Thus it came to pass that Inglor found the deep gorge of Narog and the caves in its western side; and he built there a stronghold and armouries after the fashion of the deep mansions of Menegroth. And he called this place Nargothrond, and made there his home with many of his folk; and the Gnomes of the North, at first in merriment, called him on this account Felagund, or Lord of Caves, and that name he bore thereafter until his end. But Turgon went alone into hidden places, and by the guidance of Ulmo found the secret vale of Gondolin; and of this he said nought as yet, but returned to Nevrast and his folk.
In a further passage of the Quenta Silmarillion it is told of Turgon, the second son of Fingolfin, that he ruled over a numerous people, but ‘the unquiet of Ulmo increased upon him;’
he arose, and took with him a great host of Gnomes, even to a third of the people of Fingolfin, and their goods and wives and children, and departed eastward. His going was by night and his march swift and silent, and he vanished out of knowledge of his kindred. But he came to Gondolin, and built there a city like unto Tûn of Valinor, and fortified the surrounding hills; and Gondolin lay hidden for many years.
A third, and essential, citation comes from a different source. There are two texts, bearing the titles The Annals of Beleriand and The Annals of Valinor. These were begun about 1930, and are extant in subsequent versions. I have said of them: ‘The Annals began, perhaps, in parallel with the Quenta as a convenient way of driving abreast, and keeping track of, the different elements in the ever more complex narrative web.’ The final text of The Annals of Beleriand, also named the Grey Annals, derive from the time in the early 1950s when my father turned again to the matter of the Elder Days after the completion of The Lord of the Rings. It was a major source for the published Silmarillion.
There follows here a passage from the Grey Annals; it refers to the year ‘in which Gondolin was full-wrought, after fifty and two years of secret toil’.
Now therefore Turgon prepared to depart from Nevrast, and leave his fair halls in Vinyamar beneath Mount Taras; and then Ulmo came to him a second time and said: ‘Now thou shalt go at last to Gondolin, Turgon; and I will set my power in the Vale of Sirion, so that none shall mark thy going, nor shall any find there the hidden entrance to thy land against thy will. Longest of all the realms of the Eldalië shall Gondolin stand against Melkor. But love it not too well, and remember that the true hope of the Noldor lieth in the West and cometh from the Sea.’2
And Ulmo warned Turgon that he also lay under the Doom of Mandos, which Ulmo had no power to remove. ‘Thus it may come to pass,’ he said, ‘that the curse of the Noldor shall find thee too ere the end, and treason shall awake within thy walls. Then shall they be in peril of fire. But if this peril draweth nigh, then even from Nevrast one shall come to warn thee, and from him beyond ruin and fire hope shall be born for Elves and Men. Leave, therefore, in this house arms and a sword, that in years to come he may find them, and thus shalt thou know him and be not deceived.’ And Ulmo showed to Turgon of what kind and stature should be the mail and helm and sword that he left behind.
Then Ulmo returned to the Sea; and Turgon sent forth all his folk … and they passed away, company by company, secretly, under the shadows of Eryd Wethion, and came unseen with their wives and goods to Gondolin, and none knew whither they were gone. And last of all Turgon arose and went with his lords and household silently through the hills and passed the gates in the mountains, and they were shut. But Nevrast was empty of folk and so remained until the ruin of Beleriand.
In this last passage is seen the explanation of the shield and sword, the hauberk and helm, that Tuor found when he entered the great hall of Vinyamar (LV p.162).
After the conclusion of the meeting of Ulmo with Tuor in the Land of Willows all the early texts (the Tale, the Sketch, the Quenta Noldorinwa) move on to the journey of Tuor and Voronwë in search of Gondolin. Of the eastward journey itself there is indeed scarcely any mention, the mystery of the hidden city residing in the secret of entry to Tumladen (to which in the Sketch and Quenta Noldorinwa Ulmo gives them aid).
But here we will return to the Last Version, which I left in this discussion at the coming of Tuor to the coast of the Sea in the region of Nevrast (LV p.158). Here we see the great abandoned house of Vinyamar beneath Mount Taras (‘eldest of all the works of stone that the Noldor built in the lands of their exile’) where Turgon first dwelt, and which Tuor now entered. Of all that follows (‘Tuor in Vinyamar’, LV pp.161 ff.) there is no hint or preceding trace in the early texts – save of course the advent of Ulmo, told again after a lapse of thirty-five years.
*
I pause here to observe what is told elsewhere concerning the guidance, indeed the urging, of Tuor in the furtherance of Ulmo’s designs.
The origin of his ‘designs’ that came to be centred on Tuor arose from the massive and far-reaching event that came to be called The Hiding of Valinor. There exists an early story, one of the Lost Tales, that bears that title, and describes the origin and nature of this alteration of the world in the Elder Days. It arose from the rebellion of the Noldoli (Noldor) under the leadership of Fëanor, maker of the Silmarils, against the Valar, and their intent to leave Valinor. I have described very briefly the consequence of that decision in Beren and Lúthien, p.23, and I repeat that here.
Before their departure from Valinor there took place the dreadful event that marred the history of the Noldor in Middle-earth. Fëanor demanded of those Teleri, the third host of the Eldar on the Great Journey [from the place of their Awakening], who dwelt now on the coast of Aman, that they give up to the Noldor their fleet of ships, their great pride, for without ships the crossing to Middle-earth by such a host would not be possible. This the Teleri refused utterly. Then Fëanor and his people attacked the Teleri in their city of Alqualondë, the Haven of the Swans, and took the fleet by force. In that battle, which was known as the Kinslaying, many of the Teleri were slain.
In The Hiding of Valinor there is a remarkable description of a very heated and indeed extraordinary meeting of the Valar that bears on the present subject. On this occasion there was present an Elf of Alqualondë named Ainairos whose kin had perished in the battle of the Haven, ‘and he sought unceasingly with his words to persuade the [Teleri] to greater bitterness of heart.’ This Ainairos spoke at the debate, and his words are recorded in The Hiding of Valinor.
He laid before the Gods the mind of the Elves [i.e. the Teleri] concerning the Noldoli and of the nakedness of the land of Valinor toward the world beyond. Thereat arose much tumult and many of the Valar and their folk supported him loudly, and some others of the Eldar cried out that Manwë and Varda had caused their kindred to dwell in Valinor promising them unfailing joy therein – now let the Gods see to it that their gladness was not minished to a little thing, seeing that Melko held the world and they dared not fare forth to the places of their awakening even if they would.
The most of the Valar moreover were fain of their ancient ease and desired only peace, wishing neither rumour of Melko and his violence nor murmur of the restless Gnomes to come ever again among them to disturb their happiness; and for such reasons they also clamoured for the concealment of the land. Not the least among these were Vána and Nessa, albeit most even of the great Gods were of one mind. In vain did Ulmo of his foreknowing plead before them for pity and pardon on the Noldoli, or Manwë unfold the secrets of the Music of the Ainur and the purpose of the world; and long and very full of that noise was that council, and more filled with bitterness and burning words than any that had been; wherefore did Manwë Súlimo depart at length from among them, saying that no walls or bulwarks might now fend Melko’s evil from them which lived already among them and clouded all their minds.
So came it that the enemies of the Gnomes carried the council of the Gods and the blood of [the Haven of the Swans] began already its fell work; for now began that which is named the Hiding of Valinor, and Manwë and Varda and Ulmo of the Seas had no part therein, but none
others of the Valar or the Elves held aloof therefrom …
Now Lórien and Vána led the Gods and Aulë lent his skill and Tulkas his strength, and the Valar went not at that time forth to conquer Melko, and the greatest ruth was that to them thereafter, and yet is; for the great glory of the Valar by reason of that error came not to its fullness in many ages of the Earth, and still doth the world await it.
Very striking is this last passage, with its clear representation of the Gods as indolently regarding only their own security and well-being, and expression of the view that they had committed a colossal ‘error’, for in failing to make war on Melko they left Middle-earth open to the destructive ambitions and hatreds of the arch-enemy. But such condemnation of the Valar is not found in later writing. The Hiding of Valinor is present only as a great fact of legendary antiquity.
There follows in The Hiding of Valinor a passage in which the gigantic and manifold works of defence are described – ‘new and mighty labours such as had not been seen among them since the days of the first building of Valinor’, such as the making of the encircling mountains more utterly impassable on their eastern sides.
From North to South marched the enchantments and inaccessible magic of the Gods, yet were they not content; and they said: ‘Behold, we will cause all the paths that fare to Valinor, both known and secret, to fade utterly from the world, or wander treacherously into blind confusion.’
This then they did, and no channel in the seas was left that was not beset with perilous eddies or with streams of overmastering strength for the confusion of all ships. And spirits of sudden storms and winds unlooked for brooded there by Ossë’s will, and others of inextricable mist.
To read of the effects of the Hiding of Valinor on Gondolin one may look ahead to Turgon’s words to Tuor in the Tale, speaking of the fate of the many messengers that had been sent from Gondolin to build ships for the voyage to Valinor (p.57):
‘… but the paths thereto are forgotten and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, and they that sit within in mirth reck little of the dread of Melko or the sorrow of the world, but hide their land and weave about it inaccessible magic, that no tidings of evil come ever to their ears. Nay, enough of my people have for years untold gone out to the wide waters never to return, but have perished in the deep places or wander now lost in the shadows that have no paths; and at the coming of next year no more shall fare to the sea …’
(It is a very curious fact that Turgon’s words here were uttered in ironic repetition of Tuor’s, spoken as Ulmo bade him, immediately preceding (Tale p.56):
‘… lo! the paths thereto are forgotten and the highways faded from the world, and the seas and mountains are about it, yet still dwell there the Elves on the hill of Kôr and the Gods sit in Valinor, though their mirth is minished for sorrow and fear of Melko, and they hide their land and weave about it inaccessible magic that no evil come to its shores.’)
on pp.115–17 (Turlin and the Exiles of Gondolin) I have given a brief text that was soon abandoned, but was clearly intended as the beginning of a new version of the Tale (but still with the old version of the genealogy of Tuor, which was replaced by that of the house of Hador in the Sketch of 1926). It is a remarkable feature of this piece that Ulmo is explicitly represented as altogether alone among the Valar in his concern for the Elves who lived under the power of Melko, ‘nor did any save Ulmo only dread the power of Melko that wrought ruin and sorrow over all the Earth; but Ulmo desired that Valinor should gather all its might to quench his evil ere it be too late, and it seemed to him that both his purposes might perchance be achieved if messengers from the Gnomes should win to Valinor and plead for pardon and for pity upon the Earth.’
It was here that the ‘isolation’ of Ulmo among the Valar first appears, for there is no suggestion of it in the Tale. I will conclude this account with a repetition of how Ulmo saw it in his words to Tuor as he stood at the water’s edge in the rising storm at Vinyamar (LV pp.165–6).
And Ulmo spoke to Tuor of Valinor and its darkening, and the Exile of the Noldor, and the Doom of Mandos, and the hiding of the Blessed Realm. ‘But behold!’ said he, ‘in the armour of Fate (as the Children of Earth name it) there is ever a rift, and in the walls of Doom a breach, until the full-making, which ye call the End. So it shall be while I endure, a secret voice that gainsayeth, and a light where darkness was decreed. Therefore, though in the days of this darkness I seem to oppose the will of my brethren, the Lords of the West, that is my part among them, to which I was appointed ere the making of the World. Yet Doom is strong, and the shadow of the Enemy lengthens; and I am diminished, until in Middle-earth I am become now no more than a secret whisper. The waters that run westward wither, and their springs are poisoned, and my power withdraws from the land; for Elves and Men grow blind and deaf to me because of the might of Melkor. And now the Curse of Mandos hastens to its fulfilment, and all the works of the Noldor shall perish, and every hope that they build will crumble. The last hope alone is left, the hope that they have not looked for and have not prepared. And that hope lieth in thee; for so I have chosen.’
This leads to a further question: why did he choose Tuor? Or even, why did he choose a Man? To this latter question an answer is given in the Tale, p.62:
Behold now many years have gone since Tuor was lost amid the foothills and deserted by those Noldoli; yet many years too have gone since to Melko’s ears came first those strange tidings – faint were they and various in form – of a man wandering amid the dales of the waters of Sirion. Now Melko was not much afraid of the race of Men in those days of his great power, and for this reason did Ulmo work through one of this kindred for the better deceiving of Melko, seeing that no Valar and scarce any of the Eldar or Noldoli might stir unmarked of his vigilance.
But to the far more significant question I think that the answer lies in the words of Ulmo to Tuor at Vinyamar (LV p.166), when Tuor said to him: ‘Of little avail shall I be, a mortal man alone, among so many and so valiant of the High Folk of West.’ To this Ulmo replied:
‘If I choose to send thee, Tuor son of Huor, then believe not that thy one sword is not worth the sending. For the valour of the Edain the Elves shall ever remember as the ages lengthen, marvelling that they gave life so freely of which on earth they had so little. But it is not for thy valour only that I send thee, but to bring into the world a hope beyond thy sight, and a light that shall pierce the darkness.’
What was that hope? I believe that it was the event that Ulmo declared with such miraculous foresight to Tuor in the Tale (p.47):
‘… of a surety a child shall come of thee than whom no man shall know more of the uttermost deeps, be it of the sea or of the firmament of heaven.’
As I have observed (p.217 above), the child was Eärendel.
It cannot be doubted that Ulmo’s prophetic words ‘a light that shall pierce the darkness’, sent by Ulmo himself, and brought into the world by Tuor, is Eärendel. But strange indeed as it appears, there is a passage elsewhere showing that Ulmo’s ‘miraculous foresight’, as I have called it, had emerged many years before, independently of Ulmo.
This passage occurs in the version of the text The Annals of Beleriand known as the Grey Annals, from the period following the completion of The Lord of the Rings, on which see The Evolution of the Story here. The scene is the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, towards its end with the death of Fingon the Elvenking.
The day was lost, but still Húrin and Huor with the men of Hador stood firm, and the Orcs could not yet win the passes of Sirion … The last stand of Húrin and Huor is the deed of war most renowned among the Eldar that the Fathers of Men wrought in their behalf. For Húrin spoke to Turgon saying: ‘Go now, lord, while time is! For last art thou of the House of Fingolfin, and in thee lives the last hope of the Noldor. While Gondolin stands, strong and guarded, Morgoth shall still know fear in his heart.’
‘Yet not long now can Gondolin be hidden, and being discove
red it must fall,’ said Turgon.
‘Yet if it stands but a little while,’ said Huor, ‘then out of thy house shall come the hope of Elves and Men. This I say to thee, lord, with the eyes of death; though here we part for ever, and I shall never look on thy white walls, from thee and me shall a new star arise.’
Turgon accepted the counsel of Húrin and Huor. He withdrew with all such warriors as he could gather from the host of Fingon and from Gondolin and vanished into the mountains, while Húrin and Huor held the pass behind them against the swarming host of Morgoth. Huor fell with a poisoned arrow in the eye.
We cannot overestimate the divine powers of Ulmo – mightiest of the Gods after Manwë alone: in his vast knowledge and foreknowledge, and in his inconceivable ability to enter the minds of other beings and influence their thoughts and even their understanding from far away. Most notable of course is his speaking through Tuor when he came to Gondolin. This goes back to the Tale: ‘Words I will set to your mouth there’ (p.46); and in the Last Version (p.167), when Tuor asks ‘What words shall I say unto Turgon?’, Ulmo replies: ‘If thou come to him, then the words shall arise in thy mind, then thy mouth shall speak as I would.’ In the Tale (p.55) this capacity of Ulmo goes even further: ‘Then spoke Tuor, and Ulmo set power in his heart and majesty in his voice.’
In this discursive discussion of Ulmo’s designs for Tuor we have come to Vinyamar, and to the second appearance of the God in this narrative that differs profoundly from that in the Tale (p.45 and p.216 above). No longer does he come up the great river Sirion and make music sitting in the reeds, but as a great storm of the sea draws near he strides out of a wave, ‘a living shape of great height and majesty’, seeming to Tuor a mighty king wearing a tall crown; and the God speaks to the Man ‘standing knee-deep in the shadowy sea’. But the entire episode of Tuor’s coming to Vinyamar was absent from the story as it previously existed; and thus likewise the essential element, in the Last Version, of the arms left for him in the house of Turgon (see LV here and here above).
The Fall of Gondolin Page 18
