The Journal of Alatáriel, Missionary by Clodia

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Arrival in Middle-earth

The Journal of Alatáriel, Missionary

 

 

 

 

ARRIVAL IN MIDDLE-EARTH

To reach unharmed the shores of distant Beleriand, and sail into the havens at Eglarest and Brithombar where Círdan is lord, there to be welcomed with great joy as kin to Elwë Singollo, whose name carries some degree of influence in these dark lands, was the source of considerable pleasure to myself and Teleporno. The Falathrim are very much like the Teleri, albeit less advanced in most forms of craftsmanship and artistry than that carefree race, and we swiftly determined that their rudimentary grasp of such matters was more than sufficient for their needs.[1] Since they proved for the most part unreceptive to our attempted instruction, citing instead the lessons of one Melian,[2] the bride of Elwë, we preserved our wealth of lore for more worthy souls. Nonetheless, discovering that Melkor had fled before us to Beleriand, and finding that Middle-earth at this time was too dangerous for extensive travel, we dwelt among the Falathrim and applied ourselves to learning their tongue [3] until the coming of Fëanor’s sons and Fingolfin’s hosts to Middle-earth.

Then Fëanor was slain by the Balrogs of Angband, too late to pay penance for the sack of Alqualondë; and by Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros, the Noldor were again united under the rule of my father’s brother Fingolfin. Learning of these events, and the beleaguerment of Angband, we discerned that we might at last leave behind the safety of Círdan’s haven and press into the furthest reaches of Middle-earth, there to further our hallowed cause. To the unquenchable grief of Círdan and the Falathrim, therefore, Teleporno and I set out into the newly sunlit world.

 

 

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SEPT. 3. How shall I describe the tumult within my breast on entering this interesting Land, where that purpose for which my life had been designed awaited me? Recollection carried me back to the long years of my discipleship, absorbing the wisdom of the Valar in a spirit of gratitude and humility; and I said, Who can tell, but that soon I shall put my knowledge to the best possible use, – to instruct and inform the natives of Middle-earth, who have long been abandoned to languish in the darkness of ignorance through the fear and superstition of their leaders, rather than any fault of their own.[4] Blessed are they that walk in the ways laid down for them by the Valar!

The country to the east of Eglarest is the very image of picturesque desolation. We had not long passed out from the town’s fair walls, nor had the sights and sounds of the ocean been lost to our ears, when the beautifully sloping meadows became darkened by groves of unruly woods, which grew quite untended over the peaks and along the valleys. The climate is surprisingly cool; being accustomed to the balmy breezes of Valinor, we were unprepared to meet with such extremes of windiness and chill temperatures, but Lord Círdan very kindly supplied us with suitable garments for travelling in Beleriand on our departure from his realms. He has also provided guides who will see us safely to the edge of the Forest of Region; for he informs us that Elwë Singollo dwells there beneath the trees in the company of a number of Dark Elves,[5] and will undoubtedly wish to see us, if only for our kinsman Olwë’s sake.[6]

Teleporno and I have agreed that Elwë’s settlement will be an excellent place to begin our work in Middle-earth. The presence of a loremistress with some small reputation among these untutored people gives us particular hope; there is no doubt that Elwë’s bride, if she is truly wise, will receive us gladly for the sake of the wisdom that we can bestow upon her.[7]

Our journey has so far been lonely; we have met no other travellers on the rough paths indicated to us by our guides. Truly, this country is a wilderness, for all its beauty!

SEPT. 7. About noon, we entered upon a succession of foothills, the slopes of which swiftly gave way to steep and thickly wooded peaks. The ground is very rough and, as we ascended the mountainous slopes, the path dwindled almost to nothingness, so that our progress became very slow. I was perfectly astonished by the ease with which the guides traversed the gullies and broken precipices that hindered my own passage.

We have been informed that these highlands are named Taur-in-Faroth, or “the High Faroth” in a more vulgar parlance. There are still no other Elves to be seen. Previously, or so our guides say, this region had been inhabited by a number of simple hunters; but in recent years, they have been obliged to retreat to Círdan’s havens or to the forests of Region and Neldoreth, for fear of Morgoth’s hordes. So pitiful are the lives of the poor natives, hiding like foxes in their woody dens![8]

SEPT. 15. A violent and unrelenting storm has compelled us to remain under shelter the whole day. To our natural disappointment has been added considerable discomfort; for the caves in which we took shelter, – not without difficulty, for the entrance was perilous to assay, – are filled with dampness and the roaring of nearby water. They are situated on the western side of a steep gorge, below which a foaming stream called the Ringwil joins the rapids of the Narog, a river of tremendous width and speed; and were it not for the precipitous nature of the cliff face, and the noisy tumult of the rapids, the eye would fasten upon this vista as one of rare and fearful beauty.[9] Although we have not ventured far into the caves, it is apparent that these rocky enclosures penetrate very deeply into the mountain, and I dread to think what terrible creatures may have made their lairs in the furthest parts of these subterranean dwellings.

Our guides inform us that the river is too deep and swift to be crossed here, and that we must travel northwards until we reach the juncture of the Narog and the Ginglith.[10] I was overcome by no little dismay at the prospect of such a lengthy and circuitous journey; but on hearing my affectionate Partner express his pleasure that we shall be following, if not the sea, then at least a very great and majestic watercourse, I resolved myself to a likeminded spirit of patience and forbearance.

SEPT. 26. We have forded the Narog. “By the grace of the Valar, all paths shall be open unto you,”[11] and so it proved, although the roughness of the tumbling waters and the strength of the wind caused me to fear for our safety. The crossing was made without mishap, however. Ahead of us lies a vast and beautiful plain;[12] it is well-watered by intersecting rivers and streams, and covered by perpetual verdure, so that the herds of deer that graze here never know scarcity. Numerous groves of upstanding trees imprison many acres of land within the shadow of their spreading branches.

The pleasure which these prospects are adapted to create is damped only by the emptiness of this wilderness; for the natives, even before these lands were overrun by Morgoth’s servants, gave no thought to the most expeditious usage of their copious resources; this heedlessness is no doubt considerably exacerbated by the want of civilization. Had they excitements to diligence, and improvements in agriculture, then these plains, instead of having a few wild deer scattered thinly over them, would be alive with cattle; and a wealth of golden corn would cover the hillsides, recalling the riches of Valinor. O that the plans of myself and my affectionate Partner for evangelizing and civilizing this barbarous land may be met with success![13]

OCT. 10. This morning our guides observed to us that we should reach the heights of Amon Rûdh, or “the Bald Hill”, by nightfall; and shortly before the Sun’s descent beyond the westernmost perimeters of the world, we did indeed arrive at a high and stony peak, situated upon the edge of the moorlands. The upper parts of this startling protrusion are mantled with a plant called by the natives seregon, which is “Blood of Stone”; – for they say that when this plant flowers, it appears as though blood is flowing on all sides from the head of the hill.[14] The cruelty of this image seems to me symptomatic of the moral desolation generally discoverable in the mental processes of the natives, whose long separation from the light and goodness of the Valar has so dulled the innate nobility of their Elvish natures as to render them crude and almost bestial.[15]

From the slopes of Amon Rûdh, it is possible to see the beginnings of the Forest of Region. We are very close to our place of destination now. The vision greatly delighted us; and we said,

“By starlight known, in starlight found –
A! Elbereth! Guide of our lives!
Lead Thou us safe past every foe,
Through Thee alone our spirits thrive.”[16]

OCT. 15. The journey between Amon Rûdh and the outskirts of Region was accomplished with ease, the weather notwithstanding, this having taken an unhappy turn for the worse in recent days. It was with mounting eagerness that we passed between woody pillars that supported a green and leafy roof of great height. “We shall soon be met by the marchwardens of King Thingol, if the Queen wills it,” said our guides, which we thought mere superstition, but in fact proved to be the case; for, not long afterwards, when we had paused to take refreshments, we were startled to find ourselves surrounded by a number of Elves bearing axes and bows.

I was thrown into perturbation by the martial appearance of this encounter, and Teleporno shared my natural alarm; but our guides at once leapt to their feet and proffered effusive greetings to the strangers. These were warmly returned; and, perceiving that we had met Elwë’s marchwardens, I arose with the intention of making my own and my affectionate Partner’s identities known. However, “There is no need for you to name yourselves,” said the leader of the marchwardens, “for the Queen has sent us to bring you safely through the shadows of her Girdle. I know you to be Lady Alatáriel of the Noldor and Lord Teleporno of the Teleri, who have until recently dwelt with Lord Círdan at Eglarest. I am Beleg Strongbow. The King and Queen send their greetings, and would have me welcome you to Doriath.”[17] When our astonishment had abated, we thanked the gentleman for his most gracious welcome, and bade him direct us immediately towards the camp of Elwë Singollo. This appeared to cause him slight confusion; but, after conferring with our guides, he agreed to conduct us thither without further delay.

The woods of Doriath are suffused by a strange and pleasant serenity that somehow recalled to my mind the atmosphere of Valinor; this impression, as I found later, was shared by my dear Teleporno. We had anticipated that the paths to Elwë’s camp would be obscured by weeds and other such impediments, for our Falathrim guides had spoken of a “Girdle” and intimated to us that this “Girdle” sheltered Elwë’s people from discovery by their enemies;[18] but Beleg and the marchwardens instead led us by broad and easily travelled paths along a beautiful river, which Beleg informed us was called the Esgalduin. After journeying for some considerable distance, we arrived at a wide stone bridge, which aroused in us no little surprise; for it had been constructed with such skill and elegance that it would not have appeared out of place in Valinor. “Here,” said our kind guide, “you shall find the camp of King Thingol,” – and he ushered us across the bridge and through the imposing gates that had been erected there.

Our amazement was increased by the sights that now met our wondering eyes. A broad avenue, the walls and ceiling of which were sculpted in perfect imitation of interlinked trees, replete with gilded birds and jewelled climbing creatures, afforded access to a succession of unbelievably huge caves. These were supported by more pillars transformed with consummate skill into stone trees, all with golden lanterns suspended from their branches; the white light issuing from these lanterns illuminated pools as clear as crystal and the brilliant glitter of dancing fountains. Upon the walls were many-hued tapestries illustrating scenes of great majesty. Among all these marvels were disposed numerous Elves, who laughed and talked together as we were ushered through their midst, some making music very beautifully with the harp and pipes or other instruments.

At last we came to a hall more tremendous and remarkable than any of the caves that had preceded it. The impression was of a particularly spacious and ancient grove, and indeed a number of perfectly tame nightingales fluttered among the stone branches; but it was not quiet as such a grove would have been, for a throng of brilliantly dressed Elves filled the hall, and there were children playing noisy games in every corner. As I was rehearsing in my mind the assurances of greeting and goodwill that I had prepared for this moment, I was confronted by a vision that caused the words to die on my lips. Before me stood, as I thought, a lord and lady of the Maiar; both very tall, the former with hair of grey silver and his lady’s tresses as dark as twilight, their faces alight with Aman’s glory.[19]

“In truth, it is plain to see that you are my brother’s descendants,” said the silver-haired lord, stretching out his hands to myself and Teleporno. “I had not thought to see Olwë’s kin within my halls and your coming gladdens my heart. Be ever sure of your welcome in Menegroth, Teleporno and Alatáriel!”

“Welcome indeed,” said his lady, and her voice was sweeter than the singing of the nightingales. She fastened her starlit eyes upon my face and, smiling, said, “For it has come to my ears that your kinswoman is a loremistress, and wishes to educate us in the wisdom of the Valar. There can be little doubt that she knows much we should learn.”

 

 

 

 

[1] It need hardly be noted that these less-than-complimentary sentiments do not reflect Lady Galadriel’s opinion of the Falathrim.

[2] The history of Melian the Maia Queen of Doriath is far too well-known to require undue elaboration here; that her teachings had thoroughly permeated Beleriand long before the First Age of the Sun is, however, perfectly true.

[3] On their return to Middle-earth, the Calaquendi were of course obliged to relearn “Sindarin”, their dialect having diverged from the ancestral tongue during their residence in Valinor.

[4] This statement may be usefully compared with the comments in the ‘Introduction’ on the regrettable ignorance of the Silvans, also attributed to the faults of their leaders (cf. also ‘Introduction’, n.4); here, however, no distinctions are made between the various peoples of antique Beleriand, nor is there any apparent awareness that they did not share a single, unified culture. We are perhaps intended to assume that Lady Galadriel’s sojourn in Doriath enlightened her on this front, although the Journal contains no explicit statements to this effect. In any case, given Queen Melian’s presence at the centre of Middle-earth’s cultural life, it is certainly not true to talk of ‘abandonment’ or ‘the darkness of ignorance’ in connection with the Elves of ancient Beleriand, although this opinion is wholly plausible when attributed to an Elf newly arrived from Valinor. (Indeed, the editors themselves heard it on the lips of several otherwise perceptive Noldor in the early years of the First Age and during the War of Wrath.)

[5] It is highly unlikely that Lord Círdan would have described Doriath, a locus of Elvish civilisation and lore and one of the greatest kingdoms the world has ever known, in these terms.

[6] Elu Thingol of Doriath and Olwë of Alqualondë were brothers.

[7] Cf. n.2.

[8] A grossly inadequate analogy for the rich and highly sophisticated civilisation at this time flourishing in Doriath; but, again, a not uncommon sentiment among the Exiles at the time of their arrival in Middle-earth.

[9] This description can only be of the gorge of Nargothrond, where Lady Galadriel’s brother Finrod Felagund later delved his stronghold in imitation of Menegroth, the subterranean city of Doriath.

[10] This is quite correct; and indeed there was no easy way to cross the Narog until Túrin son of Húrin convinced the Noldor of Nargothrond (unwisely, as it turned out) to construct a bridge across the river, similar to the structure that afforded access to Menegroth, in order to transport more easily weapons and soldiers between the city and the opposite river bank.

[11] A traditional saying among the Silvans.

[12] Talath Dirnen, the Guarded Plain to the north of Nargothrond.

[13] Cf. n.4, 8.

[14] An accurate description of Amon Rûdh, which later became famous as the home of Mîm the Petty-Dwarf and the temporary refuge of Túrin son of Húrin.

[15] Cf. n.13.

[16] A verse from an ancient paean to Elbereth traditionally sung by the Sindar of Eglador; cf. ‘Darkness Falls Upon Valinor’ (n.1).

[17] A surprisingly plausible first encounter, not least through the invocation of Beleg Strongbow, chief of the marchwardens of Doriath.

[18] This of course refers to “Melian’s Girdle”, the wall of shadow and bewilderment that protected Doriath through the power of Melian after Morgoth’s return to Middle-earth.

[19] A decent, if workmanlike, description of Menegroth and its people in the age of Elu Thingol.

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