This is the beginning of a rather long story that was never continued after its first episode. Based on parts of Tolkien's Silmarillion, this story details and expands on the story of Ungoliant, the great spider, after she and Melkor invaded Valinor and slew the Two Trees, Telperion and Laurelin. The role of Aseariel is entirely my own creation, and not even vaguely hinted at in Tolkien's works.

Asëariel

or

Child of The Lights and Trees

Across darkening vales and beneath a misty twilight of stars unchanging Ungoliant crept, slow and painfully, out from the murky black mouth of her lair. When, but a few weeks ago, she had tried, in her insatiable greed to take the Silmarils from Melkor and had been, because of it, attacked and pursued by his servants, those fiery spirits whom the elves name balrogs, she had fled and hid herself in the lower caves and swampy lurks of the dark gloaming mountains. There she brooded over her loss and waited until she was at last certain that none pursued her any longer. Thus she crept out from her lair in search of food. As she had lain in the blackness her anguish had grown, seething and writhing within her like a living storm. For she had drunk of the pure and living saps of Laurelin and Telperion, whose two flames, silver and gold, tormented her from within. They were light and hope – but she was darkness and despair; they were purity and healing and she was of the utmost harm and putrid impurity. In her agony she lay and fell into fitful realms of sleep and forgetfulness, seeking in her despair and pain an escape from those consuming fires, which were melded into on silver-gold flame as they swirled within her. But no darkness, or forgetting, numbness or night could free her from the pain she had brought upon herself: the reality of her darkness. Her pain knew no bounds – but she would not have had it otherwise. So blind and foolish was she in the pride of her triumph, the child of her greed, that she thought the pain too to be her prize and brooded upon it, loving and loathing it as she loved and loathed herself.

Such was how she lived in pain with her own self and ever did she think only upon the victory she had won over the Vala and their weak pets the elves, bloating her ego, as she had bloated her body until the two vast, swollen and misshapen darknesses matched each other in their twin foul greatnesses. Her pain she made her pride and little did she know what loss she would soon suffer and what boon to the world she would give, unwillingly, but never to be regained.

For it so happened that upon the ninety-ninth day, as it would have been had Laurelin and Telperion yet shone each waning as the other waxed, from when she had drunk them near to dryness of their life-giving sap, Ungoliant, peering out of her bower beheld a great sight. For it seemed, as she looked, that two great orbs, one silver as the leaves of Telperion at full-waxing, and one golden as the flowers of Laurelin when that tree had reached its zenith, rose above the mountain-peaks and ascending into the upper-airs began to travel across the sky, the golden with greater speed and brightness than the silver, yet each shining no less terrible than the other. And ever did they shine and though they themselves did not wax and wane, brighten and dim, their light grew receded as they traveled through the upper-airs and then beneath the earth in an ever constant circle which would be their appointed path unto the end of the world.

Upon her understanding that these two great lights were indeed from the Two Trees Ungoliant's wrath flamed hot, and as their light shone together through her eight bulbous and rolling eyes into her mind and deeper within the flames swirled and raged, growing and brightening until they could no longer find room in her darkness where into they might be. So it was that Ungoliant bowed down her great bulk and the swelling, surging gold and silver fires forced their way out from within her and fell, in the form of a glowing, shimmering orb, which pulsed swirling bands of gold and silver and hummed with a rising tune, sweet and melodious as if it came soaring from the throats of Yavanna's loveliest birds and surged, like great rivers singing underground. So piercing and terrible, high and deep, bright and dim was it that Ungoliant was struck with a great fear and stood, as one turned to stone, staring in awe and terror at the glowing thing.

It lay, amidst the reek and foul of Ungoliant's lair, humming and shimmering until, slowly and sweetly the glow faded 'till the aura around it had thinned and it formed itself into a solid orb, like a great pearly egg, ever pulsing but not as it had before. For its throb changed to that of a heart, beating and thrumming and so did the music swell and fall, like a living tide, with each glowing pulse. At the fading of the orb's terrible light Ungoliant came out of her stupor and reaching towards it one greedy claw touched the pulsing ball's shell. It burned her, like no fire within had before and she drew her cruel claw sharply back. Her frustration, however, was matched and overwhelmed by her curiosity and her greed faded behind it like the a candle before a bonfire.

Lowering her now wrinkled and shrunken body to the ground Ungoliant lay beside the orb, never taking her gaze from it for fear it should vanish from before her like a light snuffed out. / Many days she lay, unmoving and silent beside the orb and so unfaltering was her watch that it was upon the seventy-sixth day that as she peered closely upon, as she had not been able to do before, it was with surprise and dread that she noticed the orbs glow had indeed faded almost beyond sight. All that remained was the song and pulsing heart-beat, both now faint and slow as of a thought that diminished into fading memory. First Ungoliant had thought to break the orb, for as it had dimmed so had it cooled, and discover the cause of its fading, but she waited as if held by some unseen hand of restraint until the next day.

Then, as the Two Great Lights shone on that seventy-seventh day, both together in the Western sky and full upon the pearly orb did that silver-gold ball begin to shake and tremble, it's song and light growing strong again, stronger, even, than they had ever been before. So bright and piercing did the song and light become that Ungoliant could no longer bear to look upon it and curled up, wrapping her legs around her in a feeble attempt to keep from hearing the brightening song. It grew, ever stronger like a swelling tide until, with a last piercing note, high and terrible as the voice of Nienna raised in deepest lament the orb shivered and its shell burst asunder. And with that breaking the terrible noise and light ceased.

Trembling in her own slime Ungoliant rose slowly to her clawed feet and approached the silvery-gold mist where the orb had lain. But she dared not enter and standing before it, as she had so many nights and days the orb, she watched and waited. Yet this time her wait was not so long. For through the shimmering mist a light began once more to beat, though no song was with it. Slowly, and with a whispering sigh as of a beautiful tale ended or a new dawn begun the mists parted and out from them, trembling and wet, shivering and shimmering a tiny form stumbled forward. It's eight, long and spindly legs seem hardly strong enough to bear the little creature's silvery-gold body, but bear it they did and up to Ungoliant the hatchling spider tottered and coming to the feet of the first living thing it saw with its shining bright golden eyes the little thing sank down, curling its frail legs about it and with a chittering sigh fell fast asleep.

As its head lowered and breathing deepened a light, hovering note ascended, like unto the song of before but gentler now and with a kinder radiance. As if the first song had been a great and terribly swirling storm of music and light and this was now but a shimmering dew-drop upon sunlit grass. Clear and bright but sweet with a healing gladness and innocence it so entranced Ungoliant who never before had beheld beauty without wishing to devour it that she lowered herself gently to the ground beside the sleeping spiderlet and gazed silently upon the humming creature. In that moment Eru held out to her a hand of mercy, that she might be redeemed through the love of her daughter and so learn to love again, as she had forgotten long ago. But even this great and final mercy Ungoliant was too dark to receive and she looked upon her first offspring, the child of her strength with jealousy. For as she had consumed the light of the Two Trees before it had burned her, yet this thing, small and weak in comparison with its begetter, shone in a purity undefiled that Ungoliant both loathed and lusted for. She longed that such beauty and power might have been hers but her darkness was too great for that great purity. And so she possessed her daughter, as a great treasure, and jealously guarded her never even allowing that her treasure should venture from the burrow wherein in Ungoliant dwelt. Ever did Ungoliant yearn for the power and beauty of her child, and ever was she thwarted from it. For the song, which before had seemed so lovely when the spiderlet slept had at once turned painful and haunting to Ungoliant when she turned from the chance of love and instead chose greed. That song, Eru's gift to the child, protected her and grew within her to a purest ember of goodness and love that, when the time was right, would awaken to a flame which would free her from the clutches of her mother unto goodness and light in the outer world.

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So it came to pass that the child grew under the care and protection of Ungoliant, her mother and keeper. And she named herself Asëariel, which, in the tongue of the High Elves, means Daughter of Kindness. This she meant in hope of her own future and in honor of what she saw as Ungoliant's kindness for caring for her and giving her a home. If home could be a name given to the foul and reeking lair wherein she lived, but she knew no other or better. Between daughter and mother their was respect and courtesy – though no love. For, even as it pained Asëariel that she did not love her mother, as she knew child should, her love could not find rest in one so dark and dreadful. Little did she understand the repulsion she had for Ungoliant, she did not know that this was because her mother was evil, while Asëariel was not.

Through her younger years and into her adulthood Asëariel's song grew and strengthened within her, though she did not hear it for only did it awaken when she was asleep. But it haunted Ungoliant unto madness and she would have slain her daughter in her sleep had the song not been so terrible that she could not even approach Asëariel without falling into a darkness of forgetfulness and sleep – and pain.

Never did Asëariel venture out of the bower to hunt, as Ungoliant did, for her mother would not allow her and Asëariel dared not disobey. But she often dreamed of the things in the outer world, her dreams coming from thoughts and minds not her own, wherein rivers flowed beneath sunlit trees and birds sang in their branches. Wherein flowers blossomed and faded and fruit ripened and fell. Wherein winds played in grassy plains and deer ran through forests untamed. Wherein elves danced and sang – fairest of all folk – beneath the stars and moon. And in her dreams Asëariel grew to love all the beautiful things she saw – especially the elves for their song was to her so lovely a thing, in many small ways akin to her own. And though they were but the beauties of her dreaming she believed them real and was thus not so surprised as Ungoliant had intended when, at a time, her mother brought one such into their cave. She, that is Ungoliant, had sought to make Asëariel hate the elves as she did, but Asëariel would and could not do so. She loved them, too much to be turned from that love and Ungoliant saw with dread and hatred that there was naught she could do to make Asëariel change her choice. Thus Ungoliant hunted the elves and loathed them with a terrible loathing, unmatched in her greed she longed no more for elf blood to drink but to pour it forth from them in long and agonizing hours of torment, until, in agony of despair, they let go their life and died. Asëariel wept at their pain, so fair a people, and when she heard their screams she hid deep within the mountain caves, desperately wishing that she might stop the wrong but terrified lest she incur the hatred of her own mother. This, though she did not know it, she already had. Truly did she love the elves, but she feared Ungoliant more.

Over the years Asëariel grew, and as she waxed in strength, stature and beauty her mother's despair and hatred of her light grew so that Ungoliant, in her hunting, roamed farther and longer from her bower in search of lovely things upon which she might vent her wrath. So it was that as the journeying of Anar and Isil turned into years, those two great lights whose rising had brought Asëariel into the world, Ungoliant returned to her bower less and less often with food for herself and Asëariel but instead dragged many of the fair folk across the lands and into her lair of death, where from none ever issued forth again. A few of these elves were women and children yet more men, for these Ungoliant hated more than all others. It was they who defied her and they who sought after her in turn to avenge the deaths of their kin, though they never found her. And Ungoliant laughed at them as she crouched, concealed amongst her great webs, waiting for them to stumble upon her in the dark. In this way many a great warrior of the elves died under Ungoliant's torturing claw and her thirst for revenge was, if not quenched, stayed, for a time upon the blood of elves.

As Ungoliant continued to ensnare and torment the fair ones whom Aseariel loved so she did take to wandering further and further into the caves and tunnels of the mountains. There she would lay, for days and weeks on end and simply dream, for in her dreams she found relief and refreshment beyond anything food and water could ever give. Thus as her spirit did strengthen, her body weakened and she returned home seldom, if she could avoid it, until Ungoliant, fearful of losing her prize, sought after her daughter to bring her back. Then, it seemed, during these short times of loss that Ungoliant would repent and would hunt no elves but instead bring home animal meat fro her daughter. But such episodes did not last long and as soon as Aseariel would strengthen again Ungoliant's jealousy would grow and she would once again, hunt and torment the elves. This, in turn would drive Asëariel deep and far away, further each time and as she wandered deeper and deeper into the mountain caves, and more often, her dreams, which had before been such a sweet and lovely releif from her real life, changed. They began to show not only peace and joy, but war and sorrow. Not only laughter and love, but tears and hatred. And in the sorrow and joy, peace and war, laughter and tears, hatred and love there grew deeds of honor, of mercy, of love, of sacrifice – life given freely for the sake of another, whether friend or no, for the very love in itself of good. These dreams caused Asëariel to think, something she had not done much of before, and to consider what her role might be, or what good was she meant to achieve? She pondered her dreams and beginning to view the world around her, small and miserable as it was, she saw that her mother was indeed as the light called darkness, and as the good called evil. And she wondered what she ought to do.

So it happened that, one day, after having been once more brought back by her mother and cared for until she was again strong, when watching from her bower as Ungoliant dragged yet one more of her victims into their hollow Asëariel perceived that here, again, was another of the elven race. The elf was bound about with the thick cords her mother spun, and moved not, as certainly it slept from Ungoliant's bite. Asëariel, upon understanding this, was about to slip quickly away before she might be forced to hear the elf's agonized screams when it woke, but she did not. As never before she remained, transfixed in the silvery-stranded web she had woven herself, and gazed unwaveringly at the elf below. Her dreams then did rush upon her, all the memories as vivid as if she had just woken, and came as if they had been chosen, one by one and individually, shown to remind her of something she did not know. As if they were pieces of a message or silent plea willing her to understand them and remember a memory she had never had. This, their speed and insistent rolling as of so many crashing breakers upon the crags of the sea, pounding through her mind, troubled her greatly and she remained, thinking and pondering deeply as she looked down upon the prostrate elf.

At last, and with a bright beaming light, as of a lantern uncovered or torch new-lit under blackest night, the meaning of her dreams, apart and together, shone true into Asëariel's thought and she wondered at it, and pondered the new truth with mounting joy – and fear. Intently then did she gaze at the elf, though it moved not and Ungoliant seemed to pay it no heed, watching as if for some sign of hope or confirmation that what she had found was indeed true. But none was to be seen and instead there returned upon her, not the memories of her dreams, but those of the times she had come unawares into the cave when Ungoliant was torturing an elf, or the times when, though far away, she had not been distant enough not to hear their tortured cries. The hours she had listened afar in dread and fear to the agonized screams of those fair-folk as they slowly died under her mother's claw. The uncounted bloody and misshapen bodies she had seen as the result of Ungoliant's work. Too many times had these Fair ones, children of starlight and moonlight fallen prey to Ungoliant and died in torture under her cruel gaze. Too often had Asëariel heard their cries and pleas of mercy, though in a tongue she did not know, to Elbereth and Manwë, Nienna and Lorien – to Eru. And as all these memories, vivid and terrible, did sweep through her mind like a blinding gale of torment and pain, misery and despair at once, and for the first time in her short life Asëariel's wrath burned hot and it was as through a silver-gold flame that she watched the elf begin to move. Ungoliant too saw her prey stirring and pounced upon it to begin her dark and sweetly relished revenge, feeding her lust for the pain of the Fair Ones as much as she fed her lust for meat.

The elf had wakened! And he screamed in pain and fear as the first of Ungoliant's cruelly curved claws tore at him. “Nay!” A voice, like a bright and resounding trumpet cried in Asëariel's mind, “This should not BE!” With a mighty leap she sprang from her web, propelling so hard that the tendrils of that great mesh snapped under the strain of her strength. Asëariel landed claws first, stinger following upon the back and side of her loathsome begetter, throwing her off of her writhing victim with a great crash. The two spiders rolled, a tangle of thrashing legs and darting stingers, for a space, before colliding with a stone set in their way they broke apart from each other each scrambling to regain her feet before the other should pounce.

But Asëariel was smaller, not even one fourth of Ungoliant's size, so did she find recovery from the hard fall came to her quicker than Ungoliant whose vast bulk must need a great and mighty effort to heave it once again upon her spindly taloned legs. Without a second's worth of hesitation Asëariel attacked again this time her stinger biting hard and deep into the folded flesh of Ungoliant's side. But so thick were the layers of loathsome, putrid flesh that covered Ungoliant like so many plates of leathern armor that the young spider's sting did nothing to more than to enrage the already mad creature, as a lion when it is stung by a fly.

Turned she then, talons clutching and stinger probing, and catching hold of her daughter Ungoliant stabbed her stinger into Asëariel's side, digging deep and coursing a killing poison into her own flesh's veins. At the bite of that sting Asëariel knew that she was no more. Her limbs went limp and she curled into a lifeless ball an indescribable sense of sorrow and emptiness flowing through her as the poison flowed to end her miserable life. What had she done? Or what aid had she given? Truly, she was willing to give her life, to be a sacrifice for the sake of another as her dreams had shown her, but that other she had not freed or even aided. Truly, she had wrought more harm than good! For now would Ungoliant, in the venting of her fury, no longer seek after using the elf for food, she would have plenty of meat from her own daughter whose carcass she had made a thing. Rather would she draw out the tormenting of that fair one whom Asëariel had humiliated her in helping. Alas! Thought Asëariel and she her life slipped away What have I done?

In a sleepy, weary way Asëariel's eyes wandered towards the silken cocooned shape whom she had been trying and still wished, with a more stubborn corner of her fading mind, to aid, to help and free. The white of Ungoliant's cords which woven round the elf rendered him entirely immovable was torn open down the front and seeping through the fabric of his cage was the elf's own scarlet blood. His ragged gasps, punctuated in varying moments by sobs of pain only served to deepen the gloom that the kind-wishing spider was sinking into.

Would she not have given anything to save him? And now she lay, with more reason to be content than he, for at least her death would be virtually painless while his, and of her doing, would be far longer in agony than it otherwise would have been.

With these thoughts murmuring their miserable way through her mind Asëariel gave in to the deep darkness that sought to envelope her in its sweet blanket of forgetfulness. But just as she was slipping down a voice penetrated the slowing clamor of her mind whispering the three, simple, yet pleading words that would be the spark for her life – Please help me. At that plea Asëariel's mind and vision cleared enough so that she was able to see just ahead of her. The elf lay, his head turned slightly to her his brilliant green eyes trained one hers with a such a look of hope amidst fierce and burning pain as she had never beheld in all the confines of her dark and hopeless life. Again the words plied her thought – Please help me! And with them came images so sad and wonderful that the sole beauty and hope of them brought her rising way from the brink of death's yawning chasm.

Another elf! Nay, but five elves together dancing and singing under the bright stars. A maiden fair with flaming red hair and sparkling brown eyes and beside her a young boy, laughing and smiling with such a smile as to wake the dead for the very life of it. Behind them a tall graceful woman, silver haired whose ancient eyes and youngest face spoke of wisdom and joy in the same deep, deep starry glance. But across another woman, young in heart, mind and face brilliant of smile like the boy but with hair like the maiden's. And yet the last who stood next to this woman, his image rapidly swallowed up the others and turning from thought to reality changed expression wherewith from joyous singing to painful longing of hope settled over the face of the elf before her. And Asëariel saw that they were one.

With that vision, bright and wondrous as Asëariel had never known such joy and love to be, she surged, with the renewed vigor of living hope back to herself and the strength in hope of what she would do. Again the voice from before spoke in her mind, though it was gentler, a quiet whisper, like a living wind. “My child, save my child.” And the love in those few, simple words carried Asëariel the rest of her way back to life.

In one great heave she sprang to her feet, swaying momentarily as her body caught up with her will, and she saw with astonishment that all the thoughts and the visions that had come upon her had taken no more than the space of a few seconds. She turned and facing Ungoliant again set herself before the elf, displaying her body as a shield. The message was clear and as Asëariel watched Ungoliant's eyes she saw flickering, there in the depths of the monster's mind, something she had never seen there before. Fear. The realization was to her sharp and sudden so that she was almost not ready when, with a resounding screech Ungoliant leapt for her enemy's throat set now, in all her loathing, to slay this thing which had caused her such humiliation and pain, and even now broke the bonds of her poison. Just as Asëariel braced herself to meet her mother's onslaught the voice, murmured one more like a peaceful river through her mind, “Do not fear, I will uphold you. You are not alone, I AM here.”

To tell of that battle, between monster of darkness and child of light, while though it would make a worthy tale, is not for this place and time, save to say that Asëariel, after fending her mother, the cursed Ungoliant, off for near a quarter of the remaining daylight so that it was near evening at the time she dealt to Ungoliant such a sting in the tender flesh between the joint of the beast's head and the plate of her domed and scaled back that Ungoliant's will broke, with her consciousness, and she sank in the throes before the feet of her defeater. Asëariel had herself in the fight incurred many a wound so that the sting being near the end of her strength gave her little hope of success. But seeing the bulk of that cursed monster, her begetter though nevermore her friend, fall she thought on the peril of the elf and staggering back to consume the tangled, hanging threads of her own bare and broken web she returned and twining strongest thickset cords of restraint bound Ungoliant to the stone whereon she lay.

For a moment there Asëariel stood looking on her mother now turned captive, then banishing all thoughts of death and vengeance, no matter how just they seemed, she turned and with the last of her strength moved to where the elf lay. His eyes were clear now and keener than when before he had looked on her and she perceived that his wounds, inflicted by that merciless creature that lay now bound in her own daughter's cords, though very painful, were not deadly as long as they might be tended. So did she reach forward and with one curved, sharp claw sliced open the bloody bonds. At her touch the elf flinched for he was not yet certain if her fighting for him against the other spider was not merely such a squabbling as happened between predators of the same pack when they fought over a meal.

But his fears were put to no avail as Asëariel, with the gentleness of a doting mother, raised him ever so slowly so that his back leaned against a rock, then with one silvery-gold talon, timidly swept the long dark locks out of his face and behind one of his pointed ears. At these kind gestures of shy concern the elf laughed, both in relief and wonder for, who had ever heard of a spider concerning itself all about a previous victim? Nay, none had for until that time such tender kindness was unheard of from the predatory lurks of the great and cruel spiders.

At the sound of the elf's laughter warmth ran through Asëariel's every limb and penetrating deep brought such a feeling of long wished peace and contentment that, tired and wounded as she was, Asëariel lay down, her legs curled beneath her and looked drowsily, though happily up into the elf's blood stained and yet smiling face. Then, as her joy and contentment mounted and rolled throughout her like a tide of light she began to, as she had never before done in waking life, hum, that melody which had ever been hers. And she knew it as yet she did not know it and the elf, listening for but a moment, joined in her song, his clear and bright voice soaring like a liberated bird above the confines of that dark and dreadful place, up to mingle with the stars, where from it had come. At the joining and lifting of their two songs Asëariel sensed that it was complete. And their song flew up to even then the stars of Elbereth aided, with their beauty and majesty pure, the song of this elf far from home who sang with the spider that had found hope in a land unknown before to such love.

Slowly again did Asëariel slip away into oblivion this time knowing that what she had done she had done well. And the voice spoke, one last time before she faded into dreams, “Well done.”

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A second piece will be published tomorrow, which is a beginning rewrite and expansion of this rough-draft. The rewrite was never completed.