Chapter 1. To follow another Song.

' There was Eru, the one, who in Arda is called Iluvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made (…) and it came to pass that Iluvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme (…) then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Iluvatar to a great music (…) but as the Theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matter of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and the glory of the part assigned to himself.

(…) Then Iluvatar arose and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm (…) but the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it (…) then again Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted his right hand and behold! A third theme grew amid the confusion (…) And it seemed at last there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Iluvatar, and they were utterly at variance. (…) Iluvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Iluvatar, the Music ceased.

Then Iluvatar spoke, and he said: " Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Iluvatar (…) and Thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme can be played that had not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined." '

From: Ainulindalë

Th wind whistled through the reeds and the grasses, and rippled the waters of the great lake. One by one the stars were lit: like thousands upon thousands of diamonds they shone down upon the Sleepers.

And they awoke.

They woke with starlight in their eyes and the sound of water falling on stone in their ears, and they would love both above all things ever after. Fair they were, the newly awakened: they walked about the shores of the lake, in silence still, a pale glowing light shimmering all around them. Their hair was like spun gold, or woven silver, or polished jet, and their eyes of myriad shades of gray shone too with an inner light that could not be quenched.

Silently they dwelt first, marvelling at the beauty of the world, but it was not long before they learnt to imitate the sound of running water that they loved, and use that sound to give meaning to all that surrounded them.

And thus they began to make speech and give names to what they perceived. Their birthplace they called Cuiviénen, the Lake of Awakening, and themselves they named the Quendi, signifying those that speak with voices. Each other too they gave names: Ingwë and Finwë, and the brethren (so called because they awoke in a single moment) Elwë, Olwë and Elmö, and many more, male and female, whose names have not been all been recorded in History. And as time passed they grew in number, though no longer by Awakening, but in that they took each other as man and wife, and had children. In those days, they did not know that they were not alone in the world. They knew nothing of Iluvatar, or the Ainur, nor of Melkor's revolt, nor of Valinor and the Trees.

And on a time it chanced that Oromë of the Valar rode eastward in his hunting, for he would ride at whiles in the darkness of the unlit forests; with spear and bow, pursuing to the death the monsters and fell creatures of the kingdom of Melkor. And he turned North by the shores of Helcar and passed under the shadows of the Orocani, the Mountains of the East, and his white horse Nahar shone like silver in the shadow. The sleeping earth trembled at the beat of his golden hooves, and in the twilight of the world Oromë sounded the Valaroma his great horn upon the plains of Arda; whereat the mountains echoed and the shadows of Evil fled away, and Melkor himself quailed in Utumno, foreboding the wrath to come.

Then on a sudden Nahar set up a great neighing, and stood still.

And Oromë wondered and sat silent, and it seemed to him that in the quiet of the land under the stars he heard afar off many voices singing.

Thus it was that the Valar found at last, as it were by chance, those whom they had so long awaited.

Oromë went forth eagerly, and among the trees he perceived for the first time the Elder Children of Iluvatar, tall and fair and merry, as they laughed and danced in circles on the green grass of a large clearing, adding their own voices to the music of many instruments.

So eager was he to meet and speak with them that he urged Nahar onwards, and out the great horse stepped, into their midst.

Their reaction was one of fear: all dance and music ceased; some screamed, and many fled, filled with dread.

This was the doing of Melkor: he had already been aware of the awakening of the Quendi, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon them and waylay them. So it had come to pass, some years ere the coming of Oromë, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return; and the Quendi said that the Hunter had caught them, and they were afraid. Indeed for many years afterward their songs told of shadow-shapes that walked in the hills above Cuiviénen, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of the dark Rider upon his wild Horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them.

And so they fled, believing the dark Hunter had come upon them, and hid themselves: this was Melkor's purpose: that they should shun Oromë if ever they should meet.

Yet those that had courage stayed, and drew closer, perceiving that there was a light in the Rider's face that was unlike any they had seen, and could not be on a shape of Darkness.

They marvelled at this, and whispered amongst themselves, and Nahar neighed again. The timorous drew back, but Oromë laughed, and dismounted, and went among them smilingly, and he too was filled with wonder, as though they were beings sudden and marvellous and unforeseen.

Here and there in the grass lay scattered the instruments some of the flyers had dropped: crudely fashioned still, for being new to Arda they had but basic skills in making things, and were learning still, by trial and error.

Yet for all that they had made the most beautiful music with it.

Oromë bend down to pick one up: reed pipes, of different length, in a double row, bound together with grass.

But before his hand could touch it, a voice spoke up from among the Elves:

"No."

In later days, none who remained of those that were present would admit that that was the first word spoken by a Quendi to a Vala, save the one that spoke it. Out of the circle of Eldar stepped a proud, slender figure, smaller than the others: a she-elf, clad in long robes of leather tanned so fine that they glowed pale in the starlight,

dark hair braided in many thin tresses interwoven with tiny niphredil flowers falling down her back.

Her bare feet made no imprint in the grass as she strode up to the Huntsman, and her eyes of deepest grey, so deep that they were almost black shone fiercely and unafraid into his own.

"No. That is my brother's pipes, and I will not suffer anyone else to touch it."

A slight frown like a sudden stormcloud passed over Oromë's face: never before in his existence had he been denied. The Elves saw his frown, and shuddered, fearing his wrath. Yet the cloud passed as quickly as it had come, and he smiled at her again.

"Your brother fled. Am I that fearsome then?"

They were amazed then that he spoke their tongue, and indeed in that he spoke at all, for as yet they had met no other living thing that spoke.

She answered his words, but not his smile: "Should I not be afeared? Many of our folk have been taken by a Hunter such as you, or so we deem, for he roams the hills and is sometimes seen from afar, but never close: are you he?"

Once more the fearful drew back, for what being of such obvious power and majesty would be spoken to in so bold a manner and not be angered? Another Elf stepped forward: goldenhaired Ingwë, and he berated her:

"Surely you can see that this is no creature of Darkness? You should be glad and welcome the fair and mighty one, for verily we are blessed that we may have the company of other Living Beings that Speak."

"I would welcome his company," she replied, unabashed, "But not that of his weapons, not until I know against whom he carries them. And indeed I would know for how long he has studied us at unawares, that he can speak our tongue so fluently. As we devised it ourselves, it seems impossible to me that a stranger to us has mastered it in but a few moments."

"As to that," said Oromë, "I am an Arata, one of the Nine of the Valar that are Ainur come to Eä, sprung from the very thought of Eru, the One, and had my part in the making of this world, though not of you, for that Power rests with Eru alone. Yet I beheld you in the Vision, and heard your Song in the Music of Making, and my own power is such that truly I can understand your tongue and speak it, though I have never heard nor spoken it before. As for my bow and spear: be assured that they are meant for the very monsters and fell beasts that you fear."

At that, the Elves cried out in many glad voices in relief, and laughed, and sang songs in praise of the Valar and the Ainur, and the One, though as yet they knew but little of them. And in turn Oromë told them many tales of the making of Arda and the Beginning of Days.

Yet the she-elf did not cry out, or laughed, or sang, but merely picked up the pipes and went in search of her brother. She called for him in the woods and on the shores of Cuiviénen, and even went into the hills, despite the danger. But he never answered, and with many others was lost forever. When all others who searched with her had given up hope already, she continued calling her brother's name, heedless of whom or what might hear.

Yet in the end she too had to bow to the inevitable, and acknowledge his loss. And she sank to her knees and wept, long and grievously, and her fellows knew not how to comfort her. Then after a time she rose and passed her hands over her face, throwing back the tresses in which the nephridil flowers were now withered and brown.

"Now I have mourned: now I shall go to this Oromë, and listen to what he has to say, and ask what he proposes to do about the disappearance of our kin. And we shall see what we shall see."

Then she took off the robes she had worn for merrymaking, and put on rough hunting garb, and on her belt she hung a flint knife: sharp and deadly. Her followers did likewise, and their faces were set grim but determined, for all had lost loved ones with the coming of the Vala. Though they did not go so far as to blame him entirely for this, they did perceive it so that he was responsible for their people taking fright and fleeing, and that the aid of a powerful being (as he had professed himself to be) would be welcome in preventing further losses, or perhaps even in going forth and seek out the Dark Huntsman, and save their kinsmen from his clutches, if they were still alive, and if not, avenge them.

They came upon the Vala in the very clearing were they had first laid eyes on him, and many Quendi were there with him: Ingwë and Finwë, Elwë and Olwë and even Elmö. All sat or stood upon the grass in rapt silence and attention as they listened to Oromë tell of the Great among the Ainur, that are the Valar:

"The Lords of the Valar are seven, and the Valier, the Queens of the Valar, are seven also.

Manwë was appointed the first of all Kings: in Arda his delight is in the winds and the clouds, and in all the regions of the air, from the heights to the depths, from the utmost borders of the Veil of Arda to the breezes that blow in the grass. All swift birds, strong of wing, he loves and they come and go at his bidding.

With Manwë dwells Varda, lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä: in light is her power and joy, and it is she who wrought the stars that you love. Manwë and Varda are seldom parted: they fulfil each other.

Their halls are above the everlasting snow, upon Oïolossë, the uttermost tower of Taniquetil, tallest of all mountains upon Earth.

Ulmo is lord of the Water. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all the deep waters about or under the Earth. He is next in might to Manwë, and closest to him in friendship. All seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government: thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda, which otherwise would be hidden from Manwë."

"So!" the she-elf cried, "Then your kind must have known of our pain, even before you came, for often have we sat on the banks of Cuiviénen lamenting those that were taken from us by the Dark One: even now have we cried the names of those who did not return over its still waters. Will not the mighty Valar come to our aid? Have you been send to the rescue of our kin?"

Oromë looked upon her pityingly, and said: "Nay, for though we knew that your Awakening was near, we knew not where nor when it would come to pass, and it was by chance that I came upon you, or so it seems."

"Ah. So. Then the Mighty Valar are not as all-seeing, all-hearing, all-knowing as you would have us believe, for our Awakening occurred already long ago, at least, long enough for us to devise speech, have children, and for our children to grow to full waxdom and have children of their own in turn, that are full-grown. Be that as it may, it is your help we need most of all."

"And you shall have it, in counsel and learning, that you may prosper and grow in wisdom. From Aulë you shall learn, for he is a smith and master of all crafts, and he delights in works of skill. His are the gems that lie deep in the Earth and gold that is fair in the hand. In might he is little less than Ulmo. His spouse is Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits. She is the lover of all things that grow in the Earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in the forests to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould.

She…"

"That is not what I asked for!" interrupted the she-elf, "Those things are fair to be sure, and surely will be welcome, but not our most immediate need. Nor are they so strange that we may not come at it by ourselves. Why, did we not teach ourselves speech? Did we not discover by ourselves how to make fire, and learn to sharpen flint rock to knives, and spear-and arrowheads, and hunt animals for food and clothing? And did we not find out which roots and berries were good to eat, and which were not? And how to collect the seeds of certain grasses, and crush them to meal and from it bake bread? Did we not without anyone's help or instruction make instruments like this pipes, for our delight and merriment?"

And she held out her brother's pipes, which she carried with her on a thong round her neck.

"We do not ask for your many crafts, only for our loved ones back! My brother is the most precious of gems to me. I wish for no gold but his hand in mine, as we were at our awakening, and for the sound of his voice, and the music of his pipes."

Again she had defied the Vala, and yet again he frowned at her.

There was much angry shouting too from her kinsmen who had been listening to his tales, and already loved and revered the Valar: of these, Ingwë and Fingwë were the chiefs, and Olwë; but Elwë and Elmö kept their peace, while their kin rebuked her with stern words, which she listened to unmoved. And when they had finished, she turned to Oromë a third time, and asked: " If you will not help in deeds, at least tell us what may have befallen our lost ones, and what this Dark Force is that took them from us, that we may have some idea what we are up against, for I am determined to rescue my kin!"

Now Oromë looked upon her with sorrow, and spoke gravely: " That you had better not attempt, for though you are valiant you will not succeed against the might of Melkor! He and Manwë are brethren, and he was the mightiest of the Ainur, but Manwë is dearest to Eru, the One. In the fashioning of Arda the chief part was undertaken by Manwë and Aulë and Ulmo; but Melkor too was there from the first, and he meddled in all that was done, turning it if he might to his own desires and purposes. When he took visible form, the malice that came by envy that burned in him caused that form to be dark and terrible, and there was War between us, for he sought to rule the Earth, and were we build lands he destroyed them; valleys did we delve, and he raised them up; mountains we carved, and he threw them down; seas we hollowed, and he spilled them; and naught might have peace or come to lasting growth, for as surely as we began a labour so he would undo it or corrupt it. For he covets Arda and all that is in it, desiring the Kingship of Manwë and dominion over our realms. From splendour he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless. Understanding he turned to subtlety in perverting to his own will all that he would use, until he became a liar without shame. He began with the desire of light, but when he could not posses it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness, and Darkness he uses most in his evil works upon Arda."

The Elves cried out at this and some fell upon the ground trembling in fear and covered their ears, and wrung their hands at the Vala, begging him to stop. Yet he went on relentlessly:

"And so it is that he holds Dominion over most of the lands of Earth, for he is not alone: of the Maiar, our servants and helpers, many were drawn to his splendour in the days of his greatness, and remained in that allegiance down into his darkness; and others he corrupted afterwards to his service with lies and treacherous gifts. When we still dwelt in Middle Earth he brought war upon us, and though by the might of Tulkas the Strong we were able to drive him back, our dwellingplace was utterly destroyed, and we departed to the land of Aman, the westernmost of all lands upon the borders of the world. And there we raised the Pelori, the mountains of Aman, highest upon Earth, which protect Valinor. Yet we forsake not in our thoughts the Outer Lands.

Ulmo is ever wandering here, and so are many of his spirits. Yavanna too is unwilling to utterly abandon Middle Earth, and she at times will come to heal the hurts of Melkor, and is forever urging the Valar to make war against his evil dominion, as surely we should have waged ere you awoke, and assuredly we shall."

This brought hope to the hearts of the Elves, and they cried out their gladness; but the she-elf insisted: " What of our lost kin?"

Again Oromë looked at her with pity:" Of those unhappy ones who are ensnared by Melkor little is known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pit of Utumno, or has espied the Darkness of the counsels of Melkor?"

Then the she-elf threw back her head and keened: a soul-rending wordless cry of grief that pierced the hearts of many an Elf. Oromë too was moved, and spoke words of comfort, and vowed that he would hunt the foul creatures of Melkor till they had vanished from the Earth, and his power broken.

She stared at him in silence for a while, and her eyes grew hard.

"You say that none has descended into the pit of Utumno. There will be one who shall."

And she drew her knife.

A great cry sprung from the lips of the Elves that were friendly to Oromë, and Ingwë and Finwë threw themselves as living shields in front of the Vala, fearing she would do him some mischief.

She looked upon them with contempt.

"Faithless ones! Is this how you show your love? Were we not friends? Were we not the First, did we not dwell together for many a season? Do you not know me? What exactly do you deem me capable of, me, your kinswoman, your friend! As my brother was your friend. Yet I see your love has turned away from us and been bestowed upon this Stranger, whom now you trust more than I. So be it."

And she drew the knife across the palm of her left hand: bright drops of red Elven blood fell upon the greensward.

"By this my Blood, I swear I shall not return till I know what befell Iluve my brother, whom I loved above life, yea, though I may fall into Darkness myself."

A cold wind blew as she spoke these words: now Oromë rose in anger, and was dreadful to behold.

"You have spoken your own Doom!"

"Perhaps. Yet it is my Doom, and mine alone. And this I say also: my people have known hardship, and have lived in fear of the darkness, but still they were free. Touch not upon that freedom, for in the end ill it will befall you."

And she sped away, and to the grief of Oromë and the Quendi, many followed her, and among them was Elmö.

She led them back to the shores of Cuiviénen, and turned northwards.

"There!" she cried, as she pointed ahead, "There in the North lies the Dark Land were our kin are held! There I shall go. But none shall follow me: it is enough that my brother suffers at the hands of the Evil One: I will not have harm come to any of you on my account."

Then Elmö spoke: "Do you think yourself to be alone in suffering the loss of a loved one? All of us do so. We cannot forsake you anymore than we can them. I have not forgotten my friendship with Iluve, or with you!"

Her grave countenance softened then, and she took his hands gently in hers.

"Stay you must though, for alone I stand a better chance, and what is more: I count on you to keep alive the free spirit of our people! To everyone of you I say this: from the Vala we have learnt that we are come from song, and that that Song was set in the mind of Eru from the Beginning of Days, and that there is no escape from it.

That may be so, but ever should we strive to follow another Song: our own! Farewell!"

Thus she set forth: and her name is not mentioned in Eldar history, for her people were forever sundered from the other Quendi. Avari, they were called in later days, the Unwilling, or Dark Elves: when the Summons of the Valar came they refused to go to Aman. Their land became barbarous with Dark Powers and evil races, and they dwindled and hid themselves. They lived always close to the wooded land, built no cities, and had no kings.

As for Elmö: long did he stand by the waters of Cuiviénen, and stared out to the North. Then he opened his hands that all this time he held clenched, and there was dried blood on it.

"Oh my dear friend, I fear your Doom has fallen on me also. I would have followed you, if you would have let me: but your words are wise. And I know that one day you will return. To that day I must prepare. For I have brothers also, whom I love; nor will I have their hearts set against you. Our people were one and undivided: so should it ever be. I do not know if I can mend this sundering, for words were spoken that cannot be unsaid; yet the love we once held for each other should prevail. To that end I pledge my life. Have no fear: we that were First shall be together again in joy and love: Ingwë, Fingwë, Elwë and Olwë and I… and Iluve too, and you, fair Ilwë."

To be continued.

The above owes much (textually and otherwise) to 'The Silmarillion' and to David Day's 'Tolkien: The Illustrated Encyclopaedia.' All characters except Iluve and Ilwë are Tolkien's.