Prophecy plays an important role in the Middle-earth stories. In fact, some people argue that Tolkien must have intended Middle-earth to have a predestined fate or timeline, because it seems like every prophecy mentioned comes true in some fashion. Well, false prophecies do occur in the stories, but they are rare. Or, if they are not false, they are at least unfulfilled.
The question of whether there is power in prophecy or power behind it is virtually impossible to resolve to anyone’s satisfaction. Many people believe that history unfolds according to the Music of the Ainur (which is not true, as it was Ilúvatar who gave the Music its meaning through his Vision). Regardless of whether it follows the Music or the Vision, Time certainly unfolds much as the Ainur and Ilúvatar wove their themes. But The Silmarillion tells us that each age reveals new wonders to the Valar which they know nothing of, and which are not foretold in the Music or Vision.
In fact, much of the history which is foretold doesn’t even occur in the Music or the Vision. After Ilúvatar stops the Music, he speaks to the Ainur. “And many other things Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur at that time,” Tolkien writes in “Ainulindalë”. “And because of their memory of his words, and the knowledge that each has of the music that he himself made, the Ainur know much of what was, and is, and is to come, and few things are unseen by them. Yet some things there are that they cannot see, neither alone nor taking counsel together; for to none but himself has Ilúvatar revealed all that he has in store, and in every age there come forth things that are new and have no foretelling, for they do not proceed from the past.”
Ilúvatar therefore placed many things in the Vision which the Ainur had not sung of, and even after some of the Ainur entered Ea, Ilúvatar revealed new things. His freedom to alter Ea as Time unfolds leaves Ilúvatar as the final arbiter of foreknowledge. That is, he can (if he so chooses) invalidate the foreknowledge that an individual Ainu may have derived from parts of the Music or Vision. But does Ilúvatar negate anything which has been foretold? That’s an interesting question, yet one which cannot be answered.
We know of several occasions where Ilúvatar intervenes. For example, when Aulë creates the Dwarves, Ilúvatar speaks to him and eventually accepts the Dwarves as his adopted Children. Ilúvatar gives them true life and independent thought. There is, of course, no text which says that Aulë’s impatience and creation of the Dwarves either is or is not foretold or foreshadowed in the Music and Vision. But Aulë wrought the Dwarves in secret. He can hardly have worked in secret if the rest of the Ainur knew about them through foreknowledge derived from the Ainulindalë. Hence, Aulë’s creation of the Dwarves, and Ilúvatar’s intervention, are strongly implied to be new things, unknown to the Valar.
When Ar-Pharazôn invaded Aman to seize immortality, the Valar are said to have lain down their guardianship. Ilúvatar then intervened and changed the world, removing Aman from Arda and making what remained into a round world. Can the Valar have known that the Númenoreans would rebel against their authority? I don’t believe so. For, being armed with such fore-knowledge, they would have effectively condemned uncounted multitudes of Númenoreans to become evil.
Tolkien writes that Manwë could not, would not compel Melkor to repentence, or use against Melkor the devices which Melkor himself used. In Osanwë-kenta, Tolkien says that “if Manwë had broken [his] promise [to release Melkor from imprisonment at the appointed time] for his own purposes, even though still intending ‘good’, he would have taken a step upon the paths of Melkor. That is a perilous step. In that hour and act he would have ceased to be the vice-regent of the One, becoming but a king who takes advantage over a rival whom he has conquered by force.”
Manwë equally refrained from compulsion where Sauron was concerned. Sauron had been commanded to present himself to Manwë for judgement, but when Sauron failed to appear the Valar did not seize him. The first war to take Melkor prisoner was launched on behalf of the Children. The second war at the end of the First Age was launched for a similar purpose. It was not Manwë’s intention to compel Melkor or to force Time to follow a certain path.
Hence, pronouncing dooms, as when the Valar cast the Noldor out of Aman and imposed a great doom upon them, in fact a curse, was not an act by the Valar of compelling specific choices or altering the actions of the Children. When the Valar cursed the Noldor, they could not be compelling the Noldor to commit further evil, which the Noldor did, but rather, they had to be unfettering the Children from whatever graces their association with the Valar had bestowed upon them. The Valar removed their influence from the hearts of the Noldor, who had stepped upon a path which could (they reasonably inferred) only lead to self-destruction.
Pengolodh writes in Osanwë-kenta, “Things may seem alike, but if they are in kind wholly different they must be distinguished. Foresight which is prevision, and forecasting which is opinion made by reasoning upon evidence, may be identical in their prediction, but they are wholly different in their mode, and they should be distinguished by loremasters, even if the daily language of both Elves and Men gives them the same name as departments of wisdom.”
The Osanwë-kenta says that “the Valar entered into Time and Ea of free will, and they are now in Time, so long as it endures. They can perceive nothing outside of Time, save by memory of their existence before it began: they can recall the Song and the Vision.”
The first note attached to the commentary on “Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth” elaborates on Ilúvatar’s freedom versus the Valar’s constraints:
The Eldar held that Eru was and is free at all stages. This freedom was shown to in the Music by His introduction, after the arising of the discords of Melkor, of the two new themes, representing the coming of the Elves and Men, which were not in His first communication. He may therefore … introduce things directly, which were not in the Music and so are not achieved through the Valar. It remains, nonetheless, true in general to regard Ea as achieved through their mediation.
The mediation of the Valar in creating (or sub-creating) Ea, and their memory of the Music and the Vision, provide them with the intricate knowledge of Ea and Time with which they forecast what may come. They also may foresee things yet unrevealed, but only if Ilúvatar has imparted such knowledge to them. Their own mediation gives them fore-knowledge but not foresight. Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur as he showed them the Vision, and he told them many things not included in the Vision.
Free will thus does not collide with the actions and intentions of the Valar, except for Melkor, who desired to compel all living things to obey him. He wanted to be worshipped by the Children as Ilúvatar should have been. He wanted to be obeyed by the Ainur as Ilúvatar should have been. Melkor attempted to engage in the type of compulsion which would eliminate or reduce free will. Tolkien struggled to explain this abridgement of Ilúvatar’s gift to all Rational Incarnates in the essays regarding the origin of Orcs.
In his final essay on Orcs, Tolkien wrote: “It is true, of course, that Morgoth held the Orcs in dire thralldom; for in their corruption they had lost almost all possibility of resisting the domination of his will. So great indeed did its pressure upon them become ere Angband fell that, if he turned his thought towards them, they were conscious of his ‘eye’ wherever they might be; and when Morgoth was at last removed from Arda the Orcs that survived in the West were scattered, leaderless and almost witless, and were for a long time without control or purpose.”
Melkor’s compulsion of other wills may have been reduced to mere influence, as in the influence he appears to have exerted in the choices made by the children of Hurin. When Melkor imprisoned Hurin upon Thangorodrim, he said, “Yet I may come at you, and all your accursed house; and you shall be broken on my will, though you all were made of steel….Behold! The shadow of my thought shall lie upon [your children] wherever they go, and my hate shall pursue them to the ends of the world.”
Since Turin was fostered in Doriath under Melian’s protection, it’s unlikely Melkor could have had much influence upon Turin’s life there. But Saeros, in his pride, opened himself up to evil. Melkor may only have needed to deduce that wherever Turin went, he would meet someone who had some taint of darkness upon him. In such a meeting, Turin’s choice might be pre-influenced to distrust what was right. Such a small seed might fail to flower 100 times, but need reach fruition only once. That is, the tale of Hurin’s children could be loaded down with many cases where they were tempted to choose poorly, but did not.
In the end, only the choices which led them to the fate Melkor wished upon them comprised the key elements of the tale of Hurin’s children. This is about as close as Tolkien comes to imposing anything like predestination upon his characters. And though Hurin revealed the general location of Gondolin to Melkor’s spies, Melkor nonetheless had to rely upon deceit and seize upon circumstance in order to achieve his goal. He could not simply decree that Hurin would betray Turgon. Such a betrayal would have come sooner and with less intricate arrangements.
Melkor’s curse, like the curse of the Valar upon the rebellious Noldor, was therefore not prophecy, and certainly imposed no limitation upon free will. These were the actions of powerful beings, possessed of great knowledge and understanding, and capable of considerable insight into the motivations and probable choices of the creatures with whom they were dealing.
True prophecy occurs in a few places, but it is overshadowed by foresight. If we can distinguish between, we must conclude that foresight only intuitively acknowledges that something may or will happen. For example, when the Company of the Ring are debating what course to take in Eregion, Aragorn warns Gandalf against choosing the path through Moria. Aragorn has no clear idea of why he feels compelled to warn Gandalf against such a path. And Gandalf certainly senses no such doom. But Aragorn’s premonition proves to be accurate: they encounter the Balrog and Gandalf is lost to his companions.
Elrond, on the other hand, predicts some things concerning Frodo’s journey: “I can foresee very little of your road; and how your task is to be achieved I do not know. The Shadow has crept now to the foot of the Mountains, and draws nigh even to the borders of the Greyflood; and under the Shadow all is dark to me. You will meet many foes, and some disguised; and you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it.”
Who can doubt that Boromir must be a disguised foe, or that Faramir is a friend unlooked-for? But Elrond’s prediction is hampered by the Shadow, almost as if he is literally seeing Frodo’s journey as it unfolds. Why should the Shadow (presumably the influence or wills of Sauron and Saruman) so impede Elrond’s vision? Note 6 to Osanwë-kenta offers a suggestion:
Pengolodh here elaborates (though it is not necessary for his argument) this matter of ‘foresight’. No mind, he asserts, knows what is not in it. All that it has experienced is in it, though in the case of the Incarnate, dependent upon the instruments of the hroa, some things may be ‘forgotten’, not immediately available for recollection. But no part of the ‘future’ is there, for the mind cannot see it or have seen it: that is, a mind placed in time. Such a mind can learn of the future only from another mind which has seen it. But that means only from Eru ultimately, or mediately from some mind that has seen in Eru some part of His purpose (such as the Ainur who are now the Valar in Ea). An Incarnate can thus only know anything of the future, by instruction derived from the Valar, or by a revelation coming direct from Eru. But any mind, whether of the Valar or of the Incarnate, may deduce by reason what will or may come to pass. This is not foresight, not though it may be clearer in terms and indeed even more accurate than glimpses of foresight. Not even if it is formed into visions seen in a dream, which is a means whereby ‘foresight’ also is frequently presented to the mind.
Elrond’s foresight cannot be a deduction based upon his knowledge. He didn’t know who might or would betray Frodo, nor who might or would lie in Frodo’s path. Elrond didn’t even know by what path Frodo would approach Mordor. Although it could be argued that Elrond and Gandalf had spent plenty of time talking about where the Company of the Ring might go, and who lived along that road, the removal of Gandalf in Moria provides a limit to Gandalf’s influence upon Elrond’s thought.
Hence, Elrond must have been given a subtle hint by one of the Valar, or perhaps by Ilúvatar himself. Likewise, the dreams Faramir and Boromir experienced, admonishing them to seek for Rivendell, cannot have been the product of their reasoning. They simply didn’t know enough to deduce such possible events. They might have heard something of Imladris as children and forgotten about it; they undoubtedly knew that Elendil’s sword had been broken. But they could not know that a Halfling possessed a token of great power, or that a council would unfold in Imladris where a great doom would be chosen.
Other examples of foresight among Elves and Men include Malbeth the Seer’s prophecies (concerning Arvedui’s name and Aragorn’s journey on the Paths of the Dead), Glorfindel’s prediction that the Lord of the Nazgûl would not fall by the hand of man, and Isildur’s prediction that the war with Sauron would not end quickly.
The intuitive deductions by the Lossoth (that the Elvish ship sent to rescue Arvedui was not safe) and the Druedain (that Númenor no longer felt safe under their feet, and that a change was coming just prior to the Battle of the Pelennor Fields) appear to be more closely aligned with the reasoning behind forecasting, although these (primitive) peoples may have been more closely attuned to subtle cues provided by Ilúvatar (or the Valar).
And what about Elrond’s concern for the Shire, and his desire to send Merry and Pippin back there as messengers? Tolkien does not reveal how much Elrond knows (or learns) of Saruman’s activities in Eriador. But Gandalf and Aragorn were aware of the increased interest in the Shire. Gandalf asked Aragorn to increase the guard over the Shire. So, if Gandalf and Aragorn knew someone was up to something, Elrond must have known, too, what was going on. And Gandalf’s revelation about Saruman’s treachery would have helped Elrond conclude that the Shire was no longer safe from external influences. His concern is extremely vague, though it proves to be well-founded.
Celeborn’s admonishment to Aragorn is another example of Elvish forecasting, and indeed is a bit more straigtforward than Elrond’s forecasting. Celeborn explains the lay of the land for the Company of the Ring, given the course they have chosen. And he gives them more time to think about the choices they will make by giving them boats, so they may continue south along the Anduin. But in the end, he points out, they have to choose whether to go east or west. And he reminds Boromir that old wives’ tales may recall more than the Wise concerning some things. Perhaps Celeborn’s warning to stay out of Fangorn was a glimmer of true foresight, where the Valar or Ilúvatar may have been suggesting in a vague way that trouble was brewing.
Elrond’s inability to see clearly what might befall in the lands where the Shadow extended implies a limit to the source of his foresight. That is, if Ilúvatar were handing him visions, then why cut them short? Malbeth seemed to be pretty well informed on matters of state and catastrophe. His foresight is almost like foreknowledge, and it seems likely he was getting his visions from Ilúvatar, or perhaps from Manwë.
But Tolkien notes that Iluvater intervenes only after Gandalf’s death. It is at this point when the Valar’s plan to defeat Sauron fails. For two thousand years, therefore, the Valar have been running the show. How much do they know of what is to come, and how much are they guessing? And they must be guessing at some things. Otherwise, why would Gandalf be caught off guard by Saruman’s betrayal and the appearance of the Balrog? The uncertainty of the Valar’s plan implies strongly they could not foresee the end of the conflict. Ilúvatar’s intervention implies strongly he wanted the conflict to end in a certain way.
In speaking of the Valar’s refusal to intervene directly in Beleriand before the end of the First Age, Tolkien suggests that “the last intervention with physical force by the Valar, ending in the breaking of Thangorodrim, may then be viewed as not in fact reluctant or even unduly delayed, but timed with precision. The intervention came before the annihilation of the Eldar and the Edain. Morgoth though logically triumphant had neglected most of Middle-earth during the war; and by he had in fact been weakened: in power and prestige (he had lost and failed to recover one of the Silmarils), and above all in mind….The war was successful, and ruin was limited to the small (if beautiful) region of Beleriand.”
The Valar were thus not always acting on the basis of foreknowledge, or foresight, but at least on some occasions — especially after much Time had passed — on the basis of their own deliberations. They were calculating when and how much they could intervene directly in History. Their knowledge of what was yet to come was incomplete, and growing more incomplete with each passing age. In the end, they miscalculated (in fact, they miscalculated more than once, but Ilúvatar had to intervene directly on at least two occasions to preserve the natural order).
What seems like prophecy in many places thus derives from compulsion, when it is the product of an evil will such as Melkor’s or Sauron’s; or from forecasting, the calculation of what must or should befall based upon knowledge of events and peoples; or from foreknowledge, which is derived from the Music, the Vision, or Ilúvatar; or from Ilúvatar himself. Only the latter is true prohetic foretelling, but prophecy is not simply foretelling. Prophecy in its broadest meaning is revelation. If the Valar reveal something to Elves or Men, they imparting prophetic knowledge or foresight.
The limitations of forecasting may explain why Tom Bombadil couldn’t offer the Hobbits much advice concerning their road. He didn’t believe the Nazgûl would trouble them for long (he was, in fact, wrong). The Nazgûl were watching Bree when Frodo and his companions arrived. Tom was apparently relying upon his knowledge of the land and the creatures he knew. His experience with the Nazgûl was limited, and therefore he wasn’t very good at predicting what they might do. And he said as much to the Hobbits.
The uncertainty of Tom’s predictions is matched by the uncertainty of the revelations in Galadriel’s mirror. Her little basin filled with water is clearly revealing things, so the visions Frodo and Sam perceive in it are true prophetic visions. But Galadriel warns them that it is not easy to discern whether the revelations are about the past, the present, or the future. And she also points out that not everything the mirror “predicts” comes to pass. So, where is the mirror getting its visions from? Is Galadriel’s magic capturing the random thoughts of sleeping Ainur? Or is Ilúvatar handing out visions like fortune cookies?
Within the Tale of Time, prophecy plays a diverse role which informs and illuminates, but it does not dominate. In the wrong hands it is as much a tool of compulsion as evidence of compulsion. But in the right hands it is a sign of the continued interest and intervention from Ilúvatar, who alone knows how everything will turn out. But he nonetheless allows all the Children of his thought, both Ainur and Incarnates, to make their own choices.
This article was originally published on October 26, 2001.
