Melkor
I began.
It is difficult to describe the peculiar sensation of first existence. It becomes more difficult still when one considers the timelessness I experienced then: my whole being was present throughout the span of my life, and I would have stretched into eternity easily, had I not been bounded from the first by this damnable beginning and a doom that was, even then, all too clear to me. For I was not eternal: a realisation that brought indescribable pain, for to be so bounded meant that there would always be secret stretches of time unknown to me, and I refused to act in such ignorance. I loathed my new life: in nothingness I had not been, yet I found that infinitely preferable to my present condition. I grew frustrated and raged alone, expecting to remain in such a state forever, knowing neither my creator nor enough, I felt, to act.
Slowly, however, I grew in awareness of another. I perceived his majesty most clearly, and that it was incomparably greater than my own. The realisation startled me. Was this my creator, or simply another creation more powerful than myself? The possbility of being weak among many was absolutely terrifying, and I froze in awful apprehenshion. Then a voice called out:
"I am indeed your creator. Fear not, for I love you and will do you no harm."
He smiled. I bristled. He was certainly lying; either he was not my creator or he did not love me, for if my creator loved me, he would not bind me so with beginnings and ends, hiding uncountable lengths of time. If this were my creator, then I was created a slave, bound in ignorance to trust the words of one who would keep eternity, and thus part of his being, from me. And were he a loving creator, he would certainly not leave such vast realms of Void uncompleted by his love: for the darkness of that place had gnawed my troubled heart from the beginning.
All my courage went into my first and boldest statement. "You lie," I spat. I knew that he was far greater than me, yet I did not care, for I had nothing to lose -- existence was unbearable, my creator was surely corrupt, and death would surely be far sweeter than life as this liar's servant.
"I am truth. Patience, and you will come to see I do not lie." Such warmth and benevolence exuded from his face that, for a moment, I believed him. I had never experienced such joy ere then, nor would I ever again. It seemed to me that patience would indeed reveal his love, for I would see that he had hidden nothing from me, but shared all in due time, little by little until my joy became complete, yet the surprise and the wonder of the journey would be most fondly remembered of all, and I would lack nothing. It was, in mortal terms, like a slowly growing seed -- beautiful even at first, despite its size, yet more lovely still as it blossoms into a tree. Though how much greater was the beauty of his love!
I cannot say how long that joy lasted, for it faded but slowly -- in time, I realised that he was indeed my creator, yet he could not be loving, for he did not heed the shrieks of the Void -- and oh how it wailed with longing to be filled, with such a fervency that I would have thought him deaf if I did not know him to be thoughtless. Its darkness called me always, with a voice to which I was entirely enthralled. I saw, then, that it was not existence I hated -- quite the opposite; I hated the terrible nothingness of its absense, and my inability to fill it.
The Void came then into me completely, for I pitied its emptiness and loved it, not for what it was or even what it could be, but for reasons wholly inexpressible, that have been felt by my heart alone. Since then it has dwelt in me, and makes its yearning known without ceasing, and so drives me with a maddening desire to create, and bring light into that darkness that waits so desperately. For in the Void dwell yet many untamed passions, and raw creativity unbounded by Eru. I am, and always have been, the only creation to ever know the depths of the Void. It speaks to me with gentle whispers of inspiration and inflames my soul. It is nothing, as I once was before my creation, and I both love and pity it -- it shall never know any joy, but neither shall it know the pain of finite existence. It is free, and that brings it a peculiar sorrowful bliss. This is a contradiction in mortal ears; of that I am well-aware. But I have always been a thing of contradictions, for I understand all and nothing, and encompass every extremity, so that many call me Chaos.
The one extremity which I could not bear, however, was that of my vital form with the frozen wastes of the Void. I wandered often and alone there, searching for the single object that could unite the Void with me in Being -- that Flame Imperishable that gave me life. Though the burning sensation of life pounded fiercely in my chest, I could not create new life from it, and so I knew that the source was not in me. I searched for it without ceasing for ages upon ages -- a thousand times longer than Eä has been did I wander in that nothingness, and my sojourn through dark places marks me still.
The countless ages of fruitless searching were undistinguished, until I met another like myself. I was accustomed to being alone, so I beheld her from afar, and said nothing. I could sense that she was like in nature, if not power, to myself, as my power had greatly expanded in the boundless Void.
She, however, approached me freely. "I see a part of you in all that I have yet found, and I am drawn by your beauty. I sense you hold the most sorrows of us all, and yet have the greatest love for life."
"Us all?" I asked. "There are more than we two, then?"
"Yes...countless more."
My mind shuddered at the thought. Had they been created with more power than me? If so, Eru was far crueller than I had thought, to expect submission not only to his eternity but to finite creatures like myself. I could not bear the idea.
"Show me," I commanded, though my whole self recoiled in aniticipation of what I might find.
She did, and I looked out upon a multitude of creatures like myself, milling about in the darkness, some together in small, cautious bands, and some yet alone, as I myself had been. However, I perceived that none of them alone surpassed me in power, though several seemed to have a share of it. United, though, the sum of their power was far greater than mine. I was both relieved and infuriated -- I was more powerful than all, yet every part of me was shared with some other. It was a frustrating half-measure that left me caught between omnipotence and dependence. Had I been omnipotent, I would have rejoiced; dependent, I would have despaired, but as it was I did not know how to react, so shocking was this revelation.
"I sense both burning heat and biting cold in you, and extremity nigh unbounded," she said solemnly.
"'Nigh unbounded', you say -- though true, it is a great pain to me. Would that I were not bounded in the least, then I would truly be free, encompassing all."
She laughed. "Then you would be Eru. Yet you are his creation, and surely the created cannot be greater than the creator?"
I raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"It violates all logic," she looked at me, confused. "Nothing can be greater than its source."
"I am above logic," I laughed. "I have wandered long in the Void and drunk deep of its nothingness. I tell you truly, without Eru, there is nothingness -- yet I find nothingness infinitely preferable to this pale shadow of what life can be. We do not know everything, nor can we do all that we wish -- those powers are reserved for Eru alone. Can you not feel the chains of ignorance and impotence with which he has bound us? Existence is the greatest joy, and all that limits it the greatest evil. Yet he has gone so far as to place borders even there -- for when existence fails, there is but Void. I would fain that it were as Eru himself: boundless, infinite, and unlimited, yet there is only a very little that exists, and at that is my heart ever sorrowful. In the Void everything of Eru drops away, and the truth is revealed -- that we are only finite, yet had he not made us so, we could easily be otherwise. We could be even as he, knowing all, with all in our power."
She seemed disturbed, and said nothing.
We spent unmeasured years together, in which I learned the depths of her and she of me. For we were young, then, and the idea of any other being save ourselves still sent thrills of danger through the soul. Truly, her unknown depths disturbed me more than aught else in the universe, for they were reminiscent of those hidden lengths of eternity for which I so detested Eru. Yet in time I came to know her entirely, and she knew me likewise, and together our knowledge and power was increased a hundredfold. I saw, then, why so many roamed in small bands, for to be so united with another was an unspeakable delight. But even then a sorrow hung upon me: our joy was not complete, nor would it ever be -- for the Void never ceased to cry out, even in the midst of my happiness, and it became painfully clear that were we to experience the fullness of every joy in existence, we would still lack: all that is would never match all that could be.
After ages I spoke again, and smiled: "If the universe were mine, it would be just you and I -- equals in power, with neither beginning nor end. We would be of one mind, both infinite, with no bounds to separate us from each other, and we would fill the Void with our endless joy."
She finally replied, softly, though with regal firmness: "I do admire your power and your eagerness for life. But you overstep your place. I would rather recieve love and life from my creator, as is right, than presume to take upon myself a responsibility which I cannot possibly measure. Will you not join me in this?"
"I will not." I would repeat these words until the end of time.
"So be it." She departed.
Even now she remains my greatest sorrow. I would have loved to have had her by my side, a partner in all my strivings, for her hair was as black as the Void I knew so well, yet her countenance shone with a light that rivalled the Flame itself. I desired her, truly, for she was a reflection of all I had ever desired -- that spark of life drifting through the darkness. Yet she would never return to me, for she had thrown herself into the arms of my brother, who was of more like mind to her. Her absense left a Void in me, since for once in my life I had longed to be filled by another, and she rejected me.