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After some time, there was a convergence around the Ring of Doom. It was night, the stars glimmered overhead, and the air was clear. The winds of Manwë had driven away the vapours of death. Yavanna arose and stood on Ezellohar, the Green Mound, but it was bare and black. She laid her hands upon the trees but they were dead and dark. Each branch she touched broke in her hand and fell lifeless at her feet. Many cried in grief and mourned the loss of the trees, feeling that they had nearly drained the cup of woe that Melkor had poured for them. But worse was yet to come.
Yavanna spoke to the Valar, "The Light of the Trees has gone, and now lives only in the Silmarils of Fëanor. I brought the Trees into being, but there are some things that can only be accomplished once. I am not able to do this again. But if I had a little of their light, I might recall them to life before their roots decay; then our hurts will be healed."
Manwë turned to Fëanor and asked him, "You have heard the words of Yavanna? Will you grant her what she asks?"
There was a long silence, while Fëanor stood in thought. Finally, Tulkas could stand it no longer. "Tell us yes or no! But who would say no to Yavanna? Did not the light of the Silmarils come from her work at the beginning?"
But Aulë said, "Don't be hasty! We are asking a greater thing than you know. Let him have peace for a little while longer."
But Fëanor cried out bitterly, "For lesser beings there is also work that might be accomplished once, and in this my heart will rest. For I might be able to unlock the jewels, but I shall never be able to make them again. If I must break them, then I will break my heart, and I will be the first Elf slain in Aman."
"Not the first," said Mandos, and they fell silent, confused, while Fëanor brooded in the dark. It seemed to Fëanor that he was surrounded by enemies. The words of Melkor came flooding back, saying the Silmarils were not safe, that the Valar would possess them. "They are as bad as Melkor, and why not? They are of the same race. A thief will reveal thieves." He finally said, "I will not do this. If you make me do this, then I will know that you are truly kindred to Melkor."
Mandos said, "Thou hast spoken."
Nienna arose and went to the Trees. Casting back her hood she washed away the last traces of Ungoliant with her tears. She sang in mourning for the bitterness of the world and the Marring of Arda.
At that moment, messengers arrived from Formenos with evil tidings. A blind Darkness came northward, in the middle of it was an unknown power. Melkor was in the midst of the darkness when it came to the house of Fëanor. There he slew King Finwë in front of his own doors; Finwë was the only one who had not fled before the Dark terror. And they told how Melkor had broken the stronghold of Formenos, and how he had stolen all the gems of the Noldor. Even the Silmarils were gone.
Fëanor rose, and lifting his hand up, he cursed Melkor and named him MORGOTH, the Black Foe of the World. Then he cursed the summons of Manwë, thinking in his rage and grief that if he had been at Formenos, his strength would have prevailed even though he knew that Melkor had intended to slay him there. Then Fëanor ran from the Ring of Doom into the night. He loved his father more than the Light of Valinor or the works of his hands.
Many were grieved for the anguish of Fëanor, but there were still other losses. Yavanna wept in fear that the Darkness would swallow the last of the Light of the Valinor forever. For they did not know what power had helped Melkor, but they knew it came from beyond Arda. The Silmarils were gone, and it may not have mattered whether Fëanor had said yes or no to Yavanna. Still, if he had said "Yes" before receiving the news from Formenos, his actions would have been different. But now the fate of the Noldor drew near.
Meanwhile, Morgoth moved northwards to escape the pursuit of the Valar. He reached the wastes of Araman. This land lay between the Mountains of the Pelóri in the north and the Great Sea; much like Avathar in the south. Araman was a much wider land between the mountains and the sea; there were barren plains which grew colder as he came closer to the Ice. Ungoliant and Melkor went swiftly through this land, coming through the Oiomúrë to the Helcaraxë, where the strait between Aman and Middle-earth was filled with grinding ice. They crossed over and came back at last to the northern stretches of Middle-earth. They went on together because Morgoth could not elude Ungoliant; her cloud was all around him and all her eyes were upon him. Morgoth was close to the ruins of Angband. Ungoliant knew he was seeking to escape from her, but she stopped him, demanding that he fulfill his promise.
"Blackheart!" she said. "I have done thy bidding. I hunger still."
"What would you have?" asked Morgoth. "Do you want the whole world for thy belly? I did not promise you that; for I am its Lord."
"Not that much", said Ungoliant. "But you have taken great treasure from Formenos; I will have that. Yes, with both hands you will give it."
Morgoth surrendered the gems he took. One by one he gave them to her and she devoured them; and so their beauty perished from the world. She grew even larger and darker, but her lust was unsated. "With one hand you have given", she said. "Now open up your other hand." In his right hand, Morgoth held the Silmarils, and although they were locked in a crystal box, they began to burn him. His hand was clenched in pain but he would not open it. "No! You have had your share, for with the power that I put into you, your work is done. You do not need anymore. These things you will not have or even see. They are mine, forever"
Ungoliant had grown great, and Morgoth had diminished by the power that he had used; she rose up against him and her cloud closed around him; she enmeshed him in a web of clinging thongs to strangle him. Then Morgoth sent forth a terrible cry that echoed in the mountains. From that time, the region was named Lammoth, for the echoes of his voice dwelled there ever after. Anyone who cried out loud in that area awoke those echoes, and all the waste between the hills and the sea was filled with a clamour that sounded like many voices in anguish. Morgoth's cry was the greatest and most dreadful that had ever been heard in the north; the mountains shook, the earth trembled and even the rocks were broken. In the deep parts of Angband, where the Valar did not go, the Balrogs waited the return of their Lord; when they heard his cry, they swiftly arose and came as a storm of fire. With their whips of flame, they tore the webs of Ungoliant; in fear she fled from the north and wen! t down into Beleriand and dwelled beneath Ered Gorgoroth. That dark valley was called Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of the Dreadful Death, because of the horror that she bred there. Other foul spider-like creatures had dwelled there and she mated with them, and devoured them. Her offspring lived there, weaving their hideous webs long after Ungoliant left and made her way to the south. Of the fate of Ungoliant, no tale tells. Some have said that she ended long ago when in her uttermost famine, she finally devoured herself.
The Silmarils were in the power of Morgoth. Being free, he gathered all of his servants that he could find, and went to the ruins of Angband. There, they uncovered his vast vaults and dungeons; above their gates, he reared the Threefold peaks of Thangorodrim. There, countless beasts and demons multiplied. There, Morgoth made himself a great crown of iron and called himself King of the World. He set the Silmarils in his crown, even though his hands were burned black by their touch. They remained black ever after; he was never wholly free of the pain of the burning. The crown was never taken off his head, though its weight was a deadly weariness. There in Thangorodrim, his hatred devoured him, he spent his time in the domination of his servants and inspiring others with lust of evil. Even so, his majesty as a Valar long remained, though it was turned to terror and before his face, all except the mightiest sank into a pit of fear.
When it was known that Morgoth had escaped from Aman, the Valar remained seated long in the darkness in the Ring of Doom. The Maiar and the Vanyar stood beside them and wept, but the Noldor returned to Tirion. Through the dim ravine of the Calacirya, fogs drifted in from the shadowy seas and the lamp of Mindon burned pale in the gloom.
Fëanor appeared in Tirion and called on all to come to the high court of the King on Túna; even though he was still under the ban of exile, he rebelled against the Valar. A great crowd gathered to hear what he would say; the hill, the stairs and the streets were lit with many torches. Fëanor was the master of words; and that night he gave a speech before the Noldor that all remembered. Fierce was his words, filled with anger and pride. The Noldor was stirred almost to madness. Fëanor's wrath and hate were turned against Morgoth, but nearly all that he said came from Morgoth's words. Fëanor was distraught with grief with the slaying of his father, and he was in anguish over the thievery of the Silmarils. He now claimed the high kingship over the Noldor because of the death of Finwë. For the same reason, he scorned the decree of the Valar.
"Why, O People of the Noldor, should we serve the jealous Valar who cannot keep us or themselves secure from the Enemy? Although he is now their foe, are they not the same kindred? Vengeance calls me, but even if it did not, I would not live in the same land as the kin of my father's slayer. Yet I am not the only valiant one in this valiant people. Have you all not lost your King? What else have you lost, penned up in this narrow land between the mountains and the sea? Shall we remain here, deedless forever, a shadow folk? Or shall we return to our home? In Cuiviénen under the stars in wide lands, a free people might walk. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!"
Fëanor made a great speech, ever urging the Noldor to follow him and by their own strength win freedom in the lands of the east before it was too late. He echoed the lies of Morgoth; that the Valar would hold them in a guilded cage so that Men could rule in Middle-earth. Many of the Elves heard for the first time about the "Aftercomers".
"Fair shall the end be," he cried, "though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage! But say farewell also to ease! Say farewell to the weak! Say farewell to your treasures! More still shall we make. Journey light: but bring your swords! For we will go further than Oromë, endure longer than Tulkas: we will never turn back. We will pursue Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and have regained the Silmarils, then we and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda. No other race shall oust us!"
Then Fëanor swore a terrible oath. His seven sons leaped to his side and took the same vow together; their drawn swords shone as red as blood in the glare of the torches. They swore an oath which none would break, and they named in witness Manwë and Varda and the mountain of Taniquetil. They vowed to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the end of the World, any Vala, Demon, Elf or Man or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that would hold or keep a Silmaril from their possession.
This oath was spoken by Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Curufin, Caranthir, Amrod and Amras, the seven princes of the Noldor. Many of the Noldor quailed when they heard them speak those words. For such an oath for good or evil, may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and the oathbreaker to the ends of the earth, to the end of time.
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Fingolfin and his son Turgon spoke against Fëanor and fierce words were exchanged. But Finarfin spoke softly, seeking to persuade them to pause and ponder before hasty actions could not be undone; his son Orodreth spoke in the same fashion. Finrod was with Turgon, his friend. But Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone. No oath she swore, but the words of Fëanor about Middle-earth burned in her heart; she wanted to see the wide lands and rule there a kingdom of her own. Fingolfin's son, Fingon, wanted the same as Galadriel, though he did not like Fëanor. Angrod and Aegnor, sons of Finarfin were also of like mind to Fingon and Galadriel. But they held their peace and did not go against their fathers.
After a long debate, Fëanor prevailed, and the greater part of the Noldor was aflame with the desire of new things and strange countries. When Finarfin again counselled delay, a great shout went up, "Nay, let us be gone!" With that, the sons of Fëanor began to prepare for the march.
There was no way to be prepared for such a dark journey, but Fëanor pressured them to leave swiftly. He did not want their hearts to cool and take heed of the others who counselled caution. In his proud words, he did not forget the power of the Valar. But no messages came from Valmar, and Manwë was silent. He would not forbid or hinder Fëanor; the Valar were anguished that they were charged with evil intent toward the Eldar or that they held them captive against their will. They watched and waited for they did not believe that the Noldor would keep following Fëanor.
As Fëanor began to gather them together for setting out, dissension arose. Although the Noldor were eager to depart, they were not as eager to take Fëanor as their king. Greater love was given to Fingolfin and his sons. The dwellers of Tirion refused to renounce Fingolfin as King and sought to persuade him to take the journey. Fingolfin decided to go because his son, Finrod, urged him, and because he did not wish to be separated from his people. But his main reason for going was that he did not wish to leave his people in the rash hands of Fëanor. Nor did he forget the words he spoke at the throne of Manwë. Nearly one-tenth of the Noldor did not go; they loved the Valar, especially Aulë; some stayed because they loved Tirion where they lived. None stayed because they were afraid of the journey.
They set out in two groups; the first and smaller was led by Fëanor, while Fingolfin led the larger host. Finarfin also went, but he was most reluctant to depart. As the first trumpet rang to announce their departure, a messenger came at last from Manwë saying, "Do not go! For the hour is evil and your road leads to much sorrow you cannot see. The Valar will not aid you in this quest, but they will not stop you. This you know: that as you came here freely, you may depart freely. But you, Fëanor, by your oath, you are exiled. The lies of Melkor you shall unlearn in bitterness. Vala he is, you say. But you have sworn in vain, for you cannot overcome any of the Valar within Eä, not even if Eru had made you three times greater than you are now."
Fëanor laughed and spoke to his people, "So! Will you valiant people send the heir to your King into banishment with his sons, so that you can return to slavery? For those that come with me, I say: Is sorrow your fate? We have seen sorrow in Aman; we have gone from bliss to sorrow. Now we will try the other, to go from sorrow to joy, or freedom at least." Turning to the herald he cried, "Say to Manwë Súlimo: If Fëanor cannot overthrow Morgoth, at least he doesn't hesitate to attack him! He doesn't sit idle in grief. And it may be that Eru has set a fire greater in me than you know. Such hurt I will do to the enemy of the Valar that even the Mighty in the Ring of Doom will hear of it. Yes, in the end they will follow me! Farewell!" The voice of Fëanor was so great and powerful that the herald of the Valar bowed low before him and departed.
The march began with the House of Fëanor going swiftly up the coasts of Elendë. Not once did they turn to look back at Tirion on the green hill of Túna. Slowly and less eagerly came the host of Fingolfin. Finrod was in the front; in the rear was Fingolfin and Finrod and many of the noblest and wisest of the Noldor; often they looked back at their fair city, until the lamp of Mindon Eldaliéva was lost in the night. More than the others, they remembered the bliss they had forsaken.
Fëanor first led his people north, following Morgoth. As the journey lengthened and Fëanor cooled off enough to take counsel, he perceived that these great companies would never be able to cross the lands to the north, nor could they cross the Great Sea without ships. It would take time to build a fleet of ships large enough to carry the great group that followed, even if the Noldor were skilled in that craft. Fëanor resolved to persuade the Teleri to join him; in his rebellion he thought that if he could convince the Teleri to leave, it would further diminish Valinor and his power against Morgoth would be greater. He hastened to the Teleri with a small escort; his people followed more slowly. He spoke before the Teleri as he had spoken before the Noldor in Tirion.
But the Teleri were unmoved. They were saddened by the Noldor going, but they wished to dissuade them rather than aid them. They would lend no ships, nor would they help build others against the will of the Valar. For themselves, they desired no home but Eldamar; they wanted no lord other than Olwë, the prince of Alqualondë. Olwë never listened to Morgoth or welcomed him to his land. He trusted that Ulmo and the Valar would address the crimes of Morgoth; that night would soon pass to a new dawn.
Fëanor grew angry for he feared delay, and he spoke hotly to Olwë "You renounce your friendship in our hour of need. Yet you were glad to receive our aid when you came at last to these shores as faint-hearted loiterers, empty-handed. You would be living in huts on the beaches if we had not carved out your haven and worked on your walls."
Olwë answered, "We do not renounce friendship. But it is up to a friend to point out another friend's foolishness. As for our white ships: You did not give us those. We learned our craft from the Lords of the Sea; the white wood we worked with our own hands, and the sails were woven by our wives and daughters. We will not give them nor sell them. For, I say to you, Fëanor son of Finwë, these ships are to us, and the gems are to the Noldor. They are the work of our hearts, and we will not be able to make ships like these again."
With that, Fëanor left and sat in dark thought beyond the walls of Alqualondë while his host assembled. When he judged his strength was enough, he went to the Haven of the Swans and began to man the ships that were anchored there, to take them away by force. But the Teleri withstood him, and threw many of the Noldor into the sea. Then swords were drawn, and a bitter fight broke out on the ships and spread to the quays and piers of the Haven to the great gate. Three times the people of Fëanor were driven back and many were slain on both sides. At this point, the great host of the Noldor arrived, with Fingon in the forefront. When they came upon the scene, they saw their kin falling in battle, and they rushed in before they knew the cause of the quarrel; some thought that the Teleri wanted to waylay the march of the Noldor at the bidding of the Valar.
The Teleri were overcome, and a great part of the mariners were slain. The Noldor were fierce and desperate; the Teleri had less strength and did not use swords. The Noldor took the ships and manned the oars as best as they could, and rowed along the coast. Then Olwë called upon Ossë, but Ossë could not come. The Valar had decreed that the flight of the Noldor could not be hindered. But Uinen wept for the mariners of the Teleri and the sea rose in wrath against their slayers; many of the ships were wrecked and those in them drowned. Of the Kinslaying in Alqualondë, more is told in the lament named Noldolantë, the Fall of the Noldor, that MAGLOR made before he was lost.
The greater part of the Noldor escaped, and when the storm was past, they held their course. Some were on the ships and some were on land, but the way was long and more evil as they went forward. When they reached the northern borders of Araman, they saw a dark figure standing high on a rock that looked down upon the shore. Some say it was Mandos himself who came to deliver his message. They heard a loud voice, solemn and terrible. They halted and stood still, and from end to end of the hosts of the Noldor, the voice was heard speaking the curse and prophecy which is called the Prophecy of the North and The Doom of the Noldor. It foretold many things in dark words which few understood until the events came about. All heard the words of the fate that was upon those who would not stay and seek the judgement and pardon of the Valar.
"Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lies, from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be forever.
"Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken!"
Many were afraid, but Fëanor said, "We have sworn, and not lightly. This oath we will keep. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on, and this doom I add: the deeds that we shall do shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda."
But in that hour, Finarfin turned back being filled with grief and bitterness against the House of Fëanor and because of his kinship with Olwë. Many of his people went with him, retracing their steps in sorrow. In Tirion, they received the pardon of the Valar, and Finarfin rules the remnant of the Nolder there. But his children did not go with him for they would not leave the sons of Fingolfin. All of Fingolfin's folk went forward, some because they feared to face the judgement of the Valar. They were not entirely guiltless of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. Fingon and Turgon were they were bold and fiery of heart, and did not like to abandon any task until the bitter end, if bitter it must be. So the main host went on; swiftly the evil that was foretold began its work.
The Noldor came at last to the north parts of Arda, where they saw the first teeth of ice that floated in the sea. They knew they were close to the Helcaraxë, the strait full of ice between the continents of Aman and Middle-earth. None had ever braved crossing the lands there except Morgoth and Ungoliant.
Fëanor halted and the Noldor debated the next course of action. They were beginning to suffer from the cold; many began to regret the road they had taken, especially the followers of Fingolfin. They began to curse Fëanor, naming him as the cause of all the woes of the Eldar. Fëanor and his sons saw two courses of action, they could go on land over the ice, or go by ship. But the Helcaraxë was nearly impassible, and there were not enough ships to take them all. Although they could use the ships as ferries, there was a great fear of treachery throughout the Noldor.
Fëanor and his sons seized the ships taking along those who bound to his house. As he was leaving, a wind sprang from the northwest to speed them along their way. Steering east and somewhat south, the ships sailed into the mouth of the firth called Drengist which ran into Dor-lómin.
When they had landed, Maedhros, the eldest son of Fëanor and a friend of Fingon before Morgoth's lies came between them, spoke to his father. "What ships will you send back? And what rowers will you spare? Who will they bring first? Fingon the valiant?" But Fëanor laughed, "None and none!! What I have left behind is useless baggage. Let those who cursed my name curse me again and whine their way back to the Valar! Let the ships burn!!". And there in the place called Losgar at the outlet of the firth of Drengist, ended the fairest vessels that ever sailed the sea. From the far shores in Aman, Fingolfin and his people saw the light, red beneath the clouds, and they knew they had been betrayed. This was the first of the fruit of the Kinslaying and the Doom of the Noldor.
Fingolfin knew that Fëanor had left him to either die in the wastes of Araman or to return in shame to Valinor. He was now determined to go to Middle-earth and meet Fëanor again. He led his people north, and although his host journeyed in misery, their valour and endurance grew with increasing hardship. They were the Children of Eru/Ilúvatar; they were not yet weary with the weariness of the earth. They braved the bitterness of the North crossing the cruel hills of ice. Few deeds surpassed that desperate crossing. Turgon's wife, Elenwë, was lost, and many others perished. Fingolfin led a smaller host when he set foot at last upon the Outer Lands. Those who marched behind him had little love for Fëanor or his sons, but they blew their trumpets at last in Middle-earth at the first rising of the newly created Moon.