Melkor: Null and Void by Chilled in Hithlum

It is well known amongst the Eldar that all inspiration and words unthought-of, enter in from the back of the head; although, this it seems was forgotten by Morgoth to whom which this sensation appeared as something astounding and new. Perhaps this condition applies not to the Valar at all; for indeed, do not the Powers of the World function on many different levels, and those other to that of the Children? Morgoth, however, is no longer counted among the Valar for he became improvident of his being and fell into darkness, a thing perverted and transformed; and none now that dwell within the Circles of Arda, including the Great Ones, truly knows the extent of his heart, save Eru alone. Now, what follows comes down from the declaration of many people: Elf, Dwarf and Man; warrior, slave and free; and not least by the testimony of mighty Tulkas. Much of what is stated regarding the Dark Lord’s own experience was recorded from the seemingly illogical mutterings of Melkor-Morgoth himself as he was carried away as a captive from his ruined stronghold to face the judgement of his kindred.

The War of Wrath, reaching a shattering conclusion on Beleriand-marred, thundered loud in the bottommost grots of once mighty Angband: where far beneath in the darkest pit, shrank the greatest and most terrible tyrant ever to issue his fell shadow upon the good earth. Melkor was he, the Morgoth, whom it was that arose in might against his maker and brethren; once intangible in form, now belittled in the flesh and trapped in a Crown of Iron stuck fast on a swollen head. The Dark Lord’s once unassailable armies were vanquished, slain and fled; or swallowed up in the destruction like so many valiant ones that opposed him. Finally, in the blackest darkness, he understood that his final strategy had failed. All about him the cavernous foundations of his own design violently crumbled and shook, smiting his titanic frame with the very rock that he had delved, long ago in the days of his power. The ‘Old Power’ had long since betrayed him because of ill use, and even such other energy as he could steal became disloyal: even his prize jewels ailing in captivity, gave him up in the dark and shone all the brighter upon his brow so as to reveal him whithersoever he would hide amid the wreckage.

Bereft, Melkor anticipated the inevitable; hearkening to every new sound but fearing only one, the dragging of Angainor, the Chain of Valinor; wrought in ages past in the Smithies of Aulë, but borne triumphantly by Tulkas, the champion of his foes. He long remembered his unbreakable bondage behind its links the previous time he succumbed to the harshness of its bite. Presently an unanticipated clank overhead drew riotously across his inner core, striking deep horror within him; throughout the subterranean complex the clamour of scrawped iron against rock echoed long and loud. He immediately turned blindly to flight, stumbling over his halting foot, and falling he span awkwardly landing flat on his back; he immediately lost consciousness upon hammering his head on a fallen boulder. At length his yellowed eyes flickered open, and for a brief moment there was blissful numbness, before the onslaught; searing white pain split across the back of his skull, met on either side by a deafening drone of metallic ringing invading each ear. He bodily creased up and thrashed about momentarily, unable to prevent himself from whimpering in the realisation of his anguish; but slowly and sporadically as his throes subsided, Melkor checked himself for any lasting damage, finding none; not even any loss of blood. The only thing amiss was that the iron band circling his aching head had slightly dislodged but still firmly held. Truly the crown had saved his life, but he held himself accursed and only too aware that this misadventure had not spared him from his doom; however not everything proved an evil, for soon thereafter came the internal onrush of giddy-blood, causing him to disregard the pain. Thus Melkor began to slide witless from his accustomed intellect into a state unknown; surely the prospect of such a thing would be absurd at any other time, but here on the brink of calamity he was neither able to defy it nor willing to try.

The intense whiteness that so pervaded his agony still shone brightly, but fluffier now and as light as the ethers; on a newly formed cloud he drifted, and revelling in the warmth of the Sun he was not afraid! At length, but in no time at all, there came loudly-faint from afar, a sound that fully engulfed him; the strains of which though long forgotten he instantly knew and yearned for. His way toward the source of the sound was immediately barred by great pillars swiftly rising all about him; with no hope of admittance he stood outside the Timeless Halls, on the very edge of Time! There without, Melkor heard therein the Great Themes of the Ainulindalë, and since he was placed apart, voiceless and unable to mar the Music with his discord: he listened. The Song gave him power according to his kind, but the power was not his and he was unable to maintain it; nor as his desire dictated was he able to steal it by perversion. However, as this was in the Time before Time, he saw before him the vision of Arda that had just been sung, and he saw that it was good! He saw what Ëa could have been without his meddling; a garden of bliss carefully tended for the Children of Ilúvatar, but Melkor knew that this was not the World that Is!

In his naked thought Melkor laughed to himself at the destruction that he alone had caused, and immediately his mind was revealed: in that moment he stood shamefaced and afraid as the One said unto him, “See now Melkor, the proof of that which I hath told you! See plainly the works of thy brethren and know their secrets; see illuminated by the Flame Imperishable their colours unsullied, and see also how those tiny trinkets that you hold in tribute to its glory reflect only its light. Go now, Melkor; go and await thy brother’s judgement!”

Melkor stirred amid dead silence and a deep chill, his whole left side was pitted with gravel whilst his arm flopped useless and uncomfortably numb. He feared to open his eyes and look again into that darkness, taking momentary solace in the pallid penetration that the Silmarils provided through his closed eyelids; involuntary, drowsily, his eyes slithered open to a sharp precise nothingness, and Melkor arose again from whence he had fallen. He flicked away the gravel and shook off his numbness realising now that he was free of any former pain; in truth he felt limber again, tall and young again, and he merrily laughed: in the face of his utter defeat and total humiliation, he actually properly laughed! He would have skipped but he remembered his disability and refrained lest he take another tumble: “Although?” he mused aloud. All at once any trace of mirth departed as soon as it arrived, for amid the stark absence of any other sound he recognised his own voice, and in that lonesome futility he frowned; his scars wrinkled, snagging in the furrows some grit lodged there still, and snarling he jerked his head in habitual discontent.

“Phantoms,” he said, “Phantoms sent to torment me during my last hours, sent to instil doubt; there is no Flame, THERE WAS NO FLAME! Eru you old deceiver, you knew my power and you feared it; you knew that I, the Elder King and Master of the Fates of Arda, would expend my strength in seeking this thing immaterial whilst you supplanted me with my weaker brother. Did you think now by showing me ‘Your Vision of Paradise’ that I would crumble at your feet begging to be let in? Is that all it would take? Then you are the fool not I!”

“I, Me, My, that is how it goes: the sound of the Brat’s Trumpet blows!”

“Who said that?”

“Louder than all the rest: in desperation to be the best!”

“Who is there?”

“Compete, defeat and eat: deplete, deplete, deplete…”

“Stop!”

“Too powerful, too cruel: ‘tis only thou who art the fool!”

“Stop, I command it!”

“Very well, then I will go: if thou art sure thou wish it so?”

Melkor’s eyes darted frantically, “Wait, who are you: Tulkas have you come?”

“Not Tulkas, not yet: he will come, do not fret!”

“Then who, Eru?”

“What a delightful rhyme: what a delightful time…”

“Manwë, show yourself!”

“Oh my love, there is naught to fear: for indeed, there is nobody here… Ha, ha, ha…”

“What mockery is this? Stop laughing!”

“Ha, ha, ha… Ha, ha, ha…”

“Get thee gone, I tell thee be gone!”

Melkor braced himself for another volley of laughter but no reply, “Then it is as I said: Phantoms!”

Melkor sat long in silence: no walls shook, no sounds of battle nor screams of anguish; no Orcs beating on slaves and no industry; no crashes, bangs nor thumps. Only silence… that, and unjust thought: Even now he contrived favourable outcomes to possible scenarios that might play out; if this happens a stab there, or maybe I can grasp a throat to rend, and so on. Oftentimes a new prospect would break his train of thought and he would sift it for plausibility, losing his place and having to begin again from the start; for indeed having naught else to do he began the reckoning of his years and the sum of his deeds. It is difficult to tell how and why he achieved this since he left behind no markings on parchment nor impression in rock; and all that is known of this is in the testimony of those who found him at last lost deep within his own thought and misshapen counsel.

“Catatonic, you say?” enquires Varda in after days at the Máhanaxar.

“Yea, My Queen, I could have pushed him over with one finger, I am sure,” replies Tulkas, “For as I met him in the pit I called out, insisting that he stand and face me, and stand he did; ‘Peace!’ said he, and also ‘Pardon!’ but there was naught in his voice; no fear, no guile, nothing! It seemed that he stood up through blind obedience as one entranced; he remained thus all along; save only for certain absurd gibbering. I admit this was somewhat perturbing… “

“Of all my kindred,” laughs Oromë, “You are the least one I should have expected to utter this…”

Manwë calmly overrides the interruption, “Thank You, Oromë!”

“Great was the company beside me in that hour, including all peoples of all rank…” continues Tulkas, “The greater number of them came from within the walls of Angband itself, being themselves wretches and slaves such as we released; and Aye, each one of us, to the very last, were eager to see the end of the Morgoth! Speaking for myself, I hoped to challenge Melkor as an equal: not to take him in the manner which I found him…”

“Did you pity him?” asks Manwë.

“Nay, Lord, I felt disappointment for myself!”

Manwë nods: not only in assent of Tulkas response but in gesture to go on speaking…

“When Melkor took to murmuring, those present naturally took this as him laying down a curse; they charged at him as an unstoppable whole and hewn his feet from under him, felling him like a mighty tree. They would have continued to do much worse, such have been his crimes against them, but I bade them cease in the name of Manwë the Judge; in no small part, this I did to assuage their bloodlust. Acting out of prudence, Eönwë, removed the Silmarils at this time. Now, it is strange to me that never once did he call out in pain, not even when I cauterised his leg stumps or bound him with Angainor. Subsequently I brought him hither and delivered him to Mandos!”

“Is it true, Námo, that he remains yet in this state?” says Manwë

“It is so!” replies the Lord of Mandos.

“Devilry, slay him now and be done!” shouts Oromë, with many others in accord.

“And where would you have this Kinslaying done, in the very streets of Valmar?” retorts Manwë, “Nay, I will not sanction such a thing on these shores; and certainly not until I have heard more!”

“If not here, Lord; then where?” asks Oromë.

Varda speaks, “Kinslaying sayest Manwë in truth, for although we count not Melkor among our number that is not so with Eru; are they not brothers in the mind of Ilúvatar, and whom amongst all the Children of his thought from the highest to the low could make a judgement against his brethren so hastily? The King will hear more!”

The council sit long in silence exchanging no thought, until at last Tulkas speaks again: “I am not learned in the tomes like so many here present,” he begins, “but it is my delight to hear the tales of old ere I descended into Arda, which Nessa has told to me many times over and I know almost by rote. I mention this now for during my recent days of burden, hauling Melkor’s bulk from Middle-earth, I heard much in variance to that I which already know regarding the Beginning of Days! There were utterances of great battles for control of the skies long before the Sun and Moon; ‘Backwards it is, afore the Trees and the Lamps the great lights shone’ Melkor said. He named himself Midwife to the Premature Second Born and Corrupter of their Fates; ‘It is their lot to spurn the greatest gifts, even those given for their greatest deeds.’ There were other things beside that I do not comprehend,” said Tulkas, “for example, Melkor alleged that he welcomed the Chain then and now: this I do not believe for a moment, I saw the terror in his eyes in ages past when Utumno was undone; and even now the craven hid himself as deep as he could delve.”

“He is transforming his legend!” says Aulë.

“To what end?” supposes Manwë.

“To OUR end!” replies Mandos.

“How so?” Manwë asks.

“Melkor is most crooked but very clever,” says Mandos, “as his last act he is trying to bring about an alternate history in which no doubt he shall be the victor and we the vanquished. I fear in part that he has been successful; he must be dispatched of immediately lest he do more harm!”

“Then do it,” demands Manwë, “cast him through the Door of Night, send him beyond the Walls of the World into the Timeless Void!”

As Manwë had commanded so it was done: but there were many in Valinor who for the first time doubted the judgement of the Elder King, deeming it better that Melkor be slain outright so that the seeds of his malice die with him. Truly, it was seen in after days that much of what was spoken about in contradiction here did come to pass, and indeed evil survived; but who amongst any of the Children can lay the blame for their misdeeds at the door of one who wavers in the face of evil, comprehending it not, or otherwise upon the instigator whom he gleefully follows?