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

---

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.

---

 

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.