A/N: And now... The continuation.

The absolute blackness that covered the holy mountain even put out the great fires of the hall. Eve couldn't see past her hand. An absolute, complete silence fell over Taniquetil, over Ilmarim, and to the ears of the Valar, over all of Aman save the sorrowing Falmari by the sea.

Someone moved in the hall, and moments later a great light shone forth from the outstretched hand of Queen Varda. She ignited the painted constellations above them, but shook her head. "These will not hold for long."

Oromë gathered up his hunters from those who were gathered. Manwë called his eagles. Together with them and Tulkas, The Hunter sped forth from the hall, blowing his Valaróma with all his strength. Then and only then did sound return to the hall. For at the great call of the horn of the Valar, panic spread.

"Melkor." Eve breathed his name silently, terrified that the devil would show his face. Eve grabbed Finno's hand, tears staining her cheeks. "Finno, it's Melkor." She could see the fear in his eyes as well.

Murmurs of Melkor's impending arrival wove through the great hall. No one knew what to do. Hearing Itarille's quiet cries, Eve knelt down next to her and Elenwë. Itaril's mother, her own cheeks stained with tears, hugged her child.

"It's going to be alright," Eve assured Itaril. "I promise." But she knew her words sounded hollow in the darkness around them.

"The Light of the Trees has passed away," Yavanna announced moments later, coming forth into the midst of the elves. She approached the House of Finwë. "It lives now only in the Silmarils of Fëanáro. Foresighted was he. Even for those who are mightiest under Iluvatar there is some work that they may accomplish once, and only once." She turned to Fëanáro. "Yet had I but a little of that light I could recall life to the Trees, before their roots decay; and then our hurt should be healed and the malice of Melkor be ruined."

Silence fell over the hall again. All eyes turned to Fëanáro, even as Manwë spoke to him. "Do you hear the words of Yavanna, Fëanáro son of Finwë? Will you grant what she would ask?"

Eve watched as Fëanáro stood in silence. She could all but see his mind working a million times over. He hesitated, which Eve found remarkable. He was actually considering their request. Perhaps the time in Formenos did him some good, she thought.

But Tulkas bitterly spoke in his contemplation. "Speak, Noldo, yea or nay. But who shall deny Yavanna? And did not the light of the Silmarils come from her work in the beginning?"

"Be not hasty!" cautioned Aulë immediately, "We ask a greater thing than you know. Let him have peace yet awhile."

But Fëanáro's eyes blazed in fury at Tulkas' words. He cried out with bitterness, "For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish only once! In this deed his heart shall rest."

The entire hall listened to his words carefully. Finno and Eve held hands tightly, her other hand in Elenwë's. Fëanáro stepped forward towards the Valar again.

"It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like." Then he paused, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "And if I must break them, I shall break my heart... and I shall be slain, first of all the Eldar in Aman."

"Not the first."

Eve watched as Fëanáro stood silent again. Her entire body shook from a mixture of sadness, fear, and cold. The Trees had radiated warmth, both physical and emotional. Melkor, the demon, he had returned and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Bitterly she turned to Tulkas. She couldn't help but think that if the Vala had only shut his mouth and let Fëanáro think, the elf might've agreed to help. But instead Tulkas had squandered all hope of reigniting the trees.

"If he had shut up," Eve murmured fiercely. "The Valar are short sighted."

Finno turned to her in surprise. "What?"

"Tulkas! Oromë! Manwë!" She glared at her husband. "If they had dealt with Melkor, none of this would've happened. If they'd restrained him! If they'd-"

"Peace, Elmendë," interrupted Finno. "I agree, things could've been handled... better. But becoming enraged towards the Valar will do nothing."

Murmurs erupted in the hall of leaving Valinor. She didn't know who started them. But not for the first time, the rumors sounded attractive. Leave this place, a place full of hurt and reminders of what could've been.

Fëanáro spoke again. "This thing I will not do of free well! But, if the Valar will constrain me, then shall I know indeed that Melkor is of their kindred."

Mandos nodded. "Thou hast spoken."

They saw Nienna disappear. The House of Finwë began to gather, all three houses together. It hardly felt natural, but Eve realized this was the first time in years that such a thing had happened. Elemmírë and Marillië joined them too. The former went to Káno and spoke quietly. Eve heard her say that she would compose a poem of this day, the day the world died. She wanted Káno to put it to music. Both had tears in their eyes.

Eve looked to her eldest brother. He looked sad, but not panicking. That made her feel better. Moments later, however, they heard the great cry of eagles not far away. The doors were thrust open and three elves entered. They held a body.

"Formenos is broken!" cried the first. "A great shadow, an unlight, came upon us!" The man broke into tears. "King Finwë is slain, the jewels taken. The Silmarils are with the unlight."

Eve stood, stunned. Past her rushed Fëanáro in a blur. She watched him kneel beside the body of his father. His shoulders tensed, his entire body rigid. After hesitating, he laid a hand on his father's face.

Moments later, with that same hand covered in the blood of his beloved father, Fëanáro stood and faced the stricken Valar. He raised his hand. "With all that is my being I curse the Vala, Melkor. From now until the end of the ages he shall be called Morgoth, only. Forever more I shall seek his demise." Then he shouted again. "And I curse now the summons of the Valar. Jailcrows they are, seeking to separate me from my father. Never again shall I trust their words."

And with that, he fled into the darkness. The House of Fëanáro didn't react immediately. By now, the rest of the House of Finwë had gathered around the broken body of Finwë, blood stained. But Eve, moved by Fëanáro's words, had no desire to be in the presence of the Valar. While she didn't believe as he that they had purposefully separate Fëanáro and Finwë, she did think that their shortsightedness had caused strife. And for that, she raged.

Eventually the elves decided to head back to Tirion. Eve and her brothers all wanted to find Fëanáro, and Finno didn't want to let Eve go alone. By now the unlight had passed, and Varda's stars shined clear above them. It guided them, just as it had the first elves millenia ago. They got their horses after leaving Ilmarin and rode the day journey back to their home.

When they got there, Eve, Finno, and her brothers found Fëanáro standing in the throne room of the palace in contemplation. He stood, rigid, glaring at the empty throne, back to the doors. With their entrance, Fëanáro turned. "Gather the people."

Eve couldn't meet his fierce gaze. She and Finno left the room with the others. But instead of obeying his order, for Eve knew it wasn't for her or her husband, they went to find the House of Nolofinwë instead.

They found Elenwë, Itarillë, and Turvo sitting on the steps of Tirion, looking down at the docks. The usually shining white marble only reflected the small bit of light the stars gave off. The water, crashed against the shore more fiercely than usual. Ossë clearly busied himself that night.

"Morgoth indeed is a good name for him," Turvo muttered as they came upon them. "Darkness only he brings, to the sky and to the heart."

Eve nodded, sitting beside Elenwë. "Fëanáro is gathering the people."

"He will think himself king," Turvo muttered. "But his sentence of exile was never lifted."

Elenwë agreed immediately. "I fear his anger will drive us to wrath."

"Maybe we should be getting angry," Finno muttered as he stood behind the rest of the seated friends. He looked out into the raging sea. "It's time we got mad. The time for sitting at home is over, Turvo. I don't know what to get angry at, other than Mel..Morgoth. But I will not rest until we decide to do something."

"You sound like the sons of Fëanáro," Turvo huffed.

Finno shook his head. "I do not mean turning the fight against the Valar. But if they will do nothing, maybe we should."

"Against Morgoth?" The shock on Elenwë's face said it all. "We wouldn't stand a chance."

"There's valor in our people," argued Finno.

Eve sighed. "I don't know what to think."

A great clamor sounded from the city behind them. They shared a look before rushing to find what was happening. As they came into view, they heard Fëanáro speaking.

"Why, O people of the Noldor," he cried out, "why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy? And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father's stayer and of the thief of my treasure."

Eve, Finno, Turvo, Elenwë, and Itarillë pushed their way forward until they found the younger houses. They stood next to Findo and Artanis. Their grey eyes turned upwards towards the lord speaking. They didn't even register that they others approached.

"What's happening?" asked Eve quietly.

Findo looked over at her and gestured to Fëanáro. "He has claimed kingship."

"Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have you not all lost your King? And what else have you not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?" He gestured to the direction of Taniquetil when the shouts went up in agreement. "Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all."

Eve nodded in agreement with him. His words were true. Darkness didn't discriminate. And here, she now only felt sadness for what she'd lost. It hurt, her heart physically pained. She shut her eyes, bidding her tears not to fall.

"Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? or shall we return to our home? In Cuivienen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!" --

Eve found herself wrestling with Fëanáro's words. She had learned much from Nerdanel, but she held a great deal of respect for Fëanáro. Even now, as he spoke over them in fury, she could see the passion in his eyes and felt inspired.

She felt a desire kindled in her heart, a desire to see far lands that Findaráto had taught her about in their history lessons. Wide lands, between mountains and rivers and the ocean, they called to her. With Fëanáro's words she could see them. Maybe they could make a new life there, a life without constant reminders of what could have been.

Author's Note:

One more chapter to go!

The world is coming apart at the seams. 

Is Eve going to take the oath?

Tune in next time!

There will be no epilogue, so I will be publishing chapter one of A Different Kind of Hell directly after I publish the last chapter here.