Author’s Note: The events surrounding the Darkening of Valinor are scantily described in the Silmarillion, and elsewhere in Tolkien’s works. Thus, much of this story, especially concerning the events before the Darkening, is pure conjecture, based on the belief that the trial and exile of Fëanáro would have been a topic of concern for all the Elves of Eldamar, and that there were ramifications which affected not only the Noldor but all the inhabitants of Aman, Eldar and Valar alike. Therefore, motivations and actions are attributed to various characters to which some readers may object, but this is how the story presented itself to me.

With the actual Darkening, I have followed the Silmarillion as closely as possible, as well as incorporating additional material found in HoME, particularly from The Book of Lost Tales I and Morgoth’s Ring, but I have added my own ideas into the mix, especially with regards to what is happening among the Vanyar and Teleri during this time. It is to be remembered that the Silmarillion is written from the viewpoint of the Exilic Noldor, and so their perceptions of the truth of what happened are somewhat suspect. With the departure of the Noldor, what occurs afterwards among the Elves who remained behind is simply my own invention, though logically (it is hoped) following on what has happened previously in the story.

Naturally, all Eldarin words are Quenya. Words from the language of the Valar, if used, are so noted.

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Prologue: Lehta Mandostello

Year of the Trees 1400:

Darkness was all he knew, was all he had ever known. Darkness and silence. The two were absolute within his cell and he had ceased to remember light and sound. At first he had screamed curses at the dark but after a time that could not be measured he had ceased his ranting, stilling himself into silence. Eventually, even his thoughts quieted to nothingness. He existed in darkness and silence and he found that he preferred it that way.

Thus, when the door of his cell opened he snarled in agony at the light that flooded the cell and sought entrance into his fëa, though it was only a single candle flame. He flinched at the soft sounds of feet crossing the threshold and when the chains that bound him to his throne slipped off him the sound grated on his ears.

"When you are ready, Melkor, you may leave this cell, but in fana only."

He blinked rapidly to clear the tears of pain from his eyes and looked upon one whom he hated: Námo. The Lord of Mandos stared at him dispassionately. Melkor glanced about and noticed that Tulkas and Oromë were also there, their expressions blank of any emotion.

So. The three who had been there when Námo shut fast his prison door were there at his release. He attempted a smile, the muscles around his mouth twitching. He was clearly out of practice. He would have to work on it.

"Is my sentence up so soon?" he said lightly, his voice grating with disuse. He would have to work on that, as well. "And I was just getting comfortable."

"Enough, Melkor," Oromë said brusquely. "Come. Manwë awaits us."

To his everlasting shame, they had to help him from his seat, Oromë and Tulkas holding him up. He hated them even more for that, but kept his inner thoughts tightly closed. He allowed them to support him even when he knew he could walk on his own. Let the fools think him weaker than he was. Eventually, though, the two Valar apparently decided they had helped him enough and by the time they reached the front gates of Mandos he was walking unaided between them with Námo bringing up the rear, carrying Angainor.

He blinked a number of times at the Light that assailed him but otherwise gave no indication of the pain it caused him, or the lust that rose within him for its destruction. They walked northward across the meadows and plains of Aman, crossing a paved road that had not existed when he had come this way before on the way to Mandos and wondered at its need. Then the city of the Valar rose before them and he saw the Ezellohar and beyond that the Máhanaxar. He kept his expression impassive as Oromë and Tulkas led him between the thrones of Irmo on his right and Námo on his left, bringing him to the center of the Ring of Doom to face Manwë. Oromë and Tulkas bowed to the Elder King before taking their thrones. Námo was already seated.

Melkor took a moment to survey his surroundings. The Valar sat upon their thrones in grave majesty, their chief Maiar standing beside them. That, of course, he expected to see. What he did not expect to see were other beings, like yet unlike unto the Ainur in appearance. They stood between the thrones of Aulë, Varda, Manwë and Ulmo, arrayed in cloths of gold and silver and on their brows were bright gems. The light of the stars and the Two Trees glittered in their eyes as they beheld him, staring at him in wonder and in horror and he suddenly realized who they were: the Children, the Firstborn of Eru. He hated them almost as much as he hated his fellow Valar, but that hatred he kept well hidden within him. Turning his attention to Manwë, who sat there impassively, he gave his brother a bow, making sure it was not mocking. He couldn’t afford to mock at this juncture.

"Well, Melkor," the Elder King said, "I would hear thy plea."

Hiding a grimace and knowing he had no other choice if he wished to remain free, he knelt before his brother, evincing regret. "I crave thy forgiveness, my brother, for the evils I have done. The long years of my confinement have given me time to reflect on my misdeeds. If thou wouldst grant me pardon and make me only the least of the free people of Aman, I will aid thee in all thy works, even to healing the many hurts which I have done to Arda, yea, to Eä itself."

There was silence for a time. Melkor knelt there, keeping his eyes to the ground, waiting. He hid a smile when Nienna spoke. "I would add my prayers to his, Manwë, and beg that Melkor be allowed to do as he hath promised in bringing healing unto Arda."

"Do ye all agree?" Manwë asked the other Valar.

"I trust him not," Tulkas said with a growl, "for all that his words are sweet sounding."

"Nor do I," Ulmo said, "but if thou, Manwë, would release our brother, I will abide by thy decision."

Melkor glanced up at Manwë, sitting there in deep contemplation. His brother was so guileless and his thoughts so open to him that it was almost laughable. He noticed the Maia standing beside the Elder King’s throne. Eönwë, if memory served. There was a look on the Maia’s face that he could not interpret and it made him wonder. He turned his eyes back to Manwë.

"I promise thee, O Elder King of Arda, that I will do all in my power to help in the healing of Eä, and especially of Arda, the jewel in the crown of... of Eru’s creation." He had nearly stumbled over speaking of the One, refusing to name him ‘Atar’ as the other Ainur did. He did not think any noticed his slight hesitation, though Eönwë twitched slightly before stilling himself. Melkor dismissed him as unimportant, his attention fully fixed on Manwë.

"Then I will hold thee to thine oath, my brother, and I release thee and grant thee pardon," Manwë said and a sigh that was nowhere and everywhere floated on the breeze.

Melkor allowed himself to smile, rising and giving his fool of a brother another bow. "I thank thee, my brother, and...."

"With one proviso," Manwë interjected coldly and Melkor steeled himself. "We are not so naive as thou dost think, Melkor," the Elder King said. "Thou shalt be free of Mandos, but not free to wander as thou wouldst. Within the sight and vigilance of thy brethren thou shalt remain. In Valmar thou hast free movement to go as thou wilt, but no further, and thou shalt remain incarnate. Perhaps, in time, if thou dost prove thy parole, thou wilt be granted greater freedom, but for now thou shalt abide within the gates of our city."

Melkor resisted a grimace. Well, it was better than being thrown back into the darkness of Mandos and he could wait. In time, Manwë would allow him more freedom, but first he would have to convince him that he had earned it. He gave his brother a nod. "I will accede to thy command, my brother. But where shall I dwell? What fair habitation wilt thou grant me within thy city? Must I spend my days wandering from one end to the other without a place to call mine own?"

There was a pause, as if Manwë was not sure how to answer his question, but then, from behind, he heard Námo speak and he forced himself neither to flinch nor to grit his teeth. "Thou mayest dwell with me, Melkor. A small cottage hath been constructed for thine use in one of my gardens. It overlooks the Máhanaxar." There was a smile in that last statement, though when Melkor turned to face his nemesis, Námo’s expression was as impassive as stone. He glanced at Vairë sitting on her husband’s left. Her expression was equally impassive though he thought he detected a hint of disgust as he looked upon her.

Well, as onerous as it would be, he really had no choice if he would remain free even in so limited a manner. He gave Námo a bow. "I thank thee, brother, for thy solicitude."

For a moment Námo simply stared at him and Melkor schooled himself not to fidget. He sensed that in the ages since his imprisonment, this particular Vala had grown in stature and in power and it was best to step carefully around him; their history required nothing less. Then Námo gave a small, yet telling, shrug. "It is the least I can do," he replied.

"Then it is settled," Manwë said. "Thou, Melkor, wilt dwell on the estate of our brother, Námo, until such time as we decide otherwise."

And that seemed to be the end of it, for Manwë rose and spoke to the Firstborn who had stood silently by as witnesses to the drama. "I thank ye, My Children, for your attendance. Go now in peace."

Melkor watched them give Manwë their obeisance and then they departed, maintaining silence as they left. When the Valar were alone, Manwë nodded at Námo. "He’s all yours, Námo." With that, he and all the other Valar, along with their Maiar, faded from view, except for Námo and his chief Maia who held Angainor in his hands. Almost at once two other Maiar in the black surcoats of Námo’s service appeared on either side of Melkor, giving their lord their obeisance.

"Aicatirno, Hurinórenámo, escort our guest to his new home," Námo said. They bowed once again and then Melkor was being led away.

"Oh, and Melkor." He stopped and turned to face the Lord of Mandos who nodded towards his chief Maia and the hated chains in his hands. "I am keeping this... just in case." The implication was not lost on him but he refused to respond. He gave Námo stare for stare, but in the end, it was he who had to turn away, and that rankled more than anything.

He allowed himself to be taken from the Ring and shortly thereafter he found himself passing through the gates of Námo’s demesne and into a small garden that did indeed overlook the Máhanaxar. There was a one room cottage in the midst of it, simply furnished with a cot, a table and some chairs. The Maiar left him there. Sitting on the cot, he contemplated the events just past. He was sure he had at least fooled Manwë with his false promises. He was not sure of the others, but knew that if he gave them some show of repentance and remorse, eventually they would be lulled into believing his good intentions. And then there were the Children....

He smiled at that thought.

Yes, there were definite possibilities awaiting him. He would have his revenge on all of them; it was just a matter of time....

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Lehta Mandostello: ‘Released from Mandos’.

Fëa: Spirit, soul.

Fana: The ‘raiment’ in which the Valar and Maiar self-incarnated. The plural is fanar.

Ezellohar: The Green Mound of the Trees. Adopted and adapted from Valarin.

Máhanaxar: The Ring of Doom. Adopted and adapted from Valarin.

Aicatirno: ‘Fell Watcher’.

Hurinórenámo: ‘Hidden Heart of the Judge’.