Disclaimer: I am not J.R.R. Tolkien and I own neither Middle-earth nor The Lays of Beleriand (1985), to which I am once again much indebted.  And “canon” becomes amazingly negotiable when the Unfinished Tales (1980) are brought into play...

being a fantastical account of the Lady Galadriel’s journey to Middle-earth by an unknown author;
edited and with critical comments by Erestor and Melinna of Ered Luin;
preface by the Lord Celeborn of Lórinand,
formerly of Doriath, Sirion and Eregion.

To Thranduil Oropherion Redux and Aislynn Crowdaughter,
the following pages are very respectfully and gratefully inscribed by the author,
in memory of the conversation whence this piece sprang...

And a significant debt is owed to the very late Mrs. Keturah Jeffreys,
whose account of Madagascar and her husband’s missionary career may be found
at the Internet Archive.

***

“... but Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart, for she yearned to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there a realm at her own will.” Silm. 1977: 83–4.

“A wholly different story, adumbrated but never told, of Galadriel’s conduct at the time of the rebellion of the Noldor appears in a very late and partly illegible note...” U.T. 1980: 299.

***

PREFACE

THE workings of the Elvish mind are often marked by a whimsical delight in story-telling beyond the constraints of mere fact. Never is this more plainly apparent than when those who have been long the subject of great admiration, and even adoration, are depicted as the protagonists in their own histories. To them, indeed, most flattering is the experience; a delightful exchange of heroism and untroubled virtue for the miserable and often troublesome truths that necessarily attach to any person who has lived through the troubled and ruinous events of the First and Second Ages of the Sun. But to those around them, – above all, to those attached by bonds of blood or matrimony and a share in that same history, such fantastical tales are naturally adapted to excite less kindly emotions; and were it not for their enduring love and affection, would undoubtedly induce a keen and outraged disbelief.

Such were the feelings experienced by the Writer of this Preface when the following Volume, discovered in Lórinand and comprising a wholly fictive account of the LADY GALADRIEL’S voyage to Middle-earth, was presented to him. From the opening pages, detailing his future wife’s commanding stature in Aman and her unwavering opposition to her kinsman Fëanor, to the account of her later counsels that an unsanctioned war in Middle-earth against Morgoth Bauglir should prove fruitless, it was evident that the unknown author of this supposed Journal had not hesitated to resort to fantastical embellishment in those instances when certain well-known facts of his subject’s life proved unpalatable. The Journal must be considered a token of the respect and affection in which Lady Galadriel is held among the Silvans, since the course of Elvish history has been amended in order that she might be shewn to best advantage. It was therefore deemed fitting for the Journal to be circulated more widely, as a tribute to her genuine virtues and the many commendable deeds in truth accomplished by her, through which she has made herself so beloved.

The Writer of this Preface need not detail the manifold peculiarities of the history on display within the Journal, – that task having been admirably accomplished by the editors in the critical notes that accompany the text, – and he feels the cheering assurance that no person of intelligence could believe such absurdities as his own unaccountable presentation as a prince of the Teleri, one “Teleporno”. The facts of his kinship with Elu Thingol and his honoured position in Doriath before the tragic fall of that glorious kingdom are known to all and require no further elaboration. May the readers of this Journal, ever mindful of the Elvish delight in story-telling, be duly wary of the tale adumbrated by its anonymous author; and this fantastical record of a Lady’s deeds testify not to the events of her true history; but instead, in the full awareness of its provenance, to the remarkable quality of her achievements and person.

LORD CELEBORN OF OF LÓRINAND,
FORMERLY OF DORIATH, SIRION AND EREGION.

Caras Galadhon, Lórinand,
Aug. 11, 2127 T.A.

***

EDITORS’ FOREWORD

WHEN the editors stumbled across a curious document entitled The Journal of Alatáriel, Missionary on a recent visit to Lórinand, our first reaction was naturally amazement; the type and extent of the historical inaccuracies on display was such that it seemed inconceivable that anyone could have taken it seriously as an account of the Lady Galadriel’s journey from Aman to Middle-earth. A little investigation, however, revealed that in certain parts of Lórinand the account detailed by the Journal was not only known but indeed current, especially among the wood’s younger inhabitants. We were therefore obliged to class the Journal as the authentic manifestation of a highly apologetic strand of Silvan thought that seeks to cleanse the object of its attentions from any hint of prior stain or impropriety while simultaneously emphasising or indeed exaggerating the same object’s glorious origins. (A similar tendency has been observed in Eryn Galen, where the tradition that the royal dynasty’s founding father, King Oropher, was a prince of Doriath has almost entirely eclipsed his real origins as a Nandorin prince of Ossiriand and kinsman to Denethor son of Lenwë.) As such, the Journal will be of unique interest to anyone concerned with the history and lore of Middle-earth, and we are grateful to Lord Celeborn for granting us permission to prepare an edited version of the text for further circulation. We would also like to express our thanks to him for supplying the preface to this edition and for his assistance in the preparation of the critical notes, the Lady Galadriel having found herself unable to comment at this time.

E. & M.

Caras Galadhon
August 2127 T.A.

INTRODUCTION

ALTHOUGH the Writer is naturally hesitant to expose herself for public consumption, she feels that some brief account of this, her private Journal, and her purpose in making it more widely available may benefit the Reader. She is the daughter of Finarfin and Eärwen, a princess of the Calaquendi, whose Noldorin wisdom has from her earliest days been allied to the noble and Valar-fearing spirit of her foremother, Indis of the Vanyar. She was in Valinor considered of equal stature to Fëanor himself,[1] although her endowments even then inclined towards not the crafter’s skill but rather the intuition of hearts and minds, through which arts she early became aware of Fëanor’s inner darkness and set herself in every way opposed to him.[2] At the earnest solicitation of her Silvan followers, who have long been eager to absorb every particle of lore she can offer, she is induced to attempt a brief narrative of her journey to Middle-earth, in company with her beloved husband Teleporno,[3] and to offer such information relative to the First Age as her role at the centre of events will enable her to communicate. She will feel highly gratified if what she writes should in any degree contribute to a more widespread awareness and understanding of the Valar and the Blessed Realm among the Silvan populace, whose ignorance of such matters is deeply to be regretted, even while it must be attributed to the distrust and fearful hesitance of their original leaders.[4]

Without farther apology, she proceeds to recount the history of her travels, and commences with her departure from Tirion.

[1] An obvious exaggeration. In Valinor, Lady Galadriel was accorded the respect due to the youngest scion of the third son of the King of the Noldor; she first came to prominence in year 4995 of the Trees, when she was the only woman of Finwe’s house (a family admittedly not overburdened by females; cf. A Genealogical Account of the Noldor, M. of Ered Luin [1720 S.A.]) to join those who led the Noldor into exile.

[2] This attractive notion unfortunately has little basis in fact. It is generally accepted that any antipathy exhibited by Galadriel towards her kinsman Fëanor prior to the ship-burnings at Losgar stemmed from the hostility between Fëanor and her father Finarfin.

[3] It should be wholly unnecessary, even had this very point not been clarified in the Preface, to observe that Lord Celeborn has at no time been known as ‘Teleporno’. The issue of nomenclature is by no means the most peculiar aspect of Lord Celeborn’s presentation in the Journal, as will become apparent.

[4] A clear indication that the Journal could not have been written by Lady Galadriel, who would never express such an uncomplimentary opinion either of the Silvan people (who are by no means ignorant on Valarin matters) nor of the former rulers of Lórien (whose choice to refuse the summons of the Valar was made on the grounds of their people’s love of Middle-earth).

ALQUALONDË AND TELEPORNO

IT was scarcely six months before the assault upon the Trees when, at the suggestion of my mother, I left Tirion for Alqualondë.[1] In speaking thus, I do not intend to impress the Reader with the perception that my decision to dwell for a time among my mother’s people was taken lightly; indeed, I felt most keenly that I was parting from my nearest kin at a time of great peril, and withdrawing from them just when they had the most need of my counsel; and said, “Such is the sorrow of the wise.”[2] But the grace instilled in me by the Valar, to whose cause, I hope, I had sincerely devoted myself, bare up my spirits, and enabled me to proceed, notwithstanding the various concerns that weighed upon me.

My reason for leaving Tirion was this: that I had drunk to its very dregs the cup of knowledge held to Elvish lips by our Valarin guardians. By Varda’s grace, the wheeling stars held no mysteries for me. I had learned the lore of planting and of reaping in Yavanna’s company. My tutelage at Aulë’s forge had instructed me so thoroughly in the theory of craftsmanship that, had I but the desire, I might have devised jewels more desirable than the very Silmarilli.[3] In the gardens of Lórien, I had mastered the iambic tetrameter and rhyming couplet, and my skill with harp and pipes was second to none.[4] There was nothing left to me to learn.[5] I wished therefore to carry this selfsame cup abroad to far-flung lands that had not benefited from such teachings, that I might among such poor and ignorant people, in humble and self-effacing mood, share the rich vintage of my own unsurpassable wisdom.

A second reason for leaving Tirion sprang naturally from the first: that while I lived within the confines of the same city as my kinsman Fëanor, there could not but be hostility between us. For we had been unfriends ever since I had perceived the darkness that had fallen upon Fëanor’s heart and refused him even a single hair from my head, when he came to me three times begging for a tress, saying that in it was snared the light of the two Trees. (It was this fancy, as is well known, that first conceived in him the thought of creating the Silmarilli.)[6] From Fëanor alone did I withhold my goodwill; and I therefore could not bear to remain in Tirion when Fëanor began to speak words of rebellion against the Valar.

My heart was an open book to Manwë, who nonetheless neither forbade me nor granted me permission to depart Aman’s tutelage for the long-abandoned wilds of Middle-earth. Believing that in time I could obtain the blessing of the Valar to carry Their teachings abroad, my thoughts turned to how I might accomplish the journey itself. It was then that my mother recalled to my mind the white ships of her people, the Teleri, who dwell upon the shores of Eldamar. So it was that I departed Tirion.

~*~*~

NOV. 20.[7] To-day we reached Alqualondë. King Olwë, my mother’s father, has given us a very kind reception. He says that I shall be welcome to remain here as long as I please; and that he shall be pleased for me to learn how to sail in the Telerin swan-ships. He has entrusted my education to his grandson, Lord Teleporno,[8] a distinguished youth [9] with the silver hair of the Teleri. Teleporno’s countenance displays an uncommon gravity and nobility; and his manner lacks all that flightiness and inconsistency which too generally mark the Teleri, in particular those who spend much time at sea.[10] Upon our first meeting, he observed with awe the radiance of my hair and countenance and begged that he be permitted to call me, ‘Alatáriel’, which permission I kindly granted to him.[11] Already I feel that he may be trusted with a true account of my purpose in coming to dwell among his people.

The Swan-Haven is very fair. I was much impressed by the abundance of pearls which have been used to adorn the Telerin halls; and when I went out at the second mingling of the lights, I was struck by the brilliant glimmer of jewels strewn heedlessly in the nearby pools and beneath the green waters of the harbour. “There beryl, pearl and opal pale,” indeed![12] When I remarked on this to my guide, he said, “I remember that I was used to play with such stones as a child,” and asked whether I thought the effect pleasing to the eyes. I replied, “Very pleasing; but surely so many gemstones should not be left unattended? Why have they not been gathered up and stored away until some craftsman has need of them? There must be many bushels there.” “Oh, very many,” said he carelessly, “for there are jewels on every shore. We were given them by the Noldor and thought them very pretty. But we have no use for them ourselves, for our ships are the jewels of our hearts and we need no others. Therefore we scattered the stones over the beaches of Elendë.”

At this, I could only shake my head and marvel at the simplicity of the Teleri, who think nothing of casting a treasury of precious stones into the sea. O, that Aulë may come among them and share His lore, that they should no longer live in ignorance of the wealth bestowed upon them by my father’s kin![13]

NOV. 21. My first voyage was scarcely propitious, for no sooner had the ship left the harbour than I was overcome by violent sea sickness. At once Teleporno declared that we should return to Alqualondë, as we duly did, much to my relief. The swell of the sea seemed to me excessive, but Teleporno says that the day was in truth mild and clement. I am assured that the sickness will subside as I accustom myself to the ship’s motion.

DEC. 3. During the last fortnight, the wind has generally been favourable; but, through my own weakness, I have made little progress in learning to sail; yet Teleporno says that I show promise as a sailor. Yesterday, he brought me almost to Tol Erëssea. The island is still home to flocks of white swans and I was considerably surprised when several birds flew down and landed on the deck.

DEC. 10. This day the wind became fair; we had a brisk breeze, and I was shewn how to set the rigging. I am no longer troubled by sea sickness:

“Sings now the Tide that troubles borne
forsaken be: no longer mourn
your griefs – let those who, grieving still,
be unconsoled, come if they will,
beneath the starlight on the shore
– my peace be yours, for evermore!”[14]

DEC. 25. Teleporno praised my learning to King Olwë to-day. I was much gratified by this expression of esteem and afterwards confided in him that I had no mean end in view for his instruction. “I thought you had not,” said he, “for I know you to be a woman of brilliance and great resolve. It is my hope that you will come to have perfect confidence in me.” “Indeed,” I replied, “you shall see that I do,” – and I proceeded to outline my intentions for a voyage to Middle-earth. With the whole scheme having been explained to him, Teleporno at once entered wholeheartedly into all my plans with such enthusiasm as could not but endear him to me. “And I wish,” said he, with a very speaking look, “that I may one day count myself fortunate enough to be blessed with your heart’s affection.” At this, I pressed his hand with my own. “Wish no longer,” I said, “for you have it already.”[15]

So it is that we have determined to build a ship in which we may together sail to Middle-earth. When the ship is ready, we shall seek a blessing from Manwë for both our departure and our marriage. Surely the Valar will not forbid us that?

[1] At this point, a summary account of Lady Galadriel’s historical journey to Middle-earth may be of service to the reader. Her background has been outlined above (‘Introduction’, n.1); having initially joined Fëanor’s revolt, albeit without joining in Fëanor’s oath, in order to seek out a realm of her own in Middle-earth, she observed the sack of Alqualondë from the Noldorin side (cf. below, ‘The Sack of Alqualondë’, n.6) and was later one of the leaders on Fingolfin’s march across the Helcaraxë, after Fëanor abandoned his brother’s people in Araman. It is obvious that the account given in the Journal bears very little relation to reality; indeed, the whole narrative of her visit to and residence in Alqualondë is almost undiluted fiction.

[2] A blatant anachronism. Lady Galadriel could not have quoted a line from the Lay of Leithian (IV.1205) more than an Age before its composition.

[3] With all due respect to Lady Galadriel, the editors beg leave to doubt this.

[4] And this.

[5] The editors are assured that the Calaquendi of the Blessed Realm received more knowledge from the Valar than star-charts, crop cultivation, the fashioning of enchanted baubles and the basics of musical performance and epic composition, all of which had long been common knowledge in Beleriand, either through local ingenuity or the teachings of Queen Melian. The unwillingness of our informants to elaborate, however, on the grounds that such esoteric lore would be of no use in Middle-earth, has so far made it impossible to ascertain any further details. Truly the Blessed Realm must be a place of unimaginable wonder!

[6] This charming story bears all the hallmarks of a traditional folktale. In particular, Fëanor’s thrice-repeated request for a tress of Lady Galadriel’s hair recalls the tendency for events in folktales to occur in multiples of three. We need hardly observe that the whole account is highly fanciful; for the hostility between Lady Galadriel and Fëanor cf. ‘Introduction’ (n.2).

[7] The chronology employed throughout the Journal is clearly anachronistic, relying as it does on a dating system that came into use only with the Ages of the Sun.

[8] Cf. ‘Preface’, ‘Introduction’ (n.3). This transformation of Lord Celeborn of Doriath into a prince of the Teleri can be explained only as part of the anonymous author’s campaign to establish Lady Galadriel as having always had a particularly special relationship with the Silvans, something that would be difficult if it were admitted that in reality she dwelt among the Sindar of Doriath and later Sirion for the better part of the First Age. (The complex and highly obscure details of her activities in Eregion during the Second Age are not even hinted at in this Journal.) By predating her courtship to the pre-Exilic period, the way is clear for her to be depicted as passing swiftly through Beleriand and thence to the Silvan realms. Of course, this account does considerable violence to the facts of the matter and in particular to the person of Lord Celeborn himself. It also seems to have escaped the anonymous author’s notice that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel are here depicted as cousins within the first degree, which in most circles is considered too close for marriage.

[9] Lord Celeborn, having been born before the sunderings, certainly could not have been considered a ‘youth’ at this point.

[10] Another slighting opinion that Lady Galadriel would never have expressed, especially in reference to her mother’s kin.

[11] According to Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel did indeed acquire the name by which she is most commonly known at their first meeting in Doriath, although (needless to say) the circumstances of its bestowal were somewhat different. Note that the Journal’s anonymous author has correctly translated “Galadriel” into its Telerin equivalent, “Alatáriel”, rather than the Quenya form “Altáriel”. Remarkable imagination and frequent anachronisms aside, the author appears to have researched his subject matter with some thoroughness.

[12] Here again the unknown author of the Journal introduces an anachronism by citing a line from the Lay of Leithian (I.15). Incidentally, readers may be interested to know that this line has also crept into the Dwarven lays about the delving of Hadhodrond, the underground city called Khazad-dûm in the Dwarven tongue which has recently achieved notoriety as Moria (Song of Durin [LOTR 1978: 334]).

[13] Cf. n.10.

[14] No less anachronistic than citations from the Lay of Leithian, these lines come from one of Daeron of Doriath’s later songs, ‘Of Wind and Water’ (III.6), composed shortly before he sailed into the West.

[15] Lord Celeborn, reading this passage, was heard to remark that he had a very different recollection of their courtship.

DARKNESS FALLS UPON VALINOR

JAN. 10. My dear Teleporno has commenced building the ship that is to carry us to Middle-earth. The ship’s keel has been laid down and he is selecting wood for the hull. He says that it will be several months before we may put to sea. I continue to improve as a sailor and eagerly anticipate whatever the future may bring. Praise be to the Valar, in Whose service I pass my days! “Blessings spill from Elbereth’s uplifted hands, from the Star-Kindler’s white palms tumble blessings uncounted!”[1]

JAN. 30. To-day letters arrived from Tirion,[2] bringing the painful intelligence of further dissension among the Noldor. Melkor has proven an enemy to Elves and Valar, and Fëanor has been banished from Tirion for drawing his sword upon my father’s brother Fingolfin before my grandfather, King Finwë. Now the shadow that I long perceived over Fëanor’s heart has become plain to all;[3] indeed, the light of the very Trees seems fainter; and yet my grandfather has gone with Fëanor and his sons into exile. O, that this may not lead to the estrangement of my people from the Valar!

When I communicated this intelligence to Teleporno, he was naturally very much perturbed. Nevertheless, seeing my distress, he said to me, “Surely the Valar will not hold a people in despite for the actions of a few?” And through these few words, my mind was comforted.

FEB. 15. The ship grows by daily increments. Yesterday I sailed again with Teleporno in the neighbourhood of Tol Erëssea. No swans flew down from the cliffs to greet us, which seemed to me ominous in the extreme, for we have recently received tidings that Fëanor is making for himself a stronghold at Formenos:

“Where wing the wand’ring wights, keen-eyed,
there watching well be keener eyes.”[4]

Teleporno, however, tells me that the swans of Ossë are very often absent and that Ossë would not send them to spy out my kinsman’s business, as He does not concern Himself with the doings of the Noldor.

MAR. 1. The last fortnight I have been with the goldsmiths, overseeing the construction of the ship’s figurehead. It is shaped in the likeness of a swan, with eyes of black jet and a golden beak, as are those of all Telerin ships. The ship itself is still little more than half-built, but Teleporno says that there is no reason why the figurehead should remain unmade until all the other tasks have been completed. Thus, I have been attempting to share the wealth of Aulë’s wisdom with the craftsmen of Alqualondë, although few are as receptive to my instruction as I had at first expected. The Telerin character is fundamentally unsuited to metalwork, with the exception of silver, which is a very uninteresting material, and lacks the seriousness required to understand the subtleties of precious stones.[5]

There has been no news from Tirion since my father’s last letter. I fear that Lord Tulkas has not been able to discover the whereabouts of Melkor, which causes me great anxiety. Still, it cannot be doubted that the Valar will at the last prevail. How honoured we are to live in Their service!

MAR. 20. Letters have come at last from Tirion. Melkor has been seen – at Formenos! He wished to make an ally of Fëanor, or so my grandfather Finwë’s messengers informed Lord Manwë. Fëanor would have nothing to do with such an alliance and Melkor fled once more into the wilderness. So it is that the light of the Trees is once again unclouded. If only I could believe that Fëanor rejected Melkor because he has rediscovered his faith in the Valar, and not because he perceived Melkor’s desire for the Silmarilli! My mother’s letter tells me that there are those in Tirion, and among the Vanyar most especially, who fear that Fëanor is secretly in league with Melkor. This I cannot believe; for although Fëanor’s heart lies in shadow, he is too envious of the light of the Silmarilli to ally himself with one who desires them as does Melkor. If Fëanor is determined to be Melkor’s enemy, it is not for any admirable reason.

My attempts to communicate the gravity of the situation to King Olwë have met with little success. The Teleri are wholly uninterested in any event that might take place beyond the mountains and they give no thought to anything but the sea. I well recall one occasion when I had spent an hour instructing a young woman of my acquaintance on the significance of the various constellations, and had anticipated that, upon leaving me, she would meditate for a time upon all that I had taught her; only to observe her shortly afterwards walking among the waves and singing the simpleminded ditties of her people! It affords considerable gratification to me that my dear Teleporno is of a more sober and serious disposition than the greater part of his kin.[6]

APR. 4. At Teleporno’s suggestion, I am to sit with the women who will weave the sails for our ship. I have not previously been required to engage in such tedious and domestic activity, but Teleporno tells me that it is usual for the wives and daughters of the Teleri to perform this function. I cannot imagine that it will prove difficult for one such as myself to swiftly master so womanly an art.[7]

Such messages as we have received from Tirion reveal that Melkor’s whereabouts remain unknown. Were it not for the ship and my dear Teleporno, I would feel myself obligated to return to Tirion, that I might share with my kin the benefit of my counsel.

APR. 19. To-day I sailed alone for the first time. Laurelin, that glorious dispenser of light and comfort, was in flower and Her brilliance streamed through Calacyra, the Pass of Light, so that the darkness of the waves was transformed to molten gold. The wings of the small vessel that bore me hither shone with an inly glow and my heart was moved to cry out, “How wondrous are the Valar! how mighty Their deeds! how numerous Their marvels! Who can behold Their works and not sing Their praises?”[8]

MAY 11. Our ship is almost ready to set sail. The figurehead has this very day been set in its place, so that the gleam of her black eyes stares out over the harbour. Only the sails remain to be completed. After the fixing of the figurehead, I walked upon the deck with Teleporno at my side; and, recalling the long anticipated labours that await us, I said, “By this vessel shall many good works be accomplished! Your hands should be blessed for all eternity, even were you not to join me in my mission, Teleporno.” “Yet I shall,” said he, “and I hope to be blessed for more than merely the work of my hands.” “So you shall be,” I said. “For there is no one who does the work of the Valar and is not blessed.”

On our return to the halls of King Olwë, we learned that messengers had come from Tirion, and that their purpose was to bid all Elves to attend the Festival of First Fruits in Lord Manwë’s halls upon Taniquetil in three weeks’ time. This year, Lord Manwë is to hold a feast more glorious than any before; and the divisions between the Noldor are to be closed and the lies of Melkor put aside, through the grace and goodwill of the Valar. Even Fëanor and my grandfather Finwë and those who are now established at Formenos have been summoned back from their exile. It shall be a time of great harmony, and greater healing, and the praises of Eru Ilúvatar shall be sung on every side.

To my dismay, King Olwë has no intention of going to the festival, nor will he bid the Teleri to leave their ships and attend upon Lord Manwë and the Valar. He says that he does not care for such lofty matters, and that the Teleri have no need of such healing, for among them there are no divisions. I was at first greatly affronted, for it is impious so to disregard the will of Lord Manwë; yet, after a moment’s reflection, it occurred to me that this will be for the best, although not for any reasons that King Olwë might put forward. For when I am next in the presence of Lord Manwë, I shall request from Him permission to further His works in the wider world, and I would not for all of Arda cause the joyous occasion of the Festival of First Fruits to be marred by the grief that will spring up among the people when my departure from the Blessed Realm is announced. I have therefore decided, with Teleporno’s acquiescence, to travel to Tirion upon the termination of the festival, so that our petition may be presented to Lord Manwë and the Valar in person. O, that we may soon sail freely and with the blessing of the Valar from Alqualondë’s shining harbour!

JUNE 1. I write this by lantern light. Something wholly incredible and without any rational explanation has occurred: no more than an hour ago, the light of the Trees was extinguished by a darkness more total than any I have ever before known. All of my lore fails in the face of such a calamity. Alqualondë is in an uproar and King Olwë has barely been able to calm his people. He has sent messengers to Tirion in order to seek the reasons for this most unprecedented of occurrences. Until their return, we can only wait and trust in the Valar.

JUNE 5. So grave are the tidings brought to Alqualondë by King Olwë’s returning messengers that I can barely bring myself to write these words. Melkor has made an alliance with the Spider Ungoliant and they have destroyed Telperion and Laurelin. This is the cause of the darkness that has fallen upon the land.

I had not realised before now how pleasant were the songs of the Teleri upon the shore. Now they wail instead, and the sound is like the keening of the gulls.

[1] This line comes from a very ancient song of anonymous authorship that was current among the Sindar during the earliest days of Eglador, the sylvan kingdom later known as Doriath. It is not wholly impossible that it originated in the songs of the Quendi before the Sundering, in which case a version might have been brought by the Calaquendi to Aman; but the editors consider this unlikely.

[2] Except for Lady Galadriel’s residence in Alqualondë and where otherwise noted, this section’s narrative of reported developments in Valinor is substantially correct – if necessarily partial, being filtered through “Alatáriel’s” experience.

[3] Cf. ‘Introduction’ (n.2).

[4] Another bit of verse anachronistically abstracted from the old songs of Eglador. These lines in fact refer to the nightingales of Queen Melian and were composed by the Sindarin minstrel Ivaeron, who was slain when the Noldor sacked Doriath.

[5] Cf. ‘Alqualondë and Teleporno’ (n.10, 13); compare ‘Introduction’ (n.4). The Teleri of Alqualondë were of course famous for their silverwork, to the extent that even the Noldor smiths consulted them on occasion.

[6] Cf. n.5.

[7] Perhaps the clearest indication yet that Lady Galadriel had no hand in the composition of this Journal, since she has been a keen weaver from her earliest years and would no doubt be less than pleased by the implication that her skills were learned from the Teleri, although she makes no secret of her debts to Queen Melian and the weavers of Menegroth.

[8] These lines come from a popular paean to the Valar originally brought to Middle-earth by the hosts of Valinor during the War of Wrath; the editors have been unable to ascertain either its authorship or date of composition, and it is therefore not impossible that (for once) the author of the Journal has managed to place an appropriate citation in Lady Galadriel’s mouth.

THE SACK OF ALQUALONDË

JUNE 10. How swiftly has the joy of the Blessed Realm been darkened and marred by the treachery of Melkor! For the past five days, all of Alqualondë has held its breath, awaiting the moment when the Valar shall rekindle the light of the Trees. Yet the darkness has not lifted and we cannot know Their reasoning, nor do anything but trust in Them. Our faith upholds us, as it has ever done.

Now I fear for my father’s people and their faith in the Valar; for from Tirion have come uncertain and fearful tales that say my grandfather Finwë’s stronghold at Formenos has been assaulted; that my grandfather is slain and the Silmarilli taken; and that all of this has been accomplished by the dark arts of Morgoth [1] and Ungoliant. It is even said that Fëanor has claimed the kingship of the Noldor and sworn open revolt against Lord Manwë. If I were now at Tirion – but I am not, and to wish otherwise serves no purpose, although my people have never needed my counsel more than they do at this moment. I fear the power of Fëanor’s “wild and potent words”[2] almost more than I fear the malice of Morgoth.

JUNE 13. My fear has proven well-founded. These words are written in haste; for Fëanor has come with his sons to Alqualondë, and demanded of King Olwë ships and an alliance against Morgoth. On hearing King Olwë’s refusal, Fëanor departed in anger to the plain where his hosts are gathering. I dare not predict what he may do now.

Teleporno has come to summon me to his grandfather’s council. He is armed and brings a bow for me, should the need arise. I have always known that Fëanor had the capacity to commit acts unimaginable in one of the Eldar;[3] now even the Teleri fear the outcome of my kinsman’s unreasonable fury. It terrifies me that my father and my father’s people are said to be on the road to join Fëanor at this very moment.

JUNE 15. My pen refuses any letters but these:

“There they fought and fell by foes outnumbered,
by treachery trapped at a time of night
when their fires faded and few were waking –
some wakened never, not for wild noises,
nor cries not curses, nor clashing steel,
swept as they slumbered to the slades of death.”[4]

I have neither the words not the will to describe the unholy and sacrilegious carnage that took place yesterday. My attempts to marshal my scattered thoughts are thwarted by the immensity of the devastation that has overcome Alqualondë. “Desolate lay the scarlet field”[5] – and desolate now lie the streets of Alqualondë, streaming scarlet with the blood of the Teleri! The harbour, which only two days past was white with the sails of the Telerin swan-ships, is all but empty. Fëanor has taken the ships by force and his host slaughtered all who stood in their way.

We [6] cast them back from the ships, with our bare hands at first. Then:

“Blades were naked and bows twanging,
and shafts from the shadows shooting wingéd,”[7]

– and there was fighting everywhere upon the white ships and on the quays beneath the light of the lamps, and the gem-strewn shores were spattered in an instant with blood. “In rank on rank of ruthless spears that war-host went,”[8] and although we drove them back three times, at last they overcame us, suffused by reinforcements fresh to the field.[9]

I have some few scattered recollections of fighting upon the bloodied piers at my dear Teleporno’s side. How we managed to preserve the ship that we have been building for all these long months, I do not know. Few others of the swan-ships remain and those of the Teleri who still live are overcome with grief. King Olwë swears that he shall never see a Noldo without wishing him dead; that he shall beseech the Valar for vengeance; and that this slaughter shall not be forgotten for so long as a single mariner dwells in Alqualondë. He has walked among the corpses that line the crimson shore and called upon Ossë for aid. I doubt that Ossë will come, for it seems to me that He would have intervened in the battle, had He been able; but some say that they have heard the sound of Uinen’s weeping on the wind and Teleporno tells me that he has never seen the sea so rough or waves so huge before.[10]

I shall not weep if Fëanor and his sons come to harm in the stolen ships of the Teleri, although I shall grieve for the Elves swept to their watery graves by Fëanor’s fiery words. My one consolation – and it is but slight – is that I saw neither my father nor my brothers anywhere during the fighting. I can only hope that they took no part in this most terrible of Elven deeds.[11]

Both I and Teleporno are still too weary to contemplate how this will affect our plans for the future. We shall take further counsel tomorrow.

JUNE 16. My sleep has been greatly troubled by dreams of the awful events of the last few days. I cannot forget how I saw Elves fall into the harbour’s dark water, pierced by black-feathered arrows from my quiver. I think that I will never be able to look upon Alqualondë again without recalling the slaughter perpetrated by my kin. After much deliberation, therefore, Teleporno and I have arrived at a decision. We are to depart Valinor forthwith.

I would still delay to plead our case before Lord Manwë, were there any likelihood that He might smile upon us; but in the aftermath of Fëanor’s murderous revolt, I do not believe that we would be granted leave to depart Valinor. The prospect of sailing without the Valar’s blessing causes my heart to shudder within me; yet I can bear to remain in Valinor no longer, and the sacred nature of the labours that lie ahead encourages me to believe that our duty lies across the sundering sea. Once we have made ready the ship for the voyage, we shall set sail into the darkness. If we cannot have Their blessing, we shall do Their work nonetheless!

JUNE 18. This day, my affectionate Partner and I took our leave of Valinor. Alqualondë is still awash with grief and Teleporno’s kin begged him to remain – King Olwë’s family was not spared in the awful massacre, and his parents, who have already lost one son to Fëanor’s cruelty, are distraught to think that they shall now lose a second to a greater cause – yet even their tears could not stay our departure. The work that awaits us beyond the ocean is too vital to linger in this besmirched idyll.

Against the utter darkness that clings to the swell of the waves, the sails of our ship are as white as chalk. I am grateful for what little illumination is provided by the lanterns, without which we would be utterly swallowed by the blackness that has fallen over the world with the extinction of the Trees, by whose enduring generosity we Elves have been always nurtured and enlightened.

We passed Tol Erëssea earlier. A single swan flew mournfully overhead, but it did not fly down to greet us. Soon even the isle lay behind us; and, as my lingering looks hovered over the land, I said,

“O Blessed Realm! pledge of the love We bear
For thee, beloved children!”[12]

But, in obedience to the duty that lies upon me, wealthy as I am in the wisdom so abundantly bestowed by the Valar, I can leave thee, and go to distant, impoverished climes; and, in my heart, I repeated those well-known lines of Rúmil’s,

“Commandst Thou in Thy love that we should come
To Thee, for loving Thee be ever love
And life; and we, loving Thee, hence come now,
Across the sund’ring sea; so far, and yet
Wouldst farther go, in furth’rance of our love.
Wouldst cross for Thee the vasty arctic ice;
At Thy command, the sea be naught again;
For but Thy word stands surety ’gainst all harm.”[13]

[1] Melkor had been renamed Morgoth by Fëanor when the latter learned of his father Finwë’s death at Formenos.

[2] The anonymous author again betrays himself by citing the Lay of Leithian (VI.1604). As Lord Celeborn observed, what the author lacks in the way of a grasp of literary history is more than compensated for by his excellent literary taste.

[3] Cf. ‘Introduction’ (n.2).

[4] Here the author includes a stanza from the Lay of the Children of Húrin ([Version 1] II.680–685), the lay composed by Dírhaval of Sirion, the Mannish poet who was slain when the remaining sons of Fëanor sacked that settlement. It is not clear why the author felt that such martial themes might have been prevalent in Valinor at this time; possibly he considered that the songs of the Quendi from the perilous period prior to Melkor’s capture by the Valar would have been preserved and transmitted even in the Blessed Realm. Or it may be that his priority was the selection of thematically suitable verse, and that the anachronism did not occur to him as an issue. (Certainly the latter possibility conforms to his usual modus operandi.)

[5] A line from Daeron of Doriath’s Lament for Denethor (II.548).

[6] The Journal’s account of Lady Galadriel’s role during the sack of Alqualondë is quite straightforwardly untrue. It is generally agreed that she was not among the vanguard of Fingolfin’s host, which arrived at Alqualondë after Fëanor’s assault on the Teleri had begun and joined battle without troubling to discover the cause of the conflict. Most probably, therefore, she did not fight at Alqualondë with the hosts of the Noldor. It is certain, however, that she did not take up arms in defence of the Teleri, as the Journal would have us believe. The presentation of this episode plays a crucial role in the anonymous author’s campaign to transform Lady Galadriel’s history into one of unblemished heroism – a campaign which anyone who lived through the second sack of Doriath will know to be perfectly unnecessary, since the lady’s preservation of King Dior’s daughter Elwing and many of Doriath’s most vulnerable residents without striking a single blow was a deed more truly heroic than anything within the compass of this Journal.

[7] Again the author cites the Lay of the Children of Húrin ([Version 1] II.648–9).

[8] Another citation from the Lay of the Children of Húrin ([Version 1] II.977–8).

[9] The sack of Alqualondë has been extensively catalogued elsewhere; other than the intrusion of Lady Galadriel and “Teleporno”, this brief account is substantially accurate, if more emotive than descriptive. It is agreed that swords were drawn only after the Teleri resisted Fëanor’s assault on their ships; that the Noldor were driven back three times before the arrival of Fingon with the vanguard of Fingolfin’s host; and that the Teleri, most of whom were armed only with hunting bows, suffered massive casualties in the fighting that ensued.

[10] Many of the stolen ships were indeed wrecked by storms shortly after the sack of Alqualondë; according to Maglor’s Noldolantë, the weeping of Uinen caused the sea to rise in wrath against the Noldor, although it has also been suggested that the Noldor were simply incompetent seamen (Pengolodh [139 F.A.: 28]).

[11] Since the people of Finarfin and Finrod came last and late to Alqualondë, travelling at the very rear of Fëanor's hosts, it is entirely possible that this hope (in itself not implausible in the Lady Galadriel's mouth) was not expressed in vain.

[12] Part of ‘Yavanna’s Apostrophe to the Elves’ from The Voyage of the Calaquendi (III. ii. 4–5), attributed to Rúmil of Tirion and brought to Middle-earth by the Valarin hosts in the War of Wrath; this is therefore a rare example of a quotation that would not have been wholly anachronistic in the mouth of Lady Galadriel at this period.

[13] The opening lines of ‘The Reply of the Calaquendi to Oromë’ from The Voyage of the Calaquendi (I. iv. 27–35); cf. n.12.

ARRIVAL IN MIDDLE-EARTH

To reach unharmed the shores of distant Beleriand, and sail into the havens at Eglarest and Brithombar where Círdan is lord, there to be welcomed with great joy as kin to Elwë Singollo, whose name carries some degree of influence in these dark lands, was the source of considerable pleasure to myself and Teleporno. The Falathrim are very much like the Teleri, albeit less advanced in most forms of craftsmanship and artistry than that carefree race, and we swiftly determined that their rudimentary grasp of such matters was more than sufficient for their needs.[1] Since they proved for the most part unreceptive to our attempted instruction, citing instead the lessons of one Melian,[2] the bride of Elwë, we preserved our wealth of lore for more worthy souls. Nonetheless, discovering that Melkor had fled before us to Beleriand, and finding that Middle-earth at this time was too dangerous for extensive travel, we dwelt among the Falathrim and applied ourselves to learning their tongue [3] until the coming of Fëanor’s sons and Fingolfin’s hosts to Middle-earth.

Then Fëanor was slain by the Balrogs of Angband, too late to pay penance for the sack of Alqualondë; and by Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros, the Noldor were again united under the rule of my father’s brother Fingolfin. Learning of these events, and the beleaguerment of Angband, we discerned that we might at last leave behind the safety of Círdan’s haven and press into the furthest reaches of Middle-earth, there to further our hallowed cause. To the unquenchable grief of Círdan and the Falathrim, therefore, Teleporno and I set out into the newly sunlit world.

SEPT. 3. How shall I describe the tumult within my breast on entering this interesting Land, where that purpose for which my life had been designed awaited me? Recollection carried me back to the long years of my discipleship, absorbing the wisdom of the Valar in a spirit of gratitude and humility; and I said, Who can tell, but that soon I shall put my knowledge to the best possible use, – to instruct and inform the natives of Middle-earth, who have long been abandoned to languish in the darkness of ignorance through the fear and superstition of their leaders, rather than any fault of their own.[4] Blessed are they that walk in the ways laid down for them by the Valar!

The country to the east of Eglarest is the very image of picturesque desolation. We had not long passed out from the town’s fair walls, nor had the sights and sounds of the ocean been lost to our ears, when the beautifully sloping meadows became darkened by groves of unruly woods, which grew quite untended over the peaks and along the valleys. The climate is surprisingly cool; being accustomed to the balmy breezes of Valinor, we were unprepared to meet with such extremes of windiness and chill temperatures, but Lord Círdan very kindly supplied us with suitable garments for travelling in Beleriand on our departure from his realms. He has also provided guides who will see us safely to the edge of the Forest of Region; for he informs us that Elwë Singollo dwells there beneath the trees in the company of a number of Dark Elves,[5] and will undoubtedly wish to see us, if only for our kinsman Olwë’s sake.[6]

Teleporno and I have agreed that Elwë’s settlement will be an excellent place to begin our work in Middle-earth. The presence of a loremistress with some small reputation among these untutored people gives us particular hope; there is no doubt that Elwë’s bride, if she is truly wise, will receive us gladly for the sake of the wisdom that we can bestow upon her.[7]

Our journey has so far been lonely; we have met no other travellers on the rough paths indicated to us by our guides. Truly, this country is a wilderness, for all its beauty!

SEPT. 7. About noon, we entered upon a succession of foothills, the slopes of which swiftly gave way to steep and thickly wooded peaks. The ground is very rough and, as we ascended the mountainous slopes, the path dwindled almost to nothingness, so that our progress became very slow. I was perfectly astonished by the ease with which the guides traversed the gullies and broken precipices that hindered my own passage.

We have been informed that these highlands are named Taur-in-Faroth, or “the High Faroth” in a more vulgar parlance. There are still no other Elves to be seen. Previously, or so our guides say, this region had been inhabited by a number of simple hunters; but in recent years, they have been obliged to retreat to Círdan’s havens or to the forests of Region and Neldoreth, for fear of Morgoth’s hordes. So pitiful are the lives of the poor natives, hiding like foxes in their woody dens![8]

SEPT. 15. A violent and unrelenting storm has compelled us to remain under shelter the whole day. To our natural disappointment has been added considerable discomfort; for the caves in which we took shelter, – not without difficulty, for the entrance was perilous to assay, – are filled with dampness and the roaring of nearby water. They are situated on the western side of a steep gorge, below which a foaming stream called the Ringwil joins the rapids of the Narog, a river of tremendous width and speed; and were it not for the precipitous nature of the cliff face, and the noisy tumult of the rapids, the eye would fasten upon this vista as one of rare and fearful beauty.[9] Although we have not ventured far into the caves, it is apparent that these rocky enclosures penetrate very deeply into the mountain, and I dread to think what terrible creatures may have made their lairs in the furthest parts of these subterranean dwellings.

Our guides inform us that the river is too deep and swift to be crossed here, and that we must travel northwards until we reach the juncture of the Narog and the Ginglith.[10] I was overcome by no little dismay at the prospect of such a lengthy and circuitous journey; but on hearing my affectionate Partner express his pleasure that we shall be following, if not the sea, then at least a very great and majestic watercourse, I resolved myself to a likeminded spirit of patience and forbearance.

SEPT. 26. We have forded the Narog. “By the grace of the Valar, all paths shall be open unto you,”[11] and so it proved, although the roughness of the tumbling waters and the strength of the wind caused me to fear for our safety. The crossing was made without mishap, however. Ahead of us lies a vast and beautiful plain;[12] it is well-watered by intersecting rivers and streams, and covered by perpetual verdure, so that the herds of deer that graze here never know scarcity. Numerous groves of upstanding trees imprison many acres of land within the shadow of their spreading branches.

The pleasure which these prospects are adapted to create is damped only by the emptiness of this wilderness; for the natives, even before these lands were overrun by Morgoth’s servants, gave no thought to the most expeditious usage of their copious resources; this heedlessness is no doubt considerably exacerbated by the want of civilization. Had they excitements to diligence, and improvements in agriculture, then these plains, instead of having a few wild deer scattered thinly over them, would be alive with cattle; and a wealth of golden corn would cover the hillsides, recalling the riches of Valinor. O that the plans of myself and my affectionate Partner for evangelizing and civilizing this barbarous land may be met with success![13]

OCT. 10. This morning our guides observed to us that we should reach the heights of Amon Rûdh, or “the Bald Hill”, by nightfall; and shortly before the Sun’s descent beyond the westernmost perimeters of the world, we did indeed arrive at a high and stony peak, situated upon the edge of the moorlands. The upper parts of this startling protrusion are mantled with a plant called by the natives seregon, which is “Blood of Stone”; – for they say that when this plant flowers, it appears as though blood is flowing on all sides from the head of the hill.[14] The cruelty of this image seems to me symptomatic of the moral desolation generally discoverable in the mental processes of the natives, whose long separation from the light and goodness of the Valar has so dulled the innate nobility of their Elvish natures as to render them crude and almost bestial.[15]

From the slopes of Amon Rûdh, it is possible to see the beginnings of the Forest of Region. We are very close to our place of destination now. The vision greatly delighted us; and we said,

“By starlight known, in starlight found –
A! Elbereth! Guide of our lives!
Lead Thou us safe past every foe,
Through Thee alone our spirits thrive.”[16]

OCT. 15. The journey between Amon Rûdh and the outskirts of Region was accomplished with ease, the weather notwithstanding, this having taken an unhappy turn for the worse in recent days. It was with mounting eagerness that we passed between woody pillars that supported a green and leafy roof of great height. “We shall soon be met by the marchwardens of King Thingol, if the Queen wills it,” said our guides, which we thought mere superstition, but in fact proved to be the case; for, not long afterwards, when we had paused to take refreshments, we were startled to find ourselves surrounded by a number of Elves bearing axes and bows.

I was thrown into perturbation by the martial appearance of this encounter, and Teleporno shared my natural alarm; but our guides at once leapt to their feet and proffered effusive greetings to the strangers. These were warmly returned; and, perceiving that we had met Elwë’s marchwardens, I arose with the intention of making my own and my affectionate Partner’s identities known. However, “There is no need for you to name yourselves,” said the leader of the marchwardens, “for the Queen has sent us to bring you safely through the shadows of her Girdle. I know you to be Lady Alatáriel of the Noldor and Lord Teleporno of the Teleri, who have until recently dwelt with Lord Círdan at Eglarest. I am Beleg Strongbow. The King and Queen send their greetings, and would have me welcome you to Doriath.”[17] When our astonishment had abated, we thanked the gentleman for his most gracious welcome, and bade him direct us immediately towards the camp of Elwë Singollo. This appeared to cause him slight confusion; but, after conferring with our guides, he agreed to conduct us thither without further delay.

The woods of Doriath are suffused by a strange and pleasant serenity that somehow recalled to my mind the atmosphere of Valinor; this impression, as I found later, was shared by my dear Teleporno. We had anticipated that the paths to Elwë’s camp would be obscured by weeds and other such impediments, for our Falathrim guides had spoken of a “Girdle” and intimated to us that this “Girdle” sheltered Elwë’s people from discovery by their enemies;[18] but Beleg and the marchwardens instead led us by broad and easily travelled paths along a beautiful river, which Beleg informed us was called the Esgalduin. After journeying for some considerable distance, we arrived at a wide stone bridge, which aroused in us no little surprise; for it had been constructed with such skill and elegance that it would not have appeared out of place in Valinor. “Here,” said our kind guide, “you shall find the camp of King Thingol,” – and he ushered us across the bridge and through the imposing gates that had been erected there.

Our amazement was increased by the sights that now met our wondering eyes. A broad avenue, the walls and ceiling of which were sculpted in perfect imitation of interlinked trees, replete with gilded birds and jewelled climbing creatures, afforded access to a succession of unbelievably huge caves. These were supported by more pillars transformed with consummate skill into stone trees, all with golden lanterns suspended from their branches; the white light issuing from these lanterns illuminated pools as clear as crystal and the brilliant glitter of dancing fountains. Upon the walls were many-hued tapestries illustrating scenes of great majesty. Among all these marvels were disposed numerous Elves, who laughed and talked together as we were ushered through their midst, some making music very beautifully with the harp and pipes or other instruments.

At last we came to a hall more tremendous and remarkable than any of the caves that had preceded it. The impression was of a particularly spacious and ancient grove, and indeed a number of perfectly tame nightingales fluttered among the stone branches; but it was not quiet as such a grove would have been, for a throng of brilliantly dressed Elves filled the hall, and there were children playing noisy games in every corner. As I was rehearsing in my mind the assurances of greeting and goodwill that I had prepared for this moment, I was confronted by a vision that caused the words to die on my lips. Before me stood, as I thought, a lord and lady of the Maiar; both very tall, the former with hair of grey silver and his lady’s tresses as dark as twilight, their faces alight with Aman’s glory.[19]

“In truth, it is plain to see that you are my brother’s descendants,” said the silver-haired lord, stretching out his hands to myself and Teleporno. “I had not thought to see Olwë’s kin within my halls and your coming gladdens my heart. Be ever sure of your welcome in Menegroth, Teleporno and Alatáriel!”

“Welcome indeed,” said his lady, and her voice was sweeter than the singing of the nightingales. She fastened her starlit eyes upon my face and, smiling, said, “For it has come to my ears that your kinswoman is a loremistress, and wishes to educate us in the wisdom of the Valar. There can be little doubt that she knows much we should learn.”

[1] It need hardly be noted that these less-than-complimentary sentiments do not reflect Lady Galadriel’s opinion of the Falathrim.

[2] The history of Melian the Maia Queen of Doriath is far too well-known to require undue elaboration here; that her teachings had thoroughly permeated Beleriand long before the First Age of the Sun is, however, perfectly true.

[3] On their return to Middle-earth, the Calaquendi were of course obliged to relearn “Sindarin”, their dialect having diverged from the ancestral tongue during their residence in Valinor.

[4] This statement may be usefully compared with the comments in the ‘Introduction’ on the regrettable ignorance of the Silvans, also attributed to the faults of their leaders (cf. also ‘Introduction’, n.4); here, however, no distinctions are made between the various peoples of antique Beleriand, nor is there any apparent awareness that they did not share a single, unified culture. We are perhaps intended to assume that Lady Galadriel’s sojourn in Doriath enlightened her on this front, although the Journal contains no explicit statements to this effect. In any case, given Queen Melian’s presence at the centre of Middle-earth’s cultural life, it is certainly not true to talk of ‘abandonment’ or ‘the darkness of ignorance’ in connection with the Elves of ancient Beleriand, although this opinion is wholly plausible when attributed to an Elf newly arrived from Valinor. (Indeed, the editors themselves heard it on the lips of several otherwise perceptive Noldor in the early years of the First Age and during the War of Wrath.)

[5] It is highly unlikely that Lord Círdan would have described Doriath, a locus of Elvish civilisation and lore and one of the greatest kingdoms the world has ever known, in these terms.

[6] Elu Thingol of Doriath and Olwë of Alqualondë were brothers.

[7] Cf. n.2.

[8] A grossly inadequate analogy for the rich and highly sophisticated civilisation at this time flourishing in Doriath; but, again, a not uncommon sentiment among the Exiles at the time of their arrival in Middle-earth.

[9] This description can only be of the gorge of Nargothrond, where Lady Galadriel’s brother Finrod Felagund later delved his stronghold in imitation of Menegroth, the subterranean city of Doriath.

[10] This is quite correct; and indeed there was no easy way to cross the Narog until Túrin son of Húrin convinced the Noldor of Nargothrond (unwisely, as it turned out) to construct a bridge across the river, similar to the structure that afforded access to Menegroth, in order to transport more easily weapons and soldiers between the city and the opposite river bank.

[11] A traditional saying among the Silvans.

[12] Talath Dirnen, the Guarded Plain to the north of Nargothrond.

[13] Cf. n.4, 8.

[14] An accurate description of Amon Rûdh, which later became famous as the home of Mîm the Petty-Dwarf and the temporary refuge of Túrin son of Húrin.

[15] Cf. n.13.

[16] A verse from an ancient paean to Elbereth traditionally sung by the Sindar of Eglador; cf. ‘Darkness Falls Upon Valinor’ (n.1).

[17] A surprisingly plausible first encounter, not least through the invocation of Beleg Strongbow, chief of the marchwardens of Doriath.

[18] This of course refers to “Melian’s Girdle”, the wall of shadow and bewilderment that protected Doriath through the power of Melian after Morgoth’s return to Middle-earth.

[19] A decent, if workmanlike, description of Menegroth and its people in the age of Elu Thingol.

EPILOGUE

There is little to be said about our brief time in Doriath. Our residence in Elwë’s sylvan realm lasted no longer than twenty years of the Sun [1] and was ended by the feast of Mereth Aderthad, held by Fingolfin near the pools of Ivrin. Thither journeyed myself and my affectionate Partner in the company of Elwë’s messengers, Mablung and Daeron, so that I might be reunited with my kinsmen and grant them the benefit of my counsels.[2] This I did, but to little avail; for I knew that the war against Angband was hopeless without the aid of the Valar, whereas my kinsmen were determined to prosecute such a war even under a Valarin ban. Furthermore, my advice that we should withdraw eastwards across the mountains of Ered Luin, befriending and teaching the benighted natives of the region, Elves and Men alike, and thereby prevent Melkor from discovering allies among them, was ill received.[3]

When I perceived that my policy had no hope of acceptance, I said to Teleporno, “We are given wisdom that we may use it, no matter the unwisdom of others;”[4] and when the feast was at an end, we departed eastwards as I had proposed. Thus it was that I first brought the wisdom of the Valar among the Silvan people, in whose earnest and grateful company I have ever after remained.[5]

[1] In fact, of course, Lady Galadriel dwelt in Doriath as Queen Melian’s pupil for the better part of the First Age, having gone with her brother Finrod to visit their kinsman, King Elu Thingol, and remained there upon falling in love with Lord Celeborn.

[2] Technically, it is true that Mablung, Daeron and Lady Galadriel attended Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting; however, they certainly did not do so as a company, since Mereth Aderthad occurred prior to Lady Galadriel’s residency in Doriath and she still dwelt with her brother Finrod at this time.

[3] Here speaks the wisdom of hindsight, perhaps; in reality, this policy is not one that was advocated or even expressed by anyone, much less Lady Galadriel, at any point during the First Age.

[4] A traditional saying among the Silvans.

[5] A statement so grossly untrue that a full monograph would be required to correct it, given the lengthy and intricate sequence of events that eventually brought Lady Galadriel (and indeed Lord Celeborn) from Doriath to Lórinand by way of Sirion, Harlindon, Nenuial, Eregion, Imladris and Belfalas.

A/N.  I usually prefer to leave the links between my stories implicit; but in this specific instance, it seems only fair to point out that Chapter 8 of A Beleriand Treasury of Childish Tales may shed some light upon the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the Journal...