The Silmarils are gone. The King of the Noldor is slain. Night has fallen on Valinor since the Two Trees that illuminated the world have been destroyed. Fëanor now rallies the Noldor to war, seeking to pursue Morgoth, the one behind all this sorrow.

"O people of the Noldor," he cries, standing tall among his kin. "Why should we longer serve the Valar who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy? What have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?" His clear voice rang far, filling the hearts of the Elves with fire.

"Here once was light, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless forever, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? Or shall we return to our home, where a free people might walk? Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!"

"What sayeth thee?" Fëanor turns a piercingly bright gaze on you. His grey eyes are filled with the wrath of vengeance and command your attention.