Azazales stood watching his old apprentice.
Strange, he thought.
Montross says, listen to the sad tale that is come cry:
'Therefore Morgoth came, climbing slowly from his subterranean throne, and the rumour of his feet was like thunder underground. And he issued forth clad in black armour; and he stood before the king like a tower, iron-crowned and his vast shield, sable unblazoned, cast a shadow over him like a storm cloud. But Fingolfin gleamed beneath it like a star;for his mail was overlaid with silver, and his blue shield was set with crystals; and he drew his sword Ringil, and it glittered like ice, cold and gray and deadly.'
-The Lost Road and Other Writings book II