Athrabeth Eönwë ah Elros by Hiranya  

Athrabeth Eönwë ah Elros

[In the first years of this, the Second Age of the Children of Ilúvatar, when our realm of Andor, that is Yôzâyan the gift of the Powers was established upon the island of Elenna by my father, Aran Elros the King of Men, whom we titled Tar-Minyatur in the High-Elven tongue, we were often visited by Eönwë the Great, mighty among the hosts of the Holy Ones. He held converse with my father on many things of lore and imparted to him much wisdom concerning the Elder Days and of the essences of all things both in the World and of what lies beyond, such that I reckon my father became as one of the elven-wise, if not beyond even the Eldar in wisdom. For they know little of what lies beyond the world save what the Powers have taught them, but by his own native skill in insight augmented by what Blessed Eönwë instructed him, he gained some knowledge at least that surpassed even the Valar, for they have forgotten much of their lives (if life one can call their bodiless state of being that is their nature) before they descended into the World from the Timeless Halls that have no extent, where (I say where, but the word has no meaning here) they dwelt before the countenance of the One above all thrones forever. It is for this reason that Aran Tar-Minyatur had no fear of death, and passed of his own will without any violence beyond the World. And yet, in the beginning, he still learned much at the feet of the Blessed One, and when I was a child, I heard one such sermon from his very lips, for I had accompanied my father as his scribe. The following is the account of this event.]

“We hear from the loremasters of the Eldar”, said my father, “that ere Arda was formed, for uncounted ages beyond the thought of Elves and Men did the Valar and ye the Beautiful ones struggle with the Enemy and your forsworn brethren, his servants for mastery of the World. But why, when ye did form the heavens first, did Morgoth not endeavor to corrupt the very stars themselves? It is said that he hated the Lady Varda the Star-Queen the most among all the Holy Ones, and that is plain, for darkness must needs hate and fear the light -- but why did he fear her? Was he not once the mightiest of the Ainur, whom all of the rest of you together could scarce hope to contain, let alone defeat? Why then did he limit himself to the Earth?”

It seemed to me then that Eönwë smiled, yet I could have been mistaken – for the splendour of his face was such that it was oft unreadable by the sons of Men. Even so, his words were approving. “Wise is thy question, child”, he replied. “And it is one I can thankfully answer, though by no means am I the wisest of the Ayanumûz, whom ye call the Ainur. Hear then the tale of the days before days, when there was neither sun nor moon nor the stars, and Arda was still a matter of our songs only. Manwë is held the Lord of all Eä for many reasons, but among them is that the very airs that fill the World are the work of his mind, and it is out of them that aught else was made by the rest of us. Indeed, Manwë and Varda may rightly be called the father and mother of the matter of all the World.

“Even from the beginning did Morgoth the Accursed strive to mar the works of the Ainur, but he found that it was not as easy to mar as to make – when Our Lady the Snow-White wrought the great wheeling fires that are the womb of stars amidst the thin dark airs filling the deeps of the Halls of Eä, she did not have to expend her will in doing so, for the unformed matter of the World lent themselves naturally to her song, for it is out of love that the One sustains them in being by his Imperishable Flame, and of love for light and beauty are her songs. Not so with the Enemy’s songs – if songs his foul ravings of reckless hate can be called, for whilst he indeed did find it easy to mar the first stars, he could not keep them marred. Ever he crushed those earliest sky-jewels, and ever Varda made them anew out of the grey airs of Manwë. Put together, weaker were we then than he was, and yet he could not defeat us utterly, for in those days we had not yet taken bodies to ourselves, and therefore could not be slain. It was then that Morgoth, eldest of us that he was, was also the first of us to learn how to bind his intellect and will to matter, for only thus could his malice be imbued into the substance of the World, and thus wholly corrupt it.

“And thus it was that the day came when the stars were swallowed up in a great shape of shadow that began to suck in the very airs of Manwë, and a black wind blew across the spaces of Eä in which the first stars all died. Great was our sorrow then, and all of Eä would have been lost to us forever if Tulkas the Mighty had not come to us. Beyond all hope he came to us from the Place that is not a place, and alone amongst us he understood how to combat Melkor. A body the Foe of the World had assumed, a thing of noisome crawling chaos, one whose very shape was beyond all telling and filled our minds with madness and unreasoning fear, for to look on it was to look on Nothingness itself if Nothingness were yet Something.”

Here my father the King interrupted. “Nothingness as if it were something? Your words sound absurd, my Lord, if my presumptuousness might be forgiven, for small is my wisdom.”

Eönwë shook his head. “Nay, I deem not thy words presumptuous. There are no words for what we saw — it was a show of the disorder of Morgoth’s mind, of his self-wrought madness. A mind in love with destruction for its own sake, a will that once sought to become like Eru who is Being itself, and having failed at that, now hungered to unite itself to what was his opposite, to become as it were emptiness and nothingness, to be Malice itself, and that malice showed forth in his bodily shape, vast beyond the thought of ye Children of the One, a congeries of mingled light that illuminated nothing and the darkness that it was esconced in, a thing of unutterable foulness and slime, yet shriveled like old bones, a thing both blind in idiocy and cunning in its own way, a veritable blasphemy against the All-Father. And yet we saw that some among our number were allured by it, for its fell voice promised freedom beyond the strictures of him who is our Father and yours -- and the fear grew in us all that we would join him and lose ourselves. And then Tulkas came.

“For the first time in all the long ages that we had laboured in the Halls of Eä did we hear laughter, the wild, carefree, blessed laughter of the Goldenhead, for he assumed a body too, and a golden blaze lit his fair head and streamed behind him as he swept down among us. If wrath and malice seeped from Morgoth, they now were cowed by Tulkas’ mirth. And the first to join him in merriment as he laughed in the face of Evil was the one you call Nessa, whom he afterward wedded in happier days. And behind them rallied the rest of us. We did not body ourselves yet, but we sang our songs anew, and together we assaulted the vile crawling mass of corruption that was the body of the Enemy, and we slew him then, the first hunting of the Beast of all beasts, a hunt of which every dragon-hunt by Elves, Men or Dwarves is but a pale copy.”

“And yet he returned”, the words escaped my lips before I could master myself, and I bowed my head, stricken that I, a mere child, had interspersed myself into the speech between my betters. Yet the King only smiled, and a rueful chuckle was heard – and this time there was no mistaking it, for the Lord Eönwë indeed smiled upon me, and it was as if a very Silmaril flashed before my eyes, such was the beauty of his countenance then, and great delight filled my little heart, for what is a Man or a child of Man to be noticed let alone indulged by one like him? Yet is not he the herald of Manwë? Gentle and unassuming is that Lord of all the World, for all that he is the Vicegerent of Eru.

“Yes, wise one (for indeed it was Eönwë who first gave me the name of Ñólimon), he did return. But not for a very long time. For unlike our bodies that ye call fanar, which are but raiments that we assume and discard at will, Melkor’s first body was indeed like his last one that he lost when we beheaded him and sent his naked spirit into the Void. He had united his will so completely to the substance of his form that it had become a true body, and when we utterly destroyed it and reduced it to the unformed matter that is barely more than thought itself, his will was still fixed upon it though it was no more, and it took many ages before he could clear his mind of its confused state and make war upon our realm again. And yet, his native strength was so great that it took much less than what we would have needed had we become like him. Too soon did he return. Alas for the Spring of Arda that is no more, and for Almaren! But he had learned his lesson too well, for when he embodied himself again, he poured himself into the substance of Arda, and thus we could not slay him without destroying much of the Earth itself that we the Ainur love beyond all telling. The hurt and sorrow we have taken to ourselves in having to destroy Beleriand is one that will not leave us for all the ministrations of Lórien, and will endure to the end of days!”

[Here their speech together ended, for Eönwë would say no more, so great was his sorrow. But his words have struck a chord of fear in me – for are not all mortal lands infected with the will of Morgoth? And are we Men not tainted by him as well? Rightly do the Elves say that the Secondborn are like Morgoth the most among all the Valar, for ever quick are our minds and hands to wreak acts of wickedness. Unstained yet our home is, and noble yet are we the Edain, sons and daughters of those who fought the Enemy. Yet evil sleeps in the hearts of Men, and who knows if the day might come when we walk in the steps of Morgoth and invite his dark thought into our midst? May it be the will of the One and the Powers that our fair Númenorë escape the doom that came to Beleriand.]