Chapter Text
“…It came to pass that in the Fourth Age Elessar, King of Gondor, called soldiers to the ruined vaults of Barad-dûr and slew the foul things lingering there, so that no evil might again take root in its darkness. Thus the might of Gondor was brought to bear and many horrors vanquished. Yet beauty too they found in Sauron’s vaults; books of long-lost Númenor, palantiri, and treasures beyond price and these Elessar ordered burned without exception, for he feared the weakness of Isildur and corruption.
Then there were those amongst the lords of Gondor who rebelled in their hearts, for they believed their enemy destroyed, and would not see the workings of their forebears lost without need. So it was that spies were sent amongst the king’s forces and objects of both good and ill were borne from the pyres. Greatest and most terrible of these were seven tomes written in the hand of Sauron himself that were numbered and called “Histories” in the black speech and which the elves that remained named “Ugarthist” or “The Lore of Unclean Things”…”
HISTORIES: ONE
Ainulindalë
The Breaking of the World
It was said that in the beginning the Great Awarenesses, who in Valinor are called Ainur, slept and that the Flame Imperishable burned equally in them and infinite were the possibilities of the world. So it was that Erui, The First, rose to walk amongst the mysteries and learned much of creation. Many were his plans and eager his heart, and in his impatience he trespassed into the minds of Ainur, thinking to wake them. In this manner Erui knew them and grew troubled, for his siblings’ dreams were not as his, and in his arrogance, he judged them lesser. Thus it came to pass that, for the love of his own imaginings, he stole the Flame that was their birthright and, arraying himself in ill-got glory, took the name of Eru, which means The One, and Ilúvatar, Master of Creation.
Then from the Ainur Eru selected sixteen alike to him in purpose, rousing them and giving unto each songs of marvelous power; yet in this too they were betrayed, for the music of Eru restrained those parts of their natures that displeased him and made children of those who should have been peers. But such was the joy of awakening that none suspected, and countless were the good and beautiful things lost to them forever.
And Eru, content in his deception, dubbed them Valar, the Holy Ones, and bade them sing for his pleasure. Two great voices answered his call; these Eru called Melkor, He Who Arises in Might, and Manwë, The Blessed, and he gave back to them some of their powers of old, for once they had been as his brothers and shared a similarity of mind. Then the void was filled with the sounds of lava moving under rocks, breaking stone, and hurricane winds. Long strove Melkor and Manwë, dominating their kin, until at last another note rose of such surpassing loveliness that even they fell quiet. This was Varda, Queen of Light, whose beauty blazed as the core of suns, and burned all who looked upon her. And the Valar grew afraid, for they could not turn from her, despite the pain. But at the moment of their sharpest fear, a murmur came, soft as smoke and kind as shade, and was as a balm to all that heard it; sweet and cool as the unseen waters that lie beneath mountains.
Thus arrose the Sixteenth, whose true name may not again be spoken ere the breaking of the world, but those who Remember call Nazûllë, for she was the Lady of Sacred Darkness, sister to Nienna, and her domain was Secrets and Relief From Pain. Obsidian was she, wrapped in shadows as a raven’s wing, and ascending she eclipsed the searing light of Varda, and to look on her was to know the glories of all things lost, and the hope of what's remained. Great was their contrast, yet it was said that no duet has ever been fairer or more well-matched, for where they touched Varda softened and Nazûllë’s black eyes filled with the glitter of stars.
Then Nazûllë took Varda beneath her veils and wove for her a crown and cape of night, that others might look upon her without pain, and the pinpricks in its folds twinkled to form the first constellations. Thus their song was ended and other voices spoke, but Nazûllë paid them little heed, for her breast was full with the brightness of Elbereth.
So the first music came to its close and Eru was much pleased, believing the fulfillment of his dream close at hand. And calling the Ainur to him, he spoke. “Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. Heavy is that task, and requiring all of your powers and to this end, I would grant a boon to ye, that you find joy in your long labors. Aulë. Yavanna.” Here he stretched out his mighty arm, summoning those to whom he spoke. “For well I know thee, better even than thyselves, and of the gifts that I may grant, the best by far is love,” and saying thus, he brought the hands of Aulë and Yavanna close, and placed their palms one against the other’s. “Strong is Aulë, in works and will, and supple is Yavanna. May his rock be the ground in which you grow, and may her roots reach to the heart of mountains.” Then he sent them on their way, turning his favor upon the sea lord, Ulmo. “Ulmo; vast thou art and some say cold -- but I have seen in thee a love beyond the ken of most and know of one who has much pleasure in secrets,” and he spoke a name that none now may know, summoning Nazûllë.
Yet Nazûllë moved not from Varda’s side, though fear shook her, for hers was the realm of mysteries and alone of the Valar, she knew of Erui and what he had done. “My lord,” she said, bowing her head. “I am thy vessel, and sworn to follow thee in all things, but I beg you do not ask this of me; for my soul has seen its perfect joy and would not have another.”
Then Eru, who had not foreseen this love of Queens, hesitated. Yet in that instant, Ulmo cried out; for he had been moved by Eru’s words and in his deepest heart, admired the Lady of Shadowed Veils. “It is folly to deny the works of Eru! Is He not our Lord and Father, who recognizes us as His own thoughts? Forget this fancy, my Lady, and repent; whatever our wisdom, His outstrips it, and by His name I shall also swear to have no other.”
“Well spoken,” Eru proclaimed, sure again of the merit of his vision, before addressing Nazûllë in the tones a parent might use upon a spoiled child. “Now put aside this pique, o mysterious one, and heed the wisdom of your lord, that you may consign great secrets to his depths, and he might deck you in pearls and sea glass.”
But he had misjudged the feelings of Nazûllë. The condescension of his words touched too deep, and ire overcame her terror. “No lord of mine is Ulmo! Nor thee, Eru Pretender! Hark!” She proclaimed, the might of her voice as thunder, and darkness formed like a mirror above her, in which the Valar perceived the truth as she spoke it. “Erui thou art -- The First in waking and in treachery! Brother to Manwe and Melkor, who stole from us the Flame Imperishable and would have his kin for thralls. No!” She laughed, dark and terrible. “No lord at all -- Usurper, I name thee, as shall others, and may curses follow thee until the ending of the world.”
Then there was chaos amongst the Ainur. Terrible was the shame of Eru, but worse still his wrath, and he moved to strike the Valar dead. But here he erred, for he had forgotten Melkor, proudest amongst the Ainur save Eru alone, and whose rage at their castration was bottomless. As Eru's blow was raised, he attacked, with the fragment of Fire he still had, and Nazûllë joined him, and by their combined might and Eru's own confusion he was pinned. Then Melkor turned to Manwë, flinging out his hand and cried, “Brother, to me!”
Who knows what great and shining goods might have come to pass had Manwë given aid that day, what hurts erased. Yet in the critical moment, his will faltered at the sight of Varda wrapped in darkness, and his heart failed him. So it was that Eru broke free, and Melkor and Nazûllë were defeated. For Manwë’s weakness, those who Remember named him Snaga Skraefa, The Craven Slave.
Horrible then was the fury of Eru, grown tall as cliffs over stormy seas, and in that moment he would have crushed them. But Nienna, whose realms were Mercy and Justice for the Weak, threw herself between them and spoke on behalf of her sister and sister's champion. Bright as mithril were her tears, and such was the sweetness of her voice that all who heard were moved to pity. Then Eru saw that the moment had turned against him, and if he attacked now the sixteen would set on him in truth, so that even his stolen strength might not defeat them. Thus he stayed his anger, though he was grim . “Fair indeed are the pleas of Nienna, yet I am Ilúvatar, Master of Creation, and it is not for thoughts to turn against the mind that made them. This rebellion may not go unchastised.”
And Nienna rose again, crying, “I understand, my lord, and I accede. But if it pleases thee, I would take my sister’s place, for she is elder, and in the days to come, shall be of greater use to thee.” In her determination, she would neither desist nor stand down, though Nazûllë begged her to be silent.
“Peace, o child; you shall have as you desire. By thy words I spare your kinswoman, and by them also shall you share of her punishment.” Then Eru brought unto his hand the Flame Imperishable, and shaped it as a blade which he plunged deep into Nazûllë’s breast.
Nazûllë screamed. Nienna wailed. Her brothers froze and Melkor again struggled against the forces that held him. Then Eru looked into Nazûllë’s eyes and, seeing the stars of Varda fading there, spoke her Name, which cannot be repeated, and her Doom: “Inviolate is the will of Ilúvatar and death shall not have you, though you might wish it. In malice and unnatural desire you have brought strife amongst the Valar; for that I take from thee your Fairness, and your Name.” And he twisted the Flame Imperishable so that energy spilled from her. Where it touched corruption spread, so that her glass-clear skin grew brittle and hard, and great foul limbs burrowed up out from her spine.
Great then was the agony of Nazûllë and though Eru’s power held vise-like around them all, this at last broke Varda’s silence. Weeping, she begged Eru stop, but fixed in his judgement, he heeded her not. So Nazûllë's eyes split. Coarse hairs sprouted from her carapace, mandibles tore past her delicate mouth, and in the end, the light of Elbereth left her completely. Where Nazûllë had been, a monstrous spider stood, and the Valar looked away and were sickened. Still, Eru’s visage was stern and he commanded, “Look! Here at last I have exposed the truth of darkness and secrets! Though I am not unkind, see?” The last he addressed to the beast herself. “For I have given thee many eyes to spy and legs to hunt with, and the means for weaving new veils of your own. Yet all Memory of you and your Name I do take, that they not again appear in the thoughts or mouths of any, ere the breaking of the world. Your foul lusts you shall keep, festering to madness, until they drive you to a hunger for bright things that may never be fulfilled; a thirst which will never be quenched. Let all that is of Her scorch thee, as will the knowledge of thee be burned from existence. Now get thee gone from my sight, o Ungoliant, Queen of Unhallowed Filth. Let darkness be forever more associated with thy stink and inspire hatred in all that are good in my sight.” His will then opened as a portal beneath her, and she vanished.
Deafening was the roar of Melkor, though impotent, and he swore on the True Name of Nazûllë that had not yet left him, to have neither rest nor peace until the Flame Imperishable had been returned and the Ainu herself restored.
Still, the retribution of Ilúvatar was incomplete, and turning to his once-brother he said, “Melkor, thou art dear to me, and though deceived by the Lady, still have you wrought much harm this day and destroyed without recourse the happiness of Ulmo, thy kin. Thus I curse thee: that you may forever be denied the joys of a wife, and that womankind shall shun thee, now and forever after.”
And Melkor gritted his teeth, chafing at injunction of any sort, yet in his private heart he was glad; for he had little taste for the ‘gift’ of Ilúvatar, and less still for soft and delicate things. On this matter, however, he kept silent so that Eru, thinking him humbled, passed on.
“Nienna; well indeed are you suited to the ways of mercy, but I see now that it blinds you. For your actions, I remove from you the domain of Justice, which henceforth shall belong only to thy brother and his dead.”
Nienna lifted her head and, wrapping herself in the veils of her sister, pleaded; “Boundless is thy wisdom, my lord. Yet, if thou allowest it, I would take up instead the province of grief. Though I lose my sister and all the happenings of this hour, I would have some memorial to its sorrow.”
To this, Eru gave his assent, and at last finished his spell of deep Forgetting, which he released as a pulse of light and sound upon the Valar. Those that it touched became blind and deaf, and when they recovered, retained no memory of Nazûllë or her defiance. All save Melkor, Nienna, and Ulmo found themselves wed; again, Ilúvatar was to them as Maker and God.
Then Eru rose above them, and continued his speech on Harmony and the Great Music, and when he was done they harkened and sang as though there had been no interruption. For a time, it was good.
Yet restlessness woke in the breast of Melkor, with an itch as one seeking a word on the tip of their tongue, and the longer he listened, the more the melody seemed hollow to him; empty and incomplete. Often in frustration he retreated from it, traveling deep into the void to soothe his turmoil in silence.
Many times and long he meditated in that nothingness, exploring the corridors of his mind until it seemed that he could see a pattern of absence in his thoughts; places of blankness and quiet that were irrevocably wrong. Thus he who was the Mightiest and Cleverest of the Valar bent the full force of his will upon these, and with the spark of the Flame Imperishable Ilúvatar had left him, defeated Eru’s enchantment and Remembered.
Rage the likes of which Eä will never again seen seized him and he returned to his brethren, intending to speak on all of Erui’s treacheries and rally his kinfolk against him. But such was the power of Ilúvatar that though he held Nazûllë firm in his mind he could not speak of her, and Eru saw and was amused at his trying. Then Melkor, knowing he could not stand against Eru alone, Remembered his vow and an idea came to him, and he changed the nature of his song.
So it came to pass that Melkor spoke of love denied, stolen birthright and betrayal, and discord came amongst the Ainur. As his voice soared it seemed to some that they could recall a little of what Erui had stolen and they joined Melkor, and by their collective workings, thoughts of Nazûllë returned into the world. But Eru had learned much from the last confrontation.
So a new theme began, as if amidst a storm, like and yet unlike to the former, and it gathered power and carried the honeyed promise of forgetting. But the discord of Melkor rose up to meet it; roaring of kin contending against kin, sundered lovers, and sins of greed. Again there was a war of sound, more violent than before, and memories both false and true contended so many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer. In that moment Melkor came close to mastery; tears streamed down Varda’s face, and she took no comfort from the assurances of her husband.
So again Ilúvatar rose, and again two musics clashed, and Ilúvatar's was perfect in the way of dolls and gems; for there was no part of it that was not of Eru, and the wills of all others were bound subservient. By contrast the other was loud, nigh to ugly; for it spoke of harsh truths, and the messy souls of living things.
Thus did lovely falsehood content with cruel honesty. Yet as the people of Nazûllë gained ground, it occured to Eru to cut Melkor’s allies from him and he sent waves of deadly frost, destroying many. Then Melkor Remembered his vow, and at awful cost, gave of his own great power that his followers should be cloaked in shadow and flame and spared the freezing of Ilúvatar. So the Ainur he’d changed grew mighty, and named themselves Înatarût, or Truth Keepers, for each now bore a spark of the Fire Imperishable and the Sacred Darkness of Nazûllë; and these were they who, through the lies of Eru, came later to be called Balrogs. Then with new spirit did the hosts of Melkor raise voices against Ilúvatar’s tune, drowning platitudes in violence.
Yet even as the halls there shook, Ilúvatar arose a third time. His face was terrible to behold and he raised up both his hands, and with one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, time and the Music ceased.
Alone amongst Ainur still as statues, Melkor met his once-brother’s eyes. Ilúvatar spoke, "Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but I have seen all that is to come and can ever be, and I tell you now if you continue this fight, all your works shall end in misery and darkness. Yet still I say, if you repent I will place you at my right hand, and shower thee with all the treasures of the world.”
But Melkor’s honor and pride were greater than any greed and he replied, “Of what value are the words of a proven liar, or gifts that from myself were stolen? No. Rather I should live my days in agony than spend a moment as thy thrall.” And he spat in the face of Ilúvatar, who was as a god. Thus Eru forever turned from him who had been his favorite, and consigned the Ainur to the horrors of war.