Melkor was always charming.

Dark. But charming.

But it was more than that that drove me towards him.

It was his flame.

Deep inside, he held the flame of creation.

Just like the Ilúvatar.

I am a blacksmith.

I know how to nurture flame.

I know my brothers curse my name.

Old and new.

Marion the Admirable and Sauron the Cruel.

I know the the whole of Arda despises me.

It….. depresses me.

It angers me.

How is it that they cannot see?

How can their minds be so simple, their perceptions so limited?

How can they not know?

The light cannot exist without the darkness.

My world is beautiful.

It is beautiful and fiery and dark.

It is just like my love.

Precious gold and fiery magma flowing freely across the land.

Lighting it up like a hidden jewel.

I must show them.

I must show them this beauty.

After all.

The half must always reflect the whole.

Watching Númenor burn is the most amazing thing I've ever seen.

It triumphs even over the first time I saw my love's heavenly form.

Chaos and blood and glorious destruction.

It is a love letter.

A poetic ode to my beloved.

I know he appreciates the gift.

Even in the void.