As soon as Mairon is in his arms, the shadow of his raiment enfolds them both. In a flicker, they are outside, somewhere in the low-rolling, scrubland hills in the area beyond the castle itself, which is just a distant smear of darkness-and-lights in the middle distance. The stars are bright beyond thin cloudcover, the mountains great looming shapes which crown almost every horizon.

"I remember every stone." Sweat filmed his brow, his head ached. Had this ever been easy? Grimacing, he shook his head, reaching inward for the well of his power. Surely, there was more. Surely.

"Diving into memory...was... the only thing that gave me peace, in the Void. I remember every stone. How the great columns of obsidian would gleam like gold when you were in your power."

He walked to clear his head, the thin, gravely soil crunching underfoot, the tall, autumn-deadened grass brushing his legs in hushed, whispered sounds.

"In the Endless Dark, there is nothing. Not even yourself, if you do not cling tightly enough. Remembering and remembering and re-living every moment so perfectly you cannot forget it, unceasingly... for the Void will devour it otherwise. Passionlessly, with neither care nor consequence." Like the grass, Melkor spoke in a whisper, as if he were confiding a secret.

"Angband, I remember."