Before the Great Music: An Account Before the Ainulindale by Alcarin

Chapter 1 The Lure of the Void

In this story, Melkor is depicted in his early beginnings, and his desires and motivations are explored. Space and time are immaterial here, for the story is set beyond the confines of Ea, long before the Count of Time began.

DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters or places. All these belong to Tolkien. I am merely taking delight in the things Tolkien had left for us to explore.

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THE LURE OF THE VOID

Melkor looked forth from the boundaries of the Timeless Halls to the utter darkness beyond it, out into the eternal night that surrounds their blessed abode. The Void, it is called. An endless expanse of nothingness, bereft of all meaning and existence. He strained his thoughts to it, hoping to perceive, perhaps, the glint of things unknown to his brethren.

It was both a beautiful and frightening sight. It was a place none of the Ainur had seen before, let alone entered. For in their joy and contentment they had paid no heed to it. All save him. And whereas before he knew only Light, now he also perceived something that is not of it: Darkness. And the Darkness fascinated him as much as he desired the radiant power of the Light.

And he remembered the words Eru had spoken to him: “Infinite are these Halls, for the Abyss is depthless, and the Firmament is beyond the reach of our thoughts. Yet infinite as well is the Void about us. For it has no Being yet, and it is empty still. Empty, yes, but not without purpose.”

And Melkor pondered these words. He wondered as to how something can be so empty yet be given purpose. And he remembered the Flame Imperishable. Could it be that it is in the Void? Eru has not revealed where it ultimately resides, and he thought, perhaps, that it is has been taken into the deepest recesses of the Void, hidden beyond the reach of the Ainur. These thoughts now troubled him, for his desire to create Being out of Nothing had grown exceedingly great. And it troubled him that Eru had not revealed to them the true nature of the Flame Imperishable, nor had taken interest in the glaring emptiness of the Void.

But now, as he was deep in thought, Melkor suddenly heard the thoughts of the other Ainur who had gathered near him. He felt disdained by them, as he regarded the reach of their understanding as less than of his. It was then that Melkor recognized the thought of Manwe his brother. Manwe was his brethren in the mind of Eru, but Melkor came first before all the others.

Yet it seemed to him that Eru held Manwe dearer to his heart than himself, and he deeply resented this. Melkor knew, even from the beginning, that among all his kindred, he alone had been given by Eru the greatest measure of power and knowledge, and that he alone had a part in all the powers and gifts of his brethren. But despite this, it appeared that Eru took this little into account, preferring instead to take delight in instructing Manwe and Ulmo in the art Music. And so discontent was kindled in him. But he kept this hidden, lest this become manifest to his peers.

But now Melkor saw Manwe approach him. Unspeaking, he gazed back into the Void. He sensed Manwe manifest beside him. And they both looked into the Void. The seemingly white mists that marked the edge of the Timeless Halls slowly faded into a deep shade of gray, until it blended into the unforgiving blackness beyond. The mists before them moved about, constantly shifting and turning as if they were driven by some invisible hand. But the darkness of the void remained immutable.

They stood there for a long while, silent, deep in thought.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Melkor finally broke the silence.

Manwe did not speak for a while, and then said, “Perhaps, but it is empty there, and dark.”

Then Melkor replied. “And that is why it is beautiful. For it is empty and dark.”

Then Manwe looked at him, perplexed by his brother’s strange assumptions. “These halls that Eru made for us is the greatest expression of beauty, for here we see the wonder of his thoughts, being made manifest with substance. How can such an emptiness be as beautiful as what we have here?”

Melkor spoke again, and this time, there was pride in his voice, and he sounded as if he were expounding on knowledge only he himself knew. “Emptiness does not define the opposite of everything that we lovest here. The Void is merely empty, and nothing else. Yet its emptiness can be filled to overflowing, and become as yet an abode of beauty and glory such as what we have here. Nay, perhaps even greater.”

Then Manwe said to him, “Eru creates everything with purpose, no matter how dumb and unusable it may seem. But some things are better left to his wisdom than to our own, for we do not know anything beyond what he has revealed to us.”

Melkor looked at his brother. He sensed Manwe’s trepidation of his perception of things, and Melkor spoke again. “Did not Eru create these Halls for us? If so, then he as well must have created this darkness about us. Eru, you say, has purpose in everything? If so, then it is only right that we explore and understand this darkness about us. Here we dwell in contentment of the Light, and yet pay no heed to the Darkness beyond. If we are to attain true understanding, we should learn about this Void, and change it, if that may be, so as to better suit our desires and purposes.

Manwe dwelt on this for a while, and said, “It may be true, but we cannot define the intentions of Eru based solely on our assumptions of his designs. For before our beginning, we know nothing.”

“True enough, but some things can still be discovered without the aid of Eru.”

Then Melkor sensed the thoughts of Ulmo and Aule. He looked to the others who were gathered at a great distance, and he sensed their thoughts as they beckoned Manwe to join them. He looked back at his brother.

“They must be calling to you again, Manwe. Have you thought now of new things with which to further the beauty of this place?” He asked him, ever so sweetly. Yet underneath his voice could be gleaned the slightest tinge of scorn, for even now Melkor had already begun to harbor envy and disdain towards the other Ainur, most of all to Manwe. But Manwe perceived this not.

Manwe looked at him in the eye and said: “Melkor, I know not what your heart desires in seeking to understand this Darkness. But whatever it may be, Melkor, it is best that we stay under the guidance of Eru, for he has no purpose other than the good of all things.”

“So you say,” Melkor retorted darkly.

Then Manwe left him as he joined the presence of the other Ainur. Once again they continued to make music in their minds, for the Ainur, even from their beginning, were wont to express their deepest thoughts and desires into Song.

Melkor gazed at them for a while, and he smiled. “Great are they among our kindred,” he thought to himself. “But they will soon learn that I am still Melkor.”

And he returned his thoughts once more into the nothingness that spread before him. So near it seemed to his vision, yet knew full well that from where he stood up to the threshold of the Timeless Halls lies a near immeasurable stretch of space, incalculable beyond thought. But that did not daunt him, for space and time do not matter to the Ainur. They are beyond those things. He is beyond those things.

And as he gazed into the consummate darkness before him, he smiled once more. But what his thoughts were at that moment, only he could tell.

 

 

 

Chapter 2 Down Into the Void

Melkor treads the eternal nothingness of the Void, and discovers an irrefutable truth.

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DOWN INTO THE VOID

He drifted into the sea of darkness about him. He knew not how long he had wandered, only that it was long. Long beyond reckoning. But not forever, as he could never hope to endure an eternity of this. For now, he was no longer looking at the Void, but was in the Void itself. And the deeper he tread it, the more he sensed there is no end to it.

Then suddenly, as one abruptly awakened from deep slumber, Melkor halted, and held fast where he was. He closed his eyes. He noticed not the difference, for in the Void it mattered not whether one’s eyes were open or shut, as all sight becomes blind within its enclosing darkness. But he opened his mind. And he strained his thoughts over his surroundings, hoping perhaps to overreach the edge of this nothingness. He stretched his thoughts and awareness farther out into the Void, hoping beyond hope to find the final resting place of the Flame Imperishable, or, at the very least, an end to this infinite waste.

But there was nothing.

No light, no sound, no end. Only nothing.

And beyond this was an even greater expanse of the same nothingness.

He opened his eyes, and turned now his thoughts into the direction of where he had last left the Timeless Halls. But he could no longer see or sense it, not even the thoughts of his peers. There was no sound save for the silence of the darkness.

It was then in this utter solitude that Melkor realized a new thing: He was alone. He was now, in every sense of the word, truly alone.

For through ages uncounted he had dwelt with beings of similar powers and nature in the Timeless Halls. And though in those days, he had already chosen to often dwell apart from his peers, he at the least could sense the company of his brethren, though very little love he bore for them.

But now, he was utterly alone.

In his mind, he knew that they existed, and that there in the Halls of Eru, they were blissful and joyful and content. Yet here, there was only himself –– and the void about him.

Then slowly, like the Night of the Void, he felt disappointment creep like a shadow in his heart. For his hope to see the fulfillment of his long held desire, to create Being out of Nothing, seemed now ever more wasted and in vain. For in his pride and desire for greater power and ascendancy over his peers, he had begun to covet the power of his Creator. And in his impatience, he had conjured thoughts unlike those of his fellows, believing ever that the Flame Imperishable is a power that can be found, held, and wielded at will. And in his fascination with the Void, he had thought it to be the ultimate repository of the Secret Fire, thinking ever that Eru had begrudged him that power.

now, looking out into the endless expanse of nothingness before him, Melkor at long last had come to realize the limits of his own power, and in this measureless sea of darkness he felt ever more diminished, for he had now come to understand that the Void is an emptiness beyond the power of any being to ever completely fill, lest it be Eru himself.

But he, Melkor, was not Eru.

And knowing this threw him into an ever greater feeling of unrest, for now he realized that here, he could never hope to find the Flame Imperishable, or, if it indeed be hidden by Eru in the farthest reaches of the Void, then he could never discover it, for the Void is Darkness made Infinite.

Seeing as now all his hopes and desires utterly quenched, his disappointment now turned into a deep frustration.

And so, like the Discord in the Great Music which will soon come to pass through him, and like the poison of lies and hate he had sown among the Children of Iluvatar, the seeds of hatred and malice had now been sown in the Dark. Into the very heart of Melkor.

 

 

Chapter 3 Melkor's Bait

Melkor attempts to draw other lesser Ainur into his fold, most notably Ungwelian, she who among the Children of Iluvatar would later become known as Ungoliant, the Spider of Night.

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MELKOR'S BAIT

 

 

 

It now came to pass that in the Halls of Eru, many of the Ainur have begun to gather in great numbers. For though through long ages, most of the Ainur had opted to sing alone or in small groups, being as yet not learned in the art of blending their thoughts into Song, they have now, slowly but surely, begun to take interest in the thoughts of their brethren. For by listening to the thoughts of their peers, they discovered many wondrous things, which otherwise would not have been brought into being had they merely sung alone. And the beauty of the things created from their blended thoughts brought them ever greater delight, realizing more deeply and clearly now the wonders of the gifts Eru had bequeathed to them.

Then Melkor saw all that was done, and he grew then the more envious within. For in his quest to find the Secret Fire he had wandered too long in the void places, and in his absence, many of the Ainur had come to appreciate the powers and thoughts of their peers.

And seeing this filled him all the more with scorn. But Manwe he envied the most, for he saw that many had flocked to his side, being filled with great wonder over his many devising. And this was because among all the Ainur, Manwe was held dearest to Eru, being able to understand most clearly his designs and purposes. And to see and hear those wondrous things come from the mind of Manwe made the other Ainur feel as though they came from Eru himself, and they were astounded and amazed.

But now Melkor grew desirous of their good graces, as he too yearned to be marveled at, and to be held mightiest. For in his pride over his own might, he had shunned the company of others, counting them of little worth. But now he realized his folly, and he desired now to be like Manwe and the others. Yet despite this, great contempt he still held for them, for he viewed them as usurpers over his claim to preeminence. And in the depths of his heart, he desired rather to have them serve him, and to do his every bidding, that he may all the more become glorified.

So it was that Melkor now began to preach of new knowledge, claiming to know things only he had seen. Very fine and subtle were his words at first that initially only few Ainur paid heed. But he had patience, and cunning, so that in no great time, many Ainur were drawn to his revelations. And so it was that even as Melkor had begun speaking of this new knowledge did he notice that already there were many Ainur about him, for even those who were initially with Manwe and Ulmo had come.

And seeing at last that many had now gathered before him, Melkor stood on a high place, and with a great voice he said: “Behold the great things you have accomplished here! For I see that you are all enamoured of the handiwork of your imagining, to which they most certainly are. Yet many things you do not know. For so great and astounding are these things I have discovered that they must be made known, for would it not be selfish on my account to keep this in my despite?”

Thus did Melkor for the first time speak of the Void, and the Ainur were astounded to hear this, for none of them had seen or heard of it as yet. But seeing that many heeded him, he began to speak more openly. And still more he revealed, and he spoke now of an all-pervading Darkness around them, and he spoke of its endlessness, claiming it to be an Unbeing so deep and immeasurable that not even the Light of their blessed abode could penetrate it.

And with these words, many of the Ainur were indeed astonished, and they conversed among themselves, seeking to understand the meaning of this new thing. But because many of the Ainur at that time could not yet fully comprehend the weight of Melkor’s words, many of them soon departed, and went whither they would. And many resumed with the Music they had last made with their fellows before Melkor had spoken.

But a great deal still remained, and among them many felt impelled to learn more from him. However, because of his splendour and the majesty with which he carried himself, they retracted from their previous intent, and they departed like the others, though the thought of the Void remained in their hearts. But some there were who were greatly stirred by the portent of his words, for indeed Melkor was most skillful in the art of persuasion.

So it was that no sooner had he spoken did Ungwelian came to him. Ungwelian alone among the Ainur had felt unsatisfied with the Light of the Timeless Halls, and she was in a state of unrest, and she said: “Mighty words you have spoken, Melkor, as indeed you verily are. But I wonder if this Void you speak of can cure my ailment.”

Then Melkor turned to her and said: “And what is this ailment you speak of?”

Ungwelian looked about her furtively, as though afraid her words would be heard by others. Then turning to him again, she answered, “So much light abounds here, yet still I find myself in discontent.”

And Melkor laughed. “Would you then rather take for yourself the light of the others?” he said, subtly turning his eyes to the direction of the other Ainur that were gathered nearby.

“Nay, that cannot be! For being living beings as I am, their light is not something I can simply claim for myself,” said Ungwelian. “Yet you spoke of the Void, saying that its Darkness has some power not found in the Light. Is that true?”

And boring into her eyes, Melkor said: “Yes. Long have I explored the deep regions of the Void, for how else can I claim it to be true if I had not seen it myself?” But then swiftly he added, “Yet what it has to offer you, only you can tell.”

However, Ungwelian understood not what he said. Then Melkor perceived that she had little understanding of the things about her, save only for those that have use for her own needs, and he scorned her for her primitive thinking. But he showed this not, seeing she might as yet succeed where he had failed. And he laughed in his heart.

Therefore Melkor said to her: “The light we see here is merely the result of the power that issues from our very Being. But in the Void, the darkness there issues from nothing, for it is Nothing.” And indeed here, Melkor did tell the truth, for though he had now begun to harbor thoughts and motives different from those of his fellows, he was as yet incapable of lying. Not yet.

But Ungwelian remained unconvinced, and she said, “Yet you said it was endless, more so than the Light?”

“True. But you cannot hope to comprehend its power merely through my words,” said Melkor. “To understand the Void, one has to be in the Void.”

Then upon hearing of the Void’s endlessness, she grew the more impatient, and she asked him: “Can the Void assuage my discontent?”

Then Melkor looked at her, and gazing into her heart he perceived the fire of her desires. Long he looked at her in silence. At last, he said: “Come with me. I will show you the Void.”

And so did Melkor and Ungwelian pass through the limitless stretch of the Timeless Halls, for their abode was indeed limitless, vast beyond the reckoning of Men or Elves, with the realm of Ea being but a speck against its immeasurable halls. Yet still they were Ainur, mightiest among the creatures of Eru, and by the power that resides in them, even the seemingly immeasurable they can traverse.

And now, hurtling through the ever changing mists of the Timeless Halls, they looked up and beheld the Firmament, the roofless clouds swirling upward before its light-filled sky. But looking down into the far distance they beheld the Abyss, its white mists coiling precariously along its edges before finally plunging into the cavernous chasm beyond, down into its bottomless depths.

And still across the incalculable distances they journeyed together, until at last they reached the threshold of the Timeless Halls. Seeing it now they swiftly descended, and, espying a high place, they alighted on it.

They strained their thoughts about them, but no thought or song they heard, for they were alone.

Together now they looked out, and beheld that the white mists before them sloped downwards into a vast field of white clouds. And the light pierced the clouds outward from many sides, so that it appeared as though they were illuminated from within. But as they gazed further across this lighted field, they noticed the light grow steadily dimmer, the shining clouds fading woefully into a deeper shade of gray as their vision focused ever more distantly.

And so it was that at last their vision rested on the unforgiving blackness beyond, out into the Everlasting Darkness.

“Behold the Void!” said Melkor.

Dark stretched the Void before them, its looming darkness appearing to encroach on the lighted fringes of the Timeless Halls.

And indeed Ungwelian was filled with awe, for never before had she seen anything so vast and forbidding. But now, seeing with her own eyes the truth of Melkor's words, she was instantly filled with fear, even being the Ainu that she was. For the Void was indeed frightening, having indeed the power to cow even the very will.

But Melkor said to her: “There, I believe, you will find your answers, and the cure to your discontent.”

Yet Ungwelian remained fearful, and she would not stir from where she stood, though her eyes remained fixed on the black emptiness before her. “Nay! Now that I have seen the Void, I would not enter it, nor see it again,” she said, for she felt that her entry into the Void would be the portent of her doom.

Then Melkor laughed aloud, and this time he did not hide his contempt, and he said to her: “Then all would have been in vain, for this journey was made chiefly on your account. No use I have for the Void, for already I have seen it. But you, I believe, have greater need of it than I do.”

Then Melkor sensed her hesitation, and thereupon he now pinned his hopes on her, for indeed that was the true reason he had been all too willing to show her the Void; for he hoped that in her dire need to assuage her discontent over the Light, she would enter the Void of her own free will. And though he knew from the very beginning that the darkness of the Void would not assuage her discontent, he hoped rather she will have the greater patience to endure its vast emptiness, being driven by the fire of need, and thereupon by good fortune finally discover the ultimate resting place of the Flame Imperishable. And he, aware of her primitive thinking, counted on her returning and asking him of what she had discovered, thereby leading him at last to claim the Flame Imperishable for himself.

But now, seeing that Ungwelian held back, he saw his plans teeter to outright ruin, and for that he disliked her all the more. Yet his contempt he held in check, and he refrained from deriding her any further, lest she flee from where she stood, and so foil his designs. Realizing that in her current state cowing would not succeed, he now turned to cunning.

And Melkor changed his demeanor, he whispered to her: “If you do not wish to enter, then that is yours to decide. But, seeing as the other Ainur will not lend or give you their light of their own free will, then I see no way of allaying your discontent should you choose to remain in the Light.”

And with these final words, Ungwelian was suddenly roused from fear, as the driving need to allay her internal affliction rose like a fire in her heart, allowing her to overcome her initial fear of the Void. And Ungwelian said, “Nay, I will find no peace here.”

Then Melkor, seeing that he was on the verge of accomplishing his goals, and yet still held back by her recurring fears, said to her: “So, will you enter the Void?”

But Ungwelian did not answer, being once more held fast by the darkness before her.

But Melkor smiled, and indeed he had great reason to do so, for looking at Ungwelian with eyes that burned through her confounding cloak, he saw her fear vanish like a dust in the billowing wind, being replaced instead by a fierceness that could only be fueled by lust, and want, and desire.

And seeing this, Melkor at last saw the answer to his question. Much to his heart’s content.

 

 

Chapter 4 Varda's Choice

Melkor first encounters Varda, that great Ainu whom the Elves call Tintallë, the Star-kindler, and his desires and perceptions of her are revealed.

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VARDA'S CHOICE

 

 

Standing alone atop a high place, Melkor looked down upon the lighted plains of the Timeless Halls, and beheld in envy the growing unity of the Ainur. And he sensed their powers and their thoughts come together as they made ever more wondrous music; and the beauty of their blended voices filled the places of the dwelling of Iluvatar with ever greater beauty and wonder.

But in the far distance Melkor saw Ulmo, that great Ainu whom Eru instructed most in the art of Music, and he gazed at him as Ulmo showed the other Ainur the thoughts of his own conjuring, and they in their joy enjoined his music with theirs, and the creation made by their woven thoughts filled them with boundless joy and delight, and ever they made more astounding Music. 

And seeing all this, Melkor grew all the more envious, for he could not suffer to hear and see such remarkable things manifest themselves from thoughts other than his. And he shut his thoughts from them, imposing a wall of silence between him and the other Ainur, a silence of which only he can hear.

But he strained his thoughts to them, as he now earnestly searched for Ungwelian, hoping perhaps to sense a hint of her thoughts. But he found her not; and he wondered what had become of her. For ever since Ungwelian had departed for the Void, no sign or thought had he felt from her, and for too long now he had pondered of her fate. Could it be that she had gotten lost in the Void? And this he now feared the most, not out of genuine concern, for never had he felt such a thing to any of his kin, let alone to one such as her, whom he utterly despised. In fact, it troubled him not if indeed she had gotten lost in the unfathomed wastes of the Void. Rather, Melkor feared that by some strange chance Ungwelian had already stumbled upon the Flame Imperishable, but that because she understood nothing of it (he from the start never having revealed to her his true intent in drawing her out into the Void), had opted instead to ignore it. And, being driven by the intense desire to allay her discontent over the Light, had chosen thus to remain in the Void, never to return.

This now troubled him greatly. And his impatience over the uncertainty of his designs made the voices of the other Ainur seem like a clamorous play of countless uncoordinated instruments; and he saw no beauty in their work, lest perhaps the same thoughts had come from him. For now he saw beauty only from his own narrow perspective, and all else outside of it he deemed unlovely.

But even as Melkor sought to shut out the thoughts of the others, he sensed another thought come behind him. And he turned now to look upon the owner of this new and unwelcome thought, and saw that it was none other than Varda herself. Varda it was among the Ainur who had taken the greatest interest in furthering the beauty of the Light in the Timeless Halls, and she it was who was deemed to be the fairest in all their kindred. And indeed she was beautiful, for even to an Ainu such as him, words failed to define her resplendent beauty. For in her face he saw a trace of that all-encompassing light that could only be gleaned from the eye of Iluvatar, and hers was less glorious only in so far as it did not come from Eru himself.

Yet in all the countless ages they had dwelt together in the Timeless Halls, never had he spoken to her in person. Rather, he had contented himself by looking at her from afar, for he both desired and feared her presence. But in spite of this, he was ill-composed towards her, for he sensed that despite the cloak he had veiled over himself, he felt that her thoughts could still pierce through him, right into his most guarded secrets. And before her radiant eyes, he felt himself naked and bare.

But now Varda said to him: “I see you have chosen to dwell alone, as you always have.”

But Melkor did not answer. And Varda, seeing that he watched the other Ainur as they took delight in the midst of their creative harmony, said to him: “Such beauty made from their woven thoughts, and yet still, so much more is possible. Do you not see the wonder of the gifts Eru had bequeathed to us?”

“Yes, clearly that I can see,” Melkor replied coldly.

Then Varda asked him: “Will you not join with the others?”

And Melkor, being filled with pride, answered her. “Nay. I have my own thoughts to matter, and to me that is more than enough.” Then, turning to face her, he said: “But I wonder what brought you thus, here in these lonely places. Should you not rather be concerning yourself in furthering the light of this place?” And beneath his voice was a touch of sneer, to which he hardly concealed.

But Varda heeded this not, and she said: “I see that you deem yourself mighty, as you most verily are. But some things, Melkor, can only be accomplished by the blending of one's thoughts with another. For even had Eru made you many times greater than you are now, still you would not be able to accomplish such things, lest you join with the others.”

But to this, Melkor only laughed. “And I see as well that you wish my power to be made more useful by weaving them with the rest,” he said. “But this I say to you, Varda: some things there are as well that can only be accomplished had one worked alone, for there are thoughts that can only be brought into being to their utmost glory had they not been touched by the thoughts of another.”

To this Varda gave no reply, but Melkor perceived that in spite of his retort, there was truth in her words, and he was forced to rethink his frame of mind. And so it was that even as he struggled with his own perceptions, a new thought came to him. For her saw that Varda was indeed mighty among his kindred, and that she might as yet prove useful in his designs. And he pondered the thought of having her beside him, standing mighty above the rest. And he sought now to draw her into his fold.

So Melkor said to her, “But you, Varda, have sought more than any of us to further the beauty of this place. Such a waste it would be if your thoughts were to be simply woven with the others. For though they are Ainu like us, they possess not the power to bring into being the devices we have conjured in our minds, for they are but the lesser among us.”

And Melkor came closer to her, and when he was near enough, he said, “Yet I see that you have so much beauty to bring forth into being. And thus, would it not be better if the devising of your thoughts were to be woven with mine?” And so did Melkor, in his desire to draw unto himself another of the Great, had thus negated his own retort.

But now he said: “See now, Varda. In doing so, we would be able to accomplish more things than any of us ever did. For am I not Melkor? Yes, and even more so than Manwe, whom you had most often spoken to.”

But Melkor, in his pride over his own might, and in his scorn over Manwe, had hit a chord deeper than he intended, and in his cunning he overdid himself. And so it was that Varda, in her penetrating wisdom, saw through the veil that Melkor had cast over himself, and seeing past this she saw through the depths of Melkor’s heart, and there saw something she had not yet seen among any of the Ainur, for underneath the radiant Light that burned at the heart of his being grew the shadow of a gnawing Darkness, dark and dreadful. Seeing this now, all his thoughts and desires were laid bare before her, and her foresight warned her of all the terrible ills that would come to pass through this mighty Ainu, and in fear and abhorrence she rejected him.

And she said to him: “Nay, Melkor. Too long you have sought to sway the thoughts of the others to suite your own ends. But this last I will say to you, Melkor: though many may indeed listen to you, not all will follow you. Do what you will, for none will hinder you. But as for me, no part I will have in your designs. Nor would I lend any ear or thought to you again, now that I have seen what it is that burns in your heart.”

And to this, Varda departed, and from then on, no word or thought did she ever lend to him again.

Then Melkor was indeed ashamed, and he felt himself deeply humiliated, for never had he been made to suffer the shame of rejection, much less from those whom he perceived as beneath him.

But now, standing alone before the sound of the ever growing voices of the Ainur, he felt himself ever more excluded and alone. Yet he was still Melkor, mightiest among their kindred. And in his heart, he saw not yet his chance to draw the other Ainur to his fold. They too will have their time, he thought. For in his mind, all have their rightful time, even her, she who had so daringly rejected him.

But now, Melkor strained his thoughts to the multitude of Ainur that sang in the far distance. And amidst their sea of rippling voices, against the flow and flowering of their thoughts, his mind strained to dissect their blended voices. And from among the countless variant sounds, he singled out a voice above all the rest; for though his song was neither the greatest nor the most creative, in his voice Melkor heard there a sound that yearned for order, and structure, and loyalty. And there, he will find something that will have far greater use for him than Ungwelian ever did. For in him, Melkor found at last what he was looking for.

 

Chapter 5 Mairon's Liege

Melkor encounters the Maia named Mairon, one of the many spirits originally under Aule. Here, Mairon's desire for order and structure is revealed, and how, by this very same desire, he was drawn away from Aule –– and into the shadow of Melkor.

Read Chapter 5 Mairon's Liege

 

MAIRON'S LIEGE

 

 

Now among the Ainur dwelt a great multitude of spirits, far greater in number than whom the Elves would later call the Valar, the Great Ones of Arda. These spirits, whom the Elves call Maiar, are of a slighly lesser order than the Valar, both in power and glory. By now, a great number of them have chosen to dwell with the mightiest of their kindred, chief among them Manwe, Varda, Ulmo, and Yavanna, and to each of them were gathered a great host of these lesser spirits. Indeed, many of the Maiar felt drawn to the Great Ones, for in their intangible fana the Valar truly are a majesty to behold.

It now came to pass that Aule, that same spirit who would later fashion the matter of Arda's foundations, came to have many spirits gathered about him; some indeed remained content to observe, but many more showed a willingness to follow. For even before Eru had called them to his great theme, it was Aule who had already shown great proclivity towards craftsmanship. Indeed, Aule, in his fervent desire to please Eru, had fashioned in his own hands vast regions of their abode. Boundless fields of white clouds shimmered in countless shifting lights; silvery columns reaching almost up to the Firmament itself; and cavernous halls both spectacular and terrifying, with space that could encompass the whole of Arda were it to be placed beside it, and yet still leave much room for creation –– all these Aule had fashioned himself. Indeed, many of his creations at that time were built on scales too vast for Elves or Men to comprehend. No less than his peers marveled at his creations, for truly Aule was a master of building.

Yet despite his grand creations, never did Aule build for his own aggrandizement. Always his works he offered to Eru, the one true Creator, holding nothing but the delight of his brethren as his chief motive. Now Melkor saw all that was done, and he felt great envy towards Aule.

And so it came to be that Melkor would often observe Aule from a distance, content to nurse his envy from afar. It was on one of these occasions that Melkor espied Aule in the midst of a laborous task, for he had begun shaping a vast field into a towering mound of white, effervescent gas.

At first glimpse, the soft airy ground which Aule had leveled seemed simple enough, and the pillars he had raised from the ground seemed motionless and immutable. Melkor privately scorned what he thought to be Aule's lack of elaboration. But then, on closer approach, he saw through the deceptive scale of Aule's works. Alighting onto the outer fringes of the newly leveled mound, Melkor at last saw at close range their incomprehensibly colossal size. Towering from their bases, many of them spanning the size of entire mountian ranges, the pillars seemed to spire almost up to the very Firmament itself, for as he gazed upwards the distal ends of the columns gradually vanished from sight, engulfed by the filamentous clouds beyond. To his surprise, Melkor noticed the pillars were not immobile as he had surmised: they moved slowly to their side in varying directions. The pillars themselves rotated from where they stood, so that everything appeared to be in a state of slow yet constant motion. And indeed Melkor was amazed at the astounding craftmanship Aule had poured into his task. And he became all the more envious, wondering why he himself had not thought of this at first.

But now Melkor saw Aule deeply engrossed in his task. Looking farther out he saw many of the Ainur gathered at a distance, eagerly helping in expanding Aule's works. At last, upon arriving at where Aule stood, he spoke in a great voice, “Mighty works you have accomplished here, kinsman!”

Aule swiftly turned to face him. “Melkor! Your presence surprises me.” And indeed, Aule was taken aback, for rarely did Melkor ever visit him in the midst of his labours, much less speak to him. And yet he is here.

At this, Melkor smiled warmly. “And why not? Already, word of your peerless skills have reached far and wide. No Ainu has beheld your craft without ever knowing the name of its maker. Doubtless, you deserve no less than the greatest of praise. Certainly no less than mine!” Melkor said, his words ever so subtly honeyed with sneer, but Aule noticed this not.

Melkor ran his fingers on one of the great edifices, and, for his all his feigned admiration, was indeed astounded by their scale. Even more astounding to him was that the pillars seemed utterly solid, and yet by some strange art had made them light, so that even the weightless clouds could shoulder their colossal size. “What marvelous structures you have fashioned here, Aule. Who would have thought the ever-shifting gases of our abode can be turned into matter of an entirely different nature?”

“Ah, yes,” Aule replied, sounding proudly of his discovery. “I have always felt rather disquieted in seeing how matter appeared unchanging here. So I devoted much thought into altering the nature of these airy filaments, something which we can mold more permanently. And so by chance and work, I have come upon this!” Aule said, placing his hand onto one of the colossal columns.

“Indeed, I was rather hopeful you could aid me in my work. No doubt Eru would be more than pleased to see us devising things together,” said Aule. “But alas, it seems that whenever I seek you, always you are nowhere to be found.”

And Melkor, ever the cunning one, thought of a new plot, and he said, “Truly, I would have loved to partake in your works. But lately, I have come upon something which has taken my attention away from these Halls. You see, from where I have been, and seeing just how much you pour into your creations, it pains me to see that your talents are being expended here, and only here.”

To this Aule became curious. “What do you mean?”

And so Melkor feigned a sense of loss, and with his own clouded judgment unwittingly presented a different truth. “See now, Aule, here in these halls, you think you are creating genuine Being, when in truth you are not. For here, all matter trace their origins from Eru, and whatever work you fashion, nothing is ever exclusively your own. But there in the Void, there is no matter to begin with with which to recreate. Whatever you create there has true Being, for it came from Nothing, being achieved purely from your own thought!”

“So it is true, then, what the others have been saying? That you have been to the Void,” asked Aule, and he appeared rather troubled by this.

“Yes. I have seen the Void,” answered Melkor.

By now, Melkor had begun to take great pride in the knowledge that among all his kindred, he alone had been able to explore the vast stretches of the Void.

But Melkor went on, seeing as yet that Aule did not fully grasp his words. “If I you ask me, I would rather see your skillful hands filling the emptiness of the Void. For would not that be the greatest acheivement for any Ainu? To be like his Maker, being able to create new Beings for himself?”

Upon hearing this, Aule looked away, his gaze resting on the vast basins he had carved among the white mists below. He fell silent for a while. At last he spoke, and his demeanor changed. “I have not seen the Void as you have, Melkor. And from what I have heard, neither would I want to see it, lest there be guidance from Eru.” And he looked at Melkor in the eye. “While your thought of creating Being out of Nothing may indeed be marvelous, I have no desire to achieve what you seek. Nay, such power, I believe, do not belong to us. For if Eru deemed it wise to grant us that power, he would have done so long ago.”

For all his brilliant deductions, Melkor had not expected such a reply from Aule. Indeed, he found that Aule's argument utterly crushed all his assumptions, and for a while both of them were silent.

“But of course,” Melkor finally spoke. “How could I have been so presumptious? Thinking we could be like our Father. I stand corrected,” Melkor replied tersely.

But Aule did not reply, and, being fueled by the fire of his creative urges, went instead towards the other Ainur that were gathared at a great distance, eager to teach them the new devices he had discovered. For Aule, ever selfless in his pursuits, never felt bound to any of his creations, being rather driven by the joy of creating, and in engaging new tasks.

But now Melkor was left alone. He looked at the thousands of mighty pillars Aule had erected. But he felt no interest in them, or scorn, even. Here, alone with his kinsman's monumental creations, he was left to feel his own dejectedness, for by his words he had sought to lead Aule astray from his devotion to Eru, much as he had done with Ungwelian. But now, in bitter realization, he learned that Aule is not to be so easily misled. And he stood there in silence, his heart colder than ever.

“The Void. Is it true what you spoke of?” A voice suddenly called. Melkor turned to see who it was. Suddenly, familiarity began to dawn on him, for on the many instances that he had listened to the interchanging choirs of his brethren, always a particular voice rose above the flowing melodies. Mairon. Yes, that was his name. For that was how he called himself. And Melkor remembered the presence of this Ainu during the many times he had espied Aule in his labours, for even in the begining Mairon was one of those who had been especially drawn to Aule's love for smithcraft, they being essentially of the same heart.

But then Mairon asked again. “The Void. Is it true what you spoke of?”

At this, Melkor was suprised, taken aback at the Maia's apparent resoluteness. For while others of Mairon's stature would generally defer to his mighty presence, this one did not. And the thought amused him, though it pleased him not. But now he gazed upon the other spirit, and he said, “It is true.”

Mairon fell silent for a while, and then he asked: “What is the Void? ”

Melkor did not answer immediately, but instead rose to his full height, and the majesty of his countenance and the radiance of the light that emanated from his being awed Mairon. “It is the Nothingness of this reality,” he revealed proudly. “An emptiness in an eternal state of Unbeing. A negation of our abode, if you prefer.”

“I have heard of it from the others ... this Void,” Mairon said. “They say that you have been into its confines many times, and that you have returned with new-found knowledge.”

“The Void is infinite, just as these Halls are infinite,” Melkor spoke, his words not directly addressing the other's query. “It is from my long journeys that have I come to this conclusion. For in all my odysseys, I have yet to see its edges.”

Mairon mused at this. “It must be a wonder then to behold oneself in the Void ... being able to create matter from complete nothingness. To see how an empty part of the Void becomes realized into Being, and so is no longer void.”

And Melkor remembered his own wanderings in the Outer Darkness, of how he had vainly sought for the Flame Imperishable; going so far as to even mislead Ungwelian into a fate he knows not, all for the purpose of obtaining a power he could not comprehend, or ever will. And his failure at this endeavour caused his deepest frustrations to rise once more like a choking smog, clouding his mind and heart, blinding his aims, and he was filled with unrest.

But now, as Mairon laid bare his thought, Melkor perceived a new thing, something he had not noticed before. And this new discovery cleared his mind. For now he perceived that this Ainu, much like the other lesser spirits that dwelt in the Timeless Halls, were easier to sway; for being less in power and wisdom they were wont to be drawn to those with greater power, they being driven by the desire to emulate those that they admired. And, unlike the other great spirits, they were more receptive to his suggestions, thinking ever that the Great Ones have new knowledge to impart, to which they were more than eager to receive. Melkor, armed with this new knowledge, now sought to exploit this to the utmost.

“And why should it not, Mairon?” spoke Melkor, the light in his eyes shining fiercely as of white-hot embers. “Why should the Void remain so empty, when so much creation can be made from it? And yes, much more so than what we have here! For there in the Void, all matter we bring into existence will come solely from our own imagining, without root or origin from Eru.”

So filled with passion and conviction were Melkor's words that Mairon could not challenge it even in his own thought, for such was the power of Melkor's persuasive skills, where even the uncertain becomes an untested truth, and the most determined fall into doubt.

“Great love I have for Aule, for his works and devices are truly wondrous to behold, and always he shares his knowledge to the willing,” revealed Mairon. “But by the same gift Eru has bequeathed to him, he is wont to be impatient, and so it is often that without intention on his part, he leaves many of his works never quite as finished as they should. And to that I find the greatest pleasure, for nothing else brings me joy than to re-order his creations, to bring structure into their untempered forms, and, if possible, bring them together into a great whole.”

And hearing this, Melkor was even more pleased. “Then all the more you should see the Void!” he said. “For here, you merely fashion creation already made by another, and thus can never truly call them your own. The same holds true for Aule, or for any of us; for all that we create here ultimately trace their origins from Eru, and so nothing we device here can ever purely come from our own imagining. Here, you may delight in whatever endeavour you desire, but your accomplishments will always be judged under the shadow of Aule. But there in the Void, you can will into existence things both new and as yet unimagined, and they shall truly be your own.” And so in such manner did Melkor speak of the Void, for that was how the Void came to be understood by Melkor: as an incalculably vast nothingness, arousing both his desire and frustration, and yet something even his great thought could never fully comprehend or encompass. Yet so drawn was he to its enigmatic darkness that he now began to see it as an unbeing completely divorced from the rest of Eru's creation, to which Eru himself had no hand in creating. For in his boundless pride, his understanding had been twisted, until in the end all truth became a lie, and in his ever darkening heart he nursed them, like seeds waiting to be sown into the hearts of the lesser willed. To that purpose did Melkor now proceeed, seeking ever so eagerly to draw as many Ainur into his fold.

And with Melkor's fiery words, Mairon indeed was kindled with desire to become like Aule, and he said. “Truly, I see now how much I could still accomplish with my own hands! For though I may not be as mighty as Aule, I may at the very least have the chance to bring into being devices unique to my own thought.” And he asked eagerly, “Where is this Void you speak of? Where can it be found?”

To this Melkor could only laugh, seeing as yet how little Mairon understood, and with upraised arms he declared mightily, “It is everywhere! It is the infinite Darkness that surrounds us, beyond even the Firmament or the Abyss, or the power of any thought to fully comprehend.”

But now Mairon, after hearing of Melkor's grand pronouncements, spoke thus, “Yes. I wish to see the Void. I wish to see this thing they call Darkness. Will you show it to me?”

To this, Melkor needed no further prodding, and he smiled, for here his aim had been accomplished. “Not only will you see the Void,” he said gravely. “Enter into it you will as well.”

And so began Mairon's long path away from Aule, down into the Darkness with Melkor.