Tolkien's Overture: Concerning the Music of the Ainur

By John M Carswell

How well do you know Middle-earth?

In Tolkien’s Overture, writer and podcaster John Carswell continues his exploration of Tolkien’s lesser known works by turning his attention to “Ainulindalë”, also known as “The Music of the Ainur.”

Originally published as part of

• Language: English
• Publisher: True Myths Press
• Release date: Jul 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780692152171

John M Carswell

John Carswell is the co-host of The Tolkien Road podcast (TolkienRoad.com) and the author of Tolkien's Requiem - Concerning Beren and Lúthien. He writes about Tolkien and other matters at TrueMyths.org.

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Introduction

The one question particularly intriguing to the searching mind of the philosopher when he reflects on the phenomenon of music is this: What indeed do we perceive when we listen to music? We obviously perceive more and something other than the specific sounds produced by the bow on the strings of a violin, by the air blown into a flute, or by the finger hitting the keys of a piano. . . . What, then, do we essentially perceive when we listen to music . . . ?

- Josef Pieper, Thoughts About Music

This book is in no way intended to be a Cliff's Notes version of Ainulindalë. Instead, I conceived it as a means to more deeply contemplate and appreciate Middle-earth’s creation myth. Probably like most of you, I fell deeply in love with Tolkien’s fantastical world because of hobbits and their adventures. As I delved more deeply into it, I discovered a vastness and verisimilitude that astounded me. Here is an imaginary world less like a stage prop and more like reality itself! And it all begins, beyond the Deeps of Time, in the Halls of Ilúvatar, with the Music of the Ainur.

When I began the writing of this book, it was July 13th, 2015.¹ The New Horizons spacecraft was less than 24 hours away from its closest approach to the dwarf-planet [sic] Pluto. We were in the process of capturing imagery from the most distant planetary body in our solar system. It was exciting to see this happening, for it had taken over 9 years for the spacecraft to reach this locale, travelling at a velocity in the neighborhood of 36,000 miles per hour, across a distance somewhere between 4 and 5 billion miles. To put that in perspective, it takes light 5.3 hours to reach Earth from Pluto.

And even so, in the grand scheme of things, to travel from the Earth to Pluto was basically a walk down the street. It was a baby-step of baby-steps. We live in an unfathomably vast universe. We don't really know where the universe ends, but the current science indicates that it's at least 14 billion LIGHT-YEARS in diameter. That's basically 23 TRILLION trips from Earth to Pluto.²

All of this vastness can of course make us feel very small, as if the size of the ocean or of Mt. Rainier weren't enough. Simultaneously, it has a tendency to fill us with wonder. If you walk out on a clear night and look up at the sky for any period of time longer than a few seconds, then you are likely to be struck by the sheer beauty and magnitude of the cosmos. Though mankind has been cataloging the stars for millennia, the night sky seems inexhaustible. Though our minds would like to comprehend it, they are truly incapable of doing so. Humorously, the British writer Douglas Adams dealt with the inability of our minds to comprehend the magnitude of the universe via the Total Perspective Vortex, a device which allowed a person to view the size of the universe in one glimpse, thus driving them insane. For me at least, and I think for many others, we have to leave our minds behind at some point and simply surrender to the grandness and beauty of it all. We are small. The universe is vast beyond our imaginations.

And there’s that word: imagination. For some reason, of all creatures, we care to think about these things, and though the vastness of the cosmos defies our ability to fully comprehend it in our minds, we are drawn to other ways of seeking to express it. Indeed, almost every ancient civilization had a creation story of some sort.

Tolkien was of the Christian, and specifically Catholic, tradition. His sacred library of books would have included two works commencing with the words In the beginning...: Genesis and St. John's Gospel. In Genesis, the first words of the Bible, we find the story of Creation, and it unfolds as a poem, perhaps even a song. Yet the Gospel of John hits reset. Yes, God speaks, but in this case, God is actually the Word spoken (Logos in the original Greek), and not just God, but specifically the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. Behind everything there is a reason, a harmony, a beautiful oneness to which all diversity tends.

And it would be hard not to see Tolkien’s creation myth building on this to a certain degree. For this Word is no mere word, but the way by which the rational mind reaches to the cosmos, to the origin and the consummation of all things, to matters beyond the great beyond. These are the words of poetry, and poetry, in the end, reaches to music.

Music is expression that defies language, at least spoken or written language. It is in the final assessment a sort of magic all itself, a way of hinting at new worlds and of new feelings and possibilities. Ever tried watching Star Wars without John Williams' score? To know its absence from the visuals is immediately to sense the utter power of music to create a reality, a reality we can feel in the very fiber of our being. It is also to know the spiritual power of music. Even now, were I to listen to Howard Shore’s score for the Ride of the Rohirrim, I would feel as though I were there, and my heart would swell with love for the doomed and courageous heroes of the Mark.

Tolkien was first and foremost a philologist, a term applicable to those who study language but more literally meaning lover of language. To him, language was inherently musical. It is perhaps this idea that he was seeking to express in conceiving of Middle-earth as the product of a divine music. And this is not disconnected from the rest of the history of Middle-earth by any means! Indeed, music has a preternatural power in Tolkien's work: one need only consider the battle of song waged between Sauron and Finrod Felagund, or the way characters such as Lúthien and Tom Bombadil are able to use song in ways that transcend and command natural elements. Indeed, once again it appears that music is the actual material Middle-earth is made of!

Furthermore, it is worth noting at the outset that the end to which all of the history of Middle-earth apparently tended was a second and final Music of the Ainur, as is referenced in the last sentence of Quenta Silmarillion's first chapter. Middle-earth did not simply begin in music, but it is aimed at a greater and final music that will apparently last for all of eternity. This Middle-earth eschatology is expounded upon early in Ainulindalë, when we learn that:

Then the themes of Ilúvatar shall be played aright, and take Being in the moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand fully his intent in their part, and each shall know the comprehension of each, and Ilúvatar shall give to their thoughts the secret fire, being well pleased. (Silmarillion 15-16)

Having said this, it does not seem too much of a stretch to ask: can anyone really understand Middle-earth as Tolkien intended if he does not understand Ainulindalë? Indeed, this is the task before us in this book, to understand the overture which begins the begin and foreshadows the end, the drama of the great symphony that is Middle-earth: from Ents to Eagles, from mountains to mithril, all things have their origin in the Music of the Ainur.

My method in constructing this book is relatively simple: the first 3 chapters concern a close reading of Ainulindalë directly. The rest of the book (other than the appendices) operates from the thesis that, because Tolkien saw fit to bookend his imaginary universe with a metaphysic and cosmogony of music, then it is worth exploring what role music plays in the rest of the stories of Middle-earth. Therefore, I will undertake in the final chapters a contemplation of musical references in The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings.

One further note: there is obviously no actual music in the texts under consideration. In most cases we will be dealing with descriptions of music, or poetry. As regards the poetry of these works, I assume lines of verse were meant by Tolkien to represent part of a song, unless otherwise indicated.

Enough of mere words though - let us set out into this vastness beyond vastness, into this song of Songs, into a consoling contemplation of the cosmos. Or, as Tolkien might say, let us dive headlong into the Deeps of Time, for an incredible journey amidst the innumerable stars.

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¹ As I complete it, it is June of 2018. Took me just a little longer than expected! XD

² Estimates will vary of course. This one comes from this source: https://www.space.com/24073-how-big-is-the-universe.html

Part I

The Music of the Ainur

Ainulindalë is the story of the creation of Middle-earth. It tells of a great symphony before the existence of anything else by great and powerful beings, and how their music led to the world that would come to be the home of Elves, Men, Hobbits, and Dwarves.

In the first part of this book, I will delve deeply into this rather brief creation myth and explore what I discern to be the three main parts of it: the Music, the Vision, and the Reality.

Chapter 1: The Music

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar…

The creation of Middle-earth begins with Eru, the One, in a mysterious locale called The Halls of Ilúvatar, beyond which