'Father of Time'
by Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly
(c) 2008
Prologue
Glaurung awoke. Mordor had fallen. He sensed it in his blood - his
spirit. He sensed it, and knew it to be true. Morgoth would not be
pleased. In his tenure in the pit below, dark creatures who had been
chained near him from time to time had spoken of Mordor, Sauron and the
final battle. Yet they had not known its fate. Yet, now he knew. Now
he sensed in the air, in the realm of spirit, the fate of Mordor and
Sauron.
At the top of the crag, overlooking the pit of torment, Glaurung
stared downwards into the pit of the netherworld - the place he had just
finally escaped from, after being cast down by the Valar. Morgoth,
still, dwelt there - his final resting place according to the judgement
of the Valar. Morgoth, greeting Glaurung after having just shattered
the Door of the Night and being judged by the Valar and condemned to the
netherword, still lay somewere in the pit below, searching for escape.
Yet, when they had parted just the evening before, each taking a
differing direction to what was believed would be sanctuary, Glaurung
knew - the dragon of darkness knew - that Morgoth would soon escape as
well.
He sat there, staring downwards. He sat there, and as days passed
to weeks, feeding occasionally, he stared down into the pit, carefully
awaiting the lord of the dark he knew would arise. Time passed slowly.
Carrion surveyed him from time to time, assessing wether he was
actually alive and available food. Occasionally he threatened them, and
they soon departed. Other birdlife hovered around the edge of the pit.
Eagles, hawks, sparrows, owls and various others. It seemed each of
them had come to witness for themselves the emergence of Glaurung and,
perhaps, the soon emergence of the dread Morgoth from the pit of
despair.
He thought on the Valar who, having passed judgement, had cast them
into the pit, never to return. In his dark heart, Glaurung would have
vengeance upon them, and all in league with them. They would be
punished, nay, destroyed. And he would feast on their very souls.
Yes, the Valar would feel his wrath, and, of course, so would any of
the other seed of Turin who yet lived. Turin had slain him with the
dreaded sword Gurthang above the ravine Cabed-en-Aras of the river
Taeglin. The scar from that wounding still ran across his belly, even
in the netheworld were their Valar judges had sent them.
As time passed with no sight of his dark lord, Glaurung thought on
the tale Morgoth had shared with him in the pit below. For too long -
for far too long - Morgoth had been cast to the outer void. Yet Morgoth
had finally escaped that place, defeating the Door of Night.
In the void, Morgoth had brooded and the darkness - the power of the
dark - had grown within him. Eru, the creator, had been there, talking
to Morgoth from time to time. Talking to his son and sharing destiny
and prophecy. Dagor Dagorath awaited, Eru told him often. The final
battle. The final defeat of the shadow of doom. And in that battle, so
Eru chided him, Morgoth would taste final and bitter defeat at the
hands of Turin and the sword Gurthang. And to fulfil that prophecy Eru
gave Melkor dark power. Power of evil and hatred beyond what he had
known in earlier days.
And, when his power had grown sufficient, Melkor had spoken the word
'Nothingness' to the Door of Night, and through the power of infinite
dark, the nothing placed within Melkor by Eru, the Door had ceased to
be, the only way that it could be overcome.
And, now, destiny awaited. Morgoth hated Eru, yet knew he was
powerless against him. He suffered the fate Eru planned for him,
regardless of his own choice. His fate beckoned him onwards each moment
- it beckoned him onwards for, in his mind and heart, he sensed that
beyond the realm of death, should it occur at the hands of Turin, there
awaited something. Something which Eru had only whispered and hinted
at. Something which Eru had only placed subtley into his evil mind and
heart. Yet Morgoth knew - at one point in the whisperings of Eru he
knew - that beyond his service to the fate of death, something awaited.
Something new, something different awaited. And on that, despising the
very word, yet on that hope Morgoth placed his faith.
When the Door of Night had been shattered, and Morgoth had
re-entered Arda, the Valar had been there. They had caught Morgoth,
naming him Melkor, and Tulkas had condemned him to the fate of the pit
of the netherworld, were the dead spirits of darkness lay. He had been
cast down by the Valar, down into the deepest, darkest and most
hate-filled pit. He had been cast down to were Glaurung lay chained,
having now grown wings.
He had been chained next to Glaurung, with the impenetrable chains
of Angainor forged by the Vala Aulë. He had been chained there and,
left with little else to do, spoke with Glaurung and shared his story.
And he had plotted. He had plotted and told Glaurung, once they were
free, what he would plan on doing, of the vengeance that would belong to
him.
And the darkness within Melkor - the darkness had continued to grow.
And, in time, the chains had been shattered. He then shattered
Glaurung's own chains, and they began their journey upwards - a journey
of a million steps.
And then they had parted, sensing they were near the surface, to see
if either could find the quickest way out and tell the other. Glaurung
had found freedom first, and now waited his dark lord, his dark master.
He knew it was inevitable, that Melkor would find freedom. He knew
that. And as he sat and waited, Glaurung thought on the vengeance that
would soon be his.
Sleeping in the early cold of the morning, Glaurung was wakened by a
noise. He looked down into the pit in the early dawn light, and there,
accompanied by three Balrog's, Melkor was climbing up to him. He
watched him, and after the half of an hour had passed, his master stood
before him.
Melkor motioned to the three Balrog's. 'They are former servants, Glaurung. They will come in useful.'
'Yes master. And now?' Morgoth climbed up onto the back of
Glaurung and bid him take to the skies. As Glaurung began his flight
upwards, Melkor finally responded to his query. 'And now destiny
awaits.'
Chapter One
'The Fellowship Anew'
In truth, new life - new beginnings - are sometimes not that easy to
adjust to. Legolas, sitting next to Gimli, observing Samwise Gamgee in
conversation with Frodo, contemplated what had become their new life
and new beginning.
They had been a fellowship once, all those years ago in middle
earth, and then they had each gone to the far west of the grey havens,
and then beyond.
And now, in their new home of Tarador, Tarador on what had become
known as the 'Emerald Isle' of 'Eire', they had tasted the water of
life, the elixir of the Valar, which kept them everlasting like the sun.
They had been granted this for their service in the war of the ring at
the end of the third age. Tulkas had granted them the elixir, from the
pool of eternity in Tarador, and they had drunk deeply.
And now, four centuries later, they were again in the prime of life, the elixir having fully restored them.
'And this quest of yours Gimli, to see home again. When shall you be departing?'
'Dwarves are unpredictable creatures, my elven friend. Who can say when a Dwarf will make up his mind for certain on a matter.'
'Unpredictable you say. How so, valiant dwarf?'
'Yes valiant dwarf, how so?' Gimli and Legolas turned to the
familiar voice that had spoken, finding it to be indeed the one they had
hoped for. 'Gandalf,' said Legolas. 'You have returned.' 'Apparently
like the unpredictable dwarves, the return of one of the Istari can
never be quite fathomed. But yes, Legolas, to answer your question, I
have returned. And is that Frodo and Samwise Gamgee I see approaching.'
Frodo and Sam, who had noticed the appearance of the ancient wizard,
had wandered up from the fountain they had been sitting by, and greeted
their old friend. 'Hail Gandalf,' said Frodo. 'You've returned then,'
said Samwise. 'Yes, I have returned master Gamgee. And it is good to
see you all looking so well, and in fine spirits as well. This past
century must have been good to you.' 'It has been that long, hasn't
it,' said Frodo. 'A hundred years since you left us.' 'Yes indeed
Frodo. As I told you all on my departure, there were still things that
needed to be looked to in middle earth. And I have much news of that to
share with you over these next few weeks. But first, were is Bilbo?
Is he nearby?' Frodo looked at Samwise, a little hesitant to speak of
Bilbo. 'Bilbo is with Elrond, Gandalf. He left near a quarter of a
century ago.' Gandalf had a look of concern on his ancient demeanour.
'With Elrond? Why has he left his home?' Samwise blurted it out. 'He
wants to be wizard. Like you, master Gandalf.' Gandalf looked at
Samwise and Frodo. He turned to Legolas. 'Is this true? Bilbo is
attempting to learn the ways of magic?' Legolas nodded. 'I am afraid
so, Gandalf. It started when your Istari brother, Radagast, returned.
Bilbo grew fascinated with the stories Radagast shared of his time in
middle earth, and when Radagast and Elrond departed for Valinor with
Morwen, Bilbo had convinced Radagast to let him accompany him and to
teach him the ways of magic.'
Gandalf nodded. 'That is a tale. The funny thing is I was with
Radagast early this year in eastern Mordor and he made no mention of
such a thing. Perhaps it slipped his notice.'
'I dare say it did,' commented Frodo.
'What were you doing in eastern Mordor?' asked Samwise. 'I would
have thought you would have tried to forget that forsaken land.'
'Samwise Gamgee! How good it is too see you,' said Gandalf, sitting
down on the stone steps of one of the gardens of Tarador. 'I was in
Mordor discussing things with two very close friends of mine, Samwise.
The Blue Wizards they are known as. Fellow Istari. They go by the
name of Alatar and Pallando.'
'Blue wizards?' queried Sam. 'How many of the Istari are they're anyway, master Gandalf.'
'That is an interesting question Samwise,' said Frodo. 'I don't think Gandalf has ever answered that question.'
'The ways of Eru Illuvatar are often beyond knowing, Frodo. And,
likewise, we of the Istari, who are of the Maiar, servants of the Valar,
have ways also beyond the knowing of mere mortals.'
'Yet, now we are no longer mere mortals, Gandalf,' said Frodo softly.
'Aye lad,' said Gimli. 'That we are no longer.'
'Indeed,' said Gandalf, placing his hand of affection on Gimli's
shoulder. 'And, I suppose as you now partake of immortality through the
elixir of life, that you should now be privy to the ways of eternity?'
'Perhaps such knowledge is now appropriate, Gandalf,' said Legolas.
'They are no longer youths - no longer children. Perhaps, as such,
they should likewise share in some of the mysteries of Arda.'
'A fair comment, Legolas,' said Gandalf. 'Very well, then. I will
speak of things ancient. You know me as Gandalf, yet that is a name
given to me by men. It means Wand Elf, of all things.'
'Elf?' queried Samwise.
'I was once mistaken as such. Yet I am not Elf, nor human. This
form you see before you was chosen. It was chosen for the task we of
the Istari were given - the nurturing of the children of Eru Illuvatar.
The Istari are five in number. Saruman was the head of our order,
dressed in white. I myself was Gandalf the Grey, now in white.
Radagast, who you have met, is Radagast the brown, third in seniority.
And, finally, Alatar and Pallando, the blue wizards. Those two are
equal in rank in our order of the White Council.'
'You said five in number, master Gandalf. Don't you mean four, now that Saruman is dead?' said Samwise.
'No, Samwise. There were, and still are, five of the Istari. While
Saruman did die a mortal death, from there he returned to the Timeless
Halls of Heaven, and saw once more the face of Eru Illuvatar.'
'And how do you know this? Asked Frodo.
'Because I told him,' said a familiar voice, just then making itself known.
The fellowship turned to see a wizard, dressed in grey, with an all to familiar face.
'Saruman!' exclaimed Legolas, reaching for his sword.
'Be at peace, Legolas,' said Gandalf, calming him. 'While this is
indeed Saruman, he is no longer what - no longer who - he was. He is
redeemed and he is once again among the Istari. And now he is Saruman
the Grey.'
'Saruman the Grey!' exclaimed Frodo to himself.
'And you trust him!', exclaimed Samwise.
'Master Samwise,' began Saruman. 'When one has been lectured to by
Eru Illuvatar himself, one begins to remember the purpose his life
serves. I am no longer who I was. No longer of the power of darkness.'
Samwise looked at Saruman. 'God lectured you?'
'Yes, God,' Saruman said to himself. 'The westron word they now use
about Eru. But to answer your question, yes master Samwise, God
lectured me. He makes himself known to all the Valar and Maiar. It is
from him we have come to be. It is from Eru Illuvatar that life begins.
And, so, when I received a correction to my former thinking, a new
life, as it were, began. I once again rekindled my love for and passion
for middle earth and its people, and Eru entrusted to me once more my
position amongst the Istari, now as Saruman the Grey, under Master
Gandalf.'
'Why would Eru trust him, Gandalf. After all he did?'
'Samwise, I know you are not the most trusting of souls.'
'With good reason,' said Samwise, eyeing Saruman.
'Yet all of us - from the greatest to the least - deserve a second chance. Would you not agree.'
'Come on Samwise. Saruman is now our friend.' said Frodo, nodding in the direction of Saruman, who nodded likewise in response.
'Your friend, Frodo. I will never trust him.'
'Be that as it may, master Gamgee, Saruman is now a friend of ours. Isn't that right Gandalf?' said Gimli.
'Indeed that is true,' responded Gandalf.
'Tell us. How fairs Arwen at Rivendell?' asked Legolas.
'I am afraid, since Aragorn's passing, she is still in mourning.
She promises me that, in the course of due time, she will rejoin the
land of the living, as she has so elegantly stated. Yet, for now, she
dresses in black and mourns her lost love. Yet, I sense, her mourning
is near complete. She has finally accepted that Aragorn was a man, and
she an immortal elf. And that the life of love between them, which
indeed was true love, was and could only be fleeting, as the snows of
winter likewise melting with the onset of spring.'
Saruman spoke up. 'The affairs of the heart, as my brother would
put it, are dark and hidden at times, often never showing their true
selves. Arwen's love for Aragorn, though, was plain to all. Even I at
Isengard knew of this love. Her heart though, as all do, will mend. It
will heal and come, one day, to the brightness of a new day dawning and
realize that new life inevitably draws one onwards, as dawn moves
onwards to a brand new day. She may never forget Aragorn, yet her
spirit will move inevitably and inexorably forwards. She is elven. She
is of the blood of immortality.'
'Well said, Saruman,' said Gandalf.
Samwise looked at Saruman and, somewhat consoled, nodded softly.
Frodo spoke up. 'What news of the Shire? How fares life in
Hobbiton?' Gandalf smiled. 'My dear Frodo, as much as life in the past
age had its comings and goings, rarely familiar with the ways of
Hobbits and the Shire, Hobbiton stands much the same. And upon my last
visit, Bag End was again being occupied. By one certain young female
hobbit by the name of 'Jando Baggins'.
'Jando Baggins!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Bag End is still in Baggins
ownership?' 'Indeed it is, Frodo my friend. I spoke with her of you
and Bilbo. I did not mention your being still alive, but did not quite
deny that either, and I feel with some of the things I had said and some
of her queries, she may have gained suspicion. We had a wonderful
evening with her father, tracing Baggins ancestory and finding yourself
and Bilbo amongst their ancestory. She is something of a neice of yours
it would seem. A fiery, redheaded Baggins. A handful even on a good
day.'
Frodo smiled, ever so pleased to learn Bag End was still in Baggins ownership, and curious about his new 'neice' Jando.
'Yes, I see Jando in you,' said Saruman. 'Really, quite a strong resemblance. And the same passion for life, it would seem.'
Frodo smiled, ever so pleased at news of new blood in the Baggins clan.
'And the Gamgee's?' asked Samwise. Gandalf turned to Sam and placed
his ancient hands upon Sam's shoulders. 'I believe, Samwise, if I have
it correct, you are now a great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.'
'How many greats was that Gandalf? I lost count,' bemoaned Samwise.
'Too many, it would seem, for you dear Samwise. Suffice to say you
are a father yet again. Meriadoc Gamgee was the latest addition to your
household upon my parting from the shire. A young wee lad, barely
eighteen.'
'Meriadoc?' queried Frodo.
'Yes Meriadoc,' replied Gandalf. 'I can only hope that the
foolishness of 'Merry Brandybuck' does not run in his veins. But no,
forgive me. Merry was dear to me, as to all of us, and his passing his
missed.'
The fellowship paused for a moment, reflecting on one now gone from them, along with the beloved Peregrin Took.
'Really, my friends,' began Gandalf, 'life in middle earth comes and
goes much as you have always known it too. The kingdoms of men are
currently at peace, a much needed peace, and little it seems would
disturb our pleasant slumber. Little yet, perhaps, not nothing.'
'You would speak of the rumblings,' queried Saruman to Gandalf. 'Are you sure they should yet know.'
'It is best, often, to air things when hearts are affected, Saruman.
And I think that this fellowship of ours, having grown strong from
past battles and adventures, can warrant news such as we have.'
'What news?' asked Frodo, whose curiousity had been aroused.
'Yes, tell us Gandalf,' said Legolas, a comment echoed by the others present.
Gandalf stood and walked over to the fountain, looking down into the
pool were goldfish were swimming around. He turned, looked at Saruman,
and looked up at the heavens. The news he had was rumour - and perhaps
just that; nothing but rumour. Yet, if true - if indeed true - then
the lives of the fellowship would soon be set on a course of action. An
inevitable and unalterable course of action. He took an apple out of
his vast cloak, from a hidden pocket, and took a bite. He savoured the
freshness, just picked in a garden of Tarador, and looked at the
fellowship. He would now speak of things he himself feared.
'Rumour has it, friends, of an ancient enemy having returned to Arda. An ancient enemy, surpassing the might of even Sauron.'
Frodo and Samwise looked at Gandalf, a look of concern on their faces, yet neither spoke. Eventually Legolas spoke up.
'There is, Gandalf, only one greater in might than Sauron. And he is gone, lost in the great void. He can not return.'
'Legolas, I can only wish that that were true. Yet, it would seem
in the mysteries of prophecy, that the ancient oracle of Mandos, once
known as Namo of the Valar, judge of the dead, the oracle of 'Dagor
Dagorath' may now, in the eternal wisdom of Eru Illuvatar, be, dare I
say it, coming to pass.
Legolas looked at Gandalf, and turned away. He remembered, then,
that prophecy taught him in youth, knowing the fate of the world and the
final great battle.
'What is Dagor Dagorath, Gandalf?' asked Frodo.
'Perhaps I can answer that,' began Saruman.
Mandos, or Namo as he was once known as, is of the Valar. Yet he
does not reside here in Tarador, choosing to remain in Valinor. He
uttered, and never by his own cognition, the oracle of Dagor Dagorath.
According to the prophecy our ancient enemy, Morgoth will discover
how to break the Door of Night, and will destroy the Sun and the Moon.
Out of love for the sun and moon, Eärendil will return from the sky and
shall meet Tulkas, Fionwë, and Túrin Turambar on the plains of Valinor.
Supposedly, all the Free Peoples of Middle-earth will participate in
this final battle, Elves, Men and Dwarves alike.
There the forces of the Valar shall fight against Morgoth, or Melkor
as he is known, who will have resurrected many of his old followers,
including our dread enemy Sauron. Tulkas will wrestle with him, but it
will be by the hand of Túrin that finally death and destruction will be
dealt to Melkor. Túrin will run his black sword Gurthang through
Melkor's heart, thus avenging the Children of Húrin. Then the Pelóri
Mountains will be levelled, the three Silmarils will be recovered from
the Earth, sea, and sky, and Fëanor's spirit shall be released from the
halls of Mandos to give them to Yavanna, who will break them and
rekindle the light of the Two Trees. The battle will end and renew
Arda's existence: all the Elves shall awake and the Powers will be young
again. Also, according to Dwarven legends, they will help their maker
Aulë recreate Arda in all its glory again.
Following this, there will be a Second Music of the Ainur. This song
will sing into being a new world. Men will sing it with the Ainur. It
is unknown what the fate of the old races, or of the old world, will be
in the new one, as Mandos did not say. Even the Ainur do not know
anything of the second world or the Second Music. All the Ainur know is
that the Second Music will be greater than the First Music.
Strangely, Mando uttered two of such prophecies, each with slightly
differing detail, which suggests numerous possibilities. In the
original prophecy Mando wrote that none of the dooms he had declared
showed whether the Marring of Arda would ever be repaired. Whereas the
Second Prophecy explicitly states that the Elves and Valar shall be
renewed after Dagor Dagorath and that the fate of Men is unknown.'
The fellowship, thinking on the words of Saruman, contemplated the great day of Dagor Dagorath.
Frodo, having made the connection in his mind about the rumours of an ancient evil having returned, spoke up.
'Morgoth has returned. They are the rumours, aren't they.'
'I am afraid so, Frodo,' responded Gandalf.
'Did I hear correctly that Sauron will be resurrected? I thought we were rid of him for good,' said Sam.
'Yes, that is the prophecy. Sauron, and many other servants of
Morgoth, will re-awaken, to partake in the final battle. To show the
final wrath of the Hand of Doom,' responded Saruman.
'Again with a war to end an age.' Stated Gimli, a slight tone of sarcasm apparent to all.
'Yes, Gimli. It would appear this battle is to end the fourth age. I dare say little else could.'
'And beyond that,' asked Frodo.
'A time, perhaps, my hobbit friend, in which the ways of the Istari
may gradually be less and less called after. There are other tales,
traditions as it were, connected to Mandos prophesy, which speak of a
new emerging world. A world much less like this current one and
dominated, in the main, by the children of men. A world in which
hobbits, dwarves and elves are spoken of in myth and legend. A world in
which the children of men have emerged as the final great victors.'
Samwise looked concerned. 'If that happens Gandalf, what will happen to the Hobbits.'
'I feel, master Samwise, that perhaps only Eru Illuvatar himself
could answer you that question. But, in speculation, they will have
withdrawn from the world, in the main. Withdrawn into lost and hidden
cities, away from the new world of men. Alongside them the elves and
dwarves will remain hidden as, supposedly in the most ancient prophecy
shared with the Istari, the children of Men and their great King, the
chosen one, rule middle earth.'
'Great King?' queried Legolas?
'The anointed one, Legolas. The one upon which Eru Illuvatar will
place his spirit - his essence. The one hidden from us for the ages, to
be revealed in the last days - in the times of the last things.'
'We elves know nothing of such a prophecy.' Stated Legolas flatly.
'Nor would you, began Saruman. It is of the domain of the Valar and
Maiar, and of them alone. It is shared rarely at that, and with only
the chosen few who will show responsibility with such information. And,
from Gandalf's judgement, it appears you are among the chosen.'
'And this age of men. Will it last forever? Will elves return to middle earth?' asked Legolas earnestly.
Gandalf looked at him, understanding his natural concerns. 'There
is much in the ancient prophecy, yet much not remembered, as it was
forbidden to be recorded, but to live on only in memory. Yet, there is a
figure. A figure in opposition to the anointed one. An opponent - an
adversary. A power, greater in darkness and might than even Morgoth
himself.'
'And who is this power? asked Frodo.
Gandalf looked at Saruman. 'That power is the power that tempts us
to evil, even still to this day as we are tempted. It goes by many
names. Ha Satan. The Devil. The fallen one. It comes from the realm
of the anointed one, hidden from us - a realm created, it would seem,
parallel to our abode in the timeless halls. Yet, its spirit lurks even
here, and would one day conquer and destroy us also, if it were to
prevail. It is at the end of the age of men that the fallen one will
take part in the final battle with the anointed one. And, if the elves
are to return to middle earth, it is perhaps beyond then, a time we know
nothing of, that middle earth will call them home once again.'
Legolas nodded, seemingly satisfied at that answer.
Samwise stroked his head, his head full of news. 'So much to take
in, Gandalf. This Morgoth, who you named Melkor. I have heard the
Valar speak of him from time to time. Who is he exactly?' asked
Samwise, turning to Saruman.
'It is best you sit Samwise, for I shall speak at length. Morgoth
Bauglir, originally known as Melkor was the most powerful of the Ainur,
but turning to darkness, became Morgoth, the "great enemy", the ultimate
antagonist of Arda, from whom all evil in the world of Middle-earth
ultimately stems. Sauron, one of the Maiar of Aulë, switched his
allegiance and became the principal lieutenant of Morgoth.
Before the creation of Arda, Melkor was the most powerful of the
Ainur. He contended with Eru, via the Music of the Ainur. Melkor was
jealous of Eru, and wanted to create and rule other wills himself. He
spent a long time looking for the Secret Fire, the "Flame Imperishable".
Unlike his fellow Ainu Aulë, Melkor was too proud to admit that his
creations were simply discoveries wholly made possible by, and therefore
belonging to, Eru. Instead, Melkor aspired to the level of Eru, the
true Creator of all possibilities.
During the Great Music of the Ainur, Melkor attempted to alter the
Music and introduced what he believed to be elements purely of his own
design. As part of these efforts, he drew many weaker-willed Ainur to
him -- creating a counter to Eru's main theme. Ironically, these
attempts did not truly subvert the Music, but only elaborated Eru's
original intentions: the Music of Eru took on depth and beauty precisely
because of the strife and sadness Melkor's disharmonies, and their
rectification, introduced.
Since the Great Music of the Ainur stood as template for all of
history and all of material creation in the Middle-earth cycle, asit was
first sung before Time, and then the universe was made in its image,
there was an aspect of everything in Middle-earth that came of Melkor's
meddling - everything had been corrupted.
After the Creation, many Ainur entered into Eä. The most powerful
of them were called the Valar, or Powers of the World; the lesser, who
acted as their followers and assistants, were the Maiar, of who myself
and Gandalf as Istari belong to. They immediately set about the ordering
of the universe and Arda within it, according to the themes of Eru as
best they understood them. Melkor and his followers entered Eä as well,
and they set about ruining and undoing whatever the others did.
Each of the Valar was attracted to a particular aspect of the world
that became the focus of their powers. Melkor was drawn to terrible
extremes and violence -- bitter cold, scorching heat, earthquakes,
rendings, breakings, utter darkness, burning light, and so on. His
power was so great that at first the Valar were unable to restrain him.
Arda never seemed to achieve a stable form until the Vala Tulkas entered
Eä and tipped the balance.
Driven out by Tulkas, Melkor brooded in the darkness at the outer
reaches of Arda until an opportune moment arrived when Tulkas was
distracted. Melkor re-entered Arda and attacked and destroyed the Two
Lamps, which at the time were the only sources of light. Arda was
plunged into darkness, and the island of Almaren, the first home of the
Valar on Earth, was destroyed in the violence of the lamps' fall.
After the fall of the Lamps, the Valar withdrew into the land of
Aman in the far West. The country where they settled was called Valinor,
which they heavily fortified. Melkor held dominion over Middle-earth
from his fortress of Utumno in the North.
Melkor's first reign ended after the Elves, the eldest of the
Children of Ilúvatar, awoke at the shores of Cuiviénen, and the Valar
resolved to rescue them from his malice. The Valar waged devastating war
on Melkor, and destroyed Utumno. Melkor was bound with a specially
forged chain, Angainor and brought to Valinor, where he was imprisoned
in the Halls of Mandos for three ages.
Melkor had captured a number of Elves before the Valar attacked him,
and he tortured and corrupted them, breeding the first Orcs. Yet, also
orcs were bred as corruptions of Men, or alternatively as soulless
beings animated solely by the will of their evil lord.
Upon his release, Melkor was paroled to Valinor, though he was not
trusted by some of the Valar. He made a pretence of humility and
virtue, but secretly plotted harm toward the Elves, whose awakening he
blamed for his defeat. The Noldor, wisest of the three kindreds of Elves
that had come to Valinor, were most vulnerable to his plots, since he
had much knowledge they eagerly sought, and while instructing them he
also awoke unrest and discontent among them. When the Valar became aware
of this they sent Tulkas to arrest him, but Melkor had already fled.
With the aid of Ungoliant, a dark spirit in the form of a monstrous
spider, he destroyed the Two Trees of Valinor, slew the King of the
Noldor, Finwë, and stole the three Silmarils, jewels made by Finwë's son
Fëanor, which were filled with the light of the Trees. Fëanor thereupon
named him Morgoth, 'Black Foe of the World', and the Eldar knew him by
this name alone afterwards.
Morgoth resumed his rule in the North of Middle-earth, this time in
Angband, a lesser fortress than Utumno, but not so completely destroyed.
He rebuilt it, and raised above it the volcanic triple peak of
Thangorodrim. The Silmarils he set into a crown of iron, which he wore
at all times. Fëanor and most of the Noldor pursued him, along the way
committing the Kinslaying and incurring the Doom of Mandos. On arriving
in Beleriand, the region of Middle-earth nearest Angband, the Noldor
established kingdoms and made war on Morgoth. Soon afterwards, the Sun
and the Moon arose for the first time, and Men awoke. The major battles
of the ensuing war included the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, Dagor Aglareb, Dagor
Bragollach at which the long-standing Siege of Angband was broken, and
the battle of Nírnaeth Arnoediad when the armies of the Noldor and the
Men allied with them were routed and the men of the East joined Morgoth.
Over the next several decades, Morgoth destroyed the remaining Elven
kingdoms, reducing their domain to an island in the Bay of Balar to
which many refugees fled, and a small settlement at the Mouths of Sirion
under the protection of Ulmo.
Before the Nírnaeth Arnoediad the Man Beren and Elf Lúthien the
daughter of Thingol entered Angband and recovered a Silmaril from
Morgoth's crown. It was inherited by their granddaughter Elwing, who
joined those dwelling at the Mouths of Sirion. Her husband Eärendil,
wearing the Silmaril on his brow, sailed across the sea to Valinor,
where he pled with the Valar to liberate Middle-earth from Morgoth.
During the ensuing War of Wrath, Beleriand and much of the north of
Middle-earth was destroyed and reshaped. In the end, Morgoth was utterly
defeated. His armies were almost entirely slaughtered. The dragons were
almost all destroyed, and Thangorodrim was shattered when Eärendil slew
the greatest of them, Ancalagon the Black, who crashed upon it as he
fell. The few remaining dragons were scattered, and the handful of
surviving Balrogs hid themselves deep within the earth. Morgoth fled
into the deepest pit and begged for pardon, but his feet were cut from
under him, his crown was made into a collar, and he was chained once
again with Angainor. The Valar exiled him permanently from the world,
thrusting him through the Door of Night into the void, and he is not
expected to return until the prophesied Dagor Dagorath, of which we have
just learned.
The name Morgoth is Sindarin, and means 'Black Enemy'. Bauglir is
also Sindarin, meaning 'Tyrant' or 'Oppressor'. 'Morgoth Bauglir' is
actually an epithet: his name in Ainulindalë is Melkor, which means 'He
Who Arises In Might' in Quenya. But this too is an epithet since he,
like all the Ainur, had another true name in Valarin, the language of
the Ainur before Time, but this name is forbidden to be mentioned. The
Sindarin equivalent of Melkor is Belegûr, but it was never used; instead
a deliberately resembling name Belegurth, meaning 'Great Death', has
been used, though still rarely.
His name of 'Morgoth' did not arise until Melkor destroyed the Two
Trees, murdered Finwë and stole the Silmarils in the First Age. Prior to
this point, he was called only Melkor. But after these events, Fëanor,
son of Finwë, dubbed him 'Morgoth', and the Elves called him thereafter
by that name alone.
Like Sauron, he had a host of other titles: Lord of the Dark, the
Dark Power of the North, and Great Enemy. The Edain called him the Dark
King and the Dark Power; the Númenóreans corrupted by Sauron called him
the Lord of All and the Giver of Freedom.
In the legend of the Children of Húrin, there is a more complete
version of a story summarized in our revered text 'Quenta Silmarillion'.
Húrin along with his younger brother Huor were leaders of the House of
Hador, one of the three kindred of elf-friends. At Nírnaeth Arnoediad
they covered the escape of Turgon to Gondolin by sacrificing their army
and themselves. Huor was slain, but Húrin was brought before Morgoth
alive. In revenge for his aid to Turgon and his defiance, Morgoth cursed
Húrin and his children, binding Húrin to a seat upon Thangorodrim and
forcing him to witness all that happened to his children in the
succeeding years.
Melkor could initially take any shape, but his first recorded form
was "...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." At the time he slew the Two Trees and
stole the Silmarils, he took to himself the shape of the great Dark
Lord: gigantic and terrifying. The diminution of his power in this time
and his own desire for lordship destroyed his ability to freely change
shape, and he became bound to this one terrible form. His hands were
burned by the theft of the Silmarils, and never healed. In his fight
with High King Fingolfin, he suffered several wounds; his foot was hewn
by Fingolfin's Sword of Ice Crystal, Ringil. At the end of this battle,
Thorondor, the great Eagle, swooped down and scarred Morgoth's face with
his talons, a wound that also never healed. In battle he wore black
armour and wielded Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld. The great
battering ram of Mordor was named for this weapon. He also wielded a
black spear, and a poison sword.
Melkor's powers were originally immense - greater than those of any
other single Ainu. He shared a part of the powers of every other Vala,
but unlike them used it for domination of the whole of Arda. To
accomplish this Morgoth dispersed his being throughout Arda, tainting
its very fabric; and only Aman was free of it. His person thus became
ever more diminished and restricted.
Pity is beyond Morgoth's understanding, as is courage. As he alone
of the Valar bound himself to a physical, and therefore destructible,
body, he alone of the Valar knew fear.
Because Morgoth was the most powerful creature in Arda, many
"flocked to his banner." Morgoth's chief servants were Maiar he
corrupted or monsters he created: Sauron, later the Dark Lord of Mordor
and his chief servant; the Balrogs, including Gothmog, the Lord of
Balrogs and High-Captain of Angband; Glaurung, the Father of Dragons;
Ancalagon "the Black", greatest of the Winged Dragons; Carcharoth, the
mightiest wolf that ever lived; Draugluin, Sire of Werewolves; and
Thuringwethil, Sauron's vampire messenger.
Ungoliant, a demon in spider form, helped Melkor destroy the Two
Trees. But this alliance was temporary; when Melkor refused to yield the
Silmarils to Ungoliant, she attacked him. He had spread his power and
malice too thin, and had weakened himself too much to fight back; he
escaped only through the arrival of the Balrogs.
When the race of Men awoke, Morgoth temporarily left Angband to live
among them. Some men worshipped him, banning Ilúvatar from their
hearts.
Morgoth was known to betray his own servants. After the Noldor were
defeated, he confined all Men in his service to the lands of Hithlum,
their only prize the pillage of that land, though they had fought to win
richer lands in Beleriand. Since he could never fully dominate Men, he
could never really trust them, and indeed feared them.
There is often a distinction between the Ainu Melkor, the most
powerful of Eru's created beings, and Morgoth, the diminished being that
styled itself Dark Lord of Arda. This distinction is not limited to the
change in name.
As described in "Ainulindalë", Melkor's discord marred the Music of
the Ainur in Heaven. Melkor's thematic variations in that Music amounted
to his own self-elaboration. Each Ainu arose from a divine theme,
existing beforehand only in the mind of Eru. Eä, or the World that Is,
is shaped after the Music. Thus, the evil that Melkor weaves into the
Music was mirrored in Eä by the evil he wove into the fabric of reality.
As a result, the Arda was 'Marred': the conceptions of the Valar never
came about, and Melkor's very essence was present in all creation.
Melkor's inability to perform true creation is tied to the idea that
something of his actual being must pass into the things he 'created',
in order to give them an effective substance and reality. Melkor could
not create something as he did not possess the imperishable flame; thus
he could only create a mockery of those things in Arda. From his Trolls
to the Sun, which was made from a flower from a Tree poisoned by
Ungoliant, and was thus itself imperfect, Melkor's power and essence was
poured into Arda. Melkor's individual self was diminished as a
consequence. He was reduced to Morgoth, the 'Dark Enemy.'
Morgoth, once the most powerful being in Eä, spent his will on his
vast armies and followers, so that in the War of Wrath, as his armies
were swept away before the host of Aman, he was captured by Eönwë and
cast off his throne. And as we know, Morgoth's spirit was cast out
beyond the Walls of Night.'
Samwise spoke up. 'And it is from there he has returned then? He has broken the walls of night?
'That we do not yet know for sure, Samwise,' said Gandalf. 'Our
information comes from Radagast, who in turned learned this news from
the Blue Wizards. They have a palantir, and they claim they have seen
something. A vision, as it were. A vision of a figure riding a dragon
who they were certain was 'Glaurung', yet strangely now with wings. And
they sensed within the vision a voice of evil, one which spoke these
words, 'I see you.' And then nothing more.
Legolas grimaced. 'Those words sound all too familiar, Gandalf.
Words of evil, once spoken to those we have once known.' Gandalf
nodded, recalling the event in Rohan all those years ago.
'Then he has returned then. It is certain?' began Samwise.
'Nothing, truly, can be certain, Samwise. It was once deemed
certain that the Sun will always shine, yet perhaps that, soon, may not
be. In this life we live so much happens that is, in some ways, as
unpredictable as our dwarven friend Gimli.'
Gimli nodded, a little embarrassed in response.
'Yet, if I were to say wether I believed Morgoth had returned, I
fear I could not now deny this proposition. And, it is because of this
reality, amongst many, that I have returned to you. For now we have
work - again work - and a quest to undertake. If, indeed, Dagor
Dagorath approaches, then there is much to prepare for and much to be
concerned with. A battle approaches. A final, dark and bitter battle.
A battle which will resolve much in middle earth and prepare the way
for the new age dawning. It is a battle, my dear friends, that we need
to be prepared for. A battle which will change us, once and for all.'
Heads nodded at Gandalf's words. Faces which had seen evil and
bitterness before, nodded, understanding the war which lay ahead.
Understanding, yet not knowing, that the fate of their world was to
again be put to the ultimate test.
'Yet, let us retire to the palace. I wish to speak with Manwe, as I
have not seen him since returning. There is still so much to speak of.
So much to be readied and prepared for. So much, yet again, ahead of
us my dear friends.' Upon those words, Gandalf turned and made his way
up the stone steps towards the palace of Manwe, at the heart of Tarador
on the Emerald Isle. The fellowship fell in line behind him and each of
them contemplated the future. A future that was, as inexorably as the
hand of Morgoth himself, now moving towards them. A future most
uncertain indeed.
Chapter Two
'An Unexpected Return'
'Well, all things considered Radagast, I have had the time of my
life. And now, so many years gone, but now, to see the Shire once more.
To see home again. And to see if Bag End is still there, as I left
it.' Radagast smiled at his companion of a quarter of a century, one
whom he had now taught much of the ways of wizardry. 'I will, of
course, visit you from time to time Bilbo. Yet my brothers in Mordor
and I have still much to do in Middle Earth. And while I have
accompanied you thus far, I yearn to return to them.'
'As soon as we get to Bag End and I am settled, I will let you go then. As we agreed Radagast.'
'As we agreed then.'
Radagast the Brown of the Istari, and his travelling companion,
Bilbo Baggins, had left Rivendell three nights prior and were
approaching the shire. For 25 long years Radagast had taught bilbo many
lessons of wizardry, first in Valinor, and then in his journeys in
middle earth. Radagast had been disappointed when Bilbo had missed
seeing Gandalf in Mordor, Bilbo having been holed up in restored
Isengard, studying various texts of wizardry that Radagast had devised
in his early years upon middle earth. At first, Radagast had been
somewhat reluctant to teach Bilbo things. At Valinor, Radagast had
given Bilbo a small gem. A small, firey gem, in the form of an amulet
to wear around his neck. He had not explained to Bilbo the origin of
the Amulet, which he knew he mustn't for fear of what it could do in
evil hands. Yet he had explained the basic notion that Bilbo's newfound
powers of wizardry drew their strength from the gem. And then he had
taught him much in the way of the code of ethics of those who stood on
the white council in their service to Eru Illuvatar and the Valar. And,
perhaps foolishly, yet in a spirit of patience, Radagast had allowed
Bilbo to discover the ways of the Istari and tutored him on the
responsibilities that followed.
His new apprentice had studied carefully, attentively listening to
Radagast's every word. He had studied, and carefully applied his art
under Radagast's careful eye.
In the end, Radagast understood that, as befitted his mandate
amongst the children of Eru Illuvatar, that Bilbo be allowed to learn
those things which his heart desired. To grow in knowledge and skill,
as a child now chosen for immortality, was rightfully due. And while he
suspected that he may not have the complete approval of the new head of
order of the Istari, Gandalf the white, Radagast had been willing to
take any rebuke upon himself to guide his new steward.
'Tell me a tale, Radagast. Tell me another tale. A tale of days long ago,' asked Bilbo of his teacher.
'Another tale, Bilbo. You seem never to get sick of them. Yet, as
you wish.' Radagast looked up at the trees along their road and thought
on the many ancient tales he could share. And then one, in particular,
came to him.
'I will share with you, Bilbo, of the opening words of Ainulindalë,
which tells of the time before Time. Eru Ilúvatar, as his names imply,
existed before and independently of all else. He could take a particular
concept, thesis or theme, and 'give a secret fire to it', will it into
being, so it existed as a distinct object or entity. Such existence
itself is a representation and concretization of divine
conceptualizations: there is first the idea, then the concrete, or
'objective', manifestation commensurate with that idea. The 'Ainur',
meaning 'Holy Ones', were the first such concepts-embodied or
themes-realized; they were and are the children 'of Ilúvatar's thought.'
Upon their creation, when nothing else existed, Ilúvatar taught the
Ainur the art of 'Music', which became their life and work. So Heaven
became filled with the making of Music.
With each Ainu comprehending at first only those secondary ideas and
themes most closely related to that primary idea-theme-thought of
Ilúvatar's which pre-figured itself, these creative musical elaborations
only gradually, through exposure to each other, become collaborative.
The compositions revolve around themes given to each Ainu by Ilúvatar,
which themes correspond respectively to those primary themes or concepts
embodied in each Ainu - that indeed are each Ainu. Through listening
and contemplation, an Ainu becomes aware of other Ainur, other musics,
and the cultivation and adornment of other themes.
After a time of Music, Ilúvatar proposed a first 'great' design to
all the Ainur at once: a symphony for His pleasure. He then charged them
with the collective elaboration of this great theme. They were to play
themselves at composition.
While it is true that the Ainur are Ilúvatar's thoughts embodied,
they each have a life of their own, and were expected to utilize their
'freedom' by cultivating the grand theme. Only in the future, at the
'end of days', will all the created beings of Ilúvatar fully understand
not only the divinely provided concepts and themes they each personally
embody, but how each relates to all the others and fits, as per
Ilúvatar's intentions in the entire greater scheme.
In the grand theme, Melkor is introduced, and the Ainur begin their
Chorus. Melkor was the most powerful of the Ainur and as knowing much of
Ilúvatar's thoughts, including something of each of the primary themes
that prefigure the other Ainur. He developed impatience with the
schoolish process of thematic elaboration: like a precocious child,
Melkor began thinking of certain musical ideas and themes as being 'all
his own', and he felt compelled to develop them apace. Melkor even
harboured the desire to externally manifest his own ideas, private
ideas, as he thought them, and to become a creator of beings himself.
When the choir of the Ainur finally embarked on the fully collaborative
elaboration of Ilúvatar's grand plan, Melkor participated with all the
others, yet he stood forth and inserted his very different thematic
adornments, which disrupted the harmony. One reason his music was so
different is that he'd spent too much time 'alone,' so his themes appear
to have a singular, rather than contextual, origin. The 'battle' in the
choir of the Ainur raged back and forth with the 'pro-Ilúvatar' Music
described as "deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an
immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came." Melkor's
music, on the other hand, is said to have been "loud, and vain, and
endlessly repeated ... And it essayed to drown the other music by the
violence of its voice ... " But, despite Melkor's best efforts to mar
and utterly overthrow the Great Music, his discordant music's "most
triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn
pattern."One was very great and deep and beautiful, but it was mingled
with an unquenchable sorrow, while the other was now grown to unity and a
system of its own, but was loud and vain and arrogant, braying
triumphantly against the other as it thought to drown it, yet ever, as
it essayed to clash most fearsomely, finding itself but in some manner
supplementing or harmonizing with its rival.' "The other had grown to a
unity and system, yet an imperfect one, save insofar as derived still
from the eldest theme of Ilúvatar
The Great Music of the Ainur progressed thus: Ilúvatar introduced a
First Theme to the choir of the Ainur and Melkor 'spoiled' it,
converting many of the Ainur to his cause in the process. These fallen
Ainur became at latter times characters like the Balrogs, Ungoliant and
Sauron himself. Next, Ilúvatar imposed a Second Theme, and again Melkor
corrupted it. Ilúvatar then proposed a Third Theme that Melkor also
corrupted, so that the Music became a raging disharmony. Ilúvatar put an
end to the disharmony with the conducting of one chord, deeper than the
Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of
Ilúvatar. After the Great Music stopped, Ilúvatar promptly praised
Melkor, chastised him, and then leaves the Ainur for time to their own
thoughts.
Ilúvatar later called the Ainur together and 'showed' them a
'Vision'. The Vision was of what the transliteration of their
collaborative Great Music into a material reality would be like. They
were shown that the Music has a point, has a result and effect beyond
its composition and singing: it amounted to no less than a highly
detailed template commensurate with the entire history - beginning to
end - of a material, 'physical' Universe that could exist inside 'time'.
During this preview of the Birth, Life and Death of Ea, the Ainur
beheld and contemplated all the aspects of material reality, which
aspects were each associated with themes associated with particular
Ainu. As the Ainur gazed out on this preview, Melkor saw in detail how
even his most private ideas and themes, even his most disruptive and
destructive efforts, in the end served only to fully elaborate
Ilúvatar's master plan, design, theme and will. Melkor was shown that
his private themes, as Melkor thought them to be, were in fact elements
of that plan and tributary to its glory."
The Ainur saw in the Vision that there were things none of them
remembered composing, and things they perhaps remembered composing but
did not at the time fully understand. The Children of Ilúvatar are first
mentioned here, the future home of the Children, being Arda, becomes
known, and some positively fascinating advice was given: do not read too
much into the relative size of Arda as compared to Ea, or be overly
impressed with the immensity of Space compared to, say, the delicacy and
complexity of design in a mustard seed. Many of the Ainur, including
Melkor, became enamoured of the Earth, though Melkor still wanted to
dominate it and the Children. The Ainur, looking out at the preview of
all creation, came to believe that Water, of all the substances and
energies of material reality, most completely echoed the collaborative
elaboration that was the propounding and cultivating of Ilúvatar's
entire creative plan. The Ainur rejoice in Light, but at the sounds of
the Sea they feel "a great unquiet.
While Melkor is the first Ainu properly named, and the first Ainu to
whom Ilúvatar directly spoke, Ulmo 'The Pourer' or 'The Rainer', is the
second on both counts: right after the point is made that Water is the
fullest echo of the Music of the Ainur, Ulmo was introduced as the Ainu
most identified with that element, and the Ainu most educated in the
matter of Music. Ulmo was the second Ainu to whom Ilúvatar specifically
spoke when he pointed out to Ulmo that Water has from Melkor's meddling
benefited beyond Ulmo's earlier conceptions. Melkor, then, attempted to
disrupt water with the use of fierce heat and severe cold, but could do
nothing to ruin Water as he must have hoped: this did no less than push
Manwë and Ulmo more closely together. Ulmo, first of all the Ainur,
Melkor spoke as such "'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 thy delight!'" And so Ulmo
and Manwë were revealed as the two chief servants of Ilúvatar's
intentions.
The Vision ended: Ilúvatar's preview was snatched away before any of
the Ainur could fully see or comprehend the whole work of their
music-made-into-substance. Because of this, and because of their nature
as beings that must grow to an understanding of themselves in the
context of the interplay of all creation, the Ainur knew quite a bit of
the past, present and future of the Universe and its inhabitants, yet
they don't know everything, the later days, especially, being hidden
from them. When the vision was taken away, the Ainur became restless,
having fallen in love with the Universe, the Earth and the Children.
Even Melkor thought that he wanted to be a benign part of their
manifestation, though his tendencies must have lead more toward
dominance than cultivation.
In the end of the Beginning, Ilúvatar took the entire musical work
of the Ainur, including Melkor's destructive efforts, and made it
manifest, existing as Eä, or what can be called the Universe. Many of
the most powerful and influential Ainur entered into Eä, but they
entered on condition that the life of the Universe, which has a
beginning, middle and end corresponding to the Great Music of the Ainu,
would be binding on them, and would become their lives as well. The
Valar, or'The Powers', the most powerful Ainur that entered into the
Universe entered into and became a part of the World at the very
beginning of Time, Melkor amongst them.
The remaining paragraphs of Ainulindalë summarize the first efforts
of the Valar to fulfil the destiny described in the vision of the
Universe they had foreseen in Heaven. The Valar entered into Eä only to
find it at the very beginning of its history - unformed and embryonic.
The history of the Universe had been only 'forsung'. The Valar, thus,
laboured to unfold that history and to build its constituent parts from
scratch. The four Valar who were most involved in the crafting of the
Earth were Manwë, Ulmo, Aulë and Melkor. Melkor laid claim to the Earth
as his own, and made the initial going very rough indeed. Manwë
collected those Valar and Maiar to himself who were friendly to him.
The Maiar were lesser Ainur who entered into Eä with the Valar of whom
we Istari belong to. Manwe then set up on Earth a resistance to Melkor.
At the moment of this act, a reminder is provided of the fact that
Manwë was the chief instrument of Ilúvatar in the Second Theme of the
Great Music. Melkor withdrew from Earth and Manwë's resistance, but
later formally, and quite impressively, reentered and made open war on
Manwë's throne. But Manwë's rule was established nonetheless, and
subsequently saw the Earth finished and made habitable and ready for
Elves and Men.
The Valar assumed physical forms as others wear clothes, though the
Valar do have temperaments commensurate with the genders these forms
reflect. For example, Melkor re-entered the Earth in a form of terrible
majesty, and the war for Earth began in earnest. The history of the
first battles are little recorded, but the reports point to Melkor
trying to undo everything the Valar did, which were things the Valar did
mostly to prepare the Earth for the Children. Melkor's actions could
change, but not destroy or wholly spoil, the original, as they were
understood, plans and intentions of the Valar. Despite Melkor, the Earth
is made ready.'
And that, my dear Hobbit friend, ends the Ainulindalë.
Bilbo smiled, ever so pleased at the tale. 'Another marvelous legend, Radagast. Another marvelous legend.'
Radagast nodded, happy to bring pleasure to his steward.
'How goes your chronicle, Bilbo. Now that you have spoken with
Arwen, the last voice you desired to learn from, is it in fact now
complete?'
Bilbo smiled, ever so pleased to be able to share the mountain of
his lifes work since the end of the third age. His first chronicle,
'There and back again,' which the Valar had kindly dubbed 'The Heroes
Tale', had proven lovingly adored by all whom he shared it with. And
elves amongst the Valar in Valinor had faithfully transribed the text
onto 150 of their sacred scrolls - to be kept for the 'Ages', so they
had said. Yet, he had since its completion, begun a new work - a second
greater and mightier work - of the times of the Fellowship of the One
Ring until their departing to the Grey Havens. A history of the War of
the One ring.
'It is now, in content, complete Radagast. Only editing and rearranging of the material into the final form need be done.'
'And do you have a title for this master's work,' Radagast inquired.
'It is to be a work in three parts - a trilogy, as it were. And the
saga is to be known as, if my elven friends again faithfully transribe
it, as 'The Lord of the Rings', with each volume bearing their own
title, as yet unformulated.
'The Lord of the Rings,' echoed Radagast. 'A grand title if I do
say so. And, dare I ask, just who was the 'Lord of the Rings', master
Bilbo.
'Who indeed,' Bilbo said quietly to himself.
They traveled along the road and Bilbo's thoughts turned to Arwen,
whom they had just 3 days earlier left behind them at Rivendell. He
thought on the death she had gone to, after Aragorn, then King
Elessar's, passing. She had gone to the grave of Lothlorien, having
given up immortal life. Yet, such a choice was, ultimately, not her own
to make. And while she had rested many years, her body had never
decayed and in time, her mourning in death for Elessar's own death had
been completed and her body returned to the immortal life of the Elven
kind. Yet still she had mourned. Still she had, from Rivendell to
which she returned, shown sorrow for her lost one. Sorrow of a heart
that could not mend. But, as there is a season and a time to all
things, her heart had, finally, healed. And that, in fact, seemingly
around the time of Bilbo and Radagast's arrival at Rivendell. They had
seen her in black the first day, other elves telling him she had dressed
always as such since her rebirth, yet utterings of surprise when the
next day she appeared in all the splendour she was once known for. It
would seem an old friendly face, Bilbo's own, had finally cheered her
up. And she had returned, once more, and finally so, to the land of the
living.
Bilbo spoke much to her and queried much of the history of the time
of the War of the Ring, her having shared much information. She spoke
to him, though, of other details, details that were relevant to his work
of chronicling the events of the war of the Ring. He had, from
Isengard, studied the manuscripts surviving from the Red book of
Westmarch, to which he had contributed much of the material before
leaving middle earth. Yet, later, he had again in his new youth
rewritten down the accounts afresh, with the best of the memories of the
fellowship also at his disposal. And then Arwen had mentioned that
amongst the Tooks in the Shire existed, likely, the most complete
stories of the war extant on middle earth. And so, although he felt his
work likely now complete and suitable for the attentive eyes of the
elven scribes of Valinor, he would finalise once and for all in Hobbiton
with the Took families, the legend of 'The Lord of the Rings.'
* * * * *
Gothmog, lord of the Balrogs, having been freed from the pit of
despair by his lord Melkor, stood at the base of Angband restored, the
fortress of his former captaincy under Melkor's authority. Melkor,
having arrived with the three Balrogs upon the back of the now flying
Glaurung, having been brought back to life from the pit of despair, had
departed him with Glaurung and the two other Balrogs for other affairs,
not shared with Gothmog. His duty was simple, though - the restoration
of Angband, which the Valar had destroyed. And as the months had
passed, he had worked tirelessly in the rebuilding of the keep, a
solitary worker beneath a barren sky. He had worked, sweated, and grown
many callouses. Yet he had not tired. He had not tired until that
very morning, when the final stones had been put in place, and the upper
level completed, now towering high above Thangorodrim, almost as a
tower touching the heavens. And now, for the moment, he would rest.
His duty now, until the return of Morgoth, was the gathering of
orc-kind to Angband. He would, to accomplish this task, travel to the
land of the east. It would be a long journey swimming the ancient ocean
of Beleager to middle earth, but his dread form was capable of it. And
from there he would travel to Mordor to seek beneath the mount of doom
and its region, those ancient dead orcs, who would be restored to
Morgoth's service. He felt Mordor the best of the places to seek the
beginnings of the dread army of darkness, although other choices
remained. Perhaps he would think of some other, yet for now Mordor, as
Melkor had given him no directive on the issue, would suffice to bring
the armies of dark to the life of the blood and death of their ancient
enemies before them. They would, inevitably, bow the knee to Gothmog,
and later Morgoth, and until his return would populate Angband and
restore it to its former glories.
Perhaps, now so more than ever, Gothmog feared Morgoth. The power,
now, within his dark lord was immense. As immense as the dark of night
surrounding Arda. For in that dark power, he had raised Thangorodrim
from the depths of Belegaer's watery graves. He had raised, a score of
leagues long and wide, the island of Thangorodrim, home to Angband. He
had stood on the back of Glaurung, above the ocean of Belegaer, and had
spoken ancient words. And from his body came forth darkness - a great,
enormous and powerful darkness - the shadow of doom itself, which, in
its evil omnipotence had sundered the waters surface, diving down, deep
down below, to grab hold of the very foundations of the world, to raise
forth, once more to the world above, the dread peaks of Thangorodrim.
Morgoth feared that hand, that shadow of the dark, having been so
near to its presence, sensing a spirit of hatred and despair within it,
ancient and devastating in its malevolent intent. He feared that hand
and swore to himself that no matter what task Morgoth set him, he would
faithfully undertake it, for otherwise the power he had felt - the power
of absolute evil - could one dark and fateful day claim him to its
malicious might.
And so, when rested, he would make final decisions of were to start
his work, and await the returned of his beloved, yet feared, dreaded
dark lord.
* * * * *
Morgoth stood in the heart of mount doom, upon the bridge
overlooking the firey pit of lava below. Having left Gothmog at Angband
to rebuild the fortress, and then Lungorthin and Grohlmor, the other
two Balrogs, at Utumno to see to its restoration also, Melkor had flown
on Glaurung to Mordor to Mt Doom. Like what he had gifted Glaurung with
in the pit of torment, Melkor could intimately sense the realm of
spirit and history - as if the two were fused as one in a pattern of the
great music - and in the heart of Mt Doom he knew that such was the
place were he would bring forth to new death in life, his former servant
Sauron. And, yet, also another. A minor figure - a figure of no
consequence - yet one who, perhaps, may one day come in useful.
The hand of doom reached down from Melkor, into the lava. It
reached down and sought out spiritual particles, gathering them
together, uniting them in a form - a form born of fire. And it
undertook, also, the work on the minor form, far easier to complete.
And, finally, a solitary small object.
The darkness knit blood and bone together - flesh and spirit - and
then, work completed, it raised the two forms and the object up from the
firey pit, to stand them before him. He took the object into his hand,
and then, he touched one, and then the other of the figures, on the
mouth, and spoke a single ancient word.
And then life came to be within the two figures.
The larger figure, Sauron, opened his eyes, and stared at Melkor.
He stared with a hatred having, it seemed, grown even more malevolent.
And Sauron spoke, saying one brutal word, 'Vengeance.'
'Come,' said Melkor. 'We have much to do.' Sauron began following
as he strode along the bridge outwards. Yet, he turned to see the
other, small, miserable figure. And, looking at the object in his hand,
a ring with elvish markings made visible from the heat, he tossed it to
the small pathetic figure. 'Here, cretin. Take this,' spoke the dark
lord. The figure took the ring and, with a glee as if rising from the
dead, held it to the air and said two soulless words - 'My precious.'
* * * * *
The music sparkled throughout Bag End, melodious trill after
melodious trill and suddenly, without warning, Jando's young cousin,
Merridae, began singing with the voice of a Valar under inspiration, and
Bag End came alive with Song. Jando played on the keyboard
passionately as her cousin sang with all her heart and soul and the
joyful melody played along in the hearts of nearby neighbours, used to
such musical delight from the Baggins of Bag End.
Eventually, though, the song came to an end and Jando spoke
joyously, 'Oh well done, Merridae. So beautiful your voice has become.'
'Why thank you, dear cousin. But how could I ever sing such joy without your masterly accompaniment.'
'You are so sweet. Well, time is getting on, Merridae. Methinks
the day has gotten the better of us and here we are, still not dressed
for this evening's revelries.'
'Oh, we have time enough,' responded Merridae. 'There is still much sand in the hourglass by my reckoning.'
'Yet have you given no thought to Master Took's desires to dance
with thee this evening?' queried Jando to her young cousin. 'I would
have thought you would have liked to be early to wait upon his desires,
for I know he likes thee.'
'Like all gentlemanly hobbits, he can wait upon his lady. If his
intentions are honourable and good he will gain the pleasure of my
company soon enough.'
'Ooo. The fair company of Maid Merridae. I am sure he is beside
himself with anticipation,' responded Jando, the tone of her loving
sarcasm quite obvious to Merridae.
'Well he had better be,' responded Merridae quite dramatically, but
with a subtle smile on her face, leading to both of them bursting out in
laughter.
'Well, enough with song. We had better get ourselves ready, for
tonight we celebrate old one-eye Tooks birthday. Eleventy Seven, a
grand old age if there ever was one,' said Jando, to which the two of
them made to their rooms.
Jando was in her room in bag end, in her undergarments, holding her
nights dress to her front, looking in the mirror when suddenly, without
warning, a face appeared in her window - a rather ancient looking
hobbit. She screamed, 'Peeping tom, peeping tom,' and slammed the
window in his face, closing the blinds. Merridae came running in to see
what all the fuss was about, Jando explaining they had an unwelcome
visitor. Just then the front door of Bag End resounded with a solid
sharp series of knocks and Jando put on a cloak and Merridae
accompanying her, went to see what all the fuss was about.
She opened the door and, standing in front of her, the peeping tom
of a hobbit and an old looking human. The hobbit smiled warmly at her,
came forward and gave her a hug, and bustled his way into Bag End,
coming into the main living room. Jando just looked on, completely and
utterly amazed, a look of bewilderment upon her face. She followed the
hobbit into the living room, and the elderly human with the pointed hat
came in following them.
'Home. Bag End. Home at last. Thank the maker.' Bilbo spoke
those words, looking adoringly and affectionately at his home, and
turned to look at Jando. 'And are you a Baggins?' he asked her.
Jando looked at him, and suddenly became furious at the intrusion.
Just who was this stranger to come bustling and charging in as if he
owned the place.
'Yes, of course I am a Baggins. Bag end has long been in Baggins hands.'
'Oh, that is good news.'
Radagast spoke up. 'I think, Bilbo, a little introduction might put the ladies worries to rest.'
'Oh, yes of course. I was forgetting myself.' He turned to Jando.
'I, dear lady Baggins, am Bilbo Baggins. I once resided here many long
years ago.'
Jando looked at him, instantly puzzled and turned her head, looking
at Merridae. She returned her gaze to Bilbo. 'The only Bilbo Baggins
who ever lived here, a great uncle of mine, left for the grey havens to
live with the elves centuries ago. And unless you are claiming to be
him, then I know of no other Bilbo Baggins who has resided here.'
'One in the same,' responded Bilbo. 'Oh my. Is that my grandfather
clock,' he said, walking over to the clock against the wall. Jando
looked at him, quietly puzzled over his claim to be her great uncle
Bilbo. Perhaps the old hobbit was just turning senile, but he looked
harmless enough.
'Look, Bilbo. If that is your name. I am the housemaster of Bag
End now. It was left to me in the will of my parents who are
unfortunately gone from us, so if you are trying to claim ownership,
well you would need to be quite persuasive.'
'Oh, I am not trying to cheat you out of your inheritance, dear neice. I have come for a visit. To touch bases with home.'
Merridae spoke up, amused somewhat by this bustling character. 'If
you really are Bilbo Baggins, you should know this. What is the
inscription on the inner lid of the stove. The inscription of the
maker. The stove has been in the family for generations, so you should
know that.'
Jando turned from looking at Merridae to Bilbo. 'Yes, dear uncle. What is the inscription.'
Bilbo smiled. 'Why BB, for Balbo Baggins. Who else.'
Jando turned to look at Merridae, who raised her eyebrows in amusement. 'Well he got that right,' said Jando to Merridae.
'Of course I am Bilbo Baggins,' responded Bilbo. I have been with
the elves for many a long year, drinking from the elixir of life. And
time has come for me to see home at last. To see what has become of
Hobbiton and the Shire.'
'Yes, I know of the ancient stories. I have read them myself,' responded Jando.
'Which is the reason for my visit,' responded Bilbo, opening his
sack and bringing out his manuscript for 'The Lord of the Ring's'. I
have come to complete my work. To finalise once and for all the saga of
the 'Lord of the Rings.' He handed the text to Jando, saying, come.
Take a look. You will soon see the truthfulness of my claim. Jando
looked at the old hobbit and, silently wondering to herself if he was
indeed her ancient uncle, took the leather-bound manuscript and opened
it up.
'Do you speak the elven tongue,' Bilbo asked Jando.
'A little,' she replied.
'Then read on.'
Jando again looked at Bilbo, a soft look of affection towards this old hobbit, and sat down. Merridae spoke up.
'Well, dear Bilbo. And you,' she said turning to Radagast. 'Would you like some tea?'
Radagast nodded, taking a seat. 'That would be wonderful dear hobbit. And what may I ask are your names?'
'I am Merridae. And this is my cousin Jando. We live here in Bag End. Baggins, the both of us.'
Radagast nodded, smiling happily at his new acquaintances. 'I am
Radagast. Radagast the Brown. It is a pleasure to meet you miss
Merridae.'
'The pleasure is all mine,' responded Merridae. 'Well I will get that tea,' she said and made her way to the kitchen.
Jando was seated next to Bilbo, who was warming himself at the fire,
turning page after page in the fascinating text. Eventually she spoke.
'Yes, these are the old legends, Bilbo. I read them in my youth.'
'Your youth,' queried Bilbo, noting she seemed not older than 30.
'Well, in my teens.'
She looked at him and the Radagast fellow. 'Well, if you really are
Bilbo Baggins, welcome home. I am sure many in the Shire will want to
meet and talk with you.'
'That is the idea,' responded Bilbo. 'You know, there are others
who still live. My dear young nephew Frodo, the hero of this chronicle.
He himself has also partaken of the elixir, amongst others.'
Jando nodded, turning again to the text. 'It is a most unexpected homecoming, dear Bilbo.'
'But a long awaited one, Jando,' said Bilbo, placing his hand affectionately on her knee. 'A long awaited one.'
The four of them talked much longer, into the deep of the evening,
the Baggins ladies foregoing that nights celebrations. And as Jando
drifted to sleep that night, her guests staying in the guest quarters,
she wondered to herself just what the next few days would hold for
herself and young Merridae.
* * * * *
'The reason,' began Elrond, after much thought as to the words he
should speak with his friend Gandalf. 'The reason the Valar have
removed themselves to the realm of the sky, is that they await the final
confrontations and wish to leave the transpiring of the events on
middle earth in the hands of its earthborn inhabitants until the time is
necessary for their intervention. I am afraid, Gandalf, that Morgoth
and his legions will be our responsibility to combat and defeat in the
meantime.'
'And this is Mandos' decision on behalf of the Valar, is it? To
remain impartial and let the sufferings of elves, dwarves and men no
longer concern them?'
'You should know well dear Gandalf that the ways of the Valar are
often difficult to discern at the best of times. They are often very
'other' to us Elves, strange and reclusive in their behaviour. Almost
as if they are aware of things to do with the mystical in life, things
divine and of Eru's unknowable ways. Things beyond the revelations we
elves have yet encountered.'
Gandalf sat down on a marble chair inside an upper room of one of
the higher towers of the Palace of Manwe, contemplating Elrond's words.
Elrond had just returned from Valinor, accompanied by a small group of
elder Elves. War was coming, as Elrond knew it, and forces were
marshalling. For Elrond of elvenkind the assistance of Gandalf the
White was of dire necessity to face the oncoming darkness and, gazing at
his old and dear friend, he too felt the worries and concerns shown on
that ancient wrinkled brow.
'Then we shall do what we shall do,' stated Gandalf resolutely.
'Middle earth has beforetimes struggled without the help of the Valar,
and come through in triumph. We will succeed again.'
'About Bilbo,' began Elrond. 'Please, don't be too hard on our
hobbit friend. He is dear to us elves and learning the ways of your
arts can not be too great an imposition can it?'
'The magical arts are not for the likes of Bilbo Baggins,' said
Gandalf gruffly. 'Radagast has always had a rebellious streak. Why he
is third in the order. I will sort that out.'
'Dare I say it, master Gandalf, that Bilbo might become the
unlikeliest of heroes just when we need it most. Things like that have
an uncanny sense of happening in middle earth.'
Gandalf looked at Elrond with firm eyes, but softened. 'Yes, yes
they do. But woe is me if it comes down to the magical abilities of
Bilbo Baggins.'
Elrond smiled. That would be quite ironic, indeed.
'So when is the leave-taking, and who travels?'
'The fellowship, as it once was. We are to Hobbiton, were I feel we
will find Radagast and Bilbo. And then to Rohan and Eriador and
Gondor. The kingdoms of men must be prepared now, sooner than later.
And then to the dwarves, who Gimli will speak to on our behalf. This
dread war, a war I fear will end our age, will call on all of us yet
again. Yet, I sense something. A calmer time coming beyond the
darkness. A new age yet again, yet a calmer age. An age of grace.'
'Let us hope that such it will be, Gandalf. Let us hope.'
Gandalf gathered up his hat and staff, and came over to Elrond,
putting his hands on his shoulders. 'We will be back before we have
even gone, Elrond. And I know you will be ready. And should the Valar
by that time have roused themselves, well destiny can only be good to
us. Good day to thee.'
'Fare well Gandalf. Till we see once more.'
The wizard tipped his hat and left off to rejoin the fellowship.
And Elrond, taking a seat by the window, gazed out into the forest,
thinking of dark things, dark lords, and dark choices which yet lay
ahead. Very dark choices.
* * * * *
Merridae awoke to the morning sun streaming gentle rays through her
window, enshrouding her with glory. She laid there, looking at the
light, thinking over her new visitors, wondering wether or not they
really, in truth, were what they claimed. Indeed, it seemed quite
strange to really believe it was her lost ancient uncle. But she too
knew the legends and such things with the elves were always possible she
guessed to herself. It would be wonderful, she thought to herself, to
have been living all that time, lost in the world of the elves, singing
beautifully, living so gracefully, walking in harmony with nature and
all that is. It would be so wonderful. She thought on her passed
mother who had taught her all of the elves and their magical ways and
remembered back to those tales of youth of splendid Rivendell and
otherland cities and places belonging to the elder people. It would
really be so wonderful.
She looked at the old clock against the wall. Time to rise, to prepare the morning meal, and feed her guests.
Coming into the main room she found Bilbo curled up in front of the
fireplace, his writings clutched to his chest, snoring peacefully.
Looking at the old hobbit she felt she did indeed notice a resemblance.
If he was Bilbo Baggins then she really must make him welcome. And if
he wanted to reside here in Bag End, something he had so far denied,
but if he really did then perhaps she should make way for her old uncle.
She let him be and went to the kitchen to stoke the fire. Perhaps
much fried bacon and eggs and some Lamas bread for breakfast. And some
fresh apple juice. That should be a perfect breakfast.
Half an hour later, a pile of bacon in cut strips on the table, some
buttered lamas bread, 2 large pitchers of fresh apple juice and a dozen
fried eggs, Radagast came into the room, still yawning and wiping his
eyes.
'Good morning to you fair maiden. It appears as if we have a splendid breakfast before us. You are so gracious.'
'You can go raise Bilbo if you like. I am sure he is famished after your long journey.'
Radagast stood staring at the food, his mouth watering, and then
nodded, 'Oh, of course, and left to get Bilbo. No sooner had Radagast
left than Jando entered, smiling at her cousin. 'Uncle Bilbo is yawning
madly, Meri.'
'No surprise at his great age,' responded Merridae. No sooner had
she spoken then Bilbo came into the room, Radagast following. Bilbo
came to the table, looked at the bacon and said, 'Yum, bacon,' pinching a
piece. Merridae made as to swipe at him, but he pinched it before she
could refuse him. 'Shall we sit?' asked Merridae. In response the four
of them took seats at the table and began their morning breakfast.
Taking a drink of juice, Merridae looked at Bilbo. 'So, uncle, what
exactly have you been doing all these long years? You must have quite a
tale to tell.'
Bilbo finished off a mouthful and began, 'Why, busily about the
affairs of an elderly hobbit. What else?' he said, with a tone of
humour she was beginning to get used to. 'What is it like? In Valinor,
I mean,' asked Jando.
'Much like Rivendell. Have you been?' asked Bilbo.
'Not yet,' said Jando. 'But I would like to.'
'Then we must take you,' said Bilbo. 'We must certainly do that young neice.'
Radagast spoke up. 'Your uncle has been learning the arts of magic,
under my tutelage. He persisted in such an endeavour in asking it of
me, so I finally succumbed. He has talent, if not great wisdom.'
'Very funny,' said Bilbo, and Radagast smiled at him.
'So you're a wizard, uncle Bilbo.'
'Perhaps. One day, perhaps. Suffice to say I am learning and we will leave it at that.'
'Very good,' said Jando.
'So, are there still Tooks in Hobbiton?'
Jando looked at Merridae. 'He asks of the Tooks. Fancy that.'
Merridae would not bite. 'Yes, there are still Tooks in Hobbiton, uncle,' responded Merridae.'
'Then we must visit them shortly. For such is a large reason for my
visit. Oh, for yourself of course. And the rest of the Bagginses.'
Jando began slowly. 'Unfortunately there are not a great deal of us
Bagginses left. Oh, the Shire has a certain number, but we have
dwindled. I know not why, but it as if some power has caused us to
leave of in our children in a significant way. It is quite a concern to
the family at the moment.'
Bilbo looked concerned. 'Well, young neice. You must soon marry
and rectify such a situation. We Bagginses must continue, it is a high
priority.'
'Marry another Baggins? A little unusual.'
'Not without precedent, dear neice. The family name is important.
We have a strong reputation in the Shire, and it would be best for it
to continue.'
'I will take that into account,' responded Jando. 'And I am sure
Merridae will do her best to bring forth the children you desire.'
Merridae looked embarrassed, but nodded.
After they had finished their meal Jando asked if they would like to hear some music, and Bilbo smiled at them.
That morning the music came forth merrily from Bag End, and Hobbiton
sensed something different was in the air. As if an old face had
returned, and was about to announce its presence. A long unexpected
presence.
Chapter Three
'Uncle Bilbo's Machinations'
Gollum was a hobbit, of sorts. An ancient hobbit of preternaturally
long life. Reborn, anew, from the fires of destruction, from the fires
of Mt Doom, his coveted prize of glory was once more in his
possession. Poor old Gollum. Hobbitdom's rejected child, cast asunder
from his world for the murder of dear old Deagol. He didn't reject
hobbits because of that. Despite the hate which had been there for so
long, cast aside, into the nether regions of the world, a lost and
lonely, tortured soul, the bane of dwarves and men, the ridicule of his
own kind. No, he didn't hate them. But how could he really ever love
them again. For all his struggles, how could he ever forgive them.
But, sleeping in the heart of Orthanc rebuilt, down in the underworld
basements, were Goblins gave him food, and looked to his needs, and the
dark one, Sauron, visiting him once each evening to speak of horrible
things, things once more of doom to plague middle earth's desired
salvation, Gollum, a wretched creature, looked into his heart, and
looked daily at the one ring which he cradled in his palms, and a soft
voice, a gentle voice, the voice of the father of time spoke to him. In
the evenings, when an elf, chained in the cell opposite him, sang
laments, heartaches of a free spirit longing for his beloved, Gollum, a
creature devoid of compassion, a creature devoid of joy, a creature
devoid of love, for all things but his blessed 'Precious', took pity.
He listened to the elven song, and thought. Long and hard he thought,
and as the dark lord of evil spoke his diabolical will upon the children
of middle earth, speaking of his plans, speaking of his glory, Gollum
looked deep into the heart of the one ring and now, finally, his
precious eternally his, the heart of Eru Illuvatar, the Father of time,
changed Gollum's heart. And he took pity, and he resonated with the
laments of the elf, and he saw anew just what fate, just what destiny,
just what glory should behold the heart of a murderer like him. And the
One Ring sang in his palms, and glowed brightly, and Gollum was anew.
* * * * *
Merridae had not known a hobbit, in the intimate way. A virgin
child, sure and true, she'd dared not even kiss a child of the Shire,
for her raising had been strict. Uncle Bilbo, though, seemed a
character of extraordinary eccentricities in many ways, from his
ramblings of his adventures, he penchant for magic, and his gentle wit
and calm demeanour, yet, one thing became also quite apparent in this
relic of the shire. He was a family man, of no great uncertainty to
herself now, for the quiet hints of heirs and lineage had been made
clear to Merridae and the finding of a man for the family name, at this
present moment, something of a priority. She looked into the mirror
that morning, gazing at the somewhat attractive face, the somewhat
attractive figure, the somewhat congenial personality she knew in truth
to possess and wondered to herself why it had to take the persuasions of
a long forgotten hobbit uncle to finally get her motivated.
Jando came in momentarily, yawning, her hair a mess, and gawked at
her. 'You are up early, dear cousin. Why such, may I ask, a concerned
look?'
'Jando. Are we, you know. Getting too old? Are we becoming, dare I fearfully say, old maids?'
'Hardly,' she said, and went to the sink. She seemed, though, to be
thinking on that idea. 'I suppose I know what you are saying. Here we
are, pretty hobbits, but past 30 and still no mates. It has been a
concern, since my coming of age, naturally. But things some times take
time, Merri. Life works in mysterious ways. Like uncle Bilbo suddenly
appearing. I don't know how to say it, but it is like a new lease of
life has come over Bag End. Like an unexpected presence has finally
returned.'
Merridae looked at her cousin, and turned to look into the mirror.
'I have noticed that. Like Bag End has an old friend restored to her.
Like she is happy once more.'
'At peace, perhaps,' responded Jando.
'Perhaps,' finished Merridae.
The two of them went about their lady business, and when Bilbo
greeted them that morning, ready for a proper introduction to the
community of Hobbiton that evening after some surprising introductions
at the Tooks the prior night, all seemed suddenly well in the world.
All seemed suddenly good. And once more devouring bacon, Bilbo smiled
at them, and winked, and the two Baggins cousins eyed each other, for
something was quite apparently on the old foxes mind.
* * * * *
Gothmog stood on the top of Isengard restored, and looked down at
the mad and wild orc slavery going on below. The dead - resurrected -
brought to life, fowl and decrepit life, once more. He felt it, even
now, the dark power in his body, raising them through Morgoth's strength
endowed into himself and his own dark evil.
He raised his hands again and again, urging them on, and they
cheered vile cheers up at their new dark lord as they went about their
task.
'Wormtonuge,' spoke Grima. 'You dead carcass still reaks, albeit
quite pleasantly. I take it you perfume your foul wretchedness.'
'Only to please my lords,' said Grima, watching the activity. 'Shall the Lord Melkor be arriving soon?'
'He is in Mordor,' said the dark Lord. 'Gathering the forces. We
battle in Eriador, on the shores, where we shall marshall 3 months
hence. We have commited an act of honour and sent note to the powers of
middle earth who are indeed now aware of our presence. They shall fall
into slavery beneath us should we prove victorious in Eriador by their
own oath, or we shall wreak havoc upon havoc upon their innocents.'
'They would agree to such a covenant?' inquired Wormtonuge.
'Elves are weak. Men more so. They will not risk their loved ones to the fate we should rightly bestow.'
'Then your wisdom is supreme,' said Wormtongue.
'Melkor's wisdom is supreme,' commented Gothmog and raised his arms once more.
'Yes. Melkor is supreme,' said Wormtongue, gazing down upon the madness.
'And Middle earth shall feel our wrath,' finished Gothmog, as the
bowels of Isengard turned again, unleashing even more of the pitisome
and loathsome creatures.
* * * * *
'Here we are,' said Samwise. 'The Grey Havens.'
'Has it been so long,' said Frodo, looking over the once familiar landscape. 'And the shire, just a little further.'
A misty look came over Samwise Gamgee's eyes. 'How to see her one last time.'
'One last time?' queried Frodo. 'The elixir has not failed us yet.'
'Nor shall it,' stated Legolas. 'It is of the Valar. It will work eternal its beneficience.'
'I am not sure it is the Elixir which worries me,' said Sam. 'I fear darker things may claim our fellowship in this final hour.'
Frodo put his hand on Samwise's shoulder. 'Good friend. Loyal Sam.
We have been through dark things before. Fret not. I fear even Eru
Illuvatar would not wish more evil upon us.'
Samwise looked at his friend. 'If you believe in such a being.'
'I do,' said Frodo. 'We are from somewhere, ultimately. Not from chaos. Not from nothing.'
'Eru Illuvatar crafted all Samwise Gamgee,' said Legolas. 'It is from where we elves were born, and we have deep memories.'
Yet Samwise said nought.
Saruman spoke up. 'Is it to the shire, then, that we travel? Perhaps we should be seeing ourselves to Gondor in a time as this.'
'And why would you suggest that?' asked Samwise accusingly.
'Master Samwise. The Saruman you see now is not what he was. Even
one who has known the presence of Eru Illuvatar and turned his back can,
ultimately, redeem himself. I am not who I was.'
Samwise softened. He had seen something of that Saruman in the past
few weeks. A different wizard. An older wizard, in many ways. Not so
forlorn in hope of good things, for which Samwise trusted his heart to
act upon and swear by.
'We shall go to the shire,' said Gimli. 'To reclaim the affections
of Bilbo. And then to Rivendell as we planned. For they will have the
knowledge we need for this impending encounter we are surely headed for.
'They are gathering,' said Samwise to Saruman. 'In Isengard. The elders here made that apparent.'
'I dwell there only in memory,' said Saruman.
'Yet it is your home,' said Samwise.
'And it shall be once more. But not for the purposes of Melkor.'
The group went silent and looked at Saruman. That seemed enough said of that particular name.
'How are the forces of middle earth?' Frodo asked Saruman. 'Is their strength still in them.'
'They are not what they were. But neither is our enemy. This final
battle is the testing. The final testing, I perchance suspect.'
But Legolas looked grimly forward, for he knew that not true.
'To the shire,' said Frodo.
'To the shire,' responded the Fellowship.
* * * * *
'Yet Aradorn was infertile,' continued Gandalf. 'It is not known to
the common man, and rarely a courtisan of Gondor is privileged to such
news, yet he was in truth unable to bear.'
'Yet Galdra was raised,' said Bilbo. 'Who fathered him?' queried the
hobbit in the front room of Bag End, smoke rife in the air, Radagast
enjoying his roast chicken, Jando and Merridae happily knitting by the
fireplace, listening intently.
'Galdra is a consequence of history, in the most unlikely of ways, rectifying itself, would seem to me,' replied Gandalf.
'You could say that,' said Radagast,' and burped.
'The love of Eowyn to Aragorn was well known. Yet Arwen claimed his heart. Yet not completely his soul.'
Bilbo's ears were attentive as Gandalf continued his story.
'She sired Aragorn a child, who was taken into my own steadfast
protection, and who strode the northlands many years, alike his father,
yet never knowing him.'
'Eowyn and Aragorn had a child? By the maker,' said Bilbo in amazement.
'And later on, I spake with Aradorn and told him of Galdra, who was
descended through Eowyn from Aragorn, and they chose in secrecy the
redemption of the house of Gondor through Eowyn.'
'Then King Araborn is of Eowyn!' stated Bilbo in certain terms.
'Indeed the child is,' responded Gandalf. And he looked at Bilbo.
'And more besides, Bilbo Baggins. But you will see that in time to come I
am sure.'
Bilbo looked quizzically at Gandalf, but did not query further.
'They will be here soon, won't they,' said Radagast.
'Again,' who will be here soon,' interjected Jando. 'You keep
speaking of these special guests yet you name them not. What, are we to
be apprehended with yet more famed Baggins of days past?'
And Bilbo looked at Gandalf, who smiled, and bowed softly to Jando. 'In the fullness of time, Jando Baggins.'
'Do you have any more raisin cakes?' asked Bilbo. 'I've eaten the lot.'
'You eat well for an ancient,' said Merridae, eyeing her indeed ancient uncle. 'Are you sure you really are as old as you say?'
'I would profer,' said Gandalf. 'It is Bilbo's admiration of fine Baggins cuisine which inspires him to his acts of digestion.'
'Better than any Tooks,' said Bilbo, from the corner of his mouth, and Radagast chuckled at the comment.
'Tea would also be pleasing,' said Gandalf politely,' and Jando and Merridae rose and hastened to the kitchen.
'Lovely, aren't they,' said Bilbo proudly. 'No finer and prettier Baggins I've ever laid eyes on.'
'Their looks speak nothing of their manners,' responded Gandalf. 'I am duly impressed Bilbo.'
'So you should be,' responded the old hobbit.
Gandalf puffed on his pipe and Bilbo sipped on his tea and Radagast
had laid back in his armchair, happily digesting the chicken. Bilbo,
though, was smirking to himself softly, something the wizard had noted
this last day and a half.
'Bilbo Baggins. Sometimes I feel I know you better than I know
myself. What is that mischevious look in your eye. You are planning
something, I sense. Something you are not sharing with us.'
'The machinations of Bilbo Baggins,' stated Bilbo,' are not always
known to the wisdom of Master Gandalf. Indeed he may be of the Maiar and
gifted with powers and abilities I have yet to even dream of, but you
can't read my mind yet you old duffer.'
'Bilbo Baggins,' reacted Gandalf.
'Oh, sorry,' said Bilbo, and produced a raisin cake magically from his sleeve and continued munching away.
'Do you know, Radagast, of this hobbits, of what I can be sure to be
afraid of, most intemperate fantasies. He has been giggling like a
youth all morning.'
'Oh, I wouldn't worry about Bilbo,' said Radagast. 'Let the old fool have his fun. He's not getting any younger you know.'
'Nor are any of us,' said Gandalf in a serious tone, eyeing the happy Bilbo.
'Oh, I shall not have you interfere Gandalf,' said Bilbo. 'Off on
adventures straight away, with no time for real life and important
things.'
'What important things?' demanded Gandalf.
'Baggins things!' exclaimed Bilbo, and munched again on his raisin cake in defiance, and again started giggling.
'Mmm,' said Gandalf, puffing on his pipe, his eyes fixed firmly on the most animated old halfling.
* * * * *
Bilbo was at the front window of Bag End all the following morning,
looking out from time to time, waiting on his friends. Gandalf was
firmly entrenched in an armchair, reading through various tomes he had
brought with him, while Radagast was still in bed, snoozing happily, the
two female hobbits sitting in the kitchen, slowly tending the cooking
of lunch. Jando and Merridae were not workers in Hobbiton, by any
occupation, and as inheritors of Bag End they'd been fortunately left
with a sizeable income apart from the property itself. Yet both taught
music to many of the Hobbits of the Shire, from which an adequate income
was gained, and they were considered perhaps the Shire's finest
pianists, known for the concerts held from time to time in Hobbiton Town
Hall.
And then, just before noon, he spied them. Coming along up the road, headed direct for Bag End. The fellowship.
'Merridae, Jando!' yelled Bilbo immediately. 'Come here you two.'
The fair ladies soon presented themselves, concerned for the sudden
outburst of their uncle. Gandalf looked on with amusement.
'Now, straight down to the mill, and return hastily with some flour.'
'We have ample,' said Jando puzzled.
Bilbo took out some coinage, pressed it into the ladies hands, and repeated himself. 'Go - now. That is your uncles order.'
'As you wish,' said Merridae and the girls,' puzzled, took their coats, and exited Bag End.
Bilbo made it straight for the door.
Just the moment earlier Frodo and Samwise headed the fellowship and they came up to the front of Bag End.
'It's hardly changed,' said Frodo.
'Hobbiton has hardly changed,' said Samwise.
'Then we are most fortunate,' responded Frodo, and put his hand affectionately on Samwise's shoulder.
Just then the two lady hobbits came out of Bag End, looked briefly
at their guests, but seeing Bilbo shooing them on, curtsied and
continued on their way.
Yet Frodo had noticed Jando immediately. Very much noticed her.
And Samwise had not been shy in his observation of the person of Merridae Baggins.
'Who where they?' asked Samwise.
'Guests, I guess,' responded Frodo, but his eyes wandered after them.
They turned, and noticed Bilbo in the window, gawking at the two of them.
'Its Bilbo,' said Frodo, full of joy.
'Come, let us find rest, for we are home,' said Frodo to the
fellowship trailing and, Bilbo at the door suddenly, opening it wide, he
hugged Frodo and nodded to Legolas and the remainder, and the
fellowship, once more, found itself in Bag End, a suspicious looking
Grey Wizard very carefully eyeing of a guilty looking Bilbo Baggins.
* * * * *
'The Father of Time,' began Gandalf slowly, to his audience in Bag
End, the gathered fellowship and Jando and Merridae, 'is the father of
all that came before and all that comes afterwards. But, most of all, he
is the father of all that happens right here and now. In this time we
have, in this short time, so fleeting, in which we live our lives and
make our proud boasts of adventure and daring, we strive to live a life,
for most honest citizens of Middle Earth, in a way of merit. In a way
of goodness and kindness, which it would seem is so inherent in the way
we live. The gentle kiss of a mother to her child, the hand of a father
on his son, the kiss of wife to husband. All of this is love and all of
it is expressed in our living and our being alive, here in time. Here
and now. Every decision we make is here and now. Yet the father of time
watches over all our past choices and he remembers them all, and in the
future ahead he is there, in his caring, in his benevolence, shaping it
for us, surely and only for our good. There are those, those who
challenged the might of Eru, who did not understand him, in rightness.
In his glory, as one might say. The creator of things, the creator of
life, surely we wizards say, knew all things in most ways. All
knowledge. All understanding. And in the life he gave us he gave us
goodness and kindness to guide us. But not without challenge. For in the
making of our lives, and in treading down this time before us, he has
challenged us, like in the past, for reasons of his wisdom.'
'And what is that wisdom?' asked Samwise. 'Play things for his entertainment?'
'Who can rightly say,' interjected Radagast. 'Perhaps even for our
own. Perhaps all this evil before us is only there to strengthen us in
the end. To teach us those good things. Those right things against those
wrong things.'
'As Radagast must rightly say. It is the making of us, Samwise.
Bilbo's book. Those adventures. Those tales of bravery and foolishness,
of wisdom and honour. In such books we find meaning yet, while life has
its beautiful pleasantness, perhaps....'
'Go on,' said Frodo.
'Perhaps without adversary there is no testing of us. No challenge
to our life to make us what we may need to be. To make us what we have
to be,' finished Gandalf.
'I don't think I need to destroy a ring for it to be the making of me,' said Samwise.
'But perhaps I did,' said Frodo softly.
'Melkor serves his own evil,' said Gandalf. 'But even in that evil,
goodness contrasts and is shown so much more clearly and beautifully for
the virtue it truly is. And the Father of Time, who goes before each
and everyone of us, surely does not put us to a testing beyond our
abilities to cope with. It is for goodness that evil comes forth, as
wrong and as utterly ridiculous as that might sound.'
'What's life without a little bit of adventure,' said Bilbo comically, and the fellowship laughed in response.
'Whatever trials may come,' continued Gandalf,'we can know this. Eru
already knows, and this destiny, this fate, we follow to the end,
written in legends and prophecies in days gone from us, is for our
ultimate good. And because of that we can be confident we will prevail.'
'If he even exists at all,' said Samwise, and stood and left the room.
Merridae looked after Samwise as he left and Gandalf nodded to her that she should go after him.
'I do believe in God,' said Frodo.
'Aye. I think, in the end,' said Gimli. 'Only God could have made
female dwarves. For no accident of nature could be responsible for such
abominations.' And the group burst out laughing on Gimli's joke.
'Eru watches over us and guides us and we may intercede to him for
assistance,' said Legolas. 'Yet we choose our words carefully, for he is
a great being, and worthy of our respect.'
'And our love,' said Jando suddenly, and the eyes of the fellowship fell upon her.
'In a time like this, in this greatest of challenges, we may indeed
need to call on the benevolence of Eru Illuvatar dear Legolas, for I
fear this evil will be greater than that gone before. Perhaps never the
like to be seen again,' said Gandalf.
'Then we shall pray,' said Frodo solemnly, and the fellowship fell quietly upon his words.
In the kitchen Merridae had seated herself next to Samwise who was
sipping on an ale he had poured himself, sitting their quietly, waiting
upon him.
'Do you not believe?' she asked him softly.
'It's not that,' said Samwise. 'It's wether I trust. That he even
cares. That being, that spirit. Probably there, I guess. But it is above
these things. These mundane matters. They don't bother him. We are like
little bugs, which entertain him. Nothing more.'
'But surely God loves us,' responded Merridae.
And Samwise turned and looked into the eyes of the fair maiden Baggins, and nodded softly despite himself.
'I guess so. If you say so Merridae. If you say so.'
And she put her hand on his shoulder, and she pursed her lips and said, 'Be brave master Gamgee. Be brave.'
And he touched her hand lightly, and nodded softly in reply.