After several years at Tulkas's house, everyone, including Ulmo and Tulkas, realized Melkor truly meant no harm. He was permitted to wander about and explore as pleased him. Melkor didn't understand why, but being in the open scared him. He preferred to make himself the size of a mountain and settle into a mountain range.
From them, he liked to watch the elves go about their days. He found them fascinating and adorable as they made things, traded, or played. Melkor sighed happily as he settled into a valley. He made a fire in his hand as he smiled. He loved fire, it could be used to make things in Aulë's forge and he could make patterns with it.
All at once, Melkor felt a tapping on his collar bone and looked down in surprise. A short, impatient-looking elf with dark hair and fiery eyes was standing there. Melkor stared at him in shock, never had he been this close to an elf before! But… it didn't look very happy. "Are you going to tell me about the fire?" The elf demanded with a sharp glare.
"Who-who are you?" Melkor asked in a soft voice, not wanting to hurt the elf's sensitive ears. "I'm crown Prince Fëanor, hotter than the Flame Imperishable." Melkor felt anger and frustration in the back of his mind at the mention of Eru's fire but wasn't sure why. "Tell me how to make fire," Fëanor demanded again. "I want to learn."
Melkor grew excited, he'd never taught anyone before! He'd never even had Maiar like his siblings. And now this elf wanted to be taught by him! He happily scooped the elf into his hand-
Suddenly the elf screamed! Melkor was startled and dropped the elf into his lap. Cautiously, he gently prodded the elf's burned, unmoving body. "Estë!" He cried in terror. He hadn't meant to hurt the elf.
The healer appeared instantly. "What happened?!" She demanded anxiously. "I didn't mean to hurt him!" Melkor whimpered as he showed her the body. "He-he wanted to know about the fire I made. So I picked him up-"
"With your hand still on fire?" Estë asked as she looked over the body. "Y-yes!" Melkor hiccuped as tears streamed down his face. "And then he screamed and I called for you."
"Oh, Melkor," Estë said sadly. "He's dead! I can't fix this." Melkor began sobbing and whimpering that he hadn't meant to hurt the elf, it was an accident, and he had just been so excited. Estë tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, he'll be ok. He just has to heal for a bit on Námo's halls and then he'll be back."
"I didn't mean to hurt him," Melkor whimpered. "It was an accident." "I know," Estë said gently. "I'll tell Manwë what happened. Then I'll explain how fragile the Children are."
"Promise?" Melkor sniffled pitifully. "I never want to hurt another elf… or anything else ever again." "I promise." Estë said with a gentle smile.
After all, Melkor had been terrible so far, and now he was just the opposite. Now they only needed to find a way to keep him this happy without giving him Arda. Everything would be just fine. Melkor was good now, and his siblings would make sure he always would be.