The Silmarillion

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FOREWORD

The Silmarillion, now published four years after the death of its author, 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 Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, dwelt in Middle-earth, and the High Elves made war upon

him for the recovery of the Silmarils.

Not only, however, does The Silmarillion relate the events of a far earlier time than those of

The Lord of the Rings; it is also, in all the essentials of its conception, far the earlier work. Indeed,

although it was not then called The Silmarillion, it was already in being half a century ago; and in

battered notebooks extending back to 1917 can still be read the earliest versions, often hastily

pencilled, of the central stories of the mythology. But it was never published (though some

indication of its content could be gleaned from The Lord of the Rings), and throughout my father's

long life he never abandoned it, nor ceased even in his last years to work on it. In all that time The

Silmarillion, considered simply as a large narrative structure, underwent relatively little radical

change; it became long ago a fixed tradition, and background to later writings. But it was far indeed

from being a fixed text, and did not remain unchanged even in certain fundamental ideas concerning

the nature of the world it portrays; while the same legends came to be retold in longer and shorter

forms, and in different styles. As the years passed the changes and variants, both in detail and in

larger perspectives, became so complex, so pervasive, and so many-layered that a final and

definitive version seemed unattainable. Moreover the old legends ('old' now not only in their

derivation from the remote First Age, but also in terms of my father's life) became the vehicle and

depository of his profoundest reflections. In h is later writing mythology and poetry sank down

behind his theological and philosophical preoccupations: from which arose incompatibilities of

tone. On my father's death it fell to me to try to bring the work into publishable form. It became

clear to me that to attempt to present, within the covers of a single book the diversity of the

materials – to show The Silmarillion as in truth a continuing and evolving creation extending over

more than half a century – would in fact lead only to confusion and the submerging of what is

essential I set myself therefore to work out a single text selecting and arranging in such a way as

seemed to me to produce the most coherent and internally self-consistent narrative. In this work the

concluding chapters (from the death of Túrin Turambar) introduced peculiar difficulties, in that they

had remained unchanged for many years, and were in some respects in serious disharmony with

more developed conceptions in other parts of the book.

A complete consistency (either within the compass of The Silmarillion itself or between The

Silmarillion and other published writings of my father's) is not to be looked for, and could only be

achieved, if at all at heavy and needless cost. Moreover, my father came to conceive The

Silmarillion as a compilation, a compendious narrative, made long afterwards from sources of great

diversity (poems, and annals, and oral tales) that had survived in agelong tradition; and this

conception has indeed its parallel in the actual history of the book, for a great deal of earlier prose

and poetry does underlie it, and it is to some extent a compendium in fact and not only in theory. To

this may be ascribed the varying speed of the narrative and fullness of detail in different parts, the

contrast (for example) of the precise recollections of place and motive in the legend of Túrin

Turambar beside the high and remote account of the end of the First Age, when Thangorodrim was

broken and Morgoth overthrown; and also some differences of tone and portrayal, some obscurities,

and, here and there, some lack of cohesion. In the case of the Valaquenta, for instance, we have to

assume that while it contains much that must go back to the earliest days of the Eldar in Valinor, it

was remodelled in later times; and thus explain its continual shifting of tense and viewpoint, so that

the divine powers seem now present and active in the world, now remote, a vanished order known

only to memory.

The book, though entitled as it must be The Silmarillion, contains not only the Quenta

Silmarillion, or Silmarillion proper, but also four other short works. The Ainulindalë and

Valaquenta, which are given at the beginning, are indeed closely related with The Silmarillion; but

the Akallabêth and Of the Rings of Power, which appear at the end, are (it must to emphasised)

wholly separate and independent. They are included according to my father's explicit intention; and

by their inclusion is set forth the entire history is set forth from the Music of the Ainur in which the

world began to the passing of the Ringbearers from the havens of Mithlond at the end of the Third

Age. The number of names that occur in the book is very large, and I have provided a full index;

but the number of persons (Elves and Men) who play an important part in the narrative of the First

Age is very much smaller, and all of these will be found in the genealogical tables. In addition I

have provided a table setting out the rather complex naming of the different Elvish peoples; a note

on the pronunciation of Elvish names, and a list of some of the chief elements found in these names;

and a map. It may be noted that the great mountain range in the east, Ered Luin or Ered Lindon, the

Blue Mountains, appears in the extreme west of the map in The Lord of the Rings. In the body of the

book there is a smaller map: the intention of this is to make clear at a glance where lay the

kingdoms of the Elves after the return of the Noldor to Middle-earth. I have not burdened the book

further with any sort of commentary or annotation. There is indeed a wealth of unpublished writing

by my father concerning the Three Ages, narrative, linguistic, historical, and philosophical, and I

hope that it will prove possible to publish some of this at a later date.

In the difficult and doubtful task of preparing the text of the book I was very greatly assisted

by Guy Kay, who worked with me in 1974-1975.

Christopher Tolkien

AINULINDALË

The Music of the Ainur

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. And he

spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad.

But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for

each comprehended only that part of me mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the

understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper

understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.

And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty

theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory

of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar

and were silent.

Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make

in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye

shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts and devices, if he

will. But I win sit and hearken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into

song.'

Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and

organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Ilúvatar to

a great music; and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony that passed

beyond hearing into the depths and into the heights, and the places of the dwelling of Ilúvatar were

filled to overflowing, and the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not

void. Never since have the Ainur made any music like to this music, though it has been said that a

greater still shall be made before Ilúvatar by the choirs of the Ainur and the Children of Ilúvatar

after the end of days. Then the themes of Ilúvatar shall be played aright, and take Being in the

moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand fully his intent in their part, and each shall

know the comprehension of each, and Ilúvatar shall give to their thoughts the secret fire, being well

pleased.

But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the

music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to

interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar, for he

sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the

Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in all the gifts

of his brethren. He had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for

desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Ilúvatar

took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it

is with Ilúvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his

brethren.

Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straightway discord arose about him,

and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music

faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at

first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before

foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Ilúvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his

throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless

wrath that would not be assuaged.

Then Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and

a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power

and had new beauty. But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there

was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no

longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his

countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the

confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of

gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and

profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat

of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow

and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now

achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little

harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it

essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant

notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern.

In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Ilúvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the

silences yet unmoved, Ilúvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised

up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as

the light of the eye of Ilúvatar, the Music ceased.

Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: 'Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor;

but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will

show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may

be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he

that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which

he himself hath not imagined.'

Then the Ainur were afraid, and they did not yet comprehend the words that were said to

them; and Melkor was filled with shame, of which came secret anger. But Ilúvatar arose in

splendour, and he went forth from the fair regions that he had made for the Ainur; and the Ainur

followed him.

But when they were come into the Void, Ilúvatar said to them: 'Behold your Music!' And he

showed to them a vision, giving to them sight where before was only hearing; arid they saw a new

World made visible before them, and it was globed amid the Void, and it was sustained therein, but

was not of it. And as they looked and wondered this World began to unfold its history, and it seemed

to them that it lived and grew. And when the Ainur had gazed for a while and were silent, Ilúvatar

said again: 'Behold your Music! This is your minstrelsy; and each of you shall find contained

herein, amid the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself

devised or added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt

perceive that they are but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory.'

And many other things Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur at that time, and because of their memory

of his words, and the knowledge that each has of the music that he himself made, the Ainur know

much of what was, and is, and is to come, and few things are unseen by them. Yet some things there

are that they cannot see, neither alone nor taking counsel together; for to none but himself has

Ilúvatar revealed all that he has in store, and in every age there come forth things that are new and

have no foretelling, for they do not proceed from the past. And so it was that as this vision of the

World was played before them, the Ainur saw that it contained things which they had not thought.

And they saw with amazement the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar, and the habitation that was

prepared for them; and they perceived that they themselves in the labour of their music had been

busy with the preparation of this dwelling, and yet knew not that it had any purpose beyond its own

beauty. For the Children of Ilúvatar were conceived by him alone; and they came with the third

theme, and were not in the theme which Ilúvatar propounded at the beginning, and none of the

Ainur had part in their making. Therefore when they beheld them, the more did they love them,

being things other than themselves, strange and free, wherein they saw the mind of Ilúvatar

reflected anew, and learned yet a little more of his wisdom, which otherwise had been hidden even

from the Ainur.

Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men, the Firstborn and the Followers. And amid

all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces, and its wheeling fires, Ilúvatar chose a

place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this

habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not

their terrible sharpness; as who should take the whole field of Arda for the foundation of a pillar and

so raise it until the cone of its summit were more bitter than a needle; or who consider only the

immeasurable vastness of the World, which still the Ainur are shaping, and not the minute precision

to which they shape all things therein. But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and

had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therein, then many of the most mighty among them bent all

their thought and their desire towards that place. And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was

in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur who took part in the Music. And he feigned, even to

himself at first, that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of

Ilúvatar, controlling the turmoils of the heat and the cold that had come to pass through him. But he

desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men, envying the gifts with which Ilúvatar

promised to endow them; and he wished himself to have subject and servants, and to be called Lord,

and to be a master over other wills.

But the other Ainur looked upon this habitation set within the vast spaces of the World, which

the Elves call Arda, the Earth; and their hearts rejoiced in light, and their eyes beholding many

colours were filled with gladness; but because of the roaring of the sea they felt a great unquiet. And

they observed the winds and the air, and the matters of which Arda was made, of iron and stone and

silver and gold and many substances: but of all these water they most greatly praised. And it is said

by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any

substance else that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the

voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.

Now to water had that Ainu whom the Elves can Ulmo turned his thought, and of all most

deeply was he instructed by Ilúvatar in music. But of the airs and winds Manwë most had pondered,

who is the noblest of the Ainur. Of the fabric of Earth had Aulë thought, to whom Ilúvatar had given

skin and knowledge scarce less than to Melkor; but the delight and pride of Aulë is in the deed of

making, and in the thing made, and neither m possession nor in his own mastery; wherefore he

gives and hoards not, and is free from care, passing ever on to some new work.

And Ilúvatar spoke to Ulmo, and said: 'Seest thou not how here in this little realm in the

Deeps of Time Melkor hath made war upon thy province? He hath bethought him of bitter cold

immoderate, and yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy fountains, nor of my clear pools. Behold

the snow, and the cunning work of frost! Melkor hath devised heats and fire without restraint, and

hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of the sea. Behold rather the height and

glory of the clouds, and the everchanging mists; and listen to the fall of rain upon the Earth! And in

these clouds thou art drawn nearer to Manwë, thy friend, whom thou lovest.'

Then Ulmo answered: 'Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had

my secret thought conceived the snowflake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of the

rain. I will seek Manwë, that he and I may make melodies for ever to my delight!' And Manwë and

Ulmo have from the beginning been allied, and in all things have served most faithfully the purpose

of Ilúvatar.

But even as Ulmo spoke, and while the Ainur were yet gazing upon this vision, it was taken

away and hidden from their sight; and it seemed to them that in that moment they perceived a new

thing, Darkness, which they had not known before except in thought. But they had become

enamoured of the beauty of the vision and engrossed in the unfolding of the World which came

there to being, and their minds were filled with it; for the history was incomplete and the circles of

time not full-wrought when the vision was taken away. And some have said that the vision ceased

ere the fulfilment of the Dominion of Men and the fading of the Firstborn; wherefore, though the

Music is over all, the Valar have not seen as with sight the Later Ages or the ending of the World.

Then there was unrest among the Ainur; but Ilúvatar called to them, and said: 'I know the

desire of your minds that what ye have seen should verily be, not only in your thought, but even as

ye yourselves are, and yet other. Therefore I say: Eä! Let these things Be! And I will send forth into

the Void the Flame Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be;

and those of you that will may go down into it. And suddenly the Ainur saw afar off a light, as it

were a cloud with a living heart of flame; and they knew that this was no vision only, but that

Ilúvatar had made a new thing: Eä, the World that Is.

Thus it came to pass that of the Ainur some abode still with Ilúvatar beyond the confines of

the World; but others, and among them many of the greatest and most fair, took the leave of Ilúvatar

and descended into it. But this condition Ilúvatar made, or it is the necessity of their love, that their

power should thenceforward be contained and bounded in the World, to be within it for ever, until it

is complete, so that they are its life and it is theirs. And therefore they are named the Valar, the

Powers of the World.

But when the Valar entered into Eä they were at first astounded and at a loss, for it was as if

naught was yet made which they had seen in vision, and all was but on point to begin and yet

unshaped, and it was dark. For the Great Music had been but the growth and flowering of thought in

the Tuneless Halls, and the Vision only a foreshowing; but now they had entered in at the beginning

of Time, and the Valar perceived that the World had been but foreshadowed and foresung, and they

must achieve it. So began their great labours in wastes unmeasured and unexplored, and in ages

uncounted and forgotten, until in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the vast halls of Eä there

came to be that hour and that place where was made the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar. And

in this work the chief part was taken by Manwë and Aulë and Ulmo; but Melkor too was there from

the first, and he meddled in all that was done, turning it if he might to his own desires and purposes;

and he kindled great fires. When therefore Earth was yet young and full of flame Melkor coveted it,

and he said to the other Valar: 'This shall be my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself!'

But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument

of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor; and he called unto

himself many spirits both greater and less, and they came down into the fields of Arda and aided

Manwë, lest Melkor should hinder the fulfilment of their labour for ever, and Earth should wither

ere it flowered. And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own,

wrongfully, for many others have laboured here do less than thou.' And there was strife between

Melkor and the other Valar; and for that time Melkor withdrew and departed to other regions and

did there what he would; but he did not put the desire of the Kingdom of Arda from his heart.

Now the Valar took to themselves shape and hue; and because they were drawn into the World

by love of the Children of Ilúvatar, for whom they hoped, they took shape after that manner which

they had beheld in the Vision of Ilúvatar, save only in majesty and splendour. Moreover their shape

comes of their knowledge of the visible World, rather than of the World itself; and they need it not,

save only as we use raiment, and yet we may be naked and suffer no loss of our being. Therefore

the Valar may walk, if they will, unclad, and then even the Eldar cannot clearly perceive them,

though they be present. But when they desire to clothe themselves the Valar take upon them forms

some as of male and some as of female; for that difference of temper they had even from their

beginning, and it is but bodied forth in the choice of each, not made by the choice, even as with us

male and female may be shown by the raiment but is not made thereby. But the shapes wherein the

Great Ones array themselves are not at all times like to the shapes of the kings and queens of the

Children of Ilúvatar; for at times they may clothe themselves in their own thought, made visible in

forms of majesty and dread.

And the Valar drew unto them many companions, some less, some well nigh as great as

themselves, and they laboured together in the ordering of the Earth and the curbing of its tumults.

Then Melkor saw what was done, and that the Valar walked on Earth as powers visible, clad in the

raiment of the World, and were lovely and glorious to see, and blissful, and that the Earth was

becoming as a garden for their delight, for its turmoils were subdued. His envy grew then the

greater within him; and he also took visible form, but because of his mood and the malice that

burned in him that form was dark and terrible. And he descended upon Arda in power and majesty

greater than any other of the Valar, as a mountain that wades in the sea and has its head above the

clouds and is clad in ice and crowned with smoke and fire; and the light of the eyes of Melkor was

like a flame that withers with heat and pierces with a deadly cold.

Thus began the first battle of the Valar with Melkor for the dominion of Arda; and of those

tumults the Elves know but little. For what has here been declared is come from the Valar

themselves, with whom the Eldalië spoke in the land of Valinor, and by whom they were instructed;

but little would the Valar ever tell of the wars before the coming of the Elves. Yet it is told among

the Eldar that the Valar endeavoured ever, in despite of Melkor, to rule the Earth and to prepare it

for the coming of the Firstborn; and they built lands and Melkor destroyed them; valleys they

delved and Melkor raised them up; mountains they carved and Melkor threw them down; seas they

hollowed and Melkor spilled them; and naught might have peace or come to lasting growth, for as

surely as the Valar began a labour so would Melkor undo it or corrupt it. And yet their labour was

not all in vain; and though nowhere and in no work was their will and purpose wholly fulfilled, and

all things were in hue and shape other than the Valar had at first intended, slowly nonetheless the

Earth was fashioned and made firm. And thus was the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar

established at the last in the Deeps of Time and amidst the innumerable stars.

VALAQUENTA

Account of the Valar and Maiar

according to the lore of the

Eldar

In the beginning Eru, the One, who in the Elvish tongue is named Ilúvatar, made the Ainur of his

thought; and they made a great Music before him. In this Music the World was begun; for Ilúvatar

made visible the song of the Ainur, and they beheld it as a light in the darkness. And many among

them became enamoured of its beauty, and of its history which they saw beginning and unfolding as

in a vision. Therefore Ilúvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret

Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Eä.

Then those of the Ainur who desired it arose and entered into the World at the beginning of

Time; and it was their task to achieve it, and by their labours to fulfil the vision which they had

seen. Long they laboured in the regions of Eä, which are vast beyond the thought of Elves and Men,

until in the time appointed was made Arda, the Kingdom of Earth. Then they put on the raiment of

Earth and descended into it, and dwelt therein.

Of the Valar

The Great among these spirits the Elves name the Valar, the Powers of Arda, and Men have often

called them gods. The Lords of the Valar are seven; and the Valier, the Queens of the Valar, are

seven also. These were their names in the Elvish tongue as it was spoken in Valinor, though they

have other names in the speech of the Elves in Middle-earth, and their names among Men are

manifold. The names of the Lords in due order are: Manwë, Ulmo, Aulë, Oromë, Mandos, Lórien,

and Tulkas; and the names of the Queens are: Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Estë, Vairë, Vána, and

Nessa. Melkor is counted no longer among the Valar, and his name is not spoken upon Earth.

Manwë and Melkor were brethren in the thought of Ilúvatar. The mightiest of those Ainur

who came into the World was in his beginning Melkor; but Manwë is dearest to Ilúvatar and

understands most clearly his purposes. He was appointed to be, in the fullness of time, the first of

all Kings: lord of the realm of Arda and ruler of all that dwell therein. In Arda his delight is in the

winds and the clouds, and in all the regions of the air, from the heights to the depths, from the

utmost borders of the Veil of Arda to the breezes that blow in the grass. Súlimo he is surnamed,

Lord of the Breath of Arda. All swift birds, strong of wing, he loves, and they come and go at his

bidding.

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is

her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her

face. In light is her power and her joy. Out of the deeps of Eä she came to the aid of Manwë; for

Melkor she knew from before the making of the Music and rejected him, and he hated her, and

feared her more than all others whom Eru made. Manwë and Varda are seldom parted, and they

remain in Valinor. Their halls are above the everlasting snow, upon Oiolossë, the uttermost tower of

Taniquetil, tallest of all the mountains upon Earth. When Manwë there ascends his throne and looks

forth, if Varda is beside him, he sees further than all other eyes, through mist, and through darkness,

and over the leagues of the sea. And if Manwë is with her, Varda hears more clearly than all other

ears the sound of voices that cry from east to west, from the hills and the valleys, and from the dark

places that Melkor has made upon Earth. Of all the Great Ones who dwell in this world the Elves

hold Varda most in reverence and love. Elbereth they name her, and they call upon her name out of

the shadows of Middle-earth, and uplift it in song at the rising of the stars.

Ulmo is the Lord of Waters. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all

the deep waters about the Earth or under the Earth. He is next in might to Manwë, and before

Valinor was made he was closest to him in friendship; but thereafter he went seldom to the councils

of the Valar, unless great matters were in debate. For he kept all Arda in thought, and he has no need

of any resting-place. Moreover he does not love to walk upon land, and will seldom clothe himself

in a body after the manner of his peers. If the Children of Eru beheld him they were filled with a

great dread; for the arising of the King of the Sea was terrible, as a mounting wave that strides to

the land, with dark helm foam-crested and raiment of mail shimmering from silver down into

shadows of green. The trumpets of Manwë are loud, but Ulmo's voice is deep as the deeps of the

ocean which he only has seen.

Nonetheless Ulmo loves both Elves and Men, and never abandoned them, not even when they

lay under the wrath of the Valar. At times he win come unseen to the shores of Middle-earth, or pass

far inland up firths of the sea, and there make music upon his great horns, the Ulumúri, that are

wrought of white shell; and those to whom that music comes hear it ever after in their hearts, and

longing for the sea never leaves them again. But mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-

earth with voices that are heard only as the music of water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and

springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of

the world. Thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda, which

otherwise would be hidden from Manwë.

Aulë has might little less than Ulmo. His lordship is over all the substances of which Arda is

made. In the beginning he wrought much in fellowship with Manwë and Ulmo; and the fashioning

of all lands was his labour. He is a smith and a master of all crafts, and he delights in works of skill,

however small, as much as in the mighty building of old. His are the gems that lie deep in the Earth

and the gold that is fair in the hand, no less than the walls of the mountains and the basins of the

sea. The Noldor learned most of him, and he was ever their friend. Melkor was jealous of him, for

Aulë was most like himself in thought and in powers; and there was long strife between them, in

which Melkor ever marred or undid the works of Aulë, and Aulë grew weary in repairing the

tumults and disorders of Melkor. Both, also, desired to make things of their own that should be new

and unthought of by others, and delighted in the praise of their skill. But Aulë remained faithful to

Eru and submitted all that he did to his will; and he did not envy the works of others, but sought and

gave counsel. Whereas Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate, until at last he could make nothing

save in mockery of the thought of others, and all their works he destroyed if he could.

The spouse of Aulë is Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits. She is the lover of all things that grow in

the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests

long ago to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould. In reverence Yavanna

is next to Varda among the Queens of the Valar. In the form of a woman she is tall, and robed in

green; but at times she takes other shapes. Some there are who have seen her standing like a tree

under heaven, crowned with the Sun; and from all its branches there spilled a golden dew upon the

barren earth, and it grew green with corn; but the roots of the tree were in the waters of Ulmo, and

the winds of Manwë spoke in its leaves. Kementári, Queen of the Earth, she is surnamed in the

Eldarin tongue.

The Fëanturi, masters of spirits, are brethren, and they are called most often Mandos and

Lórien. Yet these are rightly the names of the places of their dwelling, and their true names are

Námo and Irmo.

Námo the elder dwells in Mandos, which is westward in Valinor. He is the keeper of the

Houses of the Dead, and the summoner of the spirits of the slain. He forgets nothing; and he knows

all things that shall be, save only those that lie still in the freedom of Ilúvatar. He is the Doomsman

of the Valar; but he pronounces his dooms and his Judgements only at the bidding of Manwë. Vairë

the Weaver is his spouse, who weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs,

and the halls of Mandos that ever widen as the ages pass are clothed with them.

Irmo the younger is the master of visions and dreams. In Lórien are his gardens in the land of

the Valar, and they are the fairest of all places in the world, filled with many spirits. Estë the gentle,

healer of hurts and of weariness, is his spouse. Grey is her raiment; and rest is her gift. She walks

not by day, but sleeps upon an island in the tree-shadowed lake of Lórellin. From the fountains of

Irmo and Estë all those who dwell in Valinor draw refreshment; and often the Valar come

themselves to Lórien and there find repose and easing of the burden of Arda.

Mightier than Estë is Nienna, sister of the Fëanturi; she dwells alone. She is acquainted with

grief, and mourns for every wound that Arda has suffered in the marring of Melkor. So great was

her sorrow, as the Music unfolded, that her song turned to lamentation long before its end, and the

sound of mourning was woven into the themes of the World before it began. But she does not weep

for herself; and those who hearken to her learn pity, and endurance in hope. Her halls are west of

West, upon the borders of the world; and she comes seldom to the city of Valimar where all is glad.

She goes rather to the halls of Mandos, which are near to her own; and all those who wait in

Mandos cry to her, for she brings strength to the spirit and turns sorrow to wisdom. The windows of

her house look outward from the walls of the world.

Greatest in strength and deeds of prowess is Tulkas, who is surnamed Astaldo, the Valiant. He

came last to Arda, to aid the Valar in the first battles with Melkor. He delights in wrestling and in

contests of strength; and he rides no steed, for he can outrun all things that go on feet, and he is

tireless. His hair and beard are golden, and his flesh ruddy; his weapons are his hands. He has little

heed for either the past or the future, and is of no avail as a counsellor, but is a hardy friend. His

spouse is Nessa, the sister of Oromë, and she also is lithe and fleetfooted. Deer she loves, and they

follow her train whenever she goes in the wild; but she can outrun them, swift as an arrow with the

wind in her hair. In dancing she delights, and she dances in Valimar on lawns of never-fading green.

Oromë is a mighty lord. If he is less strong than Tulkas, he is more dreadful in anger; whereas

Tulkas laughs ever, in sport or in war, and even in the face of Melkor he laughed in battles before

the Elves were born. Oromë loved the lands of Middle-earth, and he left them unwillingly and came

last to Valinor; and often of old he passed back east over the mountains and returned with his host to

the hills and the plains. He is a hunter of monsters and fell beasts, and he delights in horses and in

hounds; and all trees he loves, for which reason he is called Aldaron, and by the Sindar Tauron, the

Lord of Forests. Nahar is the name of his horse, white in the sun, and shining silver at night. The

Valaróma is the name of his great horn, the sound of which is like the upgoing of the Sun in scarlet,

or the sheer lightning cleaving the clouds. Above all the horns of his host it was heard in the woods

that Yavanna brought forth in Valinor; for there Oromë would train his folk and his beasts for the

pursuit of the evil creatures of. Melkor. The spouse of Oromë is Vána, the Ever-young; she is the

younger sister of Yavanna. All flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and

all birds sing at her coming.

These are the names of the Valar and the Valier, and here is told in brief their likenesses, such

as the Eldar beheld them in Aman. But fair and noble as were the forms in which they were

manifest to the Children of Ilúvatar, they were but a veil upon their beauty and their power. And if

little is here said of all that the Eldar once knew, that is as nothing compared with their true being,

which goes back into regions and ages far beyond our thought. Among them Nine were of chief

power and reverence; but one is removed from their number, and Eight remain, the Aratar, the High

Ones of Arda: Manwë and Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna and Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë. Though

Manwë is their King and holds their allegiance under Eru, in majesty they are peers, surpassing

beyond compare all others, whether of the Valar and the Maiar, or of any other order that Ilúvatar

has sent into Eä.

Of the Maiar

With the Valar came other spirits whose being also began before the World, of the same order as the

Valar but of less degree. These are the Maiar, the people of the Valar, and their servants and helpers.

Their number is not known to the Elves, and few have names in any of the tongues of the Children

of Ilúvatar; for though it is otherwise in Aman, in Middle-earth the Maiar have seldom appeared in

form visible to Elves and Men.

Chief among the Maiar of Valinor whose names are remembered in the histories of the Elder

Days are Ilmarë, the handmaid of Varda, and Eönwë, the banner-bearer and herald of Manwë,

whose might in arms is surpassed by none in Arda. But of all the Maiar Ossë and Uinen are best

known to the Children of Ilúvatar.

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FOREWORDTheSilmarillion,nowpublishedfouryearsafterthedeathofitsauthor,isanaccountoftheElderDays,ortheFirstAgeoftheWorld.InTheLordoftheRingswerenarratedthegreateventsattheendoftheThirdAge;butthetalesofTheSilmarillionarelegendsderivingfromamuchdeeperpast,whenMorgoth,thefirstDarkLord,dweltinMiddle-eart...

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The Silmarillion

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