Silmarillion - Chapter 20 - Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad

[Estelyn Telcontar]

This chapter begins with what seems to be a postscript to the previous one – a last account of Beren and Lúthien. What purpose does that serve in the context of what follows?

A large part of the account is devoted to the ensuing battle(s). I know there have been discussion of various battles and the tactics used and hope the experts will have something to say here! One thing that does show up several times is the problem of impatience. Had the Elves and Men not jumped the gun, so to speak, their chances would have been better. It is interesting to see how the success goes back and forth from one side to another.

In the end, we read, it is the treason of Men that decides the outcome. That is a bitter tragedy that has repercussions long afterwards.

There is one brief scene that I discovered when researching on music: the funeral dirge of the Dwarves. It must have been chilling to hear – so much so that even their enemies didn’t hinder them.

At the end of the chapter we have hints and forebodings of future events – especially the Fall of Gondolin, and Morgoth’s curse over Húrin and his family.

What part of this battle makes the deepest impression on you? How well do the various combatants play their part? Does the outcome feel discouraging, like part of the “Long Defeat”, to use Tolkien’s words?

[Galadriel55]

This battle is indeed like a part of the long defeat. Trying to get up only to fall lower again.

One of the reasons for the unsccess of the Union of Maedhros is explained in the Doom of Mandos. The different Kings and Lords held grudges against each other, didn't trust one another, and the result is that there was no help from them. Thingol was angry because the Feanorians demanded the Silmaril. Orodreth - because of Curufin and Caranthir. And if help came, they would fight under one banner but not under another.

And overall, the Union lacked unity. Signals don't come when they are "supposed" to, armies marching without signals, other armies staying when they are "supposed" to attack. And the treachery of Men on top of all.

It seems like the "loyal" Men took it upon themselves to do double in that battle, to repay for the treachery of others.

I often wondered that Gondolin did not realy achieve its purpose. It was meant to be a secret deadly weapon to Morgoth. But when Turgon came out, he gave some hopes, but didn't give victory. And later on, he decided not to go out at all, and the whole kingdom was destroyed. This was because he did not heed Ulmo's warning.

Didn't this make everything futile? The secrecy, training the warriors, etc? Gondolin bothered Morgoth only in his thoughts. In reality, it didn't really make a difference.

I also found it interesting that Morgoth commanded his orcs to build the Haudh-en-Ndengin. If I were him, I'd leave all the bodies to rot where they were, not bother toiling to get all the bodies in one spot. Not that it would matter to Moroth if others are toiling at his whim, but there seems to be no real purpose behind it, unless it was to build a monument-like hill in honour of his victory.

But even that failed, because grass grew on the hill. Instead of representing Death, it was an oasis in the desert of Anfauglith. But this part was against Morgoth's will. Wouldn't it have given hope to the surviving Elves and Men?

Originally Posted by Esty

There is one brief scene that I discovered when researching on music: the funeral dirge of the Dwarves. It must have been chilling to hear – so much so that even their enemies didn’t hinder them.

Too true. The orcs are quite difficult to "covince" not to touch a funeral procession.

But this scene shows how much the Dwarves loved their leader.

Originally Posted by Esty

This chapter begins with what seems to be a postscript to the previous one – a last account of Beren and Lúthien. What purpose does that serve in the context of what follows?

Possibly to build contrast between the two. And that echoes the first words of the previous chapter, how among the sorrow there are still tales of joy. Except that in the previous, the emphasis was on joy, and in this one, it is on the sorrow and ruin.

[Formendacil]

The Nirnaeth has always struck me, thinking about Tolkien and Middle-earth, as the centrepiece moment of the First Age. It has Elven might at its finest: not even the successful battles earlier in the First Age strike me as so indicative of Elven might as the Union of Maedhros. The full forces of the Noldor of Hithlum, Himring, and even Gondolin (with a noble band from Nargothrond) unite together with the the finest generation of the Edain, and even a noble contingent of Dwarves in a foreshadowing of Gimli's part in the War of the Ring. Part of this sense of the full grandeur of First Age Elvendom comes from the detail lavished on the alliance, and also from its position as the last real chance the Elves had of winning the war.

At the same time, however, the Nirnaeth also contains all the fruits and seeds of the Silmarillion's tragedy. Thingol will not march with the Sons of Fëanor, and the seeds of division sown both in the Oath and in Lúthien and Beren's quest are apparent.. Uldor's men betray Maedhros. Morgoth's trickery is evident, even beyond the seduction of the Easterlings, in his calculated use of Gwindor's brother.

Most importantly, though, the Nirnaeth has moments of tragic grandeur that haunt my imagination. The fell, but doomed, premature attack of the Nargothrondrim. The loyalty of the sons of Bór in the face of the general Easterling treachery. The final meeting of the brothers Fingon and Turgon in the midst of battle, and their bittersweet farewell (and Turgon's to Huor) in its midst. And, of course, the grim, determined last stand of the House of Hador guarding Turgon's retreat. The reality of all these heroic, but hopeless, incidents is (for me) highlighted by the tale of Túrin immediately following.

Speaking of Fingon and Turgon's meeting, the thought just occurred to me to consider what these two brothers spoke of. Did Fingon and Turgon share notes on their father's last hours? Turgon knew, thanks to the Eagles, of his battle with Morgoth and his final resting place, but did he know of their father's valiant despair as the Bragollach swept across the plains? Fingon presumably knew nothing of Aredhel's fate--and even more so, one presumes, of Eöl and her son Maeglin. Was Maeglin standing near enough that Turgon could introduce their nephew to his elder uncle?

This is, for all its bitter ending, one of my favourite parts of the Silmarillion, and it rarely ceases to affect me when I read it. I've noticed, however, that apart from Tolkien having written a version with a different emphasis for the Narn i Chîn Húrin, that it doesn't affect me in the same way when I read The Children of Húrin as when I read The Silmarillion. I think the difference for me lies less in the fact that the two have different narrative content and more in the fact that I find myself hoping against hope in reading the Silmarillion that the Elves will be successful, whereas I know in The Children of Húrin that this defeat is a necessary precondition for all the sorrows of Túrin that follow. This probably says something about Tolkien's ability to project the hope of the Elves even in the middle of their doom, and possibly something less flattering about me.

[Pitchwife]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

I often wondered that Gondolin did not realy achieve its purpose. It was meant to be a secret deadly weapon to Morgoth. But when Turgon came out, he gave some hopes, but didn't give victory. And later on, he decided not to go out at all, and the whole kingdom was destroyed. This was because he did not heed Ulmo's warning.

Didn't this make everything futile? The secrecy, training the warriors, etc? Gondolin bothered Morgoth only in his thoughts. In reality, it didn't really make a difference.

No, it did. Remember Huor's words to Turgon when he urged the king to retreat, that from the two of them should rise a new star?
That's the whole and only purpose of Gondolin in the long run (and never mind that Turgon had different ideas) - a place which would stand long enough for Eärendil to be born there and grow. Ulmo knew all along that the Noldor had no chance against Morgoth; the only hope they ever had was a messenger who would finally reach the Valar and move them to intervene.

But still:

Originally Posted by Formy

I think the difference for me lies less in the fact that the two have different narrative content and more in the fact that I find myself hoping against hope in reading the Silmarillion that the Elves will be successful, whereas I know in The Children of Húrin that this defeat is a necessary precondition for all the sorrows of Túrin that follow. This probably says something about Tolkien's ability to project the hope of the Elves even in the middle of their doom, and possibly something less flattering about me.

Me too, everytime I read Fingon's cry before the battle:

"Utúlië 'n aure! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatari, utúlië 'n aure! The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!"

This is one of the most heart-wrenchingly moving moments Tolkien ever wrote, along with

"Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last."

- and doesn't it make you sooo wish for it to come true? But where in LotR the arrival of the Rohirrim is the point where the battle starts to turn, in the Nirnaeth it all comes to ruin.

But the most poignant passage in this chapter (at least for me) is the one at the beginning of the battle, when Gelmir, taken captive in the Bragollach, is chopped to bits within sight of his brother Gwindor (yes, that Gwindor) in order to provoke a premature attack; and Gwindor, disregarding all tactical considerations (and who can blame him?), charges, and Fingon follows suit, and they march over Anfauglith, scattering Morgoth's troops, right up to the walls of Angband (Go!, I cheer them, while rereading it); and Gwindor and his troop, fighting foremost, break through the gates and reach the stairs inside and hammer on Morgoth's doors (Go Gwindor go!), and Morgoth himself trembles hearing them, and -

- and of course they're trapped and slain to the last man, except Gwindor. He's taken alive.

You need to let that sink in. This is a fate you wouldn't wish on your worst foe, if you have one. Being slain in the Nirnaeth would have been a mercy. And when he escapes after long years of slavery and torture, a bent and fearful shadow of his former shape and mood, does he find peace and healing? No, he has to run into Túrin, and we all know the rest of the story.

Yes, I have a very weak spot in my heart for this guy. Somehow his life story is all the tragedy of the Silmarillion in nuce.

[Galadriel55]

Originally Posted by Pitchwife

But the most poignant passage in this chapter (at least for me) is the one at the beginning of the battle, when Gelmir, taken captive in the Bragollach, is chopped to bits within sight of his brother Gwindor (yes, that Gwindor) in order to provoke a premature attack; and Gwindor, disregarding all tactical considerations (and who can blame him?), charges, and Fingon follows suit, and they march over Anfauglith, scattering Morgoth's troops, right up to the walls of Angband (Go!, I cheer them, while rereading it); and Gwindor and his troop, fighting foremost, break through the gates and reach the stairs inside and hammer on Morgoth's doors (Go Gwindor go!), and Morgoth himself trembles hearing them, and -

- and of course they're trapped and slain to the last man, except Gwindor. He's taken alive.

You need to let that sink in. This is a fate you wouldn't wish on your worst foe, if you have one. Being slain in the Nirnaeth would have been a mercy. And when he escapes after long years of slavery and torture, a bent and fearful shadow of his former shape and mood, does he find peace and healing? No, he has to run into Túrin, and we all know the rest of the story.

You said it. I couldn't agree more. Fingon's cry is dead to me for other reasons. It seems like it was the last hopeful cry until Eonwe greeted Earendil. Everything else said after that, no matter what is said, was said with some strain or burden. The Nirnaeth was truly a turning point to the worst; if before the "good guys" were able to somehow "get up" after their losses, after this battle everything came tumbling down, Nargothrond, Doriath, Gondolin, one after the other. And then the kinslaying at the Havens.

I once thought that Uldor and the other traitors weren't punished enough for their treachery. At first it seems they weren't: Uldor is killed, but it just doesn't seem to do proper justice to them. It just doesn't work. And then I realised that Morgoth himself gave them the punishment - he betrayed them in his turn, forbidding them from settling in the south. "One thief deserves another"?

I find it a bit unfair that the sons of Feanor suffer the least of all in that battle. Everywhere armies are demolished, and the kings / lords slain. Turgon is an exception, but he was a special case from the start. And the seven jerks survive! (Well, I take that back, some of them weren't jerks on occasion). On the other hand, though, they carry the weight of the Oath on top of the usual troubles, and they weren't exacty spared by fate either. It seems like they were "forbidden" to be killed by Morgoth (in a way this reminds me of the curse of Hurin). Most of them were killed in the kinslayings, and Maedhros jumped into the chasm. And Maglor was beaten from inside when he gave up on the last Silmaril.

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Galadriel55

I find it a bit unfair that the sons of Feanor suffer the least of all in that battle. Everywhere armies are demolished, and the kings / lords slain. Turgon is an exception, but he was a special case from the start. And the seven jerks survive! (Well, I take that back, some of them weren't jerks on occasion). On the other hand, though, they carry the weight of the Oath on top of the usual troubles, and they weren't exacty spared by fate either. It seems like they were "forbidden" to be killed by Morgoth (in a way this reminds me of the curse of Hurin). Most of them were killed in the kinslayings, and Maedhros jumped into the chasm. And Maglor was beaten from inside when he gave up on the last Silmaril.

It doesn't bother me that they didn't find death in the battle, as I don't think that have been undesirable to them. It seems to me that they probably on the whole would have preferred that to what befell them after the Nirnaeth.

The realm of Fingon was no more, and the sons Fëanor wandered as leaves before the wind. Their arms were scattered, and their league broken; and they took to a wild and woodland life beneath the feet Ered Lindon, mingling with the Green-elves of Ossiriand, bereft of their power and glory of old.

Think of the humility the likes of Celegorm would have had thrust upon him; gone from ruling his own house and people to skulking in the woods.

One of the most heart-wrenching pictures for me is that of Fingon's beautiful blue and silver banner stomped into the ground, turning red with his blood.

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

It doesn't bother me that they didn't find death in the battle, as I don't think that have been undesirable to them. It seems to me that they probably on the whole would have preferred that to what befell them after the Nirnaeth.

One might also say that the survival of the Sons of Fëanor was part of the general tragedy of the battle. Whether by design of Morgoth or because of their own fate brought on by the Oath, their survival of the Nirnaeth ensures that they will live to wreak havoc on Doriath and the Havens at Sirion. In fact, one might almost say that if the Sons of Fëanor had died in the Nirnaeth, that the Battle would have been far more successful, because Morgoth would have lost one of his biggest potential "assets"--namely the continued working of their Oath under the conditions of the Doom of the Noldor.

(Which is not to say that the Doom of the Noldor would have not been operative without the Oath of Fëanor, but it is clear that the Doom is at its most tragically effective whenever the Fëanorians show up.)

[Aiwendil]

I have to offer my apologies to everyone for consistently failing to keep these discussions going, and my thanks to Estelyn for reviving them.

I thought that I might as well post the (incomplete) notes I had put together for the remaining chapters - particularly, just for completeness, the lists I had been making of 'additional readings' from HoMe with material relating to each chapter. So here's what I had for chapter 20:

A whole chapter is devoted to the fifth great battle of Beleriand, an event that plays a critical role in the all the various strands of the history of the First Age. As with ‘The Ruin of Beleriand’, this chapter leaves a number of kingdoms defeated and characters slain, and when all is over, the balance of power has shifted drastically; Morgoth now rules most of Beleriand.

The chapter begins with a paragraph that really seems like the conclusion of the previous story, ‘Beren and Luthien’, before passing on to relate the Union of Maedhros. I find it interesting that it is apparently the deeds of Beren and Luthien that inspire Maedhros to consider an assault on Angband. It’s also interesting that something like Maedhros’s idea was contemplated by Fingolfin before the Bragollach (beginning of chapter 18) but at that time the sons of Feanor were very much against the idea. One wonders if Fingolfin would perhaps have been able to form a broader and more effective coalition, since it seems that at least some of the unwillingness of Thingol and Orodreth to join Union was a result of their poor relations with the Feanorians.

We then move on to the Nirnaeth itself. Things go ill from the start, with Maedhros delayed by Uldor’s ‘false warnings of assault from Angband’ and Fingon’s host is drawn from their fortifications by the killing of Gwindor’s brother. Yet victory seems tantalizingly close, especially with the unexpected arrival of Turgon and the army of Gondolin. One can only speculate whether victory was, in fact, ever possible. In any case, it’s interesting to note that for all the sheer size and strength of Morgoth’s forces, the key to his victory is the treachery of Uldor and his followers: ‘Yet neither by wolf, nor by Balrog, nor by Dragon, would Morgoth have achieved his end, but for the treachery of Men.’

The Battle of Unnumbered Tears existed from the earliest version of the mythology, 'The Book of Lost Tales', but the section in which it was to be narrated, 'Gilfanon's Tale', was never written. From the extant notes and outlines, however, we can glean two major differences from the later story: first, the battle was to take place much sooner, perhaps almost immediately upon the return of the Noldoli to Beleriand; second, Morgoth's victory was to be even more complete, so that nearly all of the surviving Noldoli became his thralls.

The narrative that appears in the published Silmarillion is an amalgamation formed from three different sources: the 'Quenta Silmarillion' version, the long 'Grey Annals' entry for the year 472, and the account of the battle written for the 'Narn i Chin Hurin'. There are some interesting subtleties in the relations among those three texts, which Christopher Tolkien does his usual excellent job of analyzing in HoMe XI.

Additonal readings:
HoMe I - Outlines for 'Gilfanon's Tale'
HoMe IV, V - 'Sketch of the Mythology', 'Quenta Noldorinwa', and 'Quenta Silmarillion' versions
HoMe XI - 'Grey Annals' version and CT's discussion of the three different sources
The Children of Hurin - Chapter 2 of this book is the 'Narn i Chin Hurin' version mentioned above.