The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1 Page 11

  Now was it twelve hours since Lindeloksë had first sprouted, and at that hour did a glint of silver pierce the yellow blaze, and behold the Valar saw a shoot arise in that place whereto the pools of Silindrin had been poured. It had a bark of tender white that gleamed like pearls and it grew even as swiftly as had Laurelin, and as it grew the glory of Laurelin abated and its blossom shone less, till that tree glowed only gently as in sleep: but, behold, the other waxed now to a stature even as lofty as Laurelin, and its stock was yet more shapely and more slender, and its rind like silk, but its boughs above were thicker and more tangled and its twigs denser, and they put forth masses of bluish green leaves like spearheads.

  Then did the Valar stare in wonder, but Palúrien said: “Not yet has this tree ceased its growing”, and behold as she spake it blossomed, and its blossoms did not hang in clusters but were like separate flowers growing each on fine stems that swung together, and were as silver and pearls and glittering stars and burnt with a white light; and it seemed as if the tree’s heart throbbed, and its radiance wavered thereto waxing and waning. Light like liquid silver distilled from its bole and dripped to earth, and it shed a very great illumination about the plain, yet was that not as wide as the light of the tree of gold, and by reason also of its great leaves and of the throb of its inward life it cast a continual flutter of shadows among the pools of its brightness, very clear and black; whereat Lórien could not contain his joy, and even Mandos smiled. But Lórien said: “Lo! I will give this tree a name and call it Silpion”, and that has ever been its name since. Then Palúrien arose and said to the Gods: “Gather ye now all the light that drips in liquid shape from this fair tree and store it in Silindrin, and let it fare thence but very sparingly. Behold, this tree, when the twelve hours of its fullest light are past, will wane again, and thereat will Laurelin blaze forth once more; but that it may not be exhausted water it ever gently from the cauldron of Kulullin at the hour when Silpion grows dim, but to Silpion do ye in the same manner, pouring back the gathered light from deep Silindrin at every waning of the tree of gold. Light is the sap of these trees and their sap is light!”

  And in these words did she signify that albeit these trees must needs be watered with light to have sap and live, yet of their growth and being did they ever make light in great abundance still over and beyond that which their roots sucked in; but the Gods hearkened to her bidding, and Vána caused one of her own maidens, even Urwen, to care ever for this task of watering Laurelin, while Lórien bade Silmo, a youth he loved, to be ever mindful of the refreshing of Silpion. Wherefore is it said that at either watering of the trees there was a wondrous gloaming of gold and silver and mingled lights great beauty ere one tree quite faded or the other came to its full glory.

  Now because of the bright trees had Aulë light in plenty for his works, and he set about many tasks, and Tulkas aided him much, and Palúrien mother of magic was at his side. First upon Taniquetil was a great abode raised up for Manwë and a watchtower set. Thence did he speed his darting hawks and receive them on his return, and thither fared often in later days Sorontur King of Eagles whom Manwë gave much might and wisdom.

  That house was builded of marbles white and blue and stood amid the fields of snow, and its roofs were made of a web of that blue air called ilwë that is above the white and grey. This web did Aulë and his wife contrive, but Varda spangled it with stars, and Manwë dwelt thereunder; but in the plain in the full radiance of the trees was a cluster of dwellings built like a fair and smiling town, and that town was named Valmar. No metal and no stone, nor any wood of mighty trees was spared to their raising. Their roofs were of gold and their floors silver and their doors of polished bronze; they were lifted with spells and their stones were bound with magic. Separate from these and bordering upon the open vale was a great court, and this was Aulë’s house, and it was filled with magic webs woven of the light of Laurelin and the sheen of Silpion and the glint of stars; but others there were made of threads of gold and silver and iron and bronze beaten to the thinness of a spider’s filament, and all were woven with beauty to stories of the musics of the Ainur, picturing those things that were and shall be, or such as have only been in the glory of the mind of Ilúvatar.

  In this court were some of all the trees that after grew upon the earth, and a pool of blue water lay among them. There fruits fell throughout the day, thudding richly to the earth upon the grass of its margin, and were gathered by Palúrien’s maids for her feasting and her lord’s.

  Ossë too had a great house, and dwelt therein whenso a conclave of the Valar was held or did he grow weary of the noise of the waves upon his seas. Ónen and the Oarni brought thousands of pearls for its building, and its floors were of sea-water, and its tapestries like the glint of the silver skins of fishes, and it was roofed with foam. Ulmo dwelt not in Valmar and fared back after its building to the Outer Seas, and did he have need ever of sojourn in Valinor he would go as guest to the halls of Manwë—but this was not often. Lórien too dwelt far away, and his hall was great and dimly lit and had wide gardens. The place of his dwelling he called Murmuran, which Aulë made of mists gathered beyond Arvalin upon the Shadowy Seas. ’Twas set in the South by the feet of the Mountains of Valinor upon the confines of the realm, but its gardens wandered marvellously about, winding nigh to the feet of Silpion whose shining lit them strangely. They were full of labyrinths and mazes, for Palúrien had given Lórien great wealth of yewtrees and cedars, and of pines that exuded drowsy odours in the dusk; and these hung over deep pools. Glowworms crept about their borders and Varda had set stars within their depths for the pleasure of Lórien, but his sprites sang wonderfully in these gardens and the scent of nightflowers and the songs of sleepy nightingales filled them with great loveliness. There too grew the poppies glowing redly in the dusk, and those the Gods called fumellar the flowers of sleep—and Lórien used them much in his enchantments. Amidmost of those pleasances was set within a ring of shadowy cypress towering high that deep vat Silindrin. There it lay in a bed of pearls, and its surface unbroken was shot with silver flickerings, and the shadows of the trees lay on it, and the Mountains of Valinor could see their faces mirrored there. Lórien gazing upon it saw many visions of mystery pass across its face, and that he suffered never to be stirred from its sleep save when Silmo came noiselessly with a silver urn to draw a draught of its shimmering cools, and fared softly thence to water the roots of Silpion ere the tree of gold grew hot.

  Otherwise was the mind of Tulkas, and he dwelt amidmost of Valmar. Most youthful is he and strong of limb and lusty, and for that is he named Poldórëa who loveth games and twanging of bows and boxing, wrestling, running, and leaping, and songs that go with a swing and a toss of a well-filled cup. Nonetheless is he no wrangler or striker of blows unprovoked as is Makar, albeit there are none of Valar or Úvanimor (who are monsters, giants, and ogres) that do not fear the sinews of his arm and the buffet of his iron-clad fist, when he has cause for wrath. His was a house of mirth and revelry; and it sprang high into the air with many storeys, and had a tower of bronze and pillars of copper in a wide arcade. In its court men played and rivalled one another in doughty feats, and there at times would that fair maiden Nessa wife of Tulkas bear goblets of the goodliest wine and cooling drinks among the players. But most she loved to retire unto a place of fair lawns whose turf Oromë her brother had culled from the richest of all his forest glades, and Palúrien had planted it with spells that it was always green and smooth. There danced she among her maidens as long as Laurelin was in bloom, for is she not greater in the dance than Vána herself?

  In Valmar too dwelt Noldorin known long ago as Salmar, playing now upon his harps and lyres, now sitting beneath Laurelin and raising sweet music with an instrument of the bow. There sang Amillo joyously to his playing, Amillo who is named Ómar, whose voice is the best of all voices, who knoweth all songs in all speeches; but whiles if he sang not to his brother’s harp then would he be trilling in the gardens of Oromë when a
fter a time Nielíqui, little maiden, danced about its woods.

  Now Oromë had a vast domain and it was beloved by him, and no less by Palúrien his mother. Behold, the groves of trees they planted upon the plain of Valinor and even upon the foothills of the mountains have no compare on Earth. Beasts revelled there, deer among the trees, and herds of kine among its spaces and wide grass-lands; bison there were, and horses roaming unharnessed, but these strayed never into the gardens of the Gods, yet were they in peace and had no fear, for beasts of prey dwelt not among them, nor did Oromë fare to hunting in Valinor. Much indeed as he loves those realms yet is he very often in the world without; more often even than Ossë and as often as Palúrien, and then does he become the greatest of all huntsmen. But in Valmar his halls are wide and low, and skins and fells of great richness and price are strewn there without end upon the floor or hung upon the walls, and spears and bows and knives thereto. In the midst of each room and hall a living tree grows and holds up the roof, and its bole is hung with trophies and with antlers. Here is all Oromë’s folk in green and brown and there is a noise of boisterous mirth, and the lord of forests makes lusty cheer; but Vána his wife so often as she may steals thence. Far away from the echoing courts of that house lie her gardens, fenced stoutly from the wilder lands with whitethorn of great size that blossoms like everlasting snow. Its innermost solitude is walled with roses, and this is the place best beloved of that fair lady of the Spring. Amidmost of this place of odorous air did Aulë set long ago that cauldron, gold Kulullin, filled ever with the radiance of Laurelin like shining water, and thereof he contrived a fountain so that all the garden was full of the health and happiness of its pure light. Birds sang there all the year with the full throat of spring, and flowers grew in a riot of blossom and of glorious life. Yet was none ever of that splendour spilled from the vat of gold save when Vána’s maidens led by Urwen left that garden at the waxing of Silpion to water the roots of the tree of flame; but by the fountain it was always light with the amber light of day, as bees made busy about the roses, and there trod Vána lissomly while larks sang above her golden head.

  So fair were these abodes and so great the brilliance of the trees of Valinor that Vefántur and Fui his wife of tears might not endure to stay there long, but fared away far to the northward of those regions, where beneath the roots of the most cold and northerly of the Mountains of Valinor, that rise here again almost to their height nigh Arvalin, they begged Aulë to delve them a hall. Wherefore, that all the Gods might be housed to their liking, he did so, and they and all their shadowy folk aided him. Very vast were those caverns that they made stretching even down under the Shadowy Seas, and they are full of gloom and filled with echoes, and all that deep abode is known to Gods and Elves as Mandos. There in a sable hall sat Vefántur, and he called that hall with his own name Vê. It was lit only with a single vessel placed in the centre, wherein there lay some gleaming drops of the pale dew of Silpion: it was draped with dark vapours and its floors and columns were of jet. Thither in after days fared the Elves of all the clans who were by illhap slain with weapons or did die of grief for those that were slain—and only so might the Eldar die, and then it was only for a while. There Mandos spake their doom, and there they waited in the darkness, dreaming of their past deeds, until such time as he appointed when they might again be born into their children, and go forth to laugh and sing again. To Vê Fui came not much, for she laboured rather at the distilling of salt humours whereof are tears, and black clouds she wove and floated up that they were caught in the winds and went about the world, and their lightless webs settled ever and anon upon those that dwelt therein. Now these tissues were despairs and hopeless mourning, sorrows and blind grief. The hall that she loved best was one yet wider and more dark than Vê, and she too named it with her own name, calling it Fui. Therein before her black chair burnt a brazier with a single flickering coal, and the roof was of bats’ wings, and the pillars that upheld it and the walls about were made of basalt. Thither came the sons of Men to hear their doom, and thither are they brought by all the multitude of ills that Melko’s evil music set within the world. Slaughters and fires, hungers and mishaps, diseases and blows dealt in the dark, cruelty and bitter cold and anguish and their own folly bring them here; and Fui reads their hearts. Some then she keeps in Mandos beneath the mountains and some she drives forth beyond the hills and Melko seizes them and bears them to Angamandi, or the Hells of Iron, where they have evil days. Some too, and these are the many, she sends aboard the black ship Mornië, who lieth ever and anon in a dark harbour of the North awaiting those times when the sad pomp winds to the beach down slow rugged paths from Mandos.

  Then, when she is laden, of her own accord she spreads her sable sails and before a slow wind coasts down those shores. Then do all aboard as they come South cast looks of utter longing and regret to that low place amid the hills where Valinor may just be glimpsed upon the far off plain; and that opening is nigh Taniquetil where is the strand of Eldamar. No more do they ever see of that bright place, but borne away dwell after on the wide plains of Arvalin. There do they wander in the dusk, camping as they may, yet are they not utterly without song, and they can see the stars, and wait in patience till the Great End come.

  Few are they and happy indeed for whom at a season doth Nornorë the herald of the Gods set out. Then ride they with him in chariots or upon good horses down into the vale of Valinor and feast in the halls of Valmar, dwelling in the houses of the Gods until the Great End come. Far away are they from the black mountains of the North or the misty plains of Arvalin, and music and fair light is theirs, and joy.

  And lo! Now have I recounted the manner of the dwellings of all the great Gods which Aulë of his craftsmanship raised in Valinor, but Makar and his fierce sister Meássë built them a dwelling of themselves, aided only by their own folk, and a grim hall it was.

  Upon the confines of the Outer Lands did it stand, nor was it very far from Mandos. Of iron was it made, and unadorned. There fought the vassals of Makar clad in armour, and a clash there was and a shouting and a braying of trumps, but Meássë fared among the warriors and egged them to more blows, or revived the fainting with strong wine that they might battle still; and her arms were reddened to the elbow dabbling in that welter. None of the Gods fared ever there, save Tulkas, and did they seek to visit Mandos they went thither by circuitous paths to avoid passing nigh to that clamorous hall; but Tulkas would at times wrestle there with Makar or deal sledge-blows among the fighters, and this he did that he might not grow soft in his fair living, for he loved not that company nor in sooth did they love him and his great unangered strength. Now the battle of the courts of Makar was waged unceasingly save when men gathered in the halls for feasting, or at those times when Makar and Meássë were far abroad hunting together in the black mountains wolves and bears. But that house was full of weapons of battle in great array, and shields of great size and brightness of polish were on the walls. It was lit with torches, and fierce songs of victory, of sack and harrying, were there sung, and the torches’ red light was reflected in the blades of naked swords. There sit often Makar and his sister listening to the songs, and Makar has a huge bill across his knees and Meássë holds a spear. But in those days ere the closing of Valinor did these twain fare mostly about the Earth and were often far from the land, for they loved the unbridled turmoils which Melko roused throughout the world.

  Therefore is Valinor now built, and there is great peace there, and the Gods in joy, for those quarrelsome spirits dwell not much among them, and Melko comes not nigh.’

  Then said a child among the company, a great drinker-in of both tales and poesies: ‘And would that he had never come there since, and would that I might have seen that land still gleaming new as Aulë left it.’ Now she had heard Rúmil tell his tale before and was much in thought of it, but to the most of the company it was new, even as it was to Eriol, and they sat amazed. Then said Eriol: ‘Very mighty and glorious are the Valar, and I
would fain hear yet more of those oldest days, did I not see the glimmer of the Candles of Sleep that fare now hither’ but another child spoke from a cushion nigh Lindo’s chair and said: ‘Nay, ’tis in the halls of Makar I would fain be, and get perchance a sword or knife to wear; yet in Valmar methinks ’twould be good to be a guest of Oromë’, and Lindo laughing said: ’Twould be good indeed,’ and thereat he arose, and the tale-telling was over for that night.

  NOTES

  Changes made to names in

  The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor

  Ónen < ówen (at the first occurrence only; subsequently Ónen is the name as first written).

  Eruman and Arvalin The names of this region were originally written Habbanan and Harmalin, but were emended throughout the tale (except in two cases where Habbanan was overlooked) to Eruman (once Erumáni, p. 70) and Arvalin. (In the last three occurrences Habbanan > Arvalin, whereas in the earlier ones Habbanan > Eruman; but the difference is presumably without significance, since the names Habbanan / Harmalin and later Eruman / Arvalin were interchangeable.) In The Cottage of Lost Play the changes were Harwalin > Harmalin > Arvalin (p. 22).

  Lomendánar < Lome Danar.

  Silindrin < Telimpë (Silindrin) (at the first occurrence only; subsequently Silindrin is the name as first written).

  Lindeloksë < Lindelótë (cf. p. 22).

  Commentary on

  The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor

  The abundant instruction provided by Rúmil on this occasion is best discussed in sections, and I begin with:

  (i) The Coming of the Valar and their encounter with Melko (pp. 65–7)

  The description of the entry of the Valar into the world was not retained, though the account of them in this passage is the ultimate origin of that in the Valaquenta (The Silmarillion pp. 25–9): not, however, by continuous manuscript progression. The passage is of much interest, for here appear all at once many figures of the mythology who were to endure, beside others who were not. It is remarkable how many of the names of the Valar in the earliest writings were never afterwards displaced or reshaped: Yavanna, Tulkas, Lórien, Nienna, Oromë, Aldaron, Vána, Nessa, first appearing in this tale, and Manwë, Súlimo, Varda, Ulmo, Aulë, Mandos, Ossë, Salmar, who have appeared previously. Some were retained in a modified form: Melkor for Melko, Uinen (which appears already later in the Lost Tales) for Ónen, Fëanturi for Fánturi; while yet others, as Yavanna Palúrien and Tulkas Poldórëa, survived long in the ‘Silmarillion’ tradition before being displaced by Kementári (but cf. Kémi ‘Earth-lady’ in this tale) and Astaldo. But some of these early Valar had disappeared by the next stage or phase after the Lost Tales: Ómar-Amillo, and the barbaric war-gods Makar and Meássë.