It was after the Two Trees waned, when Melkor and Ungoliant came to Formenos. The Noldor all fled, but their King Finwë remained within the stronghold, and made a stand against the King of Evil. The Dark Lord laughed evilly, before proceeding towards the iron chamber that held the Silmarils. Ungoliant proceeded to creep into the stronghold after him.
But unbeknownst to all, one Elf remained just outside Formenos. This was a young lord of the Noldor known as Daurin. He was fifty-two years of age now, and was drunk from the wines of the Valar. He had just woken up from his sleep, which he had taken on the way from the feast in Valimar, intent on paying Finwë a visit. And he had chosen to take a nap, coincidentally just before Melkor left to meet Ungoliant, he knew nothing about the disaster that was now occurring, nor its true causes. He did not see Melkor, but he turned to face the stronghold just in time to behold the monstrous abomination that was Ungoliant, entering the gate.
"What is that horrible thing?" exclaimed the dizzy, confused Noldo, his voice echoing across the darkening fields. "And what is happening to the light? It is dying! Did that creature extinguish it? Ai! Ai! It will pay for this! Fëanor! Finwë, I am here! Noldor! The Noldor! I am coming to your aid, my kinsmen!"
He sprinted towards the ruined fortress recklessly. Shouting and cursing after the spider-like creature, he drew a shining sword from its jeweled scabbard, which hung loosely from his waist. The sword had a long, beautiful blade, pale and unstained. It glowed green for the gems that decorated the swords hilt. It was soaked with the very nectar that made drunk its wielder.
Ungoliant heard the inconsistent ramblings of the Elf, and turned too late to face her adversary. She gasped hoarsely as the Elf flailed his sword wildly and hewed at her leg. Ungoliant cried out in pain, and shuddered violently. Her limbs twitched sporadically. The leg behind the bleeding limb involuntarily kicked diagonally, and knocked Daurin off his feet. Ungoliant reared herself, and turned her massive body to face her assailant. She glared furiously with many red eyes down at the Elf that lay just before her. She cast a thong of her black webs upon the downed attacker, and held him up like a marionette with her claws.
Daurin was visibly drunk, and in pain. Ungoliant sighed in annoyance of this pathetic wretch, and groaned at how this attack was possibly not a product of the Elf's own free will.
"Stupid child." the Spider of Night hissed, before throwing the Elf fourteen feet aside with a raspy growl. "The fool. How dare he attack me? May my Unlight bind his soul. If I am too late to claim my reward, he and Melkor will both pay in every sense."
Daurin lay in the wilted grass unconscious and wounded. The sword he wielded was stained with the vile black gore of the Gloomweaver; It was made an instrument of evil, even as it had been used for good, for the Elven blade was made poisonous to all whose life was light.
Ungoliant charged into Formenos and into the iron chamber. Melkor was disgusted by her presence, wishing the fool outside had delayed the filth longer. Ungoliant began eating the contents of the chamber that Melkor had not already collected for himself. Luckily for Melkor, his unwanted companion did not see the casket that bore the Silmarils.
After Melkor and Ungoliant had fled, and the cloud of Unlight cleared away from Valinor, The Noldor found their king dead, but Daurin was not found until after the first Kinslaying. Daurin rested in Valimar, recovering from the terrible assault from before. His sword was left outside Formenos, for none dared to touch the tainted weapon. When Daurin finished recovering, he journeyed back to Formenos, to discover that it was still in ruins. He remembered now what had happened to him. He had thought before that his attack on Ungoliant was a hallucination on behalf of his intoxication. What a fool he was to think that.
He found his sword once more. Its gem glowed no longer. Its blade was dark and stained. He hesitated to pick it up, but immediately found his fingers gripping the handle of the poisoned weapon. It did not harm him, to his surprise. He sheathed it in his scabbard, and walked trancelike back down the path to Valimar, deep in thought.