“Lo, now do we know the reason of our transportation hither as it were cargoes of fair slaves! Now at length are we told to what end we are guarded here, robbed of our heritage in the world, ruling not the wide lands, lest perchance we yield them not to a race unborn. To these foresooth—a sad folk, beset with swift mortality, a race of burrowers in the dark, clumsy of hand, untuned to songs or musics, who shall dully labour at the soil with their rude tools, to these whom still he says are of Ilъvatar would Manwл Sъlimo lordling of the Ainur give the world and all the wonders of its land, all its hidden substances—give it to these, that is our inheritance. Or what is this talk of the dangers of the world? A trick to deceive us; a mask of words! O all ye children of the Noldoli, whomso will no longer be house-thralls of the Gods however softly held, arise I bid ye and get you from Valinor, for now is the hour come and the world awaits.”

In sooth it is a matter for great wonder, the subtle cunning of Melko—for in those wild words who shall say that there lurked not a sting of the minutest truth, nor fail to marvel seeing the very words of Melko pouring from Fлanor his foe, who knew not nor remembered whence was the fountain of these thoughts; yet perchance the [?outmost] origin of these sad things was before Melko himself, and such things must be—and the mystery of the jealousy of Elves and Men is an unsolved riddle, one of the sorrows at the world’s dim roots.

Howso these deep things be, the fierce words of Fлanor got him instantly a mighty following, for a veil there seemed before the hearts of the Gnomes—and mayhap even this was not without the knowledge of Ilъvatar. Yet would Melko have been rejoiced to hear it, seeing his evil giving fruit beyond his hopes. Now however that evil one wanders the dark plains of Eruman, and farther south than anyone had yet penetrated he found a region of the deepest gloom, and it seemed to him a good place wherein for the time to hide his stolen treasure.

Therefore he seeks until he finds a dark cavern in the hills, and webs of darkness lie about so that the black air might be felt heavy and choking about one’s face and hands. Very deep and winding were those ways having a subterranean outlet on the sea as the ancient books say, and here on a time were the Moon and Sun imprisoned afterward;¹⁰ for here dwelt the primeval spirit Mуru whom even the Valar know not whence or when she came, and the folk of Earth have given her many names. Mayhap she was bred of mists and darkness on the confines of the Shadowy Seas, in that utter dark that came between the overthrow of the Lamps and the kindling of the Trees, but more like she has always been; and she it is who loveth still to dwell in that black place taking the guise of an unlovely spider, spinning a clinging gossamer of gloom that catches in its mesh stars and moons and all bright things that sail the airs. Indeed it was because of her labours that so little of that overflowing light of the Two Trees flowed ever into the world, for she sucked light greedily, and it fed her, but she brought forth only that darkness that is a denial of all light. Ungwл Lianti the great spider who enmeshes did the Eldar call her, naming her also Wirilуmл or Gloom-weaver, whence still do the Noldoli speak of her as Ungoliont the spider or as Gwerlum the Black.

Now between Melko and Ungwл Lianti was there friendship from the first, when she found him and his comrades straying in her caves, but Gloomweaver was ahungered of the brightness of that hoard of jewels so soon as she saw them.

Now Melko having despoiled the Noldoli and brought sorrow and confusion into the realm of Valinor through less of that hoard than aforetime, having now conceived a darker and deeper plan of aggrandisement; therefore seeing the lust of Ungwл’s eyes he offers her all that hoard, saving only the three Silmarils, if she will abet him in his new design. This she granteth readily, and so came all that treasury of most lovely gems fairer than any others that the world has seen into the foul keeping of Wirilуmл, and was wound in webs of darkness and hidden deep in the caverns of the eastern slopes of the great hills that are the southern boundary of Eruman.

Deeming that now is the time to strike while Valinor is yet in uproar nor waiting for Aulл and Tulkas to block the passage in the hills, Melko and Wirilуmл crept into Valinor and lay hidden in a valley of the foothills until Silpion was in bloom; but all the while was Gloomweaver spinning her most lightless webs and ill-enchanted shades. These she lets float down so that in place of the fair silver light of Silpion all about the western plain of Valinor there creeps now a dim uncertain darkness and faint lights waver in it. Then does she throw a black cloak of invisibility about Melko and herself and they steal across the plain, and the Gods are in wonder and the Elves in Kфr are1 afraid; nonetheless they do not as yet suspect the hand of Melko in this, thinking rather it is some work of Ossл’s, who at times with his storms caused great mists and darkness to be wafted off the Shadowy Seas, encroaching even the bright airs of Valinor; though in this he met the anger both of Ulmo and of Manwл. Then Manwл sent forth a sweet westerly breath wherewith he was accustomed at such times to blow all sea-humours back eastward over the waters, but such gentle breathing availed nothing against the woven night heavy and clinging that Wirilуmл had spread far abroad. Thus was it that unmarked Melko and the Spider of Night reached the roots of Laurelin, and Melko summoning all his godlike might thrust a sword into its beauteous stock, and the fiery radiance that spouted forth assuredly had consumed him even as it did his sword, had not Gloomweaver cast herself down and lapped it thirstily, plying even her lips to the wound in the tree’s bark and sucking away its life and strength.

By accursed fortune this deed was not straightway marked, for it was the time of Laurelin’s accustomed deepest repose; and now behold, never more would it wake to glory, scattering beauty and joy upon the faces of the Gods. Because of that great draught of light suddenly pride surged in Gwerlum’s heart, and she heeded not Melko’s warnings, but sate herself now nigh to the roots of Silpion and spouted forth evil fumes of night that flowed like rivers of blackness even to the gates of Valmar. Now Melko takes the weapon that remains to him, a knife, and will injure the bole of Silpion as much as time will allow; but a Gnome called Daurin (Tуrin) wandering from Sirnъmen in great boding of ill sees him and makes for him, crying aloud. So great was the onrush of that impetuous Gnome that ere Melko is aware he has hewn at Wirilуmл where in the likeness of a spider she sprawls upon the ground. Now the slender blade that Daurin wielded came from the forge of Aulл and was steeped in miruvor, or never had he done harm to that secret [?being], but now he cleaves one of her great legs, and his blade is stained with her black gore, a poison to all [?things] whose life is light. Then Wirilуmл writhing throws a thread about him and he may not get free, and Melko ruthless stabs him. Then wresting that bright slender blade from his dying grasp he thrusts it deep into Silpion’s trunk, and the poison of Gwerlum black upon it dried the very sap and essence of the tree, and its light died suddenly to a dismal glow lost in impenetrable dusk.

Then did Melko and Wirilуmл turn in flight, nor is it too soon, for some that were behind Daurin seeing his fate fled in terror both to Kфr and Valmar, stumbling madly in the darkness, but indeed already the Valar are riding forth upon the plain speeding as fast as may be yet too late to defend the Trees which they now know to be in danger.

Now do those Noldoli confirm their fears, saying how Melko is indeed the author of the mischief, and they have but one desire and that is to lay hands upon him and his accomplices ere they can escape beyond the mountains.