In the Silmarillion, the origin story of the Tolkein universe, the voices of BIPOC are not only hidden, they are actively erased. This is not stated, but it is clear, since numerous times in the later books Sauron and Orcs definitely had a written language. So every time Melkor, Balrogs, or Orcs were purged, their version of the events preceding must have been destroyed. History is, after all, written by the victors.

Gothmog was a Maia, of the people of Melkor. In the beginning, no one thought Melkor or his Maiar were evil; they simply had a different job, one primarily involving fire and darkness. But after eons had passed, the skin of Melkor and his Maiar turned black. This was nothing more then a response to a stimulus; nothing had changed in them or their actions. But when the other Valar and their Maiar saw Melkor, they thought the darkness of their skin meant he was evil. This was the first act of White Supremacy, and it colored all interactions after that point.

As the Age wore on, Melkor correctly deduced that his days were numbered, and he fled to the East. He built two strongholds; the western outpost Angband, and the eastern capital of Utumno. Most of his people lived in Utumno, but his greatest followers held Angband. Their task was clear: hold off the inevitable assault from the West long enough for Utumno to rally, then hide themselves in case everything went to ruin and Utumno fell.

Gothmog was the Captain of Angband, and when the assault did come his did his duty. Gothmog always did his duty. They put up a brief but furious defense, sending word to Utumno that the attack had begun. And once the message was acknowledged, they dug deep and hid themselves well. In the rush to Utumno, they were not discovered by the invading Valar or their Host. This act of foresight was to prove crucial in the days to come.

Melkor strove mightily, but in the end he was overcome and his capital of Utumno was destroyed. Countless Orcs died that day, but since they were Black no one cared, except for Melkor and his Balrogs. They however swore bloody vengence, for all the fathers who would never come home to their children, and the wives whose only choice was to bury their grief and go on.

After imprisonment for an Age in the Halls of Mandos, Melkor was released. He did not forget his vow; Melkor was, after all, the mightiest of the Valar in the beginning. He decided not only to escape, but also to teach the White Supremacist Valar and their allies a lesson they would never forget. He would kill the Trees, denying the Light to his enemies. And he would take the Silmarils, so his people would have the same Light as those in the West had had for so many years, but locked in an impregnable container. As long as no one took them back, his people would have the Light forever.

So he made a Pact with the spider Ungoliant; she would help him slay the Trees and take the jewels, and in return he would gift her everything but the Silmarils. The Elves claimed he promised to give from both hands; but they were not there, and thus contrived a tale that made out Melkor as they wished. This was neither the first nor the last of their gaslighting.

But Ungoliant was filled with greed and lust for the Light, so after receiving her payment she demanded Melkor's share as well. Melkor, being wise, always knew it might come to this, so as soon as he left the West he called on his Balrogs to bring him safe to Angband. Gothmog, with the mightiest of his bretheren, came at once; and when Ungoliant revealed her treachery they struck her with chains of fire and iron. Spiders have no defenses against any such, so she spewed her inky venom and made her escape.

In triumph, the Balrogs brought Melkor home to Angband. Gothmog rode at Melkor's side, and little less was the love of their people for him than for the long lost Lord of Darkness. When Melkor reached the Gates of Angband, he turned and gave a rousing speech. He declared that henceforth his people would be known for both light and darkness, and all the shades of shadow that lie between. They would develop magic and technology that would change the world, and it was all thanks to the Silmarils, which he had brought as reparations to those whose fathers were killed in that terrible act of genocide so many years before.

Unfortunately Melkor, as a rational entity, assumed that everyone else would behave rationally as well. It has been written that Melkor slew Finwe at the gates of his House, and stole the Silmarils. What happened rather was that wise and empathetic Finwe chose to give them freely, acknowledging the hurt caused to Melkor and his people, knowing that this act would bring the Orcs out of Darkness.

But as Melkor left, Finwe quickly grew despondent. He knew his brilliant beautiful son Feanor, and when Feanor discovered his father's actions, he would label them as treachery. Finwe realized that Feanor would likely kill him on sight, such was the rage that burned within. The one lesson Feanor never learned was compassion. So the hand that slew Finwe was his own.

Feanor might have discovered this, but on seeing his father's body he was overcome with grief. And then rage. He swore his Vow, as did his sons. And then went on a psychopathic rampage across two continents, killing the Teleri for the temerity of denying him their ships, and leaving Fingolfin's people to die in the ice. Even the Voice of Manwe did nothing to slake his taste for vengence; if anything it hardened his heart.

When Melkor first saw the rise of the Moon and the Sun, he was perplexed but not concerned. He could easily cast mists to block the harsh effects of the Sun, and if anything they made his job of raising up his people easier not harder. But since Finwe had given the jewels willingly, he never expected the Noldor to attack. He certainly would have done so had he killed Finwe.

So when Melkor learned of the landing of Feanor on the shores of Middle Earth, his confusion turned to indignation. Did Feanor not honor his father above all others? How could he negate his father's grand gesture with such an affront? And why travel so far ahead of his army? It simply make no sense, not on any level.

Regardless, with an insane Elf hellbent on vengence, he chose to take no chances. He again called on his most trusted Captain, Gothmog. Go forth, he said, and teach this arrogant Elf some manners, but return home before their vast army encircles you. Gothmog did his duty. Gothmog always did his duty.

So he hit the vanguard of the Noldor with all his might, with the chains of iron and fire that had served so well against Ungoliant. He slew Feanor's guard, beat Feanor severely, then left him well on this side of death before retreating in the face of the superior numbers of the Noldor. His retreat was focused but not hurried. After all, Feanor would live, and perhaps learn the lesson of his pride.

Feanor of course learned no such thing. He waited for his sons to arrive, reminded them of their oath, then used his vast power to leave his body and travel to the Halls of Mandos. There he waited with glee for the arrival of Melkor, knowing his sons would fail him not. He would wait for some time before doubts began to emerge. But by then it was too late, far too late; for him, his sons, indeed for all the Peoples of an Age of Arda, gone long before.

Gothmog rode triumphant amidst the towers of Thangorodriun to the Gates of Angband. There Melkor greeted him as their savior, not for the first time in as many days. They simply could not conceive of an act as thoughtlessly selfish as Feanor's. But when it was reported, a silence fell over the assembly. They knew there were grim days ahead.

Then Gothmog went home to face his wife, and tell her that triumph had turned to ashes. The Elves did not record the name of Gothmog's wife, but she was a Maia of Melkor as was he, and little if any less in strength. Her words though, they do remember. "Did you come home to me husband, and did you save our Lord? Then nothing you did was in vain, and the vanity of Elves shall never make it so."

Gothmog smiled, and his grip grew vicious. His wife knew what this meant, and she smiled as well. Gothmog then did his husband's duty, and not as an Elf might, but as a lesser god of fire and darkness. Gothmog always did his duty.