DarkElf at the End of the First Age
So it was decided by the Valar
Sauron Gorthaur should return to the West
There to abide in Mando's halls
For a time undetermined hence
How he bowed and humbled himself before them!
And maybe his contrition was genuine at that time
It came as no surprise to me
Come the light of next day he was gone
Gone to hide in the deep places where Manwë might not see
And perhaps to the Valar's eyes he was insignificant
No more than a masterless cur slinking from the door
I would have walked away from it all then
Still stunned and burned by my self-discoveries
But Nienna called my name again, and I came to her
However unworthy I am, I am not without respect
I stood in her shadow as council was recommenced
A message had come to Eonwë from the last sons of Fëanor
Demanding the delivery of the two remaining Silmarils
Oathdriven, remorseful, desperate to undo their sins
Blind to their own decay
As if the Valar had made war to capture the Jewels
To make a gift for Maedhros and Maglor!
A cask in which Eonwë those holy jewels contained
He set down and opened before our eyes
All the Valar were silent in regard
And I, shy but curious, peered round at them
What were they, these shining spheres
That contained and yet set free a brilliant light?
No less alive than you or I
Like stars resting on the velvet cloth
Nienna's soft voice touches my ears:
"Be careful, Dínfaroth, of the power of these gems.
To look upon them merely will bind an unwary heart."
"I have seen one before, Mistress," I reply
"Adorning Elwing the Everfair.
I have also seen the fire in the eyes of those
Who, in their pride and greed, invited this spell of covetousness.
Beautiful the Silmarils are, and yet
I do not want them!
More beautiful to me are the jewels of my life;
My Lord Glorfindel and my daughter Jacinth.
They are the only treasures that I covet."
"Then you might handle these without harm, darkelf,"
She said, and her smile was sad and yet not so.
"Eonwë will permit, if you wish to do so."
In spite of myself, I am drawn closer
And the eyes of the Valar upon me are joyful and knowing
As if their own pleasure is redoubled by my interest
In truth, they are very beautiful indeed.
My hand outstretched, the light glows through my fingers
But I do not reach to pick them up
By the light of their holy fire I see my hands
Stained with the blood of a fierce life
Will these sacred lights cleanse me
Or burn me with their righteous fire?
I have not the courage to try