Eleven: Lúthien's Mirror

In the death of Feänor I had no part, though I fought in Dagor-Nuin-Giliath. No special glory did I win there, but no special shame either, and that is rare in itself, for it was not among the victories of my lord Morgoth.

And Feänor died and was consumed by the firebrand that was his fierce spirit, and Morgoth sent me out to offer terms of peace to his sons. False hopes and fool's gold, of course, and they knew it, and I knew they knew, and yet a meeting was agreed. And Maedhros came with a mighty host, and I came with Balrogs unchained. It was an outright ambush. As the Balrogs wrecked havoc among his elves, I crossed blades with Maedhros.
"I cannot raise my hand against a woman." He stated, staring at me in frank horror.
I laughed, and struck with my blade, throwing the sword from his hand, and I embraced him and carried him to Angband. And Morgoth laughed with me when he heard how easily his new prize was won.

But then, agony of agonies, the Sun rose into the skies. Oh, blazing fruit from the sacred bough of Laurelin, what torment it brought me! My skin blistered at its light, and I withdrew to the shadows. Thankfully it had its times of rise and setting, but still, half of my time I now must hide from Arien's glory. Well I remembered the radiant maiden, once I would have had friendly words with her in Vaná's gardens, now all I had for her were the darkest curses.

Years rolled past like pebbles in a stream. In the lantern-lit evening I joined the celebrations of Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting, and spied on the elves and their plots. I danced in the fair gardens and laughed, and all thought me a maiden of the Noldor. But Galadriel looked on silently, with doubt in the clear pools of her eyes. ¨

Years were swept aside like fallen leaves. Morgot Bauglir desired war, and war he must have. I counselled him against it, but was ignored. Dagor Aglareb the elves call that battle, and glorious it was to them and shameful to us. I did not participate, nor did Sauron. And then those cursed elves dared lay siege to Angband itself. They had no hope of conquest, but we could not break the siege, either. It was a stalemate. Nightly I flew and fed on elven guardsmen who stepped too deep into the shadow of the walls.

Finally Morgoth admitted his orcs alone were no match for the elves, and the dragons were hatched.

And tugged by a secret I sensed, I flew east again, to Hildórien at the rising of the sun, and there I beheld the fathers of men. Crude they seemed to my eyes and poorly shaped, and their women a shadow of elven glory. It disgusted me to take the shape of one such, yet in the eyes of the innocent men I must have been beautiful beyond measure, for many followed me away from the campfires into the arms of night and their death at my kiss. Soon I grew bored of the easy prey and did my duty, reporting my findings to my Lord Morgoth. To my surprise he departed at once to see these new creatures and left Sauron in command. He grew pompous in his new role and insisted I call him lord, which I did to his face, but behind his back I called him Morgoth's Dog. Oh how the Balrogs laughed!

At last, we were ready to be done with sneaking around mountains and broke the siege. Glaurung and the dragons went forth, Balrogs marched, I donned my armor, Sauron rode a werewolf, and orcs beyond count marched behind us all.

We wreaked destruction and havoc wherever we went. Our army chanted Morgoth's name as its battle cry. And finally forth came Fingolfin and challenged the dark lord himself, and was destroyed.

Sauron claimed himself a stronghold, Tol-in Gaurhoth he named it. Would that he had never stepped through those gates! For there begins the story of my embarrassment. Sauron was tempted by a fair face and beaten by a dog, and he left his stronghold. I, at that time, lay in Morgoth's bed, and I had left my wings behind me. Lúthien, the little minx, stole them and used them as a disguise. What does it say of my features that the fairest child of Ilúvatar was mistaken for me by all that saw her?

Oh Morgoth, what fool you could be sometimes! You saw through her and yet you let her sing to you! Did you not think to beware of enchantments in the blood of Melian? I could have warned you, I could have cut her down, I could have saved the Silmaril.

But I lay in your bed, drowsy from having tasted your unholy blood, dreaming of fire and your touch and your eyes that I had not looked in for such a long time.

And for this you berated me when you had woken crownless on the floor like a human king after a night of drinking with elves. Somehow everything was my fault. Especially your stupidity.

In my darkest deepest heart of hearts I felt a small secret joy that there was one Silmaril less on your crown now.