II

THE MUSIC OF THE AINUR

In another notebook identical to that in which The Cottage of Lost Play was written out by my mother, there is a text in ink in my father’s hand (and all the other texts of the Lost Tales are in his hand, save for a fair copy of The Fall of Gondolin*) entitled: Link between Cottage of Lost Play and (Tale 2) Music of Ainur. This follows on directly from Vairл’s last words to Eriol on p. 20, and in turn links on directly to The Mus1ic of the Ainur (in a third notebook identical to the other two). The only indication of date for the Link and the Music (which were, I think, written at the same time) is a letter of my father’s of July 1964 (Letters p. 345), in which he said that while in Oxford ‘employed on the staff of the then still incomplete great Dictionary’ he ‘wrote a cosmogonical myth, “The Music of the Ainur”’. He took up the post on the Oxford Dictionary in November 1918 and relinquished it in the spring of 1920 (Biography pp. 99, 102). If his recollection was correct, and there is no evidence to set against it, some two years or more elapsed between The Cottage of Lost Play and The Music of the Ainur.

The Link between the two exists in only one version, for the text in ink was written over a draft in pencil that was wholly erased. In this case I follow the Link with a brief commentary, before giving The Music of the Ainur.

‘But,’ said Eriol, ‘still are there many things that remain dark to me. Indeed I would fain know who be these Valar; are they the Gods?’

‘So be they,’ said Lindo, ‘though concerning them Men tell many strange and garbled tales that are far from the truth, and many strange names they call them that you will not hear here’ but Vairл said: ‘Nay then, Lindo, be not drawn into more tale-telling tonight, for the hour of rest is at hand, and for all his eagerness our guest is way-worn. Send now for the candles of sleep, and more tales to his head’s filling and his heart’s satisfying the wanderer shall have on the morrow.’ But to Eriol she said: ‘Think not that you must leave our house tomorrow of need; for none do so—nay, all may remain while a tale remains to tell which they desire to hear.’

Then said Eriol that all desire of faring abroad had left his heart and that to be a guest there a while seemed to him fairest of all things. Thereupon came in those that bore the candles of sleep, and each of that company took one, and two of the folk of the house bade Eriol follow them. One of these was the door-ward who had opened to his knocking before. He was old in appearance and grey of locks, and few of that folk were so; but the other had a weather-worn face and blue eyes of great merriment, and was very slender and small, nor might one say if he were fifty or ten thousand. Now that was Ilverin or Littleheart. These two guided him down the corridor of broidered stories to a great stair of oak, and up this he followed them. It wound up and round until it brought them to a passage lit by small pendent lamps of coloured glass, whose swaying cast a spatter of bright hues upon the floors and hangings.

In this passage the guides turned round a sudden corner, then going down a few dark steps flung open a door before him. Now bowing they wished him good sleep, and said Littleheart: ‘dreams of fair winds and good voyages in the great seas’, and then they left him; and he found that he stood in a chamber that was small, and had a bed of fairest linen and deep pillows set nigh the window—and here the night seemed warm and fragrant, although he had but now come from rejoicing in the blaze of the Tale-fire logs. Here was all the furniture of dark wood, and as his great candle flickered its soft rays worked a magic with the room, till it seemed to him that sleep was the best of all delights, but that fair chamber the best of all for sleep. Ere he laid him down however Eriol opened the window and scent of flowers gusted in therethrough, and a glimpse he caught of a shadow-filled garden that was full of trees, but its spaces were barred with silver lights and black shadows by reason of the moon; 1yet his window seemed very high indeed above those lawns below, and a nightingale sang suddenly in a tree nearby.

Then slept Eriol, and through his dreams there came a music thinner and more pure than any he heard before, and it was full of longing. Indeed it was as if pipes of silver or flutes of shape most slender-delicate uttered crystal notes and threadlike harmonies beneath the moon upon the lawns; and Eriol longed in his sleep for he knew not what.

When he awoke the sun was rising and there was no music save that of a myriad of birds about his window. The light struck through the panes and shivered into merry glints, and that room with its fragrance and its pleasant draperies seemed even sweeter than before; but Eriol arose, and robing himself in fair garments laid ready for him that he might shed his raiment stained with travel went forth and strayed about the passages of the house, until he chanced upon a little stairway, and going down this he came to a porch and a sunny court. Therein was a lattice-gate that opened to his hand and led into that garden whose lawns were spread beneath the window of his room. There he wandered breathing the airs and watching the sun rise above the strange roofs of that town, when behold the aged door-ward was before him, coming along a lane of hazel-bushes. He saw not Eriol, for he held his head as ever bent towards the earth, and muttered swiftly to himself; but Eriol spake bidding him good morrow, and thereat he started.

Then said he: вour pardon, sir! I marked you not, for I was listening to the birds. Indeed sir you find me in a sour temper; for lo! here I have a black-winged rogue fat with impudence who singeth songs before unknown to me, and in a tongue that is strange! It irks me sir, it irks me, for methought at least I knew the simple speeches of all birds. I have a mind to send him down to Mandos for his pertness!в™At this Eriol laughed heartily, but said the door-ward: вay sir, may Tevildo Prince of Cats harry him for daring to perch in a garden that is in the care of RГmil. Know you that the Noldoli grow old astounding slow, and yet have I grey hairs in the study of all the tongues of Valar and of Eldar. Long ere the fall of Gondolin, good sir, I lightened my thraldom under Melko in learning the speech of all monsters and goblinsв”ave I not conned even the speeches of beasts, disdaining not the thin voices of the voles and mice?в”ave I not cadged a stupid tune or two to hum of the speechless beetles? Nay, I have worried at whiles even over the tongues of Men, but Melko take them! they shift and change, change and shift, and when you have them are but a hard stuff whereof to labour songs or tales. Wherefore is it that this morn I felt as Гmar the Vala who knows all tongues, as I hearkened to the blending of the voices of the birds comprehending each, recognising each well-loved tune, when tirГpti lirilla here comes a bird, an imp of Melkoв”ut I weary you sir, with babbling of songs and words.в™/p>

вay, not so,в™quoth Eriol, вut I beg of you be not disheartened by one fat imp of an ousel. If my eyes deceive not, for a good age of years you have cared for this garden. Then must you know store of songs and tongues sufficient to comfort the heart of the greatest of all sages, if indeed this be the first voice that you have heard therein, and lacked its interpretation. Is it not said that the birds of every district, nay almost of every nest, speak unalike?в™/p>

вЂTis said so, and said truly,в™quoth RГmil, вnd all the songs of Tol EressГa are to be heard at times within this garden.в™/p>

вore than heart-content am I,в™said Eriol, вo have learned that one fair tongue which the Eldar speak about this isle of Tol EressГaв”ut I marvelled to hear you speak as if there were many speeches of the Eldar: are there so?в™/p>