[Nerwen]

Ulfang the Black was in truth a much maligned man. Morgoth's messengers came to him again and again, promising him great riches and the lands of the Edain if he would but serve their lord, but always he dismissed them with scorn.

"Begone!" he would cry. "Back to your dark master, and take your lies with you! My Lord Caranthir may have the temper of a rabid werewolf, and most other Elves may be arrogant sods who would thoroughly deserve their comeuppance– but what quarrel have I with the Edain, my own kin? How could I wish ill on their sweet, adorable, innocent little ones?"

It was on a friendly visit to Dor–Lómin that everything changed. Things went well at first; Morwen received Ulfang with gracious reserve, while Húrin ordered a feast in his honour. Talk, wine and laughter flowed freely.

No one paid any attention to the golden-haired toddler scowling in the corner.

Lalaith was so jealous of the welcome her father and mother were giving this stranger that even her favourite pastime of pulling the wings off flies had palled. Instead, setting her inventive mind to work, she devised a wonderful new game she provisionally titled, "Creep Up On The Nasty Man And Drop A Hot Coal Down The Back Of His Tunic".

It was a roaring success. From Lalaith's point of view, anyway.

Ulfang enlisted in the Thangorodrim Secret Service (Treachery Division) the very next day.