Author's Note: I've drawn illustrations for this story! To see the ones I have so far, click on the Homepage link on my author bio, then go to the Fanart section, scroll down to "Illustrations by Fanfic Title" and click on "The Last Note."
Chapter 1: The First Music
A single note sounded in the silence.
All the Ainur listened in awe, even the one who had sung it: Manwë.
Even Eru Ilúvatar seemed pleased. He nodded gently in encouragement, smiling at Manwë and then, encompassingly, at all of them. Then Eru the Father of All lifted his hands, and all of the Ainur began to sing.
Melkor started in wonder at the sound of his own voice. It was beautiful, rich and full and strong; certainly much better than Manwë's note or any of the other Ainur's voices.
Eagerly Melkor sang on, feeling the strength his notes lent to the harmony of his brothers and sisters. Soon, though, he began to feel dissatisfied. Lending strength was all he was doing, joining in with a song already being sung. He wanted to create his own music. Surely his voice was beautiful enough - surely he himself was wonderful enough - to deserve that glory.
Experimentally Melkor tried a new theme. It wasn't very different from the original music, but it made several of the voices around him falter.
That dismayed Melkor, at first. He had wanted to create beauty, not dissonance. But then he had a sudden idea. Perhaps dissonance itself could be his domain, defined as his by its very difference from Ilúvatar's original theme.
And if I could make the other voices falter... Melkor smiled cruelly. It was the first time his face - or any of the Ainur's faces - had ever held such an expression. Maybe I can bend them to my will.
Melkor deliberately changed his song again, not to an independent beautiful theme this time, but to a violent clanging as of breaking bells. Come! his notes seemed to say. Sing with me, and we will overthrow the might of Ilúvatar!
It was a bold challenge, almost unimaginably so even to Melkor. A ripple of shock spread through the entire music as Melkor's thought of rebellion struck the minds of the other Ainur. Several of them sang notes and chords of protest, while others foundered uncertainly in their music, unable to ignore his forceful command yet also unwilling to join in.
Come! Melkor sang again. He used no words, but his thoughts were clearly audible to the others in the sound of the music itself.
A few voices sang in answer to Melkor, leaping and crackling like a growing flame. Yes, we will join you! they sang. We will follow you into glory and domination!
Yes! Melkor agreed in jubilation. Let all those join us who will! He stared proudly into the eyes of one after another of his fellow Ainur as he sang. As for the rest... he sang in a deep rumble, and his followers sang along. Their music shall be overwhelmed and destroyed!
The wild, crashing music of Melkor and his small band of followers became filled with an implacable sense of cruelty and the domination of other wills. It sent shivers of terror and destruction echoing through the music, and Nienna cried aloud on a high note of pain.
Melkor paid her sorrow little mind, except for a feeling of pride that he had caused it. As her cry rippled downward into a gentle, descending chord of mourning, it was almost drowned out by Melkor's exuberant shout.
Join me! he sang, a triumphant, strident note like a trumpet calling from the top of a mountain. One or two more voices willingly fell in line with his music. Several others, their owners' faces showing confusion and dismay, lost their hold on the original melody and seemed to have no choice but to sing along with Melkor's theme of power and pride.
Melkor looked around, seeking out the faces of those who sang with him. Most of them wore expressions of fierce agreement with Melkor's growing challenge to Ilúvatar, but nowhere did he see more fascination and delight than in the face of one of Aulë's servants: Culnaur, whose name meant a golden-red fire.
Culnaur's eyes lit with an orange glow. This kind of music was far more to his liking! He sang along, his face flooded with enjoyment, striving to bring other singers in line with his and Melkor's discordant melody.
One by one, a great number of them joined in; some faltering and overwhelmed in spite of themselves, others throwing themselves with vivid abandon into the wonderful, forceful dissonance. Eru's theme rose to counter it, and for a while there was great conflict of music.
Culnaur strove louder, feeling his companions around him, and their leader Melkor, doing the same. It was almost as if Ilúvatar was daring them to outdo his music.
What if he is? Culnaur thought. And what if he doesn't know we can? He laughed aloud in cruel, prideful glee, and that laughter became a part of the music.
Suddenly Ilúvatar raised one hand. It was a commanding gesture, the more so because of the smile with which Ilúvatar made it.
For an instant, Culnaur felt fear. This was his Creator! Yet even as a second musical theme arose in response to Eru's will, Culnaur's heart rebelled against the thought of being subdued.
No! he thought, and the same feeling of defiance went into his song. I will not submit! Melkor's music is the greater. I will help him in his victory!
Melkor felt a surge of triumph as he heard Culnaur's musical shout. My power is enough to hold the allegiance of my followers! he thought secretly, not allowing the fact that he had briefly doubted to reach his music. Aloud he sang, Rally to me! Our power will prevail!
He intensified his voice, singing now not only of crackling flame but of creaking, black ice; ice that took the music of Ulmo's waters and hardened it into something akin to Aulë's stone, but crueler.
Melkor sent his melody leaping and weaving from one to the other, burning fires to grinding frost. His followers kept pace around him, creating a wild, deafeningly loud music of destruction and tumult.
The music of Eru's two themes grew stronger as well. Yavanna's voice rose grandly among the others, lofty and strong, and the spirit of growth that her voice had poured into the music from its beginning took form as mighty trees, stretching to the heavens. Their branches spread and interlocked in vibrant strength, and their leaves poured forth joy to nourish the winds of Manwë, which roared louder and whispered more beautifully than before in an awed reply. Their roots took hold in Aulë's stone and soil, which they strengthened even as it protected them, and drank deep of Ulmo's water over which their shading branches spread.
Awed a little himself at the majesty of these new thoughts which Yavanna's music had brought forth, Melkor nevertheless prepared to destroy them. As several of Yavanna's close kinsfolk gave voices to the trees themselves, Melkor signaled to his cohorts. Following his lead they sang of even greater upheaval. The winds were whipped to such fury by Melkor's theme of rising dissonance that they ripped apart the branches of the trees. The wild music of evil tore apart Aulë's stone, laying bare the trees' roots, and loosed the restraints on Ulmo's water so that it arose in crashing floods to cover the land; and always there were the leaping flame and the crushing ice, wreaking destruction of their own.
At the last many of Yavanna's trees were felled. A great number of the Ainur, struck to their hearts by this tragedy, fell silent and cast down their eyes in profound sadness.
Then Ilúvatar arose from his throne, as he had done when he called forth his second theme. His face was grave, and his eyes were filled with sadness for his daughter Yavanna and all those who loved her creations. He raised his right hand and a third theme came into being, sung in grief and yet with abiding faith by the singers who remained faithful to him. Slowly at first, and softly, even those whose voices had died in sorrow joined in with this new theme.
A fear and rage unlike anything he had yet felt awoke in Melkor's heart. Surely a music this soft could pose no threat to the power of He who arises in Might! Yet by that very fact Melkor knew that this music would prove more dangerous to him than any; for why else would Eru have summoned it?
In defiance and rage, consumed by the flames of his own pride, Melkor sang of total domination. He refused even to listen to the third theme of Ilúvatar, though he was constantly aware of it as a thread of fragile yet undying resistance under the might of his own music.
The host of Melkor's companions, now grown great in number, sang with a unified will and all but drowned out the softer, sadder music with their powerful dissonance. Yet time and again, that seemingly lesser music turned the might of Melkor and his followers to its own advantage.
Melkor sang with a voice of crashing doom, and his horde of followers shouted and clamored along. Culnaur, ever mighty among the singers of evil, poured forth the vast power of his own will into his voice until it was second in majesty and strength only to Melkor's own; and many of those who sang along with Melkor's theme sang more loudly because of Culnaur's urging.
Still, it was not enough to destroy Ilúvatar's music as Melkor had first proposed to do. Both sides vied against one another for dominance, yet neither could achieve it.
Ilúvatar stood up a third time from his throne. He lifted both his hands, wrathfully it seemed to Melkor, and the Music of all the Ainur stopped in a crashing chord.
As the silence grew from seconds into minutes, Melkor looked around at the other Ainur, and then looked into his own heart, and he began to feel amazement and confusion at what he had done. I... How did I move so quickly from a few quiet notes of my own to such total rebellion? From beauty to cruelty? What has been happening in my mind?
The thoughts were his own, and he knew that none of the other Ainur heard them; but suddenly Melkor looked up into the face of Ilúvatar his father, and he knew that nothing in his own heart could ever be hidden from the one whose mind had made him.
Ilúvatar nodded once, sadly, looking into Melkor's eyes with an expression of gentle pity that confused him still more. Then Eru began to explain, with all the vast wisdom that was his alone, that each of the Ainur when they sang had been following only Eru's own will - even Melkor.
No! Melkor's heart cried out silently in denial and true pain. Surely my music was my own!
Ilúvatar did not answer Melkor's thought, though the mightiest of the young Ainur knew in his soul that his Creator had heard it. Instead, Ilúvatar summoned the Ainur to follow him into the Void.
Once there, he waved his hand and a vision appeared. Awestruck, Melkor watched along with the rest of the Ainur as all the themes of their songs were made visible.
It was a beautiful world that Ilúvatar showed them, and Melkor wanted it. He trembled with the sudden force of his desire to rule such a place.
Eru spoke again, telling all of them how Melkor's flames and ice, and all the tumults of his rebellious music, had only served to enrich the beauty of the other Ainur's song. Then he turned gravely to Melkor himself.
"In your own pride you were undone," he told Melkor gently, "for though your song contributed in spite of you to the beauty of the Music, you did not keep to your first purpose, and thus you cheated yourself of your own heart's desire. You who began by wishing to create beauty of your own, in the end bent all your will on the creation of dissonance."
Such a fool I was, Melkor thought, painfully ashamed. Discord is never beauty. The acute pain of his embarrassment turned sharp and hard inside him, piercing his heart, and kindling into a low-burning rage that simmered beneath the surface of his thoughts.
Perhaps I can use this flame, a stray thought in Melkor's heart whispered to him. It might make a substitute for the Flame Imperishable which I could not find, and I might use my own flame of anger to create things. He dismissed it, but the thought remained.
Melkor bowed his head, feeling the center of his chest burning with humiliation from the position, and feeling his rage at being forced to feel that humiliation growing stronger, even as he tried to tell himself that it was all his fault.
Eru stood silent, waiting for Melkor's reply. Melkor tried to quiet the fire of rebellion in his eyes, but he knew from the near-physical heat he felt in their sockets that he was failing. He looked up at Ilúvatar anyway, knowing there was little else he could do. To his added shame and thus the fueling of his inner fire that was quickly becoming hatred, Melkor saw a complete understanding of his own heart and thoughts in Eru's face.
"I am sorry, Father," Melkor made himself say, wanting to believe his own words but not quite able to.
The kind understanding and acceptance that he saw in Ilúvatar's eyes, along with his forgiving nod - acceptance not just of his apology, but of his actions themselves - almost made Melkor flee in renewed shame. Only his own strength of spirit, and the vast pride that still remained to him even in the midst of such terrible humiliation, allowed him to remain where he stood.
Author's Note: I made up Culnaur's name by combining two elements from the Silmarillion's list of name components: 'cul-' meaning 'golden-red' and 'naur' (listed under 'nár') meaning 'fire.'
