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Now their custom was on the third day to robe themselves all in white and blue and ascend to the heights of Taniquetil, and there would Manwë speak to them as he thought fit of the Music of the Ainur and the glory of Ilúvatar, and of things to be and that had been. And on that day would Kôr and Valmar be silent and still, but the roof of the world and the slope of Taniquetil shine with the gleaming raiment of the Gods and Elves, and all the mountains echo with their speech—but afterward on the last day of merriment the Gods would come to Kôr and sit upon the slopes of its bright hill, gazing in love upon that slender town, and thereafter blessing it in the name of Ilúvatar would depart ere Silpion came to bloom; and so would end the days of Double Mirth.

But in this fateful year Melko dared of his blasphemous heart to choose that very day of Manwë’s speech upon Taniquetil for the carrying out of his designs; for then would Kôr and Valmar and the rock-ringed dale of Sirnúmen be unguarded: for against whom indeed had Elf or Vala need to guard in those old days?

Creeping then down with his dark people on the third day of Samírien, as that feast was named, he passed the dark halls of Makar’s abode (for even that wild Vala had gone to Valmar to honour the time, and indeed all of the Gods went there saving Fui and Vefántur only, and Ossë even was there, dissembling for those seven days his feud and jealousy with Ulmo). Here does a thought come to Melko’s heart, and he arms himself and his band stealthily with swords very sharp and cruel, and this was well for them: for now do they all steal into the vale of Sirnúmen where the Noldoli had their present dwelling, and behold the Gnomes by reason of the workings in their hearts of Melko’s own teaching had become wary and suspicious beyond the wont of the Eldar of those days. Guards of some strength were set over the treasures there that went not to the feast, albeit this was contrary to the customs and ordinances of the Gods. Now is there suddenly bitter war awake in the heart of Valinor and those guards are slain, even while the peace and gladness upon Taniquetil afar is very great—indeed for that reason none heard their cries. Now Melko knew that it was indeed war for ever between himself and all those other folk of Valinor, for he had slain the Noldoli—guests of the Valar—before the doors of their own homes. With his own hand indeed he slew Bruithwir father of Fëanor,3 and bursting into that rocky house that he defended laid hands upon those most glorious gems, even the Silmarils, shut in a casket of ivory. Now all that great treasury of gems he despoiled, and lading himself and all his companions to the utmost he seeks how he may escape.

Know then that Oromë had great stables and a breeding ground of good horses not so far from this spot, where a wild forest land had grown up. Thither Melko steals, and a herd of black horses he captures, cowing them with the terror that he could wield. Astride those his whole company of thieves rides far away, after destroying what things of lesser value they deemed it impossible to carry thence. Making a wide circuit and faring with the speed of hurricanes such as only the divine horses of Oromë ridden by the children of the Gods could compass they pass far to the west of Valmar in the untracked regions where the light of the Trees was thin. Long ere the folk had come down from Taniquetil and long ere the end of the feast or ever the Noldoli fared back to find their homes despoiled, Melko and his [?thieves] were ridden to the deep south, and finding there a low place in the hills they passed into the plains of Eruman. Well might Aulë and Tulkas bemoan their carelessness in leaving that low place long ago when they reared those hills to fend all evil from the plain—for that was the place where they were accustomed to enter Valinor after their quarryings in the fields of Arvalin.4 It is said indeed that this riding in a half-circle, laborious and perilous as it was, was at first no part of