It is conceivable, however, that the germ of this story was present as far back as the Tale, p.55, when Turgon greets Tuor before the doors of his palace: ‘Welcome, O Man of the Land of Shadows. Lo! thy coming was set in our books of wisdom, and it has been written that there would come to pass many great things in the homes of the Gondothlim whenso thou faredst hither.’
In the Last Version there appears (p.169) the Noldorin Elf Voronwë in a role that binds him from his first appearance in the narrative to the tale of Tuor and Ulmo, wholly distinct from his entry in earlier texts (see here). After the departure of Ulmo
Tuor looked down from the lowest terrace [of Vinyamar] and saw, leaning against its wall among the stones and the sea-wrack, an Elf, clad in a grey cloak sodden with the sea … As Tuor stood and looked at the silent grey figure he remembered the words of Ulmo, and a name untaught came to his lips, and he called aloud: ‘Welcome, Voronwë! I await you.’
These words of Ulmo were his last to Tuor before his departure (LV here):
‘I will send one to thee out of the wrath of Ossë, and thus shalt thou be guided: yea, the last mariner of the last ship that shall seek into the West until the rising of the Star.’
And this mariner was Voronwë, who told his story to Tuor beside the sea at Vinyamar (LV pp.173–7). His account of his voyaging over seven years in the Great Sea was a grim one to give to Tuor, so greatly enamoured of the ocean. But before setting forth on his mission, he said (LV p.174 ff.):
I tarried on the way. For I had seen little of the lands of Middle-earth, and we came to Nan-tathrin in the spring of the year. Lovely to heart’s enchantment is that land, Tuor, as you shall find, if ever your feet go upon the southward roads down Sirion. There is the cure of all sea-longing …
The story in the Tale of Tuor’s overlong stay in Nan-tathrin, the Land of Willows, the cause of Ulmo’s visitation as originally told, bewitched by its beauty, had now of course disappeared from the narrative; but it was not lost. In the last version it was Voronwë, speaking to Tuor at Vinyamar, who had passed a while in Nan-tathrin, and become enthralled as he ‘stood knee-deep in grass’ (LV p.175); in the old story it had been Tuor who ‘stood knee-deep in the grass’ in the Land of Willows (Tale p.46). Both Tuor and Voronwë gave names of their own to the flowers and birds and butterflies unknown to them.
Since we shall not in this ‘Evolution of the Story’ meet again Ulmo in person I attach here a portrait of the great Vala that my father wrote in his work The Music of the Ainur (late 1930s):
Ulmo has dwelt ever in the Outer Ocean, and governed the flowing of all waters, and the courses of all rivers, the replenishment of springs and the distilling of rain and dew throughout the world. In the deep places he gives thought to music great and terrible; and the echo thereof runs through all the veins of the world, and its joy is as the joy of a fountain in the sun whose wells are the wells of unfathomed sorrow at the foundations of the world. The Teleri learned much of him, and for this reason their music has both sadness and enchantment.
We come now to the journey of Tuor and Voronwë from Vinyamar in Nevrast, beside the sea in the far West, to find Gondolin. This would take them eastward along the southern side of the great mountain range Ered Wethrin, the Mountains of Shadow, that formed a vast barrier between Hithlum and West Beleriand, and bring them at last to the great river Sirion running from north to south.
The earliest reference, in the Tale (p.49), says no more than that ‘Long time did Tuor and Voronwë [who in the old story had never been there] seek for the city of that folk [the Gondothlim], until after many days they came upon a deep dale amid the hills’. Likewise the Sketch, not surprisingly, says very simply (pp.123–4) that ‘Tuor and Bronweg reach the secret way … and come out upon the guarded plain.’ And the Quenta Noldorinwa (p.137) is equally brief: ‘Obedient to Ulmo Tuor and Bronwë journeyed North, and came at last to the hidden door.’
Beside these terse glances the account in the Last Version of the fearful days passed by Tuor and Voronwë in the bitter winds and biting frosts of the houseless country, their escape from the bands of Orcs and their encampments, the coming of the eagles, may be seen as a significant element in the history of Gondolin. (On the presence of the eagles in that region see Quenta Noldorinwa here and LV here.) Most notable is their coming to the Pool of Ivrin (p.178), the lake where the river Narog rose, now defiled and made desolate by the passage of the dragon Glaurung (called by Voronwë ‘the Great Worm of Angband’). Here the seekers of Gondolin touched the greatest story of the Elder Days: for they saw a tall man passing, bearing a long sword drawn, and the blade was long and black. They did not speak to this man clad in black; and they did not know that he was Túrin Turambar, the Blacksword, fleeing north from the sack of Nargothrond, of which they had not heard. ‘Thus only for a moment, and never again, did the paths of those kinsmen, Túrin and Tuor, draw together.’ (Húrin the father of Túrin was the brother of Huor the father of Tuor.)
We come now to the last step in the ‘Evolution of the Story’ (because the Last Version extends no further): the first sight of Gondolin, by way of the hidden and guarded entry into the plain of Tumladen – a ‘door’ or ‘gate’ of renown in the history of Middle-earth. In the Tale (p.49) Tuor and Voronwë came to a place where the river (Sirion) ‘went over a very stony bed’. This was the Ford of Brithiach, not yet so named; ‘it was curtained with a heavy growth of alders’, but the banks were sheer-sided. There in the ‘green wall’ Voronwë found ‘an opening like a great door with sloping sides, and this was cloaked with thick bushes and long-tangled undergrowth’.
Passing through this opening (p.49) they found themselves in a dark and wandering tunnel. In this they groped their way until they saw a distant light, ‘and making for this gleam they came to a gate like that by which they had entered’. Here they were surrounded by armed guards, and found themselves in the sunlight at the feet of steep hills bordering in a circle a wide plain, and in this there stood a city, at the summit of a great hill standing alone.
In the Sketch there is of course no description of the entry; but in the Quenta Noldorinwa (p.131) this is said of the Way of Escape: in the region where the Encircling Mountains were at their lowest the Elves of Gondolin ‘dug a great winding tunnel under the roots of the hills, and its issue was in the steep side, tree-clad and dark, of a gorge through which the blissful river [Sirion] ran.’ It is said in the Quenta (p.137) that when Tuor and Bronwë (Voronwë) came to the hidden door they passed down the tunnel and ‘reached the inner gate’, where they were taken prisoner.
The two ‘gates’ and the tunnel between them were thus present when my father wrote the Quenta Noldorinwa in 1930, and on this conception he based the final version of 1951. This is where the resemblance ends.
But it will be seen that in the final version (LV pp.187 ff.) my father introduced a sharp difference into the topography. The entrance was no longer in the eastern bank of the Sirion; it was from a tributary stream. But the dangerous crossing of the Brithiach they made, being fortified by the appearance of the eagles.
On the far side of the ford they came to a gully, as it were the bed of an old stream, in which no water now flowed; yet once, it seemed, a torrent had cloven its deep channel, coming down from the north out of the mountains of the Echoriath, and bearing thence all the stones of the Brithiach down into Sirion.
‘At last beyond hope we find it!’ cried Voronwë. ‘See! Here is the mouth of the Dry River, and that is the road we must take.’
But the ‘road’ was full of stones and went sharply up, and Tuor expressed to Voronwë his disgust, and his amazement that this wretched track should be the way of entry to the city of Gondolin.
After many miles, and a night spent, in the Dry River it led them to the walls of the Encircling Mountains, and entering by an opening they were brought at length to what they felt to be a great silent space, in which they could see nothing. The sinister reception of Tuor and Voronwë can scarcely be equalled i
n the writings of Middle-earth: the dazzling light turned on Voronwë in the huge darkness, the cold menacing, questioning voice. That dreadful interview over, they were led to another entry, or exit.
In the Quenta Noldorinwa (p.138) Tuor and Voronwë stepped out from the long twisting black tunnel, where they were taken prisoner by the guard, and saw Gondolin ‘shining from afar, flushed with the rose of dawn upon the plain’. Thus the conception at that time was readily described: the wide plain Tumladen wholly encircled by the mountains, the Echoriath, and a tunnel from the outer world running through them. But in the Last Version, when they left the place of their inquisition, Tuor found that they were standing ‘at the end of a ravine, the like of which he had never before beheld or imagined in his thought’. Up this ravine, named the Orfalch Echor, a long road climbed through a succession of huge gates magnificently adorned until the top of the rift was reached at the seventh, the Great Gate. It was only then that Tuor ‘beheld a vision of Gondolin amid the white snow’; and it was there that Ecthelion said of Tuor that it was certain that ‘he comes from Ulmo himself’ – the words with which the last text of The Fall of Gondolin ends.
CONCLUSION
I mentioned (p.23) that the original title of the Tale, Tuor and the Exiles of Gondolin, was followed by the words ‘which bringeth in the Great Tale of Eärendel.’ Further, the ‘Last Tale’ that followed The Fall of Gondolin, was the Tale of the Nauglafring (The Necklace of the Dwarves, on which was set the Silmaril) of which I cited the concluding words in Beren and Lúthien, p.246:
And thus did all the fates of the fairies weave then to one strand, and that strand is the great tale of Eärendel; and to that tale’s true beginning are we now come.
We may suppose that the ‘true beginning’ of the Tale of Eärendel was to follow the words with which the Tale of The Fall of Gondolin ended (p.111):
Yet now those exiles of Gondolin dwelt at the mouth of Sirion by the waves of the Great Sea … and fair among the Lothlim Eärendel grows in the house of his father, and the great tale of Tuor is come to its waning.
But the Lost Tale of Eärendel was never written. There are many notes and outlines from the early period, and several very early poems: but there is nothing remotely corresponding to the Tale of The Fall of Gondolin. To set out and discuss these often contradictory outlines in their clipped phrases would be contrary to the purpose of these two books: the comparative histories of narratives as they evolved. On the other hand, the story of the destruction of Gondolin is very fully told in the original Tale; the history of the survivors is an essential continuation of the history of the Elder Days. I have decided therefore to return to the two early narratives in which the tale of the end of the Elder Days is told: the Sketch of the Mythology and the Quenta Noldorinwa. (As I have remarked elsewhere, ‘It will seem strange indeed that the Quenta Noldorinwa was the only completed text (after the Sketch) that he ever made.’)
For this reason there follows here the conclusion of the Sketch of 1926, following on the words (p.125): ‘The remnant [of the people of Gondolin] reaches Sirion and journeys to the land at its mouth – the Waters of Sirion. Morgoth’s triumph is now complete.’
THE CONCLUSION OF THE SKETCH OF THE MYTHOLOGY
At Sirion’s mouth Elwing daughter of Dior dwelt, and received the survivors of Gondolin. These become a seafaring folk, building many boats and living far out on the delta, whither the Orcs dare not come.
Ylmir [Ulmo] reproaches the Valar, and bids them rescue the remnants of the Noldoli and the Silmarils in which alone now lives the light of the old days of bliss when the Trees were shining.
The sons of the Valar led by Fionwë Tulkas’ son lead forth a host, in which all the Quendi march, but remembering Swanhaven few of the Teleri go with them. Côr is deserted.
Tuor growing old cannot forbear the call of the sea, and builds Eärámë and sails West with Idril and is heard of no more. Eärendel weds Elwing. The call of the sea is born also in him. He builds Wingelot and wishes to sail in search of his father. Here follow the marvellous adventures of Wingelot in the seas and isles, and of how Eärendel slew Ungoliant in the South. He returned home and found the Waters of Sirion desolate. The sons of Fëanor learning of the dwelling of Elwing and the Nauglafring [on which was set the Silmaril of Beren] had come down on the people of Gondolin. In a battle all the sons of Fëanor save Maidros and Maglor were slain, but the last folk of Gondolin were destroyed or forced to go away and join the people of Maidros. Maglor sat and sang by the sea in repentance. Elwing cast the Nauglafring into the sea and leapt after it, but was changed into a white sea-bird by Ylmir, and flew to seek Eärendel, seeking about all the shores of the world.
Their son Elrond who is part mortal and part elven, a child, was saved however by Maidros. When later the Elves return to the West, bound by his mortal half he elects to stay on earth …
Eärendel learning of these things from Bronweg, who dwelt in a hut, a solitary, at the mouth of Sirion, is overcome with sorrow. With Bronweg he sets sail in Wingelot once more in search of Elwing and of Valinor.
He comes to the magic isles, and to the Lonely Isle, and at last to the Bay of Faërie. He climbs the hill of Kôr, and walks in the deserted ways of Tûn, and his raiment becomes encrusted with the dust of diamonds and of jewels. He dares not go further into Valinor. He builds a tower on an isle in the northern seas, to which all the seabirds of the world repair. He sails by the aid of their wings even over the airs in search of Elwing, but is scorched by the Sun and hunted from the sky by the Moon, and for a long while he wanders the sky as a fugitive star.
The march of Fionwë into the North is then told, and of the Terrible or Last Battle. The Balrogs are all destroyed, and the Orcs destroyed or scattered. Morgoth himself makes a last sally with all his dragons; but they are destroyed, all save two which escape, by the sons of the Valar, and Morgoth is overthrown and bound by the chain Angainor, and his iron crown is made into a collar for his neck. The two Silmarils are rescued. The Northern and Western parts of the world are rent and broken in the struggle, and the fashion of their lands altered.
The Gods and Elves release Men from Hithlum, and march through the lands summoning the remnants of the Gnomes and Ilkorins to join them. All do so except the people of Maidros. Maidros prepares to perform his oath, though now at last weighed down by sorrow because of it. He sends to Fionwë reminding him of the oath and begging for the Silmarils. Fionwë replies that he has lost his right to them because of the evil deeds of Fëanor, and of the slaying of Dior, and of the plundering of Sirion. He must submit, and come back to Valinor; in Valinor only and at the judgement of the Gods shall they be handed over …
On the last march Maglor says to Maidros that there are two sons of Fëanor left, and two Silmarils; one is his. He steals it, and flies, but it burns him so that he knows he no longer has a right to it. He wanders in pain over the earth and casts it into a fiery pit. One Silmaril is now in the sea, and one in the earth. Maglor sings now ever in sorrow by the sea.
The judgement of the Gods takes place. The earth is to be for Men, and the Elves who do not set sail for the Lonely Isle or Valinor shall slowly fade and fail. For a while the last dragons and Orcs shall grieve the earth, but in the end all shall perish by the valour of Men.
Morgoth is thrust through the Door of Night into the outer dark beyond the Walls of the World, and a guard set for ever on that Door. The lies that he sowed in the hearts of Men and Elves do not die and cannot all be slain by the Gods, but live on and bring much evil even to this day. Some say also that secretly Morgoth or his black shadow and spirit in spite of the Valar creeps back over the Walls of the World in the North and East and visits the world, others that this is Thû his great chief who escaped the Last Battle and dwells still in dark places, and perverts Men to his dreadful worship. When the world is much older, and the Gods weary, Morgoth will come back through the Door, and the last battle of all will be fought. Fionwë will fight Morgoth on the plain of Valinor,
and the spirit of Túrin shall be beside him; it shall be Túrin who with his black sword will slay Morgoth, and thus the children of Húrin shall be avenged.
In those days the Silmarils shall be recovered from sea and earth and air, and Maidros shall break them and Palúrien with their fire rekindle the Two Trees, and the great light shall come forth again, and the Mountains of Valinor shall be levelled so that it goes out over the world, and Gods and Elves shall grow young again, and all their dead awake. But of Men in that Day the prophecy speaks not.
And thus it was that the last Silmaril came into the air. The Gods adjudged the last Silmaril to Eärendel – ‘until many things shall come to pass’ – because of the deeds of the sons of Fëanor. Maidros is sent to Eärendel and with the aid of the Silmaril Elwing is found and restored. Eärendel’s boat is drawn over Valinor to the Outer Seas, and Eärendel launches it into the outer darkness high above Sun and Moon. There he sails with the Silmaril upon his brow and Elwing at his side, the brightest of all stars, keeping watch upon Morgoth and the Door of Night. So he shall sail until he sees the last battle gathering upon the plains of Valinor. Then he will descend.
And this is the last end of the tales of the days before the days, in the Northern regions of the Western world.
The Fall of Gondolin Page 19
