The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1

by J. R. R. Tolkien

  Then Manwë bid him unhand the herald, but the Gods arose crying with one voice: “This is no herald, but a rebel, a thief, and a murderer.” “He hath defiled the sanctity of Valinor,” shouted Tulkas, “and cast his insolence in our teeth.” Now the mind of all the Elves was as one in this matter. Hope they had none of the recovery of the jewels save by the capture of Melko, which was now a matter beyond hope, but they would have no parley with Melko whatsoever and would treat him as an outlaw and all his folk. (And this was the meaning of Manwë, saying that the death of Bruithwir would be the root of the greatest evil, for it was that slaying that most inflamed both Gods and Elves.)8

  To this end they spoke in the ears of Varda and Aulë, and Varda befriended their cause before Manwë, and Aulë yet more stoutly, for his heart was sore too for the theft of so many things of exquisite craft and workmanship; but Tulkas Poldórëa needed no pleading, being hot with ire. Now these great advocates moved the council with their words, so that in the end it is Manwë’s doom that word he sent back to Melko rejecting him and his words and outlawing him and all his followers from Valinor for ever. These words would he now speak to the envoy, bidding him begone to his master with them, but the folk of the Vali and the Elves would have none of it, and led by Tulkas they took that renegade to the topmost peak of Taniquetil, and there declaring him no herald and taking the mountain and the stars to witness of the same they cast him to the boulders of Arvalien so that he was slain, and Mandos received him into his deepest caves.

  Then Manwë seeing in this rebellion and their violent deed the seed of bitterness cast down his sceptre and wept; but the others spake unto Sorontur King of Eagles upon Taniquetil and by him were the words of Manwë sent to Melko: “Begone for ever, O accursed, nor dare to parley more with Gods or Elves. Neither shall thy foot nor that of any who serve thee tread the soil of Valinor again while the world endures.” And Sorontur sought out Melko and said as he was bidden, and of the death of his envoy he told [?too]. Then Melko would have slain Sorontur, being mad with anger at the death of his messenger; and verily this deed was not in accord with the strict justice of the Gods, yet was the anger of those at Valmar sorely tempted; but Melko has ever cast it against the Gods most bitterly, twisting it into a black tale of wrong; and between that evil one and Sorontur has there ever since been hate and war, and that was most bitter when Sorontur and his folk fared to the Iron Mountains and there abode, watching all that Melko did.

  Now Aulë goeth to Manwë and speaketh enheartening words, saying how Valmar still stands and the Mountains are high and a sure bulwark against evil. “Lo! if Melko sets once more turmoils in the world, was he not bound in chains aforetime, and so may be again:—but behold, soon will I and Tulkas fill that pass that leads to Erumáni and the seas, that Melko come not ever that way hither again.”

  But Manwë and Aulë plan to set guards about all those mountains until such time as Melko’s deeds and places of abode without become known.

  Then does Aulë fall to speech with Manwë concerning the Noldoli, and he pleads much for them, saying that Manwë wrought with anxiety has done hardly by them, for that of Melko in sooth alone is the evil come, whereas the Eldar are not slaves nor servants but beings of a wondrous sweetness and beauty—that they were guests for ever of the Gods. Therefore does Manwë bid them now, an they will, go back to Kôr, and, if they so desire, busy themselves in fashioning gems and fabrics anew, and all things of beauty and cost that they may need in their labour shall be given to them even more lavishly than before.

  But when Fëanor heard this saying, he said: “Yea, but who shall give us back the joyous heart without which works of loveliness and magic cannot be?—and Bruithwir is dead, and my heart also.” Many nonetheless went then back to Kôr, and some semblance of old joy is then restored, though for the lessened happiness of their hearts their labours do not bring forth gems of the old lustre and glory. But Fëanor dwelt in sorrow with a few folk in Sirnúmen, and though he sought day and night to do so he could in no wise make other jewels like to the Silmarils of old, that Melko snatched away; nor indeed has any craftsman ever done so since. At length does he abandon the attempt, sitting rather beside the tomb of Bruithwir, that is called the Mound of the First Sorrow,* and is well named for all the woe that came from the death of him who was laid there. There brooded Fëanor bitter thoughts, till his brain grew dazed by the black vapours of his heart, and he arose and went to Kôr. There did he speak to the Gnomes, dwelling on their wrongs and sorrows and their minished wealth and glory—bidding them leave this prison-house and get them into the world. “As cowards have the Valar become; but the hearts of the Eldar are not weak, and we will see what is our own, and if we may not get it by stealth we will do so by violence. There shall be war between the Children of Ilúvatar and Ainu Melko. What if we perish in our quest? The dark halls of Vê be little worse than this bright prison….”9 And he prevailed thus upon some to go before Manwë with himself and demand that the Noldoli be suffered to leave Valinor in peace and set safely by the Gods upon the shores of the world whence they had of old been ferried.

  Then Manwë was grieved by their request and forbade the Gnomes to utter such words in Kôr if they desired still to dwell there among the other Elves; but then changing from harshness he told them many things concerning the world and its fashion and the dangers that were already there, and the worse that might soon come to be by reason of Melko’s return. “My heart feels, and my wisdom tells me,” said he, “that no great age of time will now elapse ere those other Children of Ilúvatar, the fathers of the fathers of Men, do come into the world—and behold it is of the unalterable Music of the Ainur that the world come in the end for a great while under the sway of Men; yet whether it shall be for happiness or sorrow Ilúvatar has not revealed, and I would not have strife or fear or anger come ever between the different Children of Ilúvatar, and fain would I for many an age yet leave the world empty of beings who might strive against the new-come Men and do hurt to them ere their clans be grown to strength, while the nations and peoples of the Earth are yet infants.” To this he added many words concerning Men and their nature and the things that would befall them, and the Noldoli were amazed, for they had not heard the Valar speak of Men, save very seldom; and had not then heeded overmuch, deeming these creatures weak and blind and clumsy and beset with death, nor in any ways likely to match the glory of the Eldalië. Now therefore, although Manwë had unburdened his heart in this way hoping that the Noldoli, seeing that he did not labour without a purpose or a reason, would grow calmer and more trustful of his love, rather were they astonished to discover that the Ainur made the thought of Men so great a matter, and Manwë’s words achieved the opposite of his wish; for Fëanor in his misery twisted them into an evil semblance, when standing again before the throng of Kôr he spake these words:

  “Lo, now do we know the reason of our transportation hither as it were cargoes of fair slaves! Now at length are we told to what end we are guarded here, robbed of our heritage in the world, ruling not the wide lands, lest perchance we yield them not to a race unborn. To these foresooth—a sad folk, beset with swift mortality, a race of burrowers in the dark, clumsy of hand, untuned to songs or musics, who shall dully labour at the soil with their rude tools, to these whom still he says are of Ilúvatar would Manwë Súlimo lordling of the Ainur give the world and all the wonders of its land, all its hidden substances—give it to these, that is our inheritance. Or what is this talk of the dangers of the world? A trick to deceive us; a mask of words! O all ye children of the Noldoli, whomso will no longer be house-thralls of the Gods however softly held, arise I bid ye and get you from Valinor, for now is the hour come and the world awaits.”

  In sooth it is a matter for great wonder, the subtle cunning of Melko—for in those wild words who shall say that there lurked not a sting of the minutest truth, nor fail to marvel seeing the very words of Melko pouring from Fëanor his foe, who knew not nor remembered whence was the fountain of the
se thoughts; yet perchance the [?outmost] origin of these sad things was before Melko himself, and such things must be—and the mystery of the jealousy of Elves and Men is an unsolved riddle, one of the sorrows at the world’s dim roots.

  Howso these deep things be, the fierce words of Fëanor got him instantly a mighty following, for a veil there seemed before the hearts of the Gnomes—and mayhap even this was not without the knowledge of Ilúvatar. Yet would Melko have been rejoiced to hear it, seeing his evil giving fruit beyond his hopes. Now however that evil one wanders the dark plains of Eruman, and farther south than anyone had yet penetrated he found a region of the deepest gloom, and it seemed to him a good place wherein for the time to hide his stolen treasure.

  Therefore he seeks until he finds a dark cavern in the hills, and webs of darkness lie about so that the black air might be felt heavy and choking about one’s face and hands. Very deep and winding were those ways having a subterranean outlet on the sea as the ancient books say, and here on a time were the Moon and Sun imprisoned afterward;10 for here dwelt the primeval spirit Móru whom even the Valar know not whence or when she came, and the folk of Earth have given her many names. Mayhap she was bred of mists and darkness on the confines of the Shadowy Seas, in that utter dark that came between the overthrow of the Lamps and the kindling of the Trees, but more like she has always been; and she it is who loveth still to dwell in that black place taking the guise of an unlovely spider, spinning a clinging gossamer of gloom that catches in its mesh stars and moons and all bright things that sail the airs. Indeed it was because of her labours that so little of that overflowing light of the Two Trees flowed ever into the world, for she sucked light greedily, and it fed her, but she brought forth only that darkness that is a denial of all light. Ungwë Lianti the great spider who enmeshes did the Eldar call her, naming her also Wirilómë or Gloom-weaver, whence still do the Noldoli speak of her as Ungoliont the spider or as Gwerlum the Black.

  Now between Melko and Ungwë Lianti was there friendship from the first, when she found him and his comrades straying in her caves, but Gloomweaver was ahungered of the brightness of that hoard of jewels so soon as she saw them.

  Now Melko having despoiled the Noldoli and brought sorrow and confusion into the realm of Valinor through less of that hoard than aforetime, having now conceived a darker and deeper plan of aggrandisement; therefore seeing the lust of Ungwë’s eyes he offers her all that hoard, saving only the three Silmarils, if she will abet him in his new design. This she granteth readily, and so came all that treasury of most lovely gems fairer than any others that the world has seen into the foul keeping of Wirilómë, and was wound in webs of darkness and hidden deep in the caverns of the eastern slopes of the great hills that are the southern boundary of Eruman.

  Deeming that now is the time to strike while Valinor is yet in uproar nor waiting for Aulë and Tulkas to block the passage in the hills, Melko and Wirilómë crept into Valinor and lay hidden in a valley of the foothills until Silpion was in bloom; but all the while was Gloomweaver spinning her most lightless webs and ill-enchanted shades. These she lets float down so that in place of the fair silver light of Silpion all about the western plain of Valinor there creeps now a dim uncertain darkness and faint lights waver in it. Then does she throw a black cloak of invisibility about Melko and herself and they steal across the plain, and the Gods are in wonder and the Elves in Kôr are afraid; nonetheless they do not as yet suspect the hand of Melko in this, thinking rather it is some work of Ossë’s, who at times with his storms caused great mists and darkness to be wafted off the Shadowy Seas, encroaching even the bright airs of Valinor; though in this he met the anger both of Ulmo and of Manwë. Then Manwë sent forth a sweet westerly breath wherewith he was accustomed at such times to blow all sea-humours back eastward over the waters, but such gentle breathing availed nothing against the woven night heavy and clinging that Wirilómë had spread far abroad. Thus was it that unmarked Melko and the Spider of Night reached the roots of Laurelin, and Melko summoning all his godlike might thrust a sword into its beauteous stock, and the fiery radiance that spouted forth assuredly had consumed him even as it did his sword, had not Gloomweaver cast herself down and lapped it thirstily, plying even her lips to the wound in the tree’s bark and sucking away its life and strength.

  By accursed fortune this deed was not straightway marked, for it was the time of Laurelin’s accustomed deepest repose; and now behold, never more would it wake to glory, scattering beauty and joy upon the faces of the Gods. Because of that great draught of light suddenly pride surged in Gwerlum’s heart, and she heeded not Melko’s warnings, but sate herself now nigh to the roots of Silpion and spouted forth evil fumes of night that flowed like rivers of blackness even to the gates of Valmar. Now Melko takes the weapon that remains to him, a knife, and will injure the bole of Silpion as much as time will allow; but a Gnome called Daurin (Tórin) wandering from Sirnúmen in great boding of ill sees him and makes for him, crying aloud. So great was the onrush of that impetuous Gnome that ere Melko is aware he has hewn at Wirilómë where in the likeness of a spider she sprawls upon the ground. Now the slender blade that Daurin wielded came from the forge of Aulë and was steeped in miruvor, or never had he done harm to that secret [?being], but now he cleaves one of her great legs, and his blade is stained with her black gore, a poison to all [?things] whose life is light. Then Wirilómë writhing throws a thread about him and he may not get free, and Melko ruthless stabs him. Then wresting that bright slender blade from his dying grasp he thrusts it deep into Silpion’s trunk, and the poison of Gwerlum black upon it dried the very sap and essence of the tree, and its light died suddenly to a dismal glow lost in impenetrable dusk.

  Then did Melko and Wirilómë turn in flight, nor is it too soon, for some that were behind Daurin seeing his fate fled in terror both to Kôr and Valmar, stumbling madly in the darkness, but indeed already the Valar are riding forth upon the plain speeding as fast as may be yet too late to defend the Trees which they now know to be in danger.

  Now do those Noldoli confirm their fears, saying how Melko is indeed the author of the mischief, and they have but one desire and that is to lay hands upon him and his accomplices ere they can escape beyond the mountains.

  Tulkas is in the van of that great hunt leaping surefooted in the dimness, and Oromë may not keep up with him, for even his divine steed cannot rush as headlong in the gathering night as does Poldórëa in the fire of his wrath. Ulmo hears the shouting in his house in Vai, and Ossë [?thrusteth] his head above the Shadowy Seas and seeing no longer any light come down the valley of Kôr he leaps upon the beach of Eldamar and runs in haste to join the Ainur in their hunt. Now is the only light place left in Valinor that garden where the golden fountain sprang from Kulullin, and then were Vána and Nessa and Urwen and many maids and ladies of the Valar in tears, but Palúrien girds her lord as he stands impatiently, and Varda has ridden forth from Taniquetil by her lord’s side bearing a blazing star before him as a torch.

  Telimektar son of Tulkas is with those noble ones, and his face and weapons gleam as silver in the dark, but now all the Gods and all their folk ride this way and that, and some have [?hasty] torches in their hands, so that the plain is full of pale wandering lights and the sound of voices hallooing in the dusk.

  Even as Melko speeds away a vanguard of the chase sweeps by the Trees, and well nigh the Vali faint for anguish at the ruin they see there; but now Melko and certain of his comrades, aforetime children of Mandos, are separated from Ungwë, who wrapped in night gets her gone southward and over the mountains to her home, nor does that chase ever draw nigh to her; but the others flee northward with great speed, for Melko’s comrades have knowledge of the mountains there, and hope to get [?him] through. There came a place at length where the shadow-veils were thin and they were viewed by a scattered band of the Vali, and Tulkas was amongst them; who now with a great roar leaps at them. Indeed it might have come to battle upon the plain betwixt Tulkas and Melko h
ad not the distance been overgreat, so that even as Tulkas gained to within spearcast of Melko a belt of mist took the fugitives again and the mocking laugh of Melko seems to come first from one side and then from the other, now from his elbow almost, now from far ahead, and Tulkas turns wildly about and Melko slips away.

  Then Makar and Meássë rode in all haste north with their folk, arousing Mandos and ordering the guarding of the mountain paths, but either Makar was too late or Melko’s cunning defeated him—and the mind of Makar was not oversubtle, for no glimpse of that Ainu did they see, though assuredly he did escape that way, and worked much evil after in the world, yet none are there whom I have heard tell ever of the manner of his perilous flight back to the ice-kingdoms of the North.’

  NOTES

  1 See p. 117.

  2 Lirillo appears in the list of secondary names of the Valar referred to on p. 93 as a name of Salmar-Noldorin.

  3 ‘father of Fëanor’ is the final reading after a prolonged hesitation between ‘son of Fëanor’ and ‘brother of Fëanor’.