My death was rather unfortunate, albeit rather heroic. You see, it all started when my son, Fëanor (who I'm sure you all know) created these three glorious jewels known as the Silmarils. All creatures admired them, except for Morgoth, that dastardly piece of rat-scum. He coveted them, and even though they were hallowed by Varda, immensely desired to have them. Oh did I mention, he hated the Valar and all the "good" Ainur. So what this bloke does is he gets chummy with this rather large spider bint named Ungoliant and gets her to suck the Two Trees of Valinor clean of all their sap. They died, and in the resulting darkness, he dashed over to Formenos, where I was at, and proceeded to try and bash his way in. Did I mention that my son was gone? Even though we'd had a big of a falling-out with all those nancing Vanyar, he decided to go anyway. So, this Morgoth chap shows up with a dashed big mace and proceeds to bash his way into the treasury. I, like a good High King of the Noldor (even though I'd officially resigned my title by then), tried to stop him, but I got my skull bashed in by that huge mace, and that is the end of that.
As to how I got here, well, that is quite simple. While I was in the Halls of Mandos, I got a bit of a promotion. No one knows this, but specially privileged people get computer access. While I was surfing the Net for websites about moi, I chanced upon this site and what do you know, I was hooked.
The rest of the story is known to all.
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But Melkor also was there, and he came to the house of Fëanor, and there he slew Finwë King of the Noldor before his doors, and spilled the first blood in the Blessed Realm; for Finwë alone had not fled from the horror of the Dark.
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