In the days that followed, I remained still, at least on the surface.
Yet beneath the crust of my body, rivers of molten heat churned restlessly, pulsing with anticipation. Deep within my core, the heartbeat of life the strange second heart that animated this vast form throbbed steadily, eager for what was to come.
I sensed Arda around me with an awareness that no human body could fathom. The roots of the mountains, the hidden veins of iron and gold deep within the earth, the distant murmur of waterfalls cascading into young oceans all of these threads of existence vibrated against me, like a thousand harp strings waiting, yearning to be plucked.
The Valar had granted me leave to exist, to grow, to find my place in this world.
But not all were content to let me be.
The first dream came as a whisper soft and almost unnoticed sliding into the edges of my mind as I floated half-awake beneath the stars. Initially, it was nothing more than a murmur, a wordless lullaby carried on a phantom wind. Yet as the nights unfurled, it sharpened, increasingly vivid.
"Alone," it breathed. "Alone… abandoned…"
Visions flickered behind my heavy eyelids: vast, empty landscapes, untouched by any living hand, hinting at endless wandering and isolation. A profound sadness crept into my heart an emotion as boundless and formless as the mountains themselves. Here, I had no kin, no kindred spirits. Even the Valar, who recognized my existence, kept their distance, wary of the power I might hold.
"You are not theirs," the voice whispered. "You are your own."
I stirred uneasily, clouds of ash rising from my hide as unrest coursed through me. Somewhere below, a herd of titanic beasts sensed my turmoil and fled in panic.
Yet a part of me listened, a part of me that grasped the truth of my existence.
I had been thrust into this world without a clear purpose or direction, a stranger in a song yet to be sung. What harm could there be in seeking my own destiny?
As the nights passed, the whisper grew bolder.
"They fear you," it crooned with sweet seduction. "They would chain you, bind you, contain you. But with me… you could be more. You could be king of this world of stone and fire a mountain that moves. A god among gods."
It was tempting, yet fraught with danger.
And I knew whose voice lingered in the shadows, though he never spoke his name.
Melkor.
Once the greatest of the Ainur, second only to Eru himself now the instigator of discord and ruin.
He viewed me as a tool, a weapon to unleash when the time was ripe.
But as his voice twisted through my thoughts, planting seeds of doubt, I held fast.
I recalled Yavanna's gentle hand, light as a breeze, pressing against my shell.
Grow slowly. Shape the land. Do not destroy.
Those words became my anchor, a guiding light illuminating the way forward.
I would not be Melkor's pawn, nor would I remain a prisoner of the Valar. I would carve my own path, a future unfurling before me.
And so, one morning as the young sun rose golden over the horizon, I felt the unmistakable urge to move.
For the first time since awakening, I stirred in full.
The land groaned beneath my titanic weight as I heaved myself free of the shallow valley that had cradled me for too long. Great sheets of rock sloughed from my sides, tumbling into the mountains below in avalanches.
My stride began to reshape the world.
Where I walked, the ground split open, forming deep ravines that sparkled with veins of newly exposed ore. Hills buckled and rose into low mountains behind me, unable to resist the change wrought by my passing.
I crossed a river, which could not withstand my presence; it bent around my feet, carving new channels that would one day become grand canyons. Fish scattered like silver rain, thrown into the air by the sudden upheaval of the earth.
Each step was measured not in feet or yards, but in miles.
As I traversed distances that would take a human weeks to cover, my journey reshaped the land, leaving enduring marks upon it, foretelling my impact.
The world felt my movements.
Far across the seas in Valinor, the Valar surely sensed it a tremor in the Music, the slow, heavy chords of a new verse being written, one that would unfold without their guidance.
Even the Maiar, those lesser spirits who served the Valar, began to murmur of the "Walking Mountain," the "Behemoth of Fire."
And Melkor watched.
In the hidden depths of the earth, he bided his time, weaving new dreams, setting traps for the future.
I felt his gaze, like a dark sun on my back, heavy and oppressive.
Yet I pressed onward, forging my own destiny.
I climbed ancient ranges destined to be known as the Misty Mountains, although they remained raw and jagged, still claiming their rightful place in the sky.
I crossed forests that would eventually be cut and tamed by Men, but for now, they remained endless, primal oceans of green.
I drank from rivers whose waters carried the taste of the first rain, and all the while, I learned.
I learned the slow patience of the mountains, the fierce joy of the rivers, the deep sorrow of forests that would one day meet their fate.
In time, I found a place to rest a tranquil basin cradled among cliffs, sheltered from the winds, with molten streams bubbling in anticipation of what I would soon create.
There, I lay down once more, and the land sighed with relief as my vast weight settled into the earth.
Above me, the stars burned cold and brilliant.The Song of the World played on, and in the far north, Melkor smiled to himself in the shadows.
The game had begun