Unwritten Tales of Love and War in Middle-earth

If someone were to turn up a lost manuscript written by J.R.R. Tolkien, I would hope it provided a comprehensive narrative for the Second Age. We have only one brief narrative for the Second Age, in the form of the first chronological table in Appendix B to The Lord of the Rings. The only other information provided on the Second Age comes in glimpses scattered through “Akallabeth”, “Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age”, and Unfinished Tales’ “A description of the island of Numenor”, “Aldarion and Erendis”, “The History of Galadriel and Celeborn…”, and “The Line of Elros”.

These sources are not only slim pickings for the Tolkien researcher; they also provide dangling storylines, contradictions, what ifs, and a maze of unanswered questions. So let’s talk about the First Age for a while.

Specifically, what is it about the First Age which makes that time so interesting? Tolkien created a whole mythology which dealt with the creation of the world all the way up through the final defeat of the first incarnation of evil. But a lot of the storyline just sort of whizzes past the reader. “Iluvatar created the Ainur…and they sang…and he created the World…and they became the Valar…and Melkor claimed Arda for his own…Tulkas rested and Nessa danced…Melkor toppled the two Lamps…the Valar raised the Pelori…the Elves awoke…the War of the Powers raged in the north…Melkor was imprisoned for three ages…Feanor made the Silmarils…Melkor was released…Melkor murdered Finwe and stole the Silmarils…Feanor led the Noldor out of Tirion…the Noldor attacke Alqualonde…Feanor abandoned Fingolfin in Araman….etc., etc.”

The story of Feanor is the first real Elf tale which spans more than one chapter of The Silmarillion. But Feanor is nonetheless a short-lived character whose death seems more of a relief than anything else. By the time he’s cut off and surrounded by Balrogs, the reader is ready to ask, “Can this guy make things any worse for his people?” Feanor may be tragic, but he’s also a bit insufferable, and many a reader has demanded to know why they should care about Feanor?

In fact, things don’t really start to get interesting until the story of Beren and Luthien comes along. Which is not to say that it isn’t great to read about all the battles between the Noldor and the Orcs, or how Beleriand was divided up into many realms by the Noldor and Sindar. It’s just that there is no real meat to the narrative in terms of creating an emotional response in the reader. But along comes “Beren and Luthien”, and suddenly the reader has an outlaw to root for, a beautiful Elven princess to inspire the wistful imagination, a conflict with an Elven king, and a great quest for a Silmaril, a quest which suffers more than one setback. The only real problem with “Beren and Luthien”, as far as The Silmarillion is concerned, is that the story is too short.

The next great tale in The Silmarillion follows immediately after “Beren and Luthien”. This is the story of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the disastrous battle which resulted in: the overthrow of the two most important Noldorin realms, the Eldar’s loss of the strategic initiative in the Wars of Beleriand, and the resurgence of Morgoth’s power in the north. No other “Great Battle” gets a full chapter devoted to it. “Of the Ruin of Beleriand” is noteworthy for its climactic battle between Fingolfin and Morgoth, but that lonely duel is given more textual consideration than the Dagor Bragollach.

Finally, The Silmarillion rounds itself out with “Of Turin Turambar”. There still remains to be told the stories of Tuor and Earendil, but they both lack something special, something tragic. That is, Beren and Luthien were both required to make extreme sacrifices for their love. The Nirnaeth overwhelms the reader with the valiant but futile attempt to destroy the power of Angband. And Turin’s story consists of one misfortune after another. By the time we get to Tuor, his hardships are like a breath of fresh air. The loss of Gondolin is bittersweet but necessarily underwritten due to many incompatibilities between the original story and the later mythology. And Earendil is whisked around the map without the reader getting to know him very well.

So, the three great stories of the First Age turn out to be: “Beren and Luthien”, “Of the Fifth Battle, the Nirnaeth Arnoediad”, and “Of Turin Turambar”. These three stories dovetail with each other very much like a three-act play. Act One reveals the courage and fortitude of the Eldar and the Edain, as well as their folly. It promises their eventual downfall. Act Two brings on the downfall. Hurin’s compelling “Day shall come again!” heralds the onset of the great darkness. And Act Three winds its way through the tragic consequences of Act Two’s events to an unsatisfactory redemption.

Turin finally does redeem himself and all the misdeeds of the Eldar and Edain throughout the play by killing not only the dragon, Glaurung, but himself as well. His message is not that the world ends with him, but that it should go on without him. He offers a bittersweet hope, at best, but the play ends neatly with this third act. The audience knows that other tales may be told of the great wars in Beleriand, but this story has begun with a pure love, unfolded through a terrible battle, and relinquished its hold on the audience with the emotional release which comes of settling old scores, both within and without.

In contrast, the Third Age is bludgeoned into mediocrity by story after story of proud and valiant kings whose conquests or defeats inevitably lead to the diminishing of the Dunadan realms. These losses result in the ultimate confrontation between Sauron and a ragged group of free peoples, who are united only in their desire to remain free. There is a great love story in the Third Age: the tale of Aragorn and Arwen, which is reolved in the Fourth Age. But there is another great love story, which ends less happily: the tale of Nimrodel and Amroth. And there is a tale of a great battle in the north, in which Angmar is finally defeated. But its outcome doesn’t change the fact that the ancient kingdom of Arnor has finally been destroyed.

As the First Age (of the Sun) follows upon the folly of Feanor (he led his people into exile in a fruitless war of revenge), so the Third Age follows upon the folly of Isildur (he claimed Sauron’s One Ring for himself, and ultimately was slain because of the Ring, as Feanor was slain because of the Silmarils). And as the First Age brought about the eventual decline of the Eldar and the Edain, so the Third Age brought about a similar decline of both Eldar and Edain.

But the Third Age’s three-act drama begins with the great battle in the north. We are told how Angmar systematically weakens Arnor and finally destroys it. And then Gondor swings into action and annihilates the ancient enemy realm. But Gondor’s war comes too late. It is merely a war of vengeance, and all the vengeance in the world cannot bring the dead back to life, or restore health and vigor to fields which lie untilled.

With the end of Angmar, the allies disperse and go their separate ways. Gondor withdraws to the south and pays no further heed to the north. The Eotheod ride far beyond the borders of Lothlorien. The Eldar of Rivendell and Lindon recede into quiet solitude and seeming oblivion. And, finally, when the Dwarves of Khazad-dum lose their civilization to a Balrog, the Silvan Elves of Lothlorien, who had fought so valiantly in the wars with Angmar, are thrown into a panic. Many of them lose faith or delight in Middle-earth, and they flee over Sea.

Nimrodel and Amroth agreed to leave Middle-earth together, and they should have enjoyed many happy centuries together in the Uttermost West. But instead they became separated, and she was lost. When Amroth was forced to take ship without Nimrodel, he could not bear to be separated from her, and so perished in his attempt to return to the mainland. What did either of them do to deserve such a fate?

Nonetheless, both of these stories set the stage for the later tale of Aragorn and Arwen. With the departure of Amroth, Lothlorien became disorganized, so Galadriel and Celeborn chose to settle there and restore or preserve as much as the ancient Silvan realm as they could. And Aranarth’s decision to have his son fostered in Rivendell established the tradition of having all his heirs fostered by Elrond. In time, when Arathorn II was slain while his son and heir was still a small child, it became the obvious choice for Elrond to all but adopt Aragorn and raise the boy as his own son.

Aragorn met and fell in love with Arwen in Rivendell, but she did not return his love until they met again many years later in Lothlorien. Had Galadriel not been free to encourage Arwen’s love for Aragorn to take root and grow, he might never have won her heart. In time, as Aragorn eventually restored Arnor, he and Arwen were able to realize the full fruition of the love of Nimrodel and Amroth. But more importantly, the love of Aragorn and Arwen completed the storyline begun with Beren and Luthien. The suffering and sacrifice of Beren and Luthien was justified the moment Arwen gave her love to Aragorn, and the first story’s promise of emotional fulfillment for the reader was retained in the latter story’s conclusion.

And yet, the bittersweet theme of love persists throughout Tolkien’s stories. Love cannot be won without great cost, and it cannot be savored except in the shadow of great sacrifice. Nor does war achieve the final victory. The warriors may go quietly to their grave, or they may struggle furiously against the onset of night, but their deeds only lay the foundation for the achievements of the great lovers. And if the lovers fail, their failure is accompanied by a setback for the darkness. A new seed sprouts, takes root, and flourishes in the same soil where a previous flower had withered.

So, if the Third Age achieves the ends not fully realized in the First Age, what does the Second Age accomplish? It may be that the reader’s sense of incompleteness is enhanced by the lack of satisfactory resolution to the various conflicts and love stories in the Second Age. Although Sauron is eventually defeated, his power remains largely intact. And though the tale of Aldarion and Erendis reveals how bittersweet love could be, even for the Numenoreans in the early days of their power, the reader is left with a glimmer of hope and brightness. The poignancy of the story is lost in the fragmented notes for the tale’s ending. The reader is deprived of the emotional impact of the consequences of Aldarion’s wanderlust.

There are great wars in the Second Age, and many battles. But the battle which most resembles the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the final war with Angmar is the final combat on the slopes of Orodruin. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men has been victorious in the field, and Sauron’s armies are destroyed or dispersed. But it is not until Sauron himself seeks out Gil-galad that an end may be made of the war. And yet, when Elendil and Gil-galad have fallen, and Sauron lays dead or dying beside them, Isildur succumbs to the lure of the One Ring and takes it for himself. So Sauron is granted a reprieve, and the sacrifices of so many thousands of warriors and princes are made vain.

As Melkor won in the Nirnaeth, so Sauron won at the end of the Second Age. He won in the sense that his enemies failed to achieve their goal. They tottered to the brink of success and then fell back. The Eldar nearly won the Nirnaeth, too. But even if they had, they would not have had the strength to take Angband, or to defeat Melkor. Nonetheless, the Nirnaeth set into motion the events which led to Melkor’s downfall. Tuor was raised as an outlaw, and he eventually made his way to Gondolin. Turin was raised by Thingol, and eventually he brought about the destruction of Nargothrond. With Nargothrond out of the way, Melkor was able to direct his attention to Gondolin. Once Gondolin was destroyed, Earendil was on his way to becoming the greatest mariner of all time.

With Sauron’s survival, the War of the Last Alliance was rendered pointless. The stage was set for Sauron’s return, and the rematch was not nearly so dramatic. Sauron in fact achieved the destruction of Arnor, Elendil’s kingdom. No matter what else happened in the Third Age, the ruin of Arnor was a grievous blow to the West. It showed that the bad guys really could win a complete victory. After all, it did little good to destroy Angmar in the wake of Arnor’s destruction. The northern lands were freed of a terrible evil force for a while, but the loss of Angmar really didn’t set back Sauron’s plans very much. In fact, after being driven from the north, the Lord of the Nazgul struck back at Gondor by taking and holding the city of Minas Ithil for more than a thousand years.

The Second Age proved to be a roller coaster ride for both the Eldar and the Edain. The Noldor established a mighty realm in Eregion which, after accomplishing great deeds, was destroyed. The Sindar founded many realms among the Silvan Elves in the east, but eventually only two of those realms survived the terrible wars with Sauron. The Edain founded Numenor, returned to Middle-earth, built an empire there, and then were largely seduced by evil and led to their own destruction. Every time that Elves and Men built up something great, Sauron succeeded in tearing it down.

If evil was therefore more successful than good was during the Second Age, love, at least, had a chance to flourish. In so doing, the way was prepared for the conclusion of the long story in the Third Age. Sometimes love produced nothing lasting, however. For example, if we accept (as is indicated by “The History of Galadriel and Celeborn…” in Unfinished Tales) that Celebrimbor was, for some reason, in love with Galadriel, his preoccupation with the Rings of Power and her love for (and marriage to) Celeborn nullified the equity of the tragedy. That is, Celebrimbor’s unrequited love achieved nothing dramatic.

On the other hand, one consequence of Celebrimbor’s folly was that (according to one version of events) Elrond met Celebrian in the refuge he founded in Imladris. Although Tolkien doesn’t say much about Celebrian in the Second Age, she was apparently moving around the map. She joined her parents in Imladris after the War of the Elves and Sauron. So, why did it take so long for Elrond and Celebrian to get together? It would be almost 1850 years before Elrond married Celebrian.

Presumably, motivation was not the problem. Celebrian came from “good” stock. That is, her female relatives were known for their beauty (Galadriel, Luthien, Earwen, Finduilas). Elrond was undoubtedly struck by Celebrian’s beauty when he first met her. And the Eldar often knew early on whom they would marry, but Elrond and Celebrian had apparently been kept apart for many centuries. She must have been more than a thousand years old before she met Elrond. Was the long delay in their meeting instrumental in setting the pace of their relationship? Celebrian seems to have been a free spirit, of sorts. Why else move back and forth between Rivendell and Lothlorien during the Third Age?

On the other hand, we are never told exactly what Celeborn’s feelings toward Elrond were. Not that Celeborn should have hated Elrond, but Tolkien does present Celeborn as a bit haughty. Suppose Celeborn didn’t feel Elrond was quite good enough for his daughter? Thingol initially felt the same way toward Beren. And when Elrond perceived Aragorn’s love for Arwen, he deemed Arwen to be above Aragorn. But Elrond’s love for Aragorn tempered his judgement. And perhaps something more: Elrond knew well the story of his own great-grandparents, Beren and Luthien. Perhaps in reaction to Celeborn’s initial opposition to Elrond’s suit for Celebrian, Elrond had a strong personal reason not to oppose Aragorn suit’s directly.

We are told only that Elrond said nothing of his love for Celebrian when he first met her. The reasons for his silence need not have included any conflict with Celeborn. In “Of the Laws and Customs of the Eldar” (Morgoth’s Ring), Tolkien noted that the Eldar seldom conceived children in times of war. As Gil-galad’s vice-regent in Eriador, and as the leader of the Eldarin defense of eastern Eriador, Elrond may simply have deferred his chances for marriage until a time of peace came. And the histories tell us that the Eldar never again fully knew peace until Sauron departed for Numenor many centuries later. By that time, Celebrian may have been residing elsewhere, and Elrond would have had to wait to press his suit for her love.

For her part, Celebrian, too, may have repressed any feelings she might have had for Elrond. Or, perhaps, she merely didn’t reciprocate his love at first. While it may seem strange that Elrond and Celebrian should have waited so long to get together, they would not necessarily have been the first Eldar to have deferred a marriage. Finduilas loved Gwindor long before she ever met Turin. But they chose not to marry, probably because of the war with Angband. That war, of course, led to their deaths. And passing in death over Sea, their spirits would have dwelled in Mandos until they had been purged of their griefs. Eventually both Finduilas and Gwindor must have been released from Mandos. If they had found the healing there which was appointed them, their love may have flourished in Aman, and they might finally have been wed in the Undying Lands.

Yet, it is more romantic to imagine some barrier to Elrond’s desire for Celebrian, and more in keeping with the tradition of love in Tolkien’s stories. What if Elrond felt the need to earn to Celeborn’s trust and appreciation? If we accept that Celeborn did indeed lead a sortie from Eregion against Sauron’s forces, and that he and Elrond were driven north (as is related in one of the histories of Galadriel and Celeborn), is there reason to ask if Celeborn might have been critical of Elrond? Elrond had, after all, been raised by Maglor, a Feanorian lord and an enemy of Doriath. Would that have been sufficient reason for a conflict between the two?

Elrond had also chosen to live in Lindon, and was close to Gil-galad. Although there is no indication that Celeborn had a problem with Gil-galad (who, as Orodreth’s son, was another of Celeborn’s relatives, both by blood and by marriage), Celeborn is said in one place to have distrusted the Dwarves, due to their part in the destruction of Doriath. Despite his being wed to a Noldorin princess, was Celeborn uncomfortable with the Noldor? And, if so, would Celeborn have deemed Gil-galad to have had closer ties to and greater sympathy for the Noldor than for the Sindar?

Gil-galad had taken refuge with Cirdan on the Isle of Balar after or perhaps before the fall of Nargothrond. Cirdan was another of Thingol’s relatives, and an ancient lord of the Sindar. He must have been a great influence on Gil-galad, and though their people would have been a mixure of Noldor and Sindar, Balar’s culture should have been mostly Sindarin in nature. In fact, the Eldar on Balar should have benefitted the most from living like the Falathrim, Cirdan’s people, who were accustomed to living by and off of the Sea. Celeborn certainly had no reason to dislike or distrust Cirdan.

So, Celeborn seems to have had little reason to dislike Gil-galad. Hence, there should have been no problem between Celeborn and Elrond with respect to Elrond’s association with Gil-galad. In the end, we must either conclude that Celeborn had an undocmented reservation about Elrond (which presumably lasted through the War of the Last Alliance). Or else Elrond (and Celebrian) chose not to pursue a marriage while the Eldar of Middle-earth were under immediate and constant attack.

The Second Age is incomplete not just in the details Tolkien left us about the nations and wars, but also in the stories of the individuals. We have glimpses of tales and shreds of history, personal and great, to appreciate. But the reader is left with an unsatisfied hunger for more. Elrond is probably the most difficult character to understand in the entire mythology. He neither leads his people into destruction, nor saves them. Yet he suffers great loss through no fault of his own, and he accepts the loss with a grace and dignity which is hard to find elsewhere in the Tolkien mythos.

It would help tremendously if we knew the full story concerning Elrond and Celebrian. It’s not like they didn’t have 2400 years together, minus a few vacations to keep the love fires raging. But Elrond, for all his fame as a great warrior, healer, and scholar, really didn’t achieve much. There is conflict around him but not within him. Or, rather, the internal conflicts he strives with are only revealed as backdrops for other characters’ conflicts.

Like the stories of Aldarion and Gil-galad, the story of Elrond is important to the Second Age, and yet we know so little of it. Elrond deserves better than to be endlessly included as a footnote in the histories. He deserves a little pain, after which comes rewarding love, even if it is darkened by Celebrian’s torment amid the Orcs, and subsequent departure over Sea. I’m still hoping we’ll one day be treated to “Of Elrond and Celebrian, and the history of Rivendell”. Maybe there is an unopened box at Marquette University, or in someone’s attic. Keep your fingers crossed.

This article was originally published on April 6, 2001.

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