The Silmarillion: Beauty and Sorrow Mingled

The Silmarillion … is an account of the Elder Days, or the First Age of the World. In The Lord of the Rings were narrated the great events at the end of the Third Age; but the tales of The Silmarillion are legends deriving from a much deeper past, when Melkor, the first Dark Lord, dwelt in Middle-earth, and the High Elves made war upon him for the recovery of the Silmarils.

From the Foreword, The Silmarillion

When one is drawn into the fascinating world of Middle-Earth laid out in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, the depth of the epic is forefront among the wonderful, captivating elements. Unlike much of modern “fantasy,” Tolkien weaves his world in a hundred colours, producing both believability and a richness that brings one to his work again and again. Certainly part of this lies in his profession as a philologist and as a lover of all things ancient, particularly language. We see subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) allusions to the very real past, especially from the epic poem Beowulf and the wonderful language in which it was written, Old English. While scores of words are drawn straight from Old English and its corpus of literature, so are many translated phrases and concepts and characters, from the Edoras hall-guard Háma to the alliterative verse uttered by Aragorn and Théoden. The very idea of Middle Earth is in fact one our predecessors would have understood: middan-geard, the middle-earth between the heavens and the depths below.

In the Shire we again take note of Old English wording and concepts, but here it is distant past, and hobbits hold little remembrance of that past. In Bree, a Celtic past and language is invoked, though not as strongly as in Rohan or the Shire. All these invocations of actual history and language serve to shape our ideas of these lands, making use of definite reality and history to give breadth and depth and a sense of very real time and place. “‘I like that!’ said Sam. ‘I should like to learn it. In Moria, in Khazad-dûm!‘”

But beyond the Shire, Bree, and Rohan, we largely leave what is known to us: we leave the allusions and use of the real past and enter one more elusive, and knowable only from within Professor Tolkien’s writings. If one wishes to understand the world of Rohan better one may learn a bit of Old English or read a great poem such as the Seafarer or the Ruins; but when the world of Gondor and Lothlorien is met, we have no real-life sources from which to draw, or past upon which we ourselves may build. Tolkien made use of Finnish, Welsh, and a little Latin to be sure in his construction of the Elvish tongues, but we can say with a good amount of certainty there is little Finnish about the Elves, and only a faint glimmer of the Welsh and Latin. So instead, to find a history, a depth to the greater part of Middle Earth, an account of it is in order, from Professor Tolkien. This is given to an extent in the Appendixes, but they extend only so far. There are poems and fragments of stories relating to the older times, but like Sam, we only enjoy them as traces, and wonder at the past behind them.

We are given that history and depth in the book known as The Silmarillion. In fact a collection of books bound together, if you will, The Silmarillion contains the primary account of the same name, as well as several lesser section. Together they weave the story of Middle-Earth from its beginning to the end of the War of the Ring. It would be foolish to try to even encapsulate the stories contained within it, for unlike LOTR, The Silmarillion is an amalgamation of stories and histories, varying in style and length. They have good flow, though some sections were by necessity separated from their most logical order. Some of the periods and ages of Middle Earth, or Arda as it is more rightly known, are treated in great depth, and some events and battles given many pages – while others are recorded quickly and with sparse use of words. However, this does not make for particularly difficult reading, unless one skips over an important detail – as I have done – and been left wondering later on.

It would be untrue to say The Silmarillion is an easy read: it is not. While LOTR on occasion uses high language and some obscure wordage, though rarely to a high degree (and broken up by the “rustic” speech of the hobbits), The Silmarillion is quite high-sounding and often strongly historical in its feel, its syntax and wording somewhat difficult. As such it can make for difficult reading, and is not to be taken hastily. At times the historical prose can be tedious, in the often-necessary relation of names (of which there are kith and kindred!) and events, but it is only rarely distracting. Many discover it and expect something like LOTR, but The Silmarillion is an entirely different sort of book and that should be kept in mind when approaching it. Despite these possible hindrances, it is still an excellent read, not only for its remarkable addition to the world of LOTR, but as a book standing on its own.

Now, all nagging details aside, let us examine the riches of this book. Perhaps first and foremost, The Silmarillion reveals an aspect of Middle Earth critics often raised as conspicuously missing from LOTR: a definite theology. While we are given tantalizing hints of some “Divine Will” working behind the scenes in Middle Earth, it could just as well be explained as benevolent fate. There is absolute certainty of good and evil in Middle Earth we know, but we are not given its source. The men of Gondor hold a “standing silence,” but its object is unknown to us, and perhaps to them as well. The Elves speak of Valar and Elbereth, but the significance of those words is obscure.

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made.

But from the first page of The Silmarillion, these questions from LOTR are answered, as we see the almighty Creator shape not only the universe, but also the entire course of history. The creation scene is magnificent, and strongly reminiscent of the creation of our world, which is what we would rather expect from Professor Tolkien. The Creator, or Eru, the One, creates the Ainur, or Valar as they are known to Elves: angelic beings, but more than angels, for they are endowed to carry out creation (though they only act inside what was ordained). For a great period of time the Valar and Eru sing forth a great song of making in which the course of Arda is laid forth, but in the midst of it one of the Valar, Melkor, begins to imagine schemes of his own, not in accordance with Eru. He begins to rebel, weaving thoughts of his own into the music. And thus evil enters into the world. But he is initially defeated, the music restored by Eru, and Arda formed by a single word of Eru. Melkor remains in Darkness, lurking and biding his time. The Valar are sent to Arda to dwell and tend after the world, and we see Eru less, the Valar working his will. And so it is to be throughout the history of Middle Earth: while divine will and ordinance works out (though none but Eru know its course), knowledge of Eru is sparse, and he leaves much to the Valar. Thus we have a picture not unlike the time of the Patriarchs: while men know of God, their knowledge is dim, and it seems that God is almost disengaged with the world. But, as in Middle Earth, we know that God was only working His preordained course, until the time for greater revelation was made known. It is under that new and glorious revelation and covenant, that of Christ, that we live. But Middle Earth is a place of the old covenant, where much is dim and unknown.

Thus the stage is set for Arda: the Elves, and Men, are eventually introduced, and Melkor (or Morgoth as he is later known) wages war and breeds evil. It is from Melkor’s guiles that the Balrogs come – horrible manipulations, not creations, for Melkor cannot create, only corrupt. With Balrogs are orcs and trolls and dragons, all fallen from good, bred in mockery. Sauron is a lieutenant of Melkor, a corrupted and rebellious member of the angelic, lesser beings known as Maiar, who joined with Melkor’s rebellion. And Melkor’s reach is great: we see him beguiling Elves and Men, and sowing seeds of hatred and kinstrife.

And so the world of The Silmarillion is a world of imperfection, and much sorrow and tragedy. There is much beauty to be sure, but we see it scarred not only by Melkor, but also by the inner hatred and jealousies of the Elves and later Men. The elements of sin and good and beauty mixed are best revealed in the tragic story of the Silmarils.

In the early days of the Elves were made those things that afterwards were most renowned of all the works of the Elves. For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with new thought, or it may be that some foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near. He pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable. Then he began a long and secret labour, and he summoned all his lore, and his power, and his subtle skill; and out of all he made the Silmarils.

These Silmarils, crafted firstly from good motive (a desire to preserve Light), are filled with the light of the two trees that give light to the realm of the Valar and Elves, and are thus hallowed and good. But Fëanor took great pride in his work (and, we note, wrought them in secret), and it would be his pride in his work that would bring ruin and strife upon the Elves. The Trees were later destroyed by Melkor and Ungoliant, and the Silmarils were stolen by Melkor and taken to his fortress in Middle-earth. Fëanor laid the blame upon the Valar and, along with his sons, swore an oath to pursue Melkor for the Silmarils, and scorned the Valar and left their realm. The seed of his pride and anger are shown, again and again throughout The Silmarillion wreaking much sorrow and pain upon the Elves – yet the Silmarils themselves are good and incredibly beautiful. Eventually they are redeemed, one even being set in the stars. It is the light of this Silmaril that Frodo bore with him through Mordor in the Vial of Galadriel.

Besides the greater scope of the origin and theology of Middle Earth, many holes and questions from LOTR are filled – like that of the Vial as seen above – and immense depth and background given. For The Silmarillion is by far the older work of the two, being the material from which LOTR was drawn. One critic complained, soon after the release of LOTR, that the Balrog of Moria and the giant spider Shelob of Cirith Ungol lacked a sense of belonging within the narrative. If this could be considered the case, it is solved adequately in The Silmarillion, as we see the history of Balrogs and giant spiders, so that the Balrog and Shelob no longer appear as unrelated to the rest of the story. The songs and poems that are narrated by a number of characters in the LOTR are developed – the vast weaving of history and legend that is within Middle Earth is opened. We sense a depth of place and time that is quite vast, and indeed remarkable considering one man developed them.

And we see language. Language, word, is of primary importance in Tolkien’s imagination, and it is developed to an intricate detail. It is the fullness of language that truly makes Middle Earth, that joins discordant elements, that links the past to the present. Story and song are woven throughout the narrative so that they seem to have come from Middle Earth, and not early twentieth-century England. The beautiful languages of the Elves permeate the entire story, and possess a realness that is a masterful work on its own. Sindarin and Quenya, the two primary Elvish tongues developed in the story, were projects Tolkien began before WWI, and he continued work on them until his death. A gloss of Elvish words is included in the back of The Silmarillion, along with a large index of names, though these reflect only a portion of Tolkien’s work.

Overall, the splendor of The Silmarillion outweighs any of its detractions. The world of Frodo and Aragorn and Théoden is further revealed, and the world of Lúthien and Beren and Finrod opened. But there is much to find not only from the context of Middle Earth and its stories, but far greater things that speak to us in our times and shed light upon our own histories. The stories breathe with myth and pathos and meaning, through a deeply literary and historical context. There is much to glean from within its pages: a wealth of beauty and sorrow, laid over the vast, deep expanses of Middle Earth.

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