Prologue

Elves, the Firstborn of Eru, the One, and the most beloved by the Valar. Beauty, grace and immortality were their companions. They excelled in everything from knowledge, craftsmanship and skills in healing... even warfare. But for all their achievements and natural splendor, they are not above the fell whispers of the deep recesses of the heart and mind. For Elves too are susceptible to lust and want, and twice in their history have they done battle with their own kind for material trifles.

For all the hurts and grievances they did to one another, their greatest enemy of all time was the corrupt Vala known as Morgoth. Once the greatest of all of Eru’s singers, the Dark Lord lusted after the prized jewels of the Elves, stopping at nothing to claim them. His schemes turned brothers against one another, driving much of the host of Elves to return to the Middle-earth from the Blessed Lands to claim back what was theirs, what he took from them.

Dark were those days when none could be trusted. Many fell by the sword, defending their lands and people against the armies of Morgoth. Those less fortunately were captured, tortured, beaten or worse. Scattered the Elves became, their allegiances to one another stretched thin. But all looked to the High King Fingolfin for guidance. And when he fell in single combat against Morgoth, his son Fingon took up the mantle and the kingship. But hope for the future rested with Fingolfin’s second son.

Turgon, led by visions sent to him by the Vala Ulmo, searched for a sanctuary for his people. He found it, in the Encircling Mountains far from enemy eyes, and even that of his own people. In secret he delved a city, a white city to rival that of Valinor’s very own Tirion. And this city would become great in its own time and all the Ages that followed. This city would be the Stone Song... Gondolin.