The Book of Lost Tales, Part One Page 8

  I Teleri .. .. .. .. Vanyar

  (including Inwir)

  II Noldoli .. .. .. .. Noldor

  (Gnomes)

  III Solosimpi .. .. .. .. Teleri

  In this link-passage Rümil seems to say that the ‘Eldar’ are distinct from the ‘Gnomes’—‘akin nonetheless be assuredly Gnome-speech and Elfin of the Eldar’ and ‘Eldar’ and ‘Noldoli’ are opposed in the prose preamble to Kortirion among the Trees (p. 25). Elsewhere ‘Elfin’, as a language, is used in opposition to ‘Gnomish’, and ‘Eldar’ is used of a word of form in contradistinction to ‘Gnomish’. It is in fact made quite explicit in the Lost Tales that the Gnomes were themselves Eldar—for instance, ‘the Noldoli, who were the sages of the Eldar’ (p. 8); but on the other hand we read that after the Flight of the Noldoli from Valinor Aulë ‘gave still his love to those few faithful Gnomes who remained still about his halls, yet did he name them thereafter “Eldar”’ (p. 176). This is not so purely contradictory as appears at first sight. It seems that (on the one hand) the opposition of ‘Eldar’ or ‘Elfin’ to ‘Gnomish’ arose because Gnomish had become a language apart; and while the Gnomes were certainly themselves Eldar, their language was not. But (on the other hand) the Gnomes had long ago left Kôr, and thus came to be seen as not ‘Koreldar’, and therefore not ‘Eldar’. The word Eldar had thus narrowed its meaning, but might at any moment be expanded again to the older sense in which the Noldoli were ‘Eldar’.

  If this is so, the narrowed sense of Eldar reflects the situation in after days in Tol Eressëa; and indeed, in the tales that follow, where the narrative is concerned with the time before the rebellion of the Noldoli and their departure from Valinor, they are firmly ‘Eldar’. After the rebellion, in the passage cited above, Aulë would not call the Noldoli who remained in Valinor by that name—and, by implication, he would not call those who had departed ‘Eldar’.

  The same ambiguity is present in the words Elves and Elfin. Rúmil here calls the language of the Eldar ‘Elfin’ in opposition to ‘Gnomish’ the teller of the Tale of Tinúviel says: ‘This is my tale, and ’tis a tale of the Gnomes, wherefore I beg that thou fill not Eriol’s ear with thy Elfin names’, and in the same passage ‘Elves’ are specifically opposed to ‘Gnomes’. But, again, in the tales that follow in this book, Elves and Eldar and Eldalië are used interchangeably of the Three Kindreds (see for instance the account of the debate of the Valar concerning the summoning of the Elves to Valinor, pp. 116–18). And finally, an apparently similar variation is seen in the word ‘fairy’ thus Tol Eressëa is the name ‘in the fairy speech’, while ‘the Gnomes call it Dor Faidwen’ (p. 13), but on the other hand Gilfanon, a Gnome, is called ‘one of the oldest of the fairies’ (p. 175).

  It will be seen from Rúmil’s remarks that the ‘deep sundering’ of the speech of the Elves into two branches was at this time given an historical basis wholly different from that which afterwards caused the division. Here, Rúmil ascribes it to ‘the long wandering of the Noldoli about the Earth and the black ages of their thraldom while their kin dwelt yet in Valinor’—in later terms, ‘the Exile of the Noldor’. In The Silmarillion (see especially pp. 113, 129) the Noldor brought the Valinórean tongue to Middle-earth but abandoned it (save among themselves), and adopted instead the language of Beleriand, Sindarin of the Grey-elves, who had never been to Valinor: Quenya and Sindarin were of common origin, but their ‘deep sundering’ had been brought about through vast ages of separation. In the Lost Tales, on the other hand, the Noldor still brought the Elvish speech of Valinor to the Great Lands, but they retained it, and there it itself changed and became wholly different. In other words, in the original conception the ‘second tongue’ only split off from the parent speech through the departure of the Gnomes from Valinor into the Great Lands; whereas afterwards the ‘second tongue’ separated from the ‘first tongue’ near the very beginning of Elvish existence in the world. Nonetheless, Gnomish is Sindarin, in the sense that Gnomish is the actual language that ultimately, as the whole conception evolved, became that of the Grey-elves of Beleriand.

  With Rúmil’s remarks about the secret tongue which the Valar use and in which the Eldar once wrote poetry and books of wisdom, but few of them now know it, cf. the following note found in the little Lost Tales pocket-book referred to on p. 23:

  The Gods understood the language of the Elves but used it not among themselves. The wiser of the Elves learned much of the speech of the Gods and long treasured that knowledge among both Teleri and Noldoli, but by the time of the coming to Tol Eressëa none knew it save the Inwir, and now that knowledge is dead save in Meril’s house.

  Some new persons appear in this passage. Ómar the Vala ‘who knows all tongues’ did not survive the Lost Tales; a little more is heard of him subsequently, but he is a divinity without much substance. Tuor and Bronweg appear from the tale of The Fall of Gondolin, which was already written; Bronweg is the Gnomish form of Voronwë, that same Voronwë who accompanied Tuor from Vinyamar to Gondolin in the later legend. Tevildo Prince of Cats was a demonic servant of Melko and the remote forerunner of Sauron; he is a principal actor in the original story of Beren and Tinúviel, which was also already written (the Tale of Tinúviel).

  Littleheart the Gong-warden, son of Bronweg, now receives an Elvish name, Ilverin (an emendation from Elwenildo).

  The Music of the Ainur

  The original hastily pencilled and much emended draft text of The Music of the Ainur is still extant, on loose sheets placed inside the cover of the notebook that contains a fuller and much more finished text written in ink. This second version was however closely based on the first, and changed it chiefly by additions. The text given here is the second, but some passages where the two differ notably are annotated (few of the differences between the two texts are in my opinion of much significance). It will be seen from passages of the first draft given in the notes that the plural was originally Ainu, not Ainur, and that Ilúvatar was originally Ilu (but Ilúvatar also occurs in the draft).

  Then said Rúmil:

  ‘Hear now things that have not been heard among Men, and the Elves speak seldom of them; yet did Manwë Súlimo, Lord of Elves and Men, whisper them to the fathers of my father in the deeps of time.1 Behold, Ilúvatar dwelt alone. Before all things he sang into being the Ainur first, and greatest is their power and glory of all his creatures within the world and without. Thereafter he fashioned them dwellings in the void, and dwelt among them, teaching them all manner of things, and the greatest of these was music.

  Now he would speak propounding to them themes of song and joyous hymn, revealing many of the great and wonderful things that he devised ever in his mind and heart, and now they would make music unto him, and the voices of their instruments rise in splendour about his throne.

  Upon a time Ilúvatar propounded a mighty design of his heart to the Ainur, unfolding a history whose vastness and majesty had never been equalled by aught that he had related before, and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were speechless.

  Then said Ilúvatar: “The story that I have laid before you, and that great region of beauty that I have described unto you as the place where all that history might be unfolded and enacted, is related only as it were in outline. I have not filled all the empty spaces, neither have I recounted to you all the adornments and things of loveliness and delicacy whereof my mind is full. It is my desire now that ye make a great and glorious music and a singing of this theme; and (seeing that I have taught you much and set brightly the Secret Fire within you)2 that ye exercise your minds and powers in adorning the theme to your own thoughts and devising. But I will sit and hearken and be glad that through you I have made much beauty to come to Song.”

  Then the harpists, and the lutanists, the flautists and pipers, the organs and the countless choirs of the Ainur began to fashion the theme of Ilúvatar into great music; and a sound arose of mighty melodies changing an
d interchanging, mingling and dissolving amid the thunder of harmonies greater than the roar of the great seas, till the places of the dwelling of Ilúvatar and the regions of the Ainur were filled to overflowing with music, and the echo of music, and the echo of the echoes of music which flowed even into the dark and empty spaces far off. Never was there before, nor has there been since, such a music of immeasurable vastness of splendour; though it is said that a mightier far shall be woven before the seat of Ilúvatar by the choirs of both Ainur and the sons of Men after the Great End. Then shall Ilúvatar’s mightiest themes be played aright; for then Ainur and Men will know his mind and heart as well as may be, and all his intent.

  But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed very good to him, for the flaws in that music were few, and it seemed to him the Ainur had learnt much and well. But as the great theme progressed it came into the heart of Melko to interweave matters of his own vain imagining that were not fitting to that great theme of Ilúvatar. Now Melko had among the Ainur been given some of the greatest gifts of power and wisdom and knowledge by Ilúvatar; and he fared often alone into the dark places and the voids seeking the Secret Fire that giveth Life and Reality (for he had a very hot desire to bring things into being of his own); yet he found it not, for it dwelleth with Ilúvatar, and that he knew not till afterward.3

  There had he nonetheless fallen to thinking deep cunning thoughts of his own, all of which he showed not even to Ilúvatar. Some of these devisings and imaginings he now wove into his music, and straightway harshness and discordancy rose about him, and many of those that played nigh him grew despondent and their music feeble, and their thoughts unfinished and unclear, while many others fell to attuning their music to his rather than to the great theme wherein they began.

  In this way the mischief of Melko spread darkening the music, for those thoughts of his came from the outer blackness whither Ilúvatar had not yet turned the light of his face; and because his secret thoughts had no kinship with the beauty of Ilúvatar’s design its harmonies were broken and destroyed. Yet sat Ilúvatar and hearkened till the music reached a depth of gloom and ugliness unimaginable; then did he smile sadly and raised his left hand, and immediately, though none clearly knew how, a new theme began among the clash, like and yet unlike the first, and it gathered power and sweetness. But the discord and noise that Melko had aroused started into uproar against it, and there was a war of sounds, and a clangour arose in which little could be distinguished.

  Then Ilúvatar raised his right hand, and he no longer smiled but wept; and behold a third theme, and it was in no way like the others, grew amid the turmoil, till at the last it seemed there were two musics progressing at one time about the feet of Ilúvatar, and these were utterly at variance. One was very great and deep and beautiful, but it was mingled with an unquenchable sorrow, while the other was now grown to unity and a system of its own, but was loud and vain and arrogant, braying triumphantly against the other as it thought to drown it, yet ever, as it essayed to clash most fearsomely, finding itself but in some manner supplementing or harmonising with its rival.

  At the midmost of this echoing struggle, whereat the halls of Ilúvatar shook and a tremor ran through the dark places, Ilúvatar raised up both his hands, and in one unfathomed chord, deeper then the firmament, more glorious than the sun, and piercing as the light of Ilúvatar’s glance, that music crashed and ceased.

  Then said Ilúvatar: “Mighty are the Ainur, and glorious, and among them is Melko the most powerful in knowledge; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung and played, lo! I have caused to be—not in the musics that ye make in the heavenly regions, as a joy to me and a play unto yourselves, alone, but rather to have shape and reality even as have ye Ainur, whom I have made to share in the reality of Ilúvatar myself. Maybe I shall love these things that come of my song even as I love the Ainur who are of my thought,4 and maybe more. Thou Melko shalt see that no theme can be played save it come in the end of Ilúvatar’s self, nor can any alter the music in Ilúvatar’s despite. He that attempts this finds himself in the end but aiding me in devising a thing of still greater grandeur and more complex wonder:—for lo! through Melko have terror as fire, and sorrow like dark waters, wrath like thunder, and evil as far from my light as the depths of the uttermost of the dark places, come into the design that I laid before you. Through him has pain and misery been made in the clash of overwhelming musics; and with confusion of sound have cruelty, and ravening, and darkness, loathly mire and all putrescence of thought or thing, foul mists and violent flame, cold without mercy, been born, and death without hope. Yet is this through him and not by him; and he shall see, and ye all likewise, and even shall those beings, who must now dwell among his evil and endure through Melko misery and sorrow, terror and wickedness, declare in the end that it redoundeth only to my great glory, and doth but make the theme more worth the hearing, Life more worth the living, and the World so much the more wonderful and marvellous, that of all the deeds of Ilúvatar it shall be called his mightiest and his loveliest.”

  Then the Ainur feared and comprehended not all that was said, and Melko was filled with shame and the anger of shame; but Ilúvatar seeing their amaze arose in glory and went forth from his dwellings, past those fair regions he had fashioned for the Ainur, out into the dark places; and he bade the Ainur follow him.

  Now when they reached the midmost void they beheld a sight of surpassing beauty and wonder where before had been emptiness; but Ilúvatar said: “Behold your choiring and your music! Even as ye played so of my will your music took shape, and lo! even now the world unfolds and its history begins as did my theme in your hands. Each one herein will find contained within the design that is mine the adornments and embellishments that he himself devised; nay, even Melko will discover those things there which he thought to contrive of his own heart, out of harmony with my mind, and he will find them but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory. One thing only have I added, the fire that giveth Life and Reality”—and behold, the Secret Fire burnt at the heart of the world.

  Then the Ainur marvelled to see how the world was globed amid the void and yet separated from it; and they rejoiced to see light, and found it was both white and golden, and they laughed for the pleasure of colours, and for the great roaring of the ocean they were filled with longing. Their hearts were glad because of air and the winds, and the matters whereof the Earth was made—iron and stone and silver and gold and many substances: but of all these water was held the fairest and most goodly and most greatly praised. Indeed there liveth still in water a deeper echo of the Music of the Ainur than in any substance else that is in the world, and at this latest day many of the Sons of Men will hearken unsatedly to the voice of the Sea and long for they know not what.

  Know then that water was for the most part the dream and invention of Ulmo, an Ainu whom Ilúvatar had instructed deeper than all others in the depths of music; while the air and winds and the ethers of the firmament had Manwë Súlimo devised, greatest and most noble of the Ainur. The earth and most of its goodly substances did Aulë contrive, whom Ilúvatar had taught many things of wisdom scarce less than Melko, yet was there much therein that was nought of his.5

  Now Ilúvatar spake to Ulmo and said: “Seest thou not how Melko hath bethought him of biting colds without moderation, yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy crystal waters nor of all thy limpid pools. Even where he has thought to conquer utterly, behold snow has been made, and frost has wrought his exquisite works; ice has reared his castles in grandeur.”

  Again said Ilúvatar: “Melko hath devised undue heats, and fires without restraint, and yet hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of thy seas. Rather behold now the height and glory of the clouds and the magic that dwells in mist and vapours; listen to the whisper of rains upon the earth.”

  Then said Ulmo: “Yea truly is water fairer now than was my best devising before. Snow is of
a loveliness beyond my most secret thoughts, and if there is little music therein, yet rain is beautiful indeed and hath a music that filleth my heart, so glad am I that my ears have found it, though its sadness is among the saddest of all things. Lo! I will go seek Súlimo of the air and winds, that he and I play melodies for ever and ever to thy glory and rejoicing.”

  Now Ulmo and Manwë have been great friends and allies in almost all matters since then.6

  Now even as Ilúvatar spake to Ulmo, the Ainur beheld how the world unfolded, and that history which Ilúvatar had propounded to them as a great music was already being carried out. It is of their gathered memories of the speech of Ilúvatar and the knowledge, incomplete it may be, that each has of their music, that the Ainur know so much of the future that few things are unforeseen by them—yet are there some that be hidden even from these.7 So the Ainur gazed; until long before the coming of Men—nay, who does not know that it was countless ages before even the Eldar arose and sang their first song and made the first of all the gems, and were seen by both Ilúvatar and the Ainur to be of exceeding loveliness—there grew a contention among them, so enamoured did they become of the glory of the world as they gazed upon it, and so enthralled by the history enacted therein to which the beauty of the world was but the background and the scene.

  Now this was the end, that some abode still with Ilúvatar beyond the world—and these were mostly those who had been engrossed in their playing with thoughts of Ilúvatar’s plan and design, and cared only to set it forth without aught of their own devising to adorn it; but some others, and among them many of the most beautiful and wisest of the Ainur, craved leave of Ilúvatar to dwell within the world. For said they: “We would have the guarding of those fair things of our dreams, which of thy might have now attained to reality and surpassing beauty; and we would instruct both Eldar and Men in their wonder and uses whenso the times come that those appear upon Earth by your intent, first the Eldar and at length the fathers of the fathers of Men.” And Melko feigned that he desired to control the violence of the heats and turmoils he had set in the Earth, but of a truth purposed deep in his heart to usurp the power of the other Ainur and make war upon Eldar and Men, for he was wroth at those great gifts which Ilúvatar had purposed to give to these races.8