The Book Of Lost Tales: Part I Part 9

The abundant instruction provided by Rmil on this occasion is best discussed in sections, and I begin with: (i) The Coming of the Valar and their encounter with Melko (pp. 657) The description of the entry of the Valar into the world was not retained, though the account of them in this pa.s.sage is the ultimate origin of that in the Valaquenta (The Silmarillion pp. 259): not, however, by continuous ma.n.u.script progression. The pa.s.sage 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, Lrien, Nienna, Orom, Aldaron, Vna, Nessa, first appearing in this tale, and Manw, Slimo, Varda, Ulmo, Aul, Mandos, Oss, 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 nen, Fanturi for Fnturi; while yet others, as Yavanna Palrien and Tulkas Poldra, survived long in the 'Silmarillion' tradition before being displaced by Kementri (but cf. Kemi '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: mar-Amillo, and the barbaric war-G.o.ds Makar and Mess.

Here appear also certain relations that survived to the latest form. Thus Lrien and Mandos were from the beginning 'brethren', each with his special a.s.sociation, of 'dreams' and 'death' and Nienna stood from the beginning in a close relationship with them, here as 'the spouse of Mandos', though afterwards as the sister of the Fanturi. The original conception of Nienna was indeed darker and more fearful, a death-G.o.ddess in close a.s.sociation with Mandos, than it afterwards became. Oss's uncertain relations with Ulmo are seen to go back to the beginnings; but Ulmo's haughtiness and aloofness subsequently disappeared, at least as a feature of his divine 'character' explicitly described. Vna was already the spouse of Orom, but Orom was the son of Aul and (Yavanna) Palrien; in the later evolution of the myths Vna sank down in relation to Nienna, whereas Orom rose, becoming finally one of the great Valar, the Aratar.

Particularly interesting is the pa.s.sage concerning the host of lesser spirits who accompanied Aul and Palrien, from which one sees how old is the conception of the Eldar as quite dissimilar in essential nature from 'brownies, fays, pixies, leprawns', since the Eldar are 'of the world' and bound to it, whereas those others are beings from before the world's making. In the later work there is no trace of any such explanation of the 'pixie' element in the world's population: the Maiar are little referred to, and certainly not said to include such beings as 'sing amid the gra.s.s at morning and chant among the standing corn at eve'.*

Salmar, companion of Ulmo, who has appeared in The Music of the Ainur (p. 58), is now identified with Noldorin, who was mentioned by Vair in The Cottage of Lost Play (p. 16); such of his story as can be discerned will appear later. Subsequent writings say nothing of him save that he came with Ulmo and made his horns (The Silmarillion p. 40).

In the later development of this narrative there is no mention of Tulkas (or Mandos!) going off to round up Melkor at the very outset of the history of the Valar in Arda. In The Silmarillion we learn rather of the great war between the Valar and Melkor 'before Arda was full-shaped', and how it was the coming of Tulkas from 'the far heaven' that routed him, so that he fled from Arda and 'brooded in the outer darkness'.

(ii) The earliest conception of the Western Lands, and the Oceans The earliest map In The Cottage of Lost Play the expression 'Outer Lands' was used of the lands to the east of the Great Sea, later Middle-earth; this was then changed to 'Great Lands' (p. 21). The 'Outer Lands' are now defined as the Twilit Isles, Eruman (or Arvalin), and Valinor (p. 68). A curious usage, which often appears in the Lost Tales, is the equation of 'the world' with the Great Lands, or with the whole surface of the earth east of the Outer Lands; so the mountains 'towered mightily between Valinor and the world' (p. 70), and King Inw heard 'the lament of the world' (p. 16).

It is convenient to reproduce here a map (p. 81), which actually appears in the text of a later tale (that of The Theft of Melko and the Darkening of Valinor). This map, drawn on a ma.n.u.script page with the text written round it, is no more than a quick scribble, in soft pencil, now rubbed and faded, and in many features difficult or impossible to interpret. The redrawing is as accurate as I can make it, the only feature lost being some indecipherable letters (beginning with M) preceding the word Ice. I have added the letters a, b, c, etc. to make the discussion easier to follow.

Utumna (later Utumno) is placed in the extreme North, north of the lamp-pillar Ringil; the position of the southern pillar seems from this map to have been still undecided. The square marked a is obviously Valmar, and I take the two dots marked b to be the Two Trees, which are stated later to have been to the north of the city of the G.o.ds. The dot marked c is fairly clearly the domain of Mandos (cf. p. 76, where it is said that Vefntur Mandos and Fui Nienna begged Aul to delve them a hall 'beneath the roots of the most cold and northerly of the Mountains of Valinor');* the dot to the south of this can hardly represent the hall of Makar and Mess, since it is said (pp. 778) that though it was not very far from Mandos it stood 'upon the confines of the Outer Lands'.

The area which I have marked h is Eruman / Arvalin (which ultimately came to be named Avathar), earlier Habbanan / Harmalin (Harwalin), which are simple alternatives (see p. 79).

Later, in a map of the world made in the 1930s, the western sh.o.r.e of the Great Sea bends in a gentle and regular curve westward from north to south, while the Mountains of Valinor bend in virtually the reverse of the same curve eastward,)(; where the two curves come together at their midpoints are Tna, and Taniquetil. Two areas of land in the shape of elongated Vs thus extend northward and southward from the midpoint, between the Mountains and the Sea, which draw steadily away from each other; and these are named Eruman (to the northward) and Arvalin (to the southward).

In the little primitive map the line of the mountains is already thus, and it is described in the text as 'a great ring curving westward' (the curve is westward if the extremities are considered rather than the central portion) But the curve of the coast is different. Unhappily the little map is here very obscure, for there are several lines (marked j) extending northwards from Kr (marked d), and it is impossible to make out whether marks on them are directions for erasure or whether they represent parallel mountain-chains. But I think that in fact these lines merely represent variant ideas for the curve of the Mountains of Valinor in the north; and I have little doubt that at this time my father had no conception of a region of 'waste' north of Kr and east of the mountains. This interpretation of the map agrees well with what is said in the tale (p. 68): 'the Shadowy Seas to north of Eruman bend a vast bay inwards, so that waves beat even upon the feet of the great cliffs, and the Mountains stand beside the sea', and 'Taniquetil looks from the bay's head southward across Eruman and northward across the Bay of Fary'. On this view the name Eruman (later Araman), at first an alternative to Arvalin, was taken over for the northern waste when the plan of the coastal regions became more symmetrical.

It is said in the tale (p. 68) that 'in that vast water of the West are many smaller lands and isles, ere the lonely seas are found whose waves whisper about the Magic Isles'. The little circles on the map (marked k) are evidently a schematic representation of these archipelagoes (of the Magic Isles more will be told later). The Shadowy Seas, as will emerge more clearly later, were a region of the Great Sea west of Tol Eressa. The other letters on the map refer to features that have not yet entered the narrative.

In this tale we meet the important cosmological idea of the Three Airs, Vaitya, Ilw, and Vilna, and of the Outer Ocean, tideless, cold, and 'thin'. It has been said in The Music of the Ainur (p. 58) that Ulmo dwells in the Outer Ocean and that he gave to Oss and Onen 'control of the waves and lesser seas' he is there called 'the ancient one of Vai' (emended from Ulmonan). It is now seen that Ulmonan is the name of his halls in the Outer Ocean, and also that the 'lesser seas' controlled by Oss and nen include the Great Sea (p. 68).

There exists a very early and very remarkable drawing, in which the world is seen in section, and is presented as a huge 'Viking' ship, with mast arising from the highest point of the Great Lands, single sail on which are the Sun and Moon, sailropes fastened to Taniquetil and to a great mountain in the extreme East, and curved prow (the black marks on the sail are an ink-blot). This drawing was done fairly rapidly in soft pencil on a small sheet; and it is closely a.s.sociated with the cosmology of the Lost Tales.

I give here a list of the names and words written on the drawing with, so far as possible, their meanings (but without any etymological detail, for which see the Appendix on Names, where names and words occurring only on this drawing are given separate entries).

I Vene Kemen This is clearly the t.i.tle of the drawing; it might mean 'The Shape of the Earth' or 'The Vessel of the Earth' (see the Appendix on Names, entry Glorvent).

Nme 'West'.

Valinor; Taniquetil (The vast height of Taniquetil, even granting the formalisation of this drawing, is noteworthy: it is described in the tale as being so high that 'the throngs about westward havens in the lands of Men could be seen therefrom' (p. 68). Its fantastic height is conveyed in my father's painting, dating from 19278 (Pictures by J. R. R. Tolkien, no. 31).) Harmalin Earlier name of Arvalin (see p. 79).

i aldas 'The Trees' (standing to the west of Taniquetil).

Toros valinoriva Toros is obscure, but in any case the first letter of the first word, if it is a T, is a very uncharacteristic one. The reference seems to be to the Mountains of Valinor.

Tolli Kimpelear These must be the Twilit Isles, but I have found no other occurrence of Kimpelear or anything similar.

Tol Eressa 'The Lonely Isle'.

I Tolli Kuruvar 'The Magic Isles'.

Haloisi Velike 'The Great Sea'.

'The Sea'. (What is the structure at the sea-bottom shown below the name ? It must surely be the dwelling of Oss beneath the Great Sea that is referred to in the next tale (p. 106.) I Nori Landar Probably means 'The Great Lands'.

Koivieneni The precursor of Cuivienen, the Waters of Awakening.

Palisor The land where the Elves awoke.

Sil 'Moon'.

r 'Sun'.

Luvier 'Clouds'.

Oronto 'East'.

Vaitya, Ilw, and Vilna appear in the three layers described in the tale (p. 65), and Vilna reappears in the bottom right-hand corner of the drawing. There is nothing said in the Lost Tales to explain this last feature, nor is it at all evident what is represented by the curled lines in the same place (see p. 86).

Ulmonan The halls of Ulmo.

Uin The Great Whale, who appears later in the Tales.

Vai The Outer Ocean.

Neni Ermear 'Outermost Waters'= Vai.

It is seen from the drawing that the world floats in and upon Vai. This is indeed how Ulmo himself describes it to the Valar in a later tale (p. 214): Lo, there is but one Ocean, and that is Vai, for those that Oss esteemeth as oceans are but seas, waters that lie in the hollows of the rock...In this vast water floateth the wide Earth upheld by the word of Ilvatar...

In the same pa.s.sage Ulmo speaks of the islands in the seas, and says that ('save some few that swim still unfettered') they 'stand now like pinnacles from their weedy depths', as is also well seen in the drawing.

It might seem a plausible idea that there was some connection (physical as well as etymological) between Vai and Vaitya, the outermost of the Three Airs, 'wrapped dark and sluggish about the world and without it' (at a later point in the Tales, p. 181, there is a reference to 'the dark and tenuous realm of Vaitya that is outside all'). In the next 'phase' of the mythical cosmology (dating from the 1930s, and very clearly and fully doc.u.mented and ill.u.s.trated in a work called Ambarkanta, The Shape of the World) the whole world is contained within Vaiya, a word meaning 'fold, envelope' Vaiya 'is more like to sea below the Earth and more like to air above the Earth' (which chimes with the description of the waters of Vai (p. 68) as very 'thin', so that no boat can sail on them nor fish swim in them, save the enchanted fish of Ulmo and his car); and in Vaiya below the Earth dwells Ulmo. Thus Vaiya is partly a development of Vaitya and partly of Vai.

Now since in the earliest word-list of the Qenya tongue (see the Appendix on Names) both Vaitya ('the outermost air beyond the world') and Vai ('the outer ocean') are derived from a root vaya- 'enfold', and since Vaitya in the present tale is said to be 'wrapped about the world and without it', one might think that Vaitya-Vai already in the early cosmology was a continuous enfolding substance, and that the later cosmology, in this point, only makes explicit what was present but unexpressed in the Lost Tales. But there is certainly no actual suggestion of this idea in any early writing; and when we look again at the drawing it seems untenable. For Vai is obviously not continuous with Vaitya; and if the appearance of Vilna in the bottom of the drawing is taken to mean that the Earth, and the ocean Vai in and on which it floats, were contained within the Three Airs, of which we see the reappearance of the innermost (Vilna) below the earth and Vai, then the suggestion that Vaitya-Vai were continuous is still more emphatically confounded.

There remains the baffling question of the representation of the world as a ship. In only one place is there a suggestion that my father conceived the world in such a way: the pa.s.sage that I have cited above, in which Ulmo addresses the Valar on the subject of Vai, concludes: O Valar, ye know not all wonders, and many secret things are there beneath the Earth's dark keel, even where I have my mighty halls of Ulmonan, that ye have never dreamed on.

But in the drawing Ulmonan is not beneath the ship's keel, it is within the ship's hull; and I am inclined to think that Ulmo's words 'beneath the Earth's dark keel' refer to the shape of the Earth itself, which is certainly ship-like. Moreover, close examination of the original drawing strongly suggests to me that the mast and sail, and still more clearly the curved prow, were added afterwards. Can it be that the shape of the Earth and of Vai as he had drawn them-with the appearance of a ship's hull-prompted my father to add mast, sail, and prow as a jeu d'esprit, without deeper significance? That seems uncharacteristic and unlikely, but I have no other explanation to offer.*

(iii) The Lamps (pp. 6970) In this part of the narrative the tale differs remarkably from the later versions. Here there is no mention of the dwelling of the Valar on the Isle of Almaren after the making of the Lamps (The Silmarillion p. 35), nor of course of the return of Melko from 'outside'-because here Melko not only did not leave the world after entering it, but actually himself made the pillars of the Lamps. In this story, though Melko was distrusted by some, his guileful co-operation (even to the extent of contributing names for the pillars) was accepted, whereas in the later story his hostility and malice were known and manifest to the Valar, even though they did not know of his return to Arda and the building of Utumno until too late. In the present tale there is a tricksiness, a low cunning, in Melko's behaviour that could not survive (yet the story of his deceitful making of the pillars out of ice survived into the versions of the 1930s).

Later, it was the Lamps themselves that were named (ultimately, after intervening forms had been devised and discarded, Iluin the northern Lamp and Ormal the southern). In The Silmarillion Ringil (containing ring 'cold') survived only as the name of Fingolfin's sword, but Helcar is that of the Inland Sea which 'stood where aforetime the roots of the mountain of Illuin had been' (p. 49). In the present tale Helkar was the name of the southern, not the northern, pillar. Now helkar meant 'utter cold' (see the Appendix on Names), which shows that Helkar was originally in the extreme south (as it is in one of the two positions given for it on the little map, p. 81), just as Ringil was in the extreme north. In the tale there is no mention of the formation of Inland Seas at the fall of the Lamps; this idea appeared later, but it seems virtually certain that it arose from the story of the melting pillars of ice.

There is no later reference to the building of the Mountains of Valinor from great rocks gathered in Eruman / Arvalin, so that the region became flat and stoneless.

(iv) The Two Trees (pp. 713) This earliest account of the uprising of the Two Trees illuminates some elements of later versions more concentrated in expression. The enduring feature that the ground beneath Silpion (Telperion) was 'dappled with the shadows of his fluttering leaves' (The Silmarillion p. 38) is seen to have had its origin in the 'throbbing of the tree's heart'. The conception of light as a liquid substance that 'splashed upon the ground', that ran in rivers and was poured in cauldrons, though not lost in the published work (pp. 389), is here more strongly and physically expressed. Some features were never changed, as the cl.u.s.tered flowers of Laurelin and the shining edges of its leaves.

On the other hand there are notable differences between this and the later accounts: above all perhaps that Laurelin was in origin the Eldar Tree. The Two Trees had here periods of twelve hours, not as later seven;* and the preparations of the Valar for the birth of the Trees, with all their detail of physical 'magic', were afterwards abandoned. The two great 'cauldrons' Kulullin and Silindrin survived in the 'great vats like shining lakes' in which Varda h.o.a.rded 'the dews of Telperion and the rain that fell from Laurelin' (ibid. p. 39), though the names disappeared, as did the need to 'water' the Trees with the light gathered in the vats or cauldrons-or at any rate it is not mentioned later. Urwen ('Sun-maiden') was the forebear of Arien, Maia of the Sun; and Tilion, steersman of the Moon in The Silmarillion, who 'lay in dreams by the pools of Est [Lrien's wife], in Telperion's flickering beams', perhaps owes something to the figure of Silmo, whom Lrien loved.

As I noted earlier, 'in the later evolution of the myths Vna sank down in relation to Nienna', and here it is Vna and (Yavanna) Palrien who are the midwives of the birth of the Trees, not as afterwards Yavanna and Nienna.

As regards the names of the Trees, Silpion was for long the name of the White Tree; Telperion did not appear till long after, and even then Silpion was retained and is mentioned in The Silmarillion (p. 38) as one of its names. Laurelin goes back to the beginning and was never changed, but its other name in the Lost Tales, Lindeloks and other similar forms, was not retained.

(v) The Dwellings of the Valar (pp. 73 ff.) This account of the mansions of the Valar was very largely lost in the subsequent versions. In the published work nothing is told of Manw's dwelling, save the bare fact that his halls were 'above the everlasting snow, upon Oioloss, the uttermost tower of Taniquetil' (p. 26). Here now appears Sorontur King of Eagles, a visitor to Manw's halls (cf. The Silmarillion p. 110: 'For Manw to whom all birds are dear, and to whom they bring news upon Taniquetil from Middle-earth, had sent forth the race of Eagles'); he had in fact appeared already in the tale of The Fall of Gondolin, as 'Thorndor [the Gnomish name] King of Eagles whom the Eldar name Ramandur', Ramandur being subsequently emended to Sorontur.

Of Valmar and the dwellings of the Valar in the city scarcely anything survived in later writing, and there remain only phrases here and there (the 'golden streets' and 'silver domes' of Valmar, 'Valmar of many bells') to suggest the solidity of the original description, where Tulkas' house of many storeys had a tower of bronze and Orom's halls were upheld by living trees with trophies and antlers hung upon their trunks. This is not to say that all such imagining was definitively abandoned: as I have said in the Foreword, the Lost Tales were followed by a version so compressed as to be no more than a resume (as was its purpose), and the later development of the mythology proceeded from that-a process of re-expansion. Many things never referred to again after the Lost Tales may have continued to exist in a state of suspension, as it were. Valmar certainly remained a city, with gates, streets, and dwellings. But in the context of the later work one could hardly conceive of the tempestuous Oss being possessed of a house in Valmar, even if its floor were of seawater and its roof of foam; and of course the hall of Makar and Mess (where the life described owes something to the myths of the Unending Battle in ancient Scandinavia) disappeared with the disappearance of those divinities-a 'Melko-faction' in Valinor that was bound to prove an embarra.s.sment.

Several features of the original descriptions endured: the rarity of Ulmo's visits to Valmar (cf. The Silmarillion p. 40), the frequency with which Palrien and Orom visit 'the world without' (ibid. pp. 29, 41, 47), the a.s.sociation of the gardens of Lrien with Silpion and of the gardens of Vna with Laurelin (ibid. p. 99); and much that is said here of the divine 'characters' can be seen to have remained, even if differently expressed. Here also appears Nessa, already as the wife of Tulkas and the sister of Orom, excelling in the dance; and mar-Amillo is now named the brother of Noldorin-Salmar. It appears elsewhere (see p. 93) that Nielqui was the daughter of Orom and Vna.

(vi) The G.o.ds of Death and the Fates of Elves and Men

(pp. 767)

This section of the tale contains its most surprising and difficult elements. Mandos and his wife Nienna appear in the account of the coming of the Valar into the world at the beginning of the tale (p. 66), where they are named 'Fantur of Death, Vefntur Mandos' and 'Fui Nienna', 'mistress of death'. In the present pa.s.sage it is said that Vefntur named his dwelling V by his own name, whereas afterwards (The Silmarillion p. 28) he was called by the name of his dwelling; but in the early writing there is a distinction between the region (Mandos) and the halls (V and Fui) within the region. There is here no trace of Mandos as the 'Doomsman of the Valar', who 'p.r.o.nounces his dooms and his judgements only at the bidding of Manw', one of the most notable aspects of the later conception of this Vala; nor, since Nienna is the wife of Mandos, has Vair the Weaver, his wife in the later story, appeared, with her tapestries that portray 'all things that have ever been in Time' and clothe the halls of Mandos 'that ever widen as the ages pa.s.s'-in the Lost Tales the name Vair is given to an Elf of Tol Eressa. Tapestries 'picturing those things that were and shall be' are found here in the halls of Aul (p. 74).

Most important in the pa.s.sage concerning Mandos is the clear statement about the fate of Elves who die: that they wait in the halls of Mandos until Vefntur decrees their release, to be reborn in their own children. This latter idea has already appeared in the tale of The Music of the Ainur (p. 59), and it remained my father's unchanged conception of Elvish 'immortality' for many years; indeed the idea that the Elves might die only from the wounds of weapons or from grief was never changed-it also has appeared in The Music of the Ainur (ibid.): 'the Eldar dwell till the Great End unless they be slain or waste in grief', a pa.s.sage that survived with little alteration in The Silmarillion (p. 42).

With the account of Fui Nienna, however, we come upon ideas in deep contradiction to the central thought of the later mythology (and in this pa.s.sage, also, there is a strain of another kind of mythic conception, in the 'conceits' of 'the distilling of salt humours whereof are tears', and the black clouds woven by Nienna which settle on the world as 'despairs and hopeless mourning, sorrows and blind grief'). Here we learn that Nienna is the judge of Men in her halls named Fui after her own name; and some she keeps in the region of Mandos (where is her hall), while the greater number board the black ship Morni-which does no more than ferry these dead down the coast to Arvalin, where they wander in the dusk until the end of the world. But yet others are driven forth to be seized by Melko and taken to endure 'evil days' in Angamandi (in what sense are they dead, or mortal?); and (most extraordinary of all) there are a very few who go to dwell among the G.o.ds in Valinor. We are far away here from the Gift of Ilvatar, whereby Men are not bound to the world, but leave it, none know where;* and this is the true meaning of Death (for the death of the Elves is a 'seeming death', The Silmarillion p. 42): the final and inescapable exit.

But a little illumination, if of a very misty kind, can be shed on the idea of Men, after death, wandering in the dusk of Arvalin, where they 'camp as they may' and 'wait in patience till the Great End'. I must refer here to the details of the changed names of this region, which have been given on p. 79. It is clear from the early word-lists or dictionaries of the two languages (for which see the Appendix on Names) that the meaning of Harwalin and Arvalin (and probably Habbanan also) was 'nigh Valinor' or 'nigh the Valar'. From the Gnomish dictionary it emerges that the meaning of Eruman was 'beyond the abode of the Mnir' (i.e. south of Taniquetil, where dwelt Manw's spirits of the air), and this dictionary also makes it clear that the word Mnir was related to Gnomish manos, defined as 'a spirit that has gone to the Valar or to Erumni', and mani 'good, holy'. The significance of these etymological connections is very unclear.

But there is also a very early poem on the subject of this region. This, according to my father's notes, was written at Brocton Camp, Staffordshire, in December 1915 or at etaples in June 1916; and it is ent.i.tled Habbanan beneath the Stars. In one of the three texts (in which there are no variants) there is a t.i.tle in Old English: pa gebletsode ['blessed'] felda under pam steorrum, and in two of them Habbanan in the t.i.tle was emended to Eruman; in the third Eruman stood from the first. The poem is preceded by a short prose preamble.

Habbanan beneath the Stars Now Habbanan is that region where one draws nigh to the places that are not of Men. There is the air very sweet and the sky very great by reason of the broadness of the Earth.

In Habbanan beneath the skies Where all roads end however long There is a sound of faint guitars And distant echoes of a song, For there men gather into rings Round their red fires while one voice sings- And all about is night.

Not night as ours, unhappy folk, Where nigh the Earth in hazy bars, A mist about the springing of the stars, There trails a thin and wandering smoke Obscuring with its veil half-seen The great abysmal still Serene.

A globe of dark gla.s.s faceted with light Wherein the splendid winds have dusky flight; Untrodden s.p.a.ces of an odorous plain That watches for the moon that long has lain And caught the meteors' fiery rain- Such there is night.

There on a sudden did my heart perceive That they who sang about the Eve, Who answered the bright-shining stars With gleaming music of their strange guitars, These were His wandering happy sons Encamped upon those ary leas Where G.o.d's unsullied garment runs In glory down His mighty knees.

A final evidence comes from the early Qenya word-list. The original layer of entries in this list dates (as I believe, see the Appendix on Names) from 1915, and among these original entries, under a root mana (from which Manw is derived), is given a word manimo which means a soul who is in manimuine 'Purgatory'.

This poem, and this entry in the word-list, offer a rare and very suggestive glimpse of the mythic conception in its earliest phase; for here ideas that are drawn from Christian theology are explicitly present. It is disconcerting to perceive that they are still present in this tale. For in the tale there is an account of the fates of dead Men after judgement in the black hall of Fui Nienna. Some ('and these are the many') are ferried by the death-ship to (Habbanan) Eruman, where they wander in the dusk and wait in patience till the Great End; some are seized by Melko and tormented in Angamandi 'the h.e.l.ls of Iron' and some few go to dwell with the G.o.ds in Valinor. Taken with the poem and the evidence of the early 'dictionaries', can this be other than a reflection of Purgatory, h.e.l.l, and Heaven?

This becomes all the more extraordinary if we refer to the concluding pa.s.sage of the tale of The Music of the Ainur (p. 59), where Ilvatar said: 'To Men I will give a new gift and a greater', the gift that they might 'fashion and design their life beyond even the original Music of the Ainur that is as fate to all things else', and where it is said that 'it is one with this gift of power that the Children of Men dwell only for a short time in the world alive, yet do not perish utterly for ever...' In the final form given in The Silmarillion pp. 412 this pa.s.sage was not very greatly changed. The early version does not, it is true, have the sentences: But the sons of Men die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Ilvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.

Even so, it seems clear that this central idea, the Gift of Death, was already present.

This matter I must leave, as a conundrum that I cannot solve. The most obvious explanation of the conflict of ideas within these tales would be to suppose The Music of the Ainur later than The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor; but as I have said (p. 61) all the appearances are to the contrary.

Lastly may be noticed the characteristic linguistic irony whereby Eruman ultimately became Araman. For Arvalin meant simply 'near Valinor', and it was the other name Eruman that had a.s.sociations with spirits of the dead; but Araman almost certainly simply means 'beside Aman'. And yet the same element man- 'good' remains, for Aman was derived from it ('the Unmarred State').

Two minor matters in the conclusion of the tale remain to be noticed. Here Nornor is the Herald of the G.o.ds; afterwards this was Fionw (later Eonw), see p. 63. And in the reference to 'that low place amid the hills where Valinor may just be glimpsed', near to Taniquetil, we have the first mention of the gap in the Mountains of Valinor where was the hill of the city of the Elves.

On blank pages near the end of the text of this tale my father wrote a list of secondary names of the Valar (as Manw Slimo, etc.). Some of these names appear in the text of the Tales; those that do not are given in the Appendix on Names under the primary names. It emerges from this list that mar-Amillo is the twin of Salmar-Noldorin (they are named as brothers in the tale, p. 75); that Nielqui (p. 75) is the daughter of Orom and Vna; and that Melko has a son ('by Ulbandi') called Kosomot: this, it will emerge later, was Gothmog Lord of Balrogs, whom Ecthelion slew in Gondolin.

IV.

THE CHAINING OF MELKO.

Following the end of Rmil's tale of The Coming of the Valar and the Building of Valinor there is a long interlude before the next one, though the ma.n.u.script continues without even interrupting the paragraph. But on the cover of the notebook The Chaining of Melko is given as a separate t.i.tle, and I have adopted this. The text continues in ink over an erased pencil ma.n.u.script.

That night Eriol heard again in his sleep the music that had so moved him on the first night; and the next morning he went again into the gardens early. There he met Vair, and she called him Eriol: 'that was the first making and uttering of that name'. Eriol told Vair of the 'dream-musics' he had heard, and she said that it was no dream-music, but rather the flute of Timpinen, 'whom those Gnomes Rmil and Littleheart and others of my house call Tinfang'. She told him that the children called him Tinfang Warble; and that he played and danced in summer dusks for joy of the first stars: 'at every note a new one sparkles forth and glisters. The Noldoli say that they come out too soon if Tinfang Warble plays, and they love him, and the children will watch often from the windows lest he tread the shadowy lawns unseen.' She told Eriol that he was 'shier than a fawn-swift to hide and dart away as any vole: a footstep on a twig and he is away, and his fluting will come mocking from afar'.

'And a marvel of wizardry liveth in that fluting,' said Eriol, 'if that it be indeed which I have heard now for two nights here.'

'There be none,' said Vair, 'not even of the Solosimpi, who can rival him therein, albeit those same pipers claim him as their kin; yet 'tis said everywhere that this quaint spirit is neither wholly of the Valar nor of the Eldar, but is half a fay of the woods and dells, one of the great companies of the children of Palrien, and half a Gnome or a Sh.o.r.eland Piper.1 Howso that be he is a wondrous wise and strange creature, and he fared hither away with the Eldar long ago, marching nor resting among them but going always ahead piping strangely or whiles sitting aloof. Now does he play about the gardens of the land; but Alalminr he loves the best, and this garden best of all. Ever and again we miss his piping for long months, and we say: "Tinfang Warble has gone heart-breaking in the Great Lands, and many a one in those far regions will hear his piping in the dusk outside tonight." But on a sudden will his flute be heard again at an hour of gentle gloaming, or will he play beneath a goodly moon and the stars go bright and blue.'

'Aye,' said Eriol, 'and the hearts of those that hear him go beating with a quickened longing. Meseemed 'twas my desire to open the window and leap forth, so sweet was the air that came to me from without, nor might I drink deep enough, but as I listened I wished to follow I know not whom, I know not whither, out into the magic of the world beneath the stars.'

'Then of a sooth 'twas Timpinen who played to you,' said Vair, 'and honoured are you, for this garden has been empty of his melody many a night. Now, however, for such is the eeriness of that sprite, you will ever love the evenings of summer and the nights of stars, and their magic will cause your heart to ache unquenchably.'

'But have you not all heard him many times and often, that dwell here,' said Eriol, 'yet do not seem to me like those who live with a longing that is half understood and may not be fulfilled.'

'Nor do we so, for we have limp,' said she, 'limp that alone can cure, and a draught of it giveth a heart to fathom all music and song.'

'Then,' said Eriol, 'would I might drain a goblet of that good drink' but Vair told him that that might only be if he sought out Meril the queen.

Of this converse of Eriol and Vair upon the lawn that fair day-tide came it that Eriol set out not many days thereafter-and Tinfang Warble had played to him many times by dusk, by starry light and moongleam, till his heart was full. In that was Littleheart his guide, and he sought the dwellings of Meril-i-Turinqui in her korin of elms.

Now the house of that fair lady was in that very city, for at the foot of the great tower which Ingil had built was a wide grove of the most ancient and beautiful elms that all that Land of Elms possessed. High to heaven they rose in three lessening storeys of bright foliage, and the sunlight that filtered through was very cool-a golden green. Amidst of these was a great green sward of gra.s.s smooth as a web of stuffs, and about it those trees stood in a circle, so that shades were heavy at its edge but the gaze of the sun fell all day on its middle. There stood a beautiful house, and it was builded all of white and of a whiteness that shone, but its roof was so o'ergrown with mosses and with houseleek and many curious clinging plants that of what it was once fashioned might not be seen for the glorious maze of colours, golds and red-russets, scarlets and greens.

Innumerable birds chattered in its eaves; and some sang upon the housetops, while doves and pigeons circled in flights about the korin's borders or swooped to settle and sun upon the sward. Now all that dwelling was footed in flowers. Blossomy cl.u.s.ters were about it, ropes and tangles, spikes and ta.s.sels all in bloom, flowers in panicles and umbels or with great wide faces gazing at the sun. There did they loose upon the faintly stirring airs their several odours blended to a great fragrance of exceeding marvellous enchantment, but their hues and colours were scattered and gathered seemingly as chance and the happiness of their growth directed them. All day long there went a hum of bees among those flowers: bees fared about the roof and all the scented beds and ways; even about the cool porches of the house. Now Littleheart and Eriol climbed the hill and it was late afternoon, and the sun shone brazen upon the western side of Ingil's tower. Soon came they to a mighty wall of hewn stone blocks, and this leaned outward, but gra.s.ses grew atop of it, and harebells, and yellow daisies.

A wicket they found in the wall, and beyond was a glade beneath the elms, and there ran a pathway bordered of one side with bushes while of the other flowed a little running water whispering over a brown bed of leafy mould. This led even to the sward's edge, and coming thither said Littleheart pointing to that white house: 'Behold the dwelling of Meril-i-Turinqui, and as I have no errand with so great a lady I will get me back again.' Then Eriol went over the sunny lawn alone until he was nigh shoulder-high in the tall flowers that grew before the porches of the door; and as he drew near a sound of music came to him, and a fair lady amid many maidens stepped forth as it were to meet him. Then said she smiling: 'Welcome, O mariner of many seas-wherefore do you seek the pleasure of my quiet gardens and their gentle noise, when the salt breezes of the sea and the snuff of winds and a swaying boat should rather be your joy?'

For a while Eriol might say nought thereto, being tongue-tied by the beauty of that lady and the loveliness of that place of flowers; yet at length he muttered that he had known sea enough, but of this most gracious land he might never be sated. 'Nay,' said she, 'on a day of autumn will come the winds and a driven gull, maybe, will wail overhead, and lo! you will be filled with desire, remembering the black coasts of your home.'2 'Nay, lady,' said Eriol, and now he spoke with eager voice, 'nay, not so, for the spirit that flutes upon twilit lawns has filled my heart with music, and I thirst for a draught of limp!'

Then straightway did the smiling face of Meril grow grave, and bidding her maidens depart she prayed Eriol follow her to a s.p.a.ce nigh to the house, and this was of cool gra.s.s but not very short. Fruit-trees grew there, and about the roots of one, an apple-tree of great girth and age, the soil was piled so that there was now a broad seat around its bole, soft and gra.s.s-covered. There sat Meril and she gazed upon Eriol and said: 'Know you then what it is that you ask?' and he said: 'I know nought save that I desire to know the soul of every song and of all music and to dwell always in fellowship and kinship with this wondrous people of the Eldar of the Isle, and to be free of unquenchable longing even till the Faring Forth, even till the Great End!'

But Meril said: 'Fellowship is possible, maybe, but kinship not so, for Man is Man and Elda Elda, and what Ilvatar has made unalike may not become alike while the world remains. Even didst thou dwell here till the Great End and for the health of limp found no death, yet then must thou die and leave us, for Man must die once. And hearken, O Eriol, think not to escape unquenchable longing with a draught of limp-for only wouldst thou thus exchange desires, replacing thy old ones with new and deeper and more keen. Desire unsatisfied dwells in the hearts of both those races that are called the Children of Ilvatar, but with the Eldar most, for their hearts are filled with a vision of beauty in great glory.' 'Yet, O Queen,' said Eriol thereto, 'let me but taste of this drink and become an agelong fellow of your people: O queen of the Eldali, that I may be as the happy children of Mar Vanwa Tyalieva.' 'Nay, not yet can I do that,' said Meril, 'for 'tis a graver matter far to give this drink to one who has known life and days already in the lands of Men than for a child to drink who knows but little else; yet even these did we keep a long while ere we gave them the wine of song, teaching them first much lore and testing their hearts and souls. Therefore I bid you now bide still longer and learn all that you may in this our isle. Lo, what do you know of the world, or of the ancient days of Men, or of the roots which those things that now are have far back in time, or what of the Eldali and all their wisdom, that you should claim our cup of youth and poesy?'

'The tongue of Tol Eressa do I know, and of the Valar have I heard, and the great world's beginning, and the building of Valinor; to musics have I hearkened and to poesy and the laughter of the Elves, and all I have found true and good, and my heart knows and it saith to me that these shall I always henceforth love, and love alone'-thus answered Eriol, and his heart was sore for the refusal of the Queen.

'Yet nothing do you know of the coming of the Elves, of the fates wherein they move, nor their nature and the place that Ilvatar has given to them. Little do you reck of that great splendour of their home in Eldamar upon the hill of Kr, nor all the sorrow of our parting. What know you of our travail down all the dark ways of the world, and the anguish we have known because of Melko; of the sorrows we have suffered, and do yet, because of Men, of all the fears that darken our hopes because of Men? Know you the wastes of tears that lie between our life in Tol Eressa and that time of laughter that we knew in Valinor? O child of Men who wouldst be sharer of the fates of the Eldali, what of our high desires and all those things we look for still to be-for lo! if you drink this drink all these must you know and love, having one heart with us-nay, even at the Faring Forth, should Eldar and Men fall into war at the last, still must you stand by us against the children of your kith and kin, but until then never may you fare away home though longings gnaw you-and the desires that at whiles consume a full-grown man who drinketh limp are a fire of unimagined torture-knew you these things, O Eriol, when you fared hither with your request?'

'Nay, I knew them not,' said Eriol sadly, 'though often have I questioned folk thereof.'

'Then lo!' said Meril, 'I will begin a tale, and tell you some of it ere the long afternoon grows dim-but then must you fare hence again in patience' and Eriol bowed his head.

'Then,' said Meril, 'now I will tell you of a time of peace the world once knew, and it is known as "Melko's Chains".3 Of the Earth I will tell you as the Eldar found it and of the manner of their awakening into it.

Behold, Valinor is built, and the G.o.ds dwell in peace, for Melko is far in the world delving deep and fortifying himself in iron and cold, but Makar and Mess ride upon the gales and rejoice in earthquakes and the overmastering furies of the ancient seas. Light and beautiful is Valinor, but there is a deep twilight upon the world, for the G.o.ds have gathered so much of that light that had before flowed about the airs. Seldom now falls the shimmering rain as it was used, and there reigns a gloom lit with pale streaks or shot with red where Melko spouts to heaven from a fire-torn hill.