And no one would sell him gems;
He found ashes for fire, and his gay desire
For chorus and brave anthems
68
Met snores instead with all Norfolk abed,
And his round heart nearly broke,
More empty and cold than above of old,
Till he bartered his fairy cloak
72
With a half-waked cook for a kitchen nook,
And his belt of gold for a smile,
And a priceless jewel for a bowl of gruel,
A sample cold and vile
76
Of the proud plum-porridge of Anglian Norwich—
He arrived so much too soon
For unusual guests on adventurous quests
From the Mountains of the Moon.
80
It seems very possible that the ‘pallid minaret’ reappears in the ‘little white turret’ which Uolë Kúvion built on the Moon, ‘where often he climbs and watches the heavens, or the world beneath’. The minaret of the Man in the Moon survives in the final version.
The Ocean of Almain is the North Sea (Almain or Almany was a name of Germany in earlier English); the Yare is a Norfolk river which falls into the sea at Yarmouth, and the Nene (pronounced also with a short vowel) flows into the Wash.
IX
THE HIDING OF VALINOR
The link to this tale, which is told by Vairë, has been given at the end of the last (p. 195). The manuscript continues as in the latter part of The Tale of the Sun and Moon (see p. 197 note 19), with an earlier draft also extant, to which reference is made in the notes.
‘Lo, tales I tell of the deep days, and the first is called The Hiding of Valinor.
Already have ye heard,’ said she, ‘of the setting forth of the Sun and Moon upon their wayward journeyings, and many things are there to tell concerning the awakening of the Earth beneath their light; but hear now of the thoughts and deeds of the dwellers in Valinor in those mighty days.
Now is it to tell that so wide were the wanderings of those boats of light that the Gods found it no easy thing to govern all their comings and their goings as they had purposed at the first, and Ilinsor was loath to yield the heaven to Urwendi, and Urwendi set sail often before Ilinsor’s due return, being eager and hot of mood. Wherefore were both vessels often far afloat at one and the same time, and the glory of them sailing most nigh to the very bosom of the Earth, as often they did at that time, was very great and very terrible to see.
Then did a vague uneasiness begin to stir anew in Valinor, and the hearts of the Gods were troubled, and the Eldar spake one to another, and this was their thought.
“Lo, all the world is grown clear as the courtyards of the Gods, straight to walk upon as are the avenues of Vansamírin or the terraces of Kôr; and Valinor no longer is safe, for Melko hates us without ceasing, and he holds the world without and many and wild are his allies there”—and herein in their hearts they1 numbered even the Noldoli, and wronged them in their thought unwittingly, nor did they forget Men, against whom Melko had lied of old. Indeed in the joy of the last burgeoning of the Trees and the great and glad labour of that fashioning of ships the fear of Melko had been laid aside, and the bitterness of those last evil days and of the Gnomefolk’s flight was fallen into slumber—but now when Valinor had peace once more and its lands and gardens were mended of their hurts memory awoke their anger and their grief again.
Indeed if the Gods forgot not the folly of the Noldoli and hardened their hearts, yet more wroth were the Elves, and the Solosimpi were full of bitterness against their kin, desiring never more to see their faces in the pathways of their home. Of these the chief were those whose kin had perished at the Haven of the Swans, and their leader was one Ainairos who had escaped from that fray leaving his brother dead; and he sought unceasingly with his words to persuade the Elves to greater bitterness of heart.
Now this was a grief to Manwë, yet did he see that as yet his design was not complete, and that the wisdom of the Valar must needs be bent once more to the more perfect government of the Sun and Moon. Wherefore he summoned the Gods and Elves in conclave, that their counsel might better his design, and moreover he hoped with soft words of wisdom to calm their anger and uneasiness ere evil came of it. For clearly he saw herein the poison of Melko’s lies that live and multiply wherever he may cast them more fruitfully than any seed that is sown upon the Earth; and already it was reported to him that the ancient murmuring of the Elves was begun anew concerning their freedom, and that pride made some full of folly, so that they might not endure the thought of the coming of Mankind.
Now then sat Manwë in heavy mood before Kulullin and looked searchingly upon the Valar gathered nigh and upon the Eldar about his knees, but he opened not his full mind, saying to them only that he had called them in council once more to determine the courses of the Sun and Moon and devise an order and wisdom in their paths. Then straightway spake Ainairos before him saying that other matters were deeper in their hearts than this, and he laid before the Gods the mind of the Elves concerning the Noldoli and of the nakedness of the land of Valinor toward the world beyond. Thereat arose much tumult and many of the Valar and their folk supported him loudly, and some others of the Eldar cried out that Manwë and Varda had caused their kindred to dwell in Valinor promising them unfailing joy therein—now let the Gods see to it that their gladness was not minished to a little thing, seeing that Melko held the world and they dared not fare forth to the places of their awakening even an they would. The most of the Valar moreover were fain of their ancient ease and desired only peace, wishing neither rumour of Melko and his violence nor murmur of the restless Gnomes to come ever again among them to disturb their happiness; and for such reasons they also clamoured for the concealment of the land. Not the least among these were Vána and Nessa, albeit most even of the great Gods were of one mind. In vain did Ulmo of his foreknowing plead before them for pity and pardon on the Noldoli, or Manwë unfold the secrets of the Music of the Ainur and the purpose of the world; and long and very full of that noise was that council, and more filled with bitterness and burning words than any that had been; wherefore did Manwë Súlimo depart at length from among them, saying that no walls or bulwarks might now fend Melko’s evil from them which lived already among them and clouded all their minds.
So came it that the enemies of the Gnomes carried the council of the Gods and the blood of Kópas began already its fell work; for now began that which is named the Hiding of Valinor, and Manwë and Varda and Ulmo of the Seas had no part therein, but none others of the Valar or the Elves held aloof therefrom, albeit Yavanna and Oromë her son were uneasy in their hearts.
Now Lórien and Vána led the Gods and Aulë lent his skill and Tulkas his strength, and the Valar went not at that time forth to conquer Melko, and the greatest ruth was that to them thereafter, and yet is; for the great glory of the Valar by reason of that error came not to its fullness in many ages of the Earth, and still doth the world await it.2
In those days however they were unwitting of these things, and they set them to new and mighty labours such as had not been seen among them since the days of the first building of Valinor. The encircling mountains did they make more utterly impassable of their eastern side than ever were they before, and such earth-magics did Kémi weave about their precipices and inaccessible peaks that of all the dread and terrible places in the mighty Earth was that rampart of the Gods that looked upon Eruman the most dire and perilous, and not Utumna nor the places of Melko in the Hills of Iron were so filled with insuperable fear. Moreover even upon the plains about their eastward…3 were heaped those impenetrable webs of clinging dark that Ungweliantë sloughed in Valinor at the Trees’ destroying. Now did the Gods cast them forth from their bright land, that they might entangle utterly the steps of all who fared that way, and they flowed and spread both far and wide, lying even upon the bosom of the Shadowy Seas until the Bay of Faëry grew dim and no radiance of Valinor filte
red there, and the twinkling of the lamps of Kôr died or ever it passed the jewelled shores. From North to South marched the enchantments and inaccessible magic of the Gods, yet were they not content; and they said: Behold, we will cause all the paths that fare to Valinor both known and secret to fade utterly from the world, or wander treacherously into blind confusion.
This then they did, and no channel in the seas was left that was not beset with perilous eddies or with streams of overmastering strength for the confusion of all ships. And spirits of sudden storms and winds unlooked-for brooded there by Ossë’s will, and others of inextricable mist. Neither did they forget even the long circuitous ways that messengers of the Gods had known and followed through the dark wildernesses of the North and the deepest South; and when all was done to their mind Lórien said: “Now doth Valinor stand alone, and we have peace,” and Vána sang once more about her garden in the lightness of her heart.
Alone among all did the hearts of the Solosimpi misgive them, and they stood upon the coasts nigh to their ancient homes and laughter came not easily again amongst them, and they looked upon the Sea and despite its peril and its gloom they feared it lest it still might bring evil into the land. Then did some of them going speak to Aulë and to Tulkas who stood nigh, saying: “O great ones of the Valar, full well and wondrously have the Gods laboured, yet do we think in our hearts that something is yet lacking; for we have not heard that the way of the escape of the Noldoli, even the dread passage of Helkaraksë’s cliffs, is destroyed. Yet where the children of the Eldar have trodden so may the sons of Melko return, despite all your enchantments and deceits; neither are we in peace at heart by reason of the undefended sea.”
Thereat did Tulkas laugh, saying that naught might come now to Valinor save only by the topmost airs, “and Melko hath no power there; neither have ye, O little ones of the Earth”. Nonetheless at Aulë’s bidding he fared with that Vala to the bitter places of the sorrow of the Gnomes, and Aulë with the mighty hammer of his forge smote that wall of jagged ice, and when it was cloven even to the chill waters Tulkas rent it asunder with his great hands and the seas roared in between, and the land of the Gods was sundered utterly from the realms of Earth.4
This did they at the Shoreland Elves’ behest, yet by no means would the Gods suffer that low place in the hills beneath Taniquetil that lets upon the Bay of Faëry to be piled with rocks as the Solosimpi desired, for there had Oromë many pleasant woods and places of delight, and the Teleri5 would not endure that Kôr should be destroyed or pressed too nearly by the gloomy mountain walls.
Then spake the Solosimpi to Ulmo, and he would not listen to them, saying that never had they learnt such bitterness of heart of his music, and that rather had they been listening to whispers of Melko the accursed. And going from Ulmo some were abashed, but others went and sought out Ossë, and he aided them in Ulmo’s despite; and of Ossë’s labour in those days are come the Magic Isles; for Ossë set them in a great ring about the western limits of the mighty sea, so that they guarded the Bay of Faëry, and albeit in those days the huge glooms of that far water overreached all the Shadowy Seas and stretched forth tongues of darkness towards them, still were they themselves surpassing fair to look upon. And such ships as fare that way must needs espy them or ever they reach the last waters that wash the elfin shores, and so alluring were they that few had power to pass them by, and did any essay to then sudden storms drove them perforce against those beaches whose pebbles shone like silver and like gold. Yet all such as stepped thereon came never thence again, but being woven in the nets of Oinen’s6 hair the Lady of the Sea, and whelmed in agelong slumber that Lórien set there, lay upon the margin of the waves, as those do who being drowned are cast up once more by the movements of the sea; yet rather did these hapless ones sleep unfathomably and the dark waters laved their limbs, but their ships rotted, swathed in weeds, on those enchanted sands, and sailed never more before the winds of the dim West.7
Now when Manwë gazing in sorrow from high Taniquetil saw all these things done he sent for Lórien and for Oromë, thinking them less stubborn of heart than the others, and when they were come he spoke earnestly with them; yet he would not that the labour of the Gods be undone, for he thought it not altogether ill, but he prevailed on those twain to do his bidding in certain matters. And in this manner did they so; for Lórien wove a way of delicate magic, and it fared by winding roads most secret from the Eastern lands and all the great wildernesses of the world even to the walls of Kôr, and it ran past the Cottage of the Children of the Earth8 and thence down the “lane of whispering elms” until it reached the sea.
But the gloomy seas and all the straits it bridged with slender bridges resting on the air and greyly gleaming as it were of silken mists lit by a thin moon, or of pearly vapours; yet beside the Valar and the Elves have no Man’s eyes beheld it save in sweet slumbers in their heart’s youth. Longest of all ways is it and few are there ever reach its end, so many lands and marvellous places of allurement and of loveliness doth it pass ere it comes to Elfinesse, yet smooth is it to the feet and none tire ever who fare that way.
Such,’ then said Vairë, ‘was and still is the manner of Olórë Mallë, the Path of Dreams; but of far other sort was the work of Oromë, who hearing the words of Manwë went speedily to Vána his wife, and begged of her a tress of her long golden hair. Now the hair of Vána the fair had become more long and radiant still since the days of her offering to Aulë, and she gave to Oromë of its golden threads. Then did he dip these in the radiance of Kulullín, but Vána wove them cunningly to a leash immeasurable, and therewith Oromë strode swiftly to the gatherings of Manwë on the mountain.
Then calling loudly that Manwë and Varda and all their folk come forth he held before their eyes his thong of gold, and they knew not his purpose; but Oromë bid them cast their eyes on that Hill that is called Kalormë standing hugely in the lands most distant from Valinor, and is held most lofty save Taniquetil, yet seemeth therefrom a dim thing fading afar off. Even as they watched Oromë stepped back, and putting all his cunning and his strength thereto he made a mighty cast, and that golden cord sped in a curve through the sky until its noose caught Kalormë’s topmost pinnacle. Then by the magic of its making and the cunning of Oromë’s hand it stayed a bright golden curve and neither drooped nor sagged; but Oromë fastened its hither end to a pillar in Manwë’s courts, and turning to those who gazed upon him said: “Who then listeth to wander in the Great Lands, let him follow me,” and thereat he set foot upon the thong and sped like the wind out over the gulf even to Kalormë, while all upon Taniquetil were silent in amaze. Now did Oromë loosen the thong from Kalormë’s peak and run as swiftly back, ravelling it as he came, until once more he stood before Manwë. Then said he: “Lo, O Súlimo Lord of the Airs, a way I have devised whereby any of the Valar of good heart may fare whithersoever they list in the Great Lands; for whither they wish I will cast my slender bridge, and its hither end wilt thou securely guard.”
And of this work of Oromë’s came that mighty wonder of the heavens that all men look upon and marvel at, and some fear much, pondering what it may portend. Yet doth that bridge wear a different aspect at different times and in various regions of the Earth, and seldom is it visible to Men and Elves. Now because it glistens most marvellously in the slanting rays of the Sun, and when the rains of heaven moisten it it shines most magically therein and the gold light breaks upon its dripping cords to many hues of purple, green, and red, so do men most often name it the Rainbow, but many other names have they fashioned also, and the fairies call it Ilweran the Bridge of Heaven.
Now living Men may not tread the swaying threads of Ilweran and few of the Eldar have the heart, yet other paths for Elves and Men to fare to Valinor are there none since those days save one alone, and it is very dark; yet is it very short, the shortest and swiftest of all roads, and very rough, for Mandos made it and Fui set it in its place. Qalvanda is it called, the Road of Death, and it leads only to the halls of Mando
s and Fui. Twofold is it, and one way tread the Elves and the other the souls of Men, and never do they mingle.9
‘Thus,’ said Vairë, ‘was the Hiding of Valinor achieved, and the Valar let slip the chance of a glory more splendid and enduring even than that great glory which was theirs and still is. Nonetheless are there still very mighty tidings of those days to tell, of which perchance I may now recount to you a few; and one I will name The Haven of the Sun.
Behold, now are the hearts of all set at rest by the truce10 of Manwë and the Valar, and while the Gods feast in Valmar and the heaven is full of the ungoverned glory of the Ships of Light the Elves go back at last to rebuild the happiness of Kôr; and there they seek to forget all the sorrows and all the labours that had come among them since the Release of Melko. Now does Kôr become the fairest and most delicate-lovely of all the realms of Valinor, for in the courtyard of Inwë those two elfin trees shone still tenderly; and they were shoots of the glorious Trees now dead given by the Gods to Inwë in the first days of that town’s building. Others too had been given to Nólemë, but these were uprooted and were gone no one knew whither, and more had there never been.11
Yet even though the Elves trusted the Valar to shield the land and weave protection about them, and though the days of sorrow faring into the past grew dim, still could they not yet utterly shake away the memory of their unhappiness; nor did they ever so, until after the magic way of Lórien was complete and the children of the fathers of the fathers of Men first were suffered to come there in sweet sleep; then did a new joy burn very brightly in their hearts, but these things were not yet come to pass and Men were yet but new-wakened on the Earth.
The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1 Page 29