The Music of Solstice in The Silmarillion: Mortality, Hope, and the Hidden Triumph
Few could foresee that, in that hour, Ilúvatar triumphed over evil through weakness, as it had been foresung in the Music of old.
What is solstice? It’s more than the Sun’s “standing” in the sky—it’s a powerful symbol of the power of Light in our lives.
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s lore, Iluvatar’s children are not created; they are awakened. The Elves awaken at the bay of Cuivienen and for a long age gaze upon the stars of Varda. Men, the Second-born, awaken with the first rising of the Sun, and their eyes are ever turned toward the Sun.
“At the first rising of the Sun the Younger Children of Ilúvatar awoke in the land of Hildórien.” The Silmarillion
Just as the Elves got enamored of the stars of heaven at the time of their awakening, so too did Men become enamored of the Sun when it first arose above the girdle of the world. The Elves called the Second-born the Children of the Sun. As Men wondered about the land lit by the Sun, they had “the joy of the morning before the dew is dry.”
The Valar knew that the Sun would be their protection from evil. The Sun was made out of the last golden fruit of Laurelin ere the Tree perished from the poison of Ungoliant. The vessel of the Sun was affixed in the sky as a sign of the awakening of Men.
Yet the Sun did not shine with the pure light of old—the light that once radiated from Laurelin. That “first light” lived on only in the Silmarils. The Sun bore salvaged light. The Valar knew that Men, being weaker in stature than the Elves, would not long endure against the darkness of Melkor by their own power. They needed light to survive.
So Yavanna Kementári, in a song of power, drew forth what she could of Laurelin’s last light—for the sake of Men. Thus, Men were awakened by the light salvaged from a mortal wound dealt by Melkor to the Two Trees. Paradoxically, the Sun became both their protection from evil and a sign of their mortality. Such was the strange turn of fate that marked the coming of the strange gifts of Iluvatar into the world of Men.
From this time forth were reckoned the Years of the Sun. Swifter and briefer are they than the long Years of the Trees in Valinor. In that time the air of Middle-earth became heavy with the breath of growth and mortality. The Silmarillion
Since the first gleam of the first dawn in Arda, the fate of mortal Men is bound to the fate of the Sun. We draw our strength from its light and find in its rays protection from evil. We are truly the Children of the Sun. Its light is our food. And yet, the Sun’s salvaged light is also a sign of our mortality—the strange gifts of Iluvatar.
Paradoxically, what seemed a diminishment in the eyes of the Valar, who mourned the loss of the Two Trees, Iluvatar in his infinite wisdom, turned into the ultimate gift. The salvation of Arda from evil would come not through the strength or power of the mighty but through the frailty of those who would wield the strange gifts of mortality to relinquish Power.
Ilúvatar’s Third Theme in the Great Music—the theme of mortality—became embodied in the first rays of the Sun. Few could foresee that, in that hour, Ilúvatar triumphed over evil through weakness, as it had been foresung in the Music of old. Perhaps Mithrandir was one of the few who intuited it deep in his heart as he carried his “fool’s hope” until the end.
Speaking of the final triumph over evil in the War of the Ring, Tolkien writes,
“In that last battle… at the last they looked upon death and defeat, and all their valour was in vain; for Sauron was too strong. Yet in that hour was put to the proof that which Mithrandir had spoken, and help came from the hands of the weak when the Wise faltered. For, as many songs have since sung, it was the Periannath, the Little People (Hobbits), dwellers in hillsides and meadows, that brought them deliverance.”
The waning of one light is always the waxing of another. We always mourn the loss of light because even the wise cannot see all ends. The wise cannot perceive a “fool’s hope.” Hope only comes to those who willingly become fools in their own eyes—to catch a glimpse of it.
“If anyone among you considers himself to be wise… he must become a fool in order to be truly wise.”