I think I know when Mithrellas left Imrazôr the Numenorean. Nothing happens in Tolkien without a reason. Regardless of what elements Tolkien utilized in his story-telling, he always made sure that his characters took action for a reason. And if Mithrellas was going to leave Imrazôr before he died, there had to be some compelling reason for her to do so. Elves didn’t marry just on a whim. Mithrellas had to have found a soulmate in Imrazôr.
The story of Mithrellas and Imrazôr has often been overlooked by Tolkien’s readers. We first learn a piece of that tale when Legolas meets Imrahil in Minas Tirith. Legolas bows before Imrahil and greets him as a descendant of Elves, a fact that Imrahil acknowledges. Imrahil’s ancestry is finally explained in Unfinished Tales, where we are told that a handmaiden of the Elven lady Nimrodel had become separated from her mistress. That handmaiden, Mithrellas, is Imrahil’s foremother. The story is repeated and expanded in The Peoples of Middle-earth.
In the tradition of his house Angelimir was the twentieth in unbroken descent from Galador, first lord of Dol Amroth (c. T.A. 2004-2129). According to the same traditions Galador was the son of Imrazôr the Numenorean who dwelt in Belfalas, and the Elven-lady Mithrellas. She was one of the companions of Nimrodel, among many of the Elves of Lorien that fled to the coast about T.A. 1980, when evil arose in Moria; and Nimrodel and her maidens strayed in the wooded hills, and were lost. But in this tale it is said that Imrazôr harboured Mithrellas, and took her to wife. But when she had borne him a son, Galador, and a daughter, Gilmith, she slipped away by night, and he saw her no more. But though Mithrellas was of the lesser Silvan race (and not of the High Elves or the Grey) it was ever held that the house and kin of the Lords of Dol Amroth were noble by blood, as they were fair in face and mind.
In so few words, we are told so much. Or, rather, we are given so much to look for. That is, the whole story is summarized there, like a brief plot synopsis for a movie or book being sold on the basis of a writer’s reputation. This note is exemplary of Tolkien’s method of introducing a story or legend as an aside which would, ultimately, take on a life of its own. Of course, people will be quick to point out that we are never told a fuller version of the tale. Well, yes and no. Tolkien was careful to weave his little tales into the greater fabric. He didn’t write a great tragedy about Imrazôr and Mithrellas, but most of the pieces were put into place.
Let’s go back and examine another story, the tale of Earendil. Earendil’s voyage to Aman is one of the oldest traditions in the Tolkien legendarium. Even before readers tread breathlessly in Bilbo’s footsteps down that long tunnel in Erebor, Tolkien knew without a doubt that Earendil was a Half-elven mariner whose fate was bound up with a Silmaril.
Fifty years ago, the story of Imrahil’s family was about as likely to be published as was the tale of Earendil. That is, not likely at all. Tolkien had demanded that Allen & Unwin give him a firm answer on whether they would publish The Silmarillion together with The Lord of the Rings. Already daunted by the size and scope of LoTR, Allen & Unwin declined. So Tolkien turned to Collins (now HarperCollins, which has since gobbled up the company that succeeded Allen & Unwin).
Tolkien had a friend at Collins in publisher Milton Waldman, but Waldman had troubles of his own. Due to an illness and Waldman’s travel schedule, Collins never actually offered Tolkien a contract. In 1951, Waldman asked Tolkien to write a letter “demonstrating that The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion were interdependent and indivisible”.
In retrospect, we can see some connections, but it’s a long stretch to say that one must read The Silmarillion in order to grasp the concept of The Lord of the Rings. It’s nice to know what Elrond is talking about when he says Frodo would rank alongside Hurin and Turin (although that is really a dubious honor, in some ways). But the reader doesn’t need to know more about Hurin and Turin to understand that Elrond was paying a great tribute to Frodo.
And Aragorn’s tale of Tinuviel on the slope of Weathertop is enchanting, but he does give enough of the sense of the story for the reader to understand it. Later, we learn that Arwen is likened to Tinuviel by her people, and that Aragorn’s love for her is similar to Beren’s love for Tinuviel. But we don’t need The Silmarillion to understand that something special was going on between Aragorn and Arwen.
What we need The Silmarillion for is to satisfy the craving that Tolkien excites within his readers for more stories, more tales, when he drops bits and glimpses of the “past” behind his stories. He engages in constant salesmanship. “I will tell you this story, which is related to that story, now. We’ll listen to that story later on.” Does this technique sound familiar? It’s a very ancient practice, utilized by Homer, the Beowulf poet, Snorri Sturleson, and Sir Richard Burton (translator of The Arabian Nights, which undoubtedly utilized the technique in its original form).
The story-teller can make allusions to tales the audience already knows, but the story-teller may also be setting up the audience’s anticipation for the next story. Tolkien loved to do this. He kept promising his readers more and more, and in doing so he created that illusion of depth which would ultimately defeat his efforts to produce a true Silmarillion. Always compelled to reveal more and more about Middle-earth by his earlier revelations, Tolkien wandered down tangential track after tangential track.
In the letter for Waldman, Tolkien fell into the same trap (or laid it, yet falling into it just the same). In passing he mentions
There are other stories almost equally full in treatment, and equally independent and yet linked to the general history. There is the Children of Hurin, the tragic tale of Turin Turambar and his sister Niniel — of which Turin is the hero: a figure that might be said (by people who like that sort of thing, though it is not very useful) to be derived from elements in Sigurd the Volsung, Oedipus, and the Finnish Kullervo. There is the Fall of Gondolin: the chief Elvish stronghold. And the tale, or tales, of Earendil the Wanderer. He is important as the person who brings the Silmarillion to its end, and as providing in his offspring the main links to and persons in the tales of later Ages. His function, as a representative of both Kindreds, Elves and Men, is to find a sea-passage back to the Land of the Gods, and as ambassador persuade them to take thought again for the Exiles, to pity them, and to rescue them from the Enemy. His wife Elwing descends from Luthien and still possesses the Silmaril. But the curse still works, and Earendil’s home is destroyed by the sons of Feanor. But this provides the solution: Elwing casting herself into the Sea to save the Jewel comes to Earendil, and with the power of the great Gem they pass at least to Valinor, and accomplish their errand — at the cost of never being allowed to return or dwell again with Elves or Men. The gods then move again, and great power comes out of the West, amd the stronghold of the Enemy is destroyed….
Tolkien never wrote a long version of the story of Earendil. He does appear at the end of “Quenta Silmarillion” as promised, but the story is only a brief narrative. We don’t have a “Voyages of Earendil” to refer to or even long for. Such a text was probably never contemplated by Tolkien, except in the briefest way. There are the notes for an early Earendil epic which have been published in The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two. Christopher Tolkien showed us that his father once intended to create an Odyssey for Earendil which would have rivalled Homer’s work, but the voyages and wanderings were never fully realized. And Tolkien never returned to them, after he abandoned the Lost Tales. But the history of Earendil diverged significantly from the early glimpses, and his story was diminished.
The original Earendil was doomed to achieve a futile quest. By the time he reached Kor, the ancient city of the Elves in the West, Ingwe had already heard tidings of the fall of Gondolin and had led his people in a second rebellion to aid the Gnomes of the Great Lands (the world of Men, what in later versions of the mythology became Middle-earth). Ingwe died, and Earendil never delivered his message to the Valar. The whole career of Earendil is tinged with an Odyssean futility, but Odysseus, at least, got to kill Penelope’s suitors in the end.
Had Tolkien devoted some time to updating the voyages of Earendil, we might have learned the fate of Tuor and Idril. In Letter 153, written to Peter Hastings in September 1954 (after The Lord of the Rings had begun publication, but before The Return of the King was released), Tolkien noted that “Tuor weds Idril the daughter of Turgon King of Gondolin; and ‘it is supposed’ (not stated) that he as an unique exception receives the Elvish limited ‘immortality’: an exception either way.”
In the original tales, Tuor leaves the Great Lands by himself, in a ship with purple sails, and Idril awakening too late sees him set off into the distance. She sings a song of lament by the shores of the Sea. Earendil tries to console her, but eventually she sets sail on her own and vanishes. Years later, when Earendil is wandering through the Shadowy Seas amid the Enchanted Isles, one of his companions, Littleheart, son of Voronwe (yes, the Voronwe who led Tuor to Gondolin), rings a gong while they are on or near an isle upon which is set a Tower of Pearl. The sleeper in the tower awakens, and in one version of the story it turns out to be Idril.
In a more updated version of the story, Tuor and Idril would undoubtedly set sail together. But bereft of the Silmaril, and having not the power of Earendil’s Doom to guide them, they might become lost in the Shadowy Seas. They might find the Tower of Pearl, or build it, and there lay themselves to sleep until such time as someone comes to awaken them. Earendil and his mortal companions would thus find the island one day, ring the gong, and awaken his parents. But they would have to remain behind, trapped, until the Valar released them from their enchanted prison. Or else Earendil would not realize he had awakened them, and they would have to be abandoned by their son, watching his sails recede into the distance.
Even the Ents have a possible origin in Earendil’s early voyages. In a cryptic outline which mentions Ungweliante (Ungoliant) there are previous references to “Dark regions”, “Fire mountains”, “Tree-men”, and “Pygmies”; also mentioned are “Sarqindi or cannibal-ogres”.
Earendil is believed by some people to have slain Ungoliant, although that is not stated in The Silmarillion. A full telling of his adventures would have to carry him to the far southern reaches of Middle-earth where Earendil would have to encounter the great spider and slay her. But would he still encounter the Tree-men, pygmies, and cannibal-ogres?
Bilbo’s song in Rivendell, said in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil to be a more serious treatment of the legend of Earendil than the poem “Errantry”, only mentions the “nether heats and burning waste” of the south in passing; neither Ungoliant nor the Tower of Pearl are named. Earendil’s adventures are thus left unresolved, and the reader must infer that many deeds awaited him when he set sail in Vingelote. But some of those deeds, at least, may be inferred from the scraps and bits Tolkien played with in his early desire to produce a grand adventure of a mariner cruising the oceans of the world.
We now return to the story of Imrazôr and Mithrellas with the precedent of Earendil’s fragmented history in hand. By examining other stories and the recorded events of their times, we can construct a framework which may provide the context for many of the stories. That is, we cannot deduce with certainty what happened, but we can look at where the tales would have conveniently touched upon each other. And perhaps in the timing of events there would have been sufficient motivation to explain Mithrellas’ actions.
The story of Imrazôr and Mithrellas dates to the early 1950s, to the years when Tolkien was working on the appendices, but prior to the book’s acceptance by Allen & Unwin. At this point in the tale’s development, the Silvan (Wood) Elves are the eastern Elves. There are no Avari, and Celeborn is not a descendant of Elmo the younger brother of Elwe and Olwe, but is instead himself a Silvan Elf. In one note associated with the story of Imrazôr, Celeborn is the brother of Amroth. This phase of Middle-earth’s development is thus quite simple and unsophisticated when compared to the Middle-earth which began to emerge more than ten years later with the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings and the Third Edition of The Hobbit. Nonetheless, Tolkien has established that The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion are “interdependent and indivisible”.
We must therefore assume that certain elements, approaching permanancy through publication, will be expected to persist through the later evolution of the mythology, even though in the end Tolkien was forced to excise a great deal of material from the appendices to accommodate the publishing limitations of the day. Hence, the core story of Imrazôr and Mithrellas must be accepted as essentially fixed: she was a maiden of Nimrodel, he dwelt in Belfalas, they met there, and they married. Mithrellas bore Imrazôr two children, Galador and Gilmith, and then left him.
Imrazôr’s birth and death dates (T.A. 1950-2076) are attested to in a marginal note. He was thus too young to recall the disastrous battle of 1944 in which King Ondoher and his sons Faramir and Artamir died. He would likely also have been too young to participate in the expedition led by Prince Earnur in 1975 to destroy the Witch-Realm of Angmar. But Imrazôr probably heard about the wars from his relatives, including his father (most likely the Adrahil of Dol Amroth mentioned in the first section of “Cirion and Eorl” as the Captain of the Left-wing of Ondoher’s Northern Army).
The connection between Adrahil and Imrazôr is questionable. It is not a matter of canon. The texts which discuss these characters are both from the hand of J.R.R. Tolkien. Rather, the questions concern the legitimacy, or consistency, of the traditions. Christopher Tolkien observes, in Note 39 appended to “Cirion and Eorl”, that “it is said that according to the tradition of their house the first Lord of Dol Amroth was Galador (c. Third Age 2004 – 2129), the son of Imrazôr the Numenorean….The note just cited seems to suggest that this family of the Faithful settled in Belfalas with a stronghold on Dol Amroth before the Downfall of Numenor; and if that is so the two statements can only be reconciled on the supposition that the line of the Princes, and indeed the place of their dwelling, went back more than two thousand years before Galador’s day, and that Galador was called the first Lord of Dol Amroth because it was not until his time (after the drowning of Amroth in the year 1981) that Dol Amroth was so named.”
Christopher’s conclusion is that these apparent inconsistencies were the result of his father’s developing two different traditions. The first tradition, that Galador was the first Lord of Dol Amroth, was established in the early 1950s. The second tradition, implying there were Lords of Dol Amroth at least as far back as 1944 and perhaps extending all the way to a time prior to the founding of Gondor, was developed in the late 1960s. Christopher proposes that “Cirion and Eorl” was written about the same time as the essay titled “Of Dwarves and Men”, published in The Peoples of Middle-earth. “Of Dwarves and Men” was written around the year 1968, several years after the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings was published (1965).
The prestige and position of the Lords of Amroth did not simply leap into existence with “Cirion and Eorl”, however. Imrahil assumed command over Minas Tirith after Denethor’s death in the primary text, and in 1963 Tolkien composed a draft for a letter (No. 244), in which he wrote “to be Prince of Ithilien, the greatest noble after Dol Amroth in the revived Numenorean state of Gondor” and also “the chief commanders, under the King, would be Faramir and Imrahil: and one of these would normally remain a military commander at home in the King’s absence.” So the use of a Lord of Dol Amroth as a captain in “Cirion and Eorl” is not in itself contradictory with the texts, both published and unpublished, concerning the family’s history.
But the statement that Galador was the first Lord of Dol Amroth is troubling to Christopher, because anyone named “of Dol Amroth” is naturally assumed to be the Lord “of Dol Amroth”. Christopher is further perplexed by the garbled history of Amroth. Who was he, and how did Dol Amroth come to be named for him? In some accounts, Elves actually lived at Dol Amroth, incluing Amroth (for whom the hill was named).
The issue of consistency cannot be satisfactorily resolved. An association between Amroth the Elven-king of Lorien and the highlands of Belfalas prior to 1981 simply cannot be achieved. Amroth started out as Celeborn’s brother, but then became Celeborn’s son, and finally became the son of Malgalad or Amdir, the King of Lothlorien who died with many of his warriors in the Dead Marshes in the first Battle of Dagorlad at the end of the Second Age. The introduction of Amdir into the tale of Amroth affords an opportunity for his son (Amroth) to dwell in Belfalas, near the Elvish haven of Edhellond, at some point in the Second Age. Presumably, Amroth would have settled there after the War of the Elves and Sauron, and would only have returned to Lorien after the War of the Last Alliance.
But though it may be necessary to contrive an explanation for the name of the hill (Dol Amroth), it is not necessary to assume that a Lord of Dol Amroth in 1944 is an oversight. That is, the tradition associated with the genealogy partially published in “The History of Galadriel and Celeborn” in Unfinished Tales never achieved the status of published canon. J.R.R. Tolkien had no reason to feel bound to abide by what he had originally written concerning the origins of the Princes of Dol Amroth. It seems evident that he had made the decision to revise that history and extend it further back. The first Lord of Dol Amroth, therefore, need not be Galador.
In accepting that Tolkien intended to revise and expand the history of the Princes who were the Lords of Dol Amroth, we need not discount the tale of Imrazôr and Mithrellas. Rather, though he may still have been called Imrazôr the Numenorean, it is acceptable to refer to him as a Lord of Dol Amroth. The status of Imrazôr’s family is as canonically established as Celeborn’s relationship to Thingol. The last word Tolkien wrote concerning Celeborn was that he was a grandson of Olwe of Alqualonde, which notion contradicts Tolkien’s much older taboos against the Eldar marrying their first cousins (Galadriel was the daughter of Earwen, Olwe’s daughter). If we accept the Celeborn of The Lord of the Rings as a grandson of Olwe, we have an impossible task in bringing him to Lothlorien with any hope of consistency with other texts, both published in Tolkien’s lifetime and afterward.
So, in the final stage of the history Tolkien developed for the Lords of Dol Amroth, Imrazôr becomes a Prince of Belfalas, a Lord of Dol Amroth, and the son of Adrahil of Dol Amroth who commanded the Left Wing of the Northern Army of Gondor under King Ondoher. We have no word on whether Adrahil served under Prince Earnil in the war against Angmar, but he certainly could have been serving as a captain in some capacity. For example, when Earnil led the Gondorian cavalry north around the Hills of Evendim, who led the remainder of Gondor’s forces eastward toward Fornost Erain? And did Earnil not retain at least one army at home under the command of a capable captain?
Adrahil’s career is important only to the extent that his experiences may have affected his son’s temperament and destiny. The Edain and Dunedain who wedded Elven maids usually had a family connection with the Elves. The Lords of Dor-lomin, vassals of the Elven-kings Fingolfin and Fingon, were the ancestors of Turin and Tuor; the Lords of Ladros, vassals of the Elven-king Finrod Felagund, were the ancestors of Beren; the Chieftains of the Dunedain of the North, fostered by Elrond of Rivendell, were the ancestors of Aragorn.
In a fuller account of Imrazôr’s story, therefore, it would make sense for Adrahil to accompany Earnil to Eriador. As a hero of the earlier disaster and an experienced captain, Adrahil would have been a strong asset for Earnil. And his presence in Eriador would have served to introduce his family to the Silvan Elves of Lorien, who sent an army to the final battle against Angmar. When Imrazôr met Mithrellas years later, she would have heard of his father, and so would have been disposed to treat him with greater honor than most Gondorian lords. Also, as the son of the Lord of Dol Amroth, Imrazôr would have inherited a special family relationship with the recently-departed Elves of Edhellond, some of whom would have been Mithrellas’ kindred.
For her part, Mithrellas may not have been as disposed to leave Middle-earth as Nimrodel. Despite the awakening of the Balrog in Khazad-dum, and the destruction of the Dwarven civilization there in 1980-1, not all of the Elves of Lorien wanted to leave Middle-earth. Amroth seems to have undertaken the journey only for the love of Nimrodel. He was certainly a brave and noble warrior, a king beloved by his people. So it is not unreasonable to suggest that Mithrellas herself only reluctantly left the woods of Lothlorien, and did so out of love for Nimrodel.
A reluctance to leave Middle-earth may have disposed Mithrellas to fulfill a special destiny. Although the Silvan Elves may have had different customs from the Eldar, it seems unlikely they would have been less likely to choose a single husband or wife. The sad history of Finwe and his two marriages, as well as Finduilas’ love for both Gwindor and Turin, implies that Elves could indeed love more than one person. But Mithrellas probably had no lover prior to meeting Imrazôr. Otherwise, that lover would have at least earned a passing mention, and perhaps would have introduced a complication to the story.
Mithrellas nonetheless was a tragic figure. Having left her home in the north, she became separated from both her people and from her mistress. Eventually she reached Belfalas, but apparently only after Amroth’s death and the departure of the last ship. So at best we can only say that Imrazôr and Mithrellas met sometime between the years 1981 (the year of Amroth’s death) and 2004 (the year of Galador’s birth).
The only events of significance which occurred in Gondor during that time were the death of Pelendur (1998), the Steward who had rejected Arvedui’s claim to the crown of Gondor in 1944, and the fall of Minas Ithil (2000-2). Earnil II remained King of Gondor, and Adrahil, father of Imrazôr, was probably still alive (and most likely did not die until around 2025). The fall of Minas Ithil to the Nazgul may have been the event which triggered the marriage of Imrazôr and Mithrellas.
If we assume that Imrazôr and Mithrellas met soon after Amroth’s death, say 1982, then she may have accepted his family’s hospitality in Belfalas. But her grief over Amroth’s death and her hope to meet up with Nimrodel would have been fresh. Also, Imrazôr would still have been quite young. Over the course of the next 20 years, Imrazôr and Mithrellas would have become close friends, and he would eventually (or quickly, as seems to happen often in these matters) fall in love with her. Mithrellas’ own feelings for Imrazôr would lead her into doubt. Occasional opportunities to leave Middle-earth must have arisen, for though Edhellond itself was now deserted, the Silvan Elves still had the grace to depart over Sea.
As Mithrellas’ hopes of seeing Nimrodel again diminished, Imrazôr would have sought to comfort her, and she must have been consoled by his friendship. It may even be that Imrazôr and Mithrellas made attempts to find Nimrodel, searching the Ered Nimrais for her. Perhaps the song of Amroth and Nimrodel could even have been Mithrellas’ lament for the two lovers, or was derived from a song Mithrellas made for them. The song could have passed back into the north with Silvan Elves who, finding Edhellond deserted and hearing of Amroth’s death (and Nimrodel’s disappearance), decided to return to Lothlorien.
By the year 2000 Imrazôr would have been fully mature and most likely serving the King in some official capacity. Although the texts make no mention of any attempt by Gondor to relieve the siege of Minas Ithil, Earnur should have made at least one attempt. Imrazôr may have been involved in such an action, and returning from the war on Gondor’s border to Mithrellas, he may have sought her hand in marriage.
Finally, it would be consistent with other Elven-Edain stories if some measure of foresight or prophecy acknowledged the doom of Mithrellas and Imrazôr, or foretold that their descendants would enrich the blood of many noble families, strengthening Gondor. Descendants of Galador would indeed include not only the Lords of Dol Amroth, but also Kings of Rohan and Stewards of Gondor, who became Princes of Ithilien.
The last phase of the tale of Imrazôr and Mithrellas ends with her departure by night. She leaves him after having borne a son and daughter, but would she have left very young children? I find that doubtful. If we accept that Gilmith was born after Galador, then Mithrellas must have stayed with Imrazôr until her daughter was grown, and perhaps married. Gilmith probably would have been born within a few years after Galador, say around the year 2007. As a Numenorean and a Peredhil, Gilmith would have been blessed with long life, probably around 120 years. So she may have deferred marriage until she was 30 or 40 years old.
King Earnil II died in the year 2043, and his son Earnur succeeded him. The Lord of the Nazgul challenged Earnur to single combat in that year, but Mardil the Steward persuaded Earnur to forego the challenge. And yet, such an event could have brought foreboding upon Mithrellas. She may have realized that Gondor was about to enter a new phase of its history in which it would become weaker than before. And soon, as she accounted matters, Imrazôr would begin to lose his vitality and so die. Her life already marred by grief, Mithrellas would have little motivation to stay with Imrazôr if her daughter had already taken a husband.
Which is not to say that Mithrellas would have stopped loving Imrazôr. Rather, she had no hope of sharing his fate, or of securing a grace for Imrazôr to pass over Sea with her. In the years since her marriage, she may have re-established contact with her people, and the Elves could have built a ship and used it to leave Middle-earth. Bitter though it might be for Mithrellas, she might have had no other choice than to wait and watch as her husband and children grew old and died.
If 2043 was too soon for Mithrellas to leave Imrazôr, then 2050, the year Earnur rode off to Minas Morgul with his small company of knights, would probably be the last year Mithrellas could find any delight in Gondor. So Mithrellas probably left between the years 2043 and 2050, and most likely in the year 2050. Like 1981, when the Dwarven civilization of Khazad-dum was destroyed and Amroth left Lothlorien, 2050 would be a year of ill-omen. There had to come a night when her spirit could no longer be at ease beneath the stars of Middle-earth. Perhaps looking down upon her sleeping husband one last time, Mithrellas would silently recall years of mirth and joy, and then quietly slip away.
In the morning, Imrazôr would have awakened to find his beloved wife gone. And knowing her through all those years, he would have understood her need to escape the tragic losses she experienced in Middle-earth. He must nonetheless have followed her, stood upon a cliff high above the sea, and looking out west hoped to catch a glimpse of an Elven ship far from shore. How many hours might he have stared silently as her ship receded into the distance, seeking the Straight Road to Valinor? Yet at last, when he could see the vessel no longer, he would return to his great castle overlooking the sea. And Belfalas would thereafter seem less blessed, though for many generations its beauty might preserve the memory of the Elven songs of old, and the Lady who last sang them for mortal men.
This article was originally published on April 14, 2001
