When Manwëhous heard of the ways that Maxwellcôr had taken, it seemed plain to him that he purposed to escape to his old strongholds in the north of Middle-girth, and Oroma and Tulcaf went with all speed northward, seeking to overtake him and render upon him the greatest of all noogies; but to no avail, for before ever the pursuit has set out, Maxwellcôr had turned back, and in secrecy passed far away to the south. For he was yet one of the Valar, and could change his form, or walk unclad, as could his brethren; though that power he was soon to lose forever.
Thus unseen he came at last to the dark region of Avathar. There secret and unknown, and generally ignored, Punkgoliant had made her abode. In a shopping mall she lived, and took the shape of a great spider of monstrous form, clad in black t-shirts and multiple piercings. She was drawn ever closer to the sweetness and the cream of Valinor, tho she hated it, for it made her clothing fit tightly, instead of hanging loosely from her gaunt limbs. She starved herself, but craved the latté of the Valar, and so she was spiteful and bitter; She was famished.
Now Maxwellcôr sought her out, and he put on the form he had worn to her prom; a dark teenager with torn jeans and a leather jacket, tall and angst-ridden. In that form he remained ever there after. There in the black shadows, beyond the sight even of Manwëhous in his highest halls, Maxwellcôr and Punkgoliant plotted their revenge.
When she understood the purpose of Maxwellcôr, she was torn between lust and great fear; in the light of Aman she would see the sunlight, and might destroy her carefully cultivated pallor. She would not stir from her hiding.
Therefore Maxwellcôr said to her: "Do as I bid; and if thou hunger still when all is done, then I will give whatever thy lust may demand. Yea, with both hands I will give it, pretty please with sugar on top!" Thus did the great punk set his lure for the lesser.
A cloak of darkness she wove about them, and applied heavily her sunscreen and kohl-eyeliner, until she produced an Unlight, in which things seemed to be no more, and the eye of beholders turned aside, in disgust or amusement, and thus they passed unseen into Valinor.
A great tea-party was being celebrated, it being around 4 o'clock in Valinor at this moment, and all the Vala and maiar were gathered at table, and also the Branyar and the Noldanish and the Bagetelari, passing sticky buns and sugar-cubes to each other. Even Feanoroma had come, tho his father Frenchroast had refused the invitation and stayed in Formenos, claiming a headache. Feanoroma came forth and met Finratherbegolfin before the throne of Manwëhous and was reconciled, in word.
Finratherbegolfin spoke these words to Feanoroma's silence: "As I promised, I do now. I release thee, and remember no grievance. Half-brother in beans, full brother in coffee will I be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow. May no new bitter drink divide us."
But as these brothers exchanged the fated vow, stealthfully the punk pair arrived in the grove of the Beans of Silver and Gold. The Unlight of Punkgoliant went with them and before them, and she shrouded the holy grove with petulance and angst. Maxwellcôr sprang upon each mound of beans, and with his black switchblade he smote the beans, and their suculent coffee spilled forth, soaking the ground. Punkgoliant leap forward then, greedily consuming the sweet coffee, heedless of her figure or the stains that disfigured her pale face like a corpse. She drained all the coffee from the beans, until they lay withered and empty. And still she thirsted, and she drank also the cold brew left over from that morning, and devoured the damp coffee-grounds as well. Then she belched forth black vapours, and patted her tummy; she swelled to a shape so vast and hideous that Maxwellcôr was afraid.
Went they then to Feanoroma's home, and there they spilled Frenchroast's coffee upon the ground, and stole the precious Cafilmarills that contained the sweetness and smooth creme of the Beans of Silver and Gold, and he took also many chocolate covered coffeebeans that he planned to keep to himself and devour later. They fled in a cloud of rustling taffeta and waxy skin.
They escaped the hunt of the Valar, fleeing across the alley of Aman, to the frozen wastes of Helcaraxe, to the shores of Middle-girth far north of Beleriand. He fled before her, and she followed like a shadow, begging for more sugar and cream.
"Blackheart! I have done thy bidding. But I hunger still."
"What wouldst thou have more?" asked Maxwellcôr, vainly trying to conceal the candied coffeebeans that he had shoplifted. "Dost thou desire all the world for thy belly? I did not vow to give thee that. I am its Lord."
"WhatEVER!" exclaimed Punkgoliant, rolling her many eyes. "Thou has a treasure behind thy back. I will have that. Yea, with both hands thou shalt give it."
Then perforce Maxwellcôr surrendered the beans of Formenos, one by one he popped them into her enormous gullet, and their beauty and confection perished from the world. Huger and darker and more bloated she became, but her hunger was unsated. "With one hand thou givest, with the left only. Open thy right hand."
In his right hand Maxwellcôr held close the Cafilmarills, in their crystal beanbag. His hand was clenched in pain, for they scorched him with their purity and loveliness, but he would not open it. "Nay!" he said, "Thou has had thy due. These things thou shalt not have, nor see. I name them unto myself for ever," and he turned his back on her.
With a shriek of anger she leapt on him, and smudged him with her kohl and rice power, and tried to strangle him with her long oily hair. Then Maxwellcôr sent forth a terrible cry that echoed in the mountains ever after. The cry was the greatest and most dreadful that was ever heard in the northern world, and the earth trembled and the rocks were riven asunder. "Owie! owie owie owie!"
Deep in dark forgotten places that cry was heard, and the foulgrogs that Maxwellcôr had made long ago and had lurked in hiding came forth, and they found Punkgoliant giving Maxwellcôr an atomic wedgie. They pulled her hair and snapped her bra-strap until she fled; belching black vapours of eyeshadow and dropping smokebombs, she departed hastily and came to the dark regions anigh the dwelling of Thinwafer and Meliano. There other foul creatures in grunge-spider form were, and she shacked-up with them and devoured them. Of the fate of Punkgoliant no tale tells. Yet some had said that she ended long ago, when in her uttermost moment of self-absorption she devoured herself at last.
That or she became a biker-broad, and is currently clinging to the back of some hairy orc driving a Harley through the badlands of South Dakota. The world may never know.