The Silmarillion

“‘Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had my secret thought conceived the snowflake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of the rain.’” 

This quote is attributed to Ulmo, Lord of Waters. Once the world has been created by the Valar and Eru, the Valar begin to come to terms with the nature of the world they have helped to create. Immediately, this includes discovering the beauty of concepts such as water, snow, and rain. The wordlessness of their song meant that their manner of creation was abstract; the literal acknowledgement of the nature of these natural phenomena is akin to these almost-divine beings discovering beauty for the first time. There is a childlike glee and delight in the way they discover snow and rain. This serves to show the reader two things. Firstly, it elevates the beauty of the world that has been created: Even the creators—incredibly powerful beings—are delighted by the beauty of simple weather. Secondly, it speaks to the nature of the Valar, in that they are not of the world but are from a place outside of it. They are aliens, almost, encountering phenomena that the audience might take for granted. This serves to make them more sympathetic to the audience, as well as setting up their potential failures for the future. The Valar are not all knowing and have never claimed to be. 

“The Great among these spirits the Elves name the Valar, the Powers of Arda, and Men have often called them gods.” 

This quote illustrates two recurring traits in The Silmarillion. Firstly, it shows the Elves’ predilection for naming everything. Throughout the text, they repeatedly give people, objects, and abstract concepts new names. Even when something already has a name, Elves will give it one, two, or even three new names. Partly, this is due to their role as the first people to arrive in Middle-earth, naming the brand-new world and giving it shape; it also reveals the sense of entitlement that will come to be resented by the Dwarves and the Men. Frequently, the Elves act as though they are entitled to rule over Middle-earth and their determination to give everything an Elvish name. Secondly, the quote demonstrates the sheer power of the Valar. Though they are characters (with the traits and flaws that entails), it can be easy to forget the huge scale of the power that the Valar wield. They are somewhat akin to the pantheon of Roman or Greek Gods, with individual names and personalities, but with an endemic power that can be impossible to deny. Tolkien points this out by reminding the reader that—to the Men—the Valar are essentially gods.

“From splendour he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless.” 

The downfall of Melkor helps to establish him as the key moral dilemma in the text. The evilness that defines Melkor seeps into the text and the world from this point onwards. Melkor is shown to be spiritually wasteful and not deserving of the audience’s pity. Here, the arrogance and contempt of Melkor is positioned in direct opposition to the creative splendor of Eru. In the text, this opposition is conveyed in musical terms. If the world is built on a foundation of song and music, Melkor is the discordant theme. He clashes with the harmony established in the song of creation, and all of his negative traits stem from this discord. It is discord that can be shared with other members of the world: Those characters that Melkor corrupts become reflections of his character, singing his own discordant notes and breaking the harmony of the world with arrogance, selfishness, and jealousy. 

“‘All have their worth,’ said Yavanna, ‘and each contributes to the worth of the others.’” 

The above quote helps to establish one of the central ideologies of the text: the idea that, no matter who they are, every character has “worth” (18). Occasionally, this worth can be hard to find or is squandered, but it means that there is no redeemable character. Even Melkor is given numerous chances to show contribution and regret. In that sense, the novel is egalitarian, at least in a spiritual sense. While Catholicism’s concept of original sin might suggest that every person begins their life with a latent level of sin built into their character, quite the opposite is true for Middle-earth and the rest of Eru’s creation. As Yavanna states, “all have their worth” and all are capable of contributing to the betterment of existence. Eventually, this spiritual optimism might lead to tragedy (the indulgence of Melkor and his feigned apology result in destruction and death, for example), but it is an unshakeable belief that remains in place until the end of The Silmarillion cycle and the banishment of Melkor.

“Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers; his spirit burned as a flame. Fingolfin was the strongest, the most steadfast, and the most valiant. Finarfin was the fairest, and the most wise of heart.” 

Once the world and its creators have been introduced, Tolkien begins to populate it with characters. Not only does he introduce the Elves as a race, but he introduces many of the key players who will appear repeatedly throughout the novel, due to the immortality of the Elves. Chief among these is Fëanor. The quote above serves a number of purposes. Firstly, it demonstrates the esteem in which Fëanor is held. He is the “mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers” (26). That his brothers (at least, his half-brothers) are mentioned in the very next sentence creates an immediate juxtaposition and elevates Fëanor above them, while still marking Fëanor as being slightly apart. Fingolfin and Finarfin will accomplish great things and be a part of key narratives in the novel, but few characters occupy the narrative quite like Fëanor. This quote establishes the dynamic that will come to define Fëanor: He is brilliant, yet apart from other Elves. This brilliance and this distance will have great and tragic consequences, not just for Fëanor but for the entire world. 

“‘It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like; and if I must break them, I shall break my heart, and I shall be slain; first of all the Eldar in Aman.’” 

Fëanor’s greatest achievement is his creation of the Silmarils. The jewels are so incredibly beautiful that every character who encounters them covets and desires the Silmarils. They are important enough to lend the text its name and important enough to define the principal story of the novel—the manufacture, loss, and pursuit of the Silmarils. To that extent, Fëanor is a central character. The above quote illustrates that he has already begun to show defiance. From a character standpoint, Fëanor’s eloquence allows him to justify not giving up the jewels in order to save the murdered Trees. He believes that doing so would be to break his heart, and he argues his case well enough that other characters (if not the audience) sympathize with him. In this moment, however, Fëanor is making a value judgement. Regardless of how well he has argued his point, he is nevertheless making a value judgement. He is showing that he values his own creations higher than the creations of the Valar (and their happiness). This is Fëanor’s first real break from the Valar’s domineering ideology and the first challenge to their authority (from someone other than Melkor, at least). This can be argued as the starting point of Fëanor’s downfall; his arrogance and bluntness will not allow him to go back on the point he has made and will eventually lead to the destruction of Fëanor and his people. 

“Then Fëanor laughed as one fey, and he cried: ‘None and none! What I have left behind I count now no loss; needless baggage on the road it has proved. Let those that cursed my name, curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar! Let the ships burn!’” 

The above quote is the moment when Fëanor’s turn away from the light of the Valar is complete. He has shifted irrecoverably away from their benevolence, brought to a point where is he no longer able to determine the benefits they provide to the Elves and the help they have provided to him personally. Fëanor’s pride and arrogance are key to this passage. He curses the needless baggage that he has left behind: not just the Valar, but fellow Elves who he believes are not firmly enough behind his actions. Already, he has forsaken the Valar in speech and attacked the ship builders. In burning the ships and betraying his half-brother, Fëanor can no longer reasonably fulfill the role of the hero. He remains strong, mighty, and intelligent, but he is no longer a morally sympathetic character. The moment Fëanor burns the ships, his life is doomed to end tragically. By this point, Fëanor is beyond redemption. 

“‘Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.’”

Following Fëanor’s reprehensible actions, the Valar (and Manwë in particular) now understand that he is beyond redemption. This particular quote is referred to as the Doom of Mandos, the Doom of the Noldor, or the Curse of Mandos. It sets out the way that Fëanor will be punished and contains a litany of ways that Fëanor, his family, and his people (the Noldor) will suffer as a result of his misguided actions. While there will be a great deal of suffering, the key element of the curse is the question of the Silmarils. Neither Fëanor nor his people, the curse suggests, will ever come to hold the Silmarils ever again. Though they will pursue the stones for a long time (as evidenced throughout the novel), they will never be able to derive pleasure from the success of this pursuit. By the end of the novel, this has come to pass. Though Fëanor’s sons do take possession of two of the Silmarils, the possession of the stones compels them to kill themselves. The Doom of Mandos, brought on by Fëanor’s fall from grace, takes millennia to be fully realized, but it ends exactly as the Valar determine, validating their power.

“‘But love not too well the work of thy hands and the devices of thy heart; and remember that the true hope of the Noldor lieth in the West and cometh from the Sea.’” 

While Fëanor might be doomed, this is not necessarily true for all of the Noldor. In line with the egalitarian sentiments expressed earlier in the text, there remains hope that they can be saved. As Ulmo states in the quote above, hope “lieth in the West” (60), which is tantamount to telling the Noldor that if they apologize and ask for assistance, the Valar might deem it possible. It is a get-out clause in the curse, expressed a number of chapters later that provides a sliver of hope for a particularly doomed people. At the same time, this quote is important as it functions almost as a direct rebuke of Fëanor and his creation of the Silmarils. It warns against pride and materialism, telling the Noldor that the Silmarils (nor anything else they make) will not be worth the price they pay. As bad as the situation becomes for the Noldor, there is always hope—all they have to do is reject the arrogance and beliefs that led them away from Valinor under the rule of Fëanor. 

“Thus it was in Gondolin; and amid all the bliss of that realm, while its glory lasted, a dark seed of evil was sown.” 

There are plenty of points in the text where Tolkien begins to introduce a sense of foreboding, setting up future tragedies. However, few are quite as explicit as this. Gondolin, as a city, has one main defense: the fact that it is hidden away. Secured among the mountains, no one is allowed to know the route into the fortress and, if they do travel into Gondolin, they are not allowed to leave. There are occasionally exceptions—for those who arrive via different routes, for example—but the rule will help Gondolin to remain hidden away from Melkor and his forces for many hundreds of years. However, it is a fragile system of defense. The “dark seed of evil” (67) which is sown in this quote can be understood in a metaphorical sense. The isolation and the secrecy that allows Gondolin to remain hidden away from everyone else in Middle-earth will inevitably breed arrogance and laziness. The inhabitants will begin to feel overly safe and will not concern themselves with the wider happenings of the world, content in the knowledge that they will be protected. When Melkor does eventually locate and destroy the city, part of the fault will lie in those who failed to act upon the world around them. Similarly, in a narrative sense, the fact that Gondolin is considered impregnable means that it is somewhat inevitable that it will eventually fall, based on a principal similar to that of Chekov’s gun (the theory that, “if in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired.”)

“Thus he came alone to Angband’s gates, and he sounded his horn, and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. And Morgoth came.” 

Throughout The Silmarillion, the power of Melkor has rarely been called into question. On numerous occasions, it has been pointed out that he is one of the most (and perhaps the most) powerful of the Valar. To all intents and purposes, he is a god. As a hugely powerful being, he is feared throughout the world. Thus, for an Elf to challenge him to single combat can be considered naive, stupid, and incredibly brave. However, Fingolfin does it regardless of the high likelihood that he will die. It should be pointed out that this is not necessarily arrogance. While many characters demonstrate a hubristic arrogance that leads them into impossible situations, this is not necessarily one of them. Fingolfin is not fighting Melkor for his own personal glorification but to avenge the death of so many of his people. This is a quest of vengeance, doomed as it is. Therefore, it is far more sympathetic and understandable (even if it is still inevitably doomed). In the context of the religiosity of The Silmarillion, this particular story functions as something of a morality tale. There are obvious comparisons to the story of David and Goliath, but the fact that the outcome ends so differently changes the fundamental message of the story. While the story of David convinces the reader that they can overcome impossible odds, the story of Fingolfin warns against trying to take on an impossible fight, even if it is instigated for acceptable and sympathetic reasons. Defeating evil, The Silmarillion suggests, is a collective effort and only possible when people work together. Trying to take on the physical embodiment of evil alone will end in a swift (but perhaps glorious) death. 

“Sauron was become now a sorcerer of dreadful power, master of shadows and of phantoms, foul in wisdom, cruel in strength, misshaping what he touched, twisting what he ruled, lord of werewolves; his dominion was torment.” 

While the primary antagonist in the novel is Melkor, the presence of Sauron slowly increases and lays the foundations for the novels that follow The Silmarillion (in a narrative sense). Sauron’s power is evident, even if he only has two chapters to demonstrate what he is capable of inflicting on the world. At this stage of the story, however, he is a lieutenant, a fearsome understudy of the physical embodiment of evil, Melkor. In that sense, the role of Sauron is similar to the text itself. Namely, Sauron’s role is to lay the foundations and populate the world of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, adding a greater degree of depth to those works by creating a complete and comprehensive world in which the character has existed for millennia. Like in those later texts, Sauron’s “dominion was torment” (76) and he will carry this evilness through to the later works. By positioning as a lieutenant of Melkor, Tolkien adds a vulnerability to Sauron. While Melkor can only be defeated by the Valar, Sauron is a being who can be defeated by Men, Elves, and Dwarves. This makes him a much more interesting protagonist for the later texts, as the protagonists will not need to rely on outside intervention in order to win their war.

“‘Death you can give me earned or unearned; but the names I will not take from you of baseborn, nor spy, nor thrall. By the ring of Felagund, that he gave to Barahir my father on the battle field of the North, my house has not earned such names from any Elf, be he king or no.’” 

The reverence for family and lineage is a persistent theme throughout the entire novel. There are many passages that (like the Old Testament) are little more than family trees and lineages. Indeed, many copies of the text include an illustrated family tree to allow the reader to keep track of the many generations of Elves and Men. The reverence, however, is particularly true of the Elves. This may be due to the fact that they are immortal and thus able to encounter a large number of their own ancestors. By respecting previous familial relationships and encounters, they are able to create strong social bonds that transcend their immortality. Tellingly, this is less true for men, who lack a personal relationship with those figures from the past. In order to benefit from their dealings with the Elves, the Men rely on physical objects to represent the relationships they have formed. In Beren’s quote above, he describes the possession of the ring of Felagund, and it functions as a social short cut. It is a way of endearing a human to a particular Elf, based on the actions of his ancestor. It provides a historical justification for a contemporary relationship. Being as humans live much shorter lives than Elves, being able to pass along these items across generations is a huge boon. It allows for the forming of alliances and friendships. As a result, multiple generations of Men can benefit from a single act of kindness, carried out many centuries before.

“‘For little price,’ he said, ‘do Elven-kings sell their daughters: for gems, and things made by craft.’” 

There are many points in The Silmarillion that aim to highlight the myriad differences between Elves and Men. It is a motif that is repeatedly frequently, juxtaposing two races that are both similar and different in equal measure. However, the above quote is one of the few times that a character explicitly addresses this through speech. Beren chides Thingol, taking an almost mocking tone in response to the demand that Beren retrieve a Silmaril if he wishes to marry Thingol’s daughter. However, there is an irony at play: Beren has stated that Thingol is selling his daughter for a “little price” (81), something of an insult, but the demand that he has made is deliberately impossible. The audience is fully aware of the impossible nature of Thingol’s demand, so Beren’s natural confidence and downplaying of the task is played for comic effect. It is a simple character beat, suggesting that Beren is a confident, charming young man. At a time when his love is being (essentially) denied, he is still able to make comic remarks about the social differences between Elves and Men, rather than lament the difficulty of the task at hand. 

“And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien a thing new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world. Therefore at the last he yielded his will, and Beren took the hand of Lúthien before the throne of her father.” 

The scale of the task that Thingol sets for Beren is such that, by the time he returns with the story of how he (almost) managed to retrieve the Silmaril, Thingol is forced to confront his initial impression of not just this single man but of Men as a whole. Beren (as a representation of his race) is so different from what Thingol had previously believed, that Thingol now believes that Beren (or a man in general) might actually be worthy of his daughter’s hand in marriage (though, ironically enough, Beren has lost his own hand during the fight with the werewolf). By acknowledging the completion of the almost impossible challenge, Thingol is providing the text with an internal endorsement of the capabilities of Men. They may not be Elves, but they are nevertheless capable of incredible deeds and worth considering alongside Elves. Beren’s achievement means that Men can no longer be disregarded in the fight against Melkor, even if they come with their own limitations (namely, their mortality).

“And as she knelt before him her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos was moved to pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.” 

Just as Thingol was forced to reconsider his conception of the world, the story of Beren and Lúthien forces the Valar to rethink the way they conceive of the world and the afterlife. The climax of the story of Beren and Lúthien is, therefore, one of the novel’s most poignant moments. The two lovers die together and, so moved is Mandos by the love they share, that he cannot bear to see them separated by the afterlife. This challenges one of the fundamental rules of the world that has been in place since the creation. Mandos gives Beren and Lúthien a choice, and Lúthien elects to surrender her own immortality in exchange for a (comparatively) short amount of time with the man she loves. Lúthien pays a heavy price for this, as she is no longer allowed to pass through life in the same manner as the rest of her species. That immortality will later become such a burning issue and a key point of contention for Men is important; the fact that an Elf is willingly abandoning her chance to live forever demonstrates not only the strength of the love she feels, but it challenges the foundational principles of what it means to be an Elf. This nature, she believes, is worth sacrificing in exchange for love. 

“This doom she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm, and putting aside all claim to kinship with those that dwell there; that thus whatever grief might lie in wait, the fates of Beren and Lúthien might be joined, and their paths lead together beyond the confines of the world.” 

Leading on from the above quote, the fate of Beren and Lúthien has wider implications for the entire world. Firstly, it demonstrates that there is a real chance for Men and Elves to not only live side by side but to come together in a single, cohesive family to the betterment of all involved. Secondly, the story functions as a reflection of many of the mythologies referenced in the text, particularly the classic love stories that are present in many different societies, cultures, and religions. Tolkien is not just heavily influenced by Germanic and Norse stories, but he lectured about and taught them as an academic. These stories, such as Tristan and Isolde, can be seen in the story of Beren and Lúthien. In these stories, star-crossed lovers overcome huge difficulties in order to be together, propelled forward by the strength of their love. Beren and Lúthien are The Silmarillion’s equivalent of these stories, providing an idealized template for how love (and particularly love between Elves and Men) might function in Middle-earth. 

“‘This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death: though we part here for ever, and I shall not look on your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise. Farewell!’” 

The alliance that is struck between Elves and Men reaches one of its emotional climaxes in Huor’s quote above. After spending so long in Gondolin and becoming such good friends with King Turgon, Húrin and Huor offer to sacrifice themselves for the Elf king. They tell him that he should retreat to his castle while they hold the line in the battle against Melkor’s forces. This seems to mean almost certain death for the two Men, and Turgon respects the level of sacrifice that they are willing to make. In a novel that has chiefly focused on the incredible deeds of the Elves, this is one of the first major instances of Men making heroic last stands and achieving great things. It places Men on a similar pedestal to Elves and demonstrates that the two races may have more in common than they initially believed. If Beren and Lúthien provide the template for romantic love between the two races, then this story provides a template for platonic love that will echo through the ages and help with the continuing battle against the forces of evil. 

“‘This only was wanting. Now comes the night.’” 

After all the miseries and tragedies that befall Túrin, the moment outlined in the above quote is the moment when all are revealed to him for the first time. The story of Túrin is one of misery and tragedy, so the great reveal to the character is a satisfying moment of dramatic irony. Finally, Turin knows as much as the audience, and this knowledge will have a devastating impact. The words themselves come from the mouths of his ostensible friends, making them even more impactful. Furthermore, Túrin is forced to confront the truth being known by one of his former love rivals, one who seems to be taking great pleasure in revealing Túrin’s tragedies and flaws to the wider world. This is the moment when Túrin is forced to come to terms with what he has done. It is possible that he might find some kind of redemption, some way to untie the terrible Gordian knot that is his tragic existence, but Túrin rejects the truth. He kills the man and flees into the woods, unable to adequately process the scale of what has happened to him. The monumental grandiosity of Túrin’s tragedies are so great that there is no way that he can accept them. He rejects redemption and does not consider himself worthy, choosing instead to flee. 

“‘Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly.’” 

The above quote feeds into the sentiment outlined in the previous quote: The sheer scale of the various tragedies that have occurred throughout Túrin’s life bring about the only instance in which a weapon talks to a person. While there are many named weapons and weapons of special importance, this is the only instance in which a weapon gains the ability to speak. Túrin has a conversation with his sword, Gurthang, in which the sword agrees that Túrin’s crimes are so great that suicide is the only option. Furthermore, the sword vouches an opinion, saying that it will “gladly” (111) take part in the suicide. This would suggest that the sword (a hitherto inanimate object) has not only developed the ability to speak, but that it has also developed a concept of morality, one that aligns with the reader and the text. Whether this is brought about by the extreme nature of Túrin’s deeds or whether every weapon has a latent morality and voice (but chooses to remain silent) is not explored. When the sword promises Túrin a quick and easy death, it begins to develop the semblance of a character. It has morality, it makes offers, and it bargains with Túrin. It even seems to take satisfaction from its role in Túrin’s suicide, viewing the death as deserved. It is a just act, the sword seems to suggest, even if it is technically suicide (a matter complicated by Tolkien’s Catholicism, though not called into question in The Silmarillion.)

 “Yet the lies that Melkor, the mighty and accursed, Morgoth Bauglir, the Power of Terror and of Hate, sowed in the hearts of Elves and Men are a seed that does not die and cannot be destroyed; and ever and anon it sprouts anew, and will bear dark fruit even unto the latest days.” 

Throughout The Silmarillion, Melkor has been a physical presence in Middle-earth. During this time, he has led armies and even fought in hand-to-hand combat against an Elf. As his time on Middle-earth begins to draw to a close, the metaphysical legacy of Melkor remains in place. The discordance that he first introduced into Eru’s song of creation—replete with envy, spite, anger, and other negative emotions—remains extant in the world and will outlive Melkor’s physical presence. While Melkor himself might be technically defeated, his legacy will continue to live on in a number of significant ways. Firstly, there are the myriad creations and creatures that he will leave behind. From the dragons to the Balrogs to the fortresses to Sauron himself, Melkor has left many traces of evil in the world. Even the Orcs will endure; Melkor corrupted captured Elves and inflicted a new and terrible race on the world, one that will not go away with his banishment. While Melkor himself is gone, these deputies and creations continue to strive toward his nefarious objectives and propagate his legacy. Secondly (and more pointedly), the emotional resonance of Melkor’s actions will continue to be felt throughout the world. The negative thoughts and emotions that Melkor first spread into the world via several vectors (whether that is Men, the Noldor, or even his Orcs) are still present in Middle-earth. The world was created imperfectly and will never be perfect. Even with the physical embodiment of evil banished into the Void, Melkor’s negative emotional legacy will endure.

“Here ends the SILMARILLION. If it has passed from the high and the beautiful to darkness and ruin, that was of old the fate of Arda Marred; and if any change shall come and the Marring be amended, Manwë and Varda may know; but they have not revealed it, and it is not declared in the dooms of Mandos.” 

The structure of the text means that “Quenta Silmarillion” is a distinct section unto itself, one that concludes with the above quote. The quote itself is indebted to the mythological and religious stylistic choices that differentiate this novel from many of Tolkien’s other works of fiction. The ending is a summation, an acknowledgment of the story’s nature: The story is written in a manner that seems in line with the tradition of oral storytelling, meant to be told to other people. At the conclusion, this act of telling is acknowledged. While most novels do not end with a description of the act of ending, this is not uncommon in religious and mythological texts. Even as “Quenta Silmarillion” draws to a close, Tolkien employs tropes and stylistic flourishes from religious and mythological literature to add an authentic flavor to the text. 

“The Nazgûl were they, the Ringwraiths, the Enemy’s most terrible servants; darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death.” 

After the close of the novel, readers who have read The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit will find themselves in more familiar territory. On several occasions throughout the novel, the Valar have reshaped Middle-earth and changed the nature of the world. Thus, the world as it stands at the end of the story is the one that readers are introduced to in The Hobbit. Characters, locations, and objects begin to appear in the text that will be familiar to those who have read Tolkien’s other works. In examples like the one outlined in the above quote, Tolkien deepens the lore of his other novels. The Nazgûl, antagonists in The Lord of the Rings series, have their origins explained. That this explanation arrives with the depth of information outlined in The Silmarillion is important. The Nazgûl are not just Men who have fallen to temptation, they are the product of a long line of Men who have been tempted by the powers of darkness. As such, Sauron finishes the job that Melkor began and completes their corruption. They are not unique. Rather, they are continuations and summations of the human condition as it appears in The Silmarillion: flawed, corruptible, and (thanks to the depth of lore introduced in The Silmarillion) more sympathetic than expected.