Chapter Text

The Music of the Ainur

It's worth asking whether those early chapters should at all be included. It's not a lore obtained directly from the Valar, but mostly a compilation of fragments remembered by those who had all too many reasons to remember things wrong. And even though the memory of the Eldar is without flaw in its natural state, under the influence of the Enemy it may not be wholly so.

And even assuming that these text are exactly what those who had spoken directly to the Valar remember (and not second-hand knowledge censored by fearful, tired historians, and also by political agendas) — it would still need filtering and cutting everything that is not Rúmil's early writings, because, though it is rarely admitted, much of the lore about the subtler things comes directly or less directly from the Enemy.

The Valar were not so willing to talk, or rather: were willing but their tales were long and difficult to listen to. Not many of the Eldar asked, too, as most were content to learn about things more relevant to them. Especially the Noldor.

Maybe the Vanyar know more.

Of the Noldor the most about those matters, as about many others, had probably been known by Feanáro, but he is dead and all his knowledge is gone with him. (The second might have been Finrod, but whatever he had written about it, if anything, is lost. It is said that there had been some scrolls, brought to Sirion eventually, and that Pengolodh burned them. Even if he had not, they would likely have burned during the Third Kinslaying, so he is not entirely to blame about this.)

[p1] Even in the very first sentence the redacted text would not stand scrutiny by more knowledgeable of the Eldar. "In the beginning" is an extremely muddy phrase, and implying that time had existed before the Music is controversial, and implying that it had existed before the Ainur is almost certainly wrong. And as for the relationship between the names of "Eru" and of "Ilúvatar", trying to get this explained by any of the Ainur would result either in frustrated waving of hands, or a long discussion of Valarin grammar, and encouragement to learn the language (which proved impossible even for Feanáro, and it would probably have been better for everyone if he never had tried).

But yes, in the practical sense this is obviously true, and practical matters are what interests most of the Noldor, so possibly this is not such a bad way to begin.

[p1] The origin of the Ainur and how are they different from Eruhini (except the obvious lack of inherent bodies) is another topic about which many books could be written and it would still remain unexplored.

When asked whether or not some of the Ainur came later than others, most of them answer affirmatively, often with the reservation that time in the strict sense had not existed yet.

[p4+] The Music was not like music that we know, of course, but the music that we know and make is like the Music. This is what was said by the Ainur.

[p7+] Similarly, when those stories were told by the Ainur, they had no mentions of Ilúvatar rejoicing or crying. They had, however, used particular musical harmonies in the recitation, joyful or sad or terrifying, the only way of putting which into words seems to be as Rúmil, and after him Pengolodh and others, does it — by saying that He had smiled and so on.

[p2] The text speaks of the Theme (which is widely assumed to be the same as the First Theme later) as if it had a beginning and a set ending, but whenever asked what the original ending would be, the Ainur went silent and could not, or did not want to, reply.

[p2] Trying to get any knowledge from the Ainur about what the Flame Imperishable is resulted in surprise (as if the Eldar should have known this already) and encouragement to learn Valarin.

Surely however it is not the same as the light imbued in the Silmarils, which were much less, and now are lost except for the Star of Hope, and many things are said about them that are not true.

[p4] The text describes the Great Music spilling into the Void as if the concept of space applied to Timeless Halls. And yet, how could it be said better? Maybe in terms of harmonics, of music emerging from the intermingling of tones, which is none of the original tones, but something more. Some of the Ainur had spoken like this about it. Some had spoken more in terms of space indeed. Some in yet different images.

It may as well be that the very question "What is the Void?" is absurd in its nature, is false if a question may be false indeed. Many questions seem false, or at least lacking an answer that would be possible to accept. Surely the Music could have not stirred the Void and brought anything therefrom, no matter what some would say, because it was beautiful and beauty cannot give rise to terror.

Still, it would be wise to address the questions that had been asked by some, or at least try to address them. And the questions do arise. How could anything created be mighty enough to almost devour Morgoth back when he had been still powerful? How could darkness, which — as is said among the wise — is but an absence of light, be made real? What is the Void, what was in the Void and what had happened when the Music had spilled therein?

And yet, there must be some answer we do not know, because if the Music that originated everything we know, had been foul enough to awaken such creature, then all hope is lost — even worse: the hope had never been true to begin with. If we are to come to any useful conclusions, we must first assume a world in which such conclusions are possible. Therefore no, I say still: Ungoliant was not of the Music, or at least not of the Music Unmarred.

And so, the questions remain open.

[p4] The Second Music. This is a concept mostly sourced from the Maiar of Mandos (though Manwë had confirmed the geneal idea behind it), and therefore all the lore is obscure and seemingly contradictory. It is also worth admitting that various redactions of the text went back and forth on whether to suggest the presence of the Elves there or not. There is no clear source on this, or if there was a source, it had been lost.

Regardless, there remains a hope that maybe some of the Elves, most of them even, would participate therein.

[p5+] Needless to say, any discussion of the motivations of Melkor is purely speculative, and motivated either politically, when the redactors wanted to ascribe perceived faults of their opponents on him; or philosophically, giving him those character trait that the redactor considered the vilest. Oftentimes both.

It should maybe be added that Pengolodh hated the concept of a lead singer in a performance, much preferring choral music, and also personally had a bias against some of the persons involved in the more hierarchical singing, for the reason of the divide among the Noldor.

Despite the politics, he had not been entirely wrong, as history has later shown.

[p5] [p5] The problems with the concept of the Void have already been discussed. Those are not things that were widely investigated by the Noldor back when they had the opportunity. Would it be better had they been, or maybe it would result in even worse tragedies than focusing on jewels and weapons? This is one of the questions that remain unanswered.

[p6+] It is worth appreciating that none of the redactors provided a list of the Ainur who tried to align their voices to Melkor, especially those who later moved away from his themes. Back in the Years of the Trees there was much gossip among the Noldor about such matters, and as with many things, it would have been better if there had been none, and most of it sourced from Melkor himself, the sower of distrust and divide.

[p7+] Trying to describe the Themes in terms of music that we know, or rather — to grow our understanding of the music by understanding a part of what they had been — would require many books, and written by someone whose heart can comprehend the purity of those Themes. (I dare to hope, sometimes, that maybe Daeron came to Aman eventually, one way or another. ) The Great Music, and speculations about it, has already inspired many works both theoretical and musical, of varying quality.

[p3, p10] Another question that cannot be answered but must be discussed is: how it is possible, at the same time, that the Ainur could add into the Music their own ideas, and yet that there is no theme possible to play that would not originate in Ilúvatar.

The tiny pieces of answer that had been acquired from the Ainur, try to explain it by the nature of time, or rather, the timeless and time-transcending nature of Eru. But most of the Ainur clearly admitted to not knowing the answer, or at least (in the case of Mandos) to not be able to share it (even if it was possible to put it into words).

Regardless, this question had been widely discussed by the philosophers in Aman.

[p16] As for things new and unexpected for all of the the Ainur occurring in each Age, one of such things had been (as was said in Aman) the marriage of Melian and Elu Thingol. However, even though the text would suggest so, it is very unlikely that everything relating to the Eruhini is such a thing. No, considering things like the Doom of the Noldor, it is clear that much about the Elves — and maybe even the Men — is within the foreknowledge of the Ainur.

[p16] The reaction of the Ainur to the Children is a part of the text confirmed by many of the Ainur, and therefore trustworthy. They had always been joyful talking about us, until the darkness came to the hearts of the Noldor.

[p17] The unreliability of any discussion of Melkor's motivation had already been mentioned. It would be wiser to avoid those speculations altogether, except maybe his will to have slaves: this has been well proven by the later events.

[p18] The Sea. Oh, the Sea… These notes do not, however, require an addition of an ode to the music of the waves.

[p19+] It is worth noting that Melkor being the most skilled of the Valar is not sourced from him only but mostly from Manwë himself. However, much of the conversation between Manwë and Ulmo is very likely based on tales from Ossë, who had been very willing to share them back before he began to hate the Noldor. How trustworthy a source he is, is unclear, but the story sounds believable and at least Rúmil's version of the early history had been checked with Manwë at some point, so this is likely true, even though the Valar here are presented as very Elf-like, for the purpose of entertainment of the reader.

[p25 (new section)] It would be useful if the line about Darkness was commented on by someone competent and capable of analyzing it with a clear mind. It is very debatable. Maybe it should be removed altogether.

[p31+] The description of the Valar laboring on the young Arda is well-sourced and well-confirmed, and does not need additional notes. It may be, however, worth adding that they did neither sing it into forms, nor work with their hands, like the Children do. In those early days the forms of the Valar were mostly close to the matter of Arda itself and they moved seas, and mountains, and clouds, as a person moves their own body. Only later did they grow more accustomed to forms reflecting Eruhini, and it was said (even as late as when Melkor had killed the Trees) that they had still been learning, or maybe seeking their truest shapes. Anyway, in those early days they had been bigger and in some ways simpler, it seems.

[p33] All of the Ainur are in some sense siblings, but some are more so. Manwë has at least at some points referred to Melkor as his twin brother, also Mandos and Lórien and Nienna are also referred to as siblings, same with other pairs of siblings as rightfully stated later in the book. There are also siblings among the Maiar, but the Maiar are so many that there is no point in trying to describe all of them, and the choice to mention only the most relevant ones is a reasonable decision.

[p35] It has been widely debated what Melkor had been doing in the outer reaches of Eä after he fled from Arda, but clearly the only source that could provide this information, is not trustworthy at all.

Among those who'd been in Gondolin and met Maeglin and his sword (as the number of those who'd met his sword's twin and lived to tell the story, is very meager) it was said that the black blade had a particular cold malice to it, and the "star" from whose heart it had been made must have been tainted deeply by Morgoth, or rather Melkor as he was then called. The only time when he had the opportunity was likely the time described here.

[p36] As already mentioned, the Valar took Eruhini-like forms only at some point in time. The text presents it as a singular event, but actually it had been a gradual series of changes.

[p38 and the last] I appreciate mentioning the sources, even though done only at the very end of the tale.

Chapter Text

Valaquenta

The Valar

[the introduction] The beginning of the text repeats (in shorter and even more bastardized form) the beginning of the previous text, whose many concerns had already been addressed.

[p1-2 of the proper chapter] The numbering of the Valar and exact order of their importance is a work of Eldarin scholars, mostly Rúmil. The Valar themselves mostly refused to engage with such comparisons. Melkor, of course, had had many things to say in those matters, which we shall not waste the ink for.

[p2]The line of his name no longer being said is a hyperbole. But in civilized places it is never spoken publicly, even when discussing him at all, which is rare, as should be.

[p3 (new section)] The line about Manwë being most loved… It may be sourced from some Maiar, it may be sourced from Melkor, but the most likely reason why it was put in the text is political. It needs to be said that often, when discussing the relationships between Elder King and his dark brother, certain loremasters use them (of which very little is known, as Manwë is very private) to discuss their opinions about Feanáro and Nolofinwë, and how they should be treated, disguising them as innocent philosophical musings.

Even in the iconography Melkor was, during that period, and especially shortly after the Darkening, often portrayed with features more like Feanáro than his own. It does not need saying that this was beyond cruel.

It should be noted, however, that Nolofinwë has never encouraged those comparisons.

[p4] The notes about the encounter of Varda and Melkor before the Music is, again, invented for unknown reasons. He did fear her though, and he seemed to have a peculiar reaction to light, especially the noblest lights, that was like greed and hate and lust at the same time. (If I were to guess based on what is told, I would say that this part originated in Gondolin, and was also politically motivated. But guesses are not historical facts. And even if the political idea that the redactor was trying to suggest was not entirely wrong, such means to convey it are unacceptable.)

[p4] The description of Manwë and Varda's senses is, of course, a simplification. It does, however, reflect an important truth: of all the Valar those two seem to know the most about happenings on Arda, except only Mandos, but he cannot tell most of what he knows.

[p5+] Most of the lore about Ulmo is sourced from Ossë, who, as has been said, liked to talk. It is most likely true, except maybe the more subtle matters which he never was much interested in, or occasional self-aggrandizing by Ossë, but this has likely been redacted out of the text, as it has always been widely known that he does it.

[p6]The line about Ulmo never having abandoned the Elves… I am not in a position to question it. And those who maybe would question it, are in the Halls of Waiting, sent there by Ossë, or, more likely, had been long ago reembodied.

[p6] The description of Ulmo and some fragments there seem to be sourced from Tuor, and therefore trustworthy.

[p8] Aulë, oh, he deserved better than all of his best students falling into darkness. Regardless, the text here is correct and doesn't need any additions.

[p9] Oh yes, the actual names of Mandos and Lórien. These notes very likely show how rarely are they used. It would be best if a proper scholar corrected them.

[p10] The lore is correct until the point of foreknowledge of Námo, where the text again falls into a trap of simplifications. And yet, what else can it do? When asked about the limits of such knowledge and whether Ilúvatar had decided all that is to happen or not yet, Mandos gave a lengthy discussion of the nature of time, the difference between knowing a thing and influencing it, and freedom of the created beings. (It was after he was asked whether Miriel Therinde would return or not. Unfortunately but understandably, Finwë didn't write down those words or repeat them to anyone in detail.)

[p11] What does it exactly mean that Estë is sleeping, is not known and sadly, nobody had investigated it much back in the Years of the Trees. She had been seen, and she looked like a deep asleep Elf, unmoving, but surely the Valar need not sleep. It is puzzling.

[p12] The lore about Nienna is correct, things said here align with what she herself had said (she did not, of course, compare her power and Estë's. The Valar do not do that except to call someone mightier or more noble than themselves.) Nienna is one of the Valar most willing to talk, or maybe easiest to approach. Her house is austere and somewhat gloomy, but she readily takes as guests any of the Eldar who happen to wander on such far outskirts of Aman. Or at least she used to. Maybe even her mercy has limits, and maybe her tears ran out eventually, after enough blood had been shed. I do not know.

She is not easy to hear in the mortal lands.

The rest of the section on the Valar is correct, except maybe the power structure, which seems again like a Noldorin writer trying to ascribe our habits to the Valar.

The Maiar

[p2] The second paragraph very notably ignores Melian, which probably needs explanation. After she had married Thingollo (which had been known in Aman, as there were tidings going between the lands back then), her status in the eyes of many other Maiar, and many of the Eldar also, was very unclear. Some considered her almost fallen, though nobody said it plainly, not until Melkor came among the Noldor and started sowing unrest.

Even after his betrayal, she was not universally trusted. But there will be places in the text later better suited for this discussion.

[p3+] Ossë and Uinen very likely gave the description themselves, it is clearly seen by how kind it paints Uinen to be, as if she was not the one who drowned many of the Noldor even though the Valar allegedly had forbidden that. She does usually restrain Ossë, this much is true. But for a marriage to work well there must be a certain similarity of characters and values… and this is probably enough to be said.

They do however both have some amount of mercy. Or at least can be merciful if it is crueler to do so than to take revenge plainly and let their victim find death in the water.

[p4] The line about why Melkor hated the sea is very clearly from Ossë, it is a thing he used to brag about often. Also, the idea that only he had been at fault and Uinen had always been wholly faithful to Ulmo's orders is the kind of lie Ossë would readily say.

[p5] I do not have anything to add about Melian, except what had already been said and what will be said in later parts, in regards to opinions of others about her.

And as for Olórin, I'm certain you have better sources available, and I would assume they have already been consulted. It would make good use of their time.

The enemies

[p1+] Not much can be certainly said about Morgoth, obviously, and this blend of poetics and obvious facts seems just right, if he even needs describing here.

[p3] It is not known how he convinced the Balrogs and others to serve him. Lies must have certainly be a part of that, but as for the rest, everybody's guesses are equally good.

[p4] It is worth noting that the information that Sauron had served Aulë before came from Aulë himself, he gave it without prompting long before it could be known how important would Sauron be. Long ago, when the Noldor became restless and wanted to return to Beleriand, Aulë warned them about his once-student, who dwelled therein continuing the deeds of Melkor.

(The Noldor then asked why Sauron hadn't been captured during the War, and why hadn't the Valar done anything about him, and to that Aulë had no answer.)

And yet, nobody had yet expected how cruel and how terrible he would be.

Chapter Text

There isn't much to be added here. Again, this is a story retold from what was told in Aman, mostly by various Maiar, and also by Vairë.

[p1+] The story of wars of the Valar is, in particular, based on a longer and more detailed narrative of those wars that Vairë gave when Melkor was to be freed, and the Valar finally decided to provide information of what he is, and how is he related to them. They had not been entirely silent before, but before they only answered when asked and it was fragmented, with plenty of "I will not speak of it freely unless I consult with the others" and such. (About some matters even Ossë was not so willing to talk back then, likely due to his involvement.)

Also, as this is the story as Vairë told when Melkor was assumed to be repentant, it is likely to lack some more gruesome details, out of badly-aimed mercy and forgiveness.

[p3] The plants that grew in those times were strange and they do not exist anymore anywhere in Middle Earth. They do grow in some parts of Aman, however. (Some plants here are related to those, especially those small flowerless plants like ferns and horsetails.)

[p4] The knowledge about Melkor having spies among the Maiar was obtained mostly from those of such spies who later returned to service of the Valar (Ossë was not one of them; he never went that far. Anyway, giving their names now would not be proper, as they have been faithful ever since.)

[p4-6] Again, the story goes far into ascribing incarnate-like needs and motivations to the Valar.

When thinking of Tulkas or Aulë being tired, we must think rather of tiredness of the mind, when it cannot focus after going through some repetitive chore over and over, not of tiredness of the body, and especially not, as the text suggests, of the effects of too much wine. The sleep of Tulkas was more like a great joy that removes much of the usual perceptiveness, and even, it is said, somewhat like a prayer.

[p5] It is not know what exactly the wedding of Tulkas and Nessa was, or rather: in what ways that what happened between them was similar to a wedding of incarnates. Tulkas was asked about that once and with laughter said that it had been too beautiful to be put to words, and Nessa did not reply but Oromë strongly insisted on not asking his sister about private matters, under the threat of being banned from his hunts. There has been since then lot of pointless speculation about it.

[p7+] The details of Utumno were also obtained from the once-spies. Also, much about Morgoth's doings, especially later when he gained that name, was told by Sauron to Eonwë as part of his "surrender", and later told by Eonwë to scholars among the Vanyar, and they have written it down with other stories, sadly without noting what came from which source, and passed it to Círdan, among others. As it comes from the Enemy, it is to be read with caution.

Actually, a correction is needed: many parts of the earlier story of building of Utumno and such probably have a similar origin, that is were told by Melkor himself as he pretended to repent, and later mixed with properly-sourced histories. Therefore, the parts of the story that have not been witnessed by the Valar and the faithful Maiar cannot be trusted.

[p8] Did the Valar refrain from making Arda again beautiful because, as it is said, they were not sure when the Firstborn would come, or were they simply too disheartened? This is not clear, and nobody asked them directly, because only a few had been rude enough to ask such questions, and those few had more pressing issues to ask about. But guessing based on some remarks made by Aulë would lead to considering the possibility, at least, that they had indeed been too tired and waited, and only then it became too late.

[p9+] The building of Valinor and leaving the rest of Arda devoid of their presence was also a controversial decision, and many things had been said and written about it, and all those were, it seems, removed from the text. Was this a wise decision? Not judging those greater than us (even if our hearts break and wail, torn by their actions that seem so plainly wrong and unjust) is one thing, but ignoring the questions is another, and I daresay that only the first of those is wise.

Would later events be happier had they stayed? Or would Melkor destroy everything again and mar their happiness even more? He had done this anyway. But it is easy to judge the decisions of others after they had been made and gave rise to tragedy. It is more difficult to make decisions when their results are yet unknown.

What has, happened has happened, and even the Valar cannot change the past, so further discussion of this is pointless.

Still, it needs to be said, that many of the Eldar, especially the Noldor, believed that it had been a wrong decision for the Valar to move West then, and this topic was a huge controversy in the late Years of the Trees.

[p12+ (new section)] Valinor, oh, Valinor. Those words don't give justice to its beauty, but none words in earthly languages could do that. It's like seeing the most beautiful pearl in the whole sea, and then trying to draw it with a piece of coal from the campfire, to make people who had never seen the Sea understand what a pearl is.

On a second thought, it would not be surprising if some of the Eldar tried doing that. With singing it would be possible, not that difficult even for someone skilled. And here we have only words available, and how one could put such beauty into a song, and a song into words, and make those words fit into a book? It's not possible.

On an other unrelated thought, at least nobody had died due to writing a book. On yet another, sometimes dying in a honorable way is not an entirely bad thing, and of all the descendants of Finwë, Ingoldo was the first to be able to walk in those lands again.

Excuse my digressions.

[p12] It is quite clear from the story (which is a faithful one in this part, and has been told like this since long) that Nienna did foresee, or at least forefeel, the death of the Trees when they were only sprouting. Why didn't she tell anyone?

As has been said, it is unwise to blame the Valar. But is it wrong to ask questions?

If she knew — if more of them knew, as they do know many, many things — why didn't any of them say anything, give any warning?

[p13+] The Trees. One mere sight of them— it changed a person.

[p19 (we skipped a section)] Again, the editor decided to give a hierarchy of who loves whom the most.

Indeed, the Vanyar are most like Manwë , with their poesy and gentleness that is not a weakness, but to say that he loves them most… I suppose it hinges on the definition of love. Is he more loved who is more like the one who loves him, who makes him the happiest — or is he more loved who gets torn from the most terrible place, even though maybe undeserving, even though a murderer? Even despite the doom itself? (He told me once, not long after it happened, "On one hand, the Valar love us. On the other—" and laughed like one fey.)

The Vanyar never gave Manwë such opportunities to love them as others do, and this is a wonderful thing for them.

Anyway, such comparisons do not make sense, and have no place in a historical text.

It is also not true, as the text seems to suggest, that only the Vanyar are interested in poetry and song. They do however practice it in ways most similar to Manwë: a beauty of sounds, rhymes and alliterations, with meaning being secondary, or at least complimentary to it. Noldorin poetry is, in contrast, focused on double- and multiple meanings, subtext and referencing other texts in ways that add to the meaning. Telerin poetry is almost always improvised, dialoguing with the audience. Or rather, they do not fully follow the separation between the audience and the singer. They focus on emotions, not achieved by the beauty of sound nor by the meaning of words, but simply felt and shared mind-to-mind.

[p21] Another note on sources: yes, Oromë was doubtlessly visiting Middle Earth often, and did much for its protection, and while his way of thinking is not much more tactical than that of Tulkas, yet his descriptions of how Melkor's taint had looked are a great source. Still, not much even in Rúmil's text, if anything, is sourced from Oromë himself, rather from his Maiar. Oromë does not like to tell stories, even to his followers. He prefers to act.

[p23 (new section)] The note about the Gift of Men is one of the most difficult fragments.

It is said— but it's never said by whom it is said. Most likely Rúmil got this …information from one or more of Maiar of Mandos, but it is not known where did they get it from. It is possible that, like Mandos, they simply know things, but unlike him are sometimes willing to share them. At least with Rúmil. Not everyone had been so successful with obtaining any facts from them, even facts of more practical relevance.

It had been, however, known even before the Men arrived that they would in some way be able to leave Arda, and that they would be strange, and some variant of that tale of Ilúvatar's monologue had been circulating among the loremasters even back then.

The version here seems more detailed than Rúmil's, is it sourced via early Númenor? Eonwë spoke with those Men a lot, and I would assume one of the topics was their nature. If this came from him, it is obviously trustworthy and should be quoted as verbatim as possible. But I do not need to tell you that.

[p23]What is exactly meant by the fates of others (Elves, and I would assume also the Ainur?) being shaped by the Great Music is a mystery, which is just as impossible to penetrate as it is pressing. And what does it mean for the Men to be exempt from that? This is not a discussion to be had via letters.

And yet, if our fates are prescribed by the Music from the beginning— no, surely it must not be so. Surely the fault is ours.

What does this passage mean, then?

Forgive me to bother you — and about that. If you could maybe tell me where this passage is sourced from, if you have such knowledge, and if those are Eonwë's words, maybe you could provide the original?

But back to proper editorial notes: Rúmil's version of this was significantly more vague.

[p24] Whoever wrote that part about Men giving Manwë the most sorrow (surely not Pengolodh, he would write something more accurate here, even if out of malice) clearly hadn't had much experience with some of the Noldor. Even those Men of the late Númenor (besides: those chapters I will not annotate due to lack of first-hand knowledge and other reasons) committing atrocities in the name of Melkor… it was less vile than the Oath which Fëanor and his sons have sworn. Melkor, at least, deserves the association with such deeds. Even speaking only about the grieving of Manwë: Ar-Pharazôn had never called him to watch him.

Chapter Text

[p1+] It was said… The origin of the Dwarves was, of course, firstly told to the Eldar by Aulë himself, otherwise the story would not became known. He had told it very concisely, and it was later expanded on based on extrapolations and, it would seem, poetic license. Later part of the story is sourced from tales of the Dwarves, and their various tribes do not agree on some of the details.

[p14+ (second section)] The story of Yavanna's conversation with Manwë is very dubious.

Chapter Text

[p2+] The role and early administration of Angband is either an educated guess, or– I don't think it needs saying, where this information might came from, as there are not many possibilities. Regardless, those are very basic assumptions, unlikely to be false.

[p4+] The conversation here between the Valar was later recounted by various Maiar, it is one of those parts that was retold often and eagerly.

[p10] The descriptions of Cuivenen given here match well what was told by those who remembered it.

[p13] The tendency of the Valar to be surprised by what they should have been expecting, mentioned here, fits well with their behavior. But do the Eldar not do that also?

[p15] The claim that Melkor had known about the Elves first seems based on simple observation, but it was also something that Melkor himself often said, albeit with no mentions of hunting and tormenting them. Him being the most observant of the Valar is definitely sourced from Melkor.

[p17] I would remove the rhetorical question of "Who had reached the depths of Utumno", because it cannot be read without thinking that the Valar might have done that, they had the opportunity — but chose not to. How many had been left there—

Well, at least the next time they did more. This is all that should be said about that.

But we have not even reached the description of destroying of Utumno yet. Excuse my out-of-orderness. And commenting on which I have no right to comment.

[p17] The speculation about orcs had been intense among the Noldorin scholars in late YoT, and not without the influence — or rather many influences, leading it in different directions, as if to tear the debate apart — by Melkor himself.

The audacity to casually discuss his vilest deeds, and yet hide them under the layers of indirectness, under the guise of simply sharing knowledge, under the pretenses of remorse… One day and in one place he would say that orcs are but automatons, less alive than trees or flowers. In other he'd suggest that they're Elves, trapped inside their disobedient bodies. On other occasions he would say different things, too terrible to quote.

And "the wise" listened and debated.

It must be, however, said, that the orcs are clearly dangerous and none of their words is to be trusted, and even if one chooses to take an orc captive instead of slaying it, it must be well tied and guarded.

[p21+] Have the Valar really regain control over Arda, then or ever? Whether or not they freed the Quendi from Melkor's shadow is even more debatable. On one hand, we are not in the position to judge the Powers. On the other hand, it seems impossible to look at what they had been told to do and to not feel that they failed horribly. They brought both Melkor and the Eldar into one place, and what did they expect? Peace?

[p22] Many earlier remarks could be repeated here: ascribing motivations to Melkor based on unknown source and such.

[p26] It is worth noting that three centuries mean 300 years of the Trees, which is an amount of time equal to many more modern-day years, about 2700 of them. Still, it was not enough.

[p27+] I will not comment more of the motivations of the Valar to invite the Elves to Valinor, or the outcome of that decision. What has been said has been said, and I believe that they had good intentions, and it is not our duty or our right to judge their wisdom or lack thereof.

[p31] I have no idea who wrote that all of the Eldar revere Ingwë, this is clearly untrue; was not true in the First Age. He is the king of all the Eldar in Aman — or at least had been before the Flight of the Noldor, but I doubt it would change — and was well respected there and even by many of the exiles. Far from all, however, and some few had even grown to mock him viciously. Also among the Moriquendi Ingwë was, for obvious reasons, not widely known even from tales, and their attitudes towards Elves in Aman were not always reverent. (It was said that Eöl had many such critical opinions, but with the amount of strange things that were said about him, this is not particularly trustworthy and probably should not be included.)

Hyperboles are good for poetry, not for historical accounts.

[p32] I would suggest changing "wisdom" to something more akin to the ancient meaning of the word "ñoldo", which is not tied with making good moral decisions, but with practical skill. This would prevent many wrong expectations forming in the minds of the reader.

Few of the Noldor are wise in the current sense of this word — those few who have never left Aman. The rest are simply skilled.

[p35+ (2 last sections)] The descriptions of the Great March portray the Elves as more cowardly than the ones I've heard, but my sources may have been biased.

Chapter Text

I will give only the most basic corrections, you clearly have better sources to consult about Doriath. (I hope you will be able to hide from Artanis the fact that I am also helping. If not, my sincerest apologies. But on the other hand, maybe she would be even more eager to help, if only to counterbalance my point of view.)

[p1] I will not complain about hyperbole in the description of Melian, it is probably close to truth, and even if it was not, it deserves to be written in there. (Also, many of the Maiar had spoken of her in those tones, even if not in such absolutes.)

The rest of this chapter is absolutely correct.

Chapter Text

[p1+] This book could use more maps, even rough. Maybe Círdan could sketch some?

[p9] There is nothing to be added to much of this chapter, Tirion of course cannot be described in any way that would do it justice.

[p12] With all due respect to whoever translated this, the proper transliteration is Miriel Therinde. This poor woman deserves some respect (and she liked the sound of her name in this form), she has no fault in the deeds of her descendants.

[p20 (we skipped a section)] The descriptions of the wanderings of Fëanor and his sons seem to echo the descriptions of the wanderings of Melkor — and it might be not entirely unfounded, even if written out of malice — but it was not curiosity of the Unknown that led them. It seemed more like a necessity, a question that cannot be answered by anything in Aman, and therefore, the answer must be sought elsewhere. Or, to phrase it more simply, grief.

It would had been better, maybe, probably, if Fëanor had simply given up. But I do not believe that he could.

[p20] And then, gazing beyond the edge of Arda, into the Darkness — did they awake something that later was to devour them, or had it always been in their hearts? It is a strange coincidence, it would seem, that Ungoliant had never been mentioned or encountered before, and that nobody besides those closest to Fëanáro (and allegedly Morgoth) ever encountered her up close.

And yet, nor the empty blackness, nor Lady Nienna who lives near it, was able to give an answer on why did Miriel Therinde die, why did it have to be so, and Námo was not willing to give one. Or maybe he did not know either.

Some had said (and I do not mean Pengolodh, but a more trustworthy source) that Melkor's touch was on Fëanáro from the beginning, that he had always felt the darkness calling him, no matter how much he tried to resist. But it is also known that even the memory of the Eldar can be corrupted with enough pain and enough vileness, and he suffered both.

Chapter Text

[p1] Rúmil's alphabet was very lacking. But maybe better than simply critiquing it, it would be to add an illustration of it to the book, so that the readers might see it by themselves. It was beautiful in concept, but chaotic and inconvenient.

[p3] Again: it is Therinde. Of all the language issues this is the one that matters. She deserves it. Please.

[p9+] Of the many works of Fëanor… if only the best of them were to be described, this chapter would still be longer than the rest of the book. But mostly he worked on language — improving it, learning other languages, comparing them to one another — and jewels. It was often said later that it would have been better if he focused more on the former. But this shows a lack of understanding. Had he been less skilled with words, maybe things would not go that horribly.

Words are a weapon, a deadly one; more than deadly. And a chain, too.

Disregarding even this, his linguistics studies often inspired his craft projects — and the other way around too. Those two cannot be easily separated.

[p12] Regardless what Pengolodh says about it (as if he was not a follower of Nolofinwë!), even with everything that came to pass, I would never exchange it for a world in which Finwë had not remarried. This is not to be included in the text, obviously. But his criticism of the marriage should be removed. I strongly advise doing so.

[p13 (new section)] Again, all the descriptions of what Melkor felt in various situations need to be removed. They are either guesswork, and therefore have no place in such text, or sourced from the enemy (one or the other), and therefore have even less of a place.

Let his actions speak for themselves. They are beyond enough.

[p15] Manwë not understanding evil, at least not understanding it in some ways, is however a fact confirmed by Manwë, as it was said, and widely believed in Aman.

Why then is he the king of Arda, and not, for example, Ulmo, is not a question that can be answered, or should be pondered too much, but it is a question that naturally arises. Or maybe rather: it arises and is fine to ponder as a question, but not as a suggestion that it should be not so.

Yet, Manwë's choices have caused much suffering and it is difficult, sometimes more than difficult, to imagine how could it have been worse if someone more stern had been making the decisions.

[p16] Indeed, Fëanor had never listened to any advice, nor from Melkor, nor from anyone else, nor even from his own family (except maybe, as it is said, his wife. But it must have been early, or in private.)

I'm not sure whether I can give as much commentary as this and the following chapters deserve. Do not feel obliged to read them if it is too much. Maybe I should have addressed this to your translators directly.

Chapter Text

[p1] Did Fëanáro really perceive that the death of the Trees was nearing? It is unknown. Melkor was still chained when the work on the Silmarils began. It lasted for many, many years and Fëanáro didn't talk much about the whys and hows of it — he never did — but there were signs.

Admiring Telperion and asking one of the Maiar whether the Tree would be able to bear fruit indefinitely, and why would it not exhaust its strength. (We knew, of course, about the wells of light and the circulation of it.) All of them staring dumbfounded, some laughing. Fëanáro's fists clenched, hidden in the sleeves, hard as ice. (This is not an "it is said": I held one of those hands.)

Standing above his notes —a mixed set of many topics, as he often had on his desk— almost yelling "Why cannot anything be eternal? It was supposed to be so!", ordering the children to leave the room (which, as I later learned, meant that he had probably spent the next hours crying).

Measuring the intensity of the Treelight (he had constructed many devices for it) as it approached the Western edges of Valinor, noting them down, comparing the change in strength with the speed of the Light's fading in other directions.

There were many portents if anyone had known how to read them as anything besides "prince Fëanáro is restless again".

There were breaks too, other studies, usually leading to some new inspiration for his main work. Times of leisure, especially the earliest childhoods of his sons were calm.

And yes, the work was at least in part secret, there was a forbiddance to talk about many things even to his half-brothers and their families.

[p2] The part about Fëanáro being in the Halls of Waiting is an "it is said", I suppose? It must be, I can't think how this could be well-sourced.

[p2] The question of whether the Silmarils are alive, and to what extent, has been a topic of heated discussions since their making. They seem (based on observations and words of the Valar) to be alive in same way as the Trees had been, of which they are the heirs. They did feel as if they loved the light and many other things (not hated anything, not back then, only later they learned to hate), yes, it was almost like touching another mind.

It is likely that they do suffer from the separation. Fëanáro often spoke about his jewels as if they were one object, one work, and treated them in this way. Wearing them separately (for example by different people — he did let some others wear the jewels in the early years after their creation) had been never entertained as an idea. And yet it has been said early on, even though vaguely, that their fate is intertwined with the elements of Arda — we should have guessed that they would be separated eventually.

We had been young and terrible at guessing. And later, when there wasn't much left to guess, we simply became terrible.

I would suggest adding a note on the color of the Silmarils, as there seems to be some confusion among artists.

Also, initially Fëanáro had meant for them to be silver, born of Telperion only. He had lost months trying to achieve it. Only after he decided to blend both, did the work start progressing again. And, even more importantly, his relationships with his step-family also improved.

Later Melkor stole both of those.

[p5] It is unknown what caused the Valar to not tell the Eldar in advance that the Men were bound to come to the world. There were many discussion thereabout, and unfortunately most of them tainted by Melkor's dissent. It seems entirely possible that they had not deemed it relevant (as the Eldar were not supposed to leave Aman), or assumed that the Eldar had known. The Valar used to make assumptions like this one, convinced that some things are simply universally known despite the lack of teaching. It was not an entirely false conviction even, as for example the moral law had been always known to the Eldar in their hearts, even before they had met Oromë, and for a long time later, until they became tainted by Melkor. Or maybe by their own choices.

[p5] Whichever of the editors believed himself so knowledgeable about Melkor as to detail to us which parts of the Music he had paid attention to and why, I almost want to see this brilliant historian explain his interpretations to the Dark Vala himself, even back in the days of his faked civility.

I can see where this extrapolation comes from, and indeed there was a particular mix of what seemed like disdain and curiosity in Melkor whenever he spoke about the Men, but this does not prove anything.

[p6] The same can be said about Melkor hating Fëanáro most of all. Who knows whom he hated the most, and is there even any difference to it? It is not worth discussing. Though, Fëanáro surely gave him many reasons for hate and for envy, for he was great, and unbending, and more brilliant than Melkor himself.

[p6] The Silmarils were not happy in the dark treasury. They always loved their maker though, no matter how he had treated them. Maybe they understood that he did it only out of love, as he wanted their safety more than anything, even at the cost of their freedom.

In the end, they had neither of those two.

[p9] Spears had been made before, during the Great March, but those were simple spears for hunting, and not battle-spears. Swords were indeed an entirely new invention. (There had been elements similar to fencing in earlier sports, but those involved ribbons to bind the opponent, not anything to hit him with. Still, some of the techniques transferred well to sword-fighting.)

[p11+] The description of the dissent and Fëanáro pulling a sword is accurate.

The questioning of Fëanáro and others was long, it lasted for days (with breaks, of course) and many grew impatient. But the matter was complicated, and the Valar were never known for their brevity.

[p19] This is a good place to mention one of the peculiarities of Mandos. Even though he knows everything, or nigh everything, he seems not very capable of understanding or predicting the reactions of incarnates, or at least the Eldar, to his words.

Asking Fëanáro to remember who and what he was, however well-meant and wise in the intent, in his ears must have sounded like "remember that you are worth nothing, you are a child of no marriage and a killer of your mother, and all that you have is ours and we can take it away as we please." (Fëanáro didn't say this, of course, but he had said enough between various conversations for this to be understood. And if he is not going to come back from wherever he is until the end of Arda, then the discussion of the pain that burdened him seems more educational than cruel, as there are many people similar in this aspect to Mandos, who keep talking when it would be wiser to be silent. Too often some well-intentioned but mistimed words lead to a tragedy.)

[p26] I wish that the part about Fëanáro wavering and almost trusting Melkor included a source, whoever was so brilliant as to discern his inner thoughts from a loud dialogue, overheard probably from some distance (as nobody was close to them at that time), surely deserves their name to be widely known. And while the mysterious writer likely was either wise enough to have stayed in Aman, or, more likely, is now dead and in the Halls, or having passed through them and reconsidered their deeds, is alive again, I still hope someone has a conversation with him about this fragment.

Also, it is my advice to remove those speculations.

Chapter Text

[p1] I appreciate that the work abandons the convention of telling the reader what Morgoth (or Melkor as he was technically still known as) thought, and says "Manwë realized" instead. It is especially important in such a poorly-sourced part of the text. If those are Manwë's opinions, then those speculations are more trustworthy than I previously thought. He doesn't say things lightly.

I will, therefore, give the redactors the benefit of doubt and assume that the road which Morgoth took and at least part of the events (clearly not the conversation) comes from this source.

[p2+] There had been many discussions regarding the nature and origin of Ungoliant, mostly during the Long Peace. The speculation that she was (hopefully "was", not "is") a particularly mighty fallen Maia is the least worrying of the things that were proposed. It is a smooth, clean-cut hypothesis, good for a history book. If we ignore such questions as "how did she stay hidden and unknown for so long, even though the other strange servants of Melkor had been known to the Valar at that point?", or "How was it possible for her to overcome him?" it seems possible to believe, at least by a reader who had not been there.

To what extend had she ever been real, is another question, and a difficult one. On one hand, how can something exist that is evil in its very nature, that is nothing but Darkness, devouring and destroying? On the other, how can something that is not real destroy a thing that is real?

Once, back when there was happiness in Aman, and Ingwion was young, he made a long argument claiming that evil cannot exist, because there is nothing Ilúvatar cannot do, surely, but at the same time He cannot do evil. Some laughed, some were puzzled by his syllogism… The reactions are not the point here. The point is the paradox. It has not been resolved in any satisfying way since.

I am not sure where the descriptions of Ungoliant's dwelling and her existence — or rather, presence — before the event came from. Likely gossip from some Eldar who had been close to Oromë, repeating second- or third-hand tales. Which they probably would better have forgotten. Being so invested in discussing monsters cannot be good for anyone, even if those discussions are the only thing tying them to the happier past. (But it was not solely Tyelcormo, and, despite everything that later came to pass, I would risk saying that among his company he was not the worst.)

[p4] Not many had seen Morgoth's form and lived. He was large, but even moreso, he felt large. Terrible, mighty, suffocating. Too Eldar-like in looks to be seen as a beast, but too beastly and warped to be seen as a person. Similarly in behavior. If a rotting, poisoned wound could talk pleasantries, or if a king during a diplomatic meeting could casually talk the vilest cruelties, and not only talk— No, the readers deserve much better than to get even an attempt of description of him.

He was terrible. He is now gone. That's all the book needs to say.

[p5+] I should not mention this, nobody should, I the least of them— but it must be said, to be revealed as a lie and slander, because there is a possibility that there are still writings that contain such speculations. It has been said more than once, though mostly by those who had, as I later learned, deep and terrible reasons to lie in such a way, that the shadows dancing around Lúthien felt not unlike Ungoliant's. It is the vilest of lies and made for the vilest of reasons, but maybe also out of fear.

And yet, there is something, some connection between darkness and weaving. Vairë is the mistress of the Halls of the Dead, and the best known broidress of all has died in the very Undying Lands, giving so much light away that nothing remained for her… Webs of fabric and webs of doom are not unlike, and Darkness is a knot that cannot be untied.

But, of course, some dooms are good and holy, and some shadows are more beautiful than the sunrise. And if anyone dares compare those two, I might find him and tell him the story in more detail. As an educational experience.

[p5] About the feast: yes, the Valar do eat and participate in physical activities — or at least they used to, but I cannot see why would they stop. It is apparently a controversial statement to some historians nowadays, but it was a common occurrence, same for the Maiar. Except, obviously, some of such activities. Melian's marriage was, as it's been said, considered scandalous or worse by some.

[p10] Despite the unrest and the absence of Finwë, and the mood of Feanáro, the beginning of the celebrations was very peaceful. After Nolofinwë's apology, Feanáro even suggested that he was willing to let Ingwion visit his house again, as long as he refrained from talking about philosophy (Ingwion had in the meantime learned to navigate Noldorin culture much better, likely thanks to Ingoldo). But soon after this, the Light started fading.

[p19 (new section)] Whoever wrote about the Darkness being a real thing, created at that moment… No, I shall not threaten him. I assume from the writing that he had been there. Therefore he had experienced more than enough fear for all his life. Regardless, those are not wise words, and should not be spread.

But yes. This is how it seemed, this is how it felt. This— I hope nobody else shall experience anything like that ever again. I dare not to hope— Forgive me. I should restrict this to the relevant facts. I will try.

Chapter Text

[p6, p11] As has been said, the Valar do not always understand the hearts of the Eldar very well, Námo especially. As for Tulkas, he is much better as a friend and as a wrestler than as a diplomat. I do not believe that, as was later suggested, any of the Valar had made Feanáro furious on purpose.

[p11] The description of his reading of the situation seems right, at least as right as can be made without his direct contribution. He spoke about those things later, more than once, and he was convinced that the Valar would try to take the Silmarils by force.

[p16, p11] Why did the Valar let Melkor murder Finwë in their land? Had they not known? But even if Manwë did not see it, surely Mandos had known that it was going to happen, unless the webs of Ungoliant can stop even his eyes — his memory of the future — but how could that be possible? How powerful would she have to be to do that?

Or at least why didn't he speak more clearly after the deed had been done?

Would that have prevented anything? Maybe not. But at least it would have been honest.

[p17] The supposition that Morgoth planned to murder Feanáro is extremely optimistic, not to say naïve. It has been already said that Morgoth himself cannot be trusted as a source, but if there is a single statement of him that could be believed — especially one that he made it to someone whom he expected to never be able to spread the story — he would have done way worse.

In a way Finwë had been lucky. And even though Feanáro greatly grieved not having stayed in Formenos with his father, if was for the better.

(The Oath would have been made anyway in some form, I think. He was not the only one desperate for revenge, and if anything had happened to him, I cannot even fathom what we'd do.)

[p17] Surely no son had ever loved his father more than Feanáro did. Surely if Finwë had decided to jump head-first into the Darkness, Feanáro would not only follow him, but also he would later be able to forgive him. That is, however, not relevant as he never had the opportunity, and Finwë was in the Halls, with no pain anymore other than the deeds of his descendants. (Hopefully he has not learned much about those.)

[p18] What would have happened had Feanáro agreed to give up the Silmarils — that is one of the questions that many have asked and elaborated on and nobody can answer, except maybe Mandos, but he will not tell.

It does not matter anyway, except maybe as an advice for future generations. If the Valar ask you to break your own heart, do it. It shall break anyway, and this way you would at least seem to have a choice. No, this is too bitter a way to say it. But i cannot think of a different one.

On a second thought, all of the people involved in the translation know all this incomparable better than I ever did. And should not be pressured to write about such matters. We could maybe conclude from this that the world is getting slightly better, at least. The pain is still there, but at least many are noble enough to face it without spilling it to everybody else. There is hope in that. And the world — well, most of it — deserves hope.

But back to the events of the Darkening.

[p19+] The whole story of Morgoth's quarrel with Ungoliant is, contrary to what it may seem, not pure poetic license. It was said, many times, among the Noldor later, that some who had wandered near to Lammoth heard things in the echo of the scream, or had fervent, terrible dreams, and in all those horrors there were common elements, and the story provided here is in accord with those elements, and with the stories told early. It must, however, be noted that all this is still essentially guesswork.

The Balrogs running like a lightning of dark flame were seen from the distance by some of the Elves, though their story reached the Noldor only much later.

Clearly, nobody knows what happened to Ungoliant after — if the question even makes any sense.

[p24 and others; p27] The mention of Morgoth's hands staying blackened came, of course, from those who saw him when he eventually was defeated. As for the pain, it is speculation, but it was seen at various points that he seemed to feel pain of those burns, and I don't see why he would feign this. As for the other descriptions, I again find them dubious.

[p29 (new section)] Arafinwë with his immediate family and most of his followers stayed long with the Valar, likely because the Vanyar were there. (Fortunately, he returned early enough to prevent bloodshed in Tirion.)

The events lasted probably a couple of days — the lengths of Sun days, I mean, not Days of the Trees — and Feanáro had buried his father before he returned to Tirion. It did not, however, ease his pain and rage, rather the opposite.

[p32-33] I believe that Feanáro believed (having heard from Morgoth, though indirectly) that the Men were naturally resonant with Morgoth, and would soon become his allies. I hope this helps understand his jealous attitude towards them.

How much of this belief has since proven true is an open question. Clearly, some of the Men are noble and stand against the Darkness better than any of the Noldor ever has, except maybe Finrod (who is half Teleri and quarter Vanyarin, and only considered a Noldo because it is counted via the male line). And yet, many of the Men do vile things, and on average they all seem quick to evil.

More things have been said about the Men, and there have been, it is said, stories about what had occurred between Morgoth and them (which must have been somewhere close to the period currently discussed), but all the knowledge I have of those texts is a whispered allegation of destruction of historical documents, without, sadly, much information on the events contained in them.

[p34] I highly appreciate not quoting the Oath in the text.

There are other possibilities, of course: it could be stripped of the worst parts as is done in the most common version of the Lay of Leithian. But this, however poetically satisfying, paints those who swore it in a better light that they deserve, and also makes some of the later events more difficult to understand.

Of all the evils committed by any of the Elves — and likely Men also — this was the worst, and the mother of many others.

[p35-36] The debate was long and deeply personal at times. It was also pointless, as the worst had already been done. Well, maybe not, maybe the whole rest of the Noldor could have been saved. Still, to us it seemed pointless. What is the benefit of knowing that you are in the wrong after you had committed all your being to it already? But no, we did not know back then, we did not understand, it would be only long after. Yet, there was been a feeling already, a feeling as if we had died, but in some way worse than dying. Maybe. As I said, the memory can be misleading when the heart is dark enough.

I wish the Valar had simply struck the eight of us dead there and then. It would have been a mercy. Or later maybe, when the family was not near, when there was no risk of anyone deciding to avenge us.

[p40] I don't think Nolofinwë's reasons for leaving Aman are presented with complete honesty. He also wanted to see the distant lands, and, above everything else, he had sworn to follow his brother. It is given as last of his reasons, but I think it was the first.

[p42] The text is unclear here, but the banishment from Aman was pronounced on everyone who had sworn the Oath. (No, I am not having this discussion again. )

[p47] Praising Olwë for never having welcomed Morgoth in his lands is an interesting choice, considering that Morgoth had never shown any interest of visiting them, or interacting much with the Teleri in general.

[p51] I don't think the decision to seize the ships only after most of his host had arrived, was the result of Feanáro thinking tactically. He was not in the mind to calculate like this. He simply grew more and more desperate there behind the city walls, marching back and forth, cursing, hoping at times that Olwë would change his mind, until he no longer could bear it and had to act in whatever way possible.

[p51-52] The Teleri had no swords, and they initially were much more hesitant to attack other Elves in a way that could lead to injury.However they soon reached for their fishing spears, which gave them an advantage of distance, so important when fighting on ships. They also had bows. That is why, despite their lack of experience in fighting, they were quite effective until the arrival of Fingon.

[p52] Uinen has killed many of the Noldor. I am not saying she was entirely wrong in doing so (but she did disobey the Valar, which means she was at least partially wrong), but I think it should be said more clearly. She killed them.

[p52] I appreciate the acknowledgment. (But, with all due respect, I hope that your translator is not planning to translate the song also?)

[p54] To banish you and later tell you that if you do not return, you shall shed tears unnumbered— I try to not judge the Valar, as I am clearly not at the position to do it, but sometimes it is difficult. It all came to pass, of course, but just like the darkness of Ungoliant, no matter how much the curse destroys and poisons, it does not diminish.

At least, if the words of the Valar can be taken in a literal way, the spirits of the dead — all of them — went to the Halls and stayed there. It is deeply comforting.

It came to pass, all of it.

[p56] Oh, the naivety of Feanáro, assuming that there were no cowards among his host, among his family even.

[p59] The ships were not lost due to any errors of the Noldor — Feanáro had been quick to learn how to deal with them, and the others not slow either — but due to Uinen (and maybe Ossë too, I don't know) drowning them.

[p61] Before his deed on Thrangorodrim, Fingon had never, I think, been called "the Valiant" as an honest compliment. He had been given this name sometimes, but half-mockingly, and sometimes he'd been simply called "the Reckless". I think Maedhros referred to him thus because he was worried that Fingon would go alone through the Helcaraxë and perish, and he hoped that Feanáro would understand this and have pity on his half-nephew. (We didn't think that more would dare to try crossing the Ice, or that it was possible to survive it.)

Chapter Text

As I already said, Galadriel could (if she would) comment on many of those things better. [p2] As for the Dwarves, I think many of them even now know more about their history than we ever did.

[p8] Why haven't the Valar destroy all those evil creatures? I do not know. It is also not known why the forces of evil expected Morgoth's return, how did they know the time of it. But for this I think there is a clear logical explanation. It would however imply that Sauron was able, even then, to spy on the communication between Melian and Aman, or — even worse — that some of the spies were still hidden among the Maiar, because the 300 year term had been set only after Melkor had been taken to Valinor, so it could not be easily overheard.

[p10] It may be worth noting that the Noldor never particularly cared about making chain mail, as it is not the fairest looking of armor types, nor the most convenient.

[p12 and others] As I said, ask Círdan to make some maps, otherwise it will be difficult to read for those who do not know the geography well.

[p13] You will probably say that I should not criticize Daeron for disappearing, but it is a pity that he did. His knowledge was incredible, and likely surpassed anyone in Doriath except its rulers (those are his words, but I believe them).

[p15] Nobody had actually seen Ungoliant there, in the mountains, or at least nobody survived to tell the story. It was said, yes, but without proof. And I do not see how something powerful enough to slaughter the Trees would be stopped by Melian's power.

That land was poisoned and vile, yes, but I believe it must have been only an echo, or something caused by Morgoth. Unless Ungoliant had lost much of her power in the meantime, but where would it go? I will not speculate, for those guesses are based on what I feel and what I fear, not on anything that could be explained.

[p19] Again, the redactor claims to know what Morgoth had expected or not expected.

Chapter Text

[p1] I appreciate sourcing the "it is said", though putting the marring of Feanáro as worse than killing the Trees sounds more like something Arafinwë would say, not the Vanyar. But he was with them during the War, when, I assume, they told the story to the Edain.

If Manwë had known how great Feanáro could have became, then why didn't he do anything to protect him? It is a cheap grief to cry over a butterfly captured by a spider but to never lift a finger. Those tears do not weigh anything, the tears of poets, talking about sorrow but never touching it.

But I do not need, and have no right to lecture you about that. (Also, I am not sure how much of this comment should be added to the text.)

[p7] How convenient it must have been to have an excuse not to act. The Men, oh, the Men. Whom the Valar never otherwise seemed to care about. How comfortable it must have been, to hide in their fortress and leave everyone else to Morgoth. We got the Moon and the Sun, of course. They surely changed a lot.

There was one exception, yes. But sometimes, when it gets really dark, I wonder: was this really mercy? Or simply a part of our punishment? He asked this question at times, and I gave him the proper, easy answers, but were they true?

[p9] I wonder what Celegorm would say if he knew that the moon was driven by his once hunt-mate. I wonder what he said when he learned this in the Halls. If. Not that this would be the most important thing to be addressed by him, by far.

[p11] I will no longer comment on every instance of pretending to know the thoughts of Morgoth. It would be a waste of ink.

[p12] Tilion had never been dependable. I am curious why was he chosen for this role. Maybe nobody else was willing? Never mind, you soon shall have the opportunity to ask about it, but for the book it must remain a mystery, as there is no good source available.

[p19] It is peculiar how the description of impassability of the Seas, and of the Girdle of Melian, sound similar. As they should.

Chapter Text

[p1] From the bitterness towards the Valar I see that we moved to Noldorin sources now.

[p3 (new section)] It is difficult to blame the Men for fearing the Valar considering that the Valar had never introduced themselves to the Secondborn. They were left alone and we all know how this went.

I try to refrain from criticizing the Valar, but in some parts of the text it is difficult.

[p3] It was also said by some who had spoken with the Men that they had awoken earlier, some time before the first sunrise. But most agreed that they came with the Sun. We found them late and considering how short the Mannish generations are, it is a wonder that they remembered anything at all of their beginnings.

[p6] It is worth adding that there were certain diseases, made likely by Morgoth himself (or maybe Sauron, but why would he stop using them later?) that could kill an Elf. But before the War, before the whole land had been defiled, they occurred and thrived only in the darker places and passed quickly when the victim was moved to somewhere clean of the taint. And now they are fortunately long gone.

[p6 later] I suppose the speculation about their fate is useful in a text that is meant to be read by Men, even though it is apparent how little we know.

I wish I had some words of comfort, but what do I know? Nothing.

[p7] Whoever persuaded you to keep this fragment, give him my thanks.

Chapter Text

[p2] Suddenly the redactor shows some restraint about discussing Morgoth's thoughts. Better late than never, I suppose.

[p3] We were moving quickly then, impatient, expecting to find Morgoth anytime soon.

[p4] As I said, we all expected him, the rest of us were simply not as fast as Father.

[p4] Now instead of Morgoth, it is Feanáro whose mind is apparently known fully to the redactor. Some of those things are maybe clearly implied by his behavior, but regardless… at least in his death Pengolodh should have given him some respect. [p5] This is simply outrageous.

[p4] I wish the part about his spirit being in the Halls was more trustworthy, but considering the context, I do not find much comfort in it.

As for the events, the account is correct.

[p7] I do not know whether I will be able to discuss this part at all, same for some later parts. The emissary came very quickly indeed, we barely — formally it was not yet clear who was the King now, but of course we all knew. Obviously, nobody believed Morgoth, but we expected a different kind of trick, I did at least, I wouldn't— No, I probably would. Maybe I knew, or suspected at least. Maybe my memory is lying.

He hoped to kill Morgoth, I am certain of this, and to die in the deed. We all hoped, but it was not clear where he would be; we expected a battle but didn't know where. We all thought, I think— I think that we all knew the risk. But this is such a convenient thought to believe. Maybe not. Maybe we all simply ran away, under the pretense of tactical positioning, leaving Maitimo to face the enemy alone.

We chased them, but way too late. And then Tyelco said it would be tactically sound for them to attack the camp now, so we went back, terrified— and stayed, for there was not much to do.

Or so we told ourselves.

Sometimes I wish— but I shall not burden you with that.

[p12] Of course Findekáno did not ask anyone. He knew that I would forbid him, or that at least we wouldn't let him go alone.

[p18] Some were actually quite vocal about it in private, even with Fingolfin himself present. Fortunately we managed to persuade them from making a scene during the coronation.

[p20] I don't know if Thingol's aloofness was caused by foresight (which he had plenty of), political thinking, or the opinions that some of the Noldor held about his marriage.

[p21] Let's be honest: Angrod knew it was relevant. He hid the crimes of his cousins, and so did his siblings later. Loyalty to the family is highly prized among the Noldor, more so than among other Elves. Even though they abhorred it, the Arafinweans did not talk about the kinslaying with outsiders, because this would be treason.

As for the Oath, I think it was simply too terrifying to even speak about it.

[p27+] Again: maps would be useful here.

[p28] I would not call Caranthir "proud". He simply spoke his mind. The Dwarves, from what I know, eventually learned to appreciate it. They have no need to be considered beautiful and appreciate both a loyal ally and a solid trade partner more than false compliments.

[p29 (new section)] The beginning of the feast was uneasy, as we feared another sudden tragedy. Yet somehow it didn't come.

[p30] Yes, few of the Sindar spoke Quenya in any satisfying manner, and we didn't encourage them much to try, because Sindarin was new to us and therefore fascinating. We taught them the Tengwar however, and we exchanged much lore. Some of it is written in other books.

[p31+] This is clearly sourced from Finrod himself, so I will not comment on it. The siege is also described correctly, though without much detail.

[p31] The Sindar had more predisposition for music, yes, which they much needed for the reason of their unwillingness to learn any proper mathematics. Only later both of those gifts were combined.

Chapter Text

Most of this chapter could be replaced by more well-made maps.

[p5] Who called Turgon "the Wise"? I don't think it is an accurate name, but maybe this is how he made the people of Gondolin call him?

[p19] Than none at all of the Noldor had crossed Ered Lindon in First Age is, I believe, a hyperbole. But there were no accounts, and if anyone wandered there, the tale did not spread.

Chapter Text

[p5 and others] I will try not to comment on the amount of instruction Turgon got from Ulmo, or on his later decisions in those matters.

[p9] I assume this account came from Galadriel, or at least was consulted with her?

It was very kind of her, I now think, to not tell everything to Melian outright, despite how much she'd always hated us.

[p14] I do not believe she said "Morgoth stole from us"— This would be too rude even for her. Maybe. Well, on a second thought, maybe not, especially not then. It was said by many who had no right to say it that the Silmarils were the property of all the Noldor, or even all the Eldar. Some added the Valar in there too.

I am very glad that she got wiser with time, or at least did not put her words into action.

[p15] Still, she did not tell Melian everything. I should probably appreciate that.

[p20] As has been said, Thingol was gifted with foresight. As it usually is, it revolved around the darker events. And while some, like Finrod, were able to handle the ominous feelings well, Thingol clearly was not.

[p23+] This sounds very much like a story Galadriel would tell.

[p35] It was never clear whether Angrod told Thingol about the Oath or not. We didn't ask him clearly. Later we assumed that the Sindar knew, but we might have been wrong. This would explain much about their later decisions.

[p39] Quenya had not been spoken in Doriath before, from what I know, except very early when Finrod had unsuccessfully tried to teach it to some of the Sindar. The ban on it changed nothing. I however appreciate Thingol putting his anger into a pointless order instead of violence.

[p41+] It should be noted that foresight is often like this. The fact that Finrod didn't mention Amarië here, only his doom, does not mean that he didn't care about her. He simply got overwhelmed by portents at the moment.

I hope they are happy together now.

Chapter Text

Aredhel was like this, she had always been like this. That's probably why Celegorm liked her so much.

[p16] Many things were said about Eöl, both about his ancestry and his past. I don't know which of them are true. I wish that I had met him, preferably before those events, and that he had given me a reason to kill him.

[p18+] I wish we knew how much of this came from Maeglin himself (I doubt Aredhel had had much time to tell her story to Turgon) and how much Pengolodh made up.

[p37] The meeting of Eöl and Curufin happened not long after Maedhros had written to Curufin (and Celegorm) a particularly strongly-worded letter concerning violence towards the Sindar and others, and threats of violence.

It is often like this with the Doom: all of our best intentions turned to more pain.

Oh, how many times we later wished that he'd killed Eöl there and then. It would have been better. Maybe.

[p44] One time, or one of the few, when Turgon's people disobeyed him out of mercy — and how it ended. As I said: the Doom turned many good deeds into poison. Of all the people that could have been spared… Eöl was probably the only one who didn't deserve the mercy.

I hope that Mandos treated him appropriately and that he is still in the Halls. None the wiser, probably. If he even went there.

[p56] According to most historians, Turgon killing Eöl in revenge for his sister somehow does not make him a kinslayer. This opinion lacks basic logic. I appreciate many things Turgon did, but if Fingon has to bear this name, he should too.

[p58+] This description comes from Pengolodh, who was there, so I do not feel qualified to challenge it. However, saying that Maeglin never shared his feelings with anyone, and at the same time describing those feelings in detail, raises some questions.

Chapter Text

[p1] Finrod wasn't bored or tired. He was struck one of his bouts of curiosity, or foresight, or a mix of both. He used to do this, to wander off at unexpected moments. Also, we weren't even hunting much, we were mostly talking. Or rather him and Maedhros were talking, mostly. Those were good days. Maedhros was at peace and full of hope, even. We were happy and the doom seemed very distant. We laughed and argued about music, and jumped into streams, splashing water on one another, and chased many animals simply for the joy of it.

[p10] This was said often, and in most detail, by Finrod and those close to him. He had a particular interest in Men, not only in their deeds and tribes, but mostly in their origins and tales.

There is some truth to that story. Morgoth must have left his fortress, otherwise I cannot imagine how Fingon could do what he did. Morgoth knew about many things happening in his domain, or at least so it seemed. Anyway, Maedhros believed that Morgoth had not been there at the time. I think this is a good source.

[p19] I already spoke about Thingol's foresight and about his inability to cope with it.

[p50] It is said (was said by Caranthir, in particular) that Haleth had a witty tongue and a stronger personality than some of the Elves. It is a pity that she never had the opportunity to talk to Thingol directly (assuming that her safety would be guaranteed, which is, as we know, a tricky assumption).

Chapter Text

The beginning of the end. Well, it was that to some. To some the shattering of hope was yet to come.

To Celegorm and Curufin it had came earlier. They had known — either one of them or both had the foresight for that — that Aredhel was dead and by whom. They spent plenty of time lone, save each other. At some point Curufin said to Maedhros "See? This is what mercy brings." And later those two often exchanged looks, and something was in their eyes that had not been there before. And much later, when a topic of oaths and that they should not be made, was mentioned, they glanced at each other and smiled in a peculiar way.

I know that this excuses nothing, but something had broken within them with the loss of Aredhel.

[p1] The sons of Feanor being unwilling to go into battle was not cowardice (most of them were not cowards) or laziness (very few of the Noldor are lazy). It was the knowledge, shared by all and dreaded by most, that if such an attach would succeed and the Silmarils would be won, then, according to the customs of war, High King Fingolfin would have a claim to them. Or at least it would not be clear that he does not.

And even if Fingolfin had kept true to his word to Feanor and made no such claim — which was not a guaranteed outcome — what would his children and his people do? 

But, as soon became apparent, none of those concerns mattered.

[p6] It was very typical for Finrod: to be on a swamp in a battle full of flames so hot that even yers later, the nightmares of them left burn-marks. I suppose he deserved his luck well.

In general, this chapter could also use a map, if only to remind the readers of the scale of the events. It was not battle as Men nowadays thing of it. It lasted weeks and spanned hundreds of miles. A campaign — I think this is a more fitting word.

[p8] Maedhros still had hope back then.

[p9] I wonder what part of this Fingolfin actually said and what part is poetic license.

[p10] I am sure this "it is said" means "Sauron said". But maybe it is true.

I don't have anything to add to big part of the chapter. Parts are true, nd for parts I don't have first-hand knowledge.

[p37] I said I will not comment on this again.

Chapter Text

Obviously, I should not and will not comment on most of this. There are, however, some more general remarks spread throughout the story that need correcting.

[p4] Sauron used to do it, even back then. His tactics towards Gorlim had been well-practiced.

Men can do many things that they possibly should not, and still end up — maybe "well" is not the best word in here. Not horrible, at least. It is beautiful. Shocking, and painful, sometimes, but beautiful. Like hearing a music that is so spread in its range that you'll never be able to sing it (forgive me for a metaphor that makes very little sense for me and not much for you either — some complaints on such music were given to me not long ago and it stuck in my thoughts for reasons that are not relevant here) — a beauty that is for another, bot still so deep and sorrowful and immense… I am glad that it is so. (But you are in some ways in between, even now. You do have this beauty, or at least you shall.)

Ah, Thingol… He had never been, as I have said, wise in his reactions to his foresight. He has later paid for it, but also have others, who did nothing to deserve any of that.

[p31] It is not clear why Finarfin had chosen such a peculiar heraldry. It was said (among the slightly mean) that he'd just picked the first thing he'd seen in his garden that day. His children had loved to play with snakes and snakes in Aman are friendly like all other beasts.

(By the way, be warned: that particular gold-copper, green-eyed breed tries to eat almost everything — imagine a snake with the manners of a hungry puppy. Also: they do eat clothes. And hair if you are not careful. Giving them some dried fruit to chew on usually solves the problem.)

I dream of Beren sometimes, or of both of them. And of others, but them two I have never even seen, except on portraits. Excuse me. I will restrict my writing to the facts.

[p48] Finrod talked with Beren behind closed doors, but they did not serve their purpose well.

[p49] Some of these things feel slightly out-of-character for Finrod. I think some of the versions of this story have been influenced by Celegorm's telling of it. And while he surly eavesdropped much of the conversation, I think he also added some to it.

[p65, not counting the poetry] Huan was to Celegorm not unlike Celebrimbor was to Curufin. Loved. And expected to be absolutely loyal nd obedient.

It would be useful to talk about the topic of height. Maybe there are better places somewhere in the text, but I will discuss it in here. This will all need a solid redaction anyway.

Luthien was taller than Curufin, who looked, as has been said, very much like Feanor, and was only slightly shorter than him. (Celegorm was shorter than Curufin but not much. He was about my height.) Beren was noticeably shorter than Celegorm (I do believe Celegorm on that). Somehow, many paintings present Luthien as shorter than Beren. It is incorrect.

Also, as we are discussing that: Turgon was significantly taller than Maedhros.

Maedhros was called "the Tall" because for a long time he had been the tallest among the family (except Mahtan) and among the more important Noldor in general. This changed after Turgon reached his full height, but the name stayed. I daresay it was still a better moniker than Turgon's "the Wise".

[p84] I am grateful to Orodreth.

[p80] And Luthien, obviously.

[p120-121 not counting the poetry] Maedhros didn't know how Celegorm and Curufin had treated Luthien. It was clear when they arrived that something terrible had happened, and it was not difficult to guess that they were not innocent in it. But they didn't say, and we did not ask.

This sounds cruel— this was cruel. And had we asked, maybe things would have gone differently later. But also if we had asked and the answer had been somewhat different — say, it would be that Orodreth, or any other of our allies, claimed the rights to a Silmaril at some point— there were many answers that we would rather not learn. And so, we did not ask.

Or even if it had been just them two at fault — we did not suspect anything like this, but maybe betraying Beren, or even Finrod, to Sauron, maybe helping the Enemy just a little — I didn't know what Maedhros would have done in such a situation. I still don't now.

And so, we did not ask.

But back to the facts. Based on the Lay of Leithian, and on the decisions made later, we should assume that the Sindar did not know the full extent of the Oath and that in Nargothrond Celegorm quoted only a part of it. (Curufin would stop him, one way or another, from saying too much. He used to do this.)

I wonder— but no. This is not the place for it.

Chapter Text

[p3] The League would have been more successful if we had known about everything Celegorm and Curufin had done. But alas. I am not going to again discuss our reasons for not investigating the matter more.

Maybe we were, in fact, cowards.

Except Maedhros. I will not help with any text that dares to call him a coward, no matter its scholarly importance.

[p4] Maedhros's letter was very polite, even if cold, and had it not been for the deeds of our brothers, and for Thingol's stubbornness and greed, and for the Doom—

But that speculation is pointless.

[p11] Evert time we claimed a victory— but no, it has changed later, with the War of Wrath, and now again, and the world is getting better indeed. The day comes for the Men, and it is as it should be.

[p21] Of all those that we have killed, Uldor and his kin deserved this.

[p25] I wonder whether Huor and Hurin really had so much foresight, or did Pengolodh add some details in here. But this is not a question of great importance.

[p38] It was not about the armies, mostly. Armies can be remade, and Men multiply quickly. It was about hope. The loss of Fingon and the betrayal of Men… it broke Maedhros. And the rest of us had been broken already.

Chapter Text

I will not comment much on this, for the reason that I was not there. It is one of those rare stories in which the tragedy was not brought by our deeds. Mostly. (I say that going to the battle was not morally wrong, even if it ended in a tragedy.)

[p6] There was a good reason why Saeros had been living away from the other Noldor. (He'd had many differences of opinion with others, mostly about the role of Men. Still, he was formally one of Finrod's people, and I suppose this was why Thingol accepted him. But it was widely said that he was unpleasant to Men. He was good at music though, and could hold an entertaining conversation.)

[p34] This is intriguing. Do you have more sources about these swords? They seem strangely … I don't want to say "familiar", but I will definitely say "dangerous".

[p43] If the Dwarves had been more willing to share the words they had used, we wouldn't have given Elvish names to all the landmarks.

[p58] Indeed, the winters in late First Age were extremely cold and there was something uncanny about them. I'm not sure how much you remember of it, hopefully not much. Anyway, in the North and far from the sea, they were particularly nasty.

[p60] Who wrote this? I strongly advise you to be wary of him if he's still around. Very wary. Actually if he is around, I may decide to visit after all.

On a second thought, I don't think I need to tell you that.

Still, I'd remove this fragment. There is no need to be poetic about the Enemy.

[p100] It is worth noting that Orodreth, while wise in many things, was never particularly interested, or skilled, in military strategy. Or in the art of forcing his opinion on others, even when he was right. But for the later, who am I to criticize him?

Still, the bridge was a terrible idea, no foresight was needed to understand this, it was a basic tactical blunder.

[p134] Yes, some… quite many of Finrod's people have later lived in Doriath— I wish they had not. Or no, maybe, because without them— Anyway, give them my apologies if you will.

Chapter Text

[p6] Yes, Thorondor (like many creatures of Manwë) is surprisingly sharp-tongued. (I heard it from quite a reliable source.)

Turgon's decision regarding Húrin was… very pragmatic. Both necessary and unforgivable. At least he changed his mind. Not that it mattered.

[p28] Regardless of everything, there was some truth in Húrin's words about Thingol's role in the death of Finrod and all that. More than some, I would say.

One of the worst things about not being dead is missing the opportunity to ask Thingol what he'd been thinking. Which would be extremely satisfying. Assuming— Assuming way too much, probably.

Regardless, I hope someone asked him this question at some point. Of the many friends I've lost (I will not call them simply "followers"), I can think of a few at least who would.

I know that he is your ancestor, and I'm beyond glad that we've never met, but I sincerely do wish Thingol has some… opportunity to explain his decisions.

[p34] I will not event comment on this. "It came into his mind" is the best way to say that.

(If you ever feel adventurous please, ask Galadriel what is her opinion about such treatment of her brother's heritage. I'd love to know her answer, and even more, the expression on her face. But knowing her, she'll say something self-righteous and pretend that she never felt any anger towards Thingol.)

[p37] The Dwarves were not wrong either.

[p49] Had Beren left it with everything else in the river—

Many will say that Morgoth would then have conquered all the Beleriand. I don't think— But regardless, this did not happen.

I have many words I wish to say, but none of them would change anything. This was supposed to be an analysis of factual accuracy, not an apology for the unforgivable.

[p55] Those servants of Celegorm were dealt with appropriately. Too late, obviously. (Many of his people had seemed…suspicious. We didn't have enough time to learn how much they'd changed. And even if we had, what were we to do? Kill them? Banishment in those circumstances would be the same as killing, only more cruel. And this all is assuming that Celegorm would have accepted Maedhros's authority to such an extent and we would not end up fighting against one another.)

What am I to write here?

"I am sorry that we have murdered your whole family and your mother barely escaped with her life"? "I wish it never happened"? I do, but it had happened.

"It happened a long time ago"? In the eyes of your translators and those who will read their work, surely. It is true what the wise have said — we do learn to envy the Men more and more.

"I dream about them and wake up crying"? It does not matter that I do. I deserve it, and it doesn't help anyone anyway. No, no, I don't deserve those dreams, I don't deserve to see their faces. I do dream more like the Men those days — swirling, confusing, uncontrolled visions that flee from memory as soon as I wake up. I'm not sure who's there, but plenty of your family, I am afraid. Both past and present, and maybe even future.

Don't worry though, I have never had any gift of foresight.

Sometimes I simply dream of music, and forget that too.

But I cannot, I should not avoid discussing the murders, I must call them what they were. We murdered them. So many. I myself had a big part in killing your grandmother. Her at least you'll meet. Not that it changes anything about what I have done.

Please, I know this is extremely cruel and entitled of me, but please, give my apology to —whomever relevant you shall meet. Your parents, surely, and grandmother. Thingol even (if he left the Halls). And certainly Melian. But also many others.

I have said so many terrible, cruel things already, opened would that should have been left untouched, so I may as well add more to it— I will not force you to say it to Arwen, but please just let her read this: Arwen, dear child, I know I deserve nothing from you except hatred but I dare to assume that your personality is somewhat like your father's, so maybe it's not entirely pointless to ask — in due time, give my deepest apologies to Dior, and Lúthien, and Elured and Elurin, and honestly, to Elros also, when you meet them. And anyone that should be mentioned here but isn't, which is probably many people. I don't know if this request makes any sense whatsoever. (Please don't tell Galadriel that I made it.) It changes nothing, but they deserve it.

If I could do anything to make it— I don't know. At least to make sure it does not repeat. It won't probably, because all the reasons are fortunately gone. But still, the urge is there. I would do— I would do a lot to be free. Everything that doesn't harm anyone else, that is not evil. If I could find a way to be free.

But I cannot.

I hope they'll at least feel somewhat satisfied when it swallows me eventually — because it will, I know it will — whether I broke it or not does not really matter — we belong to the Darkness.

I don't see any reason why it would not be so. I brought it all on myself, there's nobody else to blame. (Well, Morgoth. But even so, there's enough blame left.)

I know what I did. I know what we did. I know what I deserve. What's there to add?

Chapter Text

Of those events I also know very little, and Pengolodh was there, and he wrote the account.

[p8] Why was Pengolodh so unwilling to admit that Turgon had made a mistake, to put it mildly? (We know why. Politics. Regardless, I think the text should acknowledge his bias here.)

[p13] I try to not judge Maeglin — I would likely do much worse — but he could have at least warned someone after the betrayal. Maybe. I would not have the courage. But for others to have more courage than me is a low and very basic expectation.

I just realized something that I should have though of much earlier: you have (it is widely gossiped) a much better source to consult about everything relating to Gondolin. And many other things.

[p15] By the way, do you have any source on what happened to Anguirel? It seems to disappear from the tale, and this is strange, especially taking into account how much is said about the alleged destiny of its sibling.

[p20] By whom it is said? Who would gossip about what Ulmo did in Aman—? Oh. Ossë. Of course he would.

"The wise said" — It is surely easy to say many things after the story is finished and everything is clear. I'm certain that nobody had said that before your father's arrival surprised them all. Rúmil and other philosophers— I must acknowledge that they proved wiser than us, having stayed in Aman. But also, they have always loved to seem wise in hindsight, and I find it quite pretentious.

[p20] The last sentences of this paragraph are confusing, self-contradictory nonsense — surely written by Rúmil and gotten to Beleriand somehow, I'm guessing it was via the Vanyar — please remove them.

Or at least ask someone more trustworthy, I'm sure he'll agree with me. (Not Galadriel, she'd approve of this paragraph out of pure hatred for us.)

Chapter Text

[p1] What am I to say? This chapter starts with the best, and crawls down to the worst.

[p4] Whoever wrote this was almost too kind, but yes. The phrasing of Maedhros's letter had been, at least, diplomatic. Not that it absolves us of anything.

There are no words— even my death would not be enough of a comment, far from it. (And I would not put this on you, I'm afraid that you'd worry, you had always pitied the vilest of creatures, spiders lacking legs, drying worms and other filth. So there is a risk that you would mourn me, and I will not put this upon you. And regardless, I shall not, no unless it could change anything. And it cannot.)

There is no amount of pain that can answer that.

And yet, the story ends well. It always does, all the ages end well eventually. I am glad— no, that is a lie. I try to be glad for all the good things that happen to the world. I would never wish for anyone else to end up like us.

Though Thauron being dead, or whatever has befallen him, is deeply satisfying. When I say "anyone else", I mean anyone among the Children of Eru — which, honestly, is a title I no longer deserve.

And some Maiar, who I feel almost should be included in this, via familial or friendly bonds — or via wearing themselves more raggedly than some Men even, or being more insufferable— I digress again, to avoid the matter. Regardless, I hold your friend in high respect, and I am saying that not only because you will, I think, show him these writings.

[p7] That you kept this sentence in here— I am at loss of words. Thank you, but this is far from enough of a reply.

And if you — if this seems factual to you, I wholly agree.

How insane, how undeserved it was. I would— I would rip my heart out for either of you if I could, but my heart is chained, and who can cut it free? Hearts are difficult things, more difficult than hands.

I talk and talk and words are cheap, and I had talked much before and then— I kept going back into the Darkness.

And now you are finally leaving for home, and he's gone.

(To be honest, I would rip out my heart just to get rid of this chain. I hate it, it's just a couple of words as some say, but I loathe it more than I loathe Morgoth himself. He is, at least, gone. And it is just asleep.)

[p16] Those words are beautiful. If it wasn't an affront to both Eonwë and your father, I'd put them to music. Please, give Eonwë my compliments at some point, he is a better poet that I thought, and I did think of him highly already. (Or don't if you think he'd be too offended.)

[p29] I am so glad that you will be joined with them soon. All of you deserve it.

[p35] I said it in a less poetic way, but this phrasing is definitely more appropriate to be read by children and those strange little Men who are in theory not children, but seem no less innocent than them. (I am aware what some of them have done, yes. Still I am quite certain they do not know some of the words that had been used in our conversation that night.)

Wait. How did this conversation end up in the book? I did not relate it to anyone.

…I had been sure you were both asleep. I would not use such words in front of children, regardless of— everything.

The Star of High Hope… What a fitting name. Hope, blind hope against all odds and reason, but not for us, it would burn us— maybe still I should call it hope, because hope is supposed to be blind, but after all we had done— and yet, it still shines. And your little Estel is a king now, and I know you would say that there is more hope than grief in everything that came with it — even for you personally, not just for the Men and their kingdom — and I will not call you unwise or naive for this.

I will call you better than I can ever hope to be. Because you are. It shows in this and in many other things. Despite all the horrors of First Age, and Second, and the recent ones, you kept hoping — and you won. This is how it is, how it should be.

And yet, I cannot look at the Star of Hope and not feel the urge for murder.

I wish I could say something less painful to you — but this is what I am. And maybe knowing what I am will help you.

This is what I am, even when it's sleeping in the back of my head, as it is for most of the time. I cannot kill it, I tried, and nothing worked, I keep trying and nothing can kill it. You can't kill darkness, it keeps eating the light and spewing it back as more shadows.

[p44] This suggests that we were called by Eonwë too, but we knew well that his "all the Elves" didn't include us. We'd been banished for the Oath and how could this have changed?

The Valar could not remove it, this at least should be obvious to everyone. They cannot.

[p45] All right. Technically Eonwë did say that. But still, it seemed to make no sense.

[p48] Maybe it should be explicitly noted that Maedhros's greatest fear was not losing the jewels, but Manwë treating him the same as Morgoth had. Weren't they, after all, brothers? It feels absurd now —is absurd — but then, with the terror in his eyes, and the land itself breaking all around and reminding us how mighty the Valar are, it seemed a very rational concern.

[p51] This also was an issue we couldn't solve. It sounds nonsensical, maybe, so let me explain.

It was about the legitimacy, not about the loudness. We didn't, of course, assume that Ilúvatar was unable to hear us. But why would He want to?

Even the stars seemed so distant, and the brightest of them would burn us (we didn't know it yet, but I think that out hearts had always known). Manwë and Varda had abandoned us two, and they had been much closer once, the Valar were always close to the Eldar, even the book mentions it, we were not Men — and Men have lost all they had anyway, or so it is said — what could we have hoped for?

We had sworn our Oath and that was it. The question was only how to minimize the harm done to others — and we failed even in this.

[p61 the last] You phrased it so well (I assume it was you who wrote the last part. It sounds like you.)

Here end both the First Age and my letter (as I will not comment on the later Ages for the reason of not enough knowledge of the events. I was not with Elros and his descendants when they needed someone who could warn them on the dangers of pride and ignoring the Valar; neither was I with Tyelpe when there was an opportunity to fight someone who deserved it, I was not with him the same as I had not been with Maedhros earlier; nor was I even with your friends when they fought against Thauron. I am a coward.)

Here it ends, in hope and in sorrow.

And later the hope turned to blood and grief, and then the world was changed, and later the hope splintered into tiny pieces of a broken kingdom, and yet you rekindled it.

And now the world is left for Men and maybe they'll do better than we had.

I keep dreaming of you and your— your son-in-law, I suppose. Or maybe your great-grandfather. It's hard to tell. I wake up in tears and can't remember why (but those aren't tears of terror or despair, do not worry, and anyway as I have said, I posses no gift of foresight).

Anyway here it ends, resolving to a sixth, always to a sixth, never a proper ending, but how could there be one? How could all the noise we made ever resolve? Music has rules and so does Fate, and those rules cannot be ignored or bent.

And yet, it is said that the world changes for the better, not only diminishes. How? Even disregarding me — the last remnant of the darkness of an Age long gone — how is the world going to heal if every Age turns to evil and sorrow? Maybe there was an answer to it in the texts that have been burned in Sirion (whether burned by us with the city, or by those who should have kept the knowledge safe), but even so, now it only ash remains, buried deep under the water and nobody on this side of the Sea remembers.

And yet, the Star of Hope shines and somehow the world will heal eventually.

I wish I could disappear, but those cursed chains keep me even from fading, it seems, so the best I can do is hide and pretend to be gone.

I wish there was a way— But I can see none. Not even to bring you, or others, any peace.

I would walk a thousand miles; I would walk all around the lands, I would wait another three Ages, or until the End itself — and yet it would not be enough. Nothing can be enough.

The Fate is inescapable and our Oath is irrevocable. Gil Estel shines, but not for me.

So here it ends. The book which began with academic discussions of concepts beyond our understanding, ends in grief and questions with no answer.

And yet, I will keep walking, and singing, and dreaming, and weeping. And dare I say "hoping"? I said so many unforgivable things already, why not add yet another?

So, hoping, maybe. Even though it feels to my heart the same as the Silmaril felt to my hand. No, it I could at least see. The hope is blind — and of course, how could it not be blind when Darkness has swallowed me long ago? I cannot see, I only stumble around in pitch blackness, in a cell that I know to be locked, seeking for a way out among the corpses of those I murdered and lost.

I feel like I know you somewhat, and that you felt guilty for not being able to help me. Please, forgive yourself if you haven't yet. I do forgive you. I have forgiven you years ago already.

Yes I had hoped, at some earlier point, that you may solve it all somehow. How? I have no idea, but your grandparents had managed to do the impossible, so… (I would not mention it even now, but I feel that you know, that you have always known it.) I apologize. It was too heavy a burden even for an adult, and you were just a child, and yet, thankfully, you came out unbroken. Not due to anything I did. I hope that you are at peace now. I am glad that you finally agreed to sail. I dare to read this as a sign that you have eventually healed from what I had put onto you.

I know that what I did is impossible to forgive, but please, at least, forget me.

Be well.

I love you.

Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanárion