The Silmarillion

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1977

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Summary

Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Parts 1-2

Part 3, Chapters 1-3

Part 3, Chapters 4-6

Part 3, Chapters 7-9

Part 3, Chapters 10-12

Part 3, Chapters 13-15

Part 3, Chapters 16-18

Part 3, Chapters 19-21

Part 3, Chapters 22-24

Parts 4-5

Character Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

Essay Topics

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Discussion Questions

Symbols & Motifs

The Silmarils

Lending the novel its title, the Silmarils are the most potent symbols in The Silmarillion. Though they may just seem to be jewels, they are actually far more potent and powerful objects. They contain the soul of the world, an indescribable beauty that captivates whoever glimpses the Silmarils; they are “the house of [Arda’s] inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life” (30). This makes them very desirable, far more so than all the other jewels mentioned in the text. The Silmarils reflect the majesty of creation; they may even possess the ability to bring life back to the dead Trees of Valinor, though Fëanor refuses to break them open and find out whether this is possible. One Silmaril corrupts the heart of Thingol, another burns the stomach of a werewolf and drives the werewolf insane. When Maedhros and Maglor eventually get hold of the Silmarils, they cannot stand to live and both commit suicide.

The jewels are so wonderful that they drive the overarching narrative of the text. From the moment Fëanor creates the Silmarils to the moment his two sons kill themselves, the question of who possesses the Silmarils is the most important question in the novel. The Silmarils and the desire to keep hold of them partly motivates Fëanor to lead the Noldor out of Valinor; the oath sworn by Fëanor’s sons ensures that there will never truly be peace in the lands of the Elves; and the number of wars and battles fought over the possession of the stones is almost uncountable. As objects of desire, they motivate many of the plots. Even in a number of the more self-contained stories, such as Beren and Lúthien, the question of who owns a Silmaril becomes an important plot point. As well as representing the goodness of the world, the Silmarils reflect many of the world’s negative emotions: They are always coveted and fill many hearts with envy. The Silmarils come to symbolize both the incredible potential of the Elves and the extent to which this incredible potential can be squandered.

The squandering of potential is reflected in the final moments of the novel. The sons of Fëanor have sought to reacquire the Silmarils for many centuries. They have fought wars against their fellow Elves, they have threatened numerous people, and they have even marched on Angband with the intention of retrieving their father’s lost works. They are compelled to do so, having sworn an oath to their dying father and locking themselves into an inescapable cycle that Maedhros describes as a “dreadful doom” (125). When the last two remaining brothers get the final two Silmarils, they cannot tolerate the ownership of the jewels. Maedhros’ hand is burned by a “pain unbearable,” while Maglor is “tormented” (125). In their pursuit of the Silmarils, the brothers have become unworthy of owning their father’s creations. They are the embodiments of the squandered potential of the Elves and they kill themselves, bringing the cycle of The Silmarillion to a close. By the end of the story, the symbol of the Silmarils comes to reflect the demise of the beauty of the world of the Elves. It was a flawed world, one that could not tolerate the existence of the Silmarils, so it had to be brought to an inevitable end. The Elves, the world, and the Silmarils themselves might have once had potential, but that potential was never realized.

Song

Song, music, and lyricism are important themes in the novel. The novel is built on a tradition of orally-shared stories, sagas, songs, and legends, so the inclusion of music as a central theme is stylistically relevant. This begins on the very first page, when Eru gathers together the Valar and quite literally sings the world into existence. From Eru and the Valar, “a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony that passed beyond hearing” (3), showing how the characters are all singing as one and fashioning existence into being from out of the Void. It is the beauty and the harmony of the song that imbues them with creative powers and the ability to make something wonderful. This is further illustrated when Melkor begins to differentiate himself from the others. What had been a beautiful song now becomes discordant: Melkor’s refusal to harmonize—to literally sing his own song—begins to jeopardize everything Eru is trying to achieve. Melkor introduces thoughts, themes, and emotions that are “not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar” (3) and that will eventually come to represent all the evil in Middle-earth. This is an example of morality expressed in terms of harmony: When every member of the Valar sings together, they create nothing but good; when one member deviates and disrupts the harmony, evil is woven into the fabric of creation.

Because the entirety of existence is created through the medium of song, it should be no surprise to find that the use of song in Middle-earth is important and valued. The ability to sing is a skill that allows for the crossing of a number of important cultural divides; it strengthens social bonds. For instance, when Finrod first encounters Men, he uses music to introduce himself to the new race. He takes up a “rude harp” (68) and—though the music of Men seems coarse and rough in comparison to the artistry of the Elves—he plays to the sleeping humans and, when they awake, he befriends them. The music is a common theme shared between the two races and, even though they do not speak one another’s language, Finrod is able to use his musical skills to bridge this cultural divide. In a world where song is such a key theme, every race understands its inherent benefits.

However, it is also possible to use song as a weapon. When Thingol tells Beren to retrieve a Silmaril from the crown of Melkor in exchange for Lúthien’s hand in marriage, Beren accepts but does not have a plan. Thankfully, Lúthien accompanies him on his journey and—once they gain access to Melkor’s court—she sings a song that lulls Melkor and his minions to sleep. This is an example of the power of beauty triumphing in the face of evil. Lúthien understands one of the fundamental principles on which the world is built and uses it against Melkor, the figure of discordance who almost ruined the act of creation. She uses song as a weapon, but for a morally positive reason.

Weaponry

Though the world first created by Eru does not seem to need weapons or armies, the fall from grace of Melkor ensures that there is a sudden need to be able to fight. Thus, weapons become important and the creation and wielding of weapons becomes a familiar theme throughout the novel. Weapons symbolize the arrival of violence in the world, as well as the sharing of the knowledge that is required to make them, and the forging of alliances between different groups who possess this knowledge. When violence arrives in Middle-earth, the sudden need for bonds and alliances is represented by the way weapons are portrayed.

One of the Elves’ best qualities is their thirst for knowledge. They learn how to smith and forge all manner of items. Fëanor creates his Silmarils, most obviously, but the Elves learn many techniques from the Valar and build upon this knowledge among themselves. When it becomes clear that Melkor is a real threat, the Elves must suddenly learn how to apply these skills to the creation of weaponry. That they previously lacked weapons shows the state of the world just after creation; that they are quickly able to learn how to make weapons shows just how quickly Elves can acquire and implement knowledge.

What’s more, the weapons that they create begin to carry significant cultural weight and importance. Weapons are given names (Grond, the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin, Ringil, Narsil, and Anglachel) and passed down across generations. Individuals are able to recognize and determine the significance of individual weapons, referencing the deeds of the particular weapon and acknowledging the benefits that it brought to the world. Weapons belong to great families, and being permitted to wield a weapon can signify success and respect gained from peers or elders. The numerous names given to various weapons by the Elves also helps to marry them to the mythology of the text, intertwining them in songs, stories, and sagas. Weapons are not just weapons, but they come to signify certain cultural characteristics that everyone acknowledges.

At one point in the novel, a weapon is even given a voice. Anglachel was created by Eöl, who gave it to Thingol, who entrusted it to Beleg. After a storied existence, the sword comes into the possession of Túrin (after he accidentally kills his friend Beleg). After Túrin’s litany of mistakes and tragedies are revealed, Túrin himself holds a conversation with the sword, which has been imbued with a personality. He asks Anglachel to kill him swiftly, and Anglachel answers that it will “gladly” (111) do so. At this moment, the sword casts a moral judgement over Turin’s actions. The theme of weaponry slightly changes: Weapons are no longer inanimate killing machines but now bear witness to the morality of the deeds that they are employed to conduct. This kind of righteous behavior is an evolution of the way weaponry was introduced to the text. Weapons were a necessary evil, intended to combat Melkor. When turned to odious purposes, those weapons can rebel against their wielders. The theme of weaponry is never separated from the morality of their use.