"Manwë, Mandos, Tulkas..." He lists the names of some of his least favorite Valar. "I am going to kill them. Just they wait." Melkor grumbles under his breath, scrubbing the floor with a rag. Power truly was a double-edged sword. The concept of entropy, which he had a part in creating, meant dust could gather on the pristine surfaces of Valinor, something he is currently tasked with removing.

For three ages Melkor was imprisoned in a vault in the halls of Mandos by the chain Angainor. Now for four ages he must dwell as a servant in the house of Tulkas, and obey him in requital of his ancient malice.

Melkor's black hair falls into his face as he does the latest menial task assigned to him by the golden Vala of Strength. "Perfect." He groans when you arrive. He slams the rag into the bucket. Some water splashes out. "Step right up and gawk at the Dark Lord.”