I. THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE LEGEND. In February 1968 my father addressed a commentary to the authors of an article about him (The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien no. 294). In the course of this he recorded that 'one day' C. S. Lewis said to him that since 'there is too little of what we really like in stories' they would have to try to write some themselves. He went on: We agreed that he should try 'space-travel', and I should try 'time- travel'. His result is well known. My effort, after a few promising chapters, ran dry: it was too long a way round to what I really wanted to make, a new version of the Atlantis legend. The final scene survives as The Downfall of Numenor.* Afewyearsearlier, in a letter of July 1964 (Letters no. 257), he gave some account of his book, The Lost Road: When C. S. Lewis and I tossed up, and he was to write on space-travel and I on time-travel, I began an abortive book of time-travel of which the end was to be the presence of my hero in the drowning of Atlantis. This was to be called Numenor, the Land in the West. The thread was to be the occurrence time and again in human families (like Durin among the Dwarves) of a father and son called by names that could be interpreted as Bliss-friend and Elf-friend. These no longer understood are found in the end to refer to the Atlantid-Numenorean situation and mean 'one loyal to the Valar, content with the bliss and prosperity within the limits prescribed' and 'one loyal to friendship with the High-elves'. It started with a father-son affinity between Edwin and Elwin of the present, and was supposed to go back into legendary time by way of an Eadwine and AElfwine of circa A.D.918, and Audoin and Alboin of Lombardic legend, and so to the traditions of the North Sea concerning the coming of corn and culture heroes, ancestors of kingly lines, in boats (and their departure in funeral ships). One such Sheaf, or Shield Sheafing, can actually be made out as one of the remote ancestors of the present Queen. In my tale we were to come at last to Amandil and Elendil leaders of the loyal party in Numenor, when it fell under the domination of Sauron. Elendil 'elf-friend' was the founder of the Exiled kingdoms in Arnor and Gondor. But I found my (* This is Akallabeth, The Downfall of Numenor, posthumously published in The Silmarillion, pp. 259-82.) real interest was only in the upper end, the Akallabeth or Atalantie* ('Downfall' in Numenorean and Quenya), so I brought all the stuff I had written on the originally unrelated legends of Numenor into relation with the main mythnlogy. I do not know whether evidence exists that would date the conversation that led to the writing of Out of the Silent Planet and The Last Road, but the former was finished by the autumn of 1937, and the latter was submitted, so far as it went, to Allen and Unwin in November of that year (see 1 II.364). The significance of the last sentence in the passage just cited is not entirely clear. When my father said 'But I found my real interest was only in the upper end, the Akallabeth or Atalantie' he undoubtedly meant that he had not been inspired to write the 'intervening' parts, in which the father and son were to appear and reappear in older and older phases of Germanic legend; and indeed The Lost Road stops after the introductory chapters and only takes up again with the Numenorean story that was to come at the end. Very little was written of what was planned to lie between. But what is the meaning of 'so I brought all the stuff I had written on the originally unrelated legends of Numenor into relation with the main mythology'? My father seems to be saying that, having found that he only wanted to write about Numenor, he therefore and only then (abandoning The Last Road) appended the Numenorean material to 'the main mythology', thus inaugurating the Second Age of the World. But what was this material? He cannot have meant the Numenorean matter contained in The Lost Road itself, since that was already fully related to 'the main mythology'. It must therefore have been something else, already existing when The last Road was begun, as Humphrey Carpenter assumes in his Biography (p. 170): 'Tolkien's legend of Numenor... was prohably composed some time before the writing of "The Lost Road", perhaps in the late nineteen-twenties or early thirties.' But, in fact, the conclusion seems to me inescapable that my father erred when he said this. The original rough workings for The Lost Road are extant, but they are very rough, and do not form a continuous text. There is one complete manuscript, itself fairly rough and heavily emended in different stages; and a professional typescript that was done when virtually all changes had been made to the manuscript. f The typescript breaks off well before ] Amroth wrestled with Thu and drove him to the centre of the Earth' (at the beginning of the text Agaldor is named as the chief of a people living on the North-west coasts of Middle- earth). The longevity of the Numenoreans is already present, but (even allowing for the compression and distortion inherent in such 'outlines' of my father's, in which he attempted to seize and dash onto paper a bubbling up of new ideas) seems to have far less significance than it would afterwards attain; and is ascribed, strangely, to 'the radiance of Valinor', in which the mariners of Numenor were 'bathed' during their visits to Tol-eressea, to which they were permitted to sail. Cf. the Quenta, IV.98: Still therefore is the light of Valinor more great and fair than that of other lands, because there the Sun and Moon together rest a while before they go upon their dark journey under the world'; but this does not seem a sufficient or satisfactory explanation of the idea (see further p. 20). The mortuary culture of the Numenoreans does indeed appear, but it arose among the survivors of Numenor in Middle-earth, after the Downfall; and this remained into more developed forms of the legend, as did the idea of the flying ships which the exiles built, seeking to sail on the Straight Path through Ilmen, but achieving only flight through the lower air, Wilwa.* The sentence 'Thu comes to Atalante, herald[ing] the approach of Morgoth' certainly means that Thu prophesied Morgoth's return, as in subsequent texts. The meaning of 'But Morgoth cannot come except as a spirit' is made somewhat clearer in the next version, $5. (ii) The first version of The Fall of Numenor. The preliminary outline was the immediate precursor of a first full narrative - the manuscript described above (p. 9), placed with The Lost Road. This was followed by further versions, and I shall refer to the work as a whole (as distinct from the Akallabeth, into which it was afterwards transformed) as The Fall of Numenor, abbreviated 'FN'; the first text has no title, but I shall call it 'FN I'. FN I is rough and hasty, and full of corrections made at the time of composition; there are also many others, mostly slight, made later and moving towards the second version FN II. I give it as it was written, without the second layer of emendations (except in so far as these make small necessary corrections to clarify the sense). As explained in the Preface, here as elsewhere I have introduced paragraph numbers into the text to make subsequent reference and comparison easier. A com- mentary, following the paragraphing of the text, follows at its end. $1 In the Great Battle when Fionwe son of Manwe over- threw Morgoth and rescued the Gnomes and the Fathers of Men, many mortal Men took part with Morgoth. Of these those that were not destroyed fled into the East and South of the World, and the servants of Morgoth that escaped came to them and guided (* Although this text has the final form Ilmen, beside Silma > Ilma > Ilmen in the Ambarkanta, Wilwa was replaced in the Ambarkanta by Vista). them; and they became evil, and they brought evil into many places where wild Men dwelt at large in the empty lands. But after their victory, when Morgoth and many of his captains were bound, and Morgoth was thrust again into the Outer Darkness, the Gods took counsel. The Elves were summoned to Valinor, as has been told, and many obeyed, but not all. But the Fathers of Men, who had served the Eldar, and fought against Morgoth, were greatly rewarded. For Fionwe son of Manwe came among them and taught them, and gave them wisdom, power and life stronger than any others of the Second Kindred. $2. And a great land was made for them to dwell in, neither part of Middle-earth nor wholly separate from it. This was raised by Osse out of the depths of Belegar, the Great Sea, and estab- lished by Aule, and enriched by Yavanna. It was called Numenor, that is Westernesse, and Andunie or the Sunsetland, and its chief city in the midmost of its western coasts was in the days of its might called Numar or Numenos; but after its fall it was named in legend Atalante, the Ruin. $3. For in Numenore a great people arose, in all things more like the First Kindred than any other races of Men that have been, yet less fair and wise than they, though greater in body. And above all their arts the people of Numenor nourished shipbuilding and sea-craft, and became mariners whose like shall never be again, since the world was diminished. They ranged from Tol-eressea, where for many ages they still had converse and dealings with the Gnomes, to the shores of Middle-earth, and sailed round to the North and South, and glimpsed from their high prows the Gates of Morning in the East. And they appeared among the wild Men, and filled them with wonder and also with fear. For many esteemed them to be Gods or sons of Gods out of the West, and evil men had told them lies concerning the Lords of the West. But the Numenoreans tarried not long yet in Middle-earth, for their hearts hungered ever westward for the undying bliss of Valinor. And they were restless and pursued with desire even at the height of their glory. But the Gods forbade them to sail beyond the Lonely Isle, and would not permit any save their kings (once in each life before he was crowned) to land in Valinor. For they were mortal Men, and it was not in the power and right of Manwe to alter their fate. Thus though the people were long-lived, since their land was more nigh than other lands to Valinor, and many had looked long on the radiance of the Gods that came faintly to Tol-eressea, they remained mortal, even their kings, and their span brief in the eyes of the Eldar. And they murmured against this decree. And a great discontent grew among them; and their masters of lore sought unceasingly for the secrets that should prolong their lives, and they sent spies to seek these in Valinor. And the Gods were angered. And in time it came to pass that Sur (whom the Gnomes called Thu) came in the likeness of a great bird to Numenor and preached a message of deliverance, and he prophesied the second coming of Morgoth. But Morgoth did not come in person, but only in spirit and as a shadow upon the mind and heart, for the Gods shut him beyond the Walls of the World. But Sur spake to Angor the king and Istar his queen, and promised them undying life and lordship of the Earth. And they believed him and fell under the shadow, and the greatest part of the people of Numenor followed them. Angor raised a great temple to Morgoth in the midst of the land, and Sur dwelt there. $6. But in the passing of the years Angor felt the oncoming of old age, and he was troubled; and Sur said that the gifts of Morgoth were withheld by the Gods, and t hat to obtain plenitude of power and undying life he must be master of the West. Wherefore the Numenoreans made a great armament; and their might and skill had in those days become exceedingly great, and they had moreover the aid of Sur. The fleets of the Numenoreans were like a great land of many islands, and their masts like a forest of mountain-trees, and their banners like the streamers of a thunderstorm, and their sails were black. And they moved slowly into the West, for all the winds were stilled and the world lay silent in the fear of that time. And they passed Tol-eressea, and it is said that the Elves mourned and grew sick, for the light of Valinor was cut off by the cloud of the Numenoreans. But Angor assailed the shores of the Gods, and he cast bolts of thunder, and fire came upon the sides of Taniquetil. But the Gods were silent. Sorrow and dismay were in the heart of Manwe, and he spoke to Iluvatar, and took power and counsel from the Lord of All; and the fate and fashion of the world was changed. For the silence of the Gods was broken suddenly, and Valinor was sundered from the earth, and a rift appeared in the midst of Belegar east of Tol-eressea, and into this chasm the great seas plunged, and the noise of the falling waters filled all the earth and the smoke of the cataracts rose above the tops of the everlasting mountains. But all the ships of Numenor that were west of Tol-eressea were drawn down into the great abyss and drowned, and Angor the mighty and Istar his queen fell like stars into the dark, and they perished out of all knowledge. And the mortal warriors that had set foot in the land of the Gods were buried under fallen hills, where legend saith that they lie im- prisoned in the Forgotten Caves until the day of Doom and the Last Battle. And the Elves of Tol-eressea passed through the gates of death, and were gathered to their kindred in the land of the Gods, and became as they; and the Lonely Isle remained only as a shape of the past. $8. But Iluvatar gave power to the Gods, and they bent back the edges of the Middle-earth, and they made it into a globe, so that however far a man should sail he could never again reach the true West, but came back weary at last to the place of his beginning. Thus New Lands came into being beneath the Old World, and all were equally distant from the centre of the round earth; and there was flood and great confusion of waters, and seas covered what was once the dry, and lands appeared where there had been deep seas. Thus also the heavy air flowed round all the earth in that time, above the waters; and the springs of all waters were cut off from the stars. $9. But Numenor being nigh upon the East to the great rift was utterly thrown down and overwhelmed in sea, and its glory perished. But a remnant of the Numenoreans escaped the ruin in this manner. Partly by the device of Angor, and partly of their own will (because they revered still the Lords of the West and mis- trusted Sur) many had abode in ships upon the east coast of their land, lest the issue of war be evil. Wherefore protected for a while by the land they avoided the draught of the sea, and a great wind arose blowing from the gap, and they sped East and came at length to the shores of Middle-earth in the days of ruin. $10. There they became lords and kings of Men, and some were evil and some were of good will. But all alike were filled with desire of long life upon earth, and the thought of Death was heavy upon them; and their feet were turned east but their hearts were westward. And they built mightier houses for their dead than for their living, and endowed their buried kings with unavailing treasure. For their wise men hoped ever to discover the secret of prolonging life and maybe the recalling of it. But it is said that the span of their lives, which had of old been greater than that of lesser races, dwindled slowly, and they achieved only the art of pre- serving uncorrupt for many ages the dead flesh of men. Wherefore the kingdoms upon the west shores of the Old World became a place of tombs, and filled with ghosts. And in the fantasy of their hearts, and the confusion of legends half-forgotten concerning that which had been, they made for their thought a land of shades, filled with the wraiths of the things of mortal earth. And many deemed this land was in the West, and ruled by the Gods, and in shadow the dead, bearing the shadows of their possessions, should come there, who could no more find the true West in the body. For which reason in after days many of their descendants, or men taught by them, buried their dead in ships and set them in pomp upon the sea by the west coasts of the Old World. $11. )u$ round. And many abandoned the Gods, and put them out of their legends, and even out of their dreams. But Men of Middle-earth looked on them with wonder and great fear, and took them to be gods; and many were content that this should be so. $13. But not all the hearts of the Numenoreans were crooked; and the lore of the old days descending from the Fathers of Men, and the Elf-friends, and those instructed by Fionwe, was pre- served among some. And they knew that the fate of Men was not bounded by the round path of the world, nor destined for the straight path. For the round is crooked and has no end but no escape; and the straight is true, but has an end within the world, and that is the fate of the Elves. But the fate of Men, they said, is neither round nor ended, and is not within the world. And they remembered from whence the ruin came, and the cutting off of Men from their just portion of the straight path; and they avoided the shadow of Morgoth according to their power, and hated Thu. And they assailed his temples and their servants, and there were wars of allegiance among the mighty of this world, of which only the echoes remain. $14. But there remains still a legend of Beleriand: for that land in the West of the Old World, although changed and broken, held still in ancient days to the name it had in the days of the Gnomes. And it is said that Amroth was King of Beleriand; and he took counsel with Elrond son of Earendel, and with such of the Elves as remained in the West; and they passed the mountains and came into inner lands far from the sea, and they assailed the fortress of Thu. And Amroth wrestled with Thu and was slain; but Thu was brought to his knees, and his servants were dispelled; and the peoples of Beleriand destroyed his dwellings, and drove him forth, and he fled to a dark forest, and hid himself. And it is said that the war with Thu hastened the fading of the Eldar, for he had power beyond their measure, as Felagund King of Nargothrond had found in the earliest days; and they expended their strength and substance in the assault upon him. And this was the last of the services of the older race to Men, and it is held the last of the deeds of alliance before the fading of the Elves and the estrangement of the Two Kindreds. And here the tale of the ancient world, as the Elves keep it, comes to an end. Commentary on the first version of The Fall of Numenor. $1. As Q $18 was first written (IV. 158), it was permitted by Fionwe that 'with the Elves should those of the race of Hador and Beor alone be suffered to Jepart, if they would. But of these only Elrond was now left...' On this extremely puzzling passage see the commentary, IV. zoo, where I suggested that obscure as it is it represents 'the first germ of the story of the departure of the Elf-friends to Numenor.' It was removed in the rewriting, Q II $18, where there appears a reference to Men of Hithlum who 'repentant of their evil servitude did deeds of valour, and many beside of Men new come out of the East', but now no mention of the Elf-friends. A final hasty revision of the passage (IV. 163, notes 2 and 3) gave: And it is said that all that were left of the three Houses of the Fathers of Men fought for Fionwe, and to them were joined some of the Men of Hithlum who repenting of their evil servitude did deeds of valour... But most Men, and especially those new come out of the East, were on the side of the Enemy. This is very close to, and no doubt belongs in fact to the same time as, the corresponding passage in the following version of 'The Sil- marillion' (QS*, p. 328 $16), which however omits the reference to the Men of Hithlum. I have little doubt that this development came in with the emergence of Numenor. Here first appear the names Andunie' (but as a name of the island, translated 'the Sunsetland'), and Numenor itself (which does not occur in the preliminary outline, though the people are there called Numenorie' and Numenoreans). The chief city is called Numar or Numenos, which in the outline were the names of the land. The name Belegar was emended later, here and in $7, to Belegaer. After the words enriched by Yavanna the passage concerning names was early replaced as follows: It was called by the Gods Andor, the Land of Gift, but by its own folk Vinya, the Young; but when the men of that land spake of it to the men of Middle-earth they named it Numenor, that is Westernesse, for it lay west of all lands inhabited by mortals. Yet it was not in the true West, for there was the land of the Gods. The chief city of Numenor was in the midmost of its western coasts, and in the days of its might it was called Andunie, because it faced the sunset; but after its fall it was named in the legends of those that fled from it Atalante the Downfall. Here first appears Andor, Land of Gift, and also the name given to the land by the Numenoreans, Vinya, the Young, which did not survive in the later legend (cf. Vinyamar, Vinyalonde', Index to Unfinished Tales); Andunie' now becomes the name of the chief city. In the text as originally written the name Atalante' could refer either to the land or the city, but in the rewriting it can only refer to the city. It seems (* Throughout this book the abbreviation 'QS' (Quenta Silmarillion) is used for the version interrupted near the end of I937; see pp. 107- 8). unlikely that my father intended this; see the corresponding passage in FN II and commentary. $3. The permission given to the Numenoreans to sail as far west as Tol- eressea, found already in the original outline, contrasts with the Akallabeth (pp. 262 - 3), where it is told that they were forbidden 'to sail so far westward that the coasts of Numenor could no longer be seen', and only the most keen-sighted among them could descry far off the tower of Avallone on the Lonely Isle. The Gates of Morning reappear, remarkably, from the Lost Tales (I. 216). In the original astronomical myth the Sun passed into the Outer Dark by the Door of Night and re-entered by the Gates of Morn; but with the radical transformation of the myth that entered with the Sketch of the Mythology (see IV. 49), and is found in the Quenta and Ambarkanta, whereby the Sun is drawn by the servants of Ulmo beneath the roots of the Earth, the Door of Night was given a different significance and the Gates of Morn no longer appear (see IV. 252, 255). How the reference to them here (which survives in the Akallabeth, p. 263) is to be understood I am unable to say. In this paragraph is the first occurrence of the expression The Lords of the West. The words save their kings (once in each life before he was crowned) were early placed in square brackets. In the conclusion of QS (p. 326 $$8 - 9) the prohibition appears to be absolute, not to be set aside for any mortal; there Mandos says of Earendel 'Now he shall surely die, for he has trodden the forbidden shores', and Manwe says 'To Earendel I remit the ban, and the peril that he took upon himself.' Later (as noted under $3 above) the Ban extended also, and inevitably, to Tol- eressea ('easternmost of the Undying Lands', the Akallabeth, p. 263). The ascription of the longevity of the Numenoreans to the light of Valinor appeared already in the original outline, and I cited (p. 13) the passage from the Quenta where it is said that the light of Valinor was greater and fairer than in the other lands 'because there the Sun and Moon together rest a while.' But the wording here, 'the radiance of the Gods that came faintly to Tol-eressea', surely implies a light of a different nature from that of the Sun and Moon (which illumine the whole world). Conceivably, the further idea that appears in the corresponding passage in QS ($79) is present here: 'moreover the Valar store the radiance of the Sun in many vessels, and in vats and pools for their comfort in times of dark.' The passage was later enclosed in brackets, and it does not appear in FN II; but at a subsequent point in the narrative ($6) the Elves of Tol-eressea mourned 'for the light of Valinor was cut off by the cloud of the Numenoreans', and this was not rejected. Cf. the Akallabeth (p. 278): 'the Eldar mourned, for the light of the setting sun was cut off by the cloud of the Numenoreans.' With what is said here of Morgoth's not returning 'in person', for he was shut beyond the Walls of the World, 'but only in spirit and as a shadow upon the mind and heart', cf. the Quenta (IV. 164): 'Some say also that Morgoth at whiles secretly as a cloud that cannot be seen or felt... creeps back surmounting the Walls and visiteth the world' (a passage that survived in QS, pp. 332-3 $30). The concluding sentence concerning the Elves of Tol-eressea was an addition, but one that looks as if it belongs with the writing of the text. It is very hard to interpret. The rift in the Great Sea appeared east of Tol-eressea, but the ships that were west of the isle were drawn down into the abyss; and it might be concluded from this that Tol- eressea also was swallowed up and disappeared: so the Elves who dwelt there 'passed through the gates of death, and were gathered to their kindred in the land of the Gods', and 'the Lonely Isle remained only as a shape of the past.' But this would be very strange, for it would imply the abandonment of the entire story of AElfwine's voyage to Tol- eressea in ages after; yet AElfwine as recorder and pupil was still present in my father's writings after the completion of The Lord of the Rings. On the diagram of the World Made Round accompanying the Ambarkanta (IV. 247) Tol-eressea is marked as a point on the Straight Path. Moreover, much later, in the Akallabeth (pp. 278 - 9), the same is told of the great chasm: it opened 'between Numenor and the Deathless Lands', and all the fleets of the Numenoreans (which had passed on to Aman and so were west of Tol-eressea) were drawn down into it; but 'Valinor and Eressea were taken from [the world] into the realm of hidden things.' $8 The concluding sentence ('Thus also the heavy air...') is a marginal addition which seems certainly to belong with the original text. It has no mark for insertion, but must surely be placed here. $10 The desire to prolong life was already a mark of the Numenoreans ($4), but the dark picture in the Akallabeth (p. 266) of a land of tombs and embalming, of a people obsessed with death, was not present. At this stage in the evolution of the legend, as already in the preliminary outline, the tomb-culture arose among the Numenoreans who escaped the Downfall and founded kingdoms in the 'Old World': whether of good or evil disposition 'all alike were filled with desire of long life upon earth, and the thought of Death was heavy upon them', and it was the life-span of the Exiles, as it appears, that slowly dwindled. There are echoes of the present passage in the Akallabeth account of Numenor after the Shadow fell upon it in the days of Tar-Atanamir (cf. Unfinished Tales p. 221); but in the very different context of the original story, when this culture arose among those who survived the Cataclysm and their descendants, other elements were present: for the Gods were now removed into the realm of the unknown and unseen, and they became the 'explanation' of the mystery of death, their dwelling-place in the far West the region to which the dead passed with their possessions. In 'The Silmarillion' the Gods are 'physically' present, because (whatever the actual mode of their own being) they inhabit the same physical world, the realm of the 'seen'; if, after the Hiding of Valinor, they could not be reached by the voyages sent out in vain by Turgon of Gondolin, they were nonetheless reached by Earendel, sailing from Middle-earth in his ship Wingelot, and their physical intervention of arms changed the world for ever through the physical destruction of the power of Morgoth. Thus it may be said that in 'The Silmarillion' there is no 'religion', because the Divine is present and has not been 'displaced'; but with the physical removal of the Divine from the World Made Round a religion arose (as it had arisen in Numenor under the teachings of Thu concerning Morgoth, the banished and absent God), and the dead were despatched, for religious reasons, in burial ships on the shores of the Great Sea. $12 'But upon the straight road only the Gods and the vanished Elves could walk, or such as the Gods summoned of the fading Elves of the round earth, who became diminished in substance as Men usurped the sun.' Cf. the Quenta, IV. 100 - 1, as emended (a passage that goes back to the Sketch of the Mythology, IV. 21): In after days, when because of the triumph of Morgoth Elves and Men became estranged, as he most wished, those of the Eldalie that still lived in the world faded, and Men usurped the sunlight. Then the Eldar wandered in the lonelier places of the Outer Lands, and took to the moonlight and to the starlight, and to the woods and caves, and became as shadows, wraiths and memories, such as set not sail unto the West and vanished from the world. This passage survived very little changed in QS ($87). I believe that the story of the flying ships built by the exiled Numenoreans, found already in the preliminary draft (p. 12), is the sole introduction of aerial craft in all my father's works. No hint is given of the means by which they rose and were propelled; and the passage did not survive into the later legend. $I3. It is a curious feature of the original story of Numenor that there is no mention of what befell Thu at the Downfall (cf. the Akallabeth p. 280); but he reappears here as a master of temples (cf. the Lay of Leithian lines 2064 - 7), dwelling in a fortress ($14), an object of hatred to those of the survivors of Numenor who retained something of the ancient knowledge. $14. In the Quenta (IV. 160 - 1) it is told that in the Great Battle the Northern regions of the Western world were rent and riven, and the sea roared in through many chasms, and there was confusion and great noise; and the rivers perished or found new paths, and the valleys were upheaved and the hills trod down, and Sirion was no more. Then Men fled away... and long was it ere they came back over the mountains to where Beleriand once had been. The last words of the earliest Annals of Beleriand (IV. 310) are 'So ended the First Age of the World and Beleriand was no more.' It is also said in the Quenta (IV. 162) that after the War was ended 'there was a mighty building of ships on the shores of the Western Sea, and especially upon the great isles, which in the disruption of the Northern world were fashioned of ancient Beleriand.' In FN a rather different conception is suggested. Though Beleriand had been 'changed and broken', it is spoken of as 'that land', it was still called Beleriand, and it was peopled by Men and Elves, able to form an alliance against Thu. I would suggest (though hesitantly) that with the emergence, here first glimpsed, of a Second Age of Middle-earth consequent on the legend of Numenor, the utter devastation of Beleriand, suitable to the finality of the conclusion of the earlier conception, had been diminished." Moreover it seems that at this time my father did not conceive of any further destruction of Beleriand at the time of the Downfall of Numenor, as he would do later (see p. 32). At this stage there is no mention of a first and founder king of Numenor. Elrond was still the only child of Earendel and Elwing; his brother Elros has appeared only in late additions to the text of Q (IV. 155), which were inserted after the Numenorean legend had begun to develop. In the oldest conception in the Sketch of the Mythology (IV. 38) Elrond 'bound by his mortal half elects to stay on earth' (i.e. in the Great Lands), and in Q (IV. 158) he 'elected to remain, being bound by his mortal blood in love to those of the younger race', see my remarks on the Choice of the Half-elven, IV. 70. Elrond is here, as it seems, a leader of the Elves of Beleriand, in alliance with Amroth, predecessor of Elendil. The Last Alliance leading to the overthrow of Thu is seen as the last intervention of the Elves in the affairs of the World of Men, in itself hastening their inevitable fading. The 'dark forest' to which Thu fled (cf. the 'Iron-forest' in the original outline) is doubtless Mirkwood. In The Hobbit all that had been told of the Necromancer was that he dwelt in a dark tower in the south of Mirkwood.+ (iii) The second version of The Fall of Numenor FN II is a clear manuscript, made by my father with FN I before him and probably soon after it. It has many emendations made in the act of 'And they encompassed Avallon'; 'fire came upon the sides of Taniquetil' > 'fire came upon Kor and smokes rose about Taniquetil.' In FN II the paragraph opens: 'But the Gods made no answer. Then many of the Numenoreans set foot upon the forbidden shores, and they camped in might upon the borders of Valinor.' 'Angor the mighty and Istar his queen' > 'Tar-kalion the golden and bright Ilien his queen', 'the Forgotten Caves' ) 'the Caves of the Forgotten'. The mysterious concluding sentence concerning the Elves of Eressea (see the commentary on FN I) was retained but struck out later in pencil. $8. The concluding sentence does not appear; see the commentary on FN I. $9. 'Partly by the [desire >] command of Tar-kalion, and partly by their own will (because some still revered the Gods and would not go with war into the West) many had remained behind, and sat in their ships...' There is now no mention of the great wind that arose. $10. The paragraph now opens: 'There, though shorn of their former power, and few in number and scattered, they after became lords and kings of Men. Some were evil and forsook not Sauron in their hearts; and some were of good will and retained memory of the Gods. But all alike...' In 'the span of their lives, which had of old been greater than that of the lesser races' the words 'greater than' > 'thrice'. The concluding sentence reads: 'For which reason in after days they would bury their dead in ships, or set them in pomp...' 'And the spell that lay there was not wholly vain' > 'And this was not wholly fantasy', but this was struck out. 'For the ancient line of the world remained in the mind of Iluvatar and in the thought of the Gods, and in the memory of the world...' At the end of the paragraph is added: 'Therefore they built very high towers in those days.' $12. The paragraph now begins: 'But most, who could not see this or conceive it in thought, scorned the builders of towers, and trusted to ships that sailed upon water. But they came only to the lands of the New World, and found them like to those of the Old, and subject to death; and they reported that the world was round. But upon the Straight Road only the Gods could walk, and only the ships of the Elves of Avallon could journey. For the Road being straight, whereas the surface of the earth was bent...' The paragraph concludes: 'Therefore many abandoned the Gods, and put them out of their legends. But Men of Middle-earth looked up with wonder upon them, and with great fear, for they descended out of the air; and they took the Numenoreans to be Gods, and some were content that this should be so.' $13. The paragraph begins: 'But not all the hearts of the Numenoreans were crooked; and the knowledge of the days before the ruin, descending from their fathers and the Elf-friends, and those that had held converse with the Gods, was long preserved among the wise. And they said that the fate of Men...' 'But the fate of Men... is not complete within the world.' 'there were wars of faith among the mighty of Middle-earth' But there remains still a legend of Beleriand: for that land in the West of the North of the Old World, where Morgoth had been overthrown, was still in a measure blessed and free from his shadow; and many of the exiles of Numenor had come thither. Though changed and broken it retained still in ancient days the name that it had borne in the days of the Gnomes. And it is said that in Beleriand there arose a king, who was of Numenorean race, and he was named Elendil, that is Elf-friend. And he took counsel with the Elves that remained in Middle-earth (and these abode then mostly in Beleriand); and he made a league with Gil-galad the Elf-king who was descended from Feanor. And their armies were joined, and passed the mountains and came into inner lands far from the Sea. And they came at last even to Mordor the Black Country, where Sauron, that is in the Gnomish tongue named Thu, had rebuilt his fortresses. And they encompassed the strong- hold, until Thu came forth in person, and Elendil and Gil-galad wrestled with him; and both were slain. But Thu was thrown down, and his bodily shape destroyed, and his servants were dispelled, and the host of Beleriand destroyed his dwelling; but Thu's spirit fled far away, and was hidden in waste places, and took no shape again for many ages. But it is sung sadly by the Elves that the war with Thu hastened the fading of the Eldar, decreed by the Gods; for Thu had power beyond their measure, as Felagund, King of Nargothrond, had found aforetime; and the Elves expended their strength and substance in the assault upon him. And this was the last of the services of the Firstborn to Men, and it is held the last of the deeds of alliance before the fading of the Elves and the estrangement of the Two Kindreds. And here endeth the tale of the ancient world as it is known to the Elves. Commentary on the second version of The Fall of Numenor. On 'Orcs, that are mockeries of the creatures of Iluvatar' see QS $18 and commentary. - It was said in FN I $5 that Morgoth 'did not come in person, but only in spirit and as a shadow upon the mind and heart.' Now the idea of his 'return' in any sense seems to be denied; but there appears the concept of his malevolent and guiding Kill that remains always in the world. 'such as obeyed dwelt again in Eressea': in FN I 'the Elves were summoned to Valinor, as has been told, and many obeyed, but not all.' In the Quenta (IV. 162) 'the Gnomes and Dark-elves rehabited for the most part the Lonely Isle... But some returned even unto Valinor, as all were free to do who willed' (retained in QS, pp. 33 I-2 $27). The name Avallon ('for it is hard by Valinor') appears, but as a new name for Tol Eressea; afterwards, in the form Avallone ('for it is of all cities the nearest to Valinor'), it became the name of a haven in the isle: Akallabeth p. 260. At first my father preserved exactly the rewriting of FN I given in the commentary on FN I $2, whereby Atalante is the name of the city Andunie after the Downfall. I have suggested that he did not in fact intend this; at any rate he corrected it here, so that Atalante' again becomes the name of Numenor drowned. Numenos now reappears from FN I $2 as originally written, where it was the name of the western city, but becomes the name of the high place of the king in the centre of the land (afterwards Armenelos). Elrond (see the commentary on FN I $14) now becomes the first King of Numenor and the builder of Numenos; his brother Elros has still not emerged. The statement here that the Numenoreans 'took on the speech of the Elves of the Blessed Realm, as it was and is in Eressea' suggests that they abandoned their own Mannish tongue; and that this is the meaning is shown in The Lost Road (p. 68). In the Lhammas it is said (p. 179) that 'already even in [Hurin's father's] day Men in Beleriand forsook the daily use of their own tongue and spoke and gave even names unto their children in the language of the Gnomes.' The words 'as it was and is in Eressea' would contradict any idea that the Lonely Isle was destroyed in the Downfall (see the commentary on FN I $7). But the difficult passage which suggests it was preserved in the present text, $7 (though subsequently struck out). The association of the longevity of the Numenoreans with the radiance of Valinor (see the commentary on FN I $4) is abandoned, and is attributed solely to the gift of the Valar. In all probability the name Sauron (replacing Sur of FN I) first occurs here or in the closely related passage in The last Road (p. 66). Its first occurrence in the 'Silmarillion' tradition is in QS $143. The story of Sauron's coming to Numenor is changed from that in FN I, and it is explicit that he could not have come had he not been sum- moned. The story as told in the first version here, in which the ships returning from Middle-earth were cast upon Numenor far inland by a great wave, and Sauron stood upon a hill and 'preached a message of deliverance', is told in more detail in The Lost Road; but the second version in FN II, omitting the element of the great wave, looks as if it were substituted for the first almost immediately (on the significance of this see p. g). The temple to Morgoth is now raised upon the Mountain of Iluvatar in the midst of the land, and this (or in The Lost Road) is the first appearance of the Meneltarma. The story was later rejected: in the Akallabeth 'not even Sauron dared to defile the high place', and the temple was built in Armenelos (pp. 272 - 3). The addition in FN II, 'Therefore they built very high towers in those days', must be the first reference to the White Towers on Emyn Beraid, the Tower Hills. Cf. The Lord of the Rings Appendix A (I. iii), where it is told of the palantir of Emyn Beraid that 'Elendil set it there so that he could look back with "straight sight" and see Eressea in the vanished West; but the bent seas below covered Numenor for ever.' Cf. also Of the Rings of Power in The Silmarillion, p, 292. But when the present text was written the palantiri had not (so far as one can tell) been conceived. The rewriting of the passage concerning Beleriand reinforces the suggestion in FN I that it remained a country less destroyed after the Great Battle than is described in the other texts: it was 'still in a measure blessed' - and moreover the Elves who remained in Middle- earth 'abode mostly in Beleriand'. Here Elendil 'Elf-friend' appears, displacing Amroth of FN I. It might be thought from the words 'in Beleriand there arose a king, who was of Numenorean race' that he was not a survivor of the Downfall; but this is clearly not the case. In The Lost Road, closely connected with FN II, Elendil (the father in the Numenorean incarnation of 'Elwin-Edwin') is a resolute foe of Sauron and his dominance in Numenor; and though The Lost Road breaks off before the sailing of Tar-kalion's fleet, Elendil must have been among those who 'sat in their ships upon the east coast of the land' (FN $9) and so escaped the Downfall. Here is certainly the first appearance of Gil-galad, the Elf-king in Beleriand, descended from Feanor (it would be interesting to know his parentage), and the story of the Last Alliance moves a stage further; and there seems no question but that it was in this manuscript that the name Mordor, the Black Country, first emerged in narrative. (iv) The further development of The Fall of Numenor. FN II was followed by a typescript made on my father's typewriter of that period, but not typed by him. This is seen from its being an exact copy of FN II after all corrections had been made to it, and from two or three misreadings of the manuscript. I have no doubt that the typescript was made soon afterwards. In itself it has no textual value, but my father used it as the basis for certain further changes. Associated with it is a loose manuscript page bearing passages that relate closely to changes made to the typescript. There is here a textual development that has important bearings on the dating in general. Two passages are in question. The first concerns $8 (which had remained unchanged from FN I, apart from the omission in FN II of the concluding sentence). The loose page has here two forms of a new version of the paragraph, of which the first, which was struck through, reads as follows: Then Iluvatar cast back the Great Sea west of Middle-earth and the Barren Land east of Middle-earth and made new lands and new seas where aforetime nought had been but the paths of the Sun and Moon. And the world was diminished; for Valinor and Eressea were taken into the Realm of Hidden Things, and thereafter however far a man might sail he could never again reach the True West. For all lands old and new were equally distant from the centre of the earth. There was [flood and great confusion of waters, and seas covered what once was dry, and lands appeared where there had been deep seas,) and Beleriand fell into the sea in that time, all save the land where Beren and Luthien had dwelt for a while, the land of Lindon beneath the western feet of the [struck out: Ered] Lunoronti. (The section enclosed in square brackets is represented in the manu- script by a mark of omission, obviously meaning that the existing text was to be followed.) Here the words '[the Gods] bent back the edges of the Middle-earth' have disappeared; it is the Great Sea in the West and 'the Barren Land' in the East that are 'cast back' by Iluvatar. It is now said that the new lands and new seas came into being 'where aforetime nought had been but the paths of the Sun and Moon' (i.e. at the roots of the world, see the Ambarkanta diagrams IV. 243, 245). This was in turn lost in the further rewriting (below), where the final and very brief statement found in the Akallabeth (p. 279) is reached. This passage is very notable, since the drowning of all Beleriand west of Lindon is here ascribed to the cataclysm of the Downfall of Numenor; see the commentaries on FN I and II, $14. The name Lunoronti of the Blue Mountains has not occurred previously (but see the Etymologies, stem LUG^2); and this is perhaps the first occurrence of the name Lindon for the ancient Ossiriand, or such of it as remained above the sea (see the commentary on QS $108). The second form of this revised version of $8 follows immediately in the manuscript: Then Iluvatar cast back the Great Sea west of Middle-earth, and the Empty Land east of it, and new lands and new seas were made; and the world was diminished: for Valinor and Eressea were taken from it into the realm of hidden things. And thereafter however a man might sail, he could never again reach the True West, but would come back weary at last to the place of his beginning; for all lands and seas were equally distant from the centre of the earth, and all roads were bent. There was flood and great confusion of waters in that time, and sea covered much that in the Elder Days had been dry, both in the West and East of Middle-earth. Thus the passage concerning the drowning of Beleriand at the time of the Numenorean cataclysm and the survival of Lindon was again removed. In this form my father then copied it onto the typescript, with change of Empty Land to Empty Lands. (If this region, called in the first version the Barren Land, is to be related to the Ambarkanta map V (IV. 251) it must be what is there called the Burnt Land of the Sun; perhaps also the Dark Land, which is there shown as a new continent, formed from the southern part of Pelmar or Middle-earth (map IV) after the vast exten- sion of the former inland sea of Ringil at the time of the breaking of Utumno). - The expression Elder Days is not found in any writing of my father's before this. The second passage is the concluding paragraph in FN II $14, con- cerning Beleriand and the Last Alliance. Here a few pencilled changes were made to the typescript: Thu was changed to Sauron except in the sentence 'that is in the Gnomish tongue named Thu', where Thu > Corthu (see p. 338); 'in Beleriand there arose a king' > 'in Lindon...'; and Gil-galad is descended from Finrod, not Feanor. The passage in the typescript was then struck through, with a direction to introduce a substitute. This substitute is found on the reverse of the loose page giving the two forms of the rewriting of $8, and was obviously written at the same time as those. It reads as follows: But there remains a legend of Beleriand. Now that land had been broken in the Great Battle with Morgoth; and at the fall of Numenor and the change of the fashion of the world it perished; for the sea covered all that was left save some of the mountains that remained as islands, even up to the feet of Eredlindon. But that land where Luthien had dwelt remained, and was called Lindon. A gulf of the sea came through it, and a gap was made in the Mountains through which the River Lhun flowed out. But in the land that was left north and south of the gulf the Elves remained, and Gil-galad son of Felagund son of Finrod was their king. And they made Havens in the Gulf of Lhun whence any of their people, or any other of the Elves that fled from the darkness and sorrow of Middle-earth, could sail into the True West and return no more. In Lindon Sauron had as yet no dominion. And it is said that the brethren Elendil and Valandil escaping from the fall of Numenor came at last to the mouths of the rivers that flowed into the Western Sea. And Elendil (that is Elf-friend), who had aforetime loved the folk of Eressea, came to Lindon and dwelt there a while, and passed into Middle-earth and established a realm in the North. But Valandil sailed up the Great River Anduin and established another realm far to the South. But Sauron dwelt in Mordor the Black Country, and that was not very distant from Ondor the realm of Valandil; and Sauron made war against all Elves and all Men of Westernesse or others that aided them, and Valandil was hard pressed. Therefore Elendil and Gil-galad seeing that unless some stand were made Sauron would become lord of [?all] Middle-earth they took counsel together, and they made a great league. And Gil-galad and Elendil marched into the Middle-earth [?and gathered force of Men and Elves, and they assembled at Imladrist]. Towards the end the text degenerates into a scribble and the final words are a bit doubtful. If the name Imladrist is correctly interpreted there is certainly a further letter after the s, which must be a t .Cf. The Tale of Years in The Lord of the Rings (Appendix B): Second Age 3431 'Gil- galad and Elendil march east to Imladris.' All this passage was in turn struck through, and not copied into the typescript. It will be seen that it brings in the new matter concerning Beleriand and Lindon which appeared in the first form of the revision of $8 but was then removed (pp. 31 - 2); and in addition many important new elements have entered. Gil-galad is the son of Felagund; it is now explicit that Elendil was one of the survivors of Numenor, and he has a brother named Valandil (the name of his father in The Lost Road); the river Lhun appears, and its gulf, and the gap in the Blue Mountains through which it flowed; the Elves of Lindon built havens on the Gulf of Lhun; Elendil established a kingdom in the North, east of the mountains, and Valandil, sailing up the Anduin, founded his realm of Ondor not far from Mordor. Now there is no question that the entire conception of Gondor arose in the course of the composition of The Lord of the Rings. Moreover my father pencilled the following notes (also struck through) at the end of the typescript: More of this is told in The Lord of the Rings Only alteration required is this: (1) Many Elves remained behind (2) Beleriand was all sunk except for a few islands = mountains, and part of Ossiriand (called Lindon) where Gil-galad dwelt. (3) Elrond remained with Gil-galad. Or else sailed back to Middle-earth. The Half-elven. The second of these is decisive, since the passage last given clearly contains a working-up of this note; and it is clear that all the rewritings of the second version of The Fall of Numenor considered here come from several years later. FN II represents the form of the work at the time when The Lord of the Rings was begun. On the other hand, these revisions come from a time when it was a long way from completion, as is seen by the form Ondor, and by the brothers Elendil and Valandil, founders of the Numenorean kingdoms in Middle-earth. Apart from these major passages of revision there were few other changes made to the typescript copy of FN II, and those very minor, save for the substitution of Elros for Elrond at both occurrences in $2. This belongs to the pre-Lord of the Rings period, as is seen from the appear- ance of Elros in the conclusion of QS (see p. 337, commentary on $28).* ) 1890, two years earlier than my father. Audoin was born in September 1918. 'Honour Mods.' (i.e. 'Honour Moderations'), referred to at the begin- ning of Chapter II, are the first of the two examinations taken in the Classical languages at Oxford, after two years (see Humphrey Carpenter, Biography, p. 62); 'Schools', in the same passage, is a name for the final Oxford examinations in all subjects. Alboin's father's name Oswin is 'significant': os 'god' and nine 'friend' (see I V. 208, 212); Elendil's father was Valandil (p. 60). That Errol is to be associated in some way with Eriol (the Elves' name for AElfwine the mariner, IV. 206) must be allowed to be a possibility.* The Lombardic legend. The Lombards ('Long-beards': Latin Langobardi, Old English Long- beardan) were a Germanic people renowned for their ferocity. From their ancient homes in Scandinavia they moved southwards, but very little is known of their history before the middle of the sixth century. At that time their king was Audoin, the form of his name in the Historia Langobardorum by the learned Paul the Deacon, who died about 790. Audoin and Old English Eadwine (later Edwin) show an exact corres- pondence, are historically the same name (Old English ea derived from the original diphthong au). On the meaning of ead see p. 46, and cf. Eadwine as a name in Old English of the Noldor, IV. 212. Audoin's son was Alboin, again corresponding exactly to Old English AElfuine (Elwin). The story that Oswin Errol told his son (p. 37) is known from the work of Paul the Deacon. In the great battle between the Lombards and another Germanic people, the Gepids, Alboin son of Audoin slew Thurismod, son of the Gepid king Thurisind, in single combat; and when the Lombards returned home after their victory they (*It is worth mentioning that Oswin Errol's frequent address to Alboin as 'boy' is not intended to suggest an aloofly schoolmasterish tone. My father frequently used it to his sons as a term of friendship and affection). asked Audoin to give his son the rank of a companion of his table, since it was by his valour that they had won the day. But this Audoin would not do, for, he said, 'it is not the custom among us that the king's son should sit down with his father before he has first received weapons from the king of some other people.' When Alboin heard this he went with forty young men of the Lombards to king Thurisind to ask this honour from him. Thurisind welcomed him, invited him to the feast, and seated him at his right hand, where his dead son Thurismod used to sit. But as the feast went on Thurisind began to think of his son's death, and seeing Alboin his slayer in his very place his grief burst forth in words: 'Very pleasant to me is the seat,' he said, 'but hard is it to look upon him who sits in it.' Roused by these words the king's second son Cunimund began to revile the Lombard guests; insults were uttered on both sides, and swords were grasped. But on the very brink Thurisind leapt up from the table, thrust himself between the Gepids and the Lombards, and threatened to punish the first man who began the fight. Thus he allayed the quarrel; and taking the arms of his dead son he gave them to Alboin, and sent him back in safety to his father's kingdom. It is agreed that behind this Latin prose tale of Paul the Deacon, as also behind his story of Alboin's death, there lies a heroic lay: as early a vestige of such ancient Germanic poetry as we possess. Audoin died some ten years after the battle, and Alboin became king of the Lombards in 565. A second battle was fought against the Gepids, in which Alboin slew their king Cunimund and took his daughter Rosamunda captive. At Easter 568 Alboin set out for the conquest of Italy; and in 572 he was murdered. In the story told by Paul the Deacon, at a banquet in Verona Alboin gave his queen Rosamunda wine to drink in a cup made from the skull of king Cunimund, and invited her to drink merrily with her father ('and if this should seem to anyone impossible,' wrote Paul, 'I declare that I speak the truth in Christ: I have seen [Radgisl] the prince holding the very cup in his hand on a feastday and showing it to those who sat at the table with him.') Here Oswin Errol ended the story, and did not tell his son how Rosamunda exacted her revenge. The outcome of her machinations was that Alboin was murdered in his bed, and his body was buried 'at the going up of the stairs which are near to the palace,' amid great lamen- tation of the Lombards. His tomb was opened in the time of Paul the Deacon by Gislbert dux Veronensium, who took away Alboin's sword and other gear that was buried with him; 'wherefore he used to boast to the ignorant with his usual vanity that he has seen Alboin face to face.' The fame of this formidable king was such that, in the words of Paul, 'even down to our own day, among the Bavarians and the Saxons and other peoples of kindred speech, his open hand and renown, his success and courage in war, are celebrated in their songs.' An extraordinary testimony to this is found in the ancient English poem Widsith, where occur the following lines: Swylce ic waes on Eatule mid AElfwine: se haefde moncynnes mine gefraege leohteste hond lofes to wyrcenne, heortan unhneaweste hringa gedales, beorhta beaga, bearn Eadwines. (I was in Italy with Alboin: of all men of whom I have heard he had the hand most ready for deeds of praise, the heart least niggard in the giving of rings, of shining armlets, the son of Audoin.)* In my father's letter of 1964 (given on pp. 7 - 8) he wrote as if it had been his intention to find one of the earlier incarnations of the father and son in the Lombard story: 'It started with a father-son affinity between Edwin and Elwin of the present, and was supposed to go back into legendary time by way of an Eadwine and AElfwine of circa A.D. 918, and Audoin and Alboin of Lombardic legend...' But there is no suggestion that at the time this was any more than a passing thought; see further pp. 77 - 8. The two Englishmen named AElfwine (p. 38). King Alfred's youngest son was named AEthelweard, and it is recorded by the twelfth century historian William of Malmesbury that AEthelweard's sons AElfwine and AEthelwine both fell at the battle of Brunanburh in 937. Years later my father celebrated the AElfwine who died at Maldon in The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth, where Torhthelm and Tidwald find his corpse among the slain: 'And here's AElfwine: barely bearded, and his battle's over.' Oswin Errol's reference to a 'substratum ' (p. 40) . Put very simply, the substratum theory attributes great importance, as an explanation of linguistic change, to the influence exerted on language when a people abandons their own former speech and adopts another; for such a people will retain their habitual modes of articulation and transfer them to the new language, thus creating a substratum underlying it. Different substrata acting upon a widespread language in different areas is there- fore regarded as a fundamental cause of divergent phonetic change. The Old English verses of AElfwine Widlast (p.44). These verses, in identical form except for certain features of spelling, were used in the title-pages to the Quenta Silmarillion (p. 203); see also p. 103. (*The generous heart of Alboin, the hand ready for deeds of praise, made a different impression on the stricken population of Italy in the sixth century. From the walls of Rome Pope Gregory the Great watched men being led away by 'the unspeakable Lombards', tied together at the neck to be sold as slaves; and in one of his letters he welcomed the advent of bubonic plague, for 'when we consider the way in which other men have died we find a solace in reflecting on the form of death that threatens us. What mutilations, what cruelties we have seen inflicted upon men, for which death is the only cure, and in the midst of which life is a torture! ') Names and words in the Elvish languages. Throughout, the term Eressean was a replacement of Numenorean. Perhaps to be compared is FN II, $2: 'Yet they [the Numenoreans) took on the speech of the Elves of the Blessed Realm, as it was and is in Eressea.' The term 'Elf-latin', applied by Alboin to 'Eressean' (pp. 41, 43), is found in the Lhammas (p. 172). There it refers to the archaic speech of the First Kindred of the Elves (the Lindar), which 'became early fixed... as a language of high speech and of writing, and as a common speech among all Elves; and all the folk of Valinor learned and knew this language.' It was called Qenya, the Elvish tongue, tarquesta high-speech, and parmalambe the book- tongue. But it is not explained in The Lost Road why Alboin should have called the language that 'came through' to him by this term. Amon-ereb (p. 38): the rough draft of this passage had Amon Gwareth, changed more than once and ending with Amon Thoros. Amon Ereb (the Lonely Hill) is found in the Annals of Beleriand (p. 143, annal 340) and in QS $ 113. 'The shores of Beleriand' (p. 38): the draft has here 'the rocks of the Falasse'.' The form Falasse' occurs on the Ambarkanta map IV (IV. 249). 'Alda was a tree (a word I got a long time ago)' (p. 41). Alda 'tree' is found in the very early 'dictionary' (I. 249), where also occurs the word lome, which Alboin also refers to here, with the meanings 'dusk, gloom, darkness' (I. 255). Anar, Isil, and Anor, Ithil (p. 41): in QS $75 the names of the Sun and Moon given by the Gods are Urin and Isil, and by the Elves Anar and Rana (see the commentary on that passage). The Eressean fragment concerning the Downfall of Numenor and the Straight Road (p. 47) is slightly different in the draft text: Ar Sauron lende numenorenna... lantie nu huine... ohtakarie valannar... manwe ilu terhante. eari lantier kilyanna numenor atalante... malle tera lende numenna, ilya si maller raikar. Turkildi romenna... nuruhuine me lumna. And Sauron came to-Numenor... fell under Shadow... war-made on-Powers... ? ? broke. seas fell into-Chasm. Numenor down-fell. road straight went westward, all now roads bent. ? eastward. Death-shadow us is-heavy. The name Tar-kalion is here not present, but Sauron is (see p. 9), and is interpreted as being a name. Most notably, this version has manwe (which Alboin could not interpret) for herunumen 'Lord-of-West' of the later; on this see p. 75. On the name Herendil (=Audoin, Eadwine) see the Etymologies, stem KHER. (ii). The Numenorean chapters. My father said in his letter of 1964 on the subject that 'in my tale we were to come at last to Amandil and Elendil leaders of the loyal party in Numenor, when it fell under the domination of Sauron.' It is nonetheless plain that he did not reach this conception until after the extant narrative had been mostly written, or even brought to the point where it was abandoned. At the end of Chapter II the Numenorean story is obviously just about to begin, and the Numenorean chapters were originally numbered continuously with the opening ones. On the other hand the decision to postpone Numenor and make it the conclusion and climax to the book had already been taken when The Last Road went to Allen and Unwin in November 1937. Since the Numenorean episode was left unfinished, this is a con- venient point to mention an interesting note that my father presumably wrote while it was in progress. This says that when the first 'adventure' (i.e. Numenor) is over 'Alboin is still precisely in his chair and Audoin just shutting the door.' With the postponement of Numenor the chapter-numbers were changed, but this has no importance and I therefore number these 'III' and 'IV'; they have no titles. In this case I have found it most convenient to annotate the text by numbered notes. Chapter III. Elendil was walking in his garden, but not to look upon its beauty in the evening light. He was troubled and his mind was turned inward. His house with its white tower and golden roof glowed behind him in the sunset, but his eyes were on the path before his feet. He was going down to the shore, to bathe in the blue pools of the cove beyond his garden's end, as was his custom at this hour. And he looked also to find his son Herendil there. The time had come when he must speak to him. He came at length to the great hedge of lavaralda^1 that fenced the garden at its lower, western, end. It was a familiar sight, though the years could not dim its beauty. It was seven twelves of years' or more since he had planted it himself when planning his garden before his marriage; and he had blessed his good fortune. For the seeds had come from Eressea far westward, whence ships came seldom already in those days, and now they came no more. But the spirit of that blessed land and its fair people remained still in the trees that had grown from those seeds: their long green leaves were golden on the undersides, and as a breeze off the water stirred them they whispered with a sound of many soft voices, and glistened like sunbeams on rippling waves. The flowers were pale with a yellow flush, and laid thickly on the branches like a sunlit snow; and their odour filled all the lower garden, faint but clear. Mariners in the old days said that the scent of lavaralda could be felt on the air long ere the land of Eressea could be seen, and that it brought a desire of rest and great content. He had seen the trees in flower day after day, for they rested from flowering only at rare intervals. But now, suddenly, as he passed, the scent struck him with a keen fragrance, at once known and utterly strange. He seemed for a moment never to have smelled it before: it pierced the troubles of his mind, bewildering, bringing no familiar content, but a new disquiet. 'Eressea, Eressea!' he said. 'I wish I were there; and had not been fated to dwell in Numenor' half-way between the worlds. And least of all in these days of perplexity! ' He passed under an arch of shining leaves, and walked swiftly down rock-hewn steps to the white beach. Elendil looked about him, but he could not see his son. A picture rose in his mind of Herendil's white body, strong and beautiful upon the threshold of early manhood, cleaving the water, or lying on the sand glistening in the sun. But Herendil was not there, and the beach seemed oddly empty. Elendil stood and surveyed the cove and its rocky walls once more; and as he looked, his eyes rose by chance to his own house among trees and flowers upon the slopes above the shore, white and golden, shining in the sunset. And he stopped and gazed: for suddenly the house stood there, as a thing at once real and visionary, as a thing in some other time and story, beautiful, beloved, but strange, awaking desire as if it were part of a mystery that was still hidden. He could not interpret the feeling. He sighed. 'I suppose it is the threat of war that maketh me look upon fair things with such disquiet,' he thought. 'The shadow of fear is between us and the sun, and all things look as if they were already lost. Yet they are strangely beautiful thus seen. I do not know. I wonder. A Numenore! I hope the trees will blossom on your hills in years to come as they do now; and your towers will stand white in the Moon and yellow in the Sun. I wish it were not hope, but assurance - that assurance we used to have before the Shadow. But where is Herendil? I must see him and speak to him, more clearly than we have spoken yet. Ere it is too late. The time is getting short.' 'Herendil!' he called, and his voice echoed along the hollow shore above the soft sound of the light-falling waves. 'Herendil!' And even as he called, he seemed to hear his own voice, and to mark that it was strong and curiously melodious. 'Herendil!' he called again. At length there was an answering call: a young voice very clear came from some distance away - like a bell out of a deep cave. 'Man-ie, atto, man-ie?' For a brief moment it seemed to Elendil that the words were strange. 'Man-ie, atto? What is it, father?' Then the feeling passed. 'Where art thou?' 'Here! ' 'I cannot see thee.' 'I am upon the wall, looking down on thee.' Elendil looked up; and then swiftly climbed another flight of stone steps at the northern end of the cove. He came out upon a flat space smoothed and levelled on the top of the projecting spur of rock. Here there was room to lie in the sun, or sit upon a wide stone seat with its back against the cliff, down the face of which there fell a cascade of trailing stems rich with garlands of blue and silver flowers. Flat upon the stone with his chin in his hands lay a youth. He was looking out to sea, and did not turn his head as his father came up and sat down on the seat. 'Of what art thou dreaming, Herendil, that thy ears hear not?' 'I am thinking; I am not dreaming. I am a child no longer.' 'I know thou art not,' said Elendil; 'and for that reason I wished to find thee and speak with thee. Thou art so often out and away, and so seldom at home these days.' He looked down on the white body before him. It was dear to him, and beautiful. Herendil was naked, for he had been diving from the high point, being a daring diver and proud of his skill. It seemed suddenly to Elendil that the lad had grown over night, almost out of knowledge. 'How thou dost grow!' he said. 'Thou hast the makings of a mighty man, and have nearly finished the making.' 'Why dost thou mock me?' said the boy. 'Thou knowest I am dark, and smaller than most others of my year. And that is a trouble to me. I stand barely to the shoulder of Almariel, whose hair is of shining gold, and she is a maiden, and of my own age. We hold that we are of the blood of kings, but I tell thee thy friends' sons make a jest of me and call me Terendul(4) - slender and dark; and they say I have Eressean blood, or that I am half-Noldo. And that is not said with love in these days. It is but a step from being called half a Gnome to being called Godfearing; and that is dangerous.' Elendil sighed. 'Then it must have become perilous to be the son of him that is named elendil; for that leads to Valandil, God- friend, who was thy father's father.' There was a silence. At length Herendil spoke again: 'Of whom dost thou say that our king, Tarkalion, is descended?' 'From Earendel the mariner, son of Tuor the mighty who was lost in these seas.' 'Why then may not the king do as Earendel from whom he is come? They say that he should follow him, and complete his work.' 'What dost thou think that they mean? Whither should he go, and fulfil what work?' 'Thou knowest. Did not Earendel voyage to the uttermost West, and set foot in that land that is forbidden to us? He doth not die, or so songs say.' 'What callest thou Death? He did not return. He forsook all whom he loved, ere he stepped on that shore.' He saved his kindred by losing them.' 'Were the Gods wroth with him?' 'Who knoweth? For he came not back. But he did not dare that deed to serve Melko, but to defeat him; to free men from Melko, not from the Lords; to win us the earth, not the land of the Lords. And the Lords heard his prayer and arose against Melko. And the earth is ours.' 'They say now that the tale was altered by the Eresseans, who are slaves of the Lords: that in truth Earendel was an adventurer, and showed us the way, and that the Lords took him captive for that reason; and his work is perforce unfinished. Therefore the son of Earendel, our king, should complete it. They wish to do what has been long left undone.' 'What is that?' 'Thou knowest: to set foot in the far West, and not withdraw it. To conquer new realms for our race, and ease the pressure of this peopled island, where every road is trodden hard, and every tree and grass-blade counted. To be free, and masters of the world. To escape the shadow of sameness, and of ending. We would make our king Lord of the West: Nuaran Numenoren(9).Death comes here slow and seldom; yet it cometh. The land is only a cage gilded to look like Paradise.' 'Yea, so I have heard others say,' said Elendil. 'But what knowest thou of Paradise? Behold, our wandering words have come unguided to the point of my purpose. But I am grieved to find thy mood is of this sort, though I feared it might be so. Thou art my only son, and my dearest child, and I would have us at one in all our choices. But choose we must, thou as well as I - for at thy last birthday thou became subject to arms and the king's service. We must choose between Sauron and the Lords (or One Higher). Thou knowest, I suppose, that all hearts in Numenor are not drawn to Sauron? ' 'Yes. There are fools even in Numenor,' said Herendil, in a lowered voice. 'But why speak of such things in this open place? Do you wish to bring evil on me?' 'I bring no evil,' said Elendil. 'That is thrust upon us: the choice between evils: the first fruits of war. But look, Herendil! Our house is one of wisdom and guarded learning; and was long revered for it. I followed my father, as I was able. Dost thou follow me? What dost thou know of the history of the world or Numenor? Thou art but four twelves,(10) and wert but a small child when Sauron came. Thou dost not understand what days were like before then. Thou canst not choose in ignorance.' 'But others of greater age and knowledge than mine - or thine - have chosen,' said Herendil. 'And they say that history confirmeth them, and that Sauron hath thrown a new light on history. Sauron knoweth history, all history.' 'Sauron knoweth, verily; but he twisteth knowledge. Sauron is a liar! ' Growing anger caused Elendil to raise his voice as he spoke. The words rang out as a challenge. 'Thou art mad,' said his son, turning at last upon his side and facing Elendil, with dread and fear in his eyes. 'Do not say such things to me! They might, they might...' 'Who are they, and what might they do?' said Elendil, but a chill fear passed from his son's eyes to his own heart. 'Do not ask! And do not speak - so loud! ' Herendil turned away, and lay prone with his face buried in his hands. 'Thou knowest it is dangerous - to us all. Whatever he be, Sauron is mighty, and hath ears. I fear the dungeons. And I love thee, I love thee. Atarinya tye-melane.' Atarinya tye-melane, my father, I love thee: the words sounded strange, but sweet: they smote Elendil's heart. 'A yonya inye tye- mela: and I too, my son, I love thee,' he said, feeling each syllable strange but vivid as he spoke it. 'But let us go within! It is too late to bathe, The sun is all but gone. It is bright there westwards in the gardens of the Gods. But twilight and the dark are coming here, and the dark is no longer wholesome in this land. Let us go home. I must tell and ask thee much this evening - behind closed doors, where maybe thou wilt feel safer.' He looked towards the sea, which he loved, longing to bathe his body in it, as though to wash away weariness and care. But night was coming. The sun had dipped, and was fast sinking in the sea. There was fire upon far waves, but it faded almost as it was kindled. A chill wind came suddenly out of the West ruffling the yellow water off shore. Up over the fire-lit rim dark clouds reared; they stretched out great wings, south and north, and seemed to threaten the land. Elendil shivered. 'Behold, the eagles of the Lord of the West are coming with threat to Numenor,' he murmured. 'What dost thou say?' said Herendil. 'Is it not decreed that the king of Numenor shall be called Lord of the West? ' 'It is decreed by the king; but that does not make it so,' answered Elendil. 'But I meant not to speak aloud my heart's foreboding. Let us go! ' The light was fading swiftly as they passed up the paths of the garden amid flowers pale and luminous in the twilight. The trees were shedding sweet night-scents. A lomelinde began its thrilling bird-song by a pool. Above them rose the house. Its white walls gleamed as if moonlight was imprisoned in their substance; but there was no moon yet, only a cool light, diffused and shadowless. Through the clear sky like fragile glass small stars stabbed their white flames. A voice from a high window came falling down like silver into the pool of twilight where they walked. Elendil knew the voice: it was the voice of Firiel, a maiden of his household, daughter of Orontor. His heart sank, for Firiel was dwelling in his house because Orontor had departed. Men said he was on a long voyage. Others said that he had fled the displeasure of the king. Elendil knew that he was on a mission from which he might never return, or return too late." And he loved Orontor, and Firiel was fair. Now her voice sang an even-song in the Eressean tongue, but made by men, long ago. The nightingale ceased. Elendil stood still to listen; and the words came to him, far off and strange, as some melody in archaic speech sung sadly in a forgotten twilight in the beginning of man's journey in the world. Illu Iluvatar en kare eldain a firimoin ar antarota mannar Valion: numessier..... The Father made the World for elves and mortals, and he gave it into the hands of the Lords, who are in the West. So sang Firiel on high, until her voice fell sadly to the question with which that song ends: man tare antava nin Iluvatar, Iluvatar, enyare tar i tyel ire Anarinya qeluva? What will Iluvatar, 0 Iluvatar, give me in that day beyond the end, when my Sun faileth? '(12) 'E man antavaro? What will he give indeed?' said Elendil; and stood in sombre thought. 'She should not sing that song out of a window,' said Herendil, breaking the silence. 'They sing it otherwise now. Melko cometh back, they say, and the king shall give us the Sun forever.' 'I know what they say,' said Elendil. 'Do not say it to thy father, nor in his house.' He passed in at a dark door, and Herendil, shrugging his shoulders, followed him. Chapter IV. Herendil lay on the floor, stretched at his father's feet upon a carpet woven in a design of golden birds and twining plants with blue flowers. His head was propped upon his hands. His father sat upon his carved chair, his hands laid motionless upon either arm of it, his eyes looking into the fire that burned bright upon the hearth. It was not cold, but the fire that was named 'the heart of the house' (hon-maren)(13) burned ever in that room. It was more- over a protection against the night, which already men had begun to fear. But cool air came in through the window, sweet and flower- scented. Through it could be seen, beyond the dark spires of still trees, the western ocean, silver under the Moon, that was now swiftly following the Sun to the gardens of the Gods. In the night- silence Elendil's words fell softly. As he spoke he listened, as if to another that told a tale long forgotten." 'There" is Iluvatar, the One; and there are the Powers, of whom the eldest in the thought of Iluvatar was Alkar the Radiant;" and there are the Firstborn of Earth, the Eldar, who perish not while the World lasts; and there are also the Afterborn, mortal Men, who are the children of Iluvatar, and yet under the rule of the Lords. Iluvatar designed the World, and revealed his design to the Powers; and of these some he set to be Valar, Lords of the World and governors of the things that are therein. But Alkar, who had journeyed alone in the Void before the World, seeking to be free, desired the World to be a kingdom unto himself. There- fore he descended into it like a falling fire; and he made war upon the Lords, his brethren. But they established their mansions in the West, in Valinor, and shut him out; and they gave battle to him in the North, and they bound him, and the World had peace and grew exceeding fair. 'After a great age it came to pass that Alkar sued for pardon; and he made submission unto Manwe, lord of the Powers, and was set free. But he plotted against his brethren, and he deceived the Firstborn that dwelt in Valinor, so that many rebelled and were exiled from the Blessed Realm. And Alkar destroyed the lights of Valinor and fled into the night; and he became a spirit dark and terrible, and was called Morgoth, and he established his dominion in Middle-earth. But the Valar made the Moon for the Firstborn and the Sun for Men to confound the Darkness of the Enemy. And in that time at the rising of the Sun the Afterborn, who are Men, came forth in the East of the world; but they fell under the shadow of the Enemy. In those days the exiles of the Firstborn made war upon Morgoth; and three houses of the Fathers of Men were joined unto the Firstborn: the house of Beor, and the house of Haleth, and the house of Hador. For these houses were not subject to Morgoth. But Morgoth had the victory, and brought all to ruin. 'Earendel was son of Tuor, son of Huor, son of Gumlin, son of Hador; and his mother was of the Firstborn, daughter of Turgon, last king of the Exiles. He set forth upon the Great Sea, and he came at last unto the realm of the Lords, and the mountains of the West. And he renounced there all whom he loved, his wife and his child, and all his kindred, whether of the Firstborn or of Men; and he stripped himself." And he surrendered himself unto Manwe, Lord of the West; and he made submission and supplication to him. And he was taken and came never again among Men. But the Lords had pity, and they sent forth their power, and war was renewed in the North, and the earth was broken; but Morgoth was overthrown. And the Lords put him forth into the Void without. 'And they recalled the Exiles of the Firstborn and pardoned them; and such as returned dwell since in bliss in Eressea, the Lonely Isle, which is Avallon, for it is within sight of Valinor and the light of the Blessed Realm. And for the men of the Three Houses they made Vinya, the New Land, west of Middle-earth in the midst of the Great Sea, and named it Andor, the Land of Gift; and they endowed the land and all that lived thereon with good beyond other lands of mortals. But in Middle-earth dwelt lesser men, who knew not the Lords nor the Firstborn save by rumour; and among them were some who had served Morgoth of old, and were accursed. And there were evil things also upon earth, made by Morgoth in the days of his dominion, demons and dragons and mockeries of the creatures of Iluvatar.(18) And there too lay hid many of his servants, spirits of evil, whom his will governed still though his presence was not among them. And of these Sauron was the chief, and his power grew. Wherefore the lot of men in Middle-earth was evil, for the Firstborn that remained among them faded or departed into the West, and their kindred, the men of Numenor, were afar and came only to their coasts in ships that crossed the Great Sea. But Sauron learned of the ships of Andor, and he feared them, lest free men should become lords of Middle- earth and deliver their kindred; and moved by the will of Morgoth he plotted to destroy Andor, and ruin (if he might) Avallon and Valinor.(19) 'But why should we be deceived, and become the tools of his will? It was not he, but Manwe the fair, Lord of the West, that endowed us with our riches. Our wisdom cometh from the Lords, and from the Firstborn that see them face to face; and we have grown to be higher and greater than others of our race - those who served Morgoth of old. We have knowledge, power, and life stronger than they. We are not yet fallen. Wherefore the dominion of the world is ours, or shall be, from Eressea to the East. More can no mortals have.' 'Save to escape from Death,' said Herendil, lifting his face to his father's. 'And from sameness. They say that Valinor, where the Lords dwell, has no further bounds.' 'They say not truly. For all things in the world have an end, since the world itself is bounded, that it may not be Void. But Death is not decreed by the Lords: it is the gift of the One, and a gift which in the wearing of time even the Lords of the West shall envy.(20) So the wise of old have said. And though we can perhaps no longer understand that word, at least we have wisdom enough to know that we cannot escape, unless to a worse fate.' 'But the decree that we of Numenor shall not set foot upon the shores of the Immortal, or walk in their land - that is only a decree of Manwe and his brethren. Why should we not? The air there giveth enduring life, they say.' 'Maybe it doth,' said Elendil; 'and maybe it is but the air which those need who already have enduring life. To us perhaps it is death, or madness.' 'But why should we not essay it? The Eresseans go thither, and yet our mariners in the old days used to sojourn in Eressea without hurt.' 'The Eresseans are not as we. They have not the gift of death. But what doth it profit to debate the governance of the world? All certainty is lost. Is it not sung that the earth was made for us, but we cannot unmake it, and if we like it not we may remember that we shall leave it. Do not the Firstborn call us the Guests? See what this spirit of unquiet has already wrought. Here when I was young there was no evil of mind. Death came late and without other pain than weariness. From Eresseans we obtained so many things of beauty that our land became well nigh as fair as theirs; and maybe fairer to mortal hearts. It is said that of old the Lords themselves would walk at times in the gardens that we named for them. There we set their images, fashioned by Eresseans who had beheld them, as the pictures of friends beloved. 'There were no temples in this land. But on the Mountain we spoke to the One, who hath no image. It was a holy place, un- touched by mortal art. Then Sauron came. We had long heard rumour of him from seamen returned from the East. The tales differed: some said he was a king greater than the king of Numenor; some said that he was one of the Powers, or their offspring set to govern Middle-earth. A few reported that he was an evil spirit, perchance Morgoth returned; but at these we laughed. (21) 'It seems that rumour came also to him of us. It is not many years - three twelves and eight (22) - but it seems many, since he came hither. Thou wert a small child, and knew not then what was happening in the east of this land, far from our western house. Tarkalion the king was moved by rumours of Sauron, and sent forth a mission to discover what truth was in the mariners' tales. Many counsellors dissuaded him. My father told me, and he was one of them, that those who were wisest and had most knowledge of the West had messages from the Lords warning them to beware. For the Lords said that Sauron would work evil; but he could not come hither unless he were summoned.(23) Tarkalion was grown proud, and brooked no power in Middle-earth greater than his own. Therefore the ships were sent, and Sauron was summoned to do homage. 'Guards were set at the haven of Morionde in the east of the land,(24) where the rocks are dark, watching at the king's command without ceasing for the ships' return. It was night, but there was a bright Moon. They descried ships far off, and they seemed to be sailing west at a speed greater than the storm, though there was little wind. Suddenly the sea became unquiet; it rose until it became like a mountain, and it rolled upon the land. The ships were lifted up, and cast far inland, and lay in the fields. Upon that ship which was cast highest and stood dry upon a hill there was a man, or one in man's shape, but greater than any even of the race of Numenor in stature. 'He stood upon the rock (25) and said: "This is done as a sign of power. For I am Sauron the mighty, servant of the Strong" (wherein he spoke darkly). "I have come. Be glad, men of Numenor, for I will take thy king to be my king, and the world shall be given into his hand." 'And it seemed to men that Sauron was great; though they feared the light of his eyes. To many he appeared fair, to others terrible; but to some evil. But they led him to the king, and he was humble before Tarkalion. 'And behold what hath happened since, step by step, At first he revealed only secrets of craft, and taught the making of many things powerful and wonderful; and they seemed good. Our ships go now without the wind, and many are made of metal that sheareth hidden rocks, and they sink not in calm or storm; but they are no longer fair to look upon. Our towers grow ever stronger and climb ever higher, but beauty they leave behind upon earth. We who have no foes are embattled with impregnable fortresses - and mostly on the West. Our arms are multiplied as if for an agelong war, and men are ceasing to give love or care to the making of other things for use or delight. But our shields are impenetrable, our swords cannot be withstood, our darts are like thunder and pass over leagues unerring. Where are our enemies? We have begun to slay one another. For Numenor now seems narrow, that was so large. Men covet, therefore, the lands that other families have long possessed. They fret as men in chains. 'Wherefore Sauron hath preached deliverance; he has bidden our king to stretch forth his hand to Empire. Yesterday it was over the East. To-morrow - it will be over the West. 'We had no temples. But now the Mountain is despoiled. Its trees are felled, and it stands naked; and upon its summit there is a Temple. It is of marble, and of gold, and of glass and steel, and is wonderful, but terrible. No man prayeth there. It waiteth. For long Sauron did not name his master by the name that from old is accursed here. He spoke at first of the Strong One, of the Eldest Power, of the Master. But now he speaketh openly of Alkar,(26) of Morgoth. He hath prophesied his return. The Temple is to be his house. Numenor is to be the seat of the world's dominion. Meanwhile Sauron dwelleth there. He surveys our land from the Mountain, and is risen above the king, even proud Tarkalion, of the line chosen by the Lords, the seed of Earendel. 'Yet Morgoth cometh not. But his shadow hath come; it lieth upon the hearts and minds of men. It is between them and the Sun, and all that is beneath it.' 'Is there a shadow? ' said Herendil. 'I have not seen it. But I have heard others speak of it; and they say it is the shadow of Death. But Sauron did not bring that; he promiseth that he will save us from it.' 'There is a shadow, but it is the shadow of the fear of Death, and the shadow of greed. But there is also a shadow of darker evil. We no longer see our king. His displeasure falleth on men, and they go out; they are in the evening, and in the morning they are not. The open is insecure; walls are dangerous. Even by the heart of the house spies may sit. And there are prisons, and chambers under- ground. There are torments; and there are evil rites. The woods at night, that once were fair - men would roam and sleep there for delight, when thou wert a babe - are filled now with horror. Even our gardens are not wholly clean, after the sun has fallen. And now even by day smoke riseth from the temple: flowers and grass are withered where it falleth. The old songs are forgotten or altered; twisted into other meanings.' 'Yea: that one learneth day by day,' said Herendil. 'But some of the new songs are strong and heartening. Yet now I hear that some counsel us to abandon the old tongue. They say we should leave Eressean, and revive the ancestral speech of Men. Sauron teacheth it. In this at least I think he doth not well.' 'Sauron deceiveth us doubly. For men learned speech of the Firstborn, and therefore if we should verily go back to the beginnings we should find not the broken dialects of the wild men, nor the simple speech of our fathers, but a tongue of the Firstborn. But the Eressean is of all the tongues of the Firstborn the fairest, and they use it in converse with the Lords, and it linketh their varied kindreds one to another, and them to us. If we forsake it, we should be sundered from them, and be impoverished." Doubtless that is what he intendeth. But there is no end to his malice. Listen now, Herendil, and mark well. The time is nigh when all this evil shall bear bitter fruit, if it be not cut down. Shall we wait until the fruit be ripe, or hew the tree and cast it into the fire?' Herendil got suddenly to his feet, and went to the window. 'It is cold, father,' he said; 'and the Moon is gone. I trust the garden is empty. The trees grow too near the house.' He drew a heavy embroidered cloth across the window, and then returned, crouch- ing by the fire, as if smitten by a sudden chill. Elendil leant forward in his chair, and continued in a lowered voice. 'The king and queen grow old, though all know it not, for they are seldom seen. They ask where is the undying life that Sauron promised them if they would build the Temple for Morgoth. The Temple is built, but they are grown old. But Sauron foresaw this, and I hear (already the whisper is gone forth) that he declareth that Morgoth's bounty is restrained by the Lords, and cannot be fulfilled while they bar the way. To win life Tarkalion must win the West. (28) We see now the purpose of the towers and weapons. War is already being talked of - though they do not name the enemy. But I tell thee: it is known to many that the war will go west to Eressea: and beyond. Dost thou perceive the extremity of our peril, and the madness of the king? Yet this doom draws swiftly near. Our ships are recalled from the [?corners] of the earth. Hast thou not marked and wondered that so many are absent, especially of the younger folk, and in the South and West of our land both works and pastimes languish? In a secret haven to the North there is a building and forging that hath been reported to me by trusty messengers.' 'Reported to thee? What dost thou mean, father?' asked Herendil as if in fear. 'Even what I say. Why dost thou look on me so strangely? Didst thou think the son of Valandil, chief of the wise men of Numenor, would be deceived by the lies of a servant of Morgoth? I would not break faith with the king, nor do I purpose anything to his hurt. The house of Earendel hath my allegiance while I live. But if I must choose between Sauron and Manwe, then all else must come after. I will not bow unto Sauron, nor to his master.' 'But thou speakest as if thou wert a 1eader in this matter - woe i s me, for I love thee; and though thou swearest allegiance, it will not save thee from the peril of treason. Even to dispraise Sauron is held rebellious.' 'I am a leader, my son. And I have counted the peril both for myself and for thee and all whom I love. I do what is right and my right to do, but I cannot conceal it longer from thee. Thou must choose between thy father and Sauron. But I give thee freedom of choice and lay on thee no obedience as to a father, if I have not convinced thy mind and heart. Thou shalt be free to stay or go, yea even to report as may seem good to thee all that I have said. But if thou stayest and learnest more, which will involve closer counsels and other [? names] than mine, then thou wilt be bound in honour to hold thy peace, come what may. Wilt thou stay?' 'Atarinya tye-melane,' said Herendil suddenly, and clasping his father's knees he laid his [?head there] and wept. 'It is an evil hour that [?putteth] such a choice on thee,' said his father, laying a hand on his head. 'But fate calleth some to be men betimes. What dost thou say? ' 'I stay, father.' The narrative ends here. There is no reason to think that any more was ever written. The manuscript, which becomes increasingly rapid towards the end, peters out in a scrawl. Notes on the Numenorean chapters of The Lost Road. 1. Lavaralda (replacing lavarin) is not mentioned in A Description of Numenor (Unfinished Tales p. 167) among the trees brought by the Eldar from Tol-eressea. 2. seven twelves of years is an emendation of four score of years (first written three score of years); see note 10. 3. Vinya is written above Numenor in the manuscript; it occurs again in a part of the text that was rewritten (p. 64), rendered 'the New Land'. The name first appeared in an emendation to FN I (p. 19, $2) 4. For Terendul see the Etymologies, stem TER, TERES. 5. As the text was originally written there followed here: Poldor called me Earendel yesterday.' Elendil sighed. 'But that is a fair name. I love the story above others; indeed I chose thy name because it recalleth his. But I did not presume to give his name even to thee, nor to liken myself to Tuor the mighty, who first of Men sailed these seas. At least thou canst answer thy foolish friends that Earendel was the chief of mariners, and surely that is still held worthy of honour in Numenor? ' 'But they care not for Earendel. And neither do I. We wish to do what he left undone.' 'What dost thou mean?' 'Thou knowest; to set foot in the far West...' (&c. as on p. 60). 6. This is the earliest appearance of a Numenorean named Valandil. In later rewriting of FN II Valandil is Elendil's brother, and they are the founders of the Numenorean kingdoms in Middle-earth (pp. 33 - 4). The name was afterwards given to both an earlier Numenorean (the first Lord of Andunie) and a later (the youngest son of Isildur and third King of Arnor): Index to Unfinished Tales, entries Valandil and references. 7. In the Quenta (IV. 151) it is not told that Tuor was 'lost'. When he felt old age creeping on him 'he built a great ship Earame, Eagle's Pinion, and with Idril he set sail into the sunset and the West, and came no more into any tale or song.' Later the following was added (I V. x 55): 'But Tuor alone of mortal Men was numbered among the elder race, and joined with the Noldoli whom he loved, and in after time dwelt still, or so it hath been said, ever upon his ship voyaging the seas of the Elven-lands, or resting a while in the harbours of the Gnomes of Tol Eressea; and his fate is sundered from the fate of Men.' 8. This is the final form in the Quenta of the story of Earendel's landing in Valinor, where in emendations made to the second text Q II (I V. 156) Earendel 'bade farewell to all whom he loved upon the last shore, and was taken from them for ever,' and 'Elwing mourned for Earendel yet found him never again, and they are sundered till the world endeth.' Later Elendil returns more fully to the subject (p. 64). In QS the story is further changed, in that Elwing entered Valinor (see pp. 324 - 5 $$1-2, and commentary). 9. Nuaran Numenoren: the letters or were scratched out in the type- script (only). 10. Thou art but four twelves replaced Thou art scarce two score and ten. As in the change recorded in note z, a duodecimal counting replaces a decimal; but the number of years is in either case very strange. For Herendil has been called a 'boy', a 'lad', and a 'youth', and he is 'upon the threshold of early manhood' (p. 58); how then can he be forty-eight years old? But his age is unequivocally stated, and moreover Elendil says later (p. 66) that it is 44 years since Sauron came and that Herendil was then a small child; it can only be concluded therefore that at this time the longevity of the Numenoreans implied that they grew and aged at a different rate from other men, and were not fully adult until about fifty years old. Cf. Unfinished Tales pp. 224 - 5. 11. Orontor's mission, from which he might never return, seems like a premonition of the voyage of Amandil into the West, from which he never returned (Akallabeth pp. 275 - 6). 12. The manuscript (followed by the typescript) is here confused, since in addition to the text as printed the whole song that Firiel sang is given as well, with translation; thus the two opening and the two closing lines and their translations are repeated. It is clear however from pencilled markings on the manuscript that my father moved at once to a second version (omitting the greater part of the song) without striking out the first. The text of the song was emended in three stages. Changes made probably very near the time of writing were Valion numenyaron (translated 'of the Lords of the West') > Valion: numessier in line 2, and hondo-ninya > indo-ninya in line 9; Vinya was written above Numenor as an alternative in line 8 (cf. note 3). Before the later emendations the text ran thus: Ilu Iluvatar en kare eldain a firimoin ar antarota mannar Valion: numessier. Toi aina, mana, meldielto - enga morion: talantie. Mardello Melko lende: marie. Eldain en karier Isil, nan hildin Ur-anar. Toi irimar. Ilqainen antar annar lestanen Iluvatiren. Ilu vanya, fanya, eari, i-mar, ar ilqa imen. Irima ye Numenor. Nan uye sere indo-ninya simen, ullume; ten si ye tyelma, yeva tyel ar i-narqelion, ire ilqa yeva notina, hostainieva, yallume: ananta uva tare farea, ufarea! Man tare antava nin Iluvatar, Iluvatar enyare tar i tyel, ire Anarinya qeluva? The Father made the World for Elves and Mortals, and he gave it into the hands of the Lords. They are in the West. They are holy, blessed, and beloved: save the dark one. He is fallen. Melko has gone from Earth: it is good. For Elves they made the Moon, but for Men the red Sun; which are beautiful. To all they gave in measure the gifts of Iluvatar. The World is fair, the sky, the seas, the earth, and all that is in them. Lovely is Numenor. But my heart resteth not here for ever; for here is ending, and there will be an end and the Fading, when all is counted, and all numbered at last, but yet it will not be enough, not enough. What will the Father, 0 Father, give me in that day beyond the end when my Sun faileth? Subsequently Mardello Melko in line 4 was changed to Melko Mardello, and lines 5-6 became En karielto eldain Isil, hildin Ur-anar. Toi irimar. Ilyain antalto annar lestanen Then, after the typescript was made, Melko was changed to Alkar in text and translation; see note 15. The thought of lines 5 - 6 of the song reappears in Elendil's words to Herendil later (p. 64): 'But the Valar made the Moon for the Firstborn and the Sun for Men to confound the Darkness of the Enemy.' Cf. QS $75 (The Silmarillion p. 99): 'For the Sun was set as a sign for the awakening of Men and the waning of the Elves; but the Moon cherishes their memory.' 13. For hon-maren 'heart of the house' see the Etymologies, stem KHO-N. 14. Here the typescript made at Allen and Unwin (p. 8, footnote) ends. The publishers' reader (see p. 97) said that 'only the preliminary two chapters... and one of the last chapters... are written.' It might be supposed that the typescript ended where it does because no more had been written at that time, but I do not think that this was the reason. At the point where the typescript breaks off (in the middle of a manuscript page) there is no suggestion at all of any interruption in the writing, and it seems far more likely that the typist simply gave up, for the manuscript here becomes confused and difficult through rewriting and substitutions. In the previous parts of The Lost Road I have taken up all corrections to the manuscript, however quickly and lightly made, since they all appear in the typescript. From this point there is no external evidence to show when the pencilled emendations were made; but I continue to take these up into the text as before. 15. Elendil's long tale to Herendil of the ancient history, from 'There is Iluvatar, the One' to 'and ruin (if he might) Avallon and Valinor' on p. 65, is a replacement of the original much briefer passage. This replacement must be later than the submission of The Lost Road to Allen and Unwin, for Morgoth is here called Alkar as the text was first written, not Melko, whereas in the song sung by Firiel in the previous chapter Melko was only changed in pencil to Alkar, and this was not taken up into the typescript. The original passage read thus: He spoke of the rebellion of Melko [later > Alkar and sub- sequently], mightiest of the Powers, that began at the making of the World; and of his rejection by the Lords of the West after he had wrought evil in the Blessed Realm and caused the exile of the Eldar, the firstborn of the earth, who dwelt now in Eressea. He told of Melko's tyranny in Middle-earth, and how he had enslaved Men; of the wars which the Eldar waged with him, and were defeated, and of the Fathers of Men that had aided them; how Earendel brought their prayer to the Lords, and Melko was overthrown and thrust forth beyond the confines of the World. Elendil paused and looked down on Herendil. He did not move or make a sign. Therefore Elendil went on. 'Dost thou not perceive then, Herendil, that Morgoth is a begetter of evil, and brought sorrow upon our fathers? We owe him no allegiance except by fear. For his share of the governance of the World was forfeit long ago. Nor need we hope in him: the fathers of our race were his enemies; wherefore we can look for no love from him or any of his servants. Morgoth doth not forgive. But he cannot return into the World in present power and form while the Lords are enthroned. He is in the Void, though his Will remaineth and guideth his servants. And his will is to overthrow the Lords, and return, and wield dominion, and have vengeance on those who obey the Lords. 'But why should we be deceived...' (&c. as on p. 65). The closing sentences ('But he cannot return into the World...') closely echo, or perhaps rather are closely echoed by (see note 25) a passage in FN II ($1). 16. In QS $ 10 it is said that Melko was 'coeval with Manwe'. The name Alkar 'the Radiant' of Melko occurs, I believe, nowhere outside this text. 17. See note 8. The reference to Earendel's child shows that Elros had not yet emerged, as he had not in FN II (p. 34). 18. 'mockeries of the creatures of Iluvatar': cf. FN II $1 and com- mentary. 19. Here the long replacement passage ends (see note 15), though as written it continued in much the same words as did the earlier form ('For Morgoth cannot return into the World while the Lords are enthroned...'); this passage was afterwards struck out. 20. The words 'a gift which in the wearing of time even the Lords of the West shall envy' were a pencilled addition to the text, and are the first appearance of this idea: a closely similar phrase is found in a text of the Ainulindale written years later (cf. The Silmarillion p. 42: 'Death is their fate, the gift of Iluvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.') 21. Cf. FN I I $5: Some said that he was a king greater than the King of Numenor; some said that he was one of the Gods or their sons set to govern Middle-earth. A few reported that he was an evil spirit, perchance Morgoth himself returned. But this was held to be only a foolish fable of the wild Men.' 22. This duodecimal computation is found in the text as written; see note 10. 23. Cf. FN II $5: for [the Lords] said that Sauron would work evil if he came; but he could not come to Numenor unless he was summoned and guided by the king's messengers.' 24. The name Morionde occurs, I think, nowhere else. This eastern haven is no doubt the forerunner of Romenna. 25. This is the story of the coming of Sauron to Numenor found in FN II $5, which was replaced soon after by a version in which the lifting up of the ships by a great wave and the casting of them far inland was re- moved; see pp. 9, 26 - 7. In the first FN II version the sea rose like a mountain, the ship that carried Sauron was set upon a hill, and Sauron stood upon the hill to preach his message to the Numenoreans. In The Lost Road the sea rose like a hill, changed in pencil to mountain, Sauron's ship was cast upon a high rock, changed in pencil to hill, and Sauron spoke standing on the rock (left unchanged). This is the best evidence I can see that of these two companion works (see notes 15, 21, 23) The Lost Road was written first. 26. Alkar: pencilled alteration of Melko: see note 15. 27. On Eressean ('Elf-latin', Qenya), the common speech of all Elves, see p. 56. The present passage is the first appearance of the idea of a linguistic component in the attack by the Numenorean 'govern- ment' on Eressean culture and influence; cf. The Line of Elros in Unfinished Tales (p. 222), of Ar-Adunakhor, the twentieth ruler of Numenor: 'He was the first King to take the sceptre with a title in the Adunaic tongue... In this reign the Elven-tongues were no longer used, nor permitted to be taught, but were maintained in secret by the Faithful'; and of Ar-Gimilzor, the twenty-third ruler: 'he forbade utterly the use of the Eldarin tongues' (very similarly in the Akallabeth, pp. 267 - 8). But of course at the time of The Lost Road the idea of Adunaic as one of the languages of Numenor had not emerged, and the proposal is only that 'the ancestral speech of Men' should be 'revived'. 28. This goes back to FN I $6: 'Sur said that the gifts of Morgoth were withheld by the Gods, and that to obtain plenitude of power and undying life he [the king Angor] must be master of the West.' There are several pages of notes that give some idea of my father's thoughts - at a certain stage - for the continuation of the story beyond the point where he abandoned it. These are in places quite illegible, and in any case were the concomitant of rapidly changing ideas: they are the vestiges of thoughts, not statements of formulated conceptions. More important, some at least of these notes clearly preceded the actual narrative that was written and were taken up into it, or replaced by something different, and it may very well be that this is true of them all, even those that refer to the latter part of the story which was never written. But they make it very clear that my father was concerned above all with the relation between the father and the son, which was cardinal. In Numenor he had engendered a situation in which there was the potentiality of anguishing conflict between them, totally incommen- surate with the quiet harmony in which the Errols began - or ended. The relationship of Elendil and Herendil was subjected to a profound menace. This conflict could have many narrative issues within the framework of the known event, the attack on Valinor and the Downfall of Numenor, and in these notes my father was merely sketching out some solutions, none of which did he develop or return to again. An apparently minor question was the words 'the Eagles of the Lord of the West': what did they mean, and how were they placed within the story? It seems that he was as puzzled by them as was Alboin Errol when he used them (pp. 38, 47). He queries whether 'Lord of the West' means the King of Numenor, or Manwe, or whether it is the title properly of Manwe but taken in his despite by the King; and concludes 'probably the latter'. There follows a 'scenario' in which Sorontur King of Eagles is sent by Manwe, and Sorontur flying against the sun casts a great shadow on the ground. It was then that Elendil spoke the phrase, but he was overheard, informed upon, and taken before Tarkalion, who declared that the title was his. In the story as actually written Elendil speaks the words to Herendil (p. 62), when he sees clouds rising out of the West in the evening sky and stretching out 'great wings' - the same spectacle as made Alboin Errol utter them, and the men of Numenor in the Akallabeth (p. 277); and Herendil replies that the title has been decreed to belong to the King. The outcome of Elendil's arrest is not made clear in the notes, but it is said that Herendil was given command of one of the ships, that Elendil himself joined in the great expedition because he followed Herendil, that when they reached Valinor Tarkalion set Elendil as a hostage in his son's ship, and that when they landed on the shores Herendil was struck down. Elendil rescued him and set him on ship- board, and 'pursued by the bolts of Tarkalion' they sailed back east. 'As they approach Numenor the world bends; they see the land slipping towards them'; and Elendil falls into the deep and is drowned.> This group of notes ends with references to the coming of the Numenoreans to Middle-earth, and to the 'later stories'; 'the flying ships', 'the painted caves', 'how Elf-friend walked on the Straight Road'. Other notes refer to plans laid by the 'anti-Saurians' for an assault on the Temple, plans betrayed by Herendil 'on condition that Elendil is spared'; the assault is defeated and Elendil captured. Either associated with this or distinct from it is a suggestion that Herendil is arrested and imprisoned in the dungeons of Sauron, and that Elendil renounces the Gods to save his son. My guess is that all this had been rejected when the actual narrative was written, and that the words of Herendil that conclude it show that my father had then in mind some quite distinct solution, in which Elendil and his son remained united in the face of whatever events overtook them.+ In the early narratives there is no indication of the duration of the realm of Numenor from its foundation to its ruin; and there is only one named king. In his conversation with Herendil, Elendil attributes all the evils that have befallen to the coming of Sauron: they have arisen therefore in a quite brief time (forty-four years, p. 66); whereas in the Akallabeth, when a great extension of Numenorean history had taken (* It would be interesting to know if a tantalisingly obscure note, scribbled down in isolation, refers to this dimly-glimpsed story: 'If either fails the other they perish and do not return. Thus at the last moment Elendil must prevail on Herendil to hold back, otherwise they would have perished. At that moment he sees himself as Alboin: and realises that Elendil and Herendil had perished.' + I have suggested (p. 31) that since Elendil of Numenor appears in FN II ($ 14) as king in Beleriand he must have been among those who took no part in the expedition of Tar-kalion, but 'sat in their ships upon the east coast of the land' (FN $9). place, those evils began long before, and are indeed traced back as far as the twelfth ruler, Tar-Ciryatan the Shipbuilder, who took the sceptre nearly a millennium and a half before the Downfall (Akallabeth p. 265, Unfinished Tales p. 221). From Elendil's words at the end of The Lost Road there emerges a sinister picture: the withdrawal of the besotted and aging king from the public view, the unexplained disappearance of people unpopular with the 'government', informers, prisons, torture, secrecy, fear of the night; propaganda in the form of the 'rewriting of history' (as exemplified by Herendil's words concerning what was now said about Earendel, p. 60); the multiplication of weapons of war, the purpose of which is concealed but guessed at; and behind all the dreadful figure of Sauron, the real power, surveying the whole land from the Mountain of Numenor. The teaching of Sauron has led to the invention of ships of metal that traverse the seas without sails, but which are hideous in the eyes of those who have not abandoned or forgotten Tol-eressea; to the building of grim for- tresses and unlovely towers; and to missiles that pass with a noise like thunder to strike their targets many miles away. Moreover, Numenor is seen by the young as over-populous, boring, 'over-known': 'every tree and grass-blade is counted', in Herendil's words; and this cause of discontent is used, it seems, by Sauron to further the policy of 'imperial' expansion and ambition that he presses on the king. When at this time my father reached back to the world of the first man to bear the name 'Elf- friend' he found there an image of what he most condemned and feared in his own. (iii) The unwritten chapters. It cannot be shown whether my father decided to alter the structure of the book by postponing the Numenorean story to the end before he abandoned the fourth chapter at Herendil's words 'I stay, father'; but it seems perfectly possible that the decision in fact led to the abandonment. At any rate, on a separate sheet he wrote: 'Work backwards to Numenor and make that last', adding a proposal that in each tale a man should utter the words about the Eagles of the Lord of the West, but only at the end would it be discovered what they meant (see pp. 75 - 6). This is followed by a rapid jotting down of ideas for the tales that should intervene between Alboin and Audoin of the twentieth century and Elendil and Herendil in Numenor, but these are tantalisingly brief: 'Lombard story?'; 'a Norse story of ship-burial (Vinland)'; 'an English story - of the man who got onto the Straight Road?'; 'a Tuatha-de-Danaan story, or Tir-nan-Og' (on which see pp. 81 - 3); a story concerning 'painted caves'; 'the Ice Age - great figures in ice', and 'Before the Ice Age: the Galdor story'; 'post-Beleriand and the Elendil and Gil-galad story of the assault on Thu'; and finally 'the Numenor story'. To one of these, the 'English story of the man who got onto the Straight Road', is attached a more extended note, written at great speed: But this would do best of all for introduction to the Lost Tales: How AElfwine sailed the Straight Road. They sailed on, on, on over the sea; and it became very bright and very calm, - no clouds, no wind. The water seemed thin and white below. Looking down AElfwine suddenly saw lands and mt [i.e. mountains or a mountain] down in the water shining in the sun. Their breathing difficulties. His companions dive overboard one by one. AElfwine falls insensible when he smells a marvellous fragrance as of land and flowers. He awakes to find the ship being drawn by people walking in the water. He is told very few men there in a thousand years can breathe air of Eressea (which is Avallon), but none beyond. So he comes to Eressea and is told the Lost Tales. Pencilled later against this is 'Story of Sceaf or Scyld'; and it was only here, I think, that the idea of the Anglo-Saxon episode arose (and this was the only one of all these projections that came near to getting off the ground). This note is of particular interest in that it shows my father combining the old story of the voyage of AElfwine to Tol-eressea and the telling of the Lost Tales with the idea of the World Made Round and the Straight Path, which entered at this time. With the words about the difficulty of breathing cf. FN $ 12, where it is said that the Straight Path 'cut through the air of breath and flight [Wilwa, Vista], and traversed Ilmen, in which no flesh can endure.' My father then (as I judge) roughed out an outline for the structure of the book as he now foresaw it. Chapter III was to be called A Step Backward: AElfwine and Eadzvine * - the Anglo-Saxon incarnation of the father and son, and incorporating the legend of King Sheave; Chapter IV 'the Irish legend of Tuatha-de-Danaan - and oldest man in the world'; Chapter V 'Prehistoric North: old kings found buried in the ice': Chapter VI 'Beleriand'; Chapter VIII (presumably a slip for VII) 'Elendil and Herendil in Numenor'. It is interesting to see that there is now no mention of the Lombard legend as an ingredient: see p. 55. This outline structure was sent to Allen and Unwin with the manu- script and was incorporated in the typescript made there. Apart from the Anglo-Saxon episode, the only scrap of connected writing for any of the suggested tales is an extremely obscure and roughly-written fragment that appears to be a part of 'the Galdor story' (p. 77). In this, one Agaldor stands on a rocky shore at evening and sees great clouds coming up, 'like the very eagles of the Lord of the West'. He is filled with a formless foreboding at the sight of these clouds; and he (* I think it almost certain that the titles of Chapters I and 11 were put in at this time: as the manuscript was written they had no titles.) turns and climbs up the beach, passing down behind the land-wall to the houses where lights are already lit. He is eyed doubtfully by men sitting at a door, and after he has gone by they speak of him. 'There goes Agaldor again, from his speech with the sea: earlier than usual,' said one. 'He has been haunting the shores more than ever of late.' 'He will be giving tongue soon, and prophesying strange things,' said another; 'and may the Lords of the West set words more comforting in his mouth than before.' 'The Lords of the West will tell him naught,' said a third. 'If ever they were on land or sea they have left this earth, and man is his own master from here to the sunrise. Why should we be plagued with the dreams of a twilight-walker? His head is stuffed with them, and there let them bide. One would think to hear him talk that the world had ended in the last age, not new begun, and we were living in the ruins.' 'He is one of the old folk, and well-nigh the last of the long-lived in these regions,' said another. 'Those who knew the Eldar and had seen even the Sons of the Gods had a wisdom we forget.' 'Wisdom I know not,' said the other, 'but woe certainly in abundance if any of their tales are true. I know not (though I doubt it). But give me the Sun. That is glory... I would that the long life of Agaldor might be shortened. It is he that holds [?? nigh] this sea-margin - too near the mournful water. I would we had a leader to take us East or South. They say the land is golden in the [??domains) of the Sun.' Here the fragment ends. Agaldor has appeared in the original outline for The Fall of Numenor: 'Agaldor chieftain of a people who live upon the N.W. margin of the Western Sea' (p. 11), and later in that text it was Agaldor who wrestled with Thu, though the name was there changed at the time of writing to Amroth (p. 12). That this is a fragment of 'the Galdor story' seems to be shown by a pencilled and partly illegible scrawl at the head of the page, where Galdor appears; but the story is here significantly different. Galdor is a good man [?among] the exiles (not a Numenorean) - not a long-liver but a prophet. He prophesies [?coming] of Numenoreans and [?salvation] of men. Hence holds his men by sea. This foreboding passage heralds the Ruin and the Flood. How he escapes in the flood..... of land. The Numenoreans come - but appear no longer as good but as rebels against the Gods. They slay Galdor and take the chieftainship. There is very little to build on here, and I shall not offer any speculations. The story was abandoned without revealing how the AElfwine-Eadwine element would enter. Turning now to 'the AElfwine story', there are several pages of very rough notes and abandoned beginnings. One of these pages consists of increasingly rapid and abbreviated notes, as follows: AElfwine and Eadwine live in the time of Edward the Elder, in North Somerset. AElfwine ruined by the incursions of Danes. Picture opens with the attack (c. 915) on Portloca (Porlock) and Waeced. AElfwine is awaiting Eadwine's return at night. (The attack actually historically took place in autumn, at harfest). Conversation of AElfwine and Eadwine. Eadwine is sick of it. He says the Danes have more sense; always pressing on. They go west. They pass round and go to Ireland; while the English sit like Wealas waiting to be made into slaves. Eadwine says he has heard strange tales from Ireland. A land in the North-west filled with ice, but fit for men to dwell - holy hermits have been driven out by Norsemen. AElfwine has Christian objections. Eadwine says the holy Brendan did so centuries ago - and lots of others, [as] Maelduin. And they came back - not that he would want to. Insula Deliciarum - even Paradise. AElfwine objects that Paradise cannot be got to by ship - there are deeper waters between us than Garsecg. Roads are bent: you come back in the end. No escape by ship. Eadwine says he does not think it true - and hopes it isn't. At any rate their ancestors had won new lands by ship. Quotes story of Sceaf. In the end they go off with ten neighbours. Pursued by Vikings off Lundy. Wind takes them out to sea, and persists. Eadwine falls sick and says odd things. AElfwine dreams too. Mountainous seas. The Straight Road..... water (island of Azores?)..... off. AElfwine [?restores? restrains] Eadwine. Thinks it a vision of delirium. The vision of Eressea and the sound of voices. Resigns himself to die but prays for Eadwine. Sensation of falling. They come down in [?real] sea and west wind blows them back. Land in Ireland (impli- cation is they settle there, and this leads to Finntan). I add some notes on this far-ranging outline. Edward the Elder, eldest son of King Alfred, reigned from 900 to 924. In the year 914 a large Viking fleet, coming from Brittany, appeared in the Bristol Channel, and began ravaging in the lands beyond the Severn. According to the Anglo- Saxon Chronicle the leaders were two jarls ('earls') named Ohtor and Hroald. The Danes were defeated at Archenfield (Old English Ircingafeld) in Herefordshire and forced to give hostages in pledge of their departure. King Edward was in arms with the forces of Wessex on the south side of the Severn estuary, 'so that', in the words of the Chronicle, 'they did not dare to attack the land anywhere on that side. Nonetheless they twice stole inland by night, on one occasion east of Watchet and on the other at Porlock (aet oprum cierre be eastan Waeced, and aet oprum cierre at Portlocan). Each time they were attacked and only those escaped who swam out to the ships; and after that they were out on the island of Steepholme, until they had scarcely any food, and many died of hunger. From there they went to Dyfed [South Wales] and from there to Ireland; and that was in the autumn (and pis waes on harfest).' Porlock and Watchet are on the north coast of Somerset; the island of Steepholme lies to the North-east, in the mouth of the Severn. My father retained this historical mise-en-scene in the draft of a brief 'AElfwine' narrative given below, pp. 83 - 4, and years later in The Notion Club Papers (1945). Wealas: the British (as distinct from the English or Anglo-Saxons); in Modern English Wales, the name of the people having become the name of the land. 'A land in the North-west filled with ice, but fit for men to dwell - holy hermits have been driven out by Norsemen.' It is certain that by the end of the eighth century (and how much earlier cannot be said) Irish voyagers had reached Iceland, in astounding journeys achieved in their boats called curachs, made of hides over a wooden frame. This is known from the work of an Irish monk named Dicuil, who in his book Liber de Mensura Orbis Terrae (written in 825) recorded that It is now thirty years since certain priests who lived in that island from the first day of February to the first day of August told me that not only at the summer solstice, but also in the days before and after, the setting sun at evening hides itself as if behind a little hill, so that it does not grow dark even for the shortest period of time, but whatever task a man wishes to perforni, even picking the lice out of his shirt, he can do it just as if it were broad daylight. When the first Norsemen came to Iceland (about 860) there were Irish hermits living there. This is recorded by the Icelandic historian Ari the Learned (1067 - 1148), who wrote: At that time Christian men whom the Norsemen call papar dwelt here; but afterwards they went away, because they would not live here together with heathen men, and they left behind them Irish books, bells, and croziers; from which it could be seen that they were Irishmen. Many places in the south of Iceland, such as Papafjordr and the island of Papey, still bear names derived from the Irish papar. But nothing is known of their fate: they fled, and they left behind their precious things. Brendan; Maelduin; Insula Deliciarum. The conception of a 'blessed land' or 'fortunate isles' in the Western Ocean is a prominent feature of the old Irish legends: Tir-nan-Og, the land of youth; Hy Bresail, the fortunate isle; Insula Deliciosa; etc. Tir-nan-Og is mentioned as a possible story for The Lost Road, p. 77. The holy Brendan is Saint Brendan called the Navigator, founder of the Abbey of Clonfert in Galway, and the subject of the most famous of the tales of seavoyaging (imrama) told of early Irish saints. Another is the Imram Maelduin, in which Maelduin and his companions set out from Ireland in a curach and came in their voyaging to many islands in succession, where they encountered marvel upon marvel, as did Saint Brendan. My father's poem Imram, in which Saint Brendan at the end of his life recalls the three things that he remembers from his voyage, was pub- lished in 1955, but it originally formed a part of The Notion Club Papers. Many years before, he had written a poem (The Nameless Land) on the subject of a paradisal country 'beyond the Shadowy Sea', in which Brendan is named. This poem and its later forms are given in a note at the end of this chapter, pp. 98 ff.; to the final version is attached a prose note on AElfwine's voyage that relates closely to the end of the present outline. Garsecg: the Ocean. See II. 312 and note 19; also the Index to Vol. I V, entry Belegar. Sceaf: see pp. 7, 78, and 85 ff. Lundy: an island off the west coast of Devon. It is unfortunate that the last part of this outline is so illegible. The words following 'The Straight Road' could be interpreted as 'a world like water'. After the mysterious reference to the Azores the first word is a noun or name in the plural, and is perhaps followed by 'driven'. Finntan: An isolated note elsewhere among these papers reads: 'See Lit. Celt. p. 137. Oldest man in the world Finntan (Narkil White Fire).' The reference turns out to be to a work entitled The Literature of the Celts, by Magnus Maclean (1906). In the passage to which my father referred the author wrote of the history of Ireland according to mediaeval Irish annalists: Forty days before the Flood, the Lady Caesair, niece or granddaughter of Noah - it is immaterial which - with fifty girls and three men came to Ireland. This, we are to understand, was the first invasion or conquest of that country. All these were drowned in the Deluge, except Finntan, the husband of the lady, who escaped by being cast into a deep sleep, in which he continued for a year, and when he awoke he found himself in his own house at Dun Tulcha.... At Dun Tulcha he lived throughout many dynasties down to the sixth century of our era, when he appears for the last time with eighteen companies of his descendants engaged in settling a boundary dispute. Being the oldest man in the world, he was ipso facto the best informed regarding ancient landmarks. After the Flood various peoples in succession stepped onto the platform of Irish history. First the Partholans, then the Nemedians, Firbolgs, Tuatha de Danaan, and last of all the Milesians, thus carrying the chronology down to the time of Christ. From the arrival of the earliest of these settlers, the Fomorians or 'Sea Rovers' are represented as fighting and harassing the people. Sometimes in con- junction with the plague, at other times with the Firbolgs and Gaileoin and Fir-Domnann, they laid waste the land. The Partholans and Nemedians were early disposed of. And then appeared from the north of Europe, or from heaven, as one author says, the Tuatha de Danann, who at the great battle of Moytura South overcame the Firbolgs, scattering them to the islands of Aran, Islay, Rathlin, and the Hebrides, and afterwards defeating the Fomorians at Moytura North, thus gaining full possession of the land. The Tuatha de Danann are twice mentioned (pp. 77 - 8) as a possible narrative element in The Lost Road. The only actual narrative concerning AElfwine from this time (apart from some beginnings abandoned after a few lines) is brief and roughly scrawled; but it was to be used afterwards, and in places quite closely followed, in The Notion Club Papers. AElfwine awoke with a start - he had been dozing on a bench with his back to a pillar. The voices poured in on him like a torrent. He felt he had been dreaming; and for a moment the English speech about him sounded strange, though mostly it was the soft speech of western Wessex. Here and there were men of the Marches, and a few spoke oddly, using strange words after the manner of those among whom the Danes dwelt in the eastern lands. He looked down the hall, looking for his son Eadwine. He was due on leave from the fleet, but had not yet come. There was a great crowd in the hall, for King Edward was here. The fleet was in the Severn sea, and the south shore was in arms. The jarls had been defeated far north at Irchenfield, but the Danish ships were still at large on the Welsh coast; and the men of Somerset and Devon were on guard. AElfwine looked down the hall. The faces of the men, some old and careworn, some young and eager, were dim, not only because the torchlight was wavering and the candles on the high table were guttering. He looked beyond them. There was a wind blowing, surging round the house; timbers creaked. The sound brought back old longings to him that he had thought were long buried. He was born in the year the Danes wintered in Sheppey, and he had sailed many seas and heard many winds since then. The sound of the west wind and the fall of seas on the beaches had always been a challenging music to him. Especially in spring. But now it was autumn, and also he was growing old. And the seas were wide, beyond the power of man to cross - to unknown shores: wide and dangerous. The faces of the men about him faded and the clamour of their voices was changed. He heard the crash of waves on the black cliffs and the sea-birds diving and crying; and snow and hail fell. Then the seas opened pale and wide; the sun shone on the land and the sound and smell of it fell far behind. He was alone going west towards the setting sun with fear and longing in his heart, drawn against his will. His dream was broken by calls for the minstrel. 'Let AElfwine sing! ' men were crying. The king had sent to bid him sing something. He lifted up his voice and chanted aloud, but as one speaking to himself alone: Monad modes lust mid mereflode ford to feran, paet ic feor heonan ofer hean holmas, ofer hwaeles edel elpeodigra eard gesece. Nis me to hearpan hyge ne to hring pege ne to wife wyn ne to worulde hyht ne ymb owiht elles nefne ymb yda gewealc. 'The desire of my spirit urges me to journey forth over the flowing sea, that far hence across the hills of water and the whale's country I may seek the land of strangers. No mind have I for harp, nor gift of ring, nor delight in women, nor joy in the world, nor concern with aught else save the rolling of the waves.' Then he stopped suddenly. There was some laughter, and a few jeers, though many were silent, as if feeling that the words were not spoken to their ears - old and familiar as they were, words of the old poets whom most men had heard often. 'If he has no mind to the harp he need expect no [?wagesj,' said one. 'Is there a mortal here who has a mind?' 'We have had enough of the sea,' said another. 'A spell of Dane-hunting would cure most men's love of it.' 'Let him go rolling on the waves,' said another. 'It is no great sail to the... Welsh country, where folk are strange enough - and the Danes to talk to as well.' 'Peace! ' said an old man sitting near the threshold. 'AElfwine has sailed more seas than you have heard of; and the Welsh tongue is not strange to him..... His wife was of Cornwall. He has been to Ireland and the North, and some say far to the west of all living lands. Let him say what his mood bids.' There was a short silence. The text ends here. The historical situation is slightly filled out, with mention of the Viking jarls and their defeat at Irchenfield (Archenfield), on which see p. So. AElfwine 'was born in the year the Danes wintered in Sheppey' (the isle of Sheppey off the north coast of Kent). The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records under the year 855: Her haepne men aerest on Sceapige ofer winter saetun (In this year heathen men for the first time stayed in Sheppey ['Sheep-isle'] over the winter); but an earlier wintering on Thanet is recorded under 851. These winterings by Vikings were ominous of what was to come, a sign of the transition from isolated raids followed by a quick departure to the great invasions in the time of AEthelred and Alfred. - AElfwine was therefore approaching sixty at this time. The verses that AElfwine chanted are derived from the Old English poem known as The Seafarer, with the omission of five lines from the original after line 4, and some alterations of wording. The third line is an addition (and is enclosed, both in the Old English and in the translation, in square brackets in the manuscript). With the reference to AElfwine's wife who came from Cornwall cf. the old tale of AElfwine of England, where his mother came 'from the West, from Lionesse' (II. 313). It seems to me certain that what was to follow immediately on the end of this brief narrative was the legend of King Sheave, which in one of the three texts is put into AElfwine's mouth (and which follows here in The Notion Club Papers, though it is not there given to AElfwine). There is both a prose and a verse form of King Sheave; and it may well be that the prose version, which I give first, belongs very closely with the AElfwine narrative; there is no actual link between them, but the two manuscripts are very similar. To the shore the ship came and strode upon the sand, grinding upon the broken shingle. In the twilight as the sun sank men came down to it, and looked within. A boy lay there, asleep. He was fair of face and limb, dark-haired, white-skinned, but clad in gold. The inner parts of the boat were gold-adorned, a vessel of gold filled with clear water was at his side, [added: at his right was a harp,] beneath his head was a sheaf of corn, the stalks and ears of which gleamed like gold in the dusk. Men knew not what it was. In wonder they drew the boat high upon the beach, and lifted the boy and bore him up, and laid him sleeping in a wooden house in their burh. They set guards about the door. In the morning the chamber was empty. But upon a high rock men saw the boy standing. The sheaf was in his arms. As the risen sun shone down, he began to sing in a strange tongue, and they were filled with awe. For they had not yet heard singing, nor seen such beauty. And they had no king among them, for their kings had perished, and they were lordless and unguided. Therefore they took the boy to be king, and they called him Sheaf; and so is his name remembered in song. For his true name was hidden and is forgotten. Yet he taught men many new words, and their speech was enriched. Song and verse-craft he taught them, and rune- craft, and tillage and husbandry, and the making of many things; and in his time the dark forests receded and there was plenty, and corn grew in the land; and the carven houses of men were filled with gold and storied webs. The glory of King Sheaf sprang far and wide in the isles of the North. His children were many and fair, and it is sung that of them are come the kings of men of the North Danes and the West Danes, the South Angles and the East Gothfolk. And in the time of the Sheaf-lords there was peace in the isles, and ships went unarmed from land to land bearing treasure and rich merchandise. And a man might cast a golden ring upon the highway and it would remain until he took it up again. Those days songs have called the golden years, while the great mill of Sheaf was guarded still in the island sanctuary of the North; and from the mill came golden grain, and there was no want in all the realms. But it came to pass after long years that Sheaf summoned his friends and counsellors, and he told them that he would depart. For the shadow of old age was fallen upon him (out of the East) and he would return whence he came. Then there was great mourning. But Sheaf laid him upon his golden bed, and became as one in deep slumber; and his lords obeying his commands while he yet ruled and had command of speech set him in a ship. He lay beside the mast, which was tall, and the sails were golden. Treasures of gold and of gems and fine raiment and costly stuffs were laid beside him. His golden banner flew above his head. In this manner he was arrayed more richly than when he came among them; and they thrust him forth to sea, and the sea took him, and the ship bore him unsteered far away into the uttermost West out of the sight or thought of men. Nor do any know who received him in what haven at the end of his journey. Some have said that that ship found the Straight Road. But none of the children of Sheaf went that way, and many in the beginning lived to a great age, but coming under the shadow of the East they were laid in great tombs of stone or in mounds like green hills; and most of these were by the western sea, high and broad upon the shoulders of the land, whence men can descry them that steer their ships amid the shadows of the sea. This is a first draft, written at speed and very roughly; but the form in alliterative verse is very finished, so far as it goes (it does not extend to the departure of Sheaf, or Sheave, and was not added to for its inclusion in The Notion Club Papers). There are two texts of the verse form: (i) a clear manuscript in which the poem is written out as prose, and (ii) a more hasty text in which it is written out in verse-lines. It is hard to decide which of the two came first, but the poem is in any case almost identical in the two versions, which were obviously closely contempor- ary. I print it here in lines, with breaks introduced from the paragraphs of the 'prose' form. Version (i) has a formal title, King Sheave; (ii) has a short narrative opening, which could very well follow the words 'There was a short silence' on p. 84. Suddenly AElfwine struck a note on his harp. 'Lo!' he cried, loud and clear, and men stiffened to attention. 'Lo! ' he cried, and began to chant an ancient tale, yet he was half aware that he was telling it afresh, adding and altering words, not so much by improvisation as after long pondering hidden from himself, catch- ing at the shreds of dreams and visions. In days of yore out of deep Ocean to the Longobards, in the land dwelling that of old they held amid the isles of the North, a ship came sailing, shining-timbered without oar and mast, eastward Hoating. The sun behind it sinking westward with flame kindled the fallow water. Wind was wakened. Over the world's margin clouds greyhelmed climbed slowly up wings unfolding wide and looming, 10 as mighty eagles moving onward to eastern Earth omen bearing. Men there marvelled, in the mist standing of the dark islands in the deeps of time: laughter they knew not, light nor wisdom; shadow was upon them, and sheer mountains stalked behind them stern and lifeless, evilhaunted. The East was dark. The ship came shining to the shore driven and strode upon the strand, till its stem rested 20 on sand and shingle. The sun went down. The clouds overcame the cold heavens. In fear and wonder to the fallow water sadhearted men swiftly hastened to the broken beaches the boat seeking, gleaming-timbered in the grey twilight. They looked within, and there laid sleeping a boy they saw breathing softly: his face was fair, his form lovely, his limbs were white, his locks raven 30 golden-braided. Gilt and carven with wondrous work was the wood about him. In golden vessel gleaming water stood beside him; strung with silver a harp of gold neath his hand rested; his sleeping head was soft pillowed on a sheaf of corn shimmering palely as the fallow gold doth from far countries west of Angol. Wonder filled them. The boat they hauled and on the beach moored it 40 high above the breakers; then with hands lifted from the bosom its burden. The boy slumbered. On his bed they bore him to their bleak dwellings darkwalled and drear in a dim region between waste and sea. There of wood builded high above the houses was a hall standing forlorn and empty. Long had it stood so, no noise knowing, night nor morning, no light seeing. They laid him there, under lock left him lonely sleeping 50 in the hollow darkness. They held the doors. Night wore away. New awakened as ever on earth early morning; day came dimly. Doors were opened. Men strode within, then amazed halted; fear and wonder filled the watchmen. The house was bare, hall deserted; no form found they on the Hoor lying, but by bed forsaken the bright vessel dry and empty in the dust standing. 60 The guest was gone. Grief o'ercame them. In sorrow they sought him, till the sun rising over the hills of heaven to the homes of men light came bearing. They looked upward and high upon a hill hoar and treeless the guest beheld they: gold was shining in his hair, in hand the harp he bore; at his feet they saw the fallow-golden cornsheaf lying. Then clear his voice a song began, sweet, unearthly, 70 words in music woven strangely, in t./, " ~r dim houses. Doors were opened and gates unbarred. Gladness wakened. To the hill they thronged, and their heads lifting on the guest they gazed. Greybearded men bowed before him and blessed his coming 90 their years to heal; youths and maidens, wives and children welcome gave him. His song was ended. Silent standing he looked upon them. Lord they called him; king they made him, crowned with golden wheaten garland, white his raiment, his harp his sceptre. In his house was fire, food and wisdom; there fear came not. To manhood he grew, might and wisdom. Sheave they called him, whom the ship brought them, 100 a name renowned in the North countries ever since in song. For a secret hidden his true name was, in tongue unknown of far countries where the falling seas wash western shores beyond the ways of men since the world worsened. The word is forgotten and the name perished. Their need he healed, and laws renewed long forsaken. Words he taught them wise and lovel> - their tongue ripened in the time of Sheave 110 to song and music. Secrets he opened runes revealing. Riches he gave them, reward of labour, wealth and comfort from the earth calling, acres ploughing, sowing in season seed of plenty, hoarding in garner golden harvest for the help of men. The hoar forests in his days drew back to the dark mountains; the shadow receded, and shining corn, white ears of wheat, whispered in the breezes 120 where waste had been. The woods trembled. Halls and houses hewn of timber, strong towers of stone steep and lofty, golden-gabled, in his guarded city they raised and roofed. In his royal dwelling of wood well-cari en the walls were wrought; fair-hued figures filled with silver, gold and scarlet, gleaming hung there, stories boding of strange countries, were one wise in wit the woven legends 130 to thread with thought. At his throne men found counsel and comfort and care's healing, justice in judgement. Generous-handed his gifts he gave. Glory was uplifted. Far sprang his fame over fallow water, through Northern lands the renown echoed of the shining king, Sheave the mighty. At the end of (ii) occur eight lines which seem to have been added to the text; they were also inserted in pencil to the 'prose' text (i), here written in as verse-lines, with a further eight lines following (the whole passage of sixteen lines was struck through, hut it was used afterwards in The Notion Club Papers, in the form of an addition to the poem proper). Seven sons he begat, sires of princes, men great in mind, mighty-handed and high-hearted. From his house cometh the seeds of kings, as songs tell us, fathers of the fathers, who before the change in the Elder Years the earth governed, Northern kingdoms named and founded, shields of their peoples: Sheave begat them: Sea-danes and Goths, Swedes and Northmen, Franks and Frisians, folk of the islands, Swordmen and Saxons, Swabes and English, and the Langobards who long ago beyond Myrcwudu a mighty realm 150 and wealth won them in the Welsh countries where AElfwine Eadwine's heir in Italy was king. All that has passed. Notes on King Sheave. References in the following notes are given to the lines of the poem. 1-3. On the association of Sheave with the Longobards (Lombards) see p. 93. 7. The word fallow ('golden, golden-brown') is used several times in this poem of water, and once of gold (38); the corn sheaf is fallow-golden (68). See III. 369. 8-12. The 'eagle-clouds' that precede Sheave's coming in the poem do not appear in the prose version. 39. Angol: the ancient home of the English before their migration across the North Sea. See I. 24, 252 (entry Eriol). 142-3. I am at a loss to say what is referred to in these lines, where the 'fathers of the fathers' who founded kingdoms in the North, the descendants of Sheave, 'governed the earth before the change in the Elder Years'. 148. Swordmen: it is evident that this is intended as the name of a people, but it is not clear to me which people. Conceivably, my father had in mind the Brondingas, ruled by Breca, Beowulf's opponent in the swimming-match, for that name has been interpreted to contain the word brond (brand) 'sword'. Swabes: this reading seems clear (Swabians in The Notion Club Papers). The Old English form was Swaefe: thus in Widsith is found Engle and Swaefe, and Mid Englum ic waes rind mid Swaefum. The Suevi of Roman historians, a term used hroadly to cover many Germanic tribes, but here evidently used as in Widsith to refer particularly to Swabians dwelling in the North and neighbours of the Angles. 150. Myrcwudu (Old English): 'Mirkwood'. This was an ancient Germanic legendary name for a great dark boundary-forest, found in various quite different applications. The reference here is to the Eastern Alps (see note to line 151). 151. Welsh: 'foreign' (Roman). My father used the word here in the ancient sense. The old Germanic word walhoz meant 'Celtic or Roman foreigner'; whence in the plural the Old English Walas (modern Wales), the Celts of Britain. So in Widsith the Romans are called Rum-walas, and Caesar ruled over the towns and riches of Wala rice, the realm of the Walas. A line in King Sheave rejected in favour of 150 - 1 reads Wide realms won them beyond the Welsh Mountains, and these are the Alps. The ancient meaning survives in the word walnut, 'nut of the Roman lands'; also in Wallace, Walloon. 152 - 3. See pp. 54-5. The roots of King Sheave lie far back in Northern Germanic legend. There are three primary sources: Beowulf, and the statements of two later chroniclers writing in Latin, AEthelweard (who died about the year 1000), and William of Malmesbury (who died in 1143). I give those of the historians first. In AEthelweard's Chronicle the genealogy of the English kings ends with the names Beo - Scyld - Scef (which mean Barley, Shield, and Sheaf; Old English sc = 'sh'); and of Scef he says: This Scef came in a swift boat, surrounded by arms, to an island of the ocean called Scani, and he was a very young boy, and unknown to the people of that country; but he was taken up by them, and they watched over him attentively as one of their own kin, and afterwards chose him to be their king. William of Malmesbury (a writer notable for his drawing on popular stories and songs) has likewise in his genealogy the three figures Beowius - Sceldius - Sceaf, and he tells this of Sceaf: He, as they say, was brought as a child in a boat without any oarsman to Scandza, a certain island of Germany.... He was asleep, and by his head was placed a handful of corn, on which account he was called 'Sheaf'. He was regarded as a marvel by the people of that country, and carefully fostered; when he was grown he ruled in the town which was then called Slaswic, hut now Haithebi. That region is called Old Anglia, whence the Angli came to Britain. The prologue, or as my father called it the exordium, to Beowulf, 1 give from his prose translation of the poem. Lo! the glory of the kings of the people of the Spear-Danes in days of old we have heard tell, how those princes deeds of valour wrought. Oft Scyld Scefing robbed the hosts of foemen, many peoples of the seats where they drank their mead, laid fear upon men, who first was found in poverty; comfort for that he lived to know, mighty grew under heaven, throve in honour, until all that dwelt nigh about over the sea where the whale rides must hearken to him and yield him tribute - a good king was he! To him was an heir afterwards born, a young child in his courts whom God sent for the comfort of the people: perceiving the dire need which they long while endured aforetime being without a prince. To him therefore the Lord of Life who rules in glory granted honour among men: Beowulf was renowned, far and wide his glory sprang - the heir of Scyld in Scedeland. Thus doth a young man bring it to pass with good deed and gallant gifts, while he dwells in his father's bosom, that after in his age there cleave to him loyal knights of his table, and the people stand by him when war shall come. By worthy deeds in every folk is a man ennobled. Then at his allotted hour Scyld the valiant passed into the keeping of the Lord; and to the flowing sea his dear comrades bore him, even as he himself had bidden them while yet their prince he ruled them with his words - beloved lord of the land, long was he master. There at the haven stood with ringed prow, ice-hung, eager to be gone, the prince's bark; they laid then their beloved king, giver of rings, in the bosom of the ship, in glory by the mast. There were many precious things and treasures brought from regions far away; nor have I heard tell that men ever in more seemly wise arrayed a boat with weapons of war and harness of battle; on his lap lay treasures heaped that now must go with him far into the dominion of the sea. With lesser gifts no whit did they adorn him, with treasures of that people, than did those that in the beginning sent him forth alone over the waves, a little child. More- over, high above his head they set a golden standard and gave him to Ocean, let the sea bear him. Sad was their heart and mourning in their soul. None can report with truth, nor lords in their halls, nor mighty men beneath the sky, who received that load. There is also a reference to a king named Sheaf (Sceafa) in Widsith, where in a list of rulers and the peoples they ruled occurs Sceafa [weold] Longbeardum, 'Sheaf ruled the Lombards'; at the beginning of the poem King Sheave it is to the Lombards that the boat bearing the child comes. This is obviously not the place to enter into elaborate discussion of so intricate a subject as that of Scyld Scefing: 'a most astonishing tangle', my father called it. His lectures at Oxford during these years devote many pages to refined analysis of the evidences, and of competing theories concerning them. The long-fought argument concerning the meaning of 'Shield Sheafing' in Beowulf - does 'Sheafing' mean 'with a sheaf' or 'son of Sheaf', and is 'Shield' or 'Sheaf' the original ancestor king? - could in my father's opinion be settled with some certainty. In a summarising statement of his views in another lecture (here very slightly edited) he said: Scyld is the eponymous ancestor of the Scyldingas, the Danish royal house to which Hrothgar King of the Danes in this poem belongs. His name is simply 'Shield': and he is a 'fiction', that is a name derived from the 'heraldic' family name Scyldingas after they became famous. This process was aided by the fact that the Old English (and Germanic) ending -ing, which could mean 'connected with, associated with, provided with', etc., was also the usual patronymic ending. The invention of this eponymous 'Shield' was probably Danish, that is actually the work of Danish dynastic historians (pylas) and alliterative poets (scopas) in the lifetime of the kings of whom we hear in Beowulf, the certainly historical Healfdene and Hrothgar. As for Scefing, it can thus, as we see, mean 'provided with a sheaf, connected in some way with a sheaf of corn', or son of a figure called Sheaf. In favour of the latter is the fact that there are English traditions of a mythical (not the same as eponymous and fictitious) ancestor called Sceaf, or Sceafa, belonging to ancient culture-myths of the North; and of his special association with Danes. In favour of the former is the fact that Scyld comes out of the unknown, a babe, and the name of his father, if he had any, could not be known by him or the Danes who received him. But such poetic matters are not strictly logical. Only in Beowulf are the two divergent traditions about the Danes blended in this way, the heraldic and the mythical. I think the poet meant (Shield) Sheafing as a patronymic. He was blending the vague and fictitious warlike glory of the eponymous ancestor of the conquering house with the more mysterious, far older and more poetical myths of the mysterious arrival of the babe, the corn-god or the culture-hero his descendant, at the beginning of a people's history, and adding to it a mysterious Arthurian departure, back into the unknown, enriched by traditions of ship-burials in the not very remote heathen past - to make a magnificent and suggestive exordium, and background to his tale. Beowulf, son of Scyld Scefing, who appears in the exordium (to every reader's initial confusion, since he is wholly unconnected with the hero of the poem) my father held to be a corruption of Beow ('Barley') - which is the name found in the genealogies (p. 92). To my mind it is overwhelmingly probable [he wrote] that the Beowulf name properly belongs only to the story of the bear-boy (that is of Beowulf the Geat); and that it is a fairy-tale name, in fact a 'kenning' for bear: 'Bee-wolf', that is 'honey-raider'. Such a name would be very unlikely to be transferred to the Scylding line by the poet, or at any time while the stories and legends which are the main fabric of the poem had any existence independent of it. I believe that Beow was turned into Beowulf after the poet's time, in the process of scribal tradition, either deliberately (and unhappily), or merely casually and erroneously. Elsewhere he wrote: A complete and entirely satisfactory explanation of the peculiarities of the exordium has naturally never been given. Here is what seems to me the most probable view. The exordium is poetry, not (in intent) history. It was composed for its present place, and its main purpose was to glorify Scyld and his family, and so enhance the background against which the struggle of Grendel and Beowulf takes place. The choice of a marvellous legend, rather than a mere dynastic invention, was therefore natural. That our author was working principally on the blended form: Beow < Scyld < Sceaf [found in the genealogies, see p. 92] is shown by his retention of the patronymic Scefing. This title has indeed little point in his version, and certainly would not have appeared, had he really drawn on a story in which it was Scyld that came in a boat; while certain points in his account (the little destitute child) belong clearly to the Sheaf-Barley legends. Why then did he make Scyld the child in the boat? - plainly his own device: it occurs nowhere else. Here are some probable reasons: (a) He was concentrating all the glamour on Scyld and the Scylding name. (b) A departure over sea - a sea-burial - was already associated with northern chieftains in old poems and lore, possibly already with the name of Scyld. This gains much in power and suggestiveness, if the same hero arrives and departs in a boat. The great heights to which Scyld climbed is also emphasized (explicitly) by the contrast thus made with his forlorn arrival. (c) Older and even more mysterious traditions may well still have been current concerning Danish origins: the legend of Ing who came and went back over the waves [see II. 305]. Our poet's Scyld has (as it were) replaced Ing. Sheaf and Barley were after all in origin only rustic legends of no great splendour. But their legend here catches echoes of heroic traditions of the North going back into a remote past, into what philologists would call Primitive Germanic times, and are at the same time touched with the martial glories of the House of the Shield. In this way the poet contrives to clothe the lords of the golden hall of Hart with a glory and mystery, more archaic and simple but hardly less magnificent than that which adorns the king of Camelot, Arthur son of Uther. This is our poet's way throughout, seen especially in the exaltation among the great heroes that he has achieved for the Bear- boy of the old fairy-tale, who becomes in his poem Beowulf last king of the Geatas. I give a final quotation from my father's lectures on this subject, where in discussing the concluding lines of the exordium he wrote of the suggestion - it is hardly more; the poet is not explicit, and the idea was probably not fully formed in his mind - that Scyld went back to some mysterious land whence he had come. He came out of the Unknown beyond the Great Sea, and returned into It: a miraculous intrusion into history, which nonetheless left real historical effects: a new Denmark, and the heirs of Scyld in Scedeland. Such must have been his feeling. In the last lines 'Men can give no certain account of the havens where that ship was unladed' we catch an echo of the 'mood' of pagan times in which ship-burial was practised. A mood in which the symbolism (what we should call the ritual) of a departure over the sea whose further shore was unknown; and an actual belief in a magical land or otherworld located 'over the sea', can hardly be distinguished - and for neither of these elements or motives is conscious symbolism, or real belief, a true description. It was a murnende mod, filled with doubt and darkness. There remains to notice an element in my father's legend of Sheaf which was not derived from the English traditions. This is found only in the prose version (p. 86), where in the account of the great peace in the Northern isles in the time of 'the Sheaf-lords' (so deep a peace that a gold ring lying on the highway would be left untouched) he wrote of 'the great mill of Sheaf', which 'was guarded still in the island sanctuary of the North.' In this he was drawing on (and transforming) the Scandinavian traditions concerned with Freyr, the god of fruitfulness, and King Frothi the Dane. I cite here the story told by the Icelander Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179 - 1241) in his work known as the Prose Edda, which is given to explain the meaning of the 'kenning' mjol Froda ('Frothi's meal') for 'gold'. Accord- ing to Snorri, Frothi was the grandson of Skjoldr (corresponding to Old English Scyld). Frothi succeeded to the kingdom after his father, in the time when Augustus Caesar imposed peace on the whole world; in that time Christ was born. But because Frothi was the mightiest of all kings in the Northlands the peace was named after him wherever the Danish tongue was spoken, and men call it the Peace of Frothi. No man injured another, even though he met face to face with the slayer of his father or of his brother, free or bound; and there was no thief or robber in those days, so that a gold ring lay long on Ialangrsheidi [in Jutland]. King Frothi went to a feast in Sweden at the court of a king named Fjolnir. There he bought two bondwomen called Fenia and Menia; they were big and strong. At that time there were in Denmark two millstones so huge that no man was strong enough to turn them; and the nature of these stones was such that whatever he who turned them asked for was ground out by the mill. This mill was called Grotti. King Frothi had the bondwomen led to the mill, and he bade them grind gold; and they did so, and at first they ground gold and peace and happiness for Frothi. Then he gave them rest or sleep no longer than the cuckoo was silent or a song could be sung. It is said that they sang the song which is called the Lay of Grotti, and this is its beginning: Now are come to the king's house The two foreknowing ones, Fenia and Menia; They are by Frothi, son of Frithleif, The mighty maidens, as bondslaves held. And before they ended their song they ground out a host against Frothi, so that on that very night the sea-king named Mysing came, and slew Frothi, and took much plunder; and then the Peace of Frothi was ended. Elsewhere it is said that while the Danes ascribed the peace to Frothi the Swedes ascribed it to Freyr; and there are close parallels between them. Freyr (which itself means 'the Lord') was called inn Frodi, which almost certainly means 'the Fruitful One'. The legend of the great peace, which in my father's work is ascribed to the time of Sheaf and his sons, goes back to very ancient origins in the worship of a divinity of fruitfulness in the great sanctuaries of the North: that of Freyr the Fruitful Lord at the great temple of Uppsala, and (according to an extremely plausible theory) that on the island of Zealand (Sjaelland). Discussion of this would lead too far and into evidences too complex for the purpose of this book, but it may be said at least that it seems beyond question that Heorot, hall of the Danish kings in Beowulf, stood where is now the village of Leire, about three miles from the sea on the north coast of Zealand. At Leire there are everywhere huge grave mounds; and according to an eleventh-century chronicler, Thietmar of Merseburg, there was held at Leire in every ninth year (as also at Uppsala) a great gathering, in which large numbers of men and animals were sacrificed. A strong case can be made for supposing that the famous sanctuary described by Tacitus in his Germania (written near the end of the first century A.D.) where the goddess Nerthus, or Mater Terra, was wor- shipped 'on an island in the ocean', was indeed on Zealand. When Nerthus was present in her sanctuary it was a season of rejoicing and peace, when 'every weapon is laid aside.'* In my father's legend of Sheaf these ancient echoes are used in new ways and with new bearings; and when Sheaf departed on his last journey his ship (as some have said) found the Straight Road into the vanished West. A brief but perceptive report on The Lost Road, dated 17 December 1937, was submitted by a person unknown invited by Allen and Unwin to read the text. It is to be remembered that the typescript that had been made extended only to the beginning of the fourth chapter (p. 73 note 14) - and also, of course, that at this time nothing concerning the history of Middle-earth, of the Valar and Valinor, had been published. The reader described it as 'immensely interesting as a revelation of the personal enthusiasms of a very unusual mind', with 'passages of beautiful descrip- tive prose'; but found it difficult to imagine this novel when completed receiving any sort of recognition except in academic circles.' Stanley (*In Norse mythology the name of the goddess Nerthus survives in that of the god Njorth, father of Freyr. Njorth was especially associated with ships and the sea; and in very early writing of my father's Xeorth briefly appears for Ulmo (II. 375, entry Neorth)) . Unwin, writing to my father on 20 December 1937, said gently that he had no doubt of its being a succes d'estime, but while he would 'doubtless want to publish it' when complete, he could not 'hold out any hope of commercial success as an inducement to you to give the finishing of it prior claim upon your time.' He wrote this on the day after my father had written to say that he had finished the first chapter of 'a new story about Hobbits'(see III. 366). With the entry at this time of the cardinal ideas of the Downfall of Numenor, the World Made Round, and the Straight Road, into the conception of 'Middle-earth', and the thought of a 'time-travel' story in which the very significant figure of the Anglo-Saxon AElfwine would be both 'extended' into the future, into the twentieth century, and 'extended' also into a many-layered past, my father was envisaging a massive and explicit linking of his own legends with those of many other places and times: all concerned with the stories and the dreams of peoples who dwelt by the coasts of the great Western Sea. All this was set aside during the period of the writing of The Lord of the Rings, but not abandoned: for in 1945, before indeed The Lord of the Rings was completed, he returned to these themes in the unfinished Notion Club Papers. Such as he sketched out for these parts of The Last Road remain, as it seems to me, among the most interesting and instructive of his unfinished works. Note on the poem 'The Nameless Land' and its later form. The Nameless Land* is written in the form of the mediaeval poem Pearl, with both rhyme and alliteration and partial repetition of the last line of one stanza in the beginning of the next. I give it here in the form in which it was published; for Tir-nan-Og the typescripts have Tir na nOg. THE NAMELESS LAND. There lingering lights do golden lie On grass more green than in gardens here, On trees more tall that touch the sky With silver leaves a-swinging clear: By magic dewed they may not die Where fades nor falls the endless year, Where ageless afternoon goes by O'er mead and mound and silent mere. (* The Nameless Land was published in Realities: an Anthology of Verse, edited by G. S. Tancred (Leeds, at the Swan Press; London, Gay and Hancock Ltd.; 1927). A note on one of the typescripts states that it was written in May 1924 in the house at Darnley Road, Leeds (Carpenter, Biography, p. 107), and was 'inspired by reading Pearl for examination purposes'). There draws no dusk of evening near, Where voices move in veiled choir, Or shrill in sudden singing sheer. And the woods are filled with wandering fire. The wandering fires the woodland fill, In glades for ever green they glow, In dells that immortal dews distill And fragrance of all flowers that grow. There melodies of music spill, And falling fountains plash and flow, And a water white leaps down the hill To seek the sea no sail doth know. Its voices fill the valleys low, Where breathing keen on bent and briar The winds beyond the world's edge blow And wake to flame a wandering fire. That wandering fire hath tongues of flame Whose quenchless colours quiver clear On leaf and land without a name No heart may hope to anchor near. A dreamless dark no stars proclaim, A moonless night its marches drear, A water wide no feet may tame, A sea with shores encircled sheer. A thousand leagues it lies from here, And the foam doth flower upon the sea 'Neath cliffs of crystal carven clear On shining beaches blowing free. There blowing free unbraided hair Is meshed with light of moon and sun, And tangled with those tresses fair A gold and silver sheen is spun. There feet do beat and white and bare Do lissom limbs in dances run, Their robes the wind, their raiment air - Such loveliness to look upon Nor Bran nor Brendan ever won, Who foam beyond the furthest sea Did dare, and dipped behind the sun On winds unearthly wafted free. Than Tir-nan-Og more fair and free, Than Paradise more faint and far, O! shore beyond the Shadowy Sea, O! land forlorn where lost things are, O! mountains where no man may be! The solemn surges on the bar Beyond the world's edge waft to me; I dream I see a wayward star, Than beacon towers in Gondobar More fair, where faint upon the sky On hills imagineless and far The lights of longing flare and die. My father turned again later to The Nameless Land, and altered the title first to AElfwine's Song calling upon Earendel and then to The Song of AElfwine (on seeing the uprising of Earendel). There are many texts, both manuscript and typescript, of The Song of AElfwine, forming a continuous development. That development, I feel certain, did not all belong to the same time, but it seems impossible to relate the different stages to anything external to the poem. On the third text my father wrote afterwards 'Intermediate Version', and I give this here; my guess is - but it is no more than a guess - that it belongs to about the time of The Last Road. Following it are two further texts which each change a few lines, and then a final version with more substantial changes (including the loss of a whole stanza) and an extremely interesting prose note on AElfwine's voyage. This is certainly relatively late: probably from the years after The Lord of the Rings, though it might be associated with the Notion Club Papers of 1945 - with the fifth line of the last verse (a line that entered only in this last version) 'The white birds wheel; there flowers the Tree!' ] compare the lines in the poem Imram (see p. 82), of the Tree full of birds that Saint Brendan saw: The Tree then shook, and flying free from its limbs the leaves in air as white birds rose in wheeling flight, and the lifting boughs were bare. Of course the imrama of Brendan and AElfwine are in any case closely associated. - There follow the texts of the 'intermediate' and final versions. THE SONG OF AELFWINE. (on seeing the uprising of Earendel) There lingering lights still golden lie on grass more green than in gardens here, On trees more tall that touch the sky with swinging leaves of silver clear. While world endures they will not die, nor fade nor fall their timeless year, As morn unmeasured passes by o'er mead and mound and shining mere. When endless eve undimmed is near, o'er harp and chant in hidden choir A sudden voice upsoaring sheer in the wood awakes the Wandering Fire. The Wandering Fire the woodland fills: in glades for ever green it glows, In dells where immortal dew distils the Flower that in secret fragrance grows. There murmuring the music spills, as falling fountain plashing flows, And water white leaps down the hills to seek the Sea that no sail knows. Through gleaming vales it singing goes, where breathing keen on bent and briar The wind beyond the world's end blows to living flame the Wandering Fire. The Wandering Fire with tongues of flame with light there kindles quick and clear The land of long-forgotten name: no man may ever anchor near; No steering star his hope may aim, for nether Night its marches drear, And waters wide no sail may tame, with shores encircled dark and sheer. Uncounted leagues it lies from here, and foam there flowers upon the Sea By cliffs of crystal carven clear on shining beaches blowing free. There blowing free unbraided hair is meshed with beams of Moon and Sun, And twined within those tresses fair a gold and silver sheen is spun, As fleet and white the feet go bare, and lissom limbs in dances run, Shimmering in the shining air: such loveliness to look upon No mortal man hath ever won, though foam upon the furthest sea He dared, or sought behind the Sun for winds unearthly flowing free. O! Shore beyond the Shadowy Sea! O! Land where still the Edhil are! O! Haven where my heart would be! the waves that beat upon thy bar For ever echo endlessly, when longing leads my thought afar, And rising west of West I see beyond the world the wayward Star, Than beacons bright in Gondobar more clear and keen, more fair and high: O! Star that shadow may not mar, nor ever darkness doom to die! In the final version of the poem that now follows the prose note concerning AElfwine's voyage is linked by an asterisk to the name AElfwine in the title. THE SONG OF AELFWINE. on seeing the uprising of Earendil Eressea! Eressea! There elven-lights still gleaming lie On grass more green than in gardens here, On trees more tall that touch the sky With swinging leaves of silver clear. While world endures they will not die, Nor fade nor fall their timeless year, As morn unmeasured passes by O'er mead and mount and shining mere. When endless eve undimmed is near, O'er harp and chant in hidden choir A sudden voice up-soaring sheer In the wood awakes the wandering fire. With wandering fire the woodlands fill: In glades for ever green it glows; In a dell there dreaming niphredil As star awakened gleaming grows, And ever-murmuring musics spill, For there the fount immortal flows: Its water white leaps down the hill, By silver stairs it singing goes To the field of the unfading rose, Where breathing on the glowing briar The wind beyond the world's end blows To living flame the wandering fire. The wandering fire with quickening flame Of living light illumines clear That land unknown by mortal name Beyond the shadow dark and drear And waters wild no ship may tame. No man may ever anchor near, To haven none his hope may aim Through starless night his way to steer. Uncounted leagues it lies from here: In wind on beaches blowing free Neath cliffs of carven crystal sheer The foam there flowers upon the Sea. O Shore beyond the Shadowy Sea! O Land where still the Edhil are! O Haven where my heart would be! The waves still beat upon thy bar, The white birds wheel; there flowers the Tree! Again I glimpse them long afar When rising west of West I see Beyond the world the wayward Star, Than beacons bright in Gondobar More fair and keen, more clear and high. 0 Star that shadow may not mar, Nor ever darkness doom to die. AElfwine (Elf-friend) was a seaman of England of old who, being driven out to sea from the coast of Erin [ancient name of Ireland], passed into the deep waters of the West, and according to legend by some strange chance or grace found the 'straight road' of the Elvenfolk and came at last to the Isle of Eressea in Elvenhome. Or maybe, as some say, alone in the waters, hungry and athirst, he fell into a trance and was granted a vision of that isle as it once had been, ere a West- wind arose and drove him back to Middle-earth. Of no other man is it reported that he ever beheld Eressea the fair. AElfwine was never again able to rest for long on land, and sailed the western seas until his death. Some say that his ship was wrecked upon the west shores of Erin and there his body lies; others say that at the end of his life he went forth alone into the deeps again and never returned. It is reported that before he set out on his last voyage he spoke these verses: Fela bid on Westwegum werum uncudra wundra and wihta, wlitescyne lond, eardgeard Ylfa and Esa bliss. Lyt aenig wat hwylc his longad sy pam pe eftsides yldu getwaefed. 'Many things there be in the West-regions unknown to Men, many wonders and many creatures: a land lovely to behold, the homeland of the Elves and the bliss of the Valar. Little doth any man understand what the yearning may be of one whom old age cutteth off from returning thither.' Here reappears the idea seen at the end of the outline for the AElfwine story in The Lost Road (p. 80), that after seeing a vision of Eressea he was blown back again by a wind from the West. At the time when the outline was written the story that AElfwine actually came to Tol-eressea and was there told 'the Lost Tales' was also present (p. 78), and in the same way it seems from the present passage that there were the two stories. The idea that AElfwine never in fact reached the Lonely Isle is found in a version of the old tale of AElwine of England, where he did not leap overboard but returned east with his companions (II. 332 - 3). The verses that he spoke before his last voyage are those that Alboin Errol spoke and translated to his father in The Lost Road (p. 44), and which were used also in the title-pages to the Quenta Silmarillion (P 203). The retention of the name Gondobar right through from The Name- less Land is notable. It is found in the late version of the poem The Happy Mariners, which my father afterwards dated '1940?' (II. 274 - 5): 'O happy mariners upon a journey far, / beyond the grey islands and past Gondobar'. Otherwise Condobar 'City of Stone' is one of the Seven Names of Gondolin (II. 158, 172; III. 145 - 6).