflict: "Be!"

NA-OR-IM, NA-OR-IM, falling asleep,

in Irmo's astralscape of dreams,

devotion, idealism, passion deep,

where nothing's as it seems.

Estë's Healing, restoration;

fields where one rejuvenates.

sanctuary of patience;

devotion that endures and waits.

ZA-VA-OR of Vána's seasons,

the spring, the fountain of youth,

cycles of renewal are the reason

flowers grow anew with hues.

The sacred sorrow of Nienna,

deep mourning purifies within,

temples of compassion, when a

soul transforms with KA-NA-EL to win.

Speed and grace of Nessa,

LA-ES-OR of love's cohesion,

agile life forms do caress a

dream that wants to be born.

Vairë weaves the time,

cosmic tapestry of TA-RA-IM,

so no one says "It's mine!"

All is intertwined, it's always been.

Tulkas, the strong defensor,

battlefields of GA-UR-EL light,

the endurance of a firm protector,

arenas of challenge in sight.

And... Melkor, KA-OR-EL, the mighty.

The First Ray's shadow before the fall,

his own chord someday he shall see,

but not before the transmutation of the All.

Creation Go and Forge Ablaze! (next continuation)

As above so below.

As below, so above.

Vesica Piscis, embryo,

and vast Cosmic Love.

One circle is Source,

two circles - polarity,

The double beating Heart,

form a Third - "Libera me!"

Galaxy collisions,

balanced in Trinity's clover,

Elohimic visions,

the passion of the lover.

The Ainur's 13 harmonious nodes,

universal lattice of creation.

Manwe's breath central blows,

his octahedron, firm foundation.

Varda's sphere, cosmic starlight,

In icosahedrons Ulmo flows,

hidden channels, connecting light,

and.... what else, who knows?

Matter and mountains, rise! -

in the cube of Aulë's structure;

Melkors tetrahedron, first chaos,

integrated in the lattice's debugger.

Dodecahedron of Yavanna and Oromë,

expanding nature, nurturing growth,

Uttering: Wildness, Thou, a Home Be!

Mandos and Vairë restoring in sorrow.

Nienna and Estë, healing and pause,

the nodes of vitality and dreams,

Irmo and Nessa, through doors,

animating cosmic flows in between.

The Maiar transmitting energy, intention,

influence across geometry's blueprint,

and all Platonic solid form the Engine,

the cosmic map: So Life does win!

The Maiar

The Valar, agents of the greater force,

have assistance in their service.

The Maiar, crucial is their part

in the structure of the universe.

Once the world was shaped,

the beings started governing it;

the world's development they traced,

intermediance covered herein.

Ambassadors between the earthly, the divine,

guiding all natural phenomena,

influencing Middle-Earth's path and design,

history building, autonomous.

Gandalf, Saruman and Radagast,

Melian, the evil Mairon,

cosmic order's functions everlast,

under their guided wisdom.

The universe originated in the mind.

Musical expression of divinest rightness.

Gandalf rarely involves directly, mild,

subtle direction rather than brute force.

Higher realities in correspondence

transpire what happens on the lower plane,

material and spiritual simultaneous

realities intertwine; the agents, hence

have to be careful not to disbalance,

the justice of the Law is absolute,

the fine line of pushing forward to advance

and holding back, enabling the resolute.

Vibration of motion and energy,

cosmic harmony does unify,

separation from the synergy,

results in discord that amplifies.

Mairon was a Maia of Aulë, revolt,

great skill in craftmanship and discipline,

his pedantic desire to control,

resulted in corruption, oh, ambitious son.

Cause and effect, rarely direct change,

rather a chain of subsequential decision,

the greedy heart becomes a cage,

humble spark of bravery - fruition.

All things move in circles, in cycles,

mirrored in the rise and the falls,

but what's restored remains vital,

if you nourish it, harmonious, in law.

What has fallen, will be transmuted,

lessons learnt at painful cost,

and... the Maiar are recruited

to help, so no one's lost.

The Maiar (continuation)

Ilmarë is Varda's loyal helper,

a handmaiden of imperishable care,

alongside the banner-bearer of Manwë,

Eönwë, the greatest martial herald.

Ulmo's Ossë rules the stormy seas,

washing Middle Earth's shores foamy,

his wife Uinen tames his wrath with pleas,

she's the sailors' protector, of mercy.

Melian nourishes Irmo's Lórien gardens,

nightingales sing wherever she goes;

the wisest Maia Olórin appears when

wisdom, hope and comfort are scarce.

The Children of Ilúvatar always rely

on the Higher guidance and support,

incarnations shall turn to the Sky,

for the role is limited; yet not the heart.

Thou, dearest Creatures of Eru,

doomed to empirically prove your faith,

don't despair at Melkor's doom,

for immortal proof is what awaits.

The Enemies

Last of all stands the name of Melkor -

the one who rises in Might.

Alas, he betrayed its meaning and lore,

and lost its code from sight.

Now Morgoth, the Enemy ~ destiny evil.

Always turning to the Self in I'M.

Although blessed in Age Primeval,

he chose the path of Ego's decline.

For he was an equal to Manwë in all,

but he chose to scatter his flame, dark,

ever trying to plot, scheme and forestall,

so his power too unnoticingly shrank.

Pride, the root cause of falling,

he desired to dominate over all Will,

yet the I AM is connected and loving,

just a part of a matrix that builds.

And the Cube that is progressive,

so asymptothically heals itself,

the fractal's limited though comprehensive,

so it can't Rule, so subjectively compelled.

Yet the initial charge of Glory

deludes the particle that absolute it is.

Before the end of the story,

before the shortage it will witness.

Many believed Melkor's beautiful form,

twisting and decaying their gifts,

Maiar so confused by his delusive charm,

and fell to a state of disbelief.

Among them stood Mairon of Aulë,

first a loyal apprentice, subject to commands,

yet all his humbleness ended as to reset,

till he Morgoth's shadow would expand.

Gorthaur the Horrible, greedy of power.

He wanted to subject all Life to his rule,

yet true force is to respect the lower,

for their soul is driven by their own fuel.

Even if evil manages to creep in,

or subject the mind to fear's empty whims,

the Cube will switch its algorithm,

and then the soul will follow another regime...

So evil's a mission destined to fail.

For it is not imperishable in its load,

and when the energy exhauts itself,

you're at the mercy of Eru, the Lord.

Of the beginning of days (.....to be continued)

Time flows smoothly; love's pleasant;

never can a soul prepare itself for war.

For the innate essence's omnipresent

and it calls for peace; harmonious at core.

Yet God's timing is objective;

destruction is a way of transmutation.

And for those who are perceptive,

premonition evokes anticipation.

The First War commenced in times unknown,

long before Arda took form and shape,

for the Children of Eru this feels forlorn,

and even plants weren't yet awake.

Melkor had ignited the unrest,

hoping to thwart the realm's creation,

for a long while he surpressed

everything, causing plans' annihilation.

Yet a mighty spirit appeared,

Tulkas the Strong, with ringing laughter.

His intention echoed, Melkor feared

him and lost the battle thereafter.

Tulkas' wrath, a vigorous storm,

scattered noise and obscurity,

Melkor fled from Arda, unfirm,

and hid with envy and impurity.

Spite is spiralling, an avalanche,

it accumulates a cluster, an egregore,

and whenever Melkor would launch

his revenge, it'd feel like forevermore.

God's aeons seem endless,

but patience endures it all,

it forges self-independence,

yet always within the Law.

Memories cannot even reach

these years of restless unease,

yet the collectiveness does teach

what got imprinted inside; keys.

Songs and stories... they don't go there.

Only a vague sensation within.

But the Valar remember; and where?

Where will it end... the sin?

Melkor's despise nested deeply,

as acid, toxic posion, evil green,

he roamed in darkness, unfreely,

and who know's what he's seen.

Plotting his ambush, effort in vain,

he distorted Blackness' Ray,

for it is the unmanifested plane,

where everything turns to day.

Creatures would fear the black,

yet it is still an attribute of Eru...

and .... someday Melkor'd attack.

But for long days, Tulkas was a hero.

Of the beginning of days (...continuation)

Peace commenced; in silent comfort,

the Valar introduced the order dreamt;

Yavanna sow the seeds in the Earth,

the ancient fires were already spent.

Living beings need the light,

nutrition from a solar essence,

so Aulë created two lamps bright,

over the vast Sea in omnipresence.

Plants, mosses, grasses and ferns

sprouted and vivified the Lands,

photosynthesis in cyclic terms,

and trees, the ecosystem's lungs.

Beasts inhabited the riversides,

the grassy steppes and lakes,

birds were yet to sing in the skies,

sleeping in Yavanna, not awake.

For her beautiful abundant song

was yet to enfold in duest time,

rushing the moment is wrong,

so evolution is a matter of design.

In the dawn of time, the Valar lived

in the centre of the Great Lake,

in Almaren they dreamt and advised,

and they would rarely take a break.

The Seventh day is time for rest.

They observed their plan unfold,

and all would turn for Eru's best,

magical beauty for eyes to behold.

The light holders, merry and hopeful,

infusing unconditional love in all,

into every living creature, lawful,

thrilled for the future: in awe!

Illuminate, dear newborn sources,

while you are still naive and young.

For there are some evil forces...

that plot... and what they plot is wrong.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Tulkas and Aulë were tired,

after the resistance to the overthrown,

so Melkor secretly conspired,

while they were resting at home.

While the beauty was progressing

in the Golden Ratio's unified model,

Manwë was preparing a blessing,

a festival of Hope ... yet Evil

was furtively gathering shadows

somewhere beyond Eä's borders,

alas, the dark Ainu had eyes

amid some treacherous Maiar indoors.

The Valar of Almaren lowered the guard,

light's predisposed never to get worried,

in the harmony of Spring, a youthful chord,

Tulkas and Nessa got happily married.

Illuin, the lamp at north of Middle Earth,

Ormal at its south, they shone in the space,

yet parts of the ground, the depths of the world,

didn't get caressed by their brilliant rays.

Melkor decided the hour commenced.

He crossed the Night Walls from the north,

with his hordes he stood against

all source of Love and imperishable worth.

So he started building a fortress,

under the mountains so somber,

where Illuin couldn't caress

the landscape; he hid yonder.

Utumno, his new den, came into being.

Although with a rather gruesome start.

And he churned with blackness, poisoning

all his tar could reach; declaring a war!

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Greenery decaying in slime,

rivers blocked by weeds,

Melkor declaring: "All's mine!"

preparing to end the Ainur spring.

Sinister and eerie pits,

lairs of bloodthirsty monsters,

suddenly the Valar's wit

got alarmed so as to ponder.

The guardians prepared;

they started searching for his den;

yet Melkor was already there -

the lamps in the trees he damned.

He gushed at them at once;

he demolished the branches.

And the lamps turned to crumbs,

their essence spilled, insubstantial.

Fire of promises betrayed

spilled with the sadness of death;

for their hopes were preyed

at and all the Valar wept.

The beautiful dreamy lamp holders,

couldn't ever fulfull their destiny.

Their innocent childhood was smothered,

they never weren't what they could be.

The Earth shook at the smash

of the branches of Life's Tree.

The sea erupted and it splashed

all that it could reach and see.

So this is how Almaren sunk.

Arda got destroyed; it never recovered.

And the tree mourned; its trunk

filled with loss and sensations bothered.

The Valar got too busy

with the trouble to tame

the elemens; it was a key

so save the place in frame,

for the Children of Ilúvatar

were hidden somewhere deep,

somewhere safe by their Father,

who safeguarded them in sleep.

That was the end of Arda's Spring.

The realm never fully recovered.

And... would even the Valar sing

of the lamps that never survived?

For a guardian is victory,

and when unable to protect,

all that's left is to hope to see

Eru's plan,... working to erect.

For the Maha Elohim promised

that all works for his ultimate glory....

so maybe Ormal and Illuin, lost,

would someday ... live their story.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

The Valar left the Middle Earth with grief,

they relocated to Aman, the land at west,

its shores washed by the Outer Sea; relief,

a new hope, a fresh start, a place to nest.

The Outer Sea Ekkaia surrounded Arda,

Aman's western coast bathed by that watery pit,

only the Valar knew its verges; or the

location of the the Walls of Night beyond it.

Belegaer, the Great Sea, splashed Aman

from its east side, lost in vastest horizon,

and since Melkor had built a spooky den

in Middle Earth, still roaming, with spies in

the entire place, once a dreamt heaven,

now a crossroads of the fallen creatures,

so the Valar soared the mountain chain,

called the Pelóri, beyond possible reaches,

These Mountains of Aman were the highest

among all of the world's tops and peaks,

Manwë built his throne on these skies' crest,

on the summit itself; seeing into the deeps.

The Elves would name it Taniquetil,

the sacred top of Manwë; fair rule shown;

where judgment isn't vengeful but tranquil,

its other names Oiolossë, Elerína; and so on.

The Sindar Elves would call it Amon Uilos,

from where Manwë and Varda observed

the earth till the far east; Valar source

of all protection and care for the world.

Behild Pelóri's unreachable walls,

the Valar built Valinor, their home.

The gardens, towers and halls,

eternal and imperishable shone.

For there was no sign of withering

in that Fountain of Eternal Youth.

And... it got better than the Spring

of Arda, and that was the Truth.

Everything there was blessed,

ever renewing itself and thriving,

flowers, stones... all was fresh,

and... immortally enticing.

Love and faith, beloved essences,

in harmony replenished the place,

peace and unison, in fragrances...

all was beautiful and ... full of grace!

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Valinor was finally created in full, with love.

the Valar chose their dear homes,

built their city Valmar, endless bells above,

beyond the mountains, in the plane it rose.

In front of the western gate of the city,

a green hill soared, Ezellohar they named it.

Yavanna often sat there and sung with pity

all that she fathomed and felt for eternity.

Nienna grieved at her side,

weeping in silent contemplation,

the Valar listening without display of pride,

from their thrones in Máhanaxar, with patience.

As their were observing with adoration,

two tender stems sprouted from the mound,

the two Trees of Valinor lay their foundation,

hopeful and serene, they radiated all around.

They were Yavanna's greatest creation,

of glory unmatched, in purity's form,

their fate the epitome of predestination,

all legends around this story would be born.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Telperion, the elder tree,

the male producing silver dew,

and Laurelin, with female younger glee,

in yellow flames her fruit she grew.

All Creation advances in waves,

from the Supreme Creator's heart.

each level of existence it blazes;

two great rays emerged in the start.

The Golden Ray of Divine Will and power,

the drive to expand and to create,

the Silver Ray nurturing love in God's Flower,

carrying wisdom and intuition great.

Together forming the Third Ray of the Sun,

containing all divinest qualities within,

the desire to learn and express in the form,

diffracted in the twelve rays that win.

The two Trees of Valinor emitted the rays,

of golden/silver substance of the attributes,

harmonising all cause and effect of the days,

their purpose bestowed from the Absolute.

Will and Power, Wisdom and Enlightenment,

Active Intelligence to guide life's journey,

all potential encoded in their beautiful scent,

but mostly in the inner light they bore within.

Blessings of Laurelin, Telperion,

your brilliance essential for all life streams,

yet...an omen so forlorn

creeps vague and undistinguished, so it seems.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

It took seven hours of the divine clock

for the glorious trees to fully grow up,

they'd take turn to sleep, they'd lock

an hour after the other one woke up.

So for an entire hour they attuned,

their rays merged in unified radiance,

for six hours Telperion bloomed,

till the twelfth did so Laurelin, consentaneous.

So each day they'd follow this cycle,

defining Valinor's day at twelve hours,

the trees' light dispersed in spirals,

till it rained on all lands and flowers.

Varda would gather the dew and the rain,

she'd pour it in water reservoirs and lakes,

and all the Valar would draw vitality, sustain

their eternal buoyancy and all young shapes.

This is how the Days of Valinor commenced;

the Count of Time marked the start of fixed units,

energies carefully started being dispensed;

the clock defines the distribution of all dual merits.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

The Time appointed by Ilúvatar

for the coming of the Firstborn (Elves),

was approaching; almost the hour

when they would come out of the Well.

Middle-Earth, meanwhile, lay

in darkness beneath the stars of Varda,

where Melkor roamed in terrible display

of coldness, fire, cruelty, beyond the

fathomable comprehension of the mind;

all deformations of evil originated from him;

while the Valar rarely would leave their shrine,

tending lovingly the lands beyond Pelóri Mountains.

The Valar differentiated in responsibilities.

Aulë was the Master Craftsman of precise work.

Gifted in smithing, craftmanship, his duties

were to weave with knowledge of the Earth.

His wife Yavanna guided all growing things,

and she yearned out of care for the Lands Beyond,

for she was concerned about all growing beings,

grieving for her deeds initiated there, yet gone wrong.

She would often leave the meadows of Valinor,

the home of Aulë to wander and heal all lesions;

the wounds of the world she'd never ignore,

inciting the Valar to battle anew in those regions.

Oromë would also ride in the darkness,

in unknown woods as a mighty Hunter,

taking down monsters of the ugliness,

with Nahar, Valaróma victorious thundered.

For the nefarious realm had to be transmuted

before the coming of the Firstborns,

and Middle Earth was still polluted,

in shadows and deviated forms.

Ulmo also never forgot Middle Earth.

His music echoed through the world, entire,

with Salmar, Ossë, Uinen, he'd guard

all life, in hidden places, from Melkor's desire.

The Sea Elohim dwelt alone in the Outer Ocean,

he governed seas, rivers, springs and rain,

neutralising much of the enemy's poison,

navigating fluids, the water cycle he maintained.

Manwë, the King of the Valar, heavenwards

ruled from Mount Taniquetil;

eagles and hawks his messengers,

he was always just and tranquil.

His brave strong birds brought so much news

from all corners of Arda, near, far and wide,

yet for the darkest secrets of Melkor clueless

he remained; they hid from his wise sight.

He desired peace, not display of power;

furthermore, power was not to be found in control,

but in managing self-balance in the Flower's

all manifestations, situations and sudden roles.

Serving as Ilúvatar's vice-regent,

he was the defender of the world...

always choosing mercy and patience,

never bitter, never vengeful; he heard.

For indignation ignites low emanations,

it leads straight to the trap of perdition,

first sense of justice, then vengeance,

it drags one down to self-annihilation...

So Eru chose Manwë for his heart,

which always responded to hatred

with calm lovingness, never with war,

patiently allowing restoration of the sacred...

For he knew the Flower of Life,

and the Cube in Eru progressed in algorithm,

so... no need to rush it; the device

is just part of Deus Ex Machina; a logarithm.

While others worried, he had fullest faith,

that someday Melkor would be restored,

he knew not how, or when, all he did was wait,

and serve his duty, while God self-explored.

And the children of Eru... they were asleep.

In beautiful cocoons of light,

so hush... their dream is so deep.

And their future destined to end bright.

Despite all challenges encoded in their souls;

methods of growth, even if pain's included;

they will all eventually reach their goals,

in the epos of life, their brave hearts boosted.

Sleep now, while you are still cosmic embryos.

Life is beautiful, go gather victory pre-natal...

For soon Eru will open the unknown doors...

and victoriously, fates will turn for aeons fatal.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Such was Arda back in the beginning;

the Days were young, before the birth

of Eru's Children; still, it was spinning,

the newborns yet to appear on the Earth.

The Ainur didn't dare partake at all

in the Music of their Father, obeying,

in the perfect song that ought

develop all hidden codes, portraying

the part of the plan, requiring trust,

knowing one's own hierarchical place,

not intervening when ignorant's a must,

first due to free will, then due to grace.

For only silly creatures have pretence

to adjust when they lack know-how;

patiently allow the blueprint to advance,

in eternal respectful and faithful awe.

For that reason the Valar decided

they would keep respectful distance,

and Eru? He had lovingly ignited

his own contribution to existence.

The Elohim were the higher brothers,

the chieftains of Ilúvatar's Children,

The Elves, or Firstborn Quendi Elders,

the Seconborn Atani, or - the Men.

The Valar would rarely intervene

in the fates of the two world races,

for coercion usually ends with unforeseen

outcome that the soul eventually faces.

So, out of concern, out of decent care,

they would sometimes try to guide the youngsters,

yet all forced attemps would end in shared

responsibility of observing consequences.

The Elves were closer in nature

to the Valar, more fathomable; aligned.

So their fates intertwined in layers

that were deeper, compared to the humankind.

The human folk were gifted with virtues

that were somewhat strange, a bit unknown,

with a peculiar destination their usage,

only the external side revealed and shown.

To each their strength, to each their destiny.

All parts of the lifestreams' web and doors.

All would leave their mark and legacy,

...while learning how to yield their force.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

After the Valar had departed,

a quietude reigned for some time,

Ilúvatar sat alone, good-hearted,

in contemplation, beyond paradigm.

At last, he held his breath for a bit,

and uttered with wisdom and glory:

"I Love the Earth that I have fit

to home the Quendi and Atani deary.

The Quendi shall be the most beauteous,

they shall craft the most excellent works;

the most beatific and harmonious,

almost immortal and youthful in looks.

Never withering; invincible against decay.

They shall have the longevity of spirits,

yet incarnate, they shall be the ones to stay

forever in this world, yet with a limit.

The Man shall have another gift; a blessing.

They will benefit from mortality

and they shall be the ones, progressing

beyond the Music of the Valar; free!"

Tabula Rasa at each last breath,

able to travel in spheres beyond the confine,

liberation at the stage of death,

new experiences empirically they'd define.

Ascending travellers of time and space,

always moving towards the center.

Wandering piligrims transmuting their ways,

under surveillance of spiritual mentors.

Each sphere has guardians of portals,

and every time a human passes the tests,

they can enter through new realm doors,

get accustomed to the laws and all the rest.

For the Central Universe is far away.

Havona's Seventh Circuit, the welcoming world.

Human beings are never meant to stay;

according to their awakening levels transferred.

they move from circuits to circuits,

inwards, based on their spiritual growth,

a pattern always reflected, in pursuit

of the Trinity itself, recognised in sight.

In the sixth Circuit they would recognise,

the Master Spirit's I AM individuality,

presiding over the entire superuniverse,

the human soul would stabilise in loyalty.

Attaining awareness of the Master Spirit,

in the Fifth Circuit they become prepared,

for the journey towards the Deities; a visit

in the Infinite Spirit; the next step ahead.

Eternal Son waiting for them in the Fourth,

Universal Father in the Third immersed,

Paradise inhabitants in the second hearth,

enrolling in the Finalists' Corps in the First.

Until the human destiny becomes fulfilled,

and their causal bodies become limitless,

to serve God they would be thrilled,

for eternity has a lot to offer in progress.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

Eru established the heart of the mortal man

to not find peace solely in the world of Arda,

yet to seek beyond its borders and to find

deeper truths; for there was the Musical Law that

was the marginal ultimate manifestation

for all form within to develop in reach, vitally;

the effort and deed of men in formation

would accomplish the world's goal, entirely.

Yet the strife for power, Eru did know,

would lead to frequent straying from their path,

so they'd often usurp their gift and throw

away the primary creational talent, in wrath.

For avidity is the true reason behind

the ego's yearning to possess dominion;

or the vainglory for the others to find

your own persona as the fairest in opinion.

Such power doesn't really crave a skill;

it is useless and weak at the very core;

losing the capability to distinguish so still,

leading to foolishness in decisions' lore.

Yet karmic patterns know how to lead,

intertwining destinies and lessons learnt;

at that times honour becomes a creed

that turns the self victorious and grand.

Bravery and the beauty of principle,

they would save both Elves and Men.

Virtues would cleanse their planet, hence,

from debauchery and restore its heaven.

Evil's dimness is a state of alchemical Nigredo,

that has to be transmuted in a state of pain,

washing away impurities in the insight of Albedo,

immortality of the Rubedo, in I AM Self sustained.

Who knows what bore the consciousness of Eru,

unfathomable mystery for lower creatures of the world.

For he declared, already patiently prepared to

witness the breaking of his Law, unheard.

"Men shall know that all they do

will contribute to the glory of my Work."

So... Creation follows and pursues

in all its entirety the Creator's Arc.

Of the beginning of days (...next continuation)

The Elves had the reticent concept

that human folk often grieved Manwë,

the closest Valar that Eru dearly kept

most acquainted with his design's expanse.

The Quendi deemed people to be

similar to Melkor in their spirits;

although the fallen Elohim did feel

only fear for them and their specifics.

He actually despised them greatly,

even when they served his objective;

for he innerly perceived, innately,

that they carried deeper perspective.

The human children were mere guests

in the vast lands of Arda, where others

were bound to remain and know not the rest;

The Atani travelled beyond these borders.

The Elves could never fathom the notion

of where these souls would travel, so far;

they, instead, had profoundest connection

with the local planet, its water, earth and air.

For they could never age, nor wither,

nor fall in sickness or a mortal bane,

save they were slaughtered; they could linger

due to mourning, melancholy and pain.

And if sadness caused their light to quench,

they would enter the Halls of Namo Mandos,

where they would wait eternity to attend

their wounded souls; ultimate fate undisclosed.

Sometimes they would be permitted to return,

or they would wander in the Halls of Waiting,

what would happen after the trial - unknown;

only yearning and zeal for Arda, never fading.

Meanwhile, people would have long been gone

beyond the fate of all residents of local nature,

even the Valar would hope to peek beyond,

in aggravated time when they'd invoke patience.

Yet Melkor would cast a shadow on the gift

of humankind to be free Strangers of Will,

their hope filled with posionous twist

convincing their goodness to choose evil.

Nonetheless, the Valar had predicted

back in the dawn of their constellation,

that the humans would be admitted

to the Second Music of Creation.

Of Aulë and Yavanna

The Children of Eru still weren't born,

yet something secretive took place.

In the meantime one Valar would yearn

already to teach a disciple his ways.

Aulë, the Elohim craftsman - because he

was so impatient compared to the Timing

of Ilúvatar, which was flowing so slowly,

created a race of his own mind's designing.

In the darkness of Middle Earth,

while the Valar was yearning

for the Children of Eru's birth,

he started silently working

on the formation of another race;

The Dwarves, the little cave fellows,

who turned out to be brisk in stubbornness,

for the Thought of Aulë would follow

a pattern, kind of vague and rushed,

which reflected on the small men's nature,

yet deep in their hearts they hushed

out of love for mining, crystals and labour.

First he crafted the Seven Dwarven Fathers,

and out of fear for Melkor's grim dominion.

the Valar encoded that the workaholic creatures

be firm, unwavering, obstinate minions.

When Aulë finished the last detail,

he stood there, in loving excitability,

yet Eru appeared, for what he did was wait

yet eventually he asked for accountability.

Once the Valar started teaching

the Dwarves to speak the tongue

he had prepared for speaking,

Eru appeared and Aulë felt wrong.

Eru scolded him severly,

wisely, out of a sage's authority,

"What have you done here?

Beyond your field of creativity?

Is this what you desired -

to act beyond jurisdiction,

where the spark of my Fire

ignites beating prior completion?

Is it good for a creature

to move without their own will?

Giving birth, in that be sure,

concerns the life; it can't be standstill.

For a living creature is responsibility,

a golden promise handed with each life;

every stream needs full credibility

and you have acted on your own, in spite?"

Aulë was already in deepest regret;

full of remorse, he swished his hammer,

for, - disobedience? he did not meant

it; never, not at all; he craved not power.

The little innocent children of Aulë,

with the tiny hopeful eyes and fullest faith in them

in their creator that bore them sincerely,

saw their very own Creator trying to annihilate their stem.

They moved with broken tiny heart,

not understanding why they were born,

why they were given a purest start,

only to be cursed, killed and sworn.

Eru immediatelly stopped his son,

from commiting a gravest wrongdoing.

"Don't worry - they're already born,

don't you see; alone, they're moving?

Otherwise they wouldn't try to run away

before your utterly whimsical decisions.

Know - I've already accepted them to stay

as your offering, for they're alive with their missions.

I let Drarwes live! Be Lawful, Children!"

And Eru gave his son a hug of caress,

and Aulë did remorsefully explain his reason,

that he acted out of an impulse to express

an inner driving force to shape new forms,

such as his Father, the God of the Tesseract,

had this innate desire to ignite, to explore

through experience; hence, the witnessed act.

No evil intent, just impatience,

the desire to teach an apprentice.

And... the Dwarves felt obeisance

towards Aulë, their Creator and superintendent.

Mining, crafting, smithing; gems;

the little elemental brothers of gnomes,

fell in love with the works of Aulë; hence,

they started learning with effort, at home.

They would be tireless, loyal to the Elohim,

with a bit of a stubborn temper,

and while they diligently worked in team,

they made happy their mentor.

Riches of minerals and stones,

metals, ores and precious crystals,

they loved their life, their promise,

alive and free, for Eru showed justice!

Of Aulë and Yavanna (continuation)

When Aulë heard of Iluvatar's decision,

he threw away his hammer, relieved,

he thanked Eru for the admission

of the Dwarves he had conceived.

"I hope that Eru blesses my deed

and restores the parts that I did wrong."

Yet Iluvatar refused at all to fix

anything that Aulë's hand had done.

"As I have created all of the Ainur

in the very beginning of Light,

I accept to give a place to your

yearning in the world and ignite

the spark of the Imperishable Flame

in the hearts of your Created Race;

yet I won't correct their original shape,

they shall be according to your ways.

Yet one thing I refuse so firmly:

for them to awake before my Children;

your impatience I reject severely,

and you shall gradually wait until then.

It shall feel for quite a long time,

yet you shall not fall into temptation,

and when the moment turns in its prime,

I will wake them up in the Creation.

They shall be like your Children.

But that shall happen in an hour unknown;

after the awakening of Elves and Men -

and not before the Signs are shown.

At many times there will be quarrels

between My Kids and Yours; so be aware,

for they will differ in manners and morals,

so there will be fights and conflicts to bear."

Aulë humbled himself and hushed quietly,

patiently took the Dwarven Firstborns,

put them in secret places that varied entirely

and waited for a very long term.

And since they had to come into being

in the days of Melkor's mighty reign,

the Valar created them strong and enduring,

firm, stubborn and hasty; for they

would be hard-working and tough

in dire situations of hunger or physical lack,

in enmity and friendship showing rough

and hasty temper, yet a team and a pack.

They would live very long lives,

longer days attributed to them

compared to the mortal men years,

yet not immortal in this realm.

Elves would believe that upon their death

Dwarves would return in the soil itself,

yet the Dwarves had a legend instead

that they would be cared for well

by their Creator Aulë, or Mahal the Maker,

he would gather them in Mandos' Halls,

yet in separate strongholds of the Reaper,

then at the End Iluvatar would call

them forth and give them dignified place

among the Children of Creation,

and then, in the Finale of the Days,

the Seven Fathers, the Firstborn,

would re-appear in their midst,

and all the Dwarves would smile,

headed by their King, Durin the First,

greatest among all their tribes.

The Originator of the Drarwen kin

that would live in Khazad-dûm, or Dwarrowdelf,

the most ancient kingdom that there's been,

of glory, in the Mines of Moria's wealth.

This tribe would be the Dwarven folk

the Elves would have greatest bonds with,

of architectural achievements that provoke

awe, marvel and respect for those smiths.

Of Aulë and Yavanna (continuation)

While Aulë was labouring to craft the Dwarves,

he was keeping them in secret from the Valar;

yet eventually he decided Yavanna deserved

to know of his deed, so he made her aware;

He told her all about it, wholeheartedly,

and he felt great relief from his confession;

Yavanna listened to his sharing carefully

and showed compassion and affection.

"Eru is our God of mercy" said she;

"I see that your heart is full of glee.

That is so because of the fact He

granted you forgiveness but also agreed

to give you permission to continue;

which is an act of great generosity.

Yet I must warn you that since you

hid your deed from me, now I foresee

that your Children will feel no mercy,

or tenderness for what I love and create;

as their Father they shall always be

fond of what their hands touch and make.

They will dig the Earth without concern

for what grows on top or lives in the soil,

so many trees will die, cut and torn,

by their axes, defenseless against turmoil.

Aulë answered: "This is true.

But also valid for the Children of Iluvatar,

they are destined to use, too,

all they find on Earth, with approval for

using the goods of the entire land

for their nourishment and needs, vital,

for everything on Arda is at hand

to secure their physical survival.

Yet they shall do so with gratitude,

with respect for the resources they use,

Eru commands so; that's the attitude

towards animals, fruit, wood they produce."

"Lest Melkor pours poison in their hearts."

Yavanna had her concerns already,

for she knew her Creation had a grim start,

for they had to thrive in conditions unsteady.

Fear shook her fragile, tender soul,

full of desire to provide all blessings

to the newborn flora and fauna in the soil,

she found no peace, while addressing

the internal dispute, how would she prevent

their total suffering, destruction, corruption?

So at the end she took a decision and went

to Manwë, to ask for guidance and deduction...

Without spilling the secret, she sought advice,

her eyes full of tears, her voice trembling,

for she knew that the Elohim Regent was wise,

so Yavanna trusted his authority's reckoning.

Of Aulë and Yavanna (continuation)

"King of Arda", Yavanna revered him,

"Is it true, the saying that foresees,

that when the Children or Eru appear in

Arda, they will be able to do what they please

with my Creation, for their needs?"

"It is true." Manwë confirmed.

"But why do you come and proceed

to ask, since you're already informed?"

Yavanna gazed upon her own soul,

trying to detect her deepest motif.

"Because I care deeply for all

Creatures that on Arda live.

Isn't it enough that Melkor destroyed

so much of what I gave a divine promise to?

Won't my Children be ever able to employ

their own Will against the outer display of ego?"

"Had it been in your jurisdiction"

Manwë questioned her maturely:

"What would be your own decision:

what would you preserve so surely

among the members of your kingdom?

What is dearest to your heart among them?"

"Everything has a quality of its own,

they influence each other's destiny and stem.

Yet the Kelvar can run to protect themselves,

while the Olvar can only grow defenseless.

But ... the Trees,... I pity mostly their fates,

for they grow up slowly and helpless,

no one will mourn for them if they don't survive

until they bear a fruit, their tribute to the world.

They will fall down easily, deprived of life,

no one will cry for them; ever unheard.

So I beg this from you, dear King!

May the trees have the right; and I mean it,

to speak for all the green living things,

to punish those who make them go extinct!"

Of Aulë and Yavanna (continuation)

Manwë got marvelled at her thought:

"Your idea is somewhat peculiar!"

Yavanna objected that her vision had caught

signs of that desire in the Song he could hear.

"While you were high in the skies with Ulmo

and you were creating the clouds and the rain

the branches of my trees and their crowns

were soaring against them, singing in reign."

Then Manwë got silent and began to fathom it.

The idea of Yavanna sowed a seed in his soul,

it started growing and Ilúvatar, animate,

perceived the notion and all he did Know.

Manwë felt the Music soaring within him,

he'd heard a lot, before, without comprehension,

and this time he felt support in the hymn,

the right wing of Ilúvatar's omnipotence.

All stands upon the right hand of Ilúvatar.

All that before was born in the Ainur's hearts.

Eru's right hand stretched out and the Adar

poured out miracles to bless some new starts.

Súlimo woke up, then to Yavanna he went,

sat on Ezellôchâr underneath the Two Trees,

he talked excited about what heaven-sent

news were shared, so her request he did please.

"O, Kementári, Queen of the Earth,

Eru spoke and said as it follows:

'Do you think I haven't heard

all of the song with all of its goals?

When My Children wake up on Arda,

so will Yavanna's thought too,

she'll call forth spirits to ward the

Kelvar and Olvar they'll be drawn to.

They will stay forever in her kingdom

to protect it with their righteous anger,

they will serve forever with wisdom,

earning respect and awe, as guards.

While the Firstborn are blooming

and the Youngsters are still headstrong,

the guardians will always be doing

the work to help against all wrongs.'

Remember, however, you didn't sing alone;

we sang together in our sacred quest

as magnificent birds, high our Voices shone,

predicting the Eagles, the Heralds of the West."

Yavanna stood up so happily on the hill,

raised her arms entirely towards the sky, blessed,

"May my trees soar so high, O, Free Will,

that the Eagles of the King in them may nest."

Yet Manwë objected to her, calm, gave counsel.

"No, only Aulë's tree shall reach such height.

The Eagles shall nest in the summits of mountains.

They shall hear from there all pleas and cries.

While the guardians of the trees

shall roam in the woods.

This concludes all the news,

and I did what I could."

Yavanna went to her dearest home,

found Aulë melting metals in molds,

"Eru is Mighty! Mercy of our Lord!

Your Children shall be careful in their patrols,

for there is a terrific power in the forest!"

Aulë, objectively, agreed to that statement,

"Yet they'll need wooden material, nourished."

And kept on with smithwork, his special engagement.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor

The Valar lived for more long ages

in complete bliss under the light

of the Two beloved blessed Trees

beyond the Mountains of Aman in sight.

The entire Middle Earth lay at that time

in twilight underneath the shining stars;

where before, under the Lamps so sublime

growth had commenced that ended in tears.

Vegetation life got abruptly severed,

as everything got back to black, disturbed,

yet the most ancient creatures persevered,

the seaweed algae and branched trees of Earth.

Creatures of darkness and grim force

lurked in the hills, surronded in gloom,

rarely did the Valar cross these shores,

save for Yavanna and Oromë who resumed

their mission on the spoiled land,

on the Broken Promise for the Spring of Arda

for which Yavanna mourned so vulnerable and

wholeheartedly determined to restore the order.

She put many living creatures in deep sleep,

so that they wouldn't grow prematurely old

hid them in lairs in the soil, warm and deep,

where they awaited to be awakened in the world.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 2

Alas, at north Melkor surely did not slumber,

he gathered forces, watched and worked,

the evil life forms he had defiled in numbers,

in the sleepy wild forests raged and lurked.

He gathered the spirits that back in the days

of glory were forged in the pure essence of fire,

yet Melkor, having corrupted their ways,

clad them in clothing of darkness and wicked desire.

Their steps produced icy murderous terror,

in their hands - whips of devouring flames,

in Middle Earth they'd call them Balrogs in horror,

and many more creatures Melkor obtained.

His kindgom reached Middle Earth's South,

and vile monsters he unleashed to oppress,

he built a new fortress, its essence slough,

on the northwest shores so he could supress

any possible reaction on Aman's part;

there ruled Sauron, Melkor's assistant,

Angband they called the disgusting fort,

that tried to thwart all Light's resistance.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 3

Yavanna and Oromë brougth the troubling news

from the Lands Beyond, so they gathered a concil,

Kementári spoke first, elaborating on the clues,

with fate and hope they could solve the issue of evil.

"Hear me, O, Lords of our dear Arda,

the vision of Ilúvatar lasted so briefly,

it was taken away abruptly from order,

so we don't know the details completely.

Yet one thing we know and it's for sure.

The Hour is approaching for the Children

of Eru to awaken in the Lands; when they do,

shall we leave them to a fate of their own?

Shall we leave their homes so hollow,

since they are inhabited by wicked beasts,

shall they live in darkness and follow

Melkor as their leader, as their chief?

While we abide in the light, in comfort

in a state sublime and enlightened,

while Manwë rules so triumphant

in Taniquetil; shall they exist frightened?"

Tulkas, with the superhero impetus,

called them all to step forth directly,

for he could find no solution or peace,

until Melkor was banished, heroically.

"It's time to go to immediate war!

Haven't we rested enough since the conflict?

We've gathered strenght anew, so let's start

a new battle to reclaim the Land and evict

Melkor, the fallen, the enemy,

who challenges our kingdom forever,

let's act now, may freedom be!

And may he be banished with all of the nether!"

At Manwë's request then spoke Mandos:

"It is said that Eru's Children will awaken

in this Epoch, they will enter the doors,

yet it is said that upon their animation

they shall first see the stars in the black atmosphere.

This will be their guiding light, their promise.

And if it happens they perceive a bighter light there,

this will be an omen for their doom and demise.

So let them receive their gift from their Father.

Let them receive the sidereal impression of the comic vault.

This is their designation, so we shouldn't bother

something set beyond our sphere of action and thought."

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 4

XI. Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor

"This is why the Elves, in dire, heavy hours,

will call upon Varda for her guidance and help,

for she is the Creator of their favourite stars,

for them she's the Source of the Light of the Well."

Varda, so touched by that sentimental speech,

left the Concil of the Valar to look towards Middle Earth,

where, amid the darkness of the land, the skies were rich

of stars, so beautiful and pale, expecting Elven birth.

So Varda started crafting her new work of grace,

the greatest one upon the arrival of the Elohim here,

she took silver dew from Telperion's lakes

and created brighter stars for the Firstborns dear.

At first, when Eä was created,

Tintallë was Varda's surname,

yet a new one, Elentári, got equated

to it in the Elven language; famed.

In those days Varda wrought

many stars by her beloved:

Carnil and Luinil,

Nenar and Lumbar,

Alcarinquë and Elemmírë;

And many of the ancient ones

she gathered and she re-arranged

as signs across the heavens,

to guide Arda's bravest rangers.

Among them:

Telumendil and Soronúmë,

Wilwarin and Anarríma;

Also, Menelmacar, its core,

a shining belt it bore,

the Last Battle - foretelling

at the end of the days, overwhelming.

And high in the North, as a challenge to Melkor,

Varda put there the brilliance of the Elder,

by uplifting to wander in the skies

the crown of seven brilliant stars,

Valacirca,

the fateful Sickle

Love of the Valar,

or the helping star.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 5

It is said that when Varda finalised her work

and Menelmacar started threading in the firmament,

when Helluin in blue fires began to spark,

in the mist at the border of the world determinant,

this was the Hour when the Children of Arda,

the Firstborns of Ilúvatar were launched on the Earth,

around the lake of Cuiviénen the Elves woke up,

in the Water of Awakening they were given birth.

They opened their eyes; unspeakable awe

The gift of the First Breath, awareness of life.

Grateful for being alive, the first thing they saw

were the stars of Varda in the black mystic sky.

They fell in love with that first impression, forever.

Varda, now called Elentári, the Queen of the Stars,

became their most favourite Valar, their eternal helper,

a guiding light in this world predestined to wars.

In the misadventures of this Earth the forms of the ground,

and the seas, and the landscape got many times reshaped,

so there's no turning back to Cuiviénen's sacred lands,

they are long gone in the story of their cataclysmic fates.

It is said among the Elves, that the lake used to be located

far to the north and east in Middle-Earth, beside a bay

of the inland Sea of Helcar, there the Firstborns awaited

came to being at the roots of Illuin, the mountain mislaid,

by Melkor, who cast it down, in his evil scheming,

and thus the topography cannot be retreived.

Only in the memories of the Firstborns reliving

the entrance in the world, when they were conceived.

Many waters flowed from the eastern highlands,

the first sound that the Elves heard was murmur of streams,

the clear song of droplets falling upon smooth stones,

giving them hope, faith for beauty and fulfillment of dreams.

They lived for a long time in their first home

around the waters under the starry vault,

they called themselves Quendi, or the ones

who could speak and sing and articulate aloud.

For they didn't find another being

that possessed the very same gift;

they walked around and called each thing

a name of its own that they later reminisced.

Oromë was riding east on his beloved stallion,

then he turned north along the shores of Helcar

and entered the shadow of the Eastern Mountain,

the Orocarni; yes, he always travellled so far.

Suddenly! - he overhead, a lot of voices, angelic,

he caught a glimpse of the Elves, unforeseen their visage,

the vision long awaited astonished him, authentic,

for what was predicted came to life so vivid in image.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 6

The Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar were

back then far greater in glory and might,

than in all the following epochs, yet their

beauty never faded away; still so bright.

The Elves still live in the Lands of the West,

wisdom and grief evermore enrich their fairness.

And Oromë immediately fell in love, he'd invest

all of his protective merits to secure their wellness.

The hunter called the Elves "the Eldar",

the People of the Stars, beloved, pristine,

Yet only those who followed him west bear

that name, for some fled from the team.

For many of the Firstborns met him with horror;

Melkor was at fault for spreading the lie

that the Hunter abducted those who disappeared,

for some in small groups or alone had vanished from sight.

The Black Horseman rode a violent stallion,

chasing the ones who wandered so lost,

the legends of the Elves tell about this demon,

who'd cast shadows to captivate them at any cost.

This way the fallen Eholim deceived too many Children,

for they mistook Oromë for the evil creatures of Melkor,

too many fled to a destiny unknown, ending in the evil den,

while the noblest Elves distinguished the light of the Lord

in Oromë's dignified stature and pure brilliance,

clad in the Light itself, they perceived his good intent,

a lot of the Elves attracted by this magnificence,

believed that Oromë was benevolent in what he meant.

So when Nahar neighed, some instinctively ran away,

forever captured in the webs of the maleficent one,

but a lot of the beautiful Children chose to stay,

and followed the Rider to the path of Eru's plan.

A little is known of the deepest pits of Melkor,

but it is widely believed that he tortured the Elves,

in the black wells without hope for escaping these doors,

he scourged them till they turned ill, corrupted, unwell.

A lot of the sages in Eressëa believed

that these Children were twisted to orcs sworn,

for Melkor did not have the ability to conceive

life forms, so how else were these monsters born?

Among all deeds that Melkor did to wreak havoc,

this was the most twisted act, among all mayhem, ah!,

the most despised by Eru Ilúvatar, our God, the Empath,

the most repulsive, hated act to him: "Anathema!"

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 7

For what purpose did Eru allow

the suffering of his newborn Children?

Did he care not for them at all,

since he allowed this injustice to happen?

When the Firstborn opened their eyes,

they knew not fear, they just had a promise,

they knew not chains, they needed no lies,

no sin in their deeds to evoke karmic response.

The hand that would seize their innocence

and teach it agony instead of ways divine,

they did not know it; yet their fate commenced,

their souls and physical bodies got misaligned.

Taught agony without any prior instruction

that could feed their beings with enduring strength,

they were subjected to utter corruption,

to agony that knew no end, prolonged in length.

And in the darkest place of Arda, Utumno,

the newborn, clueless, were beaten beyond

comprehension, limitless, to decompose,

until every sense of divinity was gone.

At some point, before they got utterly lost,

rose the cry through every world and heaven:

Why did Eru Ilúvatar permit this, at what cost?

Didn't he care at all for his newborns?

If the Law of non-intervention

made it impossible for him to directly step in,

why didn't he at least give faint instructions,

something to prepare them for what would be?

Even the Valar can only second-guess,

whether the Elven souls had, inside, encoded

some sort of agreement for strangest progress

through martyrdom, although Eru loathed,

and he loathed the unnecessarity of evil,

of a pointless act of cruelty on those defenseless,

yet it must have been a Law of wisdom heavy,

since he launched the Elves entirely to sense it.

The Ein Sof, the Infinite beyond all names,

and Tzimtzum, the holy contraction, may know.

For the Infinite veiled Himself and its ways

to make room for beings to choose what they sow.

Had the Infinite filled all things openly,

no rebellion could breathe in the absolute Law,

no hatred could arise poisonously, brokenly,

but neither could love be free, compelled to withdraw.

So a space was granted for free will to exist,

where every creative action caused an effect,

where Co-Creators had to endure and resist

all of their misaligned consequences of neglect.

Within the distance from the sacred,

Melkor made his choice to disrespect,

even if hard, that meant for all the rest

to live empirically lessons that reflect.

Suffering, are you indispensable?

You aren't good, or are you for real?

Freedom is there, true, incomprehensible,

permitting wounds that take time to heal.

Tikkun, Oh, repair of brokenness,

not because the breaking itself is holy,

healing reveals depths of awareness

that gaze in the eyes of those broken ones only.

"As above, so below." Worlds mirror one another.

Good is inherently complete and balanced on its own.

Grand process of Creation allows pain to bother

because of testing the choice of the Self in dire time shown.

Chaotic destruction is not of the Law.

It can only disassemble meaninglessly in sequence.

And Eru... knew that the ultimate goal

is to forge the perfection through trials, with patience.

Every soul must awaken to its divine origin.

The darkness of Melkor was not a creative force.

Evil invents nothing, it parasites on reason,

where it can find vacant space to enter the doors.

Melkor could not make life, he could only deform it.

His torture, a brute force, revealed a weakness; ultimate.

For the Life Force is the Imperishable Flame and to source it

means to trust in God's way and learn how to wait.

Even in the deepest self- or outer- prison,

Veiled, buried and maybe forgotten,

the divine spark remains hidden,

never destroyed, already Begotten.

Yet could not Eru have prevented that corruption?

Could not Ein Sof have shattered the chains?

What lies underneath the lack of prior instruction?

Did he launch these Elves for mere anguish and pain?

Perhaps. Yet otherwise freedom itself

would cease to be the manna of freedom.

Overruling the choice of the created Selves

makes the beings shadows; nullus deorum.

And Eru remained silent, not from indifference.

Because his aeons are infinite, in the Cosmos prolonged.

In this horrific experience the Elves forged such endurance,

which eventually... would solidify their will so strong?

No one knows it all, but one thing is sure.

All is for the glory of Ilúvatar's Music,

inspiring life, the sacred, a cure,

while Melkor ... foolishly enthused it.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 8

XI. Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor

For a while longer Oromë stayed among the Firstborn,

then he rushed through plains and through seas,

to bring the exciting news to Valinor, as well as concern

for the fate of those who fled for no one to see.

And the Valar indeed rejoiced, yet perturbated,

for they wanted to protect the Quendi from the darkness,

and while they were counseling and although they debated,

Oromë immediately returned to the Elves, with alertness.

Manwë stood on top of Mount Taniquetil for a long while,

and in his thought he sought advice from his Father,

then he returned back to Valmar in an Elohimic style

and called there all Valar at the Ring of Doom, to gather.

Even Ulmo came from the faraway seas,

to the most fateful Concil of the Valar ever held,

and Manwë spoke with great expertise,

"Ilúvatar suggested that we act now and repel

Melkor from Arda, no matter what it takes us,

to regain the realm and free the Elves from the shadows,

to free the Quendi from the evil ones; this awaits us,

so do we decide to march forward and expel those?"

The suggestion made Tulkas very determined,

yet grief was born in Aulë's objective heart,

for he knew how much the world would be bothered

by this war that would just now start.

Yet the Valar prepared and departed from Aman,

very decisive, masculine, victorious and light,

no vengeance, just restoration in their plan,

for fighting with anger corrupts every just side.

The fortress of Melkor, once and for all,

would be destroyed to never be rebuilt greatly,

and the deceiver never forgot his fall

was caused for the sake of the Elven safety.

Yet the Elves took no part at all

in those battles decisive for their fate,

little have they witnessed to know or recall

about the crusade of the West back in the days.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 9

Melkor affronted the strike of the Valar

in the northwest end of Middle Earth,

where everything faced destruction of war,

luckily, the Good force defeated those adverse.

The armies of Melkor fled to Utumno,

the servants of the evil lord hid in the thereabout dens,

and what happened next - who knows?

The Valar crossed entire Middle Earth; on Cuiviénen

they put Guards, and the Quendi witnessed not

what happened after in the Terrible Battle Almigthy,

save for the fact that the land underneath shook,

with waters raising high, with fires celestial, mighty.

The ambush of Utumno was long and tiresome,

many strategies applied, while preserving the balance

of the Absolute force, which surely requires some

knowledge on how to invest alchemy's lawful potency.

The forms of Middle Earth got reshaped.

The Vast Sea that separated it from Aman widened,

the wild waves digged a new gulf, escavated

in the south; and north's strait Helcaraxë cut the land.

It was exactly in this newly formed narrow of Helcaraxë

where Aman and Middle Earth drew nearest to each other;

among all these greatest was the Bay of Balar, the entrance

of the river of Sirion (from Dorthonion) to the sea there.

All the northern lands were made waste back then,

for there were dug the bottomless Utumno pits and wells,

full of fires and countless hosts of the servants

of Melkor, who turned the place to absolute hell.

At last! The gates of Utumno collapsed,

the halls of Melkor definitely crumbled,

so the fallen one hid in the deepest well, trapped,

and finally Tulkas knocked him down, humbled.

Angainor, the great unbreakable chain,

forged by the Vala Aulë to restrain fully Melkor,

was used by the Elohim to captivate the bane

and Peace on Earth reigned, remembering its lore.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 10

XI. Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor

Meanwhile, from his center of Creation,

Eru Ilúvatar observed Middle Earth with mercy,

deep within his heart of eternal patience

he bore sadness but knew it was worth it.

For seeing Melkor chained, he fathomed the reason

of his deviation in the initial twist,

for deep processes were encoded for those who listen

and the major one... to achieve to exist.

Divine dissatisfaction, rooted in alchemy.

The goal was to transmute the One, in design,

through existential transmutation of reality,

including malady and evil... unless he went Blind.

For before all existed... there was a vortex black,

not as a void, but the primordiality before light,

in pre-existence, before the Cube, the tesseract,

where He, who Entered, tried to achieve life.

High Intelligence dives in the unknown.

Where does such depth ... where does it lead?

For the three first ones have gone forlorn,

disintegrating at achievement, they didn't succeed.

Deprived of existence of their reality,

matter thrice fell apart to nothingness,

they lost potential Creation of eternality,

forevermore failing to recall the names.

The Fourth Demiurge attempting matter,

among the Nine Primary Deities beyond

the black edge that separates the water,

crossed, permitted, the threshold, now caused.

This shall be revealed! The Fourth attempt is Eru,

the All-Avatar being built through matter and forms,

the creator of the Cosmic substance, of Ea: "Ero

L'Avatar", the Illumination of the Spiralling norms.

And since Deus does not allow repetition,

and since it happened that the Ratio of Gold

shaped itself exactly in this attempt of completion,

even Sabaoth depended on the fourth attempt; yes, God.

For would there be another chance

to re-build the Merkaba, the Flower of Life?

No, this was the fourth and last one,

either the Cube or no eixstence, uncontrived.

For the Secret of Life's possibility

is encoded in the Absolute-Relative Pulse,

in the asymptotic approximation of infinity,

the Perfect Solution, Symmetry's Impulse.

Yes... God, the Trinitary Lense,

that diffracts the light, and combines us in atoms,

depends on Eru's victory or malchance,

for it was launched, trying to accomplish Adam.

Adam Kadmon, the ultimate form,

the toroidal field of the spheres within spheres,

and Melkor... had to choose wrong,

for evil's not of God and chases all lotuses.

AntiMetatronic codes, the rotten Key,

the breath of Molloch, the worm of Akuma,

the tower built entirely in order to annihilate

Eru Iluvatar, to devour and consume him.

To turn back to non-existence, unachieved.

The goal of the thing, the source of which unknown.

And... Eru... he ... wanted to live,

so he simply had to gather fragments and... transmute the One.

Melkor, a chosen vessel, he twisted the Music,

because he felt something deeper than chaos,

a twist that first went slow.. black cloud that fused it,

fused the alchemy, the Owwoch, the solution of Nous.

Yet for long aeons,... creatures would be destined

to feel the inevitabile experience of pain.

Nothing would be spared, for the mission attested

the completion of all sides of the plan.

"...Do you think I did it well, Child?"

That's what Iluvatar was thinking.

About the elves in the black deep wells.

The truth of life, the Source, the guide.

They weren't just sinking.

They were forging the bell.

The bell, the flame, the manna.

Vitalising essence, forever alive.

Yet... not constructed yet and it's gonna

take a while for Eru to ... survive.

Faith in the Aum, faith in Sacred Maths.

The Perfect Solution already created.

Yet... Deus Ex Machina sometimes lifts up...

so why not his own self, ...in case Eru failed?

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 11

Alas, the Valar didn't manage to find

all mighty caves, pits and dungeons,

hidden well from the sharpest sight,

below Utumno and Angband's tunnels.

A great amount of the evil projections

concealed their presence in those lairs,

the rest of them scattered in all directions

until the new hour of malice got prepared.

No one knew where Sauron fled, either.

But when the Battle was finally over,

clouds covered the stars, with the conceiver

being brought to Valinor, chained and covered.

Bandage blocked his eyes from vision,

for the eyes are portals where souls hold power,

and at the Ring of Destiny a decision

for Melkor's fate had to be taken; in that very Hour.

Hypocritically and without repentance,

Melkor lay before the feet of Manwë,

his deploration got rejected without vengeance,

he was imprisoned; escape stood no chance.

He was thrown in a Hall of Mandos,

where he had to reflect on his deeds.

For he would eventually have to choose

one of two paths that Redemption preceed.

No one could break out from there,

neither Vala, Elve or simple men,

Melkor would wait for three epochs before

he could ask for forgiveness again.

The Valar gathered again to hold council.

Yet this time there was a fervent dispute.

One of them insisted that the Elves live

in Middle Earth, to heal all wounds and their roots,

aplenty exploring their gifts and their talents,

to wander in the Land that was promised to them,

yet some of the Valar questioned the chances

of evil's cunningness to mistreat the Quendi again.

So some Valar feared allowing the Elves to roam

in the vast dangers of a world unsecured, unsafe,

under the starry skies they called their first home,

besides the Valar their loving friendship craved.

Eventually, the Council of Elohim decided

to invite all the Quendi to live in Valinor,

under the Light of the Two Trees englightened,

to live there, together, fatefully ~ forevermore.

Silence came about, so Mandor uttered:

"Let it be so." And that call evoked

infinite troubles which caused Elves to suffer,

that in the Ages would slowly evolve.

Yet many of the Elves at first didn't listen,

as save for Oromë all Valar seemed ominous,

the Battle shaped the Elves' protective position,

for they feared the Almighty Ones' dominance.

So the Valar sent Oromë with a question,

to try to implore them to send a chosen few

to go to Valinor and gather impressions,

then if the rest liked to, to follow them out of will.

Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë were the ambassadors,

who would later become the first Elven Kings,

and when they arrived in the Sacred Land of Valinor,

they were filled by beautiful, rejoicing feelings.

They fell in love with the purity of the Two Trees,

so they yearned their presence and blessedness fair,

for what's temporarily felt doesn't always foresee

which choice is the right one and which brings despair.

Seemingly, the easy path may bring conviction

that comfort, bliss and even sacredness protect.

Yet... progression shifts circumstances, no prediction

can guarantee all sides that it wants to detect.

So... follow Eru's inner guidance, Elves,

in the epic journey, called Life.

Don't rush to return to the Well

from which you came to the other side.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 12

Oromë returned the ambassadors in Cuiviénen,

where Ingwë, Finwë, and Elwë with authority

told them all they had witnessed in Valinor's Heaven,

trying to convince them to move to the western territory.

This is how the first Elven segmentation commenced;

for most of the relatives of the three representatives

were touched by the words of their leaders, hence,

they were ready to follow Oromë due to the narratives.

Those who came after the Divine Hunter westwards

retained the name of Eldar, as Oromë had first called them,

while the ones who stayed in their natve lands

became the Avari, or the Unwilling who remained in Cuiviénen.

For long Epochs the two tribes got separated;

the Eldar prepared to launch on the expedition,

in three squads they were grouped with designated

leaders, the first one guided by Ingwë with ambition.

His people entered Valinor of the Almighty Ones,

their new blessed name, "the Vanyar", came forth,

the favourite Elves of Manwë and Varda's hearts,

those who never even looked back to Middle Earth.

Few or the mortals have ever talked to the Vanyar,

for they would remain in the lands of Valinor forever;

the second squad, of Finwë, was known as the Noldor;

the Deep Elves of Wisdom, Aulë's friends, endeavoured

in time so ancient to win heavy battles,

in the northern lands where they laboured;

the third clan, the Teleri, during the travels

reached the western shores and favoured

the freedom and the smell of the Seas,

they fell in love with the salty waters,

they desired to remain in the breeze

of the coastline, the marine explorers.

They were known as the Falmari in Aman,

as they sang in chorus with the surf of the sea,

they were so numerous, so their clan

had two Rulers, Elwë Singollo (Grey-cloak) and Olwë.

These are the three clans of the Elven Eldar,

who lived in the far west during the Epoch

of the Two Trees, the Calaquendi, the Elders,

the Elves of Light whose travel had luck.

Some other Eldar, who departed westwards,

didn't have such a success of their mission,

they got lost somewhere along the records

of Mandos' book of life who had other prevision.

The legends tell those were from the Teleri,

who either lived on the shores of Middle Earth, in quest,

or wandered in woods and mountains the eye can see,

whose hearts actually craved to reach the west.

Úmanyar, their saddening denomination,

as they didn't reach the Blessed Kingdom of Aman,

with the Avar they shared the same destination:

to be Moriquendi, Dark Elves, who had in common

the same fate of never seeing the Light

that existed before the Sun and the Moon;

there was a last group that felt fright

when Oromë rode on Nahar and as soon

as he passed to the north of the Sea of Helcar,

they turned further to the west, but far away

in the northern sky they saw reminiscence of war,

where no stars shone so they fled, didn't stay

for the hung vast black clouds scared them,

filled them with fear and with gloomy doubts,

they repented, turned back and it was then

when their trace got lost; unknown whereabouts.

Nothing is known of them to this very day.

They became strangers and missing, threatened.

Whenever they are, hearts always pray

that they found their place where they settled.

Of the coming of the Elves and the captivity of Melkor 13

The march of the Eldar to the west was slow,

the Middle-Earth landscape marvelled with its vastness,

for the travel included pathless wilds and growth

of vegetation, hard to cross; besides, why hasteness?

The Elves were filled with wonder at what their eyes met,

at times they would desire to settle beside rivers, in the plains,

furthermore, certain fear in their sensitive hearts crept,

for though resolute, they had certain ultimate concerns.

Whenever Oromë temporarily left for unknown quests,

they would halt their journey, awaiting his return,

so the march had long periods of contemplation and rests,

the love for the gift of life and nature in them burned.

Eventually, the Eldar passed through a thick woodland,

and came out to discover the banks of a river, overwhelmed,

a vision they had never seen before, an expanse so grand,

and beyond it mountains so high they pierced the stars' realm.

Anduin the Great, the river was later named,

it would mark Middle-Earth's western borders,

even in those ancient days it flew there, chained

by Hithaeglir, Eriador's Misty Peaks, by the water.

In those days these mountauins were far more

fearsome to the sight, a menace, awe-provoking,

for Melkor had raised them to hinder Oromë,

to keep him at distance, while the battle was exploding.

The Teleri long abode upon those river banks,

with a yearning permanently to stay there,

yet the Vanyar and Noldor forgot not their plans,

and emabarked with Oromë on the future's affairs.

When the Hunter departed from the settlers,

the Teleri noticed the heights in solitude,

the obscure peaks filled them with cowardice,

so Elwë pushed them to chase the altitude.

Alas, from the host of Olwë an Elve separated,

he always strode in the rearmost ranks,

Lenwë his name; possibility to shine so waited;

so he led many others to follow their chance.

The group left the westward march,

they walked to the south along the River,

they got lost to their kin, in a search

of their own luck and faith downriver.

They'd be referred to as the Nandor, a unique clan,

a separate people with its own customs and ways,

dwelling by streams and flowing waters, they sang,

and among the Elves they knew best through the days

the nature of all living things; tree, grass and bird;

they had greatest knowledge of Yavanna's kingdom;

later Denethor, the Son of Lenwë, was given birth,

who set out westward again and abandoned his home.

His group of Elves reached bravely Beleriand,

across the mountains, even before the Moon

rose for the first time; yes, they reached that land,

that happened so early, so boldly, so soon.

The Vanyar and the Noldor crossed Ered Luin, in cohesion,

the Blue Mountains that divided Eriador's wide lands

from Beleriand, Middle-Earth's westernmost region,

reaching the Drengist and the Bay of Balar's sands.

When the Elves finally faced the Great Sea in person,

a lot of them turned back into the forests inland

and the highlands of Beleriand; so Oromë left them,

seeking Manwë's counsel, to make them understand.

The Teleri, led by Elwë Singollo (Thingol),

passed through the Misty Mountains,

their host crossed the vast Eriador; the goal -

to reach Valinor's Light and reigns.

For the leader of the host was ever eager

to return back to the Light once beheld;

he also felt a strong bond for the Noldor

and missed his friend Finwë; compelled.

After many years the Teleri too traversed

the Ered Luin into Beleriand's eastern lands,

they settled beside the river Gelion, enforced

a continuous break into their previous plans.

Of Thingol and Melian

There was a notorious Maia,

a relative of the mighty Valar,

her name was Melian, her eyes a

spellbinding magic to admire.

She dwelt in the gardens of Lórien, singing,

no one else was there merrier, wiser or skilled

at the refined art of melody, air and chanting,

whoever heard her voice, got shaken and thrilled.

At the hour when the Lights got mixed,

Melian would start singing in the midst of Lórien,

the Valar abandoned their tasks and fixed

their gaze and audition; the world - auditorium.

The bells of Valmar would go silent,

the streams would turn completely still,

nightingales followed Melian, compliant,

and she taught them how to sing at will.

She had a preference for the dense shadows

of the forests, so chilly, profound and deep,

wherever she stepped, fresh turned all meadows,

and her voice caused all to smile and to weep.

She looked like Yavanna before Arda's Creation,

and after the Quendi awoke around native Cuiviénen,

the Melodious Maia left Valinor, for the Causation

of the pre-dawn silence with her ringing songs then.

When the journey of the Teleri approached its end,

the people remained for a long in Eastern Beleriand,

beyond the river Gelion; the fate of Elwë would extend

to paths unpredicted and myriads of wonders vibrant.

Of Thingol and Melian 2

The Teleri were approaching the journey's end,

so they decided to rest for a while in East Beleriand,

beyond the River Gelion; while their Noldor friends

dwelt westward in the wood of Neldoreth and Region.

The Lord of the Teleri, Elwë, missed greatly

his friend Finwë of his kin's Noldor clan,

so he often went out in the forests, patiently,

in search of him in the depth of the land.

One fateful night he reached the Nan Elmoth forest,

where he overheard the song of nightingales.

He stood motionless under enchantment and stardust

sprinkled on his chest, he felt a slight tingle.

Far away, through the magical chirping of birds,

he could perceive a magical voice singing,

it filled his heart with longing when he heard

that strangest wonderous female chanting.

He forgot his purpose, his quest to find Finwë,

and he followed the birds in the chilly shadows,

lost in the thickness of Nan Elmoth, no way

out of it, no turning back to familiar meadows.

He came into an ethereal and starlit glade,

where he saw Melian for the first time,

upon her face shone Aman's light and blazed

a ray into his core, of love's elexir divine.

She didn't utter a world, a misterious apparition,

Elwë, enamoured, took her by the hand,

an enchantment came upon them; in that condition

they remained there till the trees tall came to stand.

The people of Elwë long sought him, everywhere,

no one could find him, forever was he gone,

so Olwë headed the command of the Elves; a heir

of his duties and strategies, to Aman onward drawn.

Elwë lived long through Middle-Earth's Ages,

yet never did he ultimately come to Valinor,

nor did Melian return there, they ruled as sages

with justice in the forests, bequeathing their lore.

From them came into the veins of Elves and Men

a measure of the blood of those Ainur who had been

with Ilúvatar before the making of Eä; back when

everything in the Universe was a vague blueprint.

Elwë would later become a notorious King,

his subordinates were the Eldar of Beleriand,

named the Sindar Elves, the Twilight Grey kin,

King Greycloak, Elu Thingol shielding the land.

His Queen Melian was the wisest creature

in the entire vast Middle-Earth's realm, immemorial,

her hidden halls were in Menegroth, deeper

than imaginable, in the Thousand Caves of Doriath.

Thingol was great among the Eldar,

and even greater the power of Melian,

he alone among all the race of the Sindar,

had seen the Two Trees in their brilliance.

For that though the was the Umanyar ruler,

he was not considered to be a Moriquendi, this Adar,

and from the love of Elwë and Melian in the future

were born the fairest of the Children of Ilúvatar.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

The Vanyar and the Noldor, after a long time,

reached the Hither Lands' westernmost shores.

The northern coasts' westward-curved design

was separated from Aman only by a strait, so close.

Yet in those waters the bitter, poignant cold of Melkor

had filled the sea with drifting ice blocks and dangers,

so Oromë didn't lead the Eldar through the far north,

instead he guided them through Beleriand's fairness.

There the Eldar, with awe and with fear,

for the first time set eyes on the ocean,

bottomless, vast, wild, uncontrollably austere,

mysteriously melancholic, watery motion.

The Valar requested from Ulmo to speak

to the Eldar who were gazing by the abyss,

the King himself of the obscure bottomless pit,

a real vision, in flesh, proven to really exist.

Rarely Did Ulmo appear in his visible form,

seldom did he speak or make known his presence,

now by his wise words and mighty conch horn,

the Vala, through their souls' convalescence,

transformed their fright to yearning for the sea,

a deep nostalgic love of freedom mixed with longing;

then Ulmo uprooted a lonely island to turn it to a ship,

anchoring it in the Bay of Balar, to assist the Elves in crossing.

Where the waters of Sirion entered the sea,

the Vanyar and the Noldor boarded the vessel,

they sailed, reaching vastness for the eye to see

nothing else but water horizons at the surface level.

Finally! The shores beneath the Mountains of Aman,

legendary, they had seemed an impossible fable,

stood before their eyes, so real! Life anew began

when they entered the blessed Valinor fateful.

They were welcomed with joy in the Heaven of Gods,

meeting face to face the unseen Creators Almigthy.

What inexpressible, ineffable emotions and thoughts

uplifted the Eldar with an overwhelming mighty feel.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 2

Alas, the Teleri were still detained in Middle Earth,

for they dwelt in Eastern Beleriand, close to the sea,

sadly, it happened that the call of Ulmo too late they heard

furthermore a major part of them were waiting for Elwë.

Despite the longing for their king's presence in the journey,

when some Teleri got to know of the other clans' departure,

many of them chose to thread toward Sirion's mouth in hurry,

naming Olwë, Elwë's brother, to lead the people to their fortune.

These Elves remained to abide on the coast of the western seas,

in an eternal yearning for their long-lost sisters and brothers,

Ossë and Uinen fostered the newly formed fraction of the foamy breeze,

teaching them the secrets of the marine arts, songs and discoveries.

The Teleri grew a deepest bond with those salty waters,

just as they had been previously marked by the same affinity,

they rooted their essence in the sea and nautical matters

became their specialty, a sacred bond to live through infinity.

Alas, not only did the Teleri miss the Noldor family,

the Noldor reciprocated the feel, now having reached Aman,

so Ulmo listened to Finwë's deplorations carefully,

and went to take those who were willing to reunite their clan.

Ossë and Uinen's hearts filled up with grief and sorrow,

for their kingdom were the seas of Middle Earth,

around the shores of the Outer Lands; and tomorrow?

No singing voice of the Teleri would here be heard.

So Ossë convinced a few of the Elves to stay

with him in his reign, for he'd miss them greatly,

Falathrim, the Elves of the Falas, was their

new name, the first shipbuilders and sailors of the sea.

In the Brithombar and Eglarest bays they lived,

they selected as their ruler Círdan the Shipwright,

giving to Ossë and Uinen the best possible gift:

their company and loyalty that chose their sight.

Many among Elwë's family dear also decided

to remain here to seek him in the Outer Lands;

otherwise they would have happily reunited

with their Quendi kin in Aman; yet, Elwë's chance.

They came to be known as the Eglath, the Forsaken,

for they didn't arrive in time until Ulmo and Olwë departed,

while the other, timely Teleri would indeed be taken

on the island that brought them back where Creation started.

The Eglath preferred to live in the woods and hills of Beleriand,

for the sea inspired them to mourn beyond endurance;

for their deepest longing was always the same one, called Aman;

they were destined to live in Middle-Earth with perserverance.

Elwë finally awoke from his profound slumber,

got out of Nan Elmoth together with his Melian dear,

he craved the Two Trees' light but ultimately encumbered

this aspiration, for he perceived the light in her face here.

The disheartened people of Elwë already thought

he had been long gone, in good fate or drear,

and how did they rejoice when suddenly they caught

a glimpse of their ruler, who came to appear.

His people laughed, heart beating, screams of ecstasy,

for the unthinkable had became a dream come true,

Elwë now appeared magnificent and they breathlessly

awed him, taller and prettier than any other Eru Creature

with silver hair floating in the wind of fateful glory,

they danced and jumped and hugged and ran,

the start of their new epoch of happiness; the story

of the Elven Kingdom of Elwë, the Sindar ones.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 3

Ossë followed the squad of Olwë and wept,

and when they reached Eldamar, or later Elvenhome,

he invoked the Teleri from the sea's depths

with a migthy voice in midst of the churning foam.

The Teleri overheard their mentor's faraway lament,

so they implored Ulmo to halt for a moment,

for deep inside their fervent wish was to spend

more time with Ossë who after them went.

So Ulmo, eager, anchored the island

in the bottom of the sea, for the Teleri to stay,

for, back at the Council, the Valar's plan

he thought was not the best for the Elven way.

Ulmo understood the heart of the Teleri,

having objected against the Quendi's relocation,

for their home, Middle-Earth, would be

the best place to reach their goal and destination.

The Valar were discontent at that decision,

and Finwë bewailed the absence of Elwë;

knowing his friend was left behind, a prevision

clenched his heart that he was nowhere.

He sensed he would be able to see him only

in the Halls of Mandos, some fateful day,

and the feeling was painful and lonely,

for he craved his presence that was astray.

The island didn't move ever again.

Named Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle,

in the bay of Eldamar it was lain,

where the Teleri lived, still versatile.

The Teleri, underneath the starry firmament,

saw Aman's shores, the land soaked in immortal flames;

Since too long a time they came to spend

in their new home, their language different became.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 4

The Vanyar and the Noldor were destined to live

in the lands of the Imperishable Valinor.

Yet at times they would become rather ruminative

out of nostalgia for the starry atmosphere.

They rejoiced at the Two Trees' eternal lights,

yet the stars in the cosmos had their own charm,

for this reason a passage was cut in the Pelóri's heights,

so that they could peek in the black sparkling chasm.

In the deep valley there that reached the sea,

the Eldar uprose a green, lofty hill, Túna its name,

from the west it was bathed in the light of the Trees,

from the east it lay in shadows that quiet became.

The east side had a view to the Eldamar bay,

the lonely island roaming in the Shadowy Seas,

while through Calacirya, the Cleft of Light, the rays

of the Blessed Realm were seeping through at ease.

The magical light showered the obscure waves

with silver and golden hues, alchemical purification,

and all that beautiful surreal Valinorean grace

reached the Lonely Isle's western shores in restoration.

The radiation made the western shores wonderful,

beautiful and really young, so fresh and green,

it was the first time that flowers happened to grow

at east from Aman's Peaks; a miracle so far unseen.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 5

It was upon the hill Túna that the Elves raised

the city of Tirion, with white walls and terraces;

Mindon Eldaliéva, Ingwë's tower there faced

the sea mists, its lamp silver-plating the watery masses.

Few mortal men have ever sailed that far

as to behold the pale glowing from the tower,

its mysterious radiance resembling a star,

a symbol of the Elven immortal carnal power.

The Noldor and the Vanyar happily lived together

in Tirion upon Túna in friendship for a long while,

mastering crafts and arts, becoming wise and better,

away from gruesome trials and fate in Middle-Earth's exile.

The Elves cared most of all for the White Tree, Telperion,

so Yavanna crafted another one for them, smaller in form,

it resembled its image, save for the fact it didn't carry an

option to shine on its own, yet no less loved at home.

In the Sindarin language they called it Galathilion,

planted upon the terrace beneath the Mindon,

it flourished and put forth its offspring to carry on

its legacy throughout Eldamar, while time went on.

One of these saplings would be later borne

to Tol Eressëa, later known as the tree Celeborn,

from it descended the the line of Nimloth, grown

as the White Tree of Númenor, where it was sown.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 6

Manwë and Varda were fond of the Vanyar,

while Aulë held the Noldor under his guardianship,

from him they learnt in great details his lore,

sometimes even surpassing him in craftmanship.

They grew ever more insatiable for knowledge;

their tongue was ever changing, for they sought

the fairest names for all perceived, in homage

to the perfect Creation the Valar had wrought.

The masons of the House of Finwë were the first,

who, wandering among the hills in search for stone,

discovered the Earth's precious gems, unlocking thirst

to devise tools to shape and cut them; for they shone.

They kept none of these riches, in virtuous sharing,

giving them freely, unconditionally; generously;

enriching Valinor's beauty, for they were caring,

no avidity known to them, gratefully, venerably.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 7

In the later epochs to come the Noldor clan

would return to Middle-Earth, so deeply valiant:

Finwë was their King, who had three sons,

Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin; all three brilliant.

Fëanor was born of Míriel Serindë,

Fingolfin and Finarfin born of Indis of the Vanyar,

among them Fëanor was greatest in lore,

in craftmanship and eloquence, bright like a star.

Fëanor's spirit burned like a living flame,

while Fingolfin was the mightiest in strength;

valour, and steadfast courage - his fame,

these virtues of his were his inner wealth.

Finarfin was the fairest in all heart matters,

remaining a friend to the sons of Olwë,

he took as wife Eärwen from Olwë, her father,

she was the Swan-maiden of Alqualondë.

Fëanor had seven children: Maedhros the Tall;

Maglor the Singer, heard beyond mountains and seas,

Celegorm the Fair, with charm provoking awe,

Caranthir the Dark, serious his gaze, deepest his deeds.

Curufin, the master craftsman, inherited his father's skill,

Amrod and Amras, twins alike in body, spirit and will.

They would become renowned for their admirable hunting,

Celegorm above all delighting the chase and all the jumping.

In Valinor he was often the companion of Oromë,

riding beneath the sound of his mighty horn,

with great heroic acts during their infinite roam,

and thus long-lasting legacy for stories born.

Fingon, King of the Noldor in the Northern Lands,

and Turgon, lord of Gondolin, were the sons of Fingolfin,

their youngest sister Aredhel the White, who understands

providence, riding through the forest, having games to win.

Her cousins often accompanied her there,

yet she gave her heart to none of them,

Ar-Feiniel, with snow-white face and black hair,

clad in silver and white, notorious her fame.

Finarfin's sons were the Faithful Finrod,

later in days named Lord of Caverns, Felagund renowned,

his heirs were also Orodreth, Aegnor and Angrod,

loving Fingolfin's children as if they were of their own.

They had a sister, called Galadriel, the fairest maiden

of all the House of Finwë, with hair as burnished gold,

as if her tresses still emitted the radiance of Laurelin,

whoever missed its light, sought her hair, it is told.

Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië 8

The Teleri dwelt for a long time in Tol Eressëa,

alas their hearts were slowly changing,

they were drawn towards the light beyond the sea,

that beyond the Lonely Isle was spreading.

Their souls were torn in two halfs, contradicted,

one loved the song of the waves in Ossë's realm,

the other one missed their relatives and depicted

their reunion in their imagination overwhelmed.

At the end the craving for the Light dominated.

And at the will of the Valar Ulmo sent Ossë, their friend;

he taught them the naval science, they created

ships of their own for their journey and Ossë sent

a flock of swans with strong steady wings,

they pushed the Teleri ships through the salty masses

in those areas were there were no winds,

the last voyagers reached Aman and Eldamar's waters.

They inhabited that place so they could contemplate

the splendour of the Two Trees shining bright,

they could walk on the Valmar streets and felicitate

each other on the crystal stairs of Tirion's might.

They sailed on boats in Elvenhome,

they wandered in the surf of the sea at will,

their hair under the imperishable light shone,

the light that came from behind the hill.

The Noldor gifted them with many precious stones,

opals, diamonds, crystals, rubies, sapphires,

they scattered the riches in bays and along shores,

they took pearls from the depths that were dire.

Their homes and the halls of Olwë in Alqualondë,

the Haven of the Swans, were seme of pearls,

and many lanterns followed the visible line there,

the harbour of their ships, their city, their world.

They would craft their ships from gold and black agate,

in resemblance they built them to look like swans,

at the border of Eldamar stood so high their gate,

that allowed entrance to whoever they would truly want.

At north of Calacirya, the Pass of Light,

where the stars were vivid and clear,

they lived to explore, to sail, to unite

with their inspiration, empirically dear.

And after a time, the Vanyar fell in love

with the lands of the Valar and the Two Trees,

so they left Tirion and climbed above,

inhabiting the mountains of Manwë in bliss.

That is how the Vanyar separated from the Noldor,

gradually departing, each to their fate and design,

always adventurous, wanting to discover more,

the Noldor ones remembered Middle-Earth declined.

The latter remained in Calacirya, or the hills or the valleys,

from where they could hear the surf of the western seas,

they often travelled, a family of friends and allies,

to the extend of wherever their foot could step and reach.

The people of Túna and Alqualondë still grew a bond,

with Olwë reigning in Alqualondë and Finwë in Tirion,

Ingwë was considered to be the High Elven Ruler, beyond

the separation of cities, folks in all different regions.

Ingwë chose to abide with Manwë in Taniquetil,

where safety, patience and wisdom prevailed,

where the air inspired hope and was tranquil,

and all the plans of Eru were rather half-veiled.

Rarely did Fëanor and his sons stay at the same place,

they were wandering far and wide, through the unknown so bold,

adventures and epic quests were their inner ways,

they reached the borders of Darkness and the Outer Sea cold.

Often were they guests in the halls of Aulë,

while Celegorm preferred Oromë's home,

where he learnt of beasts and birds that be,

starting to talk to them as if one of their own.

All living creatures were safe in Aman back then,

all but the gruesome creatures of Melkor, the Evil Great,

and some of these animals would never be seen when

the Earth would change forevermore, for time doesn't wait.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

At last the Three Eldar Kindreds gathered

in Valinor, in the Noontide of the Blessed Realm;

Melkor was in chains, angry and bothered,

too busy being vile, grim and bitter; overwhelmed.

For Valinor, it was a time of joy and of glory -

long in years, yet rather brief in memory.

The Eldar grew in stature of spirit and body,

The Noldor advanced in craftmanship; exemplary.

Long years they laboured, ever better,

from which sprang countless precious things,

the Noldor even devised the first letters,

Rúmil of Tirion - the sage who invented signs

for recording written speech and song,

either carved upon metal and stone,

or inscribed with pen and brushes long,

for history to be remembered and known.

It was also in those days Curufinwë

was born in Eldamar, in Tirion's royal halls,

the first and most beloved son of Finwë;

Fëanor, the Spirit of Fire, was he called

by his beloved mother Míriel instead,

and by this name he is remembered

in the Noldor traditions' spread,

the glorified Master of Science hot-tempered.

Míriel was also called Serindë,

for her unsurpassed skill with the loom,

her hands most gifted known to be

at broidery; so was the gift of her womb.

Great and radiant was the love between

Finwë and Míriel, blossoming in the happy days

of the Blessed Realm; in the serene

light of the Two Trees they felt purest grace.

Yet in giving life to her son,

Míriel was slowly consumed in body and spirit;

longing for release of the burden

of life, she wanted to withdraw and be free from it.

Having bestowed upon the child both life and name,

she said to Finwë words that are hard to be heard:

"I shall not bear a child anymore - ever again,

my strength was poured wholly into Fëanor's birth."

Finwë was grieved, for the Noldor were still

in the dawn of their days, he hoped for many children,

amid the bliss of Aman, he had other will:

"Will not Aman itself restore your strength then?

Here every weariness finds its rest."

Yet Míriel continued to fade away so pale,

so Finwë thought Manwë knew the best,

who entrusted her to Irmo of Lórien, frail.

Irmo should care for her for a while,

and at their parting Finwë was crestfallen,

he considered the thought so vile

that she'd have to be away, he felt caution.

For he believed they would part for a short time,

that she would return recovered from convalescence,

and her man felt sad she'd miss the period prime

of their newborn son growing without her presence.

"You are right; it is so," said Míriel.

"I would weep, were I not so utterly spent.

Yet do not blame me for this, as well

as not for whatever may come as an event."

She went into the gardens of Lórien,

laying down to rest, seemingly asleep,

her spirit departed silently to heaven,

the Halls of Mandos, leaving Finwë to weep.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Seemingly, Míriel was just asleep;

just as vivid as if she would wake up,

amplifying Finwë's yearning, hollow and deep,

it compelled him to expect and stay up.

The handmaidens of the late wife

looked after her body with tender care;

so her physical temple seemed alive,

yet her presence, departed, was felt nowhere.

Finwë, driven by grief and illusion,

for she was there, yet she was not,

bore a heart full of heavy confusion,

to sit by her corpse was all that he got.

Calling her by tenderest names

caressing her deprived of vitality cheek,

trying to lull her back in vain,

hoping the Word got power, he'd seek

to evoke her spirit to her vessel,

now an empty shell to irritate his senses,

he's stay there, hushed, he'd nestle,

until he lost faith and withdrew his caresses.

For all his efforts were in vain,

the only joyless one within the Blessed Realm,

yet to numbness turned his pain

and he stopped going to Lórien that overwhelmed.

Why waste his heart's vitality to emptiness?

All that was but a promise leading to nothing,

the one you feel when, prepared to process

a reward, it shatters from inside in sudden shutting.

So Finwë chose life instead of slow lingering.

He had a child to raise, to educate, to love.

So he redirected his energy to parenting,

leaving behind that love he had to outlive.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

XIV. Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Finwë devoted his entire love to his child;

Fëanor grew swiftly, as if secret fire burnt

deep inside of him, specially designed

to make him fatefully skillful and versed.

Fëanor became tall, handsome and handy,

with a piercing and clear gaze; black raven hair,

firmly decisive in every deed he would be;

no one could change his will or make him waver.

Among all of the Noldor he was the wisest,

the most skilled one, back then and onwards,

and he dedicated all his ardour and zest

to craftmanship and scientific hard works.

When he was young, he decided to meliorate

Rúmil's work, inventing a new, better script,

the Eldar still do to this very day use the great

alphabet for their writing needs and manuscripts.

And again, he was the first one to find a way

how to create precious stones of higher quality

compared to the ones hidden in the earth per se,

imbedding in them aspects of cosmic reality.

The first ones he crafted were transparent and clear,

under the starry light they sparkled with silver fire,

even brighter than Helluin under the dome, so dear,

and other crystals that reflected imagery and desires.

The visions would appear inside, as if from afar,

yet sharp as if through the eyesight of Manwë's eagles,

perfect alchemy embedded in their core; so aware,

rarely did Fëanor give rest to his hands, or mind; a seeker.

For his destiny played a central role in Arda's devising;

he was a brilliant genius with greatly fulfilled potential;

yet, tragedy in fate always chooses to trigger rewinding

lessons that though ultimately precious, feel drearily painful.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Even though still in his earliest youth,

Fëanor took Nerdanel as his bride,

the daughter of the greatest smith -

Mahtan, who had Aulë as his guide.

Fëanor learnt the art of crafting

from his capable father-in-law;

his knowledge was steadily expanding

regarding stones, gems and metal.

Nerdanel also possessed a firm will,

yet she was more patient than her man,

for she'd tame her mind to be still,

trying to fathom the mentality of elseone,

for she desired not to conquer wits,

rather she aimed to embody the cosmic truth,

so at first she often managed to dismiss

Fëanor's outbursting episodes, back then - she could.

Later on his deeds started offending her,

so they shortly started turning cold to each other;

Nerdanel bore seven sons to him; at their blessed birth,

she passed on her temper to some of them; not to all brothers.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

It happened so that Finwë took

for a second wife Indis the Fair;

one of the Vanyar; she didn't look

similar to Miriel; nothing to compare.

She was Ingwë's close relative;

and her hair was purely golden,

she was svelte and light, positive;

Finwë fell in love and smiled again.

The shadow of Miriel didn't leave

neither his home, nor his heart;

and the son he praised most and believed

in, was Fëanor, who'd still depart.

For Fëanor didn't fancy his father's new marriage;

he bore no love for Indis or her sons,

who were Fingolfin and Finarfin he'd disparage,

so he lived separately, exploring Aman.

He was too busy with adventures through the land,

he collected wisdom and secrets of his crafts, hence;

regarding the events that later on occurred unplanned,

many souls blamed them on their home's severance.

Had Finwë overcome his deadly sorrow,

had he dedicated all his inner virtue and not mourn,

to the raising, in the name of the new tomorrow,

of his son who, instead, was somewhat cold and stern;

fate wouldn't lead to the curses of Fëanor,

unfortunate chains of occurrences would be avoided;

great evil would be prevented, for their misdemeanor

marked the Noldor life records; providence exploited.

Yet Indis' children were mighty and glorious,

the story of the Eldar would have lost a lot

if they hadn't come to life, these spirits victorious,

so Eru's All-seing Eye knows what or what not.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

While Fëanor and all Noldor masters

were labouring with greatest joy,

while their crafts were increasing ever faster,

and Indis was raising her beloved boys,

the Dawn of Valinor was approaching its end,

for Melkor spent three epochs in captivity,

in Mandos' Halls, to solitude condemned,

until his verdict exhausted its effectivity.

As Manwë had promised to him initially,

Melkor was brought before the Valar thrones again,

seeing their glory and bliss, he, prejudicially,

felt bitter envy in his heart, covered in pain.

He glanced at the Children of Iluvatar,

sat by the sides of the Almighty Ones,

blackest hatred was all that he bore

against the merry creatures, at once.

He caught a glimpse of innumerable precious stones,

started craving them avidly for his own self,

yet all these thoughts he buried deep in his bones,

putting on hold his revenge against the Elves.

For he wanted the evil plot to mature,

to become ripe and scatter the fruit of malice,

so that what the Elven ones would endure

would be prolonged; poison in their chalice.

At the gates of Valmar Melkor crumbled

at the feet of Manwë, begging for forgiveness,

swearing an oath to become humble

and make up for his misdeeds with givingness.

He promised he'd assist every Valarin endeavour,

even if that meant he'd be granted the last position

among the free ones in Valinor, he'd be the helper

of every soul there, until he'd be restored in redemption.

Manwë then granted him a pardon;

yet the Valar were still suspected distortion,

they thought he definitely needed a warden,

so he had to stay in Valmar as precaution.

Alas, Melkor's speeches seemed gracious,

not only the Eldar, but also the Valar

received wise advice, so valid, efficacious,

when they turned to his own "I AM" star.

After a while they allowed him to walk freely,

and Manwë believed he got cured from corruption,

for Manwë didn't bear not a drop of inner evil,

unable to comprehend the ways of deconstruction.

For Manwë knew that at the very beginning,

Melkor was equal to him in Iluvatar's mind, at core,

he couldn't fathom Melkor's wicked reckoning,

for love had fanished from his heart, forevermore.

Ulmo didn't really get deceived, though,

Tulkas also clenched his fists firmly,

yet they respected Manwë's decision by law;

rebellion against rebels would also end up deadly.

Of Fëanor and the Release of Melkor

Melkor despised from the bottom of his heart

all of the Eldar, for they were joyful and wondrous;

besides, they were the reason for the Valarin wrath

that banished him from the Utumno fortress.

So ever more he pretended to be full of love,

he sought the friendship of all Elves,

he offered advice, help and supervision of

every initiative of their blessed selves.

It's true, the Vanyar didn't believe him too much,

for they dwelt in the light of the Two Trees,

they didn't want anything else than to watch

the holiness of the Divine Presence in Peace.

Melkor neglected the Teleri on his own part,

for he deemed them too weak and unworthy

of the devising of his dark schemes and dirt,

so the Noldor he chose to corrupt, trying to convert them.

The Noldor greeted the wise secrets he shared

with them happily, for they craved erudition of worth;

they listened to some words they were not prepared

for that they had better never actually heard.

Later on Melkor insisted on the dubious fact

he had taught Fëanor many skillful techniques;

which would cause on the Noldor Elve the impact

needed to create his best works and relics.

Yet that is a lie born out of envy and greed,

for Fëanor was the one among the Eldar ones

that despised him most; let alone to need

his contribution to his original artwork done?

Yes, it was Fëanor, the son of Finwë,

the first one in Arda to call Melkor Morgoth;

and although Fëanor's heart truly would be

full of mistrust against the Valarin thought,

that was incited by Melkor unnoticeably,

from within, a discord that divides,

turns one against the other unforgivably,

depriving mercy from salvation against lies,

although Fëanor was subject to cold alienation,

never did he seek advice from anyone else,

save from his wife, Nerdanel; then he hastened

and lost connection even with her, losing her defense.

For Nerdanel was wise and saved some of the trouble,

alas, he turned obstinate and self-convinced,

and instead of easing him, her advice made it double,

for he stubbornly acted oppositely at his whim.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

At that time the treasures were created

that became the greatest Elven works;

for at the peak of his skilfullness, fated,

Fëanor desired something new and of worth.

Maybe he was touched by the foreshadowing,

by an omen for the coming days of destiny;

he pondered on the possible ways of preserving

the imperishable light of the two trees successfully.

In great secrecy and fruitful silence

he undertook a great mission that contained

all of his knowledge and agility in science,

and all that resulted in the Silmarils, untainted.

They appeared to be in resemblance

three precious stones and we will never know

what they bear inside, a transcendence,

until the End of the Days that will show

how the Sun will extinguish at once,

and the Moon will crumble down,

followed by the tremulous occurrence

of Fëanor's return, awaited and renowned.

For Fëanor perished long before the Sun

would start shining from the firmament;

now he abides in the Waiting Halls, a missed one

by his beloved kin; expecting judgement.

The stones looked like diamond crystals,

yet infinitely firmer, so no force within Arda

could break them and dim their inward spirals,

bearing codes protected by the gems' surface.

Yet for the Silmarils, the crystals that bore them,

meant for their own essence not more than the

perishable bodies of the Children that wore their

inner ardour filling their particles with eternality.

Fëanor brought to life the inner flame

of the Silmarils, mixing rays of the Trees of Valinor.

And that light is still alive even today,

even if the Trees withered in times now forlorn.

For that is the reason for the sharp shining

of the Silmarils even when deeply hidden in a treasury box,

with their own light, just as Varda's stars; beings,

alive and merry, rejocing, accumulating and emitting Lux.

Every single soul that abided in the beloved Aman

observed mesmerisedly the work of Fëanor's hands;

Varda blessed the Silmarils to be invincible against

every unclean touch that meant to desecrate and damn.

Mandos foretold that the fate of everything in Arda,

the earth solid, the seas, all creatures, the skies,

were tied to the Silmarils that actually bore the

very core of Eru's Flame; the Source but capsulized.

Great zeal did Fëanor feel for these creations,

alas, every overdone passion turns to corruption;

blessings untamed and uncontrolled are damnations;

possessive inclinations turn greed to destruction.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Melkor started craving the Silmarils,

just as once he had desired the Imperishable Flame,

the same the source of these intimate thrills,

the seek of God but perverted turns awe to pain.

Even the vaguest memory of their splendour

would immediately start corroding him like acid,

the yearning pushed him to demolish Fëanor,

to end the Valarin-Elven friendship, to blast it.

He cunningly hid his endeavours deep inside,

his carnal appearance didn't give it at all away,

who knows that his deadest depths would hide,

masked as friendly advice, alas - disguised decay.

His divinely pointless but prolonged work

slowly, invisibly led to fruition of evil mess

for whoever sows lies, withdraws then to lurk,

observing spitefully from distance the distress,

caused by the nets of division and conquest,

discord, having been planted, always multipies,

then the mastermind enjoys in secrecy the rest,

how the victims continue spreading his own lies.

With their own eyes.

Under God's skies.

While unity dies.

But God never tries.

His plan just develops for Eru's glory.

So eventually it's not God who worries.

So the Elves, having been hooked by the bait,

Melkor having prepared the ground with rancid patience,

yes... he was avid but as Elohim he still knew how to wait,

and he found ears ready to absorb secret damnations.

For the curious ears are not at all encouraged

by the forces of divine to seek premature Lore,

failed tests at proving knowledge get scourged

by fate, for arrogance is punishable by the Law.

Some tongues would heartily spread the ember

of the heard secrets, the first failed trial of knowledge,

friend deceived friend through the lies of the pretender,

veiled as wisdom proving one's discerment; instead - a sacrilege.

Oh, Noldor, oh Noldor, how bitterly you'll pay,

for the foolishness of listening Melkor with trust.

For now.... enjoy the last beautiful days

of peace and light before repaying debts becomes a must.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

When Melkor saw how many bought his lies,

he started roaming more often among the Elves,

his graceful words would unnoticeably tie

them in nets, as if these thoughts came from themselves.

The listeners of his delusions disguised as advice

would recall these suggestions as if their own;

Melkor ignited visions that below the Eastern skies

they could build kingdoms and their own crowns.

These realms would be mighty and glorious,

the kings would ordine in the land they would rule;

then Melkor imprinted the idea so hideous

that the Valar brought the Elves to Aman's world

only because they feared the Elven beauty,

that their kin would multiply across the broad land,

after that, of course, impossible it would be

to contain their creational power they'd have at hand.

For Ilúvatar had gifted them with the ability

to co-create, just as their chieftains of forms,

furthermore, Melkor added to the credibility

of that suspicion with another source of alarm.

For the Valar expected the future apparition

of the human folk the Elves weren't aware of;

Manwë hadn't still revealed, as premonition,

that another race would receive the Valarin love.

Melkor's cunning plan was to take advantage

of the reasonable silence of Manwë, caused

by the mandatory Law predicting damage

of prematurely revealed results because

every hidden knowledge is sacred,

whenever a plan is still to be born,

yet not confiding may turn to hatred,

where mistrust replaces faith in the throne.

So Melkor amplified the gap, seizing the chance,

he whispered of the coming of the mortal men,

save for he didn't even comprehend those ones,

for amid the Third Song he was too busy to pretend,

too ingulfed in his part, of chaos, discord and vortex,

he didn't even pay attention to what Eru chanted,

so to him these future arriving creatures were complex,

so vague was the seed of doubt he planted.

Yet this was enough for the rumour to spread,

sometimes ambiguity works even better,

for truth crystallises in the One's eternal stand,

while lies lead to chains of tangled clatter.

Since truth just dawns as inner insight,

chaotic thoughts that give no rest

are the source of dimming of the light,

when confusion convinces it knows the best.

The Elves started believing in misinformation;

that the mortal humans would be easier to control,

due to their fragile nature of carnal dissipation,

the Valar planned for the humankind to grow

in the land of Middle Earth, depriving the Elves

of their righteous claim over the land as firstborns;

as immortal, beautiful, immaculate Selves

that unnoticeably let pride in to become the norm.

So apparently the Valar had brought them west

to keep them in captivity under the light

to make them forget what lay in the rest

of the world and maybe it was time to fight.

All that was a blatant lie, yet a successful one.

Never did the Valar desire free will's depravation,

also, rarely would humans believe elseone,

take advice, listen, have consistency, let alone patience.

So the will of mortal men is like a castle in the sand,

unsusceptible to forces against disintegration,

destined to return to the mud in the land,

so there's no point to try its immortalisation.

Yet who knows the gift of Eru for these men,

the alchemical processes forging that kind,

for the hits of the ocean waves smoothen

the mollusks till they become golden and shine.

What did the Elves understand of mortal fate?

Or of creatures they had never interacted with?

So while Manwë was obliged to wait and wait,

the Eldar believed in Melkor's deceptive wit.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Thus, the Valar didn't perceive the danger -

the poison that corroded Valinor's peace.

The Noldor, grumbling, turned to strangers,

forgetting the source of their gifts...

They devoted their hearts to pride,

although their knowledge and possessions

came to light from their Valarin guides,

talents the Noldor twisted with passion.

The new flame of yearning for freedom

and for vast reigns ignited in Fëanor's chest.

Melkor laughed at him and his delusion,

for he despised Fëanor the most, with unrest.

For Melkor craved the Silmarils avidly,

waiting for a chance to be able to seize them;

Fëanor kept them meticulously; an agony

for the Elohim - consumed and condemned.

Regardless of all that Melkor's ever done,

he didn't really need mere external configurations;

for he was chosen to be among the ones

who could bring life forward from zero to new creations.

But has he ever really shut to the current of malignity,

to feel the silence within that utters the truth?

To perceive the transcendental imperishability,

that he already had it all, more than he would?

For he craved the Triune Flame of the Center,

that was his first glimpse, forever captivating him,

he couldn't understand that he could only enter

through the heart and not through any outer things.

Melkor was aiming at representatives of lesser kingdoms,

a way to express that he wanted to be the Source himself,

for possessing the Silmarils would mean a way of dominance

over Eru's Flame, yet it was just a jewel toy of an Elve,

for Eru that stone meant nothing but a fragment

of Life's manifesting force, essence in frames,

for differences disintegrate in a blink of a moment,

for all are sparks in atoms, for Life all's the same.

For the only thing that could make Melkor happy

would be if he realised what total death meant;

then feel gratitude for God's immortality,

erupting with virtue's inexhaustible intent.

For the truth is simple and it is to feel thankfully,

beyond the narrowing scenarios of a magical game,

when spells dissolve, it is time for Aum's alchemy,

a river of everything where nothing stays the same.

So... Fëanor suffered from the same condition;

the greed of not sharing, the desire to possess;

he only took out the stones during festive traditions,

to put them on his forehead and feel how they bless.

On all other occasions, he hid them in his treasury,

in Tirion, guarded, in hidden depths without access,

his love for the Silmarils mixed with avidity, weary;

only his father and sons saw them; hidden from the rest.

Fëanor fell for the illusion of matter and time,

where the outlines convince they are realer

than the essence that formed them; "They're mine!"

While all inside is Unity; and Fëanor a stealer.

For the Light did not belong to him after all,

the Flame, the Source, the Three-Fold Life;

and all who claim power over the One, shall

be humbled in lessons; separated, to contrite!

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Fëanor and Fingolfin, precious Finwë's sons,

were great rulers and everyone dignified them in Aman;

yet pride in their souls for rights and control won,

and Melkor took advantage of their weakness in common.

The Vala spread new lies in Eldamar,

and soon Fëanor overheard the hearsay;

that Fingolfin and his sons lately were

determined to overthrow Finwë... and his heir.

The deep reason behind this wicked scheme

apparently was that the Valar wanted

the Silmarils outside of Tirion's regimen,

to fall under their dominion; warranted.

Fingolfin and Finarfin, reluctant to forgive,

were reached by other convincing nonsense;

"Beware! The proud son of Míriel has no love

for Indis' offsprings; he will banish you, hence,

from Túna, as he has a tight grip of his father,

he has gathered strength and has become mighty,

he does not consider you to be truly his brothers,

all he cares for is his own glory; oppose him!"

When Melkor saw that his lies were lingering;

the Noldor were full of arrogance, wrath and vice;

he started whispering of weapons, triggering

the launch of the forging of swords, axes, of spikes."

They crafted shields, decorated by the emblems

of many tribes and families, from which rivalry stormed;

they spoke to no one of their arsenal's assemblage,

for everyone though they were the only one forewarned.

Fëanor built a secret workshop; that Melkor knew not;

where he forged swords for himself and his sons,

he crafted high helmets; red feathers on them he put,

Mahtan mourned for sharing his science once,

with Fëanor and Nerdanel, the wife of the Elve.

Apparently, this knowledge should have stayed hidden;

for the fools spilled the sacred wisdom, thus expelled;

for God's mysteries shall not be abused as forbidden

misuse of what was confided for unity's purpose;

deeds to be rectified through some painful lessons;

the debt - repaid, save for repeated mistakes, or worse;

and patience is the only means to end the trials' sessions.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

Thus, with sinister rumours, false advice,

and with prematurely shared knowledge,

Melkor ignited enmity through his lies

in the Noldor hearts; desire to avenge.

Their discord put to an end the Blessed Days

of Valinor, where the pure glory dimmed;

Fëanor would already unveil his new ways,

rebelling with speech against the Elohim.

He declared out loud that he'd leave Valinor,

that he'd free those Noldor who'd follow him;

he spread disharmony, acting as a challenger,

and Finwë got concerned, for deeply within

he sensed the source of the arising fatality,

a premonition, an omen that felt treasonably,

so he summoned his noblemen, validly,

to a concil, to decide how to act, reasonably.

Then Fingolfin, steadfast, ran into that site,

he stood before Finwë and he spoke unto him:

"My King and Father, won't you tame the pride

of our brother Curufinwë, haven't you seen

that they call him, and in that they're right,

the Spirit of Fire, who speaks for our peoples,

as if he were the King with authoritative might,

for I think it would be rather needless

to say that once it was you yourself

to convince the Quendi to follow the Valar,

you took the Noldor where we dwell,

through perilous paths to the Light of Eldamar.

And if today you still don't regret it,

at least two of yours sons truly would

respect your decisions, and I bet it,

you left Middle Earth behind for good."

Before Fingolfin had the chance to finish,

Fëanor ushered into the fateful hall,

with a helmet and a sword; he diminished

the speech of his brother he forestalled.

"So it is as I thought" Fëanor uttered,

"My brother by nature has already rushed

before our father" his armours clattered,

"As many times before" he added with disgust.

Then he turned to Fingolfin and drew his sword:

"Shoo and take the place that you deserve!"

Fingolfin bowed before Finwë; left through the door;

yet Fëanor ran to him, showing the purpose he served.

"See, half-brother!" he said firmly and boldly,

touching his heart with the tip of his sword,

"That's sharper than your tongue; try to scold me

or take away my seniority, or our Father's love", cold,

Fëanor threatened Fingolfin with his death:

"Maybe then I will free the Noldor ones

by depriving you of your very last breath,

put a halt to your guile, just in an instance."

Many overheard those words, for Finwë's home

was located amid the square below the tower of Mindon;

yet Fingolfin didn't answer to what his brother had sworn,

and silently went to search his brother, namely Finarfin.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

The Noldorin discord could not be hidden from the Valar anymore,

yet its seeds had already been sown in the somber darkness.

When Fëanor started talking openly against them and call for

rebellion, they decided it was his pride that had caused the mess.

Alas, airness had already penetrated the hearts of all the Noldor,

Manwë got sad, but he only observed and didn't utter a word.

The Eldar had come freely here, so they were allowed to exit Valinor;

the Valar deemed it madness, yet they would never deter.

Nonetheless, Fëanor's deeds couldn't be undermined,

righteous anger and sorrow clenched the Valar inside.

They summoned him before the gates of Valmar to rewind

all that he had spoken and done; to answer for his pride.

They evoked everyone who'd been showing solidarity,

everyone who knew details of those deeds and events;

Fëanor stood before the Ring of Doom to warrant the

incentives that caused his acts, for his own defense.

It was at that trial the cunningness of Melkor was revealed;

so Tulkas left the council immediately to seize him for a hearing.

Fëanor wasn't found innocent either; brute force he yielded,

he disturbed Valinor's peace and drew a sword to his sibling.

Mandos then uttered: "You speak of slavery;

yet if this is the case, you won't escape from it anywhere.

For Manwë is a ruler not of Aman solely,

but of the entire Arda; your deeds are unjust everywhere.

So either within Aman, or outside of it, it's all the same providence.

Now hear your fate: "Leave Tirion for twelve years,

where you pronounced the threat; seek advice from your own self, hence,

do not forget who you are; after this term expires,

your act will be forgotten and will remain a memory,

this is if the others forgive you truly, from the heart,

then Fingolfin stepped in readily, sincerely:

"I forgive my brother" - with faith in a new start.

Yet Fëanor did not answer, he stood silent before the Valar,

he turned his back to the council and left Valmar at once; with

his seven sons departed in exile in Valinor's northern border,

where they build a fortress and a treasury deeply below it.

Of the Silmarils and the unrest of the Noldor

The outcast family collected in the fortress of Formenos

infinity of precious stones; weapons they forged;

they hid the Silmarils in an iron hall they chose

for its secureness; Finwë their father, Tirion's Lord,

also came to live there out of his love for them;

and Fingolfin remained to rule in his kingdom.

So, seemingly, Melkor's lies affected their stem,

yet Fëanor had actually achieved discord on his own.

The bitterness that Melkor had sown in the family

would linger for a long while, even amid the descendants.

For sometimes biased senses may be full of irrationality,

unaware of their ultimate blood-bound interdependence.

When Melkor found out his tricks had come to light,

he fled swiftly and started to hide in morbid places,

between the shadows of the hills, in mysterious twilight,

Tulkas sought for him in vain, yet not even vague traces.

The folks of Valinor had the faint impression

that the rays of the Two Trees might have slightly dimmed.

The shadows grew taller and, despite the discression

of that change, an inner premonition, alerted, somewhat thinned.

There was not even a glimpse of Melkor in Valinor,

no news emerged regarding his location; he had vanished;

suddenly!, he appeared at Fëanor's fortress' doors,

trying to lure him further, now that he was banished.

He offered him alliance with a deeply cunning speech,

trying to induce him to free himself from the Valar.

"See that I was right; you were thrown out of reach,

unrighteously in exile, yet your heart still holds power.

It is free and brave, such as all it said in Tirion,

so I shall help you escape these lands of imprisonment.

Am I not a Valar? I deserve the same recognition;

always a Noldorin friend; the folk most talented and potent."

Fëanor, however, was all but not a fool;

besides, he still carried a lingering vitriol

due to the himiliation before Mandos; so, cool,

he succumbed not to the plots of the ghoul.

He wondered, instead, trying to assess the pretext,

whether the could trust him with a potential escape;

and, Melkor, sensing his hesitation, he used a context

he knew could wound him the most; the Silmarils he craved.

"Your fortress is strong and you guard it keenly;

alas, do not believe that any treasury can keep the Silmarils secure,

as long as in the Valarin kingdom, they are obscenely

engangered; so don't think twice and follow me with all your valour."

The deceitfulness was slightly overdone beyond its goal in that phase;

the words struck a cord and ignited a wilder flame than Melkor imagined;

with ardorous gaze Fëanor pierced the beauty of the enemy ablaze,

gaining insight on his yearning for the Silmarils; impassioned,

his contempt prevailed beyond his fear that arose,

and Fëanor cursed Melkor and ordered him coldly:

"Get out of my gate, you prisoner of Mandos!"

And he slammed shut the gates at his face, boldly.

He slammed them shut at the face of the mightiest one in Eä,

so Melkor ingloriously and embarassedly slipped away,

yet the One who rose in Might knew it was the time to prepare,

not yet time for vengeance, despite the rage that decayed.

Finwë trembled out of apprehension,

so he sent the word to Manwë at Valmar;

the messengers arrived there with tension,

where the Valar had just gathered together;

for a council - the prolonged shadows bothered them,

Oromë and Tulkas immediately darted after the villain;

but just as they were starting the chase, just then,

Elven agents came to notify of his ferocious apparition.

He had run away through Calacirya as a stormy cloud,

the Elves had seen him from the top of the Túna hillock,

the Teleri of Alqualondë caught a glimpse of him around

their port, directed to Araman; what an utter shock!

That is how Melkor left Valinor forever.

The Two Trees shone serenely for a longer while,

the Valar sought news of their enemy; never

did they find such; in vain their quest in the wild.

Such as a black cloud accumulates its thickness,

in the faraway forming storm of terror and damage,

doubt obscured the previously endless happiness

of all those in Aman due to what was mismanaged.

Of the darkening of Valinor

When Manwë came to know of Melkor's direction,

he deemed it clear where the enemy was headed to;

in his previous lair in Middle Earth, with retrospection,

to revive his device; of which they mostly had no clue.

Oromë and Tulkas rushed to the North in a fruitless pursuit;

they found no hints at the Teleri shores or the wastelands,

expanding to the icy zone; yet Melkor would always convolute,

for he had lured them there, fleeing south with evil plans.

For Melkor was still one of the Valar, doted on with gifts,

he could change his appearance or wander formless,

soon he'd lose his ability to do so and shapeshift,

forever bound to his ugly might but somewhat less.

So, unnoticed, Melkor reached the grim zone of Avathar.

Narrow lands at the north of the Eldamar Bay,

in the eastern foothill of the Pelori that were

still unexplored and unlit; desolate shores and waves.

There, among the steep mountain walls,

the frosty black sea; deepest shadows and dull skies,

in Avathar, Ungoliant undisturbed would strawl,

having built a den in secrecy, with lurking eyes.

The Eldar knew not where she had come from,

some say in ancient epochs Melkor had corrupted her,

first when he had avidly looked at Manwë's kingdom,

she had sworn to serve the evil master and to only hurt.

Soon she renounced the alleged lord, to serve

her gluttony alone and no one else beyond her hunger,

to swallow everything she could, for she starved

no matter what she sucked in, the void was ever under.

She hid in the south, for Oromë and his hunters

had their attention too alerted to the northern lands,

in the unprotected south of Arda, the lair of an abductor,

she remained for a long while, unbothered by no one.

From there she crept to the shine of the Blessed Realm,

for she simultaneously craved the light and despised it,

it made her starve, all her senses it would overwhelm,

ultimately she decided she would eat it; and she eyed it.

Of the darkening of Valinor

Ungoliant lived in a bottomless chasm,

she acquired the form of a monstrous spider;

she'd weave black nets, reeking of miasm,

in the mountain gorge that would perfectly hide her.

There, she sucked in every form of light

that she managed to maliciously track down;

she spewed forth the substance with spite,

corrupting it to suffocating shadows all around.

She did all that until the light stopped reaching her lair.

Insatiable hunger started corroding her - damnation;

it tormented her with cravings she could not bear,

until it drove her to seek beyond, out of desperation.

Melkor, stealthily, came to Avathar to seek her,

with the visage he wore as a tyrant in Utumno,

a grim master, enormous and scary, who'd hurt

every form of life and hope, just in order to undo.

There, in the blackest adumbration and evil,

that were invisible even to Manwë from his heights,

Melkor and Ungoliant plotted revenge so lethal,

just to satiate vindictiveness that only knew lies.

Yet when Ungoliant knew of Melkor's strategy,

she started doubting, setting inner defensive barriers,

she started hesitating between greed and depravity,

and fear of the Aman's mighty Rulers and warriors.

Because of that she dared not leave her den,

and Melkor started convincing her sweetly, with demand:

"Do as I say, and if you're still hungry, then,

I'll give you whatever you want, with my two hands."

He made a promise, without wavering, as always;

and in his soul, he'd secrety laugh, as he'd usually do;

that's how the big thief lures the small one and employs

them to act as they're told; falsely and without a clue.

Of the darkening of Valinor

When they departed, Ungoliant entwined

a cloak of darkness, namely of unlight

around Melkor, where everything went blind

and got absorbed without a sign of life.

The eyes couldn't discern anything there,

for Ungoliant had used the fabric of the void, unreal;

she wove her nets, to which she'd adhere,

till she reached, from gorge to crenel, Taniquetil.

She climbed to Hyarmentir, which was the summit

of the mountains at Taniquetil's far south - undefended.

The Valar didn't really actively watch over it,

for at west of the Pelori a crepuscular wasteland extended.

At east the mountains soared above the sea's infinitude,

only underneath the forlorn Avathar a piece of land,

yet now at the top Ungoliant lay dark, preparing for loot,

Melkor climbed, too, and upright, observed and planned.

He glanced at the Preserved Kingdom, his stare was cold,

where Oromë's woods were spreading out so youthfully,

at west the meadows and fields of Yavanna, made of gold,

full of the divine grain, the plants' tribute awaiting fruitfully.

Yet Melkor was watchig to the north, where Valmar lay at peace

with its bright plains and silvery domes, bathed in light,

its source the mixed rays of the Laurelin and Telperion trees;

and he grinned, evil, and his face was a gruesome sight.

He dashed headlong through the long west slopes,

Ungoliant followed him near and her darkness hid him,

and Melkor... knew that now the Valar actively hoped,

for it was a time of their annual Festivity and Faithful Hymns.

Of the darkening of Valinor

Yavanna had assigned the time for blooming

and for the fruition of all that grew in Valinor merrily.

At every first harvesting of fruit for consuming,

Manwë'd organise a feast for Eru's glory, for prosperity.

All peoples of Valinor would gather on Taniquetil,

to pour their joy in music and songs, and recitals.

Manwë had decided, that time, to make it even feel

ever greater than every other one since the arrival

of the Eldar in Aman, for Melkor's escape did forebode

futue grief and mishaps across the lands of this world;

who knew what he would manage to twist and corrode

before they managed to tame him again, for now undeterred.

So Manwë, nonetheless, wanted to fix the evil

that had arisen in the Noldorin proud hearts,

so he invited them in his palaces in Taniquetil

to put the princely quarrels to an end; a new start.

Manwë hoped the deceit of the enemy would be released,

their peace restored, back to their innate virtue,

for that he'd spend so many days to decorate and he rehearsed,

with fragile hope in his vulnerable soul; he still had no clue.

The Vanyar arrived at the aromatic and romantic setting,

where all was harmonious and overflowing with love,

so did the Noldor from Tirion come for a resetting,

the Maiar and Valar appeared, triumphing, from above.

The population started chanting before Manwë and Varda,

in the infinitude of their beautiful heavenly retreat,

the Elves started dancing, full of faith, belief and ardour,

on the green slopes of the mountains, clueless of defeat.

They observed the Two Trees at west of the mountainous incline,

the ample streets of Valmar became vacant; quiet - Tirion's stairs,

the entire country doozed in calmness and the Trees would shine,

the Teleri would sing beyond, at the sea shores, of shadows - unaware.

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