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Ah yes it is good to see it back on track.
Once again though I am confused. So Iguess people kind of agree that the light is pure? I understand some of what you are saying Imp. WHat I do understand I agree with.
I am slowly re-reading the chapter and I wanted to ask what does everyone think of Varda Hollowing the Silmarils so that 'no mortal flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered'. Particularly including mortals. I sort of did not understand that part, including mortals with those of evil intentions toward a Silmaril.

Oh I wanted to comment, didn't the Valar summon the Quendi to Valinor in part to keep them safe from evil? Didnt thjey realize that Melkor would have to come out of prison? Didn't the the Valar inadvertantly put the Quendi in close proximity to one the most evil in Arda? If the Quendi were not there when Melkor was released from prison, there would be no one to listen to his lies and rumours. Feanor would not be there for Melkor to play like a fiddle. Also, Melkor would not directly see the quendi and feel jealous and start plotting to split them from the Valar. I am sure he would of come up with some other devious plan but that particular relationsio he would not get jealous of.

When I think of Melkor coming out of prison and seeing the elves and Valinor enriched by them. I see someone who did not get invited to the party and only arrived after all the party favours were given out and the cake was eaten. Although Melkor did not do well when he had the elves to himself, but to see them and the Valar do so much better without him? Of course it would fuel his jealousy since it would prove that Arda does not need him to succeed and that it is impossible for him to be a godlike figure no matter how much he wants to be. I can imagine him seeing Valinor (with the elves) and considering it a humiliation for him, proof that he is not Eru and never can be. (Thank you Imp for clarifying Melkor's intentions). Of course he would want to destroy it. The thing is why didn't the Valar see this? (Although, I guess Mandos did since when the Valar decided to summon the Quendi he said 'so it is doomed')

Also, to see the creatures for which he was imprisoned for enjoying themselves and adding to the bliss of the Valar and Valinor? Of course he would want revenge.

Were the Valar so blinded by their desire to have the elves with them that did not realize they could put the elves under direct influence of Melkor?

Anyone familiar with a book called "TOLKIEN and the SILMARILS: Imagination & Myth in The Silmarillion" by Randel Helms? I picked it up at a flea market a while back, and it promptly disappeared on my book shelf. It is a short volume (less then 100 pages of text), but it did not grab my interest when I first glanced at it. However, I've had another look at it to see if Helms has anything interesting to say about the current chapter, and I did find quite a bit of interest. My apologies at the length of this post.

Helms wrote:

Though Tolken's overall themes are bilblical, the story of the Silmarils found its inspiration in the same work he mined for his tale of Turin Turambar -- The Kalevala -- and in particular the story of the creation and theft of the Sampo. In Runes 10, 42-43, and 47-49 of The Kalevala Tolkien found the source of much of the outline of the Silmarils' story. In that work the blacksmith hero Ilmarinen forges his great treasure, the Sampo, as Feanor has made the Silmarilli, objects much coveted by Tolkien's antagonist, Melkor. Tolkien has, however, divided some of his source's characters in two; his counterpart to Ilmarinen is both Feanor who made the Silmarils and Beren who must recapture one of them. Ilmarinen wishes to wed the daughter of Louhi, and to gain the privilege of wooing her he must give the Sampo to Louhi, as Beren, wishing to marry Luthien, the daughter of Thingol.

Helms goes on for some pages describing the parallels between the story of the Silmarils and the story of the Sampo, some of which seems a bit forced, but is interesting nonetheless. I was aware of the connection between the Kalevala and the story of Turin, because Tolkien specifically refers to it in his letters. But it is interesting to see the greater influence that this work had on the structure (though not necessarily the themes) of the Silmarillion. As Helms says:

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Tolkien has deepened and enriched what he has taken from The Kalevala, by attaching it to a major theme, the history of a world and its fate, and by giving it a more powerful mythological cast; he has, that is, attached his version of the Sampo tale to a revision of the Bible, and structured it according to a strong and resonant pattern -- the overarching laws of His Secondary World. Those laws affect the success of a large and complex narrative pattern, a tale in which the creation of the Silmarils is on the one hand an act "snared" in the web of Melkor and on the other hand part of the overall plan of Iluvator ... .

Helms then goes on to tackle head-on the very questions that we have been grappling with both here and at the earlier discussion in m00bies (and I'm sure in Books and/or the Virtual Study Group as well): the questions of fate, predestination and free will.

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What Tolkien throughout The Silmarillion calls "fate" or "doom" really means the hidden will of Iluvator, controlling for good the destinies of all Arda and its overlords and inhabitants. Yet fate is not merely applied from outside a character; it is paradoxically the expression of his own free nature as that nature exists within Eru; for each character in The Silmarillion whether evil or good, stands before Iluvatar with both free will and the certainty that whatever he wills shall turn out, like the acts of Melkor, as but "part of the whole and tributary to its glory."

Helms points out that this is a traditional Christian theme, and engages in a comparison between Tolkien's work and that of Milton's Paradise Lost. He then describes what he calls "The Second Law of Arda: the power of the oath, curse, or prophecy." As Helms points out, in Tolkien's secondary world, these things have real existence and power. Yet in the end they are really just a reflection of the will of Eru. He also describes what he calls the Third Law of Arda, the Law of Creativity. Helms points out that the inhabitants of Tolkien's world are filled with the urge to make and build, for both good and bad. And yet is this not just another manifestation or reflection of the will of Eru?

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The last of the structruing laws of Arda I call the Enchantment of Beauty. This law has two faces, the two responses to beauty: love and lust. The first desires love in response from the beloved, the second only covets possession of an object, whether animate or inanimate. The one is good in Middle-earth, the other evil, but both work toward the fulfillment of Eru's master plan.

The application of this "Law" to the story of the Silmarils does not need belaboring. The second face raises its ugly head early on in both Melkor and Feanor himself, and later in Feanor's sons. This will intersect, however, two manifestations of the first face of this Law, the stories of Thingol and Melian, and of course Beren and Luthien. But that comes down the line a ways and I will say no more about it at this time.

As Helms points out, the creation of the Silmarils gives Melkor an opportunity to work his vengence against both the Valar and the Eldar, "a way to come between the elves and Valar with the Silmarils and the power they represent." Helms compares Melkor's lies with that of the serpent on the Garden of Eden. He goes on to talk about the darkening of Valinor and further chapters, which I will no doubt mention when we move on to them.

To answer my own question, to me the Silmarils are holy because they represent the purest manifestation of Eru's will left in Arda. In the Bible, of course, God says "Let there be Light" and there was. The workings of Tolkien's God are perhaps a bit more convoluted that the God of the Judeo-Christian scriptures. Instead of saying "Let there be Light" Eru says "Let there be Yavanna" who then manifests His will by bringing forth the Trees, from which Light emanate. Eru then says "Let there be Feanor" (to poor Miriel's downfall) so that he can create these unimaginable vessels to preserve some of that pure Light against the workings of Melkor's malice. And yet, paradoxically, it was through the creation of the Silmarils that Melkor finds his opportunity to work his vengence, as Helms points out.

It is this type of paradox that I find most interesting about Tolkien work, and can only really be explained through these words, from the Book of Job:

Quote:

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind:
"Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me.
"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.

Great post Voronwe. Lots of food for thought in there!

Thanks, Al.

Please note that I have split off an interesting suggestion that Tosh has made about this thread into a separate discussion thread HERE.

Voronwe wrote:

Quote:

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What Tolkien throughout The Silmarillion calls "fate" or "doom" really means the hidden will of Iluvator, controlling for good the destinies of all Arda and its overlords and inhabitants. Yet fate is not merely applied from outside a character; it is paradoxically the expression of his own free nature as that nature exists within Eru; for each character in The Silmarillion whether evil or good, stands before Iluvatar with both free will and the certainty that whatever he wills shall turn out, like the acts of Melkor, as but "part of the whole and tributary to its glory."

He then describes what he calls "The Second Law of Arda: the power of the oath, curse, or prophecy." As Helms points out, in Tolkien's secondary world, these things have real existence and power. Yet in the end they are really just a reflection of the will of Eru. He also describes what he calls the Third Law of Arda, the Law of Creativity. Helms points out that the inhabitants of Tolkien's world are filled with the urge to make and build, for both good and bad. And yet is this not just another manifestation or reflection of the will of Eru?

He indentifies the same paradox but apparantly gets no further than we do in a resolution.

Is it really free will if all manifestations of that will are already contained within Eru? If every possible outcome is already contained within his being? And all outcomes contribute to "part of the whole."

One of the unsolvable mysteries?
Or is it more like being tied on a huge length of rope which gives the illusion of freedom because it is so long, and yet it will still lead the character onto the path known only to Eru?

Is there choice involved for Feanor? Once he was filled with a new thought or some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near.?

Doesn't, or shouldn't, free will equate with the very possibility of not subscribing to Eru's "part of the whole and tributary to its glory"? If the opportunity does not exist for acts contrary to the thought and design of the creator, how can it be called free and not limited freedom of will?
Or conditional free will. (which is a contradiction in terms).

<wraps brain into knots once again>

Poor Sassy.

The only possible explanation is that of the Book of Job -- the ways of the Lord are beyond human understanding.

Wow. So many wonderful ideas and questions to consider. The musings on the significance of the light of the Two Trees (and therefore of the Silmarils themselves) have been particularly interesting, as has that continually resurfacing conundrum of free will and doom (hi Sass !!)

Piecing this response together from the fragments of notes on my hard drive has been a bit of a challenge (I think I have jumbled at least three different HoF posts together in my rather unique “filing system” over the past several weeks). Rather than keeping this thread stalled (thanks for waiting, Voronwe !), I’m just going to submit what I have written about “The Light of the Trees and the Silmarils”, and hope to God it makes some sort of sense. Those reading should also thank whatever gods they may that this is the "condensed version" of a much longer and definitely more rambling post.

Impenitent, your post exploring the idea of “light”, was an amazing read. It reminded me of the many ways which Tolkien uses references to light, most especially the “inner light” of the spirit that can, at times, be perceived by others. What I take to be the “angelic” aspects of both Frodo and Gandalf, the purity and strength of their spirit, is referred to a number of times in LOTR, as light shining from within.

Returning to a favourite theme of mine , there does seem to be significant importance given to the concept of duality in both the Sil and LOTR, and I believe that "light" (at least the “primal light” conceived and manifested by the Ainur) is another example of this. Instead of one great central pillar to hold the first light of Middle-earth, Aulë fashions two, and the first dwelling place of the Valar is on the Isle of Almaren “where the light of both the Lamps met and blended.” But although the light held within the Lamps is created by Varda and hallowed by Manwë, it has always seemed to me to be more like our own earthly light in its physical properties. It is created through a burning flame, like the light we are all accustomed to, and its end comes about as does the end of all natural earthly light: “burned out” after it cannot consume anything else to sustain it.

But the Light of the Trees is so different.

I think there’s something very important about the fact that the Two Trees are organic, living things. The very nature of their Light, along with its cyclical waxing and waning is so fundamentally different from our shared and familiar earthly experience. It is not based on planetary motion or reflective properties or physical reactions triggered by the combination of gases. It is based on cycles more akin to breath and blood and life itself. It pulses within the Trees, edging their leaves and infusing their flowers. And most extraordinarily, it finally manifests itself as “dew” and “rain” that gathers in shining pools, and sinks into the earth, and rises into the air; the same three fundamental elements of Arda, earth, air, and water, which will find their fate locked within the Silmarils. Unlike the light of the first lamps, that burns itself out and so is destroyed, the light of the Trees is devoured, like blood drained from a living body.

But just how is this light created through the Trees? What IS this light? Well, I think Impenitent’s idea of a "physical" manifestation of Eru within Arda is very close to my own conception. As I was reading her post, a passage from the Ainulindalë flashed into my mind: Ilúvatar speaking to the Ainur:
And I shall send forth into the Void the Flame Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall be.

Imagining the roots of the Two Trees reaching towards this center, this heart, is a lovely exercise. Drawing the incomprehensible force of creation upwards towards the hallowed earth and air of Aman to become “living light” with form and substance, the Trees are like sacred bridgeways between the very essence of Ilúvatar and the sub-created world of his thought.

The Trees are made of the living stuff of Arda, like Elves and Men. And like the beings of Arda, each is manifested as either male or female, balancing and complimenting the nature of the other.
It has always intrigued me that Tolkien chose to reverse the more traditional “genders” of mythological sources of light, with the warmer, golden Laurelin being feminine and the cooler, silvery Telperion being male. I remember being struck, probably the very first time I read LOTR, with the sun being referred to as “she” and the moon as “he”: it was so different from my own familiar cultural references.
I find it interesting that while the singular light of each Tree is loved and revered and gathered into “great vats like shining lakes”, it is their time of mingling that those in Aman hold dearest: twilight, in its original Middle English meaning of “two lights”.

I think that it is extremely important that the Silmarils are made to carry the blended light of both Trees. When one thinks about it, it may seem more “logical” to have two Silmarils rather than three, with each carrying the light of only one Tree. It is, after all, this singular light that will be carried later by the Sun and Moon. But Tolkien gives us three Silmarils, in which the “fates of Arda, earth, sea, and air” are locked: three jewels holding the three manifested substances of the light of the Trees: liquid, solid, vapor. And also within each, the two natures of that light: golden and silver, warm and cool, feminine and masculine. But the very essence of the “Three” and the “Two” is “One” - the Imperishable Flame of Ilúvatar. The sheer power and beauty of this construct is really quite staggering to me, as well as its scope. Thirty-five years ago, I first read Sam's words, ".......the Silmaril went on and came to Earendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We've got - you've got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales ever end?"

Imperishable, indeed.

Awesome post, Athrabeth!

Here's where the best analysis of Tolkien's work is. Right here.

Thanks, 'Beth. I'm sorry if I was too pushy.

I'm probably the only one who would have liked to have seen the full, long rambling post. But I am more then happy with what we got.

Well I'd take the long rambling post although I would probably only understand half of it.

Di and Alatar, thank-you so much for your kind responses. :cheers

Voronwe, my dear friend......many, many thanks for posing such compelling questions. You helped me see something beautiful and wondrous for the first time. And you well know that I can always do with a little push now and then.

Wilma..........you are such a sweetie!

I'll be back in a couple of days to begin the discussion on "The Darkening of Valinor".......................promise!

Oh but wait peeps, what about the whole thing with no hands unclean touching a Sil? What about the whole valar posibly bringing Melkor and the elves to the same place? I would post more but I am strapped for time.

Wilma wrote:

I wanted to ask what does everyone think of Varda Hallowing the Silmarils so that 'no mortal flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered'. Particularly including mortals. I sort of did not understand that part, including mortals with those of evil intentions toward a Silmaril

Those words have seemed like a puzzle to me as well, Wilma. Thanks for making me reconsider them with more focus to my thought.

I think the construction of the line can allow it to be misread as some kind of "curse", for lack of a better word at the moment. Sort of like, "If any mortal flesh or hands unclean or anything of evil will touches these jewels, they shall be scorched and withered." But Varda does not put a curse on the Silmarils at all. She consecrates them, and they become sacred: hallowed like the Trees and Light and air and earth and waters of Aman. They "formally" become the vessels containing Aman's holiness in its purest essence.

Mortals don't seem to fare so well whenever they get "up close and personal" with Aman, quickly withering "as moths in a light too strong and steadfast" (from the Akallabeth), unless they are afforded special grace. I would imagine that touching a truly pure form of that "light" would be perilous indeed for them. Varda does not hallow the Silmarils to purposefully cause this to happen, it is just the workings of the "residual fallout" of their profound holiness, IMO.

Wilma wrote:

Were the Valar so blinded by their desire to have the elves with them that did not realize they could put the elves under direct influence of Melkor?

In a word, yes.

I wish to say a few words about the latter part of this chapter, before we move on to the next (highly critical) chapter.

We've talked alot about the Silmarils, and the light of the trees that they preserve, but we have not talked much about the unrest of the Noldor. As Wilma pointed out earlier, the unrest of the Noldor is not directly related to the Silmarils, though they certainly play their part in it.

Tolkien's description of Melkor's sowing of lies is some of the most vivid descriptions of the working of evil in Tolkien's work (IMHO). He takes advantage not only of the pride and thirst for knowledge of the Noldor but also of the extreme naivete of the Valor that Wilma and Athrabeth have been discussing. It has always seemed to me that it was the Valar's failure to reveal their knowledge of the coming of Men that enabled Melkor to successfully drive a wedge between them and the Noldor.

But Melkor's greatest success was more personal. With the description of the feud that Melkor sparked between Feanor and Fingolfin, Tolkien finally descends far enough from the lofty tone of book thus far to reflect dynamic human relationships. Its easy to focus on Feanor's conduct, but there is a passive-aggressive element to Fingolfin's actions that I find particularly fascinating.

Whoa. What a chapter.

I’m so sorry that it’s taken such a ridiculously long time for me to begin its discussion, but along with a chronically ill computer and RL commitments that have taken up a good portion of my time, I really have had a most difficult time putting into words (at least, coherent words) my thoughts on what unfolds within these “mere” four pages of text. After many, many starts and stops, I think I’ve finally rustled up some kind of meaningful post, which I hope will stand as a beginning point for others to add to, because I got rather fixated, I’m afraid, on a very specific aspect of the chapter, and so have not addressed all that could be discussed!

In the Valaquenta, Tolkien wrote:

He began with the desire of Light, but when he could not possess it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness. And darkness he used most in his evil works upon Arda, and filled it with fear for all living things."

Up until now, Melkor’s evil and malice have been either remotely “high and grand”, befitting his name and station as “He Who Arises in Might” (the marring of an entire world is pretty impressive, after all); or low, and even mundane – the covetous and duplicitous liar who takes advantage of the less noble aspects of human (or rather, “Elvish”) nature. But now, Melkor’s character finally becomes defined and set as the Morgoth in this chapter, the “Black Enemy” of Light and all that it symbolizes in Tolkien’s world: the purity and blessedness of life, creation, hope, love, and mercy. I’ve always thought of his attack on the Two Trees as an act of premeditated murder, but not until this reading have I ever really considered the fact that he was unable to do this alone. The greatest of the Ainur, who could cast down the mountains and reshape the seas of Arda, who could destroy the great lamps of Iluin and Ormal, whose domination of Middle Earth caused his brethren to depart it forever and allowed him to dictate the course of so much of the histories of Elves and Men……this awesome being requires an accomplice to destroy the sacred Light of Valinor and steal away its only surviving manifestation as the heart of the Silmarils.

An accomplice........ at least, that’s how I had always thought of Ungoliant: a powerful and fearsome henchman, much like the other spirits and beings that Melkor corrupted and seduced into his service. But having re-thought her character and its role in light of this, my “dualism theme” reading of the Sil , the symbolic nature and purpose of Ungoliant have changed, or rather, clarified, signifigantly for me.

Just what is Ungoliant? I think that I have always considered her as “different”, as something of a shadowy enigma, much like Tom Bombadil’s character in LOTR (although on opposite ends of the Tolkien spectrum). I’m sure that there are very sound arguments in favour of her being one of the Maiar, but that designation has never felt "right" to me somehow, and I note that in the essays and discussions of her origins that I have been able to access, there is no definitive answer to her place within Tolkien’s created world.

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The Eldar knew not whence she came; but some have said that in ages long before she descended from the darkness that lies about Arda when Melkor first looked down in envy upon the Kingdom of Manwë

It’s almost as if Ungoliant is born, or at least becomes manifest, at the very moment of Melkor’s first view of what the Ainur had accomplished within Arda in his absence; that the envy and lust and malice that he feels towards the purity of their bliss and the beauty of their creations somehow unleashes this force, this being, that will become the “Gloomweaver”. To me she can be viewed almost as a separate physical embodiment of his darkest characteristics, like a perverse female yin quality born as some kind of hideous compliment to his own driving yang force.

Both “hunger” for light, but in different ways: Melkor desiring to unlock its mysteries and master its unfathomable power, and Ungoliant desperate to consume it in order to fill the terrible emptiness that is the core of her being (she really does remind me of a junkie looking for the ultimate fix). Both desire absolute mastery over their existence, and in their solitude, in their total rejection of the company and influence of others, develop singular egos of horrific proportion. If Melkor “corrupted Ungoliant to his service” in the beginning, it is certainly something more than a “servant” that he finds when he comes to Avathar. She is not cowed by his form as a “dark Lord, tall and terrible” nor wholly persuaded by the terrible temptation to feed on the Light of the Trees, and Melkor must court her with the promise of giving her “whatsoever thy lust may demand”.

I use the word “court” here because this is close to what I feel is happening during Melkor’s and Ungoliant’s “deal-making”. Upon this reading, I was reminded of a passage in the Valaquenta about Manwe and Varda, and how, when together, each achieves greater power than when alone; how they draw from each other and share with each other, and become “more” because of this:

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When Manwe there ascends his throne and looks forth, if Varda is beside him, he sees further than all other eyes, through mist, and through darkness, and over the leagues of the sea. And if Manwe is with her, Varda hears more clearly than all other ears the sound of voices that cry from east to west, from the hills and the valleys, and from the dark places that Melkor has made upon Earth.

Within that same paragraph in the Valaquenta, Tolkien also tells us that Melkor courted Varda long before the making of the Music and that she "rejected him, and he hated her, and feared her more than all others whom Eru made." It is somehow so fitting (in a dark and twisted way) that now Melkor turns to the “devourer of light” rather than the “kindler of light” to be his (albeit temporary) “consort”, willing to endure a somewhat equal partnership in order to achieve his goal. Interestingly, I think this is how Ungoliant views the relationship as well: a marriage of convenience, with each partner coldly calculating the ultimate usefulness of the other. Like a stained and corrupted version of Manwe and Varda, Melkor and Ungoliant together become a greater force, a terrible power capable of accomplishing what each alone cannot.

And what a horrifically memorable couple they make! The image of these two monstrous beings, wrapped in webs of darkness, looking down upon the Blessed Realm, instantly resonated with me from my first reading, like Thingol and Melian’s enchantment, or Húrin’s desperate last stand, or Maedhros’ agonizing imprisonment (to name just a few that immediately come to mind!). It is such an iconic moment – the “deep breath before the plunge” that will not only mark the greatest of the great crimes committed upon Arda , but will also set the course for the proceeding histories of all its inhabitants.

I find it interesting that the actual attack upon the Trees takes place at the moment of their Light’s mingling; the moment of greatest beauty and joy and blessedness for all within Aman. It is also, of course, during a time of thanksgiving, a celebration of the rich abundance of life upon Arda, which Manwë deems can also be a time of healing for the strife between the Noldor. A master of symbolism, Tolkien sets the stage for the opposite nature of all these elements to become dominant upon the Trees’ destruction: light becomes darkness, beauty becomes ugliness, joy becomes despair, blessedness becomes defilement, celebration becomes mourning, and Life becomes Death. This, I believe is the ultimate purpose of Melkor’s and Ungoliant’s pairing: the manifestation of “Death the Hunter”, of “Darkness Inescapable” upon the Earth.

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In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, and to enter the heart and mind, and strangle the very will.

This is not the darkness under the stars that the Elves awoke to, nor is it any kind of darkness that is found in the natural world. It is something wholly new that is born into the world, as Melkor was born of Iluvatar’s thought, and Ungoliant was born of Melkor’s hatred and envy, and it will become a central symbol enveloped within all of Tolkien’s works. It is sadly telling and chillingly foreboding that the “first light that returned to Valinor” is “the fire that was stricken from the hooves of Nahar” as the host of Oromë sets out on their futile pursuit: light that is neither joyful or blessed, but tainted with wrath and tinged with righteousness.

Let the tragedy begin.

Thanks for starting the discussion on this chapter, 'Beth. As you know, I've been chomping at the bit to talk about it, but its so much more pleasant to have a discussion then to engage in a monologue.

I have always been fascinated by Ungoliant. I consider her to be one of Tolkien's most interesting "characters" (she is of course not really a character but symbol). Her introduction is one of the most memorable passages for me, the words just ooze of the page was with utter sense of deep, slimy darkness. I quote at length:

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Thus unseen he [Melkor] came at last to the dark region of Avathar. That narrow land lay south of the Bay of Eldamar, beneath the eastern feet of the Pelori, and its long and mournful shores stretched away into the south, lightless and unexplored. There, beneath the sheer walls of the mountains and the cold dark sea, the shadows were deepest and thickest in the world; and there in Avathar, secret and unknown, Ungoliant had made her abode. The Eldar knew not whence she came; but some have said that in ages long before she descended from the darkness that lies about Arda when Melkor first looked down in envy upon the Kingdom of Manwë, and that in the beginning she was one of those that he corrupted to his service. But she had disowned her Master, desiring to be mistress of her own lust, taking all things to herself to feed her emptiness; and she fled to the south, the assaults of the Valar and the huters of Orome, for their vigilance had ever been to the north, and the south was long unheeded. Thence she had crept towards the light of the Blessed Realm; for she hungered for light and hated it.

In a ravine she lived, and took shape as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black webs in a cleft of the mountains. There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to her abode; and she was famished.

What an evocative passage! And I am struck always when I read either this passage or the passage in LOTR about Shelob by how closely the relationship of Melkor and Ungoliant is mirrored by that of Sauron and Shelob.

One of the most interesting concepts is that she was considered to be "descended from the darkness" that lies about Arda. Descended from the darkness. This idea of darkness as something in and of itself, and not just simply the lack of light repeats itself in reverse at the end of the chapter, when "Ungoliant belched forth black vapors", causing "a Darkness that was more thean loss of light ... a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, and to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will."

There is something deeply disturbing about this concept of darkness being self-generating. As 'Beth points out, Ungoliant was born of the darkness that came from Melkor's fall. But she in turn has the ability to generate a whole new darkness that had existence in and of itself. And coincident with that creation was the destruction of the holy light of the Trees that we have been discussing. That destruction was more or less permanent (except for the light preserved in the Silmarils), at least until the Dagor Dagorlad. Thus is the power of this darkness shown.

Equally apparent is the continued incredible naivete demonstrated by the Valar. Melkor's malice has been laid bear so that even Manwe can see it. And yet no watch is left during this time of festival to look for an attack by their enemy. The Valar's lack of capacity to conceive of and anticipate evil is truly extraordinary

I have nothing to add, but be assured that I am reading along and enjoying this immensely!

Alatar

First of all. Why a spider?

Why are we so fascinated with the dark characters? Melkor, Ungoliant? Is it fear or is it that we are similtaneously drawn and repulsed by that awful, left-handed power?

I've been thinking about Ungoliant for days ... thinking about her greed and her ability to devour light. Her need which, if I may say so, goes far beyond any analogy of a junkie's craving. It is a necessity. She cannot exist without consuming light and in fact, eventually, deprived of light she does starve.

The light of the Two Trees, no mere morsel, will surely sustain her for a considerable time.

What is her nature? (Is it meaningful that she is a she and not an it or a he?) Is she the complimentary Yin to Melkor's Yang as Ath suggests? I don't think of her darkness as the opposite of light. It is denser than that ... more like a black hole which crushes and annihilates light transforming it into molecular darkness.

... and that in the beginning she was one of those that he corrupted to his service. But she had disowned her Master, desiring to be Mistress of her own lust ...

Is she a spawn of Melkor's evil? Or perhaps, as I think possible, an evil that was born (of Iluvatar's thought) concurrent with Melkor's fall from grace. That is, the fall made other dark manifestations possible. It is telling that she begins as being *corrupted* which indicates that she was an independant spirit (independant from Melkor) and that her nature was not altogether evil in the beginning .... that which is wholly evil does not need to be corrupted. Unless ... (thinking out loud here) Tolkien intends corrupted to be taken as seduced as in Melkor seduced Ungoliant into his service.

The relationship between these two seems more like synergy rather than master/servant. He desires to destroy and dominate the creations of the Valar and she desires survival and the temporary satiation of the light. As equals, they each need the other to acheive this. I find it interesting that, in the end

... and going to the Wells of Varda she drank them dry; but Ungoliant
belched forth black vapours as she drank, and swelled to a shape so vast and hideous that Melkor was afraid.

If she wasn't of maiar then she must have been of at least equal power; the webs she wove confused and confounded the Valar and Tulkas <snip> stood powerless and beat the air in vain.

Voronwe wrote:

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The Valar's lack of capacity to conceive of and anticipate evil is truly extraordinary.

The word naive comes to mind.
Actually I find the Valar quite the contradiction. On the one hand they are both good and powerful and on the other they make some extrodinarily short-sighted decisions. Or fail to act at all, until after the damage is done.

Wisdom, apparantly, is not among their attributes.

Sassafras wrote:

First of all. Why a spider?

That's certainly as good a place as any to start. In some African cultures, spiders are considered to be symbols of wisdom, or at least cleverness. Ananzi the spider is a common trickster character in West African folktales. So it is very interesting that Ungoliant (and Shelob) is a manifestation of the exactly the opposite of the clever trickster. Ananzi is small and tricky, uses his cleverness to fool many larger, more powerful forces. In contrast, Ungoliant is huge and overpowering; the web of deceit that she weaves is very un-subtle.

But Tolkien had his own experience with a spider to draw upon. According to Humphrey Carpenter's biography, while still an infant in South Africa, just as he was learning to walk, Tolkien encountered a tarantula in his family’s garden. As many people know, tarantulas are no ordinary spiders: they can be almost as large as an adult’s hand, and are usually hairy. They live in holes they dig underground. They bite with two huge fangs, pumping a poison into their prey that can liquefy the guts of insects and smaller animals. And, though tarantulas don’t commonly bite people, they’ll do so if accidentally disturbed or if touched by, say, a curious infant. That’s just what Tolkien’s spider did. Tolkien “ran in terror across the garden until the nurse picked him up and sucked out the poison,” Carpenter says. “When he grew up he could remember a hot day and running in fear through long, dead grass” (Tolkien by H. Carpenter, 13; see also Letter, Letter 163).

Tolkien denied having a particular fear of spiders, even after this incident (unlike Peter Jackson, who admits to being terrified of them). Still, its not hard to imagine why the image of the huge, poisonous spider was such a potent one for him.

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Why are we so fascinated with the dark characters? Melkor, Ungoliant? Is it fear or is it that we are similtaneously drawn and repulsed by that awful, left-handed power?

I think it is Tolkien who is fascinated with dark characters. Or rather, his dark characters are much more fascinating then his good characters. Again, this is perhaps not so surprising, given his early history (the death of his father, and then his mother, and then the horror of WWI and the deaths of almost all of his close friends). I also think that the type of abstract, symbolic characters that Tolkien generall are more interesting when they are dark then when they are good. There are many levels of darkness. In some sense, good is just good.

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I've been thinking about Ungoliant for days ... thinking about her greed and her ability to devour light. Her need which, if I may say so, goes far beyond any analogy of a junkie's craving. It is a necessity. She cannot exist without consuming light and in fact, eventually, deprived of light she does starve.

The light of the Two Trees, no mere morsel, will surely sustain her for a considerable time.

What is her nature? (Is it meaningful that she is a she and not an it or a he?) Is she the complimentary Yin to Melkor's Yang as Ath suggests? I don't think of her darkness as the opposite of light. It is denser than that ... more like a black hole which crushes and annihilates light transforming it into molecular darkness.

... and that in the beginning she was one of those that he corrupted to his service. But she had disowned her Master, desiring to be Mistress of her own lust ...

Is she a spawn of Melkor's evil? Or perhaps, as I think possible, an evil that was born (of Iluvatar's thought) concurrent with Melkor's fall from grace. That is, the fall made other dark manifestations possible. It is telling that she begins as being *corrupted* which indicates that she was an independant spirit (independant from Melkor) and that her nature was not altogether evil in the beginning .... that which is wholly evil does not need to be corrupted. Unless ... (thinking out loud here) Tolkien intends corrupted to be taken as seduced as in Melkor seduced Ungoliant into his service.

Sass, I think you are on to something with the idea her being an evil born concurrent with Melkor's fall from grace. I don't really think of Ungoliant as having been seduced into Melkor's services the way that Sauron was. I have always thought of her evil as all her own, rather then flowing from Melkor as is the case with his servents. So I agree with both you and Ath, although I've never quite framed in such a Yin/Yang way.

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Voronwe wrote:

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The Valar's lack of capacity to conceive of and anticipate evil is truly extraordinary.

The word naive comes to mind.
Actually I find the Valar quite the contradiction. On the one hand they are both good and powerful and on the other they make some extrodinarily short-sighted decisions. Or fail to act at all, until after the damage is done.

Wisdom, apparantly, is not among their attributes.

Surely that is not Tolkien's intention? Certainly the Valar are to be consider wise. Yet Tolkien could not have been unaware of how curiously ineffective they could be. So what was his intention in presenting them in this way? Or was this just a product of the story that he was telling?