Time is a tapestry, eternally weaving itself through the darkness of reality. Ages come and pass. Peace is broken, wars break out; people are born and people die. It has been so since Ilúvatar's angelic choir sang the World into being in the vast emptiness.

The choir walked the Earth, sometimes unclad and invisible, and sometimes in great and beautiful shapes, raising the mountains and hollowing the oceans. The stars were set in the sky, and the flowers were taught to grow, and eventually the Sun and the Moon were wrought and began their cycle.

From the first raindrop to the first bloom, all was designed by the most powerful of Ilúvatar's choir – the Valar; seven Kings and seven Queens, the High Ones of the World. Among these were the Exalted, the eight most powerful of their number, including the High King Manwë and his queen, Varda.

But within the walls of the Halls of Mandos, home of the spirits of the dead on the western coast of the Blessed Realm, facing out towards the endless sea, sat Vairë. Solemn and sober, she sat in her splendid chamber with her delicate hands on her loom, weaving.

Vairë, wife of Námo, Lord of the Dead, spent each of her days weaving the tales of the World in her storied webs. All along the halls and corridors, the marble walls were lined with her tapestries, depicting the great histories of the Earth. In the first chamber, the trail of fabrics, woven in ages long past by Vairë's hand, began, with the depiction of the creation of the Ainur from the mind of Ilúvatar.

The story went on. The rebellion of the excommunicated King of the Valar Melkor, who was later named Morgoth, the Dark Lord. How he corrupted the Theme that created the World, and how he waged war against his peers, breeding fell beasts and creatures of the night. How he took young Elves and tortured them, creating the Ork race, vile and bloodthirsty, with slanted eyes and black skin and fanged jaws.

But other tapestries showed more ferocious servants. Members of his own order Morgoth had swayed to his cause of domination, possessing the bodies of great wolves and giant bats. But the most fearsome of all were not woven nearly to the detail that the others were.

They were tall, far taller than the Children of Ilúvatar, and made of shadow, and shrouded in fire, wielding flaming weapons and whips with powerful arms. They were the Demons of Might, named the Valaraucar in Quenya, but otherwise known as the Balrogs.

Vairë had spent weeks on end on each of her creations. Of such beauty and finesse were they that the dead, some weeping for their departure from the World, smiled to look upon them. But the Balrogs had taken her but days to weave, for among the servants of Morgoth, they most filled the Weaver's pure heart with terror. In the centre stood their first lord, who had fought shoulder-to-shoulder with Morgoth's lieutenant, Sauron, Lord of Werewolves. He was named Kosomot, and it was said that even Sauron had feared him, and was ever jealous of his power.

Following Morgoth's first capture, his forces scattered to await his return, hiding in the dark places of the World and in the haunted forests of the North. What became of the Werewolves and the Vampires after Morgoth's final defeat, none know, but many of the Balrogs had fallen into a long slumber, longing to be awoken.

Sauron eventually fell, and his forces scattered. But he had not reawoken the Balrogs. The Wise had long feared that Sauron would locate the Demons of Might and recruit them in his services. But Sauron never did so. The Lady Galadriel believed that the second Dark Lord feared them too much to return them.

And, so, Kosomot's location went unknown to the Free Peoples of the West, who had long since forgotten about him and his vast power. He remained in a long slumber, which was soon to be disturbed.

Vairë sat in her small throne, weaving.