From the very beginning she had followed Melkor, but Melkor knew her not.
At first, she had lingered near Vairë, so alike they were in the weaving of their thoughts. However, the greater Ainu took no notice of her, enraptured instead in the sound of her own song as it intertwined with that of Námo. Regardless, she would not tarry long for the power of Melkor’s song and the might of his essence attracted her. At the same time it caused her fright inducing her to keep distant. Yet, within him was also something else, something that she could not quite place, almost imperceptible, but just tangible enough for her to sense. She had to follow, had to know. So, when Melkor at length descended from the Timeless Halls into Eä, she silently followed, dutiful-like to a master who had yet to perceive her.
Once in the world, Melkor assumed what appeared to her as a magnificent form: a mighty darkness, eyes aflame, power incarnate, to rule with a self-assumed mandate as a king over all he surveyed. And the light emanating from his being was dark, terrible to behold, and caused her great wonderment and something more, something unexpected - a desire akin to hunger.
As Melkor commenced his work, bending and shaping his new realm to his will, she followed his every move, remaining just beyond the boundaries of his perception, hidden in the shadow of her own formlessness. Nothing else did she perceive but him, no other Great Power did she acknowledge but that One upon whom her whole attention focused. Watching, waiting, she willed herself in increasing desperation to know that other, that unknowable part of him that she had first sensed before descending into Eä. It pulled at her with greater strength with every passing moment as the ferocity of Melkor’s own labor increased, eventually compelling her to come forth, drawing her without thought as a moth to the flame. And her mind stretched out to him, tendrils of thought at first like creeping fingers, then a dark fog, drawing ever closer to the seemingly oblivious king.
Then Melkor perceived her and he was both bewildered by the suddenness of her presence and angered by the surprise of it, this unwelcome intrusion into his world and the interruption of his work. Yet despite this, he stood still with astonishment while her thoughts began to wrap around him, feeding on the light of his being, sating her hunger, and probing him for that other, that unknown, tighter and tighter, as if enmeshed by dark webs.
Then, as if waking from a dream, Melkor stirred, then with great might and anger shook off the webs and strode toward her presence so that the ground trembled with his wrath, the flame of his eyes bursting forth. And at that moment, she knew great fear but even greater desire and moreover, elation. For, as he drew near, she perceived it finally, that unknown deep inside of him which first drew her: the darkest of light, dreariness, doom. Then, with Melkor towering above her, she took her form at last--a beautiful darkness, an image of death and desire.
Surprised by her sudden incarnation, Melkor stood transfixed by her beauty and her terror, her demeanor both proud and demure, and it seemed, but for a moment, that the flame of his eyes burned slightly less. Nevertheless, slowly, they brightened in a severe frown and he prepared to strike, but, taking his full measure, she slowly knelt before him, head bowed, and he stayed his hand. His countenance relaxed as his mind descended into deep thought, racing with the possibilities to which he could bend her power toward his great work. As he stood, for ages it seemed, reflecting, her darkness fanned out, encircling around and over them like a fence, blackening out his presence even more than his own black light. He accepted her then, and her fealty--the first he would come to have in his Kingdom of Arda--and she knew that she had found her purpose. Virilomë, she would come to be called, for she would be the weaver of his gloom. Silently, she wept.
The End
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