These next two chapters both relate to the Lamps, but according to different accounts. The first is from the Book of Lost Tales I, The Coming of the Valar (yes more of Tolkien's early writings, sorry not sorry :) there is too much there not to have fun with!) and the second will be more Silmarillion-based.
"That one of the North he named Ringil and of the South Helkar…"
-The Book of Lost Tales I, The Coming of the Valar
Eönwë stood guard at the gates of Almaren, in between the secluded isle and a world slumbering in darkness. Occasionally a bright flash of flame or a spark of red lava glowed in the smoking charcoal skies.
The Maia squinted into the shadowy distance as a large shape drew near. He made out a gleaming iron crown, pitch-black robes, a pale white face – Melkor. The Vala rode a hairy, eight-legged creature with multiple sets of beady eyes and sharp, clicking fangs. A crowd of Maiar studied the dark Vala and his abomination with intense interest, but the herald only felt repulsed.
Melkor halted just before him, peering down with a smile that seemed more gloating than friendly.
Eönwë greeted the Vala reluctantly. "Lord Melkor." He stared back at the twelve reflections of himself in the eyes of the beast."What is that?"
"She is Ungoliant, the most beautiful creature in all of Arda," the Vala answered.
"Only you could come up with a creation so hideous…" he muttered between his teeth. Then, louder so Melkor could hear, he asked, "What is the reason you have come? There is no meeting planned – not that you have ever attended."
"Just paying a visit to dear friends," he said charmingly, giving no heed to Eönwë and entering the city with his foul steed. The sound of its eight talons tapping on the polished street made the herald's hairs stand on end.
Melkor's eyes greedily took in the sights of their dwelling places, lingering on the gilded stone buildings, absorbing the luxurious gardens and courtyards. "Where is my brother, Manwë?"
Eönwë made sure to stay at his side. "He is occupied with an important matter, I'm afraid."
"An important matter, hmm? Perhaps I can assist."
"I can't imagine that being necessary."
"We must not make such hasty assumptions, Eönwë, especially someone in your position," Melkor chided the herald. "Let us first ask Manwë if he has want of my aid."
Eönwë bit his tongue to withhold any argument. He begrudgingly sent an inquiry to Manwë, and he and Melkor waited in the pleasant courtyard of Manwë's house for a response, listening to the birdsong and looking anywhere but at each other. When eye contact became unavoidable, Melkor smiled politely at the herald. Eönwë almost wished the Vala would cease such falsity and be hostile instead.
Of course, Manwë agreed with the request, all too eager to include Melkor in the plans of the Valar rather than exclude him. Eönwë did not try to stifle his sigh of disappointment when the message landed in his hands.
"You may assist," he grumbled.
"Excellent. Where can I stow my spider for the time being?" Melkor asked Eönwë, not passing up the opportunity to let his gaze sweep across the fair isle once more.
The herald grimaced. "At the stables, I suppose."
Eönwë led the way to Aulë's workshops. Melkor lingered some distance behind him on foot, standing tall with his arms folded neatly at his back, appearing much nobler than the Maia knew him to be. They followed the smoke issuing from open forges to a partial outdoor court, where they found Aulë laboring away at his workbench. Tongs of all sizes and shapes decorated the industrial-style walls, and the hammers of his Maiar hung on a steel rack stretching the entire perimeter.
"Well met, Aulë," the herald greeted.
"Eönwë! Well met!" The smith's deep voice bellowed from the dim interior of the workshop. He paused his fervent hammering when he noticed Melkor trailing after the herald, and the smile faded from his bearded face. "Oh, Melkor. What can I do for you?"
Eönwë offered an apologetic gesture. He kept a watchful eye on the dark Vala as the latter wandered the forges, poking and prodding everything he stumbled upon. "Lord Manwë requests that we might allot a part of the work to Lord Melkor."
Aulë hesitated. He set his hammer off to the side and brushed a sweaty hand through his red hair, staring at the tempered metal sheet with his eyebrows furrowed. The master smith was soon joined by a Maia in a blacksmith's apron come from the posterior yard to assist him.
"Mairon," the smith called to his apprentice. "Melkor has offered us his aid in building the lamps."
The Maiarin craftsman glanced briefly at Melkor before turning again to Aulë. "Ah… well, I don't think there is much he can help with," he said quietly, but not quietly enough.
Melkor frowned, curling one side of his mouth in a scowl.
Aulë snapped his fingers as an idea occurred to the master craftsman. "Melkor, are you not skilled in fire and ice? We may be able to use your abilities, after all. You can keep our furnaces hot while we forge the necessary materials, and then cool the items to a strong hardness. It would save us much effort in the long run."
The Vala raised his eyebrows at the demeaning suggestion. "I think I can do a little more than that, Aulë," he replied, and Mairon looked at him curiously.
He paced along the row of furnaces, subtly planning alone in his thoughts with only the semblance of contributing. "I can supply the perfect material with which to create the Lamps. You see, I am in possession of a very durable substance."
"Really? What substance is this?" Aulë wondered.
"It is not known to you, Aulë. No offense. It is of my own thought and making."
The smith crossed his arms as he considered, the biceps bulging against his fine linen tunic. "Fair enough. Can I at least get a glimpse of this rare substance?"
"Again… no. I must procure it from my lands in the north. That will take some time, and I don't want to hold up your efforts here…"
Aule regarded him with no small amount of distrust in his eyes. "Very well, Melkor. Procure the substance and supply us with enough to build two lamps to light Arda. And," he added with a stern glare, "no trickery of any kind!"
"When have I ever let you down, Aulë?" the Vala inquired innocently.
"I don't want to have to answer that," he said once Melkor left the forges and he was alone with his Maiar.
The herald of the Valar accompanied Melkor to the stables to retrieve Ungoliant, and he felt a wave of relief when the Vala departed Almaren for the shadows of the untamed lands. Not least was his gladness at the disappearance of the spider. He still saw its eyes leering at him with some strange lust, and his body tingled like its hairy legs crawled upon him.
"Are you quite all right, Lord Eönwë?" asked a stable hand raking out the stalls. "You're shaking."
"Yes, I'm quite all right," he asserted, hurrying up the steps to the courtyard, but he kept on trembling regardless.
A sleek black raven awaited Melkor with mail when he returned to the gates of Utumno. He unrolled the parchment between its talons and read the letter, allowing a pleased smile to leer over his face. The bird dipped its feathery head in a bow before taking off, the Vala overseeing its flight back to Almaren.
He entered the dark stronghold, still in an early phase of construction. The Vala's thundering footsteps bounced off the lofty ceiling and echoed far off in deep subterranean vaults. Gothmog, captain of the hosts, presided in the dismal cavern at the front, seated on an imposing chair carved with monstrous faces in bas-relief.
"Your lord is a cunning genius," he told the Balrog as soon as he came in.
Intrigued, Gothmog pursued his master further into the mountain passages. "What have you done?"
Melkor's voice seeped into the foundations of the fortress and filled the vacant spaces at its highest reaches, so although Gothmog could not see the Vala in the encompassing darkness, he could hear him whichever way he turned. "The Valar plan to construct two lamps upon my land to dispel the darkness. I offered them my aid in the pointless endeavor, and in their blind arrogance they agreed. I tricked Aulë into believing I possessed a substance stronger than any yet known, when really I intend to use ice! The lamps shall melt the moment they are lit, flooding the perfect little isle and all its inhabitants, providing us the opportunity to launch an attack."
Gothmog's smile grew as he listened to the insidious plot. "A genius plan, my lord."
"As I just said. They are all too easy to fool."
"What happens if the Valar grow suspicious?"
"That will not come to pass," he assured the captain. "My spies among the Maiar will ensure Manwë remains oblivious." Melkor pulled open the doors at the rear of the fortress, letting in stinging flurries of snow. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must retrieve enough tons of ice to build two lamps. Prepare our armies, Gothmog. It won't be long now."
Northern Arda was certainly not lacking in the resource. The Vala climbed the mountains of Dor Daidelos and hewed off great sheets of ice from the glaciers, carrying the weight on both shoulders down to his smiths in their cold underground forges. They clad the ice in a compelling disguise, making it appear metallic on the surface to conceal the true nature of the substance.
He attached the ice blocks to Ungoliant's bulbous girth. Then he rode back to Almaren with the giant spider dragging the load behind her in the snow like a gruesome sled. The Vala could hardly contain the malicious glee bubbling inside his black heart.
Ungoliant he commanded to wait outside and meet him back at the fortress, but he trusted not the cheeky response she gave him, and he was certain she strayed another path instead, but his concerns lay elsewhere for now. Besides, he already knew her to be unfaithful - he had seen the way she ogled Eönwë.
The second he arrived at Aulë's workshops, he was surrounded by a great number of his Maiar and promptly enclosed in a tight circle. Before Melkor even had a chance to react, the craftsmen blocked off his escape, standing shoulder to shoulder with their backs to him.
"We have orders to guard you until Aulë can assess the contents of your delivery," they explained.
Melkor panicked, thinking himself caught. "I've done nothing wrong," he insisted. "If you keep me confined here like a prisoner any longer, I am complaining to Manwë."
"What's making him care?" one of the Maiar snapped.
The Vala glowered sourly in his direction until the arrival of Aulë with his workmen. The head smith approached the chunks of ice and tested the substance, measured the height and weight, tapped on the surface to determine whether it was solid enough to support the Lamps.
"It is rather cold," Aulë noted.
Melkor smiled good-naturedly. "Does that surprise you? I'm sure you'll recall I specialize in heat and cold, my good smith."
Aulë appeared unsure, but he cast his doubts aside. "Very well." He gave the OK to his builders and two teams came forth to take hold of each end of the "metal" pillars, carrying them from the workshops to their intended locations at the northern and southernmost plains of Arda.
Melkor oversaw the journey with eager anticipation, but he altered his expression whenever Aulë shifted his attention to the other Vala. The latter's smirk then vanished, and he instantly became serious and more composed.
"It is pleasing to me that I can finally assist the Valar," he told the smith, as the two crossed the enormous silver bridge connecting Almaren to the greater lands. The Maiarin workmen walked on ahead, and the many feet created a loud clamor on the stone walkway. "I know we have our differences… At least now in our mutual love for Arda we can put them behind us."
Aulë harrumphed. "We'll see."
"I've actually been meaning to congratulate you, Aulë."
"On what?" he asked impatiently.
"Well…" The Vala's dark eyes darted around secretively, and he lowered his voice. "Everyone has been talking a great deal about the children you created in your image. A very bold move, I might say. I sure hope Eru wasn't offended…"
Aulë's face turned a shade of crimson, but he brushed off the provocative comment. "Right now is not the time, Melkor."
"As you wish."
The northern Lamp was first on the Valar's agenda. Already a mound had been raised in the vast plain beneath Utumno to accommodate it, and Melkor felt anger at such an insult, despite his plan for vengeance.
"You may do the honors," Aulë told Mairon, motioning to the metal bases they had forged specifically for the Lamps. The Maia untied one from the cart and lifted the heavy slab in his arms without the need for assistance. He started to carry it towards the mound until he discovered Melkor standing in his way, for the Vala was unsure where he was supposed to be.
"Pardon me," he said to the Vala, who mumbled an apology and moved aside. Mairon knelt to set the Lamp's base, carefully holding the metal rim until it ceased wobbling and rested firmly in the soil. His task successful, he backed away to rejoin the group, and his fellow crafters pat his shoulder to commend him.
The rest of the Maiar then heaved the icy tower into position on top of the base, and once it was sturdy and made straight, Aulë placed a glittering silver lamp in the curved receptacle at its utmost point.
Upon completion, the first team remained behind with the northern Lamp, while Melkor, Aulë, and the second team retraced their journey, continuing south across another bridge outlaid in gold. There on a lower plain the process repeated, with the base set upon the mound and the tower upon the base, but this time Aulë lay a golden lamp atop the pinnacle instead of silver.
Melkor sat in the dark grass and idly plucked the blades while he waited for Aulë and his Maiar to stop oohing and aweing over the finished result. Although he could not deny that his towers of ice were impressive and expertly fashioned by Utumno's own craftsmen, the most stunning part of all was still to come.
Aulë finally walked away from the tower to hover over the Vala, slouched so he remained eye-level with the smith's metal greaves.
"I'll grant you this privilege, Melkor," Aulë told him. "You may name the Lamps, since you have so generously helped in their creation."
The suggestion caught Melkor off guard. "Alright… um… Helkar for the southern light, since it is cold, and Ringil for the northern, since it is also cold."
There was laughter in Aulë's eyes. "Very creative."
"Clearly, it is not often I get to name things!" Melkor shot back, scowling.
"Clearly," Aulë chuckled.
Ringil and Helkar, he thought proudly. Helkar and Ringil. It was too bad they were about to be destroyed. He liked having the power to name things, to think of them as his…
He felt a strange sensation. Looking to his left, he realized Aulë was…smiling at him. Fondly. Not falsely. Melkor averted his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Melkor announced loud and impatiently, casting a mischievous smile at his Maiar within the crowd of workmen. "Light the Lamps!"