My BIGGEST pet peeve when it comes to Tolkien is how people will sometimes characterize Melkor’s rebellion as being about him wanting to do his own thing and rebelling against Illuvatar’s oppressive sheet music.
THERE WAS NO SHEET MUSIC! Illuvatar wasn’t forcing anything. The Ainulindale was improv. Illuvatar just gave them the theme, the idea, the feeling, the starting point. The Ainur were drawing inspiration from the thought of Illuvatar, sure, and so long as they were in harmony the music played precisely as Illuvatar intended because Illuvatar had created them and knew how they worked together. But the music of the Ainur before Melkor’s dissonance was quintessentially creative, as well as corroborative. It was spontaneous, perfect harmony of free individuals perfectly in tune with each other, whose improvisations were constantly building upon each other.
Melkor’s rebellion was not about asserting his freedom of expression, because his expression was already free. Instead it was explicitly about making his own voice louder and more important than anyone else’s, and subjugating the creativity of others to instead convince or force them to follow him exactly in repetitive unison. And so, when Melkor’s goal became drown everyone else out, instead of make beautiful music together, his music became less creative, less innovative, and less his.
So it kind of annoys me when people talk about Melkor like he’s all for freedom of expression when he’s pretty much the opposite of that.
How.many of y’all been in jazz bands and gotten lead sheets for a song? Just the chord structure, some rhythms jotted out and maybe a few bars of a unifying theme? I played in student jazz bands for 6 years and let me tell you, the truly good musicians listen and feel out the structure of the song and when it comes to their solo, they’re ready and their expression shines. But then you get that one jackass who pulls something weird out of his ass during a performance and doesn’t follow the chord structure and you have to either let it sound bad or drown him out. It’s not freedom or creativity. It’s just being an asshole because you won’t play well with others.
This is pretty clearly reinforced in the story later when the Valar are all happily creating and building and inventing and Morgoth is coming along behind them and breaking all their shit like a toddler on a rampage in a nursery school. I just can’t see him as some noble antihero. (Nothing against people who do or who just enjoy that interpretation!)
Additionally I tend to see Tulkas as the one who fills the “destruction” niche in the pantheon moreso than Morgoth. This is not backed up by any word of Tolkien but I have long had a theory that Morgoth was meant to be Mankind’s BFF before he went haywire. Like, that was supposed to be his Thing the way the stars were Varda’s and the Airs were Manwë’s. There’s tons of supporting connections that point to this in the text, particularly in my mind that it’s a Man who’s destined to destroy Morgoth in the Dagor Dagorath. Not Eru, not one of the Valar, not an Elf, but frigging Túrin. Why? Because nobody in all the world was more betrayed by Morgoth than Men (and one Man in particular). His intended purpose was utterly corrupted in his actions.
This is specially clear in the paranoid lies he fed to Feanor about Men coming to steal the world, and the references to Morgoth hating Elves but *fearing* Men. Your insecurity is showing, buddy.
And maybe it’s just the Finrod fan in me, but his statement about Men being the inheritors of this mess with their ultimate destiny being to essentially heal the things that Morgoth broke in the world despite being (in the text) weaker, lesser, and easily corrupted…there’s a poetic symmetry and a ragged hopefulness in that that I find incredibly moving, all theorizing aside. The weakest of Eru’s children healing the wounds, including their own, caused by the failings and betrayals of the most powerful of the Valar. Healing wounds that no one else could correct despite their failures and weaknesses.
Time and again Tolkien gently guides his tales away from glorying in violence, instead holding up compassion and healing as the greatest work of all. Not just in the Silmarillion, either: “The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.” As presented I would argue that it’s not Morgoth’s rebellion that is subvertive, but Men’s ability to heal from the damage he caused. If anything, Morgoth is nothing but entropy – mindless, pointless, the blank space in which others bring forth defiant love.
This dynamic is part of why his stories deeply affected me and continue to do so.
Tag: tolkien
old english word of the day: earendel, a shining light, ray
If we speak last of the “folly” of Manwë and the weakness and unwariness of the Valar, let us beware how we judge. In the histories, indeed, we may be amazed and grieved to read how (seemingly) Melkor deceived and cozened others, and how even Manwë appears at times almost a simpleton compared with him: as if a kind but unwise father were treating a wayward child who would assuredly in time perceive the error of his ways. Whereas we, looking on and knowing the outcome, see now that Melkor knew well the error of his ways, but was fixed in them by hate and pride beyond return. He could read the mind of Manwë, for the door was open; but his own mind was false and even if the door seemed open, there were doors of iron within closed for ever.
How otherwise would you have it? Should Manwë and the Valar meet secrecy with subterfuge, treachery with falsehood, lies with more lies? If Melkor would usurp their rights, should they deny his? Can hate overcome hate? Nay, Manwë was wiser; or being ever open to Eru he did His will, which is more than wisdom. He was ever open because he had nothing to conceal, no thought that it was harmful for any to know, if they could comprehend it.Indeed Melkor knew his will without questioning it; and he knew that Manwë was bound by the commands and injunctions of Eru, and would do this or abstain from that in accordance with them, always, even knowing that Melkor would break them as it suited his purpose. Thus the merciless will ever count on mercy, and the liars make use of truth; for if mercy and truth are withheld from the cruel and the lying, they have ceased to be honoured.
Manwë could not by duress attempt to compel Melkor to reveal his thought and purposes, or (if he used words) to speak the truth. If he spoke and said: this is true, he must be believed until proved false; if he said: this I will do, as you bid, he must be allowed the opportunity to fulfill his promise.
The force and restraint that were used upon Melkor by the united power of all the Valar, were not used to extort confession (which was needless); nor to compel him to reveal his thought (which was unlawful, even if not vain). He was made captive as a punishment for his evil deeds, under the authority of the King. So we may say; but it were better said that he was deprived for a term,fixed by promise, of his power to act, so that he might halt and consider himself, and have thus the only chance that mercy could contrive of repentance and amendment. For the healing of Arda indeed, but for his own healing also. Melkor had the right to exist, and the right to act and use his powers. Manwë had the authority to rule and to order the world, so far as he could, for the well-being of the Eruhíni; but if Melkor would repent and return to the allegiance of Eru, he must be given his freedom again. He could not been slaved, or denied his part. The office of the Elder King was to retain all his subjects in the allegiance of Eru, or to bring them back to it, and in that allegiance to leave them free.
Therefore not until the last, and not then except by the express command of Eru and by His power, was Melkor thrown utterly down and deprived for ever of all power to do or to undo.
Who among the Eldar hold that the captivity of Melkor in Mandos (which was achieved by force) was either unwise or unlawful? Yet the resolve to assault Melkor, not merely to withstand him, to meet violence with wrath to the peril of Arda, was taken by Manwë only with reluctance. And consider:what good in this case did even the lawful use of force accomplish? It removed him for a while and relieved Middle-earth from the pressure of his malice, but it did not uproot his evil, for it could not do so. Unless, maybe, Melkor had indeed repented. But he did not repent, and in humiliation he became more obdurate: more subtle in his deceits, more cunning in his lies, crueller and more dastardly in his revenge. The weakest and most imprudent of all the actions of Manwë, as it seems to many, was the release of Melkor from captivity. From this came the greatest loss and harm: the death of the Trees, and the exile and the anguish of the Noldor. Yet through this suffering there came also, as maybe in no other way could it have come, the victory of the Elder Days: the downfall of Angband and the last overthrow of Melkor.
Who then can say with assurance that if Melkor had been held in bond less evil would have followed? Even in his diminishment the power of Melkor is beyond our calculation. Yet some ruinous outburst of his despair is not the worst that might have befallen. The release was according to the promise of Manwë. If Manwë had broken this promise for his own purposes, even though still intending “good”, he would have taken a step upon the paths of Melkor. That is a perilous step. In that hour and act he would have ceased to be the vice-regent of the One, becoming but a king who takes advantage over a rival whom he has conquered by force. Would we then have the sorrows that indeed befell; or would we have the Elder King lose his honour, and so pass, maybe, to a world rent between two proud lords striving for the throne? Of this we may be sure, we children of small strength: any one of the Valar might have taken the paths of Melkor and become like him: one was enough.
— excerpt from “Ósanwe-kenta” by J.R.R. Tolkien
me: i love tolkien’s worldbuilding and lore it’s so intricate and beautiful and amazing and-
tolkien: golf was invented when a hobbit knocked a goblin king’s head off with a wooden club and the head soared through the air and landed in a rabbit’s hole
#i thought this was gonna be a joke post but i see it’s just quick meta with an example (via @crocordile)
Yet seldom well and outlaw ends;
and Morgoth was a king more strong
than all the world has since in song
recorded: dark athwart the land
reached out the shadow of his hand,
at each recoil returned again;
two more were sent for one foe slain.
New hope was cowed, all rebels killed;
quenched were the fires, the songs were stilled,
tree felled, heath burned, and through the waste
marched the black host of Orcs in haste.Almost they closed their ring of steel
round Beren; hard upon his heel
now trod their spies; within their hedge
of all aid shorn, upon the edge
of death at bay he stood aghast
and knew that he must die at last,
or flee the land of Barahir,
his land beloved. Beside the mere
beneath a heap of nameless stones
must crumble those once mighty bones,
forsaken by both son and kin,
bewailed by reeds of Aeluin.In winter’s night the houseless North
he left behind, and stealing forth
the leaguer of his watchful foe
he passed – a shadow on the snow,
a swirl of wind, and he was gone,
the ruin of Dorthonion,
Tarn Aeluin and its water wan,
never again to look upon.
No more shall hidden bowstring sing,
no more his shaven arrows wing,
no more his hunted head shall lie
upon the heath beneath the sky.
The Northern stars, whose silver fire
of old Men named the Burning Briar,
were set behind his back, and shone
o’er land forsaken: he was gone.
Lay of Leithian, Canto III, lines 190-228
Ouch. If you don’t feel for Beren here, have your heart broken at his anguish and dilemma at having to finally abandon not just his only homeland but the grave of his father and family and companions these last nine years, the unmarked grave-mound he built with his own hands and thus the only one to know of its existence, the carrier of their fates and memories, to leave it with no sign of care to be reclaimed by the wilderness …. well, I don’t know what to say to you.
The grief of never returning home.
Of abandoning the war against Morgoth and how it must feel like a defeat even as his escape is a victory.
That to smoke Beren out from cover, to finally cower him and make him concede a loss in Dorthonion, Morgoth’s forces must literally destroy the very land itself, destroy every tree and bush. That as long as the earth has life to it, it shall sustain and guard its protector. There is something less human and more forest god to Beren in those four years after he loses his father, cousins, and companions.
That Morgoth, to stamp out hope, must stamp out growing things.
I love how Beren is described as he flees: “a shadow on the snow, a swirl of wind”. He is the intangible, the untouchable, the ethereal.
And the stars at his back. One, that he doesn’t look back after he makes his heart-wrenching decision. But the stars themselves – this is a constellation given another name in The Silmarillion.
“And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom” (p. 48).
The constellation is the symbol and warning that Morgoth will not rest uncontested, be in Utumno or Angband. That his downfall will come.
That though Beren flees now, he flees unbroken and free of the orcs, and he shall return one day with vengeance and victory.
(via squirrelwrangler)
Concept: you know how most media depicts Tolkien-style elves as being super jaded by immortality?
What if it was the opposite?
Like, you have stories where a sad thing happens and an elf cries for a hundred years, or where courtships last for decades, or what have you. Let’s run with that: part of the whole immortality deal is that elves’ emotional responses don’t attenuate as readily as humans’ do.
New relationship? The “heady infatuation” stage lasts for years, not months.
Heard an awesome song? Hearing it for the hundredth time is just as moving as hearing it for the very first.
Favourite food? Eat it for every meal and never get sick of it.
Basically, what I’m saying is imagine elves being really, really annoying because they respond
emotionallyto everything like they’re experiencing it for the very first time, even when you know they’ve seen it a thousand times before.
In addition to this: what we would conceive as ‘fads’ they get really into.
Like, a fashion trend kicks off and instead of moving onto the next big thing, elves make it The Only Way to Dress. As great as this is for mortals who love retro clothing, imagine Crocs and silly bands being popular for a century. Adult elves who still sit around trying to persuade their friends to trade a giraffe band for what they swear is a phoenix but is really a regular bird.
This doesn’t just apply to clothing so have some elves who never grew out of their scene phase. Emo elves who seriously introduce themselves as Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way or some similarly overwrought name.
Humans don’t know whether to be fascinated or amused at it all.
Humans think there are different subspecies of elves, but really they’re just different factions of incredibly devoted trendsters.
This is not exactly Dragaera, but there are certainly elements.
I could dig up the relevant quotes from “Arthabeth Finrod ah Andreth”, but this is strongly implied if not outright canon – that the very human trait of growing bored of something is something elves find very human and a bit incomprehensibly weird.
Then Taur-na-Fuin entangled my feet / in its mazes enmeshed; and madness took me / that I wandered witless, unwary stumbling / and beating the boles of the brooding pines / in idle anger – and the Orcs heard me. / They were camped in a clearing, that close at hand / by mercy I missed. Their marching road / is beaten broad through the black shadows / by wizardry warded from wandering Elves; / but dread they know of the Deadly Nightshade, / and in haste only do they hie that way.
Tolkien, J. R. R. The History of Middle-Earth III: The Lays of Beleriand. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. (London: HarperCollins, 2002.) 36. (The Lay of the Children of Húrin, Version 1, II “Beleg”)
(via gurguliare)
#ok so the critical takeaway here is that gwindor gets caught because#he’s banging on the pine trees yelling ‘FUCK THIS!!!’ ( @swampdiamonds )
It puzzles me when people cite LOTR as the standard of “simple” or “predictable” or “black and white” fantasy. Because in my copy, the hero fails. Frodo chooses the Ring, and it’s only Gollum’s own desperation for it that inadvertently saves the day. The fate of the world, this whole blood-soaked war, all the millennia-old machinations of elves and gods, comes down to two addicts squabbling over their Precious, and that is precisely and powerfully Tolkien’s point.
And then the hero goes home, and finds home a smoking desolation, his neighbors turned on one another, that secondary villain no one finished off having destroyed Frodo’s last oasis not even out of evil so much as spite, and then that villain dies pointlessly, and then his killer dies pointlessly. The hero is left not with a cathartic homecoming, the story come full circle in another party; he is left to pick up the pieces of what was and what shall never be again.
And it’s not enough. The hero cannot heal, and so departs for the fabled western shores in what remains a blunt and bracing metaphor for death (especially given his aged companions). When Sam tells his family, “Well, I’m back” at the very end, it is an earned triumph, but the very fact that someone making it back qualifies as a triumph tells you what kind of story this is: one that is too honest to allow its characters to claim a clean victory over entropy, let alone evil.
“I can’t recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I’m naked in the dark. There’s nothing–no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes.”
So where’s this silly shallow hippie fever-dream I’ve heard so much about? It sounds like a much lesser story than the one that actually exists.
+1
You know how Frodo leaves Sam with the legacy of the quest – the job of bearing witness to what happened – and the duty to finish and protect his writings?
Tolkien lost all but one of his friends in WW1. He was founder member of a literary club at school – the TCBS. There was a larger group and a core of four. They all stayed friends, they kept writing and sharing their work with each other. And they were almost all killed. One of them, Geoffrey Smith, wrote this to Tolkien in 1916.
My chief consolation is that if I am scuppered tonight – I am off on duty in a few minutes – there will still be left a member of the great T.C.B.S. to voice what I dreamed and what we all agreed upon. […] May God bless you my dear John Ronald and may you say things I have tried to say long after I am not there to say them if such be my lot.
And that was his last letter. There’s something eerie about the way he seems to have pegged Tolkien as an eventual survivor.Sam’s survival (and his emergence as the true hero of the book) are beautiful because they’re suffused with loss, because they’re not the grand conquering heroic narrative that on some level was “supposed” to happen.
“semi-scientific mythology of the ‘Prehistoric’”
Thank you, Professor Tolkien. I have the perfect tag to describe my Cuiviénen Fics now
