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The Ainulindale
    Now that we know something of J.R.R. Tolkien, we shall turn to his works.  Much has been written about his books, particularly the Lord of the Rings trilogy and much of it is greatly confused.  Rather than add to the confusion by attempting to address his works as a whole, only one short work will be examined here.  All of Tolkien's rich worlds and ideas flow from some center; build on some foundation.  The question is: what is that point of origin?  As the history of our own world is intimately tied to its beginnings, so is Middle Earth's.  Tolkien was not one who skipped on detail.  He designed complete, functioning languages and psychological profiles for the races in his books.  If  he goes so far as to do this and to give to each of his peoples a distinct personae and history, we may assume that he also crafted a definitive history for Middle Earth itself.  The name of this history is The Silmarillion, and those who know something of Tolkien know that it is the pinnacle of his work.  The other books were merely branches that shot off from his great modern myth which he crafted in this book.  In it, he attempted to create an English mythology as Homer once wrote of Greek mythology and the Beowulf poet of Norse.  One of the lesser known works of Tolkien is the Ainulindale(see appendix A-1), which is a word in the Quenyan tongue that roughly translates as the singing of the Ainu or the music of the Ainur.  This book is fairly short and is usually found published in The Silmarillion along with the Valaquenta, the Quenta Silmarillion, and the Akallabeth.  It is within the pages of this short tale that one may find the foundation of Tolkien's secondary world(see appendix A-2).  When mankind searches for the meaning of his existence, he almost always turns to his beginnings, his derivations, for answers.  Man hopes to answer the question of the meaning of his life by trying to find out where that life came from.  The same principle can be applied to Tolkien's works.  To understand them and find the meaning within them we must look back to find where it all began.  The answers are within the Ainulindale.  This is the moment from which all other moments flow and the answer to the questions herein sought.  
    The first thing the well-read scholar will notice as he begins reading the Ainulindale is the tone.  The entire book reads like something out of the Roman Catholic Bible which Tolkien read as a youth.  Add the words, "In the beginning," and it would become almost a second Genesis.  In fact, when the events of the book are summarized in the later Valaquenta, this is exactly how the narrative begins.  Tolkien is not a writer of allegory, and in fact despised it, but this book does find its roots in reality.  To fully understand the difference between allegory and his own particular fashion of teaching us about our world through illustrating its properties in another, a more indepth study must be made than can here be done.  Dr. Richard Putill wrote an excellent book that did so, and further enlightenment may be found in C.S. Lewis' or Tolkien's own essays on fiction. This book is a creation story concerned with the events before and at the very start of the history of Man, much like Paradise Lost.  Indeed, if we are to consider Milton here, we may surmise that his Urania has since moved on from him to Tolkien.  Both authors are in possession of the legendary Christian muse that Moses once had and all three are essentially writing the same story(see appendix A-13).  The stylistic similarities between the Ainulindale and the Old Testament are merely superficial.  It is the actual content that is most similar.  The theistic world that Tolkien believed in has given direct birth to the universe of Middle Earth.  His modern myth derives part of its power from this origin.  Tolkien once said of the Bible, "It has preeminently the `inner consistency of reality'."  Some contend that a man may love a myth or story because his wishes that it were true, and Tolkien's world is one that he disguises so that we may be surprised when we discover that it is, in his belief, true(see appendix A-3).  There are many things to be learned by examining the relationship between what Tolkien has given us in his books and what he believes.  Therefore, the best way to examine the Ainulindale is to compare and contrast it with the story it derives from, the Biblical story of the creation.
    The book opens in much the same way as Genesis, with the first character introduced being the creator.  He names him Eru, the One.  Much of what is said of Eru, who is known by the people of Middle Earth as Iluvatar, is written in the Ainulindale.  He is seldom referred to in other works, particularly the (chronologically) later books such as The Two Towers.  Certainly there are reasons for this, which will not be addressed here but are considered in the sixth chapter of Lord of the Elves and Eldils by Richard Purtill.  This book is the major concern here, and in this book Eru is a central figure.  He creates the Ainur, the children of his thought, in the timeless halls.  We may assume that the existence which the Ainur lead is a spiritual existence, as the regions where they dwell are contrasted with the material realm of Middle Earth, which is known as Ea (literally, the world that is), and discourses on the Valar in later books detail how they have no need of bodies but simply take them on as a raiment.  These Ainur are the equivalent of heavenly angels, a fact that Tolkien himself confirmed several times in interviews.  The Ainulindale states that each of these beings is given certain gifts which reflect the mind of Illuvatar(see appendix A-12).  None comprehends the whole, but rather that part from which he sprang.  They take delight in listening to each other sing, which is the first thing their creator teaches them to do, thus showing, as Dorothy Sayers puts it, "The mind of the maker is generally revealed, and in a manner incarnate, in all its creation.  The works, severally and jointly, are manifestations within space-time of the Energy and instinct with the Power of the Idea.  The personality of the creator is expressed partially, piecemeal, and as it were impersonally through created persons."  Thus, the Ainur delight in knowledge of Eru gleaned from understanding those around them.  It is the plan of the creator that each should express his part of the great music that flows from his being.  To this end, Iluvatar calls all of them together and declares to them a "mighty theme" that they are all to sing together(see appendix A-4.
    The music which the Ainur make becomes the focal event of the rest of the book.  Tolkien begins his description of it with a leap into the future that foreshadows the events about to transpire and prophesies the ultimate ends of them.  The music is an expression of the work of creation, with each part corresponding to the individual's part in the mind of Iluvatar.  It is revealed that the song is going to fail in its purpose but will be remade and performed correctly at the end of days when, "the themes of Iluvatar shall be played aright, and take being in the moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand fully his intent in their part, and each shall know the comprehension of each, and Iluvatar shall give to their thoughts the secret fire(see appendix A-5), being well pleased."
      The song itself goes through several distinct stages.  It is a symbolic event that in one pages sums up the entire volume of Tolkien's works.  The original strain corresponds temporally to the existence which the Ainur are currently enjoying in the timeless halls.  This existence is shattered in the song and in their lives by the discord of Melkor, who will be discussed later. There is a war of sounds that parallels the rebellion among the Ainur that is just beginning and equates to the biblical war in Heaven between Lucifer and Michael.  The next phase of the song involves the introduction of a new theme by Eru.  During this time, the war between the powers escalates.  It may be assumed that this part of the song covers the early ages of Middle Earth before the coming of man or elf, when the Valar fought with Melkor for dominion of Arda (-the Earth).  Now we come to the third theme.  This part is particularly significant, as the bulk of Tolkien's books deal with the time frame herein symbolized, the time of elf and man.  This is the last part of the song which the Ainur sing.  The music ends with one mighty chord, representing some mighty change that Tolkien does not explain for us as he does the other parts of the song. Up until this point in history,  the Ainur know much of what is and is to come, but after it their knowledge fades.  No sure answer can be known, but the evidence points to this great chord as standing for The Incarnation.  This explanation would fit well with Tolkien's description of it, with the timeline enacted in his books, and with the biblical history of the angels and God's work on Earth.  (See appendix A-6)
    The rest of the Ainulindale is made up of Eru's speeches to the Ainur which detail their place within the creation to come, their entrance into Ea, and the establishment of Middle Earth. These pages have little to do with the history of Ea itself and more to do with the nature of the Ainur and the interplay between them.  To understand this we must first understand them as beings.
    To call the Ainur angels is easy and accurate, but the ideas associated with that word are, as Tolkien knew, far from what he wanted to portray.  He wanted to make the them less like the popular image of angels and more like what he believed them to be like.  Tolkien is attempting, by giving us something familiar in a new guise, to teach us a little bit about how far our thoughts have gone astray.  His concept of angelic beings is a romantic portrayal of a scientific viewpoint. This concept is an interesting mix between Scholasticism and Neoplatonism, of a chimerical quality like that found in the poems of Spenser.  The world in which these beings exist and their function in it is very neoplatonic.  We see the Ainur becoming bound to and controlling certain forces of nature, whereby they become the Powers or the Valar, as they are most often named. Each has its own stewardship over some facet of Arda, much like Milton's Uriel or C.S. Lewis' Malacandra(see appendix A-7).  Yet, though they are bound to Middle Earth and take form in the element of their guardianship and in the shapes of men, they remain at heart spiritual beings. There is a difference between masculine and feminine, but the difference is one of essence not gender.  Lewis' eldils in Perelandra were similar, being "masculine, not male" and "feminine, not female."  The Ainur have no need of bodies, for "Their shape comes of their knowledge of the visible world, rather than of the world itself; and they need it not, save only as we use raiment, and yet we may be naked and suffer no loss of our being.  Therefore the Valar may walk, if they will,  unclad, and then even the Eldar cannot clearly perceive them, though they be present."  Milton made similar comments about the angels in Paradise Lost:
            "All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
             All intellect, all sense, and as they please,
            They limb themselves, and color, shape, or size
            Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare."
The difference between the Ainur and the race of Man can be seen in something as simple as their speech.  Tolkien describes their voices as being, "like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words."  C.S. Lewis creates a world with a similar background as Tolkien's but looked at differently in his Space Trilogy, where he refers to the voices of angelic beings as follows, "The two syllables sounded more as if they were played on an instrument than as if they were spoken: and yet they did not sound mechanical either.  A machine is something we make out of natural materials; this was more as if rock or crystal or light had spoken of itself."  Thus we see one small but essential things that illustrates the difference between Man and Ainu.  Yet these spiritual beings may take on human form and even produce offspring it seems.  The primary example of this would be the tale of Thingol and Melian which is told in the Quenta Silmarillion.  Such an occurrence does not contradict Tolkien's own basic religious theology.  We are told in Genesis 32:24 how Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord and how Lot sat down to a meal with two angels in Genesis 19:3.  Several times the Bible records how these spiritual beings could take physical shape and interact with the world, something Tolkien was certainly aware of.  Hugh Ross wonders over this question himself in The Genesis Question, where he tackles the subject of the "sons of God and the Nephilim" in chapter sixteen.  He speculates whether the Nephilim, the so-called "heroes of old, men of renown", might be the result of intercourse between angel and woman.  Such an idea seems strange to us now, but it may not have seemed so to someone who lived in a different time. It was common in ancient mythologies for mighty heroes and villains to be the sons of supernatural creatures such as gods, demons, and other spirits.
    Many of the great Christian authors have noticed that history has several stages.  Tolkien's song of the Ainur is a personification of this concept, where in each age something is radically different and what is done in one may not be possible in the another.  There is the time before Ea, the time during which Arda is established, the coming of elves and men, the departure of the elves and the laying down of the stewardship of the Valar, and the dominion of man.  Lewis also refers to this.  A discussion takes place amongst some of his characters to the effect that mankind and the spiritual forces of Heaven are in a stage of the great war where there is no direct confrontation, but that this state of affairs may be changing and that there was once a time in the past, before Christ, when supernatural forces collided on a physical level.  In his Space Trilogy, the passage of  different stages in the history of time are best illustrated in That Hideous Strength, where Ransom (a character modeled after J.R.R. Tolkien) says, "The Hideous Strength holds all this Earth in its fist to squeeze as it wishes.  But for their one mistake, there would be no hope left.  If of their own evil will they had not broken the frontier and let in the celestial powers, this would be their moment of victory.  Their own strength has betrayed them.  They have gone to the gods that would not come to them, and pulled down Deep Heaven on their heads."  As Tolkien's angels eventually withdraw from the Earth, so Lewis' show us what may happen in the final days of Middle Earth with their own return.  Another example of how history is divided into ages separated by changes in the order of the universe is in the Bible itself.  In Second Peter 2 the apostle divides up human history into three sections; there is the ancient world(see appendix A-8) that perished in water, the present world that will perish in fire, and the new creation which will not perish where, as Tolkien puts it, "A greater (music) still shall be made before Iluvatar by the choirs of the Ainur (-the angels) and the Children of Iluvatar (-men) after the end of days."
    An intersting point to turn to here is the identity of the Children of Iluvatar.  They are not mentioned much in the Ainulindale as the book takes place before their creation.  In Tolkien's books they are separated into two groups: the Firstborn and the Secondborn.  Elves, the Quendi, and men, the Atani.  There is an eloquent description of the two races in their musical representation in the third theme of the music of the Ainur.  The fate of the Quendi is dealt with extensively in The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings.  They are like the Nephilim of the ancient world, halfway between man and vala.  To them are given the gifts of power, beauty, and unending life.  Another interesting thing to note about the elves is their moral standing.  They do not die, nor do they seem to have the same relationship to Eru that man does.  There is no such thing as an evil elf kingdom.  Elves that are corrupted cease to be elves and become orcs, a transformation and decision much like that of the Ainur.  The elves are very like the Ainur in many ways and have a deep bond with them.  They are under the stewardship of the Valar while this is a  condition that man does not share.  A good parallel for this situation would be C.S. Lewis' Malacandrans in the book Out of the Silent Planet.  They have free will of a type, but it is not complete, unguided freedom such as man has.  They are supervised beings that are guided by the eldils.  This situation is virtually identical to that of Tolkien's elves.  Mankind has a very different place in Middle Earth.  He is not under the guidance of the Valar.  His gifts are different than those given to the Firstborn.  Tolkien speaks of this in the Quenta Silmarillion, "  Therefore he willed that the hearts of men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein; but that they should have a virtue to shape their life, amid the powers and chances of the world, beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else; and of their operation everything should be, in form and deed, completed, and the world fulfilled unto the last and smallest.   But the elves die not...but the sons of man die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers.  Death is their fate, the gift of Iluvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy.  But Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope."  This is an amazing passage, as it demonstrates artistically what Tolkien's colleagues established intellectually.  He was making a profound statement about the true nature of mankind and our racial psychology that could hardly have been put better in some long philosophical discourse.  He describes death as the "gift of man" and firmly believed that it was so for our race.  Man does not have to remain confined in this sad world but soon escapes to freedom with his creator beyond the confines of the world, but because of the work of the satanic Melkor, he fears his hope and ends up casting himself into the Void.  There is a wealth of valuable similarities between Lewis and Tolkien, and here another comparison will be very valuable.  In the above passage from The Silmarillion Tolkien states that one of man's gifts is that his heart finds no rest upon the Earth and searches beyond.  The existence of this particular quality, which C.S. Lewis described with the word Sehnsucht, was an argument he used to prove the existence of God.  Basically, as Lewis puts it, if we had merely evolved within this world we could not possibly develop a desire that could not be fulfilled within it; the fish in the ocean does not desire anything beyond his watery world, for it is what he was made for, but human beings have a longing that goes beyond this Earth and that cannot be satisfied within it.  Therefore, if we can never find our place  in this world, then we must logically assume that we were meant for a different one.  As he puts it, "If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it (my longing), that does not mean that the universe is a Fraud.  Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing."  This argument is a very interesting one that has gone largely unheeded lately.  Tolkien formed a beautiful example of this theory at work in Iluvatar's gifts to Man.  Another gift of Man that was specified was free will.  The fates of mankind are not to be dictated by the Valar but are left in the hands of the beings themselves.  Eru gave them that gift and that responsibility, that they should have to make their way among the chances and Powers, burdening them with a particular personal responsibility.   The Valar may not interfere; nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus .  Man's story in Tolkien's world is, as in our world, as strange and wondrous one.
    One who wished to could easily fit Tolkien's entire world into the historical model provided by the Bible.  The ancient world of which Peter spoke and which the Nephilim inhabited could be the world that is given to us in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.  "Could be" is the essential term here.  The point that is essential to pick up here is just how much Tolkien's books point to and draw from biblical histories.  Tolkien does not propose that any of his stories are true, except in the sense that any secondary world is a whole and real creation, any more than Lewis calls his Space Trilogy true.  They are both fictional series, but they are constructed in such a way that they could be true potentially, since they adhere to the fabric of the reality that these men lived in.  Tolkien does not wish his works to be viewed in such a light, however.  He desires only that they be read and enjoyed for what is contained within them.  If one were to ask Tolkien why he created his universe, he would probably say that the miracle of the creation of a secondary world is justification enough for its own existence, and like all things in our world, reflects the wonders of God.  Because of his belief in how all good things are merely reflections of the facets of the infinite personality of God, there are some inevitable connections between his work, the Bible, and other works by authors with similar beliefs.  Each one of us is like the Ainur, showing some facet of the mind of Iluvatar; each one singing a different part; saying something different, but speaking of the same thing.  Tolkien and Milton, Sayers and Lewis, Moses and Saint Peter can all be compared and put side by side  because they were all doing exactly that: saying different things but telling the same story.  What each one is saying is not the object of the story itself.  The Bible itself is not God or salvation, it is merely the sign that point us toward the real object. When we read any of the books, fiction or nonfiction,  by the great authors that have lived throughout time, we are like the man seeking the delight of the garden of the Hesperides in Richard Ladborough's poem The Landing; who finds not golden apples but a golden telescope, through which he sees into the West and beholds the "true" Hesperides and then continues on with his friends to fulfil his final longing(see appendix A-10).  Tolkien has given us a beautiful garden where we may relax, enjoy ourselves, and learn, but it is not the final destination.
    Tolkien did not concentrate on explaining his works but rather on creating them.  What little insight we may gather about them must be gleaned from various sources that tell us of his personal outlook.  Leaf by Niggle is the story that tells us the most about him, as it is an autobiographical allegory.  Rather than searching through the rest of his works for more information, it would be wise to turn instead to those who have made a professional study of him and read the books they have compiled drawing together the essential bits and pieces, such as the aforementioned book by Dr. Purtill.
    Now that we have examined the nature of the world that Tolkien has made for us and some of the views and ideas that come from that, it is possible to examine more closely some of the specific features of this universe.  The nature of the Ainur is now clear, so let us turn to some of the specific beings that are in the Ainulindale.  After the rebellion, some of them fall and some of them do not.  By far, the most fascinating part of this book is the examination of The Fall. Beyond Iluvatar himself, there are two others who hold places of importance in this part of the story.  The first is Melkor and the second is Manwe(see appendix A-11).  Manwe is the simpler character so he will be addressed first.
    Manwe is shown to be one of the mightiest of the Ainur.  It is said of him that he, "served most faithfully the purpose of Iluvatar."  This statement is simple but has much significance, as it shows the primary characteristic of Manwe: service.  Above all things, he is a servant.  We soon witness his being crowned the Lord of the Valar and king over Middle Earth.  This is a very effective story illustrating the biblical teachings of servant leadership and the value of humility.  As an old song tells us, "If you want to be great in God's kingdom, you've gotta be a servant of all." Manwe was that great servant, and through his perfect obedience  he became, "the chief instrument of the second theme that Iluvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor."  As we will recall, the second theme represented the time when the Valar struggled with the powers of darkness for dominion of Arda.  We can see clearly in the form of Manwe the being Michael, the archangel.  Less in beauty and power, but made mightiest in honor and servitude, Michael/Manwe is the epitome of the angelic beings and represents everything Satan/Melkor is not.  Descriptions of this particular character are always vague, no matter where you find them.  There is a simple reason for this: it is difficult to conceive of a being that is so high and exalted and pure because we humans do not possess these traits ourselves.  Every author knows that it is easier to create a great villan  than it is to craft a great hero.  C.S. Lewis wrote an excellent book that was told from the perspective of two demons.  This was easier than writing a story from the perspective of two angels.  Lewis makes some very illuminating statements in his Preface to Paradise Lost.  As he puts it, "To make a character worse than oneself it is only necessary to release imaginatively from control some of the bad passions which, in real life, are always straining at the leash; the Satan, the Iago, the Becky Sharp, within each of us, is always there and only too ready, the moment the leash is slipped, to come out and have in our books the holiday we try to deny them in our lives. But if you try to draw a character better than yourself, all you is to take the best moments you have had and try to imagine them prolonged and more consistently embodied in action.  But the high virtues which we do not possess at all, we cannot depict except in a purely external fashion." Thus he asserts that it is easier to craft evil characters than good ones because, while we can easily think of how we would be if we were to be much worse than we are, it is impossible to conceive what it would be like to be much better than we are.  This is an excellent explanation for why Manwe, though a greater being, is dealt with less and depicted less clearly while with Melkor it is exactly the opposite.  Indeed, as in Paradise Lost, the Satan-figure holds the most prominent place in the Ainulindale.
    "Last of all is set the name of Melkor, He who arises in Might.  But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor, who among the Elves suffered most from his malice, will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World....In the powers and knowledge of all the other Valar he had a part, but he turned them to evil purposes, and squandered his strength in violence and tyranny.  For he coveted Arda and all that was in it, desiring the kingship of Manwe and dominion over the realms of his peers."  This statement is made in the Valaquenta, and nicely sums up the most essential points regarding Melkor.  He was mighty, he fell from glory, and his fall was caused by prideful ambition.  These three statements are the life story of the greatest being ever created by Eru, and it is also the story of the mightiest creation made by God in our own world, Satan.  Melkor means He who arises in Might, and Lucifer means Morning Star.  This is the state that these beings started at; they were once the greatest of their kind.
    Tolkien makes the point of Melkor's greatness early in the Ainulindale.  Iluvatar speaks to the Ainur after they have sung their music and says, "Might are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor."  And as was said earlier, he had a part of all the powers and knowledge of his brethren, he reflected the greatest part of the mind of Iluvatar.  Alex Strauch says something similar of Satan in his series of sermons on that subject, "He was a precious symbol of God's creative power.  When you looked at Lucifer you were to see pure beauty.  The glory of God was supposed to reflect from him."  This all fits perfectly with the assertion that Melkor and Satan have a shared story that begins with them being in perfectly similar states of exalted glory.  In the Old Testament book of Ezekiel, chapter 28,  there is a prophesy against the king of Tyre, and then (as biblical scholars have long recognized) the text goes on into a lament for the true kind of Tyre, Satan himself.  It says, "You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty." John Keats once said, "tis the eternal law/ That first in beauty should be first in might."  This statement finds its fulfilment in the persons of Melkor and Satan.  Even though he is already the greatest of his kind, we see Melkor in the Ainulindale trying to make himself even greater.  During the singing of the great music, he departs from the original theme and begins to add in things of his own devising for the purpose of making his part even greater, causing discord that initiates the war of song which unfolds.  Here is where Melkor makes his mistake.  He was given the honor of reflecting the greatest part of the mind of Iluvatar, but as he pondered the greatness he saw reflected in himself, he ceased to see it as derived glory and instead became vain and self serving. Melkor ceased to see himself as the most perfect representation of the creator and desired to be a god himself.  When he reached Arda, while Manwe and his Valar are shaping it and serving diligently, he shows how he has fallen by declaring these words: "This shall be my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself."  Thus did he signal his utter and complete ruin and fall from grace.
    The second thing said of Melkor and Satan is that they fell.  We have seen how Melkor fell and the story of Satan is much the same.  Those who have read Paradise Lost will recall the vain antihero of that book who willingly turned himself into a living contradiction-in-terms.  He says, "Evil, be thou my good," and his prayer is answered.  Some critics of Milton and readers of his works have become confused when they read of Satan and hear his eloquent speeches; some even admire him in a way, something Milton himself would be appalled at.  We must be clear on the nature of this being; that, as C.S. Lewis says in his Preface to Paradise Lost(see appendix A-9), "the Devil is (in the long run) an ass."  Satan and Melkor attempt to declare themselves coeval with their creator, something quite impossible since all their power, including the power to revolt, is derived power.  Once fallen, Milton's Satan cannot stand up to even lesser angels in combat, while Tolkien's Melkor gradually loses all of the powers he once had: "Whereas Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate, until at last he could make nothing save in mockery of the thought of others."  In trying to rise up, they are cast down.  Tolkien's Melkor is an excellent picture of his biblical inspiration, with his declarations of dominion over Arda echoing back to a passage of Iaiah, chapter 14, "You said in your heart, `I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain.  I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.'  But you are brought down to the grave, to the depths of the pit."  The ending to this passage is particularly revealing when we consider that Melkor, once fallen, makes his dwelling place always in a pit in the depths of the Earth.  When at last he is overcome, he is bound up and cast out into the eternal pit, the Void, for all eternity; and one by one those he corrupts, Ainur and man, follow him there.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.  Melkor chose his fate as men must now do.  There are those who, like Manwe, will say to God, "Thy will be done," and there are those to whom, like Melkor, God will say, "Thy will be done."  We can cry, like Satan, "Evil be thou my good," and we can attempt to set ourselves up as gods, ruling our own lives and attempting to be the judges of God, but it is easy to see where that will lead us.  Satan; Melkor, call him what you will, his story is a warning to those who would follow in his footsteps.  There is an interesting speech at the end of the book The Magician's Nephew, where a similar warning is issued; where the heroes are standing in a wood with many pools that acts as a nexus for the various worlds God has created, with each pool leading to a different world.  One pool has dried up; one that led to a place called Charn.  Aslan, who is an incarnation of Christ from a different world, speaks to the heroes thus, " `Look here, children.' They looked and saw a little hollow in the grass, with a grassy bottom, warm and dry.  `When you were last here,' said Aslan, `that hollow was a pool, and when you jumped into it you came to the world where a dying sun shone over the ruins of Charn.  There is no pool now.  That world is ended as if had never been.  Let the race of Adam and Eve take warning.'  `Yes, Aslan,' said both the children.  But Polly added, `But we're not quite as bad as that world, are we, Aslan?'  `Not yet, Daughter of Eve,' he said.  `Not yet.  But you are growing more like it.  It is not certain that some wicked one of your race will not find out a secret as evil as the Deplorable Word and use it to destroy all living things.  And soon, very soon, before you are an old man and an old woman, great nations in your world will be ruled by tyrants who care no more for joy and justice and mercy than the Empress Jadis.  Let your world beware.  That is the warning.' "
        An interesting thing to do these days is to find someone who has read Tolkien's works and ask them for their interpretations of it.  What we find, in most cases, is that many people have a great appreciation for the books but have no understanding of Tolkien as a man or of the significance of his works.  Tolkien, like Milton, was born to be misinterpreted.  He would rather have had no criticism or interpretation placed on his works than to have the wrong one spread around.  Through him, ordinary people have been able to enjoy some of the fruits of mature Christianity while never quite knowing what it is that they're tasting.  Many blind themselves to the obvious Christian elements because they want to enjoy the books and do not wish to be told that what they are enjoying is a sample of life within the converted intellect.  There is an unhealthy stigma against Christianity: it isn't fun, it isn't fair, it isn't realistic, it isn't what I want to believe, it's archaic, it's dead, it's hypocritical, it's unclear, I don't want to consider these issues.  Tolkien tries to awaken a hunger that sleeps in us by giving us a sample while blindfolded. Few can, or indeed want to, believe that the delicious dish they have just tasted is something they regard as quite distasteful, so many prefer to keep the blindfold on.
    The degree to which people have blinded themselves varies with the subjects in question. Three separate interviews conducted in any ordinary environment such as a school would turn up very different ideas on Tolkien.  There are three very common responses to his work which one would find represented.  The first is the simple enjoyment of his books where the subject's ideas on them have yet to progress beyond simple appreciation with no attempt at literary analysis  and the guess that perhaps the books exert their power through wish fulfillment.  Sehnsucht is fully alive on this person's heart.  This viewpoint is particularly prevalent among younger people and those who are, for the first time, enjoying Tolkien's books.  The second is common among those who are well read and educated, and this point of view is fairly objective.  Usually this person manages to come up with very clear analytical ideas of Tolkien's works and may even go so far as to deduce the existence of some "underlying force or power that they (the characters) call upon," and that it is "a world that has some type of meaning of good and evil and morals and philosophies that don't rely on external values."  This is a good example of literary analysis and understanding, though perhaps some of the heart and feeling of the books is missed; that taste of Heaven which is meant to draw the reader in.  This second response is very understanding, but it also contains an element of psychological distance from the works.  The third common response is a mix between the first two; the reader has a great love for the books and has gone beyond to really thinking about them, but has missed the mark in finding a correct interpretation.  This third response is probably the most common one amongst adult readers of Tolkien, who often try to alter things or explain them in a certain way to fit in their own particular world-view.  Excitement is not lacking, but the understanding of where that excitement  comes from has been tainted by trying to explain it in terms of what the reader would like to hear rather than what they are meant to hear.
    All three of these reactions are those of readers who are still in their infanthood in their understanding and appreciation of Tolkien, not that there is any dishonor in being in this state. The first step to wisdom  is understanding that there is something to learn.  The third response has its admirable qualities and its faults.  This response shows both the feelings of excitement that Tolkien hoped to arouse and the attempt at understanding that mysterious thrill, which is the way to where he would lead us.  Unfortunately, both factors are tainted by the fact that the conclusions drawn are false, thus turning understanding to ignorance and invalidating the purpose of the books.  They can no longer act as the introduction to the mountains that they were meant to be because they are interpreted as pointing in some other way and the enjoyment and rest that they should provide is tainted by the incorrect ideas which we try to bring into them.  
    The second response was an excellent analysis, but without the driving force of the emotional pull of the books, there is no fuel to drive the subject on to the final revelation where they may see the mountains and go to them.  In picking apart the books, much is learned, but the beauty of a piece of art is not in the canvas, the paint, the frame, the light, or the brush; the true beauty is in the whole creation when the brush smooths the paint on the canvas and the canvas is placed in the frame and the light is shone upon it.  Until the pieces all come together in one work it has no real significance and it is also difficult to tell who created it.  The Mona Lisa would be of very little value if it were reduced to its component parts and we would have no knowledge of Da Vinci; the expression of his style and his mind would be absent in such a case.  This person is like the man Parish in Leaf By Niggle who saw only "canvas and paint."   We must not focus too much on the scientific view of Tolkien, for in this case understanding is present but is not pursued or taken to its destination because the drive to do so has been lost in the analysis.
    The first response was probably that which Tolkien would have most approved of.  The Bible tells us that we must be as simple as children in our hearts and as wise as serpents with our intellects.  Here we see the simple appreciation with no analysis formed, so the mind is yet virgin and can proceed more easily to the mountains that either of the first two.  This subject usually guesses that the power of the stories is in wish fulfillment, a hypothesis which is entirely true.  All that needs to happen now is for the subject to understand what it is that he is wishing for and how it may be satisfied.  His sehnsucht is powerful and will one day perhaps prompt him to search for its origin and meaning, and when he finds it he will have found the fountainhead of the spring from which Tolkien frank and which his readers get but a taste of the lower waters of.  For now he is tasting the stream as he walks in the woods of the retreat which Tolkien crafted for us(see appendix A-14), but one day he may decide to trace its headwaters and follow it up, up, up into the highlands beyond, and come at last to the well which flows everlastingly with living water. This is the hope that has been given to us and I pray that all readers of The Lord of the Rings will follow it whence it leads.  Tolkien speaks of his world in Leaf By Niggle: "...it was only a glimpse then...but you might have caught the glimpse, if you had ever though it worthwhile to try."  There is something in these stories that calls to us and speaks of something we long to reach and know, but the answer itself is not to be found there.  We are like the children in C.S. Lewis' story The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, who journey to the eastern edge of the world and find themselves alone by the wall of the sky on a grassy plain on which stands a single lamb.  
    -  "Please, Lamb," said Lucy, "is this the way to Aslan's country?"
    Not for you," said the Lamb.  "For you the door into Aslan's country is from your own world."
    "What!" said Edmund.  "Is there a way into Aslan's country from our world too?"
    "There is a way into my country from all worlds," said the Lamb; but as he spoke his snowy white flushed into tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane.
    "Oh Aslan," said Lucy.  "Will you tell us how to get into your country from our world?"
    "I shall be telling you all the time," said Aslan.  "But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river.  But do not fear, for I am the great Bridge Builder....you shall meet me, dear one, " said Aslan.
    "Are-are you there too sir?" said Edmund.
    "I am," said Aslan.  "But there I have another name.  You must learn to know me by that name.  This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there." -