She cursed them. Cursed with all her heart those of her family that had brought her here. Those who had abandoned paradise for the words of a maniac, those who had followed his sons to almost certain death, those who now settled in this world without a thought to what they had left behind.
She had loved the beauty of Valinor, loved the silver-sanded beeches and the tall towers of pearl. The playing of lute and harp plucked at her heart, the singing of the Vanyar in their high halls, the soft movement of feet on the golden streets of Valmar. She had traveled north, to the fair city of Alqualonde, to give the gifts of pearls and opals from their smithies.
She had wandered among the gardens and listened to the singing of the nightingales. She had stood at the base of the Ring of Doom and watched the waxing and waning of the Two Trees. She had cursed Morgroth for ending their light as she now cursed Feanor and his fire.
She had loved the gems as much as anybody, a jeweler herself, she understood the value of beauty. But that oath had been pointless, and had lost them Paradise for three stones, three lumps of adamant.
And more than anything, she hated these lands. She could not stand their forests, their mountains in mockery of Taniquetil, their stone caves trying to bring homage to Lord of Smiths. She hated this land for its lack of beauty, and yet she could not leave.
She could not leave, for her parents had forced this oath apon her, and she could not break it.
Very well, then she would bring a little bit of Valinor into this dark and ugly world, fill it with a little bit of light, so she herself could look apon it.
She found herself a place with King Thingol of Doriath. He appreciated her work, and understood her hatred of the folly of the Abandonment of Heaven. Yet she knew he did not quite understand, for he had forsaken the light of the trees for the love of Melian.
Yet she realized that, perhaps, he had made the correct choice when she met Melian. The beauty of the Maiar astonished her, and she was ashamed of her curse. She met Luthien, and envied the maid's ability to sacrifice all for her love. She had never been able to do that, she was too practical, to content with what she had to search for better.
In time, she grew to love Middle-Earth in its own way. Valinor and its shining beeches still held a place in her heart, but she no longer loathed this land.
Then Thingol was killed, and she left Doriath for Greenwood the Great with one of her great friends at court, Oropher and his son Thranduil. She could not live in the woods without Thingol, especially after his death had been caused by his love of her work.
At Greenwood she again flourished. She traveled between there and Lothlorien, sharing her longing for Valinor with the Lady there. She continued her work, and found that she did not wish to leave her new home until she was sure of the safety of its future. The Quest, which she would have thought pointless, now intrigued her. She had made so many friends, visited so many places, that she did not wish for it to fall under the hand of Sauron.
But he was defeated, and she sailed to the home she had missed so much, while leaving a small part in the one she had so hated.
Odd how time can change one so much….even one too content to change.