ALQUALONDË AND TELEPORNO

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[4] And this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[13] Cf. n.10.

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

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