The Elves had a tale, that dated all the way back to the Second Age in the Ancient Kingdom of Eregion. It was a Yuletide tale, a story told around the burning hearths of homes to energetic elflings to get them to behave, at least for the holidays.

On the night of the Winter Solstice, a being would prowl the streets, observing the sleeping elves in their homes. He would judge their Faë, determining if they were worthy of his Gifts that year, for he was the Lord of Gifts, the Bringer of Knowledge, he was Annatar. His craft was heavily sought after, for he was rumored to be one of the Maiar of the Vala Aulë, the Great Smith.

Those whom he deemed worthy, would receive small silver smithed works, mainly small trinkets such as thin bracelets wrot in silver with small colored gems embedded into them or even small metal toy figures for the children to play with. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every tiny piece was crafted with incredible details, flawlessly put together, greater than even the skilled silversmiths of Gwaith-i- Mírdain of Eregion. Those who were worthy enough to receive a token from Annantar would be greatly blessed in the coming year, their harvest would be bountiful, they would find love that year, their crafting skill (especially if they were a silversmith) would greatly improve. The way to gain his favor was to always behave, act selflessly and bravely, be prideful of one's work but still be humble, and being a silversmith never hurt. To lose his favor, all one had to do was betray, cheat, or lie to another, for Annatar abhorred those who were unfaithful.

Those unfortunate ones were never seen again. The witnesses would claim that a dark Shadow would slither down the chimney, the flames in the hearth immediately being snuffed out. All would be frozen with fear as a freezing cold would settle upon the entire house, the Shadow would creep through the house, til it located it's unworthy victim. The unworthy would then awaken and follow the Shadow willingly out of the house, past their worried family members whom would too fearful to stop them even if they were able to physically move. The pair would leave through the exit nearest to the nearby woods to the northeast into Morn Orod, the Dark Mountains of Mirkwood, be it by door, window, or the chimney. The next day, the family would search for them, but there was never any sign of them, no footprints near the exit, no body that turned up later in the woods, it was as if they had disappeared into thin air.

And so it came to pass, that every Yule the elves would gather around their warm hearths as snow fluttered down outside their windows, singing their songs to the Valar, and warning their elflings and the younger elves to behave, otherwise they would be taken by Gurthraug o Durufuin, the Death Demon of Yule.