#and my copy of the silm was in a box. which made research difficult. and then I forgot about it

[silver-grasp]

Narrative Power in Arda

An embarrassing number of months ago, I alluded to narrative as an in-universe force within the Silmarillion in my tags on a post I have since lost, which I feel merits further elaboration. The short version is that crafting a story carries meaningful weight and power in Arda, which is not much of a reach considering that 1) telling a story in a certain way has power even in the real world, and 2) music is already well-established as an important medium and means of magic in Middle Earth. I think it is relevant to consider this aspect when discussing the nature and weight of words in the Silmarillion, whether it be curses, dooms, oaths, or anything else.

To begin with, it is difficult to tease apart what I will call in-universe narrative from narrative in the sense that a guy called Tolkien wrote this whole story down, on purpose, with various story arcs that come to various narratively satisfying conclusions. The best illustrative example of in-universe narrative, thus, is Finrod’s duel in song against Sauron, because Tolkien could have had the song battle work however he wanted, but he chose to make it about storytelling. We joke about Finrod and Sauron’s rap battle, but their contest really is a battle of narratives – particularly cultural narratives. To quote:

Then sudden Felagund there swaying Sang in answer a song of staying, Resisting, battling against power, Of secrets kept, strength like a tower, And trust unbroken, freedom, escape; […] And all the magic and might be brought Of Elvenesse into his words. […] The sighing of the sea beyond, Beyond the western world on sand, On sand of pearls in Elvenland.

This is arguably the story of the Noldor, as told by Finrod – all the beauty and power of Aman, but brought by the Noldor to Middle Earth in their flight to escape the control of the Valar and avenge their king against Morgoth’s evil. This is his choice of story to wield against Sauron, and it makes sense. It invokes the Noldor’s heroism against Morgoth in maintaining the long siege, as well as their rejection of all the higher powers and his own faithfulness to his oath to Barahir that led him to this point. It’s a good story, but Sauron shatters it with a single invocation, because this narrative Finrod spins of the Flight of the Noldor cannot accommodate the atrocity that was the Kinslaying at Alqualonde.

The outcome of the song battle is not decided based on raw power, or skill in crafting magic or spells, or even singing ability. It is won on the merits of narrative: Finrod’s story doesn’t work; he cannot narratively reconcile the reality of the Kinslaying with “trust unbroken, freedom, escape,” and thus Sauron has the victory (1). Thus, we can conclude that “does the story work” is a legitimate part of how magic functions in Middle Earth.

This should not come as a surprise; Middle Earth (and the world itself) were created/predicted by the Music of the Ainur, which is itself a narrative work of music. It, arguably, puts the story in history (2). The narrative of the Ainulindale, moreover, is disrupted by Morgoth in much the same way Sauron disrupts Finrod’s narrative in their contest. But whereas Finrod’s story collapses under the contradictions introduced by Sauron, Eru incorporates Morgoth’s discord into the Music to create a new, greater theme than the one before. This is not an accident, and it shows that Eru, as God and Creator (read: Author), understands narrative better than Morgoth does: any good story has conflict of one sort or another. That’s what makes them stories, rather than a pleasant but boring account of a series of pleasant but boring events.

This is to say, Tolkien makes the necessity of having a plot arc into part of his theological worldbuilding. There is, frankly, a lot you could say about that, but I am not going to, because it is somewhat off-topic from the point I’m trying to make and also I really don’t know where to begin.

Additionally, while Finrod’s own narrative fails, the overall narrative of Middle Earth picks up where he left off and turns his defeat into a fourth-act crisis point, the abyss which makes way for Luthien’s subsequent victory over both Sauron and Morgoth and triumphant retrieval of the Silmaril. Finrod may not have known how to turn Sauron’s narrative disruption to his own ends, but Eru does.

Returning to the Doom of the Noldor, while Manwe is said to be the closest of the Valar to Eru in thought, I would argue that Namo, as the Vala of fate, is the closest of the God-as-Author aspect of Eru. His domain, fate, is closely linked with the Music. I said earlier that Middle Earth was created/predicted by the Music, and that blurriness between creation and prophecy is important for understanding the nature of Fate in Tolkien’s work - there is a careful tightrope walked between free will and determinism (3). I argue that the Music additionally suggests that fate in Arda is really Narrative at work.

So where does that leave, for instance, the Doom of the Noldor? Is it curse or prophecy? Punishment meted out by the gods or natural consequences of an unprecedented violent attack? Framing it in these binaries is reductive no matter which side you come down on. The Doom is neither a curse nor a prophecy: it is a narrative.

The soon-to-be Exiles, led by Feanor, kick off their narrative in maybe the worst way possible (murder). This is, objectively, a very bad inciting incident – stories that start with murder don’t tend to turn out well for the people doing the murdering. Within the Music, and the fabric of Arda’s fate, the Noldor have narrowed their narrative options significantly. “Slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be,” for have they not already slain their own kin? But it is very difficult to argue for the Doom as purely prophetic. The text itself indicates in multiple places the judgment or wrath of the Valar as something laid upon the house of Feanor and all who follow them, not simply natural consequences. There is a tangible weight to the Doom, and a sense after the War of Wrath that it is something that can be lifted.

Mandos says, you have chosen your story to be a tragedy by opening with a tragedy. But when this is spoken by Narrative himself, it takes on a weight greater than that of a mere prediction. The Doom defines the genre of the story that is to follow: Tears unnumbered ye shall shed. And they did.

The story, of course, is never truly over. But I’ll leave eucatastrophe for another day.

Footnotes: (1) As a side note, I am forever thinking about arrogantemu’s fic “Beyond the Western World,” in which Finrod says “I’d staked everything on an innocence I didn’t have.” Credit where credit is due for influencing my thinking on this subject.

(2) Tolkien as a linguist would undoubtedly be aware that the words come from the same root, and that other modern languages have not in fact separated the meanings of “work of fiction” and “account of real events” into separate words.

(3) To write a proper meta on this subject I would have to dig much deeper into other sources, but from my understanding fate in Tolkien’s works works very similarly to the Anglo-Saxon concept of wyrd – there’s a very interesting line in Beowulf, I believe, about how “for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has not already marked” (paraphrased). I highly recommend reading more about it for a better understanding of fate in Middle Earth.