Fellowship & Fairydust

The children of J.R.R. Tolkien and Ilúvatar have a bit of a mixed reputation in fantasy. For some, elves cast in Tolkien’s mold are the epitome of perfection among fantasy races. They are immortal, eternally young and beautiful, and their mastery of knowledge, music, and magic is unparalleled. Sometimes they are portrayed as pacifists, but other times they are unmatched, even bloodthirsty, warriors. Others take a dimmer view of these elves, seeing them as stuck up elitists and are envious of the popularity that elves enjoy compared to other fantasy races. Elves in this context are often mocked for being passive, cold, indifferent to the troubles of others, or stingy for not sharing their wealth of accomplishments. While these accusations are harsh, even those who revere elves can be a bit baffled by the air of melancholy that Tolkien bequeathed to them, especially when they have what appears to be the ultimate gift: immortality.

But after reading The Silmarillion, I think that Tolkien’s Elves are perhaps the most tragic characters in his books. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are Tolkien’s best-known stories and focus on the exploits of Hobbits, Men, and Dwarves, with the Elves only appearing along the periphery. But when you look at the linguistic origins of Middle-Earth, and The Silmarillion in particular, I think that Tolkien’s body of work is essentially one long ongoing story of the Elves. And, thanks to the influence of Norse mythology and epic poems like The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, that story tends to be a tragic one.

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Although Elves are a separate race of beings, they are in fact a lot more like humans than might be assumed at first glance. They are still affected by and indulge in what we would call very human emotions: greed and hate, lust and jealousy, pride, and fear. The Silmarillion shows not just how these emotions and subsequent reactions affected the Elves personally, but how they rippled down through families and across Middle-Earth, the repercussions shaping history in fundamental ways. And because the Elves are “old enough to know better,” these tragic events become that much more heart-breaking.

Greed & Hate:

I remember being baffled by the obsession with treasure that led Thranduril, Elf-king of the Woodland Realm, to participate in the Battle of the Five Armies (see The Hobbit). Elves are usually portrayed as placing great value on beautiful objects, but more as an appreciation for the craftsmanship and meaning behind it, not the monetary worth the way humans or dwarves would see it. But after reading about how much bloodshed took place over three gemstones (regardless of how beautiful) it no longer seems un-elf-like to be so petty. Enter Fëanor, a great prince and leader of the Elves whose greed and hate cost them dearly.

When the Elves lived in Valinor alongside the Valar (the “gods” of Middle-Earth), Fëanor created three beautiful gems and caught light from the two Holy Trees of Valinor within them. He called these gems “the Silmarils,” and over time became so covetous of them that they were kept hidden away under lock and key. When the Two Trees were destroyed by the machinations of the Enemy, the Valar asked Fëanor to give them the Silmarils to restore the Light, but he refused. The Enemy then killed Fëanor’s father and stole the Silmarils. In his rage against both the Enemy and the Valar, Fëanor and his seven sons swore a terrible oath to reclaim the Silmarils, no matter what, and led many of the Elves away from Valinor back to Middle-Earth. His hate and greed not only sundered the Elven peoples, but also led directly to the First Kinslaying. By shedding the blood of their fellow Elves, Fëanor brought down the Doom of Mandos, barring the Elves from ever returning to Valinor, though their spirits would find their way to his halls of the dead. The greatest craftsman of the Elves not only shaped their most beautiful treasures, but also crafted their greatest punishment (and as far as I can tell never repented of it).  He was the spark for all of the following calamities that consumed Middle-Earth.

Lust & Jealousy:

Gondolin was a city of Elves and Men hidden from the forces of evil for centuries. It might have stood until Frodo’s time if they hadn’t been betrayed by one of their own. The king’s nephew, an Elf named Maeglin, was born outside the city, but came there later with his mother. Once in Gondolin, Maeglin met and developed feelings for the king’s daughter, Idril. But as since they were first cousins they could not wed, and Idril found Maeglin’s interest disturbing. His love and affection turned into lust and jealousy, especially after Idril married the Man Tuor. Eventually Maeglin betrayed the location of Gondolin to the Enemy with the promise of receiving Idril as his prize. While Gondolin was destroyed and thousands of its people killed, Maeglin never received his reward. He attempted to kill Eärendil, the half-Elven son of Idril and Tuor, but Tuor stopped him and threw Maeglin over the ramparts to his death. Idril and Tuor escaped with Eärendil, who would later become the father of Elrond.

Pride:

The other great bastion of the Elves in Middle-Earth was Doriath, long shielded from the Enemy by the magic of a Maia (or lesser Valar) named Melian. When a Man named Beren asked to marry Lúthien, the daughter of Melian and the elvish High King Thingol, Thingol did not want to part with her. So he asked Beren to retrieve a Silmaril from the Enemy as the price for his daughter’s hand. (The epic poem The Tale of Tinúviel tells more of the story.) In short, Beren and Lúthien succeeded and brought back a Silmaril. Thingol decided to have the gem set in a special necklace made by the Dwarves, but apparently failed to account for the effect that the Silmaril would have on them. The Dwarves demanded the necklace (with the Silmaril) as payment for their work. In his pride, Thingol scorned their request and they killed him for it. With his death, Melian had no reason to remain in Middle-Earth and left for Valinor. Doriath was left open to attack by the Enemy and soon fell, further scattering the Elves.

Fear:

I think that, after the initial massive exile of the Elves thanks to Fëanor, this is the part that makes me the most sad. After centuries of fighting, only two of Fëanor’s original seven sons remained alive: Maedhros and Maglor. During their lives, they’d done many good things to stave off the forces of the Enemy and protect Middle-Earth. But their oath to reclaim the Silmarils still drove them to commit atrocities and follies alike. Eventually they decided to try again to reclaim the Silmarils which were being held for safekeeping by the Maia Eönwë. Initially, they did ask for them, albeit in a very high-handed way, but Eönwë refused. He said that they would have to return to Valinor for judgment for the crimes of kinslaying, that there was still much blood on their hands for them to safely hold the Silmarils. Maglor urged his brother to beg pardon from the Valar, but Maedhros argued that there was no guarantee that such a pardon would be granted. The Oath of Fëanor bound them and if the Valar withheld mercy, then they would be doubly damned: once by being cast into the outer darkness by the Valar and a second time for not fulfilling their oath. Maglor consented and they managed to steal the Silmarils. However, they were still too tainted to hold the gems. Maedhros threw himself and the Silmaril into a fiery chasm and Maglor cast his into the sea, wandering alone along the shores after that, presumabely unto his death. And what saddens me the most about this is that of all the sons of Fëanor, these two were the best and most honorable. I wonder what great things they could have accomplished if they had not been bound to such an oath, or if they’d found a way to circumvent it. The entire affair is just so sad… and wasteful.

As you can see from this list of sins, the Elves had an effect on Middle-Earth far greater than their numbers would suggest, and the ripples of those choices came back to haunt them even centuries later. Immortality is a double-edged sword, and a heavy one at that. It’s a weight that Men, and even Dwarves, often find hard to comprehend, especially when so many of the players are merely names out of legend. Since many of the Elves mentioned so far are characters that few of us would be very familiar with, I want to present a personalized example of just how painful the weight of this history and the burden of all this bloodshed can be when one is immortal. I want to speak briefly of the history of Elrond.

Pain:

In the film version of The Fellowship of the Ring, Elrond and Gandalf have a discussion in Rivendell about what to do to respond to the threat from Mordor. Gandalf suggests that Men will be the ones to help face this evil, but Elrond is skeptical. He says, “I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago. I was there the day the strength of Men failed.” We then get a flashback to the battle at Mount Doom when Sauron was defeated but the One Ring was kept by the Man Isildur rather than destroyed. While interesting and informative, this doesn’t give you the full weight of what three thousand years actually means. (And truth be told, Elrond is over six thousand years old when the events of The Lord of the Rings take place.) Elrond seems stiff and cautious, not to mention overprotective of his daughter Arwen, but after reading The Silmarillion you realize that he has very good reasons to be. His parents guarded a Silmaril and, due to some very strange circumstances, they can never return to Middle-Earth. (His mother jumped into the sea and turned into a giant swan to escape with the jewel and keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and now his father carries it around the world in a flying boat as a new constellation. Talk about weird family histories…) During the Third Kinslaying, Elrond and his twin brother Elros were captured and subsequently adopted by one of those kinslayers, Maglor. (Yes, the same Maglor who stole a Silmaril and threw it into the sea.)

Since they are half-Elven on both sides of the family tree, Elrond and Elros were given the choice to either become human or remain elven. Elros chose to become a Man and the first king of Numenor, but Elrond remained an Elf. That meant he had to watch not only his brother eventually die of old age, but also see the decline of Elros’s descendants into darkness as the Men of Numenor became corrupted and obsessed with gaining immortality for themselves. Eventually Numenor was destroyed, sent to the bottom of the sea by the Valar like the Elvish version of Atlantis. And Isildur, being one of the royal blood of Numenor, is technically a many-times-great-grandnephew of Elrond… and he ends up allowing the One Ring to survive to bring more strife to Middle-Earth.

In addition, about five hundred years before Frodo comes to Rivendell, Elrond’s wife, Celebrían, daughter of Galadriel (yes, the Galadriel), was captured and tortured by orcs. While she was rescued by her sons, she could not be fully healed, soon leaving Middle-Earth for Valinor. And as if that wasn’t enough, Elrond’s daughter Arwen gives up her immortality to stay with Aragorn, High King of Gondor, and thus accepts the “gift” of Men (a.k.a. “death”) which will sever her permanently from her family. In all likelihood, Elrond and Celebrían will never see their daughter again, even if Middle-Earth and Valinor survive this latest war with the Enemy. The Elves don’t know where the souls of Men go, only that they do not enter the Halls of Mandos. To an immortal, “never” has a ring of finality that just cannot be comprehended by those doomed to die.

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All of this only touches the surface of The Silmarillion. There are folk with a much higher caliber of linguistic and scholarly capability who have plumbed those depths in far greater detail. But I hope this will encourage you to read The Silmarillion (and its companion, The Unfinished Tales) for yourself. It adds so many layers to the history and lore of Middle-Earth, strikes so many emotional chords, and each new excavation yields glittering gems more potent in their literary beauty than any Silmaril.