u/Ok_Bullfrog_8491

Reading Emma, every scene with Mr. Knightley was wonderful. He’s steady, intelligent, unfailingly correct, much wiser than everyone else in this novel combined (his brother excepted), and unfailingly courteous to all women.

And then you get to the last few pages, where he tells Emma:

“Nature gave you understanding:—Miss Taylor gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what right has he to lecture me?—and I am afraid very natural for you to feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least.”

Why did you have to say that!

There’s been a lot of discussion recently about the Doom and about how Beren, Thingol, Dior and Elwing were justified in wanting/keeping the Silmaril, because it eventually led to Eärendil managing to get through the barriers that the Valar had erected around Valinor to keep that pesky, inconvenient war out and convincing the Valar to do their jobs. 

But that was not why they did what they did. There is no indication whatsoever that Beren, Thingol, Dior and Elwing thought that keeping the Silmaril was necessary to fulfil some Doom and to save the world from Morgoth; instead, it’s clear that they all coveted the Silmaril at least in part for inherently selfish reasons. 

Thingol (and Melian) 

Fundamentally, Thingol sets Beren the impossible task of bringing him a Silmaril because he sees is as an easy and clean way to murder Beren (see here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84134861), but he certainly also wants the Silmaril. Melian disapproves, of course. 

Lay of Leithian 

Thingol says to Beren, “A treasure dear I too desire, but rocks and steel and Morgoth’s fire from all the powers of Elfinesse do keep the jewel I would possess.”  (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1128–1131) 

Melian repeatedly disapproves, and eventually tells Thingol: “Yet if mine eyes lose not their power, ’twere well for thee that Beren failed his errantry.” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1191–1194) Thingol obviously ignores her. 

Sketch of the Mythology 

The Sketch only has a few words to say about why Thingol demands a Silmaril from Beren: “To win her Thingol, in mockery, requires a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth.” (HoME IV, p. 24) For details, it refers to the Lay of Leithian (see above).

However, Thingol’s selfishness becomes clear later, when Maedhros tries to organise a united front against Morgoth: “Thingol will not send from Doriath. Some say out of selfish policy, others because of the wisdom of Melian and of fate which decreed that Doriath should become the only refuge of the Eldar from Morgoth afterwards. Part was certainly due to the Silmaril, which Thingol now possessed, and which Maidros had demanded with haughty words.” (HoME IV, p. 26, fn omitted) That is Thingol doesn’t want to get involved in fighting Morgoth because the Sons of Fëanor, who have mostly been running the war for centuries, want their property back. Note that this has nothing to do with Celegorm and Curufin, by the way: at this point in the textual development, they’re the founders of Nargothrond and Celegorm offers to help Lúthien. There’s no reason for ill-will here, it’s literally just Thingol wanting to keep the Silmaril. 

Quenta Noldorinwa  

The QN is perfectly explicit about Thingol’s motivation: it’s killing Beren, full stop: “But Thingol was wroth and he dismissed him in scorn, but did not slay him because he had sworn an oath to his daughter. But he desired nonetheless to send him to his death. And he thought in his heart of a quest that could not be achieved, and he said: If thou bring me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, I will let Lúthien wed thee, if she will.” (HoME IV, p. 109) 

But again, Thingol’s greed becomes apparent later, when Maedhros tries to form his Union against Morgoth: “From Doriath none came [fn: changed to: From Doriath too came scanty aid]. For Maidros and his brethren had before sent unto Doriath and reminded Thingol with exceedingly haughty words of their oath, and summoned him to yield up the Silmaril. This Melian counselled him to do, and maybe he would have done, but their words were overproud, and he thought how the jewel had been gained by the sorrows of Thingol’s people, [fn: Added here: and the anguish of Lúthien] and despite the crooked deeds of the sons of Fëanor; and greed [fn: greed > covetice] too, it may be, had some part in the heart of Thingol, as afterwards was shown. Wherefore he sent the messengers of Maidros back in scorn.” (HoME IV, p. 116, 120, fn omitted) 

So now the Nargothrond debacle and the role of Celegorm and Curufin has appeared, but still, Melian expressly tells Thingol to return the Silmaril to its rightful owners, and Thingol doesn’t want to do it not only because he doesn’t like said rightful owners, but also because of his greed/covetice. Covetice basically refers to the excessive desire to possess something belonging to another person. 

Later, when the Dwarves steal the Silmaril and Beren recovers it and Lúthien wears it, Melian again tells Beren and Lúthien that it’s lunacy: “Yet Melian warned them ever of the curse that lay upon the treasure and upon the Silmaril.” (HoME IV, p. 134)

Obviously nobody listens to Melian. Whyever would Melian’s husband, son-in-law and daughter listen to her, a Maia who sang the universe into existence?  

Quenta Silmarillion 

When Thingol demands a Silmaril as Lúthien’s bride-price, Melian immediately tells Thingol: “O King, you have devised cunning counsel. But if my eyes have not lost their sight, it is ill for you, whether Beren fail in his errand, or achieve it. For you have doomed either your daughter, or yourself. And now is Doriath drawn within the fate of a mightier realm.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) That is, she warned Thingol from the start that the whole Silmaril business would end badly for Thingol and Doriath, and Thingol obviously perseveres anyway, because he (just like anyone else in the family) is allergic to listening to Melian. 

Melian keeps telling Thingol to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor later on: “From Doriath came little help. For Maidros and his brethren, being constrained by their oath, had before sent to Thingol and reminded him with haughty words of their claim, summoning him to yield to them the Silmaril, or become their enemy. Melian counselled him to surrender the jewel, and perchance he would have done so, but their words were proud and threatening, and he was wroth, thinking of the anguish of Lúthien and the blood of Beren whereby the jewel had been won, despite the malice of Celegorn and Curufin. And every day that he looked upon the jewel, the more his heart desired to keep it for ever. Such was its power. Therefore he sent back the messengers of Maidros with scornful words.” (HoME V, p. 308)

That is, Thingol’s reasons for not returning the Silmaril to its rightful owners are (1) stealing it was really hard for Beren and Lúthien (hey, remember why they had to go through all that trouble in the first place, my guy?), and (2) the Silmaril is really shiny and pretty and it’s my birthday, my love, and I wants it. 

The published QS then further highlights Thingol’s greed and selfish behaviour: “For as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it, and he liked not to let it rest even behind the doors of his inmost treasury; and he was minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping.” (Sil, QS, ch. 22) Note that this was written by Christopher Tolkien (AR, p. 210), although it fits the late text Concerning the Hoard very well (see below). 

Tale of Years 

Unlike in later versions, the Dwarves that kill Thingol don’t manage to take off with the Silmaril; instead, Melian escapes during the fighting and takes the Nauglamír and the Silmaril to Beren and Lúthien before leaving Middle-earth and returning to Valinor (HoME XI, p. 347, 350). It’s unclear why anyone does anything in this text, though, since it’s extremely concise, without stated motivations for anything. 

Grey Annals 

Again Thingol’s main goal in setting the bride-price of Lúthien at a Silmaril is killing Beren: “Beren was brought before King Thingol, who scorned him, and desiring to send him to death, said to him in mockery that he must bring a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth as the bride-price of Lúthien.” (HoME XI, p. 62; see also HoME XI, p. 65) 

Concerning the Hoard 

This is the latest text (1964) that Tolkien wrote about Thingol and his greed wherever jewels and gold are concerned. 

This is what happens when Húrin brings him the treasure of Nargothrond (on which Glaurung had lain): 

“But even as he did so, Thingol looked at the hoard and the dragon-curse began to work upon him, and upon all there who gazed at the treasure. The outlaws, released from the presence of Húrin, claimed that it was theirs, won by their weapons and labour. Fighting broke out, even in the inviolable halls of Thingol.
Blood was spilled on either side, but in the end all the outlaws were slain and Thingol then had the treasure locked in a deep chamber. But it gnawed his mind, for the most of the treasure that had been brought from Nargothrond was in gold and silver yet unwrought, and he lusted specially for the silver, thinking what might be done with it. At last in an unhappy hour he sent for the Dwarves of the Mountains to the east from Belegost and Nogrod. With them he had dealings and some friendship, and long ago they had helped in the building of his grand underground halls and palace.
The Dwarves sent emissaries, and they gazed on the treasure in amazement. After bargaining they agreed to send their best smiths to work at Thingol’s orders but at the price of one tithe of the unwrought metals. The smiths came and laboured long, and among other marvellous works they made the renowned “Necklace of the Dwarves”, of silver, upon which was set in the middle the peerless Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien had won from the Iron Crown of the Dark Lord. But as their work progressed Thingol began to regret the bargain, and in particular he saw that if the tithe was paid in full, not enough would remain for the making of a thing upon which he had now set his spell-distraught heart, a double throne of silver and gems for himself and Melian the Queen.” (Concerning the Hoard) 

Thingol eventually refuses to pay the Dwarves what was promised for their work. The Dwarves leave, plot and then return with an army, which gets into Doriath somehow (it’s unclear why the Girdle of Melian didn’t keep the army out). The Dwarves take the treasure of Nargothrond and also the necklace with the Silmaril. On the way back, Beren routs the Dwarves, takes the necklace, and Lúthien wears the Silmaril until she dies.  

Dior 

The very early text The Nauglafring offers some first information on why Dior also refused to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor: 

“Now Maidros, whom Melko maimed, was their leader, and he called to his brethren Maglor and Dinithel, and to Damrod and to Celegorm, to Cranthor and to Curufin the Crafty, and he said to them how it was now known to him that a Silmaril of those their father Fëanor had made was now the pride and glory of Dior of the southern vales, ‘and Elwing his daughter bears it whitherso she goes – but do you not forget,’ said he, ‘that we swore to have no peace with Melko nor any of his folk, nor with any other of Earth-dwellers that held the Silmarils of Fëanor from us. For what,’ said Maidros, ‘do we suffer exile and wandering and rule over a scant and forgotten folk, if others gather to their hoard the heirlooms that are ours?’
Thus was it that they sent Curufin the Crafty to Dior, and told him of their oath, and bid him give that fair jewel back unto those whose right it was; but Dior gazing on the loveliness of Elwing would not do so, and he said that he could not endure that the Nauglafring, fairest of earthly craft, be so despoiled. ‘Then,’ said Curufin, ‘must the Nauglafring unbroken be given to the sons of Fëanor,’ and Dior waxed wroth, bidding him be gone, nor dare to claim what his sire Beren the Onehanded win with his hand from the [?jaws] of Melko – ‘other twain are there in the selfsame place,’ said he, ‘and your hearts be bold enow.’” (HoME II, p. 241)

That is, much like Thingol’s reasoning in the much later Quenta Silmarillion, Dior’s reasons here are: (1) the Nauglafring is too beautiful to remove the Silmaril from it, and (2) stealing the Silmaril was really hard for Beren. 

The Sketch of the Mythology tells us that, “Dior re-established Doriath and grew proud, and wore the ‘Nauglafring’, and the fame of the Silmaril went abroad. After vain bargaining the sons of Fëanor made war on him” (HoME IV, p. 33). So, Dior was likely too proud to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor. 

The Quenta Noldorinwa unfortunately gives us very little: “But Dior wore the Silmaril upon his breast and the fame of that jewel went far and wide; and the deathless oath was waked once more from sleep. The sons of Fëanor, when he would not yield the jewel unto them, came upon him with all their host” (HoME IV, p. 134, fn omitted). 

The Earliest Annals of Beleriand and the Later Annals of Beleriand also don’t say much about Dior’s reasoning: in both versions, the Sons of Fëanor send messages to Dior demanding the Silmaril, and in both versions, it seems like they’re ignored by Dior, and that they attack Doriath a year after that, with a battle being fought “on the east marches of Doriath” (HoME IV, p. 307; HoME V, p. 142). 

In both versions, Elwing has the Silmaril, and she’s taken to the Havens by Sindar faithful to Dior: “The maiden Elwing was saved by faithful Elves and taken to Sirion’s mouth, and with them they took the jewel and the necklace.” (HoME IV, p. 307) “The maiden Elwing was saved by faithful Elves, and they fled with her to the mouths of Sirion, and they took with them the jewel and the necklace, and Maidros found it not.” (HoME V, p. 142) 

Tale of Years

This text is substantially the same as the Annals, with the usual prior demand being ignored by Dior and the battle on the marches, with the difference that Elwing flees with her mother Lindis. 

“505 The sons of Fëanor hearing news of the Silmaril that it is in Doriath hold council. Maidros restrains his brethren, but a message is sent to Dior demanding the Jewel. Dior returns no answer.
506 Celegorn inflames the brethren, and they prepare an assault on Doriath. They come up at unawares in winter.
506–507 At Yule Dior fought the sons of Fëanor on the east marches of Doriath, and was slain. […] The Lady Lindis escaped with Elwing, and came hardly to Ossir, with the Necklace and the Jewel. Thence hearing the rumour she fled to the Havens of Sirion.” (HoME XI, p. 351) 

The published QS has this as Dior’s motivation for keeping the Silmaril: “Long did Dior gaze upon the Silmaril, which his father and mother had brought beyond hope out of the terror of Morgoth; and his grief was great that death had come upon them so soon. But the wise have said that the Silmaril hastened their end; for the flame of the beauty of Lúthien as she wore it was too bright for mortal lands.” (Sil, QS, ch. 22) This was written by Christopher Tolkien (AR, p. 210), but it’s based on the Tale of Years: “mayhap the Silmaril hastened their end, for the flame of the beauty of Lúthien as she wore it was too bright for mortal lands.” (HoME XI, p. 348) 

I find it notable that people at this point evidently believe that the Silmaril is dangerous for mortals and shortens their lifespan, but Dior, who is mortal, wears it anyway (and has his daughter wear it, I imagine). Dior’s reasons for keeping it boil down to pride, covetice and remembering his father/parents, even though at this point people are talking about how wearing the Silmaril led to his mother’s early death.  

Elwing 

The Sketch has no information on why Elwing wanted to keep the Silmaril; also note that at this point, this Silmaril’s story basically ends with Elwing throwing it in the sea. Eärendil doesn’t convince the Valar to intervene (instead, Ulmo does), and Eärendil later gets another Silmaril.

This changes in the Quenta Noldorinwa, of which there are two versions: 

• “The dwelling of Elwing at Sirion’s mouth, where still she possessed the Nauglafring and the glorious Silmaril, became known to the sons of Fëanor; and they gathered together from their wandering hunting-paths. But the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which fair Dior had been slain.” (HoME IV, p. 149–150) 
• “Upon the havens of Sirion new woe had fallen. The dwelling of Elwing there, where still she possessed the Nauglafring and the glorious Silmaril, became known unto the remaining sons of Fëanor, Maidros and Maglor and Damrod and Díriel; and they gathered together from their wandering hunting-paths, and messages of friendship and yet stern demand they sent unto Sirion. But Elwing and the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which Dior the Fair was slain; and least of all while Eärendel their lord was in the sea, for them seemed that in that jewel lay the gift of bliss and healing that had come upon their houses and their ships. […] And yet Maidros gained not the Silmaril, for Elwing seeing that all was lost and her child Elrond taken captive, eluded the host of Maidros, and with the Nauglafring upon her breast she cast herself into the sea, and perished as folk thought.” (HoME IV, p. 152–153, fn omitted)

That is, Elwing and her and Eärendil’s people do not want to return the Silmaril when the Sons of Fëanor demand it because: (1) Beren had stolen it, (2) Lúthien had worn it, (3) Dior had died for it, (4) they believed that it kept them in bliss and safe/healed. The last point is rather fascinating because keeping the Silmaril from the Sons of Fëanor is certainly not keeping them safe from the Sons of Fëanor. 

The subsequent Annals texts contain some significant differences from the QN texts. In particular, Maedhros and Maglor’s involvement in the Third Kinslaying dwindles to being present, and Maedhros forswears his oath for fifteen years. More important for present purposes, however, is what both texts have to say about why the people of Sirion didn’t give up the Silmaril when the Sons of Fëanor demanded it: 

• Earliest Annals of Beleriand: 210 “Maidros hears of the upspringing of Sirion’s Haven and that a Silmaril is there, but he forswears his oath.” (HoME IV, p. 308) 225 “Torment of Maidros and his brothers because of their oath. Damrod and Díriel resolve to win the Silmaril if Eärendel will not yield it. […] The folk of Sirion refused to give up the Silmaril in Eärendel’s absence, and they thought their joy and prosperity came of it.” (HoME IV, p. 308)
• Later Annals of Beleriand: “310 [510] Maidros learned of the upspringing of Sirion’s Haven, and that the Silmaril was there, but he forswore his oath.” (HoME V, p. 142) “325 [525] Torment fell upon Maidros and his brethren, because of their unfulfilled oath. Damrod and Díriel resolved to win the Silmaril, if Eärendel would not give it up willingly. […] The folk of Sirion refused to surrender the Silmaril, both because Eärendel was not there, and because they thought that their bliss and prosperity came from the possession of the gem.” (HoME V, p. 143)

That is, the main reason for not wanting to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor was because Eärendil (who has nothing to do with the Silmaril in the first place) was absent, and because the people believed that the Silmaril brought them “bliss and prosperity” (while Morgoth is ravaging Beleriand).  

Further thoughts 

At no point do any of these people ever desire or keep the Silmaril for higher reasons like knowing the Doom. For Thingol, it starts out as a murder weapon and turns into a greedy, covetous obsession that Melian, who does know enough about the Doom of the Silmaril to know that it will destroy Doriath and her loved ones, hates (he conveniently likes to forget why Beren and Lúthien nearly died to get it for him); for Dior, it’s pride, greed and remembering his father, and (mortal) Dior wears it even though it’s now believed that wearing it will hasten a mortal’s death (serious question, are the Silmarils radioactive?); for Elwing and the people of Sirion, it’s Beren and Lúthien, Dior’s death (at Celegorm’s hands), and believing that the Silmaril made them prosperous and blissful. 

And all of that really begs the question: why on earth didn’t they just spare themselves a ton of trouble by returning the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor? All these people know that the Sons of Fëanor swore a magically binding and compulsive oath concerning the Silmaril that now functions as a curse. Why is retaining the stolen jewel of Fëanor more important for Thingol, Dior and Elwing than keeping themselves and their kingdoms/peoples safe from a bunch of warlords who they all know are compelled to take it from them? Why didn’t they just all do what Melian counselled from the start? Why does no one ever listen to the wisest person in Beleriand? Why is Melian doomed to be Cassandra? 

Sources 

The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME II]. 

The Lays of Beleriand, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME III].

The Shaping of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME IV]. 

The Lost Road and Other Writings, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME V].

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

Arda Reconstructed: The Creation of the Published Silmarillion, Douglas Charles Kane, Lehigh University Press 2009 (softcover) [cited as: AR]. 

JRR Tolkien, Concerning the Hoard, image at https://www.jrrtolkien.it/2022/07/04/scoperto-manoscritto-che-cambia-il-silmarillion/ [cited as: Concerning the Hoard].

There’s been a lot of discussion recently about the Doom and about how Beren, Thingol, Dior and Elwing were justified in wanting/keeping the Silmaril, because it eventually led to Eärendil managing to get through the barriers that the Valar had erected around Valinor to keep that pesky, inconvenient war out and convincing the Valar to do their jobs. 

But that was not why they did what they did. There is no indication whatsoever that Beren, Thingol, Dior and Elwing thought that keeping the Silmaril was necessary to fulfil some Doom and to save the world from Morgoth; instead, it’s clear that they all coveted the Silmaril at least in part for inherently selfish reasons. 

Thingol (and Melian) 

Fundamentally, Thingol sets Beren the impossible task of bringing him a Silmaril because he sees is as an easy and clean way to murder Beren (see here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84134861), but he certainly also wants the Silmaril. Melian disapproves, of course. 

Lay of Leithian 

Thingol says to Beren, “A treasure dear I too desire, but rocks and steel and Morgoth’s fire from all the powers of Elfinesse do keep the jewel I would possess.”  (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1128–1131) 

Melian repeatedly disapproves, and eventually tells Thingol: “Yet if mine eyes lose not their power, ’twere well for thee that Beren failed his errantry.” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1191–1194) Thingol obviously ignores her. 

Sketch of the Mythology 

The Sketch only has a few words to say about why Thingol demands a Silmaril from Beren: “To win her Thingol, in mockery, requires a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth.” (HoME IV, p. 24) For details, it refers to the Lay of Leithian (see above).

However, Thingol’s selfishness becomes clear later, when Maedhros tries to organise a united front against Morgoth: “Thingol will not send from Doriath. Some say out of selfish policy, others because of the wisdom of Melian and of fate which decreed that Doriath should become the only refuge of the Eldar from Morgoth afterwards. Part was certainly due to the Silmaril, which Thingol now possessed, and which Maidros had demanded with haughty words.” (HoME IV, p. 26, fn omitted) That is Thingol doesn’t want to get involved in fighting Morgoth because the Sons of Fëanor, who have mostly been running the war for centuries, want their property back. Note that this has nothing to do with Celegorm and Curufin, by the way: at this point in the textual development, they’re the founders of Nargothrond and Celegorm offers to help Lúthien. There’s no reason for ill-will here, it’s literally just Thingol wanting to keep the Silmaril. 

Quenta Noldorinwa  

The QN is perfectly explicit about Thingol’s motivation: it’s killing Beren, full stop: “But Thingol was wroth and he dismissed him in scorn, but did not slay him because he had sworn an oath to his daughter. But he desired nonetheless to send him to his death. And he thought in his heart of a quest that could not be achieved, and he said: If thou bring me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, I will let Lúthien wed thee, if she will.” (HoME IV, p. 109) 

But again, Thingol’s greed becomes apparent later, when Maedhros tries to form his Union against Morgoth: “From Doriath none came [fn: changed to: From Doriath too came scanty aid]. For Maidros and his brethren had before sent unto Doriath and reminded Thingol with exceedingly haughty words of their oath, and summoned him to yield up the Silmaril. This Melian counselled him to do, and maybe he would have done, but their words were overproud, and he thought how the jewel had been gained by the sorrows of Thingol’s people, [fn: Added here: and the anguish of Lúthien] and despite the crooked deeds of the sons of Fëanor; and greed [fn: greed > covetice] too, it may be, had some part in the heart of Thingol, as afterwards was shown. Wherefore he sent the messengers of Maidros back in scorn.” (HoME IV, p. 116, 120, fn omitted) 

So now the Nargothrond debacle and the role of Celegorm and Curufin has appeared, but still, Melian expressly tells Thingol to return the Silmaril to its rightful owners, and Thingol doesn’t want to do it not only because he doesn’t like said rightful owners, but also because of his greed/covetice. Covetice basically refers to the excessive desire to possess something belonging to another person. 

Later, when the Dwarves steal the Silmaril and Beren recovers it and Lúthien wears it, Melian again tells Beren and Lúthien that it’s lunacy: “Yet Melian warned them ever of the curse that lay upon the treasure and upon the Silmaril.” (HoME IV, p. 134)

Obviously nobody listens to Melian. Whyever would Melian’s husband, son-in-law and daughter listen to her, a Maia who sang the universe into existence?  

Quenta Silmarillion 

When Thingol demands a Silmaril as Lúthien’s bride-price, Melian immediately tells Thingol: “O King, you have devised cunning counsel. But if my eyes have not lost their sight, it is ill for you, whether Beren fail in his errand, or achieve it. For you have doomed either your daughter, or yourself. And now is Doriath drawn within the fate of a mightier realm.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) That is, she warned Thingol from the start that the whole Silmaril business would end badly for Thingol and Doriath, and Thingol obviously perseveres anyway, because he (just like anyone else in the family) is allergic to listening to Melian. 

Melian keeps telling Thingol to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor later on: “From Doriath came little help. For Maidros and his brethren, being constrained by their oath, had before sent to Thingol and reminded him with haughty words of their claim, summoning him to yield to them the Silmaril, or become their enemy. Melian counselled him to surrender the jewel, and perchance he would have done so, but their words were proud and threatening, and he was wroth, thinking of the anguish of Lúthien and the blood of Beren whereby the jewel had been won, despite the malice of Celegorn and Curufin. And every day that he looked upon the jewel, the more his heart desired to keep it for ever. Such was its power. Therefore he sent back the messengers of Maidros with scornful words.” (HoME V, p. 308)

That is, Thingol’s reasons for not returning the Silmaril to its rightful owners are (1) stealing it was really hard for Beren and Lúthien (hey, remember why they had to go through all that trouble in the first place, my guy?), and (2) the Silmaril is really shiny and pretty and it’s my birthday, my love, and I wants it. 

The published QS then further highlights Thingol’s greed and selfish behaviour: “For as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it, and he liked not to let it rest even behind the doors of his inmost treasury; and he was minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping.” (Sil, QS, ch. 22) Note that this was written by Christopher Tolkien (AR, p. 210), although it fits the late text Concerning the Hoard very well (see below). 

Tale of Years 

Unlike in later versions, the Dwarves that kill Thingol don’t manage to take off with the Silmaril; instead, Melian escapes during the fighting and takes the Nauglamír and the Silmaril to Beren and Lúthien before leaving Middle-earth and returning to Valinor (HoME XI, p. 347, 350). It’s unclear why anyone does anything in this text, though, since it’s extremely concise, without stated motivations for anything. 

Grey Annals 

Again Thingol’s main goal in setting the bride-price of Lúthien at a Silmaril is killing Beren: “Beren was brought before King Thingol, who scorned him, and desiring to send him to death, said to him in mockery that he must bring a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth as the bride-price of Lúthien.” (HoME XI, p. 62; see also HoME XI, p. 65) 

Concerning the Hoard 

This is the latest text (1964) that Tolkien wrote about Thingol and his greed wherever jewels and gold are concerned. 

This is what happens when Húrin brings him the treasure of Nargothrond (on which Glaurung had lain): 

“But even as he did so, Thingol looked at the hoard and the dragon-curse began to work upon him, and upon all there who gazed at the treasure. The outlaws, released from the presence of Húrin, claimed that it was theirs, won by their weapons and labour. Fighting broke out, even in the inviolable halls of Thingol.
Blood was spilled on either side, but in the end all the outlaws were slain and Thingol then had the treasure locked in a deep chamber. But it gnawed his mind, for the most of the treasure that had been brought from Nargothrond was in gold and silver yet unwrought, and he lusted specially for the silver, thinking what might be done with it. At last in an unhappy hour he sent for the Dwarves of the Mountains to the east from Belegost and Nogrod. With them he had dealings and some friendship, and long ago they had helped in the building of his grand underground halls and palace.
The Dwarves sent emissaries, and they gazed on the treasure in amazement. After bargaining they agreed to send their best smiths to work at Thingol’s orders but at the price of one tithe of the unwrought metals. The smiths came and laboured long, and among other marvellous works they made the renowned “Necklace of the Dwarves”, of silver, upon which was set in the middle the peerless Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien had won from the Iron Crown of the Dark Lord. But as their work progressed Thingol began to regret the bargain, and in particular he saw that if the tithe was paid in full, not enough would remain for the making of a thing upon which he had now set his spell-distraught heart, a double throne of silver and gems for himself and Melian the Queen.” (Concerning the Hoard) 

Thingol eventually refuses to pay the Dwarves what was promised for their work. The Dwarves leave, plot and then return with an army, which gets into Doriath somehow (it’s unclear why the Girdle of Melian didn’t keep the army out). The Dwarves take the treasure of Nargothrond and also the necklace with the Silmaril. On the way back, Beren routs the Dwarves, takes the necklace, and Lúthien wears the Silmaril until she dies.  

Dior 

The very early text The Nauglafring offers some first information on why Dior also refused to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor: 

“Now Maidros, whom Melko maimed, was their leader, and he called to his brethren Maglor and Dinithel, and to Damrod and to Celegorm, to Cranthor and to Curufin the Crafty, and he said to them how it was now known to him that a Silmaril of those their father Fëanor had made was now the pride and glory of Dior of the southern vales, ‘and Elwing his daughter bears it whitherso she goes – but do you not forget,’ said he, ‘that we swore to have no peace with Melko nor any of his folk, nor with any other of Earth-dwellers that held the Silmarils of Fëanor from us. For what,’ said Maidros, ‘do we suffer exile and wandering and rule over a scant and forgotten folk, if others gather to their hoard the heirlooms that are ours?’
Thus was it that they sent Curufin the Crafty to Dior, and told him of their oath, and bid him give that fair jewel back unto those whose right it was; but Dior gazing on the loveliness of Elwing would not do so, and he said that he could not endure that the Nauglafring, fairest of earthly craft, be so despoiled. ‘Then,’ said Curufin, ‘must the Nauglafring unbroken be given to the sons of Fëanor,’ and Dior waxed wroth, bidding him be gone, nor dare to claim what his sire Beren the Onehanded win with his hand from the [?jaws] of Melko – ‘other twain are there in the selfsame place,’ said he, ‘and your hearts be bold enow.’” (HoME II, p. 241)

That is, much like Thingol’s reasoning in the much later Quenta Silmarillion, Dior’s reasons here are: (1) the Nauglafring is too beautiful to remove the Silmaril from it, and (2) stealing the Silmaril was really hard for Beren. 

The Sketch of the Mythology tells us that, “Dior re-established Doriath and grew proud, and wore the ‘Nauglafring’, and the fame of the Silmaril went abroad. After vain bargaining the sons of Fëanor made war on him” (HoME IV, p. 33). So, Dior was likely too proud to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor. 

The Quenta Noldorinwa unfortunately gives us very little: “But Dior wore the Silmaril upon his breast and the fame of that jewel went far and wide; and the deathless oath was waked once more from sleep. The sons of Fëanor, when he would not yield the jewel unto them, came upon him with all their host” (HoME IV, p. 134, fn omitted). 

The Earliest Annals of Beleriand and the Later Annals of Beleriand also don’t say much about Dior’s reasoning: in both versions, the Sons of Fëanor send messages to Dior demanding the Silmaril, and in both versions, it seems like they’re ignored by Dior, and that they attack Doriath a year after that, with a battle being fought “on the east marches of Doriath” (HoME IV, p. 307; HoME V, p. 142). 

In both versions, Elwing has the Silmaril, and she’s taken to the Havens by Sindar faithful to Dior: “The maiden Elwing was saved by faithful Elves and taken to Sirion’s mouth, and with them they took the jewel and the necklace.” (HoME IV, p. 307) “The maiden Elwing was saved by faithful Elves, and they fled with her to the mouths of Sirion, and they took with them the jewel and the necklace, and Maidros found it not.” (HoME V, p. 142) 

Tale of Years

This text is substantially the same as the Annals, with the usual prior demand being ignored by Dior and the battle on the marches, with the difference that Elwing flees with her mother Lindis. 

“505 The sons of Fëanor hearing news of the Silmaril that it is in Doriath hold council. Maidros restrains his brethren, but a message is sent to Dior demanding the Jewel. Dior returns no answer.
506 Celegorn inflames the brethren, and they prepare an assault on Doriath. They come up at unawares in winter.
506–507 At Yule Dior fought the sons of Fëanor on the east marches of Doriath, and was slain. […] The Lady Lindis escaped with Elwing, and came hardly to Ossir, with the Necklace and the Jewel. Thence hearing the rumour she fled to the Havens of Sirion.” (HoME XI, p. 351) 

The published QS has this as Dior’s motivation for keeping the Silmaril: “Long did Dior gaze upon the Silmaril, which his father and mother had brought beyond hope out of the terror of Morgoth; and his grief was great that death had come upon them so soon. But the wise have said that the Silmaril hastened their end; for the flame of the beauty of Lúthien as she wore it was too bright for mortal lands.” (Sil, QS, ch. 22) This was written by Christopher Tolkien (AR, p. 210), but it’s based on the Tale of Years: “mayhap the Silmaril hastened their end, for the flame of the beauty of Lúthien as she wore it was too bright for mortal lands.” (HoME XI, p. 348) 

I find it notable that people at this point evidently believe that the Silmaril is dangerous for mortals and shortens their lifespan, but Dior, who is mortal, wears it anyway (and has his daughter wear it, I imagine). Dior’s reasons for keeping it boil down to pride, covetice and remembering his father/parents, even though at this point people are talking about how wearing the Silmaril led to his mother’s early death.  

Elwing 

The Sketch has no information on why Elwing wanted to keep the Silmaril; also note that at this point, this Silmaril’s story basically ends with Elwing throwing it in the sea. Eärendil doesn’t convince the Valar to intervene (instead, Ulmo does), and Eärendil later gets another Silmaril.

This changes in the Quenta Noldorinwa, of which there are two versions: 

• “The dwelling of Elwing at Sirion’s mouth, where still she possessed the Nauglafring and the glorious Silmaril, became known to the sons of Fëanor; and they gathered together from their wandering hunting-paths. But the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which fair Dior had been slain.” (HoME IV, p. 149–150) 
• “Upon the havens of Sirion new woe had fallen. The dwelling of Elwing there, where still she possessed the Nauglafring and the glorious Silmaril, became known unto the remaining sons of Fëanor, Maidros and Maglor and Damrod and Díriel; and they gathered together from their wandering hunting-paths, and messages of friendship and yet stern demand they sent unto Sirion. But Elwing and the folk of Sirion would not yield that jewel which Beren had won and Lúthien had worn, and for which Dior the Fair was slain; and least of all while Eärendel their lord was in the sea, for them seemed that in that jewel lay the gift of bliss and healing that had come upon their houses and their ships. […] And yet Maidros gained not the Silmaril, for Elwing seeing that all was lost and her child Elrond taken captive, eluded the host of Maidros, and with the Nauglafring upon her breast she cast herself into the sea, and perished as folk thought.” (HoME IV, p. 152–153, fn omitted)

That is, Elwing and her and Eärendil’s people do not want to return the Silmaril when the Sons of Fëanor demand it because: (1) Beren had stolen it, (2) Lúthien had worn it, (3) Dior had died for it, (4) they believed that it kept them in bliss and safe/healed. The last point is rather fascinating because keeping the Silmaril from the Sons of Fëanor is certainly not keeping them safe from the Sons of Fëanor. 

The subsequent Annals texts contain some significant differences from the QN texts. In particular, Maedhros and Maglor’s involvement in the Third Kinslaying dwindles to being present, and Maedhros forswears his oath for fifteen years. More important for present purposes, however, is what both texts have to say about why the people of Sirion didn’t give up the Silmaril when the Sons of Fëanor demanded it: 

• Earliest Annals of Beleriand: 210 “Maidros hears of the upspringing of Sirion’s Haven and that a Silmaril is there, but he forswears his oath.” (HoME IV, p. 308) 225 “Torment of Maidros and his brothers because of their oath. Damrod and Díriel resolve to win the Silmaril if Eärendel will not yield it. […] The folk of Sirion refused to give up the Silmaril in Eärendel’s absence, and they thought their joy and prosperity came of it.” (HoME IV, p. 308)
• Later Annals of Beleriand: “310 [510] Maidros learned of the upspringing of Sirion’s Haven, and that the Silmaril was there, but he forswore his oath.” (HoME V, p. 142) “325 [525] Torment fell upon Maidros and his brethren, because of their unfulfilled oath. Damrod and Díriel resolved to win the Silmaril, if Eärendel would not give it up willingly. […] The folk of Sirion refused to surrender the Silmaril, both because Eärendel was not there, and because they thought that their bliss and prosperity came from the possession of the gem.” (HoME V, p. 143)

That is, the main reason for not wanting to return the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor was because Eärendil (who has nothing to do with the Silmaril in the first place) was absent, and because the people believed that the Silmaril brought them “bliss and prosperity” (while Morgoth is ravaging Beleriand).  

Further thoughts 

At no point do any of these people ever desire or keep the Silmaril for higher reasons like knowing the Doom. For Thingol, it starts out as a murder weapon and turns into a greedy, covetous obsession that Melian, who does know enough about the Doom of the Silmaril to know that it will destroy Doriath and her loved ones, hates (he conveniently likes to forget why Beren and Lúthien nearly died to get it for him); for Dior, it’s pride, greed and remembering his father, and (mortal) Dior wears it even though it’s now believed that wearing it will hasten a mortal’s death (serious question, are the Silmarils radioactive?); for Elwing and the people of Sirion, it’s Beren and Lúthien, Dior’s death (at Celegorm’s hands), and believing that the Silmaril made them prosperous and blissful. 

And all of that really begs the question: why on earth didn’t they just spare themselves a ton of trouble by returning the Silmaril to the Sons of Fëanor? All these people know that the Sons of Fëanor swore a magically binding and compulsive oath concerning the Silmaril that now functions as a curse. Why is retaining the stolen jewel of Fëanor more important for Thingol, Dior and Elwing than keeping themselves and their kingdoms/peoples safe from a bunch of warlords who they all know are compelled to take it from them? Why didn’t they just all do what Melian counselled from the start? Why does no one ever listen to the wisest person in Beleriand? Why is Melian doomed to be Cassandra? 

Sources 

The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME II]. 

The Lays of Beleriand, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME III].

The Shaping of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME IV]. 

The Lost Road and Other Writings, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME V].

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

Arda Reconstructed: The Creation of the Published Silmarillion, Douglas Charles Kane, Lehigh University Press 2009 (softcover) [cited as: AR]. 

JRR Tolkien, Concerning the Hoard, image at https://www.jrrtolkien.it/2022/07/04/scoperto-manoscritto-che-cambia-il-silmarillion/ [cited as: Concerning the Hoard].

Reading Mrs Elton's first scene for the first time is like reading Mr Collins's introduction. Like can you finally STOP BRAGGING ABOUT *SOMEONE ELSE'S* HOUSE?!

Finwë isn’t spoken about enough, even though his choices and actions laid the groundwork for the later choices and actions of Fëanor and Fingolfin, and as such caused everything that went down in the First Age and after. Who says this? The Noldor: 

• “In those unhappy things which afterward came to pass and in which Fëanáro was a leader, many saw the effects of this breach in the house of Finwë, judging that if Finwë had endured his loss and been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Fëanáro would have been otherwise, and much sorrow and evil would never have been.” (HoME X, p. 239)
• “In those unhappy things which later came to pass, and in which Fëanor was the leader, many saw the effect of this breach in the house of Finwë, judging that if Finwë had endured his loss and had been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Fëanor would have been otherwise, and great sorrow and evil might have been prevented.” (HoME X, p. 262)

Anyway, on to the analysis. 

The idea that Finwë had two wives is relatively late, from after LOTR was written. Previously, Fëanor and Fingolfin had been (full) brothers. But then, in ca. 1950, Tolkien came up with the idea that Fëanor and Fingolfin had different mothers: Míriel and Indis. And that necessitated removing Fëanor’s mother from the equation somehow. 

Annals of Aman 

The earliest timeline with names was given in the AAm: Fëanor is born in Y.T. 1169, in 1170, “Míriel falls asleep and passes to Mandar”, and in 1172, there is the “Doom of Manwë concerning the espousals of the Eldar”. Subsequently, in 1185, “Finwë weds Indis of the Vanyar” (HoME X, p. 101), with Fingolfin being born in 1190 (HoME X, p. 92). 

That’s an incredibly short timeline. There are only two years between Míriel’s death and the Statute of Finwë and Míriel. And the Valar obviously didn’t just come up with that out of nowhere: it’s a recurrent theme that Finwë goes to the Valar and asks for a solution (a.k.a. dissolution). All of this while Finwë has a very young child. Charming. 

[I know that Years of the Trees aren’t the same length as Years of the Sun, but for the purposes of the AAm, it’s pretty obvious that in terms of maturity, the age of majority of fifty mentioned in LACE applies: after all, Finarfin marries at age fifty, HoME X, p. 93, Fingolfin has Turgon at age 110, HoME X, p. 106, sand Fëanor only really comes into his own skills-wise once he’s long over fifty Years of the Trees old, HoME X, p. 92. That is, Fëanor is absolutely still a child while all of that drama went down with Finwë and the Valar and Indis.]

Later Quenta Silmarillion 

There are three versions of this story in the Later QS, all of them rather similar in general; differences are mostly found in the details. 

First version

The story starts with Míriel exhausted from creating her son and from childbirth: “Now it is told that in the bearing of her son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body; and that after his birth she yearned for rest from the labour of living.” (HoME X, p. 205–206) Míriel specifically told Finwë, “Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanáro.” (HoME X, p. 206) She then went to Mandos. 

So how does Finwë react? 

“Finwë’s grief was great, and he gave to his son all the love that he had for Míriel; for Feänáro was like his mother in voice and countenance. Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager, and desiring to have more children to bring mirth into his house.” (HoME X, p. 206)

Lovely. Having a child with him just drained his wife of her life-force and will to live, and she told him that she could not have any more children, and what does Finwë want? Exactly, more children! 

After “some years” Finwë asks Manwë for a divorce, arguing, “I am bereaved; and alone among the Eldar I am without a wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and no daughter. Whereas Ingwë and Olwë beget many children in the bliss of Aman. Must I remain ever so? For I deem that Míriel will not return again ever from the house of Vairë.” (HoME X, p. 206) 

At this point, Finwë literally has a child, an actual very young child. He has a toddler, his wife only died a few years ago, and he’s already complaining to Manwë that he urgently needs to have more children of both sexes in the future? Why can’t he focus on his very real child while that very real child is still a child? 

The Valar set a ten-year waiting period to confirm that both parties consent to dissolution and remaining in Mandos forever (HoME X, p. 206–207). Three years after the end of the waiting period, Finwë marries Indis (HoME X, p. 207). 

Fëanor is clearly still underage and not independent when his father marries Indis and has children, plural, with her: “Fëanáro had no great love for Indis and her children, and as soon as he might he lived apart from them, being busy from early childhood upon the lore and craft in which he delighted” (HoME X, p. 207). And who can blame Fëanor for hating what happened? For him it only means the following: that Finwë and Indis doomed Míriel to this fate: “the one that is in the keeping of Mandos must there remain until the end of Arda, and shall not awake again or take bodily form.” (HoME X, p. 206) 

Second version

This version is longer and includes deliberations by the Valar. 

“But in the bearing of her first son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body, so that wellnigh all strength seemed to have passed from her. […] But Míriel said to Finwë: ‘Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Feänáro.’
Then Finwë was greatly grieved, for the Noldor were in the youth of their days and dwelt in the bliss of the Noontide of Aman, but were still few in number, and he desired to bring forth many children into that bliss. He said, therefore: ‘Surely there is healing in Aman? Here all weariness can find rest.’” (HoME X, p. 236) 

Míriel goes to Lórien after telling Finwë, “Rest now I must. Farewell, dear lord.” (HoME X, p. 236) Her exhausted spirit then goes to Mandos. 

Initially, Finwë grieves, but not for long, because he really needs to have more children asap, although at least he waits a few years more than in the previous versions before running to Manwë: 

“Finwë’s grief was great, and he went often to the gardens of Lorien and sitting beneath the silver willows beside the body of his wife he called her by her names. But it was of no avail, and he alone in all the Blessed Realm was bereaved and sorrowful. After a while he went to Lorien no more, for it did but increase his grief. All his love he gave to his son; for Fëanáro was like his mother in voice and countenance, and Finwë was to him both father and mother, and there was a double bond of love upon their hearts. Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager, and desiring to have more children to bring mirth into his house. [He spoke, therefore, to Manwë >] When, therefore, ten years had passed, he spoke to Manwë, saying: ‘Lord, behold! I am bereaved and solitary. Alone among the Eldar I have no wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and no daughter. Must I remain ever thus? [For I believe not that Míriel will return again >] For my heart warns me that Míriel will not return again from the house of Vairë while Arda lasts. Is there not healing of grief in Aman?’” (HoME X, p. 237) 

Míriel says that she does not want to return to life, and Finwë gets his dissolution, and then he goes on holiday (where is Fëanor, who is absolutely still a child at this point?!) once the obligatory ten-year waiting period is over, and meets Indis, and swiftly remarries: “[In the year following >] And after three years more Finwë took as second spouse Indis the fair; and she was in all ways unlike Míriel.” (HoME X, p. 237). 

So how did this second marriage go? 

“In this way came to pass ere long the wedding of Finwë and Indis, sister of Ingwë. In Indis was proved true indeed the saying that ‘the loss of one may be the gain of another.’ But this also she found true: ‘the house remembers the builder, though others may dwell in it after.’ For Finwë loved her well, and was glad, and she bore him children in whom he rejoiced, yet the shadow of Míriel did not depart from his heart, and Feanáro had the chief share of his thought.” (HoME X, p. 238) 

So Finwë really wanted more children, but also evidently still loved Míriel and felt massively guilty about his actions, and so he spent most of his time involved with Fëanor and thinking about Míriel. No wonder that Indis eventually left him, with Finwë saying, in a rare flash of insight, “But Indis parted from me without death. I had not seen her for many years, and when the Marrer smote me I was alone. She hath dear children to comfort her, and her love, I deem, is now most for Ingoldo. His father she may miss; but not the father of Fëanáro! But above all her heart now yearns for the halls of Ingwë and the peace of the Vanyar, far from the strife of the Noldor. Little comfort should I bring her, if I returned; and the lordship of the Noldor hath passed to my sons.” (HoME X, p. 249, fn omitted) 

As for Fëanor, “As soon as he might (and he was wellnigh full-grown ere Nolofinwë was born) he left his father’s house and lived apart from them [Indis and her children], giving all his heart and thought to the pursuit of lore and the practice of crafts.” (HoME X, p. 239) And that, by the way, means that he was the Elvish equivalent of a tween when all of this was happening. Stellar parenting. 

By the way, the discussion of the Valar is rather frank and pretty interesting. Just take Ulmo, who does see some fault in Míriel’s refusal to return, but specifically calls out Finwë’s selfishness: “Thus Finwë was aggrieved and claimed justice. But when he called her and she did not return, in only a few years he fell into despair. Herein lay his fault, and failing in Hope. But also he founded his claim mainly upon his desire for children, considering his own self and his loss more than the griefs that had befallen his wife: that was a failing in full love.” (HoME X, p. 243) Ulmo also highlights Finwë’s impatience and argues that it’s at least part of the reason why Míriel will not return, because she needed rest, but rather than rest, she got pestering even in Mandos: “But the fëa of Míriel hath not been left in peace, and by importuning its will hath been hardened; and in that resolve it must remain without change while Arda lasteth, if the Statute is declared. Thus the impatience of Finwë will close the door of life upon the fëa of his spouse. This is the greater fault. For it is more unnatural that one of the Eldar should remain for ever as fëa without body than that one should remain alive wedded but bereaved.” (HoME X, p. 243)

Seriously, to have a Vala calling you out for badgering your exhausted, depressed wife… 

(Vairë also later calls out how singular Finwë’s focus is the moment he sees Míriel again in Mandos: “Also he will consider not only Míriel and thee, but Indis and thy children, whom thou seemest to forget, pitying now Míriel only.” (HoME X, p. 249) Finwë then does the first selfless thing in ages and decides to remain in Mandos so that Míriel can be free.) 

Third version 

Again when Fëanor is born, Míriel is exhausted and says, “Never again shall I bear a child, for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanor.” (HoME X, p. 257) Finwë initially holds vigil by Míriel’s body, but stops because it brings him grief, and focuses on Fëanor, and of course he wants more children asap: “Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager; and he still desired to have more children to bring mirth into his house. When, therefore, twelve years had passed he went again to Manwë.” (HoME X, p. 258) He argues, “I am bereaved. Alone among the Eldar I have no wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and for no daughter. Whereas Ingwë and Olwë beget many children in the bliss of Aman. Must I remain ever so! For my heart warns me that Míriel will not return again ever from the house of Vairë.” (HoME X, p. 258) 

The Statute is issued and Manwë gives Finwë permission to remarry, but advises him not to do it, and certainly not hastily: “But this is permission, not counsel. For the severance cometh from the marring of Arda; and those who accept this permission accept the marring, whereas the bereaved who remain steadfast belong in spirit and will to Arda Unmarred. This is a grave matter upon which the fate of many may depend. Be not in haste!” (HoME X, p. 260) 

To which Finwë replies, “I am in no haste, My Lord, and my heart has no desire, save the hope that when this doom is made clear to Míriel, she may yet relent and set a term to my bereavement.” (HoME X, p. 260) 

Again, what Finwë wants is many more children, and he knows that Míriel will not have any more. 

Míriel declares that she will not return, and Mandos sets a twelve-year waiting period between the declaration and the “doom of disunion” (HoME X, p. 261). 

While all of this is going on, Fëanor is obviously still a child: “During that time Fëanor dwelt in the care of his father. Soon he began to show forth the skills in hand and mind of both Finwë and Míriel. As he grew from childhood he became ever more like Finwë in stature and countenance, but in mood he resembled Míriel rather.” (HoME X, p. 261) 

Only three years after this twelve-year waiting period is completed, Finwë marries Indis (HoME X, p. 261), and Fëanor moves out as soon as he can: “As soon as he might he lived apart from them, exploring the land of Aman, or busying himself with the lore and the crafts in which he delighted.” (HoME X, p. 262) 

And this Fëanor clearly does by spending as much time as possible alone away from home and marrying very early: “While still in early youth Fëanor wedded Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge. In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions in many journeys.” (HoME X, p. 272) 

And how did Finwë’s marriage go? “In one year from their meeting upon the Mountain Finwë, King of the Noldor, wedded Indis, sister of Ingwë; and the Vanyar and Noldor for the most part rejoiced. In Indis was first proved true the saying: The loss of one may be the gain of another; but this saying also she found true: The house remembers the builder, though others may dwell in it after. For Finwë loved her dearly, and was glad again; and she bore him five children whom he loved; yet the shadow of Míriel did not depart from the house of Finwë, nor from his heart; and of all whom he loved Fëanor had ever the chief share of his thought.” (HoME X, p. 262) 

The Shibboleth of Fëanor 

This very late text (after 1968) contains a very different story, because Míriel endures her weariness until Fëanor is an adult or thereabouts, and only then gives in to her exhaustion and goes to Mandos; additionally, the cause and order of events later on is switched. 

“Míriel’s death was of free will: she forsook her body and her fëa went to the Halls of Waiting, while her body lay as if asleep in a garden. She said that she was weary in body and spirit and desired peace. The cause of her weariness she believed to be the bearing of Fëanor, great in mind and body beyond the measure of the Eldar. Her weariness she had endured until he was full grown, but she could endure it no longer.
The Valar and all the Eldar were grieved by the sorrow of Finwë, but not dismayed: all things could be healed in Aman, and when they were rested her fëa and its body could be reunited and return to the joy of life in the Blessed Realm. But Míriel was reluctant, and to all the pleas of her husband and her kin that were reported to her, and to the solemn counsels of the Valar, she would say no more than ‘not yet’. Each time that she was approached she became more fixed in her determination, until at last she would listen no more, saying only: ‘I desire peace. Leave me in peace here! I will not return. That is my will.’
So the Valar were faced by the one thing that they could neither change nor heal: the free will of one of the Children of Eru, which it was unlawful for them to coerce – and in such a case useless, since force could not achieve its purpose. And after some years they were faced by another grave perplexity. When it became clear at last that Míriel would never of her own will return to life in the body within any span of time that could give him hope, Finwë’s sorrow became embittered. He forsook his long vigils by her sleeping body and sought to take up his own life again; but he wandered far and wide in loneliness and found no joy in anything that he did.” (HoME XII, p. 333–334) 

So again Finwë and everyone else including the Valar immediately begin badgering Míriel. The text spells out that that badgering was disastrous for her, because if eventually hardened her revolve. The timeline is pretty unclear, by the way—how many years passed between each step? 

Anyway, Finwë then meets Indis and wants to marry her, and only then does he go to Manwë for a divorce. “It was judged that Finwë’s bereavement was unjust, and by persisting in her refusal to return Míriel had forfeited all rights that she had in the case; for either she was now capable of accepting the healing of her body by the Valar, or else her fed was mortally sick and beyond their power, and she was indeed ‘dead’, no longer capable of becoming again a living member of the kindred of the Eldar.
‘So she must remain until the end of the world. For from the moment that Finwë and Indis are joined in marriage all future change and choice will be taken from her and she will never again be permitted to take bodily shape. Her present body will swiftly wither and pass away, and the Valar will not restore it. For none of the Eldar may have two wives both alive in the world.’ These were the words of Manwë, and an answer to the doubts that some had felt.” (HoME XII, p. 335)

How much time passed? Who knows. At least Fëanor is an adult in this version. 

Further thoughts 

I don’t think that the Shibboleth version works because it really doesn’t explain Fëanor sufficiently. I assume that in an effort to make Finwë appear less fickle and awful as a father, Tolkien decided that it would be better to not have him start a campaign for his remarriage while Fëanor is still a toddler or a tween, but it really doesn’t work with the story and the characters, both because Míriel’s absence during Fëanor’s childhood is a vital element to understanding him, and because Fëanor and Fingolfin being so far apart in age doesn’t really work (Fëanor being old enough to be Fingolfin’s father doesn’t fit any of the narrative texts, beginning with their rivalry and ending with the fact that Maedhros and Fingon need to be at least vaguely close in age). It’s also doesn’t fit the timeline in the Annals of Aman, and it’s just a weaker story on a personal level, more dragged-out and less painful for all involved. 

As for Finwë, after his death at Morgoth’s hands he says, “It is unlawful to have two wives, but one may love two women, each differently, and without diminishing one love by another.” (HoME X, p. 249) But honestly, I am not sure that he loved either of them for themselves, as opposed to their ability to bear him children (most of whom he neglected in Fëanor’s favour). 

Sources 

Morgoth’s Ring, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME X].

The Peoples of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XII].

Finwë isn’t spoken about enough, even though his choices and actions laid the groundwork for the later choices and actions of Fëanor and Fingolfin, and as such caused everything that went down in the First Age and after. Who says this? The Noldor: 

• “In those unhappy things which afterward came to pass and in which Fëanáro was a leader, many saw the effects of this breach in the house of Finwë, judging that if Finwë had endured his loss and been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Fëanáro would have been otherwise, and much sorrow and evil would never have been.” (HoME X, p. 239)
• “In those unhappy things which later came to pass, and in which Fëanor was the leader, many saw the effect of this breach in the house of Finwë, judging that if Finwë had endured his loss and had been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Fëanor would have been otherwise, and great sorrow and evil might have been prevented.” (HoME X, p. 262)

Anyway, on to the analysis. 

The idea that Finwë had two wives is relatively late, from after LOTR was written. Previously, Fëanor and Fingolfin had been (full) brothers. But then, in ca. 1950, Tolkien came up with the idea that Fëanor and Fingolfin had different mothers: Míriel and Indis. And that necessitated removing Fëanor’s mother from the equation somehow. 

Annals of Aman 

The earliest timeline with names was given in the AAm: Fëanor is born in Y.T. 1169, in 1170, “Míriel falls asleep and passes to Mandar”, and in 1172, there is the “Doom of Manwë concerning the espousals of the Eldar”. Subsequently, in 1185, “Finwë weds Indis of the Vanyar” (HoME X, p. 101), with Fingolfin being born in 1190 (HoME X, p. 92). 

That’s an incredibly short timeline. There are only two years between Míriel’s death and the Statute of Finwë and Míriel. And the Valar obviously didn’t just come up with that out of nowhere: it’s a recurrent theme that Finwë goes to the Valar and asks for a solution (a.k.a. dissolution). All of this while Finwë has a very young child. Charming. 

[I know that Years of the Trees aren’t the same length as Years of the Sun, but for the purposes of the AAm, it’s pretty obvious that in terms of maturity, the age of majority of fifty mentioned in LACE applies: after all, Finarfin marries at age fifty, HoME X, p. 93, Fingolfin has Turgon at age 110, HoME X, p. 106, sand Fëanor only really comes into his own skills-wise once he’s long over fifty Years of the Trees old, HoME X, p. 92. That is, Fëanor is absolutely still a child while all of that drama went down with Finwë and the Valar and Indis.]

Later Quenta Silmarillion 

There are three versions of this story in the Later QS, all of them rather similar in general; differences are mostly found in the details. 

First version

The story starts with Míriel exhausted from creating her son and from childbirth: “Now it is told that in the bearing of her son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body; and that after his birth she yearned for rest from the labour of living.” (HoME X, p. 205–206) Míriel specifically told Finwë, “Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanáro.” (HoME X, p. 206) She then went to Mandos. 

So how does Finwë react? 

“Finwë’s grief was great, and he gave to his son all the love that he had for Míriel; for Feänáro was like his mother in voice and countenance. Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager, and desiring to have more children to bring mirth into his house.” (HoME X, p. 206)

Lovely. Having a child with him just drained his wife of her life-force and will to live, and she told him that she could not have any more children, and what does Finwë want? Exactly, more children! 

After “some years” Finwë asks Manwë for a divorce, arguing, “I am bereaved; and alone among the Eldar I am without a wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and no daughter. Whereas Ingwë and Olwë beget many children in the bliss of Aman. Must I remain ever so? For I deem that Míriel will not return again ever from the house of Vairë.” (HoME X, p. 206) 

At this point, Finwë literally has a child, an actual very young child. He has a toddler, his wife only died a few years ago, and he’s already complaining to Manwë that he urgently needs to have more children of both sexes in the future? Why can’t he focus on his very real child while that very real child is still a child? 

The Valar set a ten-year waiting period to confirm that both parties consent to dissolution and remaining in Mandos forever (HoME X, p. 206–207). Three years after the end of the waiting period, Finwë marries Indis (HoME X, p. 207). 

Fëanor is clearly still underage and not independent when his father marries Indis and has children, plural, with her: “Fëanáro had no great love for Indis and her children, and as soon as he might he lived apart from them, being busy from early childhood upon the lore and craft in which he delighted” (HoME X, p. 207). And who can blame Fëanor for hating what happened? For him it only means the following: that Finwë and Indis doomed Míriel to this fate: “the one that is in the keeping of Mandos must there remain until the end of Arda, and shall not awake again or take bodily form.” (HoME X, p. 206) 

Second version

This version is longer and includes deliberations by the Valar. 

“But in the bearing of her first son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body, so that wellnigh all strength seemed to have passed from her. […] But Míriel said to Finwë: ‘Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Feänáro.’
Then Finwë was greatly grieved, for the Noldor were in the youth of their days and dwelt in the bliss of the Noontide of Aman, but were still few in number, and he desired to bring forth many children into that bliss. He said, therefore: ‘Surely there is healing in Aman? Here all weariness can find rest.’” (HoME X, p. 236) 

Míriel goes to Lórien after telling Finwë, “Rest now I must. Farewell, dear lord.” (HoME X, p. 236) Her exhausted spirit then goes to Mandos. 

Initially, Finwë grieves, but not for long, because he really needs to have more children asap, although at least he waits a few years more than in the previous versions before running to Manwë: 

“Finwë’s grief was great, and he went often to the gardens of Lorien and sitting beneath the silver willows beside the body of his wife he called her by her names. But it was of no avail, and he alone in all the Blessed Realm was bereaved and sorrowful. After a while he went to Lorien no more, for it did but increase his grief. All his love he gave to his son; for Fëanáro was like his mother in voice and countenance, and Finwë was to him both father and mother, and there was a double bond of love upon their hearts. Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager, and desiring to have more children to bring mirth into his house. [He spoke, therefore, to Manwë >] When, therefore, ten years had passed, he spoke to Manwë, saying: ‘Lord, behold! I am bereaved and solitary. Alone among the Eldar I have no wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and no daughter. Must I remain ever thus? [For I believe not that Míriel will return again >] For my heart warns me that Míriel will not return again from the house of Vairë while Arda lasts. Is there not healing of grief in Aman?’” (HoME X, p. 237) 

Míriel says that she does not want to return to life, and Finwë gets his dissolution, and then he goes on holiday (where is Fëanor, who is absolutely still a child at this point?!) once the obligatory ten-year waiting period is over, and meets Indis, and swiftly remarries: “[In the year following >] And after three years more Finwë took as second spouse Indis the fair; and she was in all ways unlike Míriel.” (HoME X, p. 237). 

So how did this second marriage go? 

“In this way came to pass ere long the wedding of Finwë and Indis, sister of Ingwë. In Indis was proved true indeed the saying that ‘the loss of one may be the gain of another.’ But this also she found true: ‘the house remembers the builder, though others may dwell in it after.’ For Finwë loved her well, and was glad, and she bore him children in whom he rejoiced, yet the shadow of Míriel did not depart from his heart, and Feanáro had the chief share of his thought.” (HoME X, p. 238) 

So Finwë really wanted more children, but also evidently still loved Míriel and felt massively guilty about his actions, and so he spent most of his time involved with Fëanor and thinking about Míriel. No wonder that Indis eventually left him, with Finwë saying, in a rare flash of insight, “But Indis parted from me without death. I had not seen her for many years, and when the Marrer smote me I was alone. She hath dear children to comfort her, and her love, I deem, is now most for Ingoldo. His father she may miss; but not the father of Fëanáro! But above all her heart now yearns for the halls of Ingwë and the peace of the Vanyar, far from the strife of the Noldor. Little comfort should I bring her, if I returned; and the lordship of the Noldor hath passed to my sons.” (HoME X, p. 249, fn omitted) 

As for Fëanor, “As soon as he might (and he was wellnigh full-grown ere Nolofinwë was born) he left his father’s house and lived apart from them [Indis and her children], giving all his heart and thought to the pursuit of lore and the practice of crafts.” (HoME X, p. 239) And that, by the way, means that he was the Elvish equivalent of a tween when all of this was happening. Stellar parenting. 

By the way, the discussion of the Valar is rather frank and pretty interesting. Just take Ulmo, who does see some fault in Míriel’s refusal to return, but specifically calls out Finwë’s selfishness: “Thus Finwë was aggrieved and claimed justice. But when he called her and she did not return, in only a few years he fell into despair. Herein lay his fault, and failing in Hope. But also he founded his claim mainly upon his desire for children, considering his own self and his loss more than the griefs that had befallen his wife: that was a failing in full love.” (HoME X, p. 243) Ulmo also highlights Finwë’s impatience and argues that it’s at least part of the reason why Míriel will not return, because she needed rest, but rather than rest, she got pestering even in Mandos: “But the fëa of Míriel hath not been left in peace, and by importuning its will hath been hardened; and in that resolve it must remain without change while Arda lasteth, if the Statute is declared. Thus the impatience of Finwë will close the door of life upon the fëa of his spouse. This is the greater fault. For it is more unnatural that one of the Eldar should remain for ever as fëa without body than that one should remain alive wedded but bereaved.” (HoME X, p. 243)

Seriously, to have a Vala calling you out for badgering your exhausted, depressed wife… 

(Vairë also later calls out how singular Finwë’s focus is the moment he sees Míriel again in Mandos: “Also he will consider not only Míriel and thee, but Indis and thy children, whom thou seemest to forget, pitying now Míriel only.” (HoME X, p. 249) Finwë then does the first selfless thing in ages and decides to remain in Mandos so that Míriel can be free.) 

Third version 

Again when Fëanor is born, Míriel is exhausted and says, “Never again shall I bear a child, for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanor.” (HoME X, p. 257) Finwë initially holds vigil by Míriel’s body, but stops because it brings him grief, and focuses on Fëanor, and of course he wants more children asap: “Yet Finwë was not content, being young and eager; and he still desired to have more children to bring mirth into his house. When, therefore, twelve years had passed he went again to Manwë.” (HoME X, p. 258) He argues, “I am bereaved. Alone among the Eldar I have no wife, and must hope for no sons save one, and for no daughter. Whereas Ingwë and Olwë beget many children in the bliss of Aman. Must I remain ever so! For my heart warns me that Míriel will not return again ever from the house of Vairë.” (HoME X, p. 258) 

The Statute is issued and Manwë gives Finwë permission to remarry, but advises him not to do it, and certainly not hastily: “But this is permission, not counsel. For the severance cometh from the marring of Arda; and those who accept this permission accept the marring, whereas the bereaved who remain steadfast belong in spirit and will to Arda Unmarred. This is a grave matter upon which the fate of many may depend. Be not in haste!” (HoME X, p. 260) 

To which Finwë replies, “I am in no haste, My Lord, and my heart has no desire, save the hope that when this doom is made clear to Míriel, she may yet relent and set a term to my bereavement.” (HoME X, p. 260) 

Again, what Finwë wants is many more children, and he knows that Míriel will not have any more. 

Míriel declares that she will not return, and Mandos sets a twelve-year waiting period between the declaration and the “doom of disunion” (HoME X, p. 261). 

While all of this is going on, Fëanor is obviously still a child: “During that time Fëanor dwelt in the care of his father. Soon he began to show forth the skills in hand and mind of both Finwë and Míriel. As he grew from childhood he became ever more like Finwë in stature and countenance, but in mood he resembled Míriel rather.” (HoME X, p. 261) 

Only three years after this twelve-year waiting period is completed, Finwë marries Indis (HoME X, p. 261), and Fëanor moves out as soon as he can: “As soon as he might he lived apart from them, exploring the land of Aman, or busying himself with the lore and the crafts in which he delighted.” (HoME X, p. 262) 

And this Fëanor clearly does by spending as much time as possible alone away from home and marrying very early: “While still in early youth Fëanor wedded Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge. In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were companions in many journeys.” (HoME X, p. 272) 

And how did Finwë’s marriage go? “In one year from their meeting upon the Mountain Finwë, King of the Noldor, wedded Indis, sister of Ingwë; and the Vanyar and Noldor for the most part rejoiced. In Indis was first proved true the saying: The loss of one may be the gain of another; but this saying also she found true: The house remembers the builder, though others may dwell in it after. For Finwë loved her dearly, and was glad again; and she bore him five children whom he loved; yet the shadow of Míriel did not depart from the house of Finwë, nor from his heart; and of all whom he loved Fëanor had ever the chief share of his thought.” (HoME X, p. 262) 

The Shibboleth of Fëanor 

This very late text (after 1968) contains a very different story, because Míriel endures her weariness until Fëanor is an adult or thereabouts, and only then gives in to her exhaustion and goes to Mandos; additionally, the cause and order of events later on is switched. 

“Míriel’s death was of free will: she forsook her body and her fëa went to the Halls of Waiting, while her body lay as if asleep in a garden. She said that she was weary in body and spirit and desired peace. The cause of her weariness she believed to be the bearing of Fëanor, great in mind and body beyond the measure of the Eldar. Her weariness she had endured until he was full grown, but she could endure it no longer.
The Valar and all the Eldar were grieved by the sorrow of Finwë, but not dismayed: all things could be healed in Aman, and when they were rested her fëa and its body could be reunited and return to the joy of life in the Blessed Realm. But Míriel was reluctant, and to all the pleas of her husband and her kin that were reported to her, and to the solemn counsels of the Valar, she would say no more than ‘not yet’. Each time that she was approached she became more fixed in her determination, until at last she would listen no more, saying only: ‘I desire peace. Leave me in peace here! I will not return. That is my will.’
So the Valar were faced by the one thing that they could neither change nor heal: the free will of one of the Children of Eru, which it was unlawful for them to coerce – and in such a case useless, since force could not achieve its purpose. And after some years they were faced by another grave perplexity. When it became clear at last that Míriel would never of her own will return to life in the body within any span of time that could give him hope, Finwë’s sorrow became embittered. He forsook his long vigils by her sleeping body and sought to take up his own life again; but he wandered far and wide in loneliness and found no joy in anything that he did.” (HoME XII, p. 333–334) 

So again Finwë and everyone else including the Valar immediately begin badgering Míriel. The text spells out that that badgering was disastrous for her, because if eventually hardened her revolve. The timeline is pretty unclear, by the way—how many years passed between each step? 

Anyway, Finwë then meets Indis and wants to marry her, and only then does he go to Manwë for a divorce. “It was judged that Finwë’s bereavement was unjust, and by persisting in her refusal to return Míriel had forfeited all rights that she had in the case; for either she was now capable of accepting the healing of her body by the Valar, or else her fed was mortally sick and beyond their power, and she was indeed ‘dead’, no longer capable of becoming again a living member of the kindred of the Eldar.
‘So she must remain until the end of the world. For from the moment that Finwë and Indis are joined in marriage all future change and choice will be taken from her and she will never again be permitted to take bodily shape. Her present body will swiftly wither and pass away, and the Valar will not restore it. For none of the Eldar may have two wives both alive in the world.’ These were the words of Manwë, and an answer to the doubts that some had felt.” (HoME XII, p. 335)

How much time passed? Who knows. At least Fëanor is an adult in this version. 

Further thoughts 

I don’t think that the Shibboleth version works because it really doesn’t explain Fëanor sufficiently. I assume that in an effort to make Finwë appear less fickle and awful as a father, Tolkien decided that it would be better to not have him start a campaign for his remarriage while Fëanor is still a toddler or a tween, but it really doesn’t work with the story and the characters, both because Míriel’s absence during Fëanor’s childhood is a vital element to understanding him, and because Fëanor and Fingolfin being so far apart in age doesn’t really work (Fëanor being old enough to be Fingolfin’s father doesn’t fit any of the narrative texts, beginning with their rivalry and ending with the fact that Maedhros and Fingon need to be at least vaguely close in age). It’s also doesn’t fit the timeline in the Annals of Aman, and it’s just a weaker story on a personal level, more dragged-out and less painful for all involved. 

As for Finwë, after his death at Morgoth’s hands he says, “It is unlawful to have two wives, but one may love two women, each differently, and without diminishing one love by another.” (HoME X, p. 249) But honestly, I am not sure that he loved either of them for themselves, as opposed to their ability to bear him children (most of whom he neglected in Fëanor’s favour). 

Sources 

Morgoth’s Ring, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME X].

The Peoples of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XII].

Volume II, ch. VIII. Does that mean that he didn’t keep horses for leisurely carriage-rides, or that he didn’t keep horses at all? Wouldn’t he have horses as a farmer for farm-work?
It reminded me of that passage in P&P where Jane asks for the carriage and Mrs. Bennet says that the horses are wanted on the farm. That is, they have horses, but the horses are occupied doing vital work. I’d assume it’s the same for someone as non-frivolous and prudent as Mr. Knightley?

And I know she's only 17 and not very intelligent, and I know that Emma is exerting some near overwhelming influence over her, but her total gullibility, coupled with Emma's own total arrogant ignorance, is incredibly frustrating right now.
Give me more Mr Knightley, please! Such a welcome breath of fresh air.

After creating the Elessar, a jewel, as a symbol of marriage and romantic love for LOTR, Tolkien found himself in a bit of a conundrum: where did it come from? 

1. The Elessar in LOTR 

Interestingly, the Elessar plays a dual role in LOTR itself, referring to the jewel itself and to Aragorn, who bears it. The jewel itself comes up repeatedly in LOTR, the first time in Bilbo’s Song of Eärendil: 

“Eärendil was a mariner that tarried in Arvernien; he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in; her sails he wove of silver fair, of silver were her lanterns made, her prow he fashioned like a swan, and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings, in chainéd rings he armoured him; his shining shield was scored with runes to ward all wounds and harm from him; his bow was made of dragon-horn, his arrows shorn of ebony, of silver was his habergeon, his scabbard of chalcedony; his sword of steel was valiant, of adamant his helmet tall, an eagle-plume upon his crest, upon his breast an emerald.” (LOTR, p. 233–234) 

Bilbo later explains the composition of the poem: “As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except that Aragorn insisted on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it important. I don’t know why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole thing rather above my head, and he said that if I had the cheek to make verses about Eärendil in the house of Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was right.” (LOTR, p. 237) 

When the Fellowship reaches Lothlórien, Galadriel gives Aragorn precisely such a green stone: “‘Yet maybe this will lighten your heart,’ said Galadriel; ‘for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land.’ Then she lifted from her lap a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring. ‘This stone I gave to Celebrían my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!’” (LOTR, p. 375) (Aragorn wears the “green stone” throughout the rest of the quest and when he becomes king, and as king he is known as King Elessar.) 

As part of a discussion of Noldor wedding customs, LACE explains what happened here between Aragorn and Galadriel: “Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride’s mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom’s father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the [wedding] feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen’s mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)” (HoME X, p. 211)

And once LOTR had been written, Tolkien began to think about where this jewel came from. 

2. Origin stories 

Unsurprisingly, there are quite a few wildly different origin stories in Tolkien’s post-LOTR writings. 

(a) Fingon and Maedhros 

In the Later QS, and after 14 November 1951 but no idea when precisely, Tolkien had Maedhros give the Elessar to Fingon. 

Just before Fëanor’s death: “At the end of this paragraph [§ 88] my father pencilled on the manuscript: ‘He [Fëanor] gives the green stone to Maidros’, but then noted that this was not in fact to be inserted” (HoME XI, p. 176). 

The final passage of § 88 of the QS reads: “But his sons coming rescued him and bore him back to Mithrim. There he died, but was not buried; for so fiery was his spirit that his body fell to ash as his spirit sped; and it has never again appeared upon earth nor left the realm of Mandos. And Fëanor with his last sight saw afar the peaks of Thangorodrim, greatest of the hills of Middle-earth, that towered above the fortress of Morgoth; and he cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and he laid it on his sons never to treat or parley with their foe.” (HoME V, p. 249) 

That is, it sounds like Tolkien wanted to have Fëanor give Maedhros the jewel just before his death, but likely decided against inserting this passage about the Elessar here because it wouldn’t have fit with the context (and it really would have been a bit distracting to end a paragraph about Fëanor’s epic and memorable fiery death with a note about some never-before-mentioned jewellery). 

But there is a second passage in the Later QS about the Elessar, and this one does not seem to have been slated for non-insertion: Maedhros giving the jewel to Fingon after being rescued. Concerning § 97 of the QS (= Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros from Thangorodrim), Christopher Tolkien writes: “A new page in the QS manuscript begins with the opening of this paragraph, and at the top of the page my father pencilled: ‘The Green Stone of Fëanor given by Maidros to Fingon.’ This can hardly be other than a reference to the Elessar that came in the end to Aragorn; cf the note given under §88 above referring to Fëanor’s gift at his death of the Green Stone to Maidros. It is clear, I think, that my father was at this time pondering the previous history of the Elessar, which had emerged in The Lord of the Rings; for his later ideas on its origin see Unfinished Tales pp. 248–52.” (HoME XI, p. 176–177) 

(By the way, the history of the revisions of the second part of the QS (that is, the part printed in HoME XI) is incredibly opaque, and I honestly have no idea why or when Tolkien did any of these revisions. It would be great to have access to this page of the QS manuscript and LQ 2 typescript. I assume the two notes about the Elessar aren’t too late, though, because the name used is still Maidros (later texts have Maedros).) 

By the way, I find it notable that A Reader’s Companion, p. 337–338, doesn’t reference this origin story, even though it was the one Tolkien had in his head first after writing LOTR, but rather only refers to the origin stories in the essay The Elessar published in Unfinished Tales. 

(b) The Elessar (Unfinished Tales) 

Let’s start with some dating, which is about as opaque as that of the Later QS passages above. The essay The Elessar is “a very rough manuscript of four pages […] in the first stage of composition” (UT, p. 321). It uses the name Finarfin (not Finrod) for Galadriel’s father and Finwë’s third son, but even that doesn’t give us a clear answer as to when it was written, given that the Grey Annals already seem to include a reference to Felagund = Finrod. As Christopher Tolkien comments, “The naming of Inglor ‘Finrod’ was perhaps no more than a slip without significance; but in view of the occurrence of ‘Finrod Inglor the Fair’ in a text associated with drafting for Aragorn’s story on Weathertop (VI.187–8) it seems possible that my father had considered the shifting of the names (whereby Inglor became Finrod and Finrod his father became Finarfin) long before their appearance in print in the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings.” (HoME XI, p. 130–131) 

Anyway, back to The Elessar: Christopher Tolkien believes that “it was probably written at about the same time, or a little earlier” compared to Concerning Galadriel and Celeborn (UT, p. 325). So when was that written? Who knows. This text “is a short and hasty outline, very roughly composed” (UT, p. 301). Galadriel’s ban from Valinor (a late concept) is not mentioned, Galadriel met Celeborn in Doriath (in later versions, from 1968 on, she met him in Alqualondë), and Amroth is the son of Galadriel and Celeborn (cf UT, p. 301–302; Tolkien later rejected this parentage for Amroth in or after 1969, see UT, p. 310–310). The text itself was written on “Oxford college documents dated 1955” (NoME, p. 346). Hostetter does not try to date it either. 

That is, nobody has any idea how to date The Elessar. A Reader’s Companion, p. 337, side-steps the issue and just says that it was written “At some time after the publication of The Lord of The Rings”. In conclusion, I have no idea when either the Later QS passages or The Elessar were written, only that Christopher Tolkien believes that The Elessar was written last. 

Anyway, let’s get to what The Elessar actually says. It presents various versions of the backstory of the Elessar (singular or plural), which are: 

(i) Enerdhil and Idril (one Elessar, from Gondolin) 

Enerdhil is a jewel-smith from Gondolin who is never mentioned again in any other writings, and who randomly and out of nowhere creates a Silmaril with magical healing powers: “Enerdhil loved all green things that grew, and his greatest joy was to see the sunlight through the leaves of trees. And it came into his heart to make a jewel within which the clear light of the sun should be imprisoned, but the jewel should be green as leaves. And he made this thing, and even the Noldor marvelled at it. For it is said that those who looked through this stone saw things that were withered or burned healed again or as they were in the grace of their youth, and that the hands of one who held it brought to all that they touched healing from hurt. This gem Enerdhil gave to Idril the King’s daughter, and she wore it upon her breast; and so it was saved from the burning of Gondolin.” (UT, p. 321–322) Idril then leaves the Elessar with Eärendil when she sets sail, and Eärendil wears it when he sails to Valinor. 

Notably, only the stone is described; it does not seem to have been set in a silver eagle yet, see e.g. Eärendil’s first memory: “and his first memory of Middle-earth was the green stone above [his mother Idril’s] breast, as she sang above his grade while Gondolin was still in flower.” (UT, p. 322)

A long time after that, the Elessar reappeared in Middle-earth, and “some say” that, when Gandalf arrived, he brought the Elessar of Gondolin with him. He later gave it to Galadriel, telling her that it was “from Yavanna”, but adding: “But it is not for you to possess. You shall hand it on when the time comes. For before you grow weary, and at last forsake Middle-earth one shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called.” (UT, p. 322–323). 

Elessar, by the way, is Quenya and means Elf-stone or Star-stone (https://eldamo.org/content/words/word-3157387873.html). 

(ii) Enerdhil, Celebrimbor and Galadriel (two Elessars) 

The Elessar is an exploratory essay, so another sub-version to this story (with Enerdhil creating an Elessar in Gondolin) is presented: Celebrimbor, in this version also a jewel-smith from Gondolin and not a Fëanorian, is in love with Galadriel, and, imitating his colleague Enerdhil’s previous work, he creates a second Elessar to give to Galadriel: “‘That is its fate, I deem,’ said Celebrimbor. ‘But you know that I love you (though you turned to Celeborn of the Trees), and for that love I will do what I can, if haply by my art your grief can be lessened.’ But he did not say to Galadriel that he himself was of Gondolin long ago, and a friend of Enerdhil, though his friend in most things outrivalled him. […] Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings. Wielding the Elessar all things grew fair about Galadriel, until the coming of the Shadow to the Forest. But afterwards when Nenya, chief of the Three, was sent to her by Celebrimbor, she needed it (as she thought) no more, and she gave it to Celebrían her daughter, and so it came to Arwen and to Aragorn who was called Elessar.” (UT, p. 324) 

The fact that it was Celebrimbor’s idea to set the Elessar in a silver eagle is implicitly confirmed here: “Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings.” (UT, p. 324) That is, before this point, “The Elessar” only referred to the green stone, until Celebrimbor decided to set it in a silver eagle. 

(iii) Both Elessars created by Celebrimbor 

The essay then presents a completely different third option, which has nothing to do with Enerdhil: “The Elessar was made in Gondolin by Celebrimbor, and so came to Idril and so to Eärendil. But that passed away. But the second Elessar was made also by Celebrimbor in Eregion at the request of the Lady Galadriel (whom he loved), and it was not under the One, being made before Sauron rose again.” (UT, p. 325) It is unclear whether both were set in a silver eagle, and it is not said why. 

3. Why an eagle? 

So we have four post-LOTR versions of the Elessar’s backstory with fuzzy dating and no decision by Tolkien what he actually wanted/what is supposed to be true in universe: 

1. Maedhros gave the green stone to Fingon after rescuing him from Thangorodrim. 
2. One Elessar: Enerdhil → Idril → Eärendil → Yavanna → Gandalf → Galadriel → (implied: directly to) Aragorn. Note that this implicit sequence of events contradicts what Galadriel said in LOTR (= that she gave the Elessar to Celebrían first). 
3. Two Elessars: 1. Enerdhil → Idril → Eärendil (only the green stone, no silver eagle). 2. Celebrimbor (makes second Elessar and sets it in a silver eagle for unstated reasons) → Galadriel → Celebrían → Aragorn and Arwen (directly?). 
4. Two Elessars, both created by Celebrimbor, the second made at Galadriel’s request (no mention of the idea that it’s set in a silver eagle).

So why is the green stone that Galadriel gives Aragorn (note that Bilbo’s poem doesn’t mention a silver eagle yet) set in a silver eagle? 

A few options for the different versions come to mind: 

1. Fingon rescues Maedhros with the help of Thorondor, king of the Great Eagles. The silver eagle makes the most immediate sense if you take this story (but the silver eagle itself is not mentioned in the very short note by Tolkien on the subject). It’s rather unclear how this Elessar would have ended up in Eärendil’s hands after Fingon’s death and then in Third Age Lothlórien. Maybe Fingon (just before his death) → Turgon → Idril → Eärendil?
2. Idril is princess of Gondolin, and the Great Eagles protected Gondolin specifically (they had their eyries nearby) (but the silver eagle itself doesn’t seem to be part of the jewel in Gondolin yet). 
3. I don’t have the slightest idea why Celebrimbor would set a jewel for Galadriel, which is meant to be a romantic gift to her, in a silver eagle. 
4. Galadriel asked Celebrimbor (who loved her) to make it: Might Galadriel have had some Aragorn-related foresight and had it made specifically for Aragorn as a bridal gift? Because Aragorn called himself Thorongil, and that means “Eagle of the Star” (https://eldamo.org/content/words/word-788896023.html). However, that’s some extremely far-sighted foresight, like five thousand years away. That’s ridiculous and extremely specific even by Galadriel’s family’s standards. And it wouldn’t explain why Galadriel gave it to Celebrían first, as she says in LOTR. (It’s also weird to give a romantic gift to you by another man to your daughter as a wedding gift.)

4. Addendum on the “why” 

I think that the reason why Tolkien struggled with this and devised so many origin stories (without picking one as “historical” even in the Elessar essay, by the way) is that the Elessar from LOTR just doesn’t fit in universe. In LOTR, Galadriel says that it had been given to her to give it to Aragorn (and it’s pretty clearly implied to have been given to her for that purpose by Arwen), it is described as “a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring” (LOTR, p. 375), and somehow, Eärendil had it or something like it at some point. 

Tolkien didn’t like changing things that had appeared in LOTR, he considered himself pretty bound by stuff he had intentionally and knowingly published, but this combination of factors is just very usual. Green stone that shines with its own light (without being hit by sunlight, much like a Silmaril!), set in a silver eagle, and Eärendil had it in his possession in the late First Age? 

I imagine that Tolkien’s thought process was this: 

1. A stone that shines with its own inner light → Fëanor must have created it. 
2. Silver eagle + it ended up in Fingolfin’s branch in the F.A., not Fëanor’s → Maedhros and Fingon! Perfect solution! 
3. But why would it be green, though? Fëanor’s colour was red, and Fingon’s was blue. None of the House of Finwë had green as their official colour. 
4. And how did it end up with Eärendil after Fingon’s very violent death on the battlefield? 
5. Let’s start again from a different perspective: If Eärendil had it, it must have been in Gondolin. That even fits the eagle motif at a stretch! 
6. But how did it return to Middle-earth and Galadriel, then? 
7. And how does it shine with an inner light? Since when can a random smith from Gondolin, Enerdhil, who is never mentioned in the Quenta and who is not a Finwëan, make what boils down to a Silmaril? 
8. Celebrimbor, Fëanor 2.0, would be more likely to be able to create a jewel that shines with its own inner light. 
9. But again, why is it green? And why is it set in a silver eagle? That doesn’t make sense for Celebrimbor either. 
10. Go back to point 1.; repeat.

Basically, I imagine that the process of exploration would have been simpler if the jewel had been red/blue/purple, or if it hadn’t been set in a silver eagle, or if it didn’t have its own inner light, or if Eärendil had never been implied to have it in LOTR. 

Sources 

The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien, HarperCollins 2007 (softcover) [cited as: LOTR].  

The Lost Road and Other Writings, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME V].

Morgoth’s Ring, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME X]. 

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

Unfinished Tales of Númenor & Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2014  (softcover) [cited as: UT]. 

The Nature of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, ed Carl F Hostetter, HarperCollins 2021 (hardcover) [cited as: NoME].

The Lord of the Rings, A Reader’s Companion, Wayne G. Hammond and Christina Scull, HarperCollins  2014 (hardcover) [cited as: A Reader’s Companion]. 

After creating the Elessar, a jewel, as a symbol of marriage and romantic love for LOTR, Tolkien found himself in a bit of a conundrum: where did it come from? 

1. The Elessar in LOTR 

Interestingly, the Elessar plays a dual role in LOTR itself, referring to the jewel itself and to Aragorn, who bears it. The jewel itself comes up repeatedly in LOTR, the first time in Bilbo’s Song of Eärendil: 

“Eärendil was a mariner that tarried in Arvernien; he built a boat of timber felled in Nimbrethil to journey in; her sails he wove of silver fair, of silver were her lanterns made, her prow he fashioned like a swan, and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings, in chainéd rings he armoured him; his shining shield was scored with runes to ward all wounds and harm from him; his bow was made of dragon-horn, his arrows shorn of ebony, of silver was his habergeon, his scabbard of chalcedony; his sword of steel was valiant, of adamant his helmet tall, an eagle-plume upon his crest, upon his breast an emerald.” (LOTR, p. 233–234) 

Bilbo later explains the composition of the poem: “As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except that Aragorn insisted on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it important. I don’t know why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole thing rather above my head, and he said that if I had the cheek to make verses about Eärendil in the house of Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was right.” (LOTR, p. 237) 

When the Fellowship reaches Lothlórien, Galadriel gives Aragorn precisely such a green stone: “‘Yet maybe this will lighten your heart,’ said Galadriel; ‘for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land.’ Then she lifted from her lap a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring. ‘This stone I gave to Celebrían my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!’” (LOTR, p. 375) (Aragorn wears the “green stone” throughout the rest of the quest and when he becomes king, and as king he is known as King Elessar.) 

As part of a discussion of Noldor wedding customs, LACE explains what happened here between Aragorn and Galadriel: “Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride’s mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom’s father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the [wedding] feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen’s mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)” (HoME X, p. 211)

And once LOTR had been written, Tolkien began to think about where this jewel came from. 

2. Origin stories 

Unsurprisingly, there are quite a few wildly different origin stories in Tolkien’s post-LOTR writings. 

(a) Fingon and Maedhros 

In the Later QS, and after 14 November 1951 but no idea when precisely, Tolkien had Maedhros give the Elessar to Fingon. 

Just before Fëanor’s death: “At the end of this paragraph [§ 88] my father pencilled on the manuscript: ‘He [Fëanor] gives the green stone to Maidros’, but then noted that this was not in fact to be inserted” (HoME XI, p. 176). 

The final passage of § 88 of the QS reads: “But his sons coming rescued him and bore him back to Mithrim. There he died, but was not buried; for so fiery was his spirit that his body fell to ash as his spirit sped; and it has never again appeared upon earth nor left the realm of Mandos. And Fëanor with his last sight saw afar the peaks of Thangorodrim, greatest of the hills of Middle-earth, that towered above the fortress of Morgoth; and he cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and he laid it on his sons never to treat or parley with their foe.” (HoME V, p. 249) 

That is, it sounds like Tolkien wanted to have Fëanor give Maedhros the jewel just before his death, but likely decided against inserting this passage about the Elessar here because it wouldn’t have fit with the context (and it really would have been a bit distracting to end a paragraph about Fëanor’s epic and memorable fiery death with a note about some never-before-mentioned jewellery). 

But there is a second passage in the Later QS about the Elessar, and this one does not seem to have been slated for non-insertion: Maedhros giving the jewel to Fingon after being rescued. Concerning § 97 of the QS (= Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros from Thangorodrim), Christopher Tolkien writes: “A new page in the QS manuscript begins with the opening of this paragraph, and at the top of the page my father pencilled: ‘The Green Stone of Fëanor given by Maidros to Fingon.’ This can hardly be other than a reference to the Elessar that came in the end to Aragorn; cf the note given under §88 above referring to Fëanor’s gift at his death of the Green Stone to Maidros. It is clear, I think, that my father was at this time pondering the previous history of the Elessar, which had emerged in The Lord of the Rings; for his later ideas on its origin see Unfinished Tales pp. 248–52.” (HoME XI, p. 176–177) 

(By the way, the history of the revisions of the second part of the QS (that is, the part printed in HoME XI) is incredibly opaque, and I honestly have no idea why or when Tolkien did any of these revisions. It would be great to have access to this page of the QS manuscript and LQ 2 typescript. I assume the two notes about the Elessar aren’t too late, though, because the name used is still Maidros (later texts have Maedros).) 

By the way, I find it notable that A Reader’s Companion, p. 337–338, doesn’t reference this origin story, even though it was the one Tolkien had in his head first after writing LOTR, but rather only refers to the origin stories in the essay The Elessar published in Unfinished Tales. 

(b) The Elessar (Unfinished Tales) 

Let’s start with some dating, which is about as opaque as that of the Later QS passages above. The essay The Elessar is “a very rough manuscript of four pages […] in the first stage of composition” (UT, p. 321). It uses the name Finarfin (not Finrod) for Galadriel’s father and Finwë’s third son, but even that doesn’t give us a clear answer as to when it was written, given that the Grey Annals already seem to include a reference to Felagund = Finrod. As Christopher Tolkien comments, “The naming of Inglor ‘Finrod’ was perhaps no more than a slip without significance; but in view of the occurrence of ‘Finrod Inglor the Fair’ in a text associated with drafting for Aragorn’s story on Weathertop (VI.187–8) it seems possible that my father had considered the shifting of the names (whereby Inglor became Finrod and Finrod his father became Finarfin) long before their appearance in print in the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings.” (HoME XI, p. 130–131) 

Anyway, back to The Elessar: Christopher Tolkien believes that “it was probably written at about the same time, or a little earlier” compared to Concerning Galadriel and Celeborn (UT, p. 325). So when was that written? Who knows. This text “is a short and hasty outline, very roughly composed” (UT, p. 301). Galadriel’s ban from Valinor (a late concept) is not mentioned, Galadriel met Celeborn in Doriath (in later versions, from 1968 on, she met him in Alqualondë), and Amroth is the son of Galadriel and Celeborn (cf UT, p. 301–302; Tolkien later rejected this parentage for Amroth in or after 1969, see UT, p. 310–310). The text itself was written on “Oxford college documents dated 1955” (NoME, p. 346). Hostetter does not try to date it either. 

That is, nobody has any idea how to date The Elessar. A Reader’s Companion, p. 337, side-steps the issue and just says that it was written “At some time after the publication of The Lord of The Rings”. In conclusion, I have no idea when either the Later QS passages or The Elessar were written, only that Christopher Tolkien believes that The Elessar was written last. 

Anyway, let’s get to what The Elessar actually says. It presents various versions of the backstory of the Elessar (singular or plural), which are: 

(i) Enerdhil and Idril (one Elessar, from Gondolin) 

Enerdhil is a jewel-smith from Gondolin who is never mentioned again in any other writings, and who randomly and out of nowhere creates a Silmaril with magical healing powers: “Enerdhil loved all green things that grew, and his greatest joy was to see the sunlight through the leaves of trees. And it came into his heart to make a jewel within which the clear light of the sun should be imprisoned, but the jewel should be green as leaves. And he made this thing, and even the Noldor marvelled at it. For it is said that those who looked through this stone saw things that were withered or burned healed again or as they were in the grace of their youth, and that the hands of one who held it brought to all that they touched healing from hurt. This gem Enerdhil gave to Idril the King’s daughter, and she wore it upon her breast; and so it was saved from the burning of Gondolin.” (UT, p. 321–322) Idril then leaves the Elessar with Eärendil when she sets sail, and Eärendil wears it when he sails to Valinor. 

Notably, only the stone is described; it does not seem to have been set in a silver eagle yet, see e.g. Eärendil’s first memory: “and his first memory of Middle-earth was the green stone above [his mother Idril’s] breast, as she sang above his grade while Gondolin was still in flower.” (UT, p. 322)

A long time after that, the Elessar reappeared in Middle-earth, and “some say” that, when Gandalf arrived, he brought the Elessar of Gondolin with him. He later gave it to Galadriel, telling her that it was “from Yavanna”, but adding: “But it is not for you to possess. You shall hand it on when the time comes. For before you grow weary, and at last forsake Middle-earth one shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called.” (UT, p. 322–323). 

Elessar, by the way, is Quenya and means Elf-stone or Star-stone (https://eldamo.org/content/words/word-3157387873.html). 

(ii) Enerdhil, Celebrimbor and Galadriel (two Elessars) 

The Elessar is an exploratory essay, so another sub-version to this story (with Enerdhil creating an Elessar in Gondolin) is presented: Celebrimbor, in this version also a jewel-smith from Gondolin and not a Fëanorian, is in love with Galadriel, and, imitating his colleague Enerdhil’s previous work, he creates a second Elessar to give to Galadriel: “‘That is its fate, I deem,’ said Celebrimbor. ‘But you know that I love you (though you turned to Celeborn of the Trees), and for that love I will do what I can, if haply by my art your grief can be lessened.’ But he did not say to Galadriel that he himself was of Gondolin long ago, and a friend of Enerdhil, though his friend in most things outrivalled him. […] Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings. Wielding the Elessar all things grew fair about Galadriel, until the coming of the Shadow to the Forest. But afterwards when Nenya, chief of the Three, was sent to her by Celebrimbor, she needed it (as she thought) no more, and she gave it to Celebrían her daughter, and so it came to Arwen and to Aragorn who was called Elessar.” (UT, p. 324) 

The fact that it was Celebrimbor’s idea to set the Elessar in a silver eagle is implicitly confirmed here: “Radiant nonetheless was the Elessar of Celebrimbor; and he set it within a great brooch of silver in the likeness of an eagle rising upon outspread wings.” (UT, p. 324) That is, before this point, “The Elessar” only referred to the green stone, until Celebrimbor decided to set it in a silver eagle. 

(iii) Both Elessars created by Celebrimbor 

The essay then presents a completely different third option, which has nothing to do with Enerdhil: “The Elessar was made in Gondolin by Celebrimbor, and so came to Idril and so to Eärendil. But that passed away. But the second Elessar was made also by Celebrimbor in Eregion at the request of the Lady Galadriel (whom he loved), and it was not under the One, being made before Sauron rose again.” (UT, p. 325) It is unclear whether both were set in a silver eagle, and it is not said why. 

3. Why an eagle? 

So we have four post-LOTR versions of the Elessar’s backstory with fuzzy dating and no decision by Tolkien what he actually wanted/what is supposed to be true in universe: 

1. Maedhros gave the green stone to Fingon after rescuing him from Thangorodrim. 
2. One Elessar: Enerdhil → Idril → Eärendil → Yavanna → Gandalf → Galadriel → (implied: directly to) Aragorn. Note that this implicit sequence of events contradicts what Galadriel said in LOTR (= that she gave the Elessar to Celebrían first). 
3. Two Elessars: 1. Enerdhil → Idril → Eärendil (only the green stone, no silver eagle). 2. Celebrimbor (makes second Elessar and sets it in a silver eagle for unstated reasons) → Galadriel → Celebrían → Aragorn and Arwen (directly?). 
4. Two Elessars, both created by Celebrimbor, the second made at Galadriel’s request (no mention of the idea that it’s set in a silver eagle).

So why is the green stone that Galadriel gives Aragorn (note that Bilbo’s poem doesn’t mention a silver eagle yet) set in a silver eagle? 

A few options for the different versions come to mind: 

1. Fingon rescues Maedhros with the help of Thorondor, king of the Great Eagles. The silver eagle makes the most immediate sense if you take this story (but the silver eagle itself is not mentioned in the very short note by Tolkien on the subject). It’s rather unclear how this Elessar would have ended up in Eärendil’s hands after Fingon’s death and then in Third Age Lothlórien. Maybe Fingon (just before his death) → Turgon → Idril → Eärendil?
2. Idril is princess of Gondolin, and the Great Eagles protected Gondolin specifically (they had their eyries nearby) (but the silver eagle itself doesn’t seem to be part of the jewel in Gondolin yet). 
3. I don’t have the slightest idea why Celebrimbor would set a jewel for Galadriel, which is meant to be a romantic gift to her, in a silver eagle. 
4. Galadriel asked Celebrimbor (who loved her) to make it: Might Galadriel have had some Aragorn-related foresight and had it made specifically for Aragorn as a bridal gift? Because Aragorn called himself Thorongil, and that means “Eagle of the Star” (https://eldamo.org/content/words/word-788896023.html). However, that’s some extremely far-sighted foresight, like five thousand years away. That’s ridiculous and extremely specific even by Galadriel’s family’s standards. And it wouldn’t explain why Galadriel gave it to Celebrían first, as she says in LOTR. (It’s also weird to give a romantic gift to you by another man to your daughter as a wedding gift.)

4. Addendum on the “why” 

I think that the reason why Tolkien struggled with this and devised so many origin stories (without picking one as “historical” even in the Elessar essay, by the way) is that the Elessar from LOTR just doesn’t fit in universe. In LOTR, Galadriel says that it had been given to her to give it to Aragorn (and it’s pretty clearly implied to have been given to her for that purpose by Arwen), it is described as “a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings; and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the leaves of spring” (LOTR, p. 375), and somehow, Eärendil had it or something like it at some point. 

Tolkien didn’t like changing things that had appeared in LOTR, he considered himself pretty bound by stuff he had intentionally and knowingly published, but this combination of factors is just very usual. Green stone that shines with its own light (without being hit by sunlight, much like a Silmaril!), set in a silver eagle, and Eärendil had it in his possession in the late First Age? 

I imagine that Tolkien’s thought process was this: 

1. A stone that shines with its own inner light → Fëanor must have created it. 
2. Silver eagle + it ended up in Fingolfin’s branch in the F.A., not Fëanor’s → Maedhros and Fingon! Perfect solution! 
3. But why would it be green, though? Fëanor’s colour was red, and Fingon’s was blue. None of the House of Finwë had green as their official colour. 
4. And how did it end up with Eärendil after Fingon’s very violent death on the battlefield? 
5. Let’s start again from a different perspective: If Eärendil had it, it must have been in Gondolin. That even fits the eagle motif at a stretch! 
6. But how did it return to Middle-earth and Galadriel, then? 
7. And how does it shine with an inner light? Since when can a random smith from Gondolin, Enerdhil, who is never mentioned in the Quenta and who is not a Finwëan, make what boils down to a Silmaril? 
8. Celebrimbor, Fëanor 2.0, would be more likely to be able to create a jewel that shines with its own inner light. 
9. But again, why is it green? And why is it set in a silver eagle? That doesn’t make sense for Celebrimbor either. 
10. Go back to point 1.; repeat.

Basically, I imagine that the process of exploration would have been simpler if the jewel had been red/blue/purple, or if it hadn’t been set in a silver eagle, or if it didn’t have its own inner light, or if Eärendil had never been implied to have it in LOTR. 

Sources 

The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien, HarperCollins 2007 (softcover) [cited as: LOTR].  

The Lost Road and Other Writings, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME V].

Morgoth’s Ring, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME X]. 

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

Unfinished Tales of Númenor & Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2014  (softcover) [cited as: UT]. 

The Nature of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, ed Carl F Hostetter, HarperCollins 2021 (hardcover) [cited as: NoME].

The Lord of the Rings, A Reader’s Companion, Wayne G. Hammond and Christina Scull, HarperCollins  2014 (hardcover) [cited as: A Reader’s Companion]. 

The name, I mean. Or rather the spelling. He started out as Maidros and became Maedros at some point in the 1950s. There are dozens of later mentions of Maedros in HoME X, XI and XII, but only two (!) of Maedhros, one in an alteration to a footnote (!) to the Shibboleth of Fëanor, and the other in a late emendation of a single mention in the Quenta. So why did Christopher Tolkien choose Maedhros?

The name, I mean. Or rather the spelling. He started out as Maidros and became Maedros at some point in the 1950s. There are dozens of later mentions of Maedros in HoME X, XI and XII, but only two (!) of Maedhros, one in an alteration to a footnote (!) to the Shibboleth of Fëanor, and the other in a late emendation of a single mention in the Quenta. So why did Christopher Tolkien choose Maedhros?

The question why Thingol set Beren the impossible task of stealing and bringing him a Silmaril as bride-price for Lúthien has been discussed recently, but I don’t think that there’s much room for interpretation: Thingol definitely intended to kill Beren. 

Sure, Thingol is also notoriously greedy and hates the Noldor, so of course he wants Fëanor’s jewels (his “greed” is explicitly referred to in HoME IV, p. 116), but mainly, he wants to kill Beren, and he needs to use a roundabout way because he unfortunately just swore to his daughter that he would not murder her boyfriend. 

Tale of Tinúviel 

In this extremely early version (Beren is still a Gnome) we aren’t given a reason why Thingol demands a Silmaril yet (probably mockery), but trying to steal the Silmarils from Morgoth (“Melko”) already means certain death, and everyone including Beren knows this. The people of Thingol take Thingol’s demand for an “uncouth jest” (HoME II, p. 13), but for Lúthien, it’s dead serious: “‘’Twas ill done, O my father,’ she cried, ‘to send one to his death with thy sorry jesting – for now methinks he will attempt the deed, being maddened by thy scorn, and Melko will slay him, and none will look ever again with such love upon my dancing.’” (HoME II, p. 14) Thingol reacts with total approval of the idea that Morgoth will kill Beren, saying to Lúthien, “’Twill not be the first of the Gnomes that Melko has slain and for less reason. It is well for him that he lies not bound here in grievous spells for his trespass in my halls and for his insolent speech” (HoME II, p. 14). 

This is the nicest Thingol gets in all iterations of this scene, by the way. It will only go downhill from here, and Thingol’s purpose will become ever more obvious. 

Lay of Leithian 

Lúthien makes Thingol swear that “No blade nor chain his limbs shall mar” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, line 954) (I wonder why she considered that necessary?), but immediately, fearing that Lúthien will tell Beren to flee from Doriath while there is still time, Thingol sets Daeron on Lúthien and Beren (with archers) to spy on them, and to catch Beren if necessary (why the need for archers otherwise?) (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 968–970). 

When Beren winds up in Menegroth the next day, Thingol starts fantasising about his death pretty much immediately, telling him, “How hast thou Luthien beguiled or darest thus to walk this wood unasked, in secret? Reason good ‘twere best declare now if thou may, or never again see light of day!” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1033–1037) 

This theme continues, with Thingol then saying, “Death is the guerdon thou hast earned, O baseborn mortal” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1064–1065). 

A few lines later, Thingol begins to plot how to do precisely what he swore to Lúthien not to do, while technically keeping his oath: “‘And death,’ said Thingol, ‘thou shouldst taste, had I not sworn an oath in haste that blade nor chain thy flesh should mar. Yet captive bound by never a bar, unchained, unfettered, shalt thou be in lightless labyrinth endlessly that coils about my halls profound by magic bewildered and enwound; there wandering in hopelessness thou shalt learn the power of Elfinesse!’” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1070–1089) 

That is, Thingol believes that trapping Beren within an enchanted labyrinth rather than in a literal dungeon with literal chains would be in keeping with his vow. Beren then calls him out on twisting the words of his oath to Lúthien by letting him die in Thingol’s enchanted maze (= Doriath). 

Melian tells Thingol that he shouldn’t try to kill Beren in a roundabout way (“O king, forgo thy pride! Such is my counsel. Not by thee shall Beren be slain, for far and free from these deep halls his fate doth lead, yet wound with thine. O king, take heed!” HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1107–1111), but Thingol ignores his wife’s counsel (what else is new?) and demands a Silmaril as a bride-price for Lúthien. 

Why? He later makes it very clear to Melian that his aim is to make sure that Beren will not return to Doriath alive: “‘I sell not to Men those whom I love,’ said Thingol, ‘whom all things above I cherish; and if hope there were that Beren should ever living fare to the Thousand Caves once more, I swear he should not ever have seen the air or light of heaven’s stars again.’” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1196–1202) That stress on Beren returning alive is rather ominous. Thingol is clearly hoping for Beren’s death. 

And Lúthien knows that Thingol intends Beren’s death, saying to him: “A guileful oath thou sworest, father! Thou hast both to blade and chain his flesh now doomed in Morgoth’s dungeons deep entombed” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1180–1183), explicitly calling back to the exact wording of Thingol’s previous oath to her, which she is accusing him of breaking (in spirit, if not in words). 

Sketch of the Mythology 

The Sketch only has a few words to say about the why: “To win her Thingol, in mockery, requires a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth.” (HoME IV, p. 24) For details, it refers to the Lay of Leithian (see above).

Quenta Noldorinwa 

The QN is perfectly explicit about Thingol’s motivation: it’s killing Beren, full stop. 

“But Thingol was wroth and he dismissed him in scorn, but did not slay him because he had sworn an oath to his daughter. But he desired nonetheless to send him to his death. And he thought in his heart of a quest that could not be achieved, and he said: If thou bring me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, I will let Lúthien wed thee, if she will. And Beren vowed to achieve this, and went from Doriath to Nargothrond bearing the ring of Barahir.” (HoME IV, p. 109) 

Quenta Silmarillion 

The published QS is pretty close to the Lay of Leithian, including a series of more or less exact quotations. 

Again we have the element of Lúthien considering it necessary to make her father swear not to kill her boyfriend: “But Daeron the minstrel also loved Luthien, and he espied her meetings with Beren, and betrayed them to Thingol. Then the King was filled with anger, for Lúthien he loved above all things, setting her above all the princes of the Elves; whereas mortal Men he did not even take into his service. Therefore he spoke in grief and amazement to Lúthien; but she would reveal nothing, until he swore an oath to her that he would neither slay Beren nor imprison him.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Again the first thing Thingol does is breaking his oath in spirit and sending his soldiers to capture him: “But he sent his servants to lay hands on him and lead him to Menegroth as a malefactor; and Lúthien forestalling them led Beren herself before the throne of Thingol, as if he were an honoured guest.” Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Again Thingol immediately starts fantasising about Beren’s death and regretting that he swore not to kill him: “Death you have earned with these words; and death you should find suddenly, had I not sworn an oath in haste; of which I repent, baseborn mortal, who in the realm of Morgoth has learnt to creep in secret as his spies and thralls.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

And now everyone present realises what Thingol’s idea behind setting Beren that task was: sending Beren to his death without technically breaking his oath to Lúthien: “Thus he wrought the doom of Doriath, and was ensnared within the curse of Mandos. And those that heard these words perceived that Thingol would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death; for they knew that not all the power of the Noldor, before the Siege was broken, had availed even to see from afar the shining Silmarils of Fëanor.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

And again Thingol later explains to Melian, “I sell not to Elves or Men those whom I love and cherish above all treasure. And if there were hope or fear that Beren should come ever back alive to Menegroth, he should not have looked again upon the light of heaven, though I had sworn it.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Grey Annals 

The Grey Annals are equally very explicit about what Thingol wanted: 

• “Beren was brought before King Thingol, who scorned him, and desiring to send him to death, said to him in mockery that he must bring a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth as the bride-price of Lúthien.” (HoME XI, p. 62) 
• “Then Thingol was wroth indeed, but Luthien brought Beren to Menegroth, and Beren showed to him the ring of Inglor his kinsman. But Thingol spoke in anger scorning mortal Men, saying that the service of Beren’s father to another prince gave the son no claim to walk in Doriath, still less to lift his eyes to Luthien. Then Beren being stung by his scorn swore that by no power of spell, wall or weapon should he be withheld from his love; and Thingol would have cast him into prison or put him to death, if he had not sworn to Lúthien that no harm should come to Beren. But, as doom would, a thought came into his heart, and he answered in mockery: ‘If thou fearest neither spell, wall nor weapons, as thou saist, then go fetch me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. Then we will give jewel for jewel, but thou shalt win the fairer: Lúthien of the First-born and of the Gods.’ And those who heard knew that he would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death.” (HoME XI, p. 65)

Sources 

The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins, ebook edition February 2011, version 2019-01-09 [cited as: Sil]. 

The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME II]. 

The Lays of Beleriand, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME III].

The Shaping of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME IV]. 

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

The question why Thingol set Beren the impossible task of stealing and bringing him a Silmaril as bride-price for Lúthien has been discussed recently, but I don’t think that there’s much room for interpretation: Thingol definitely intended to kill Beren. 

Sure, Thingol is also notoriously greedy and hates the Noldor, so of course he wants Fëanor’s jewels (his “greed” is explicitly referred to in HoME IV, p. 116), but mainly, he wants to kill Beren, and he needs to use a roundabout way because he unfortunately just swore to his daughter that he would not murder her boyfriend. 

Tale of Tinúviel 

In this extremely early version (Beren is still a Gnome) we aren’t given a reason why Thingol demands a Silmaril yet (probably mockery), but trying to steal the Silmarils from Morgoth (“Melko”) already means certain death, and everyone including Beren knows this. The people of Thingol take Thingol’s demand for an “uncouth jest” (HoME II, p. 13), but for Lúthien, it’s dead serious: “‘’Twas ill done, O my father,’ she cried, ‘to send one to his death with thy sorry jesting – for now methinks he will attempt the deed, being maddened by thy scorn, and Melko will slay him, and none will look ever again with such love upon my dancing.’” (HoME II, p. 14) Thingol reacts with total approval of the idea that Morgoth will kill Beren, saying to Lúthien, “’Twill not be the first of the Gnomes that Melko has slain and for less reason. It is well for him that he lies not bound here in grievous spells for his trespass in my halls and for his insolent speech” (HoME II, p. 14). 

This is the nicest Thingol gets in all iterations of this scene, by the way. It will only go downhill from here, and Thingol’s purpose will become ever more obvious. 

Lay of Leithian 

Lúthien makes Thingol swear that “No blade nor chain his limbs shall mar” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, line 954) (I wonder why she considered that necessary?), but immediately, fearing that Lúthien will tell Beren to flee from Doriath while there is still time, Thingol sets Daeron on Lúthien and Beren (with archers) to spy on them, and to catch Beren if necessary (why the need for archers otherwise?) (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 968–970). 

When Beren winds up in Menegroth the next day, Thingol starts fantasising about his death pretty much immediately, telling him, “How hast thou Luthien beguiled or darest thus to walk this wood unasked, in secret? Reason good ‘twere best declare now if thou may, or never again see light of day!” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1033–1037) 

This theme continues, with Thingol then saying, “Death is the guerdon thou hast earned, O baseborn mortal” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1064–1065). 

A few lines later, Thingol begins to plot how to do precisely what he swore to Lúthien not to do, while technically keeping his oath: “‘And death,’ said Thingol, ‘thou shouldst taste, had I not sworn an oath in haste that blade nor chain thy flesh should mar. Yet captive bound by never a bar, unchained, unfettered, shalt thou be in lightless labyrinth endlessly that coils about my halls profound by magic bewildered and enwound; there wandering in hopelessness thou shalt learn the power of Elfinesse!’” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1070–1089) 

That is, Thingol believes that trapping Beren within an enchanted labyrinth rather than in a literal dungeon with literal chains would be in keeping with his vow. Beren then calls him out on twisting the words of his oath to Lúthien by letting him die in Thingol’s enchanted maze (= Doriath). 

Melian tells Thingol that he shouldn’t try to kill Beren in a roundabout way (“O king, forgo thy pride! Such is my counsel. Not by thee shall Beren be slain, for far and free from these deep halls his fate doth lead, yet wound with thine. O king, take heed!” HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1107–1111), but Thingol ignores his wife’s counsel (what else is new?) and demands a Silmaril as a bride-price for Lúthien. 

Why? He later makes it very clear to Melian that his aim is to make sure that Beren will not return to Doriath alive: “‘I sell not to Men those whom I love,’ said Thingol, ‘whom all things above I cherish; and if hope there were that Beren should ever living fare to the Thousand Caves once more, I swear he should not ever have seen the air or light of heaven’s stars again.’” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1196–1202) That stress on Beren returning alive is rather ominous. Thingol is clearly hoping for Beren’s death. 

And Lúthien knows that Thingol intends Beren’s death, saying to him: “A guileful oath thou sworest, father! Thou hast both to blade and chain his flesh now doomed in Morgoth’s dungeons deep entombed” (HoME III, Lay of Leithian, lines 1180–1183), explicitly calling back to the exact wording of Thingol’s previous oath to her, which she is accusing him of breaking (in spirit, if not in words). 

Sketch of the Mythology 

The Sketch only has a few words to say about the why: “To win her Thingol, in mockery, requires a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth.” (HoME IV, p. 24) For details, it refers to the Lay of Leithian (see above).

Quenta Noldorinwa 

The QN is perfectly explicit about Thingol’s motivation: it’s killing Beren, full stop. 

“But Thingol was wroth and he dismissed him in scorn, but did not slay him because he had sworn an oath to his daughter. But he desired nonetheless to send him to his death. And he thought in his heart of a quest that could not be achieved, and he said: If thou bring me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth, I will let Lúthien wed thee, if she will. And Beren vowed to achieve this, and went from Doriath to Nargothrond bearing the ring of Barahir.” (HoME IV, p. 109) 

Quenta Silmarillion 

The published QS is pretty close to the Lay of Leithian, including a series of more or less exact quotations. 

Again we have the element of Lúthien considering it necessary to make her father swear not to kill her boyfriend: “But Daeron the minstrel also loved Luthien, and he espied her meetings with Beren, and betrayed them to Thingol. Then the King was filled with anger, for Lúthien he loved above all things, setting her above all the princes of the Elves; whereas mortal Men he did not even take into his service. Therefore he spoke in grief and amazement to Lúthien; but she would reveal nothing, until he swore an oath to her that he would neither slay Beren nor imprison him.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Again the first thing Thingol does is breaking his oath in spirit and sending his soldiers to capture him: “But he sent his servants to lay hands on him and lead him to Menegroth as a malefactor; and Lúthien forestalling them led Beren herself before the throne of Thingol, as if he were an honoured guest.” Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Again Thingol immediately starts fantasising about Beren’s death and regretting that he swore not to kill him: “Death you have earned with these words; and death you should find suddenly, had I not sworn an oath in haste; of which I repent, baseborn mortal, who in the realm of Morgoth has learnt to creep in secret as his spies and thralls.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

And now everyone present realises what Thingol’s idea behind setting Beren that task was: sending Beren to his death without technically breaking his oath to Lúthien: “Thus he wrought the doom of Doriath, and was ensnared within the curse of Mandos. And those that heard these words perceived that Thingol would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death; for they knew that not all the power of the Noldor, before the Siege was broken, had availed even to see from afar the shining Silmarils of Fëanor.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

And again Thingol later explains to Melian, “I sell not to Elves or Men those whom I love and cherish above all treasure. And if there were hope or fear that Beren should come ever back alive to Menegroth, he should not have looked again upon the light of heaven, though I had sworn it.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) 

Grey Annals 

The Grey Annals are equally very explicit about what Thingol wanted: 

• “Beren was brought before King Thingol, who scorned him, and desiring to send him to death, said to him in mockery that he must bring a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth as the bride-price of Lúthien.” (HoME XI, p. 62) 
• “Then Thingol was wroth indeed, but Luthien brought Beren to Menegroth, and Beren showed to him the ring of Inglor his kinsman. But Thingol spoke in anger scorning mortal Men, saying that the service of Beren’s father to another prince gave the son no claim to walk in Doriath, still less to lift his eyes to Luthien. Then Beren being stung by his scorn swore that by no power of spell, wall or weapon should he be withheld from his love; and Thingol would have cast him into prison or put him to death, if he had not sworn to Lúthien that no harm should come to Beren. But, as doom would, a thought came into his heart, and he answered in mockery: ‘If thou fearest neither spell, wall nor weapons, as thou saist, then go fetch me a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. Then we will give jewel for jewel, but thou shalt win the fairer: Lúthien of the First-born and of the Gods.’ And those who heard knew that he would save his oath, and yet send Beren to his death.” (HoME XI, p. 65)

Sources 

The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins, ebook edition February 2011, version 2019-01-09 [cited as: Sil]. 

The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME II]. 

The Lays of Beleriand, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME III].

The Shaping of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME IV]. 

The War of the Jewels, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XI].

Beren and Lúthien is a fairytale dropped into an epic tragedy. The entire War of the Jewels is high fantasy, yes, but dark and gritty, constantly dealing with topics like violent death, torture, rape, slavery and suicide. 

Just consider the two other Great Tales: the Fall of Gondolin, which is about Morgoth breaching a sanctuary and killing most of the population (an early version of this story had included the idea of the men of Gondolin mercy-killing their women and children to keep them from an even worse fate), and the Children of Húrin, which, after touching on topics like rape, murder, incest and slavery, ends with Húrin, Túrin and Nienor committing suicide and Morwen dying of a broken heart. 

And then there’s Beren and Lúthien, where Lúthien succeeds at everything including overpowering Morgoth and stealing a Silmaril from his crown, but when Beren dies, “her sorrow [was] deeper than their sorrows” (Sil, QS, ch. 19), she manages to defeat death, and then they live happily ever after with their beautiful child. 

While Tolkien calls the tale of Beren and Lúthien is “a kind of Orpheus-legend in reverse” (Letters, Letter 153, p. 193), it’s pretty obvious that it’s mostly one thing: a fairytale. 

Tolkien spent his entire life extremely interested in fairytales, writing the important essay On Fairy-Stories (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_Fairy-Stories) and touching on the topic in a lot of his letters. One of his central points was that fairytales aren’t inherently for children, and Tolkien wanted to write fairytales not addressed at children per se (Letters, Letter 163, p. 216). He explicitly called LOTR a fairytale for adults (Letters, Letter 181, p. 232–233; Letter 234, p. 310). 

As Tolkien wrote, “an equally basic passion of mine ab initio was for myth (not allegory!) and for fairy-story, and above all for heroic legend on the brink of fairy-tale and history”, and his original intention had been “to make a body of more of less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level of romantic fairy-story – the larger founded on the lesser in contact with the earth, the lesser drawing splendour from the vast backcloths” (Letters, Letter 131, p. 144). 

And that feels a lot like Beren and Lúthien, one of the Great Tales nestled in the epic (both scale-wise and language-wise) frame narrative of the heroic War of the Jewels. 

Anyway, let’s go through a few points that make Beren and Lúthien feel like a fairytale. These aren’t necessarily points from specific fairytales, but often fairytale motifs. 

• Lúthien is literally a fairy princess living in an enchanted forest, and the most beautiful woman to ever live. She’s got an abusive father who imprisons her at a great height, and has to run away. 
• Beren is Prince Charming. He’s friends with animals, for crying out loud: “he became the friend of birds and beasts, and they aided him, and did not betray him” (Sil, QS, ch. 19). He’s also a prince/king by right (chieftain of the House of Bëor and Lord of Ladros, if it still existed), and he’s very handsome, with his “hair of a golden brown and grey eyes; he was taller than most of his kin, but he was broad-shouldered and very strong in his limbs” (HoME XII, p. 326). 
• True love and love at first sight, of course. It’s an interspecies romance between a Man and one of the Fair Folk, even more of course. That love also has healing properties, apparently: “With that leaf she staunched Beren’s wound, and by her arts and by her love she healed him; and thus at last they returned to Doriath.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) In Rapunzel, the protagonist’s tears heal the prince’s blindness.  
• The entire thing is the hero’s fault in the first place: Beren didn’t have to swear a random oath to Thingol, he could just have married Lúthien without his consent. (This concept of why the hell did you do that is common in fairytales from Hansel and Gretel over Bluebeard to Rapunzel.) 
• A quest in the form of an impossible task (even more specifically, in the form of an impossible theft) set by the King for Lúthien’s hand. This trope is called engagement challenge, and there are dozens of fairytales and stories from mythology that have it. 
• When Thingol imprisons Lúthien, Lúthien turns into Rapunzel: “she put forth her arts of enchantment, and caused her hair to grow to great length, and of it she wove a dark robe that wrapped her beauty like a shadow, and it was laden with a spell of sleep. Of the strands that remained she twined a rope, and she let it down from her window; and as the end swayed above the guards that sat beneath the tree they fell into a deep slumber. Then Lúthien climbed from her prison, and shrouded in her shadowy cloak she escaped from all eyes, and vanished out of Doriath.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) The idea of a woman weaving is also omnipresent in fairytales. Another thing that reminds me of Rapunzel is that Beren is maimed, while the prince in Rapunzel is blinded. Amputated hands are also a fairytale motif. 
• Lots of (rash but binding) promises: Beren swears to Thingol, Finrod swears to Barahir. The fairytale trope of the rash promise even has a Wikipedia page: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rash_promise. 
• The promise is technically but not really fulfilled: Beren says, “But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) Beren gets the Silmaril, but his hand (still clutching the Silmaril) is bitten off and swallowed by a Big Bad Wolf. When he meets Thingol again, Beren says, “Even now a Silmaril is in my hand.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19), but that is deemed enough. This trope called exact words (also: metaphorically true) (the idea is that something technically somehow meets the criteria but obviously isn’t what was intended) is common in fairytales and folktales (e.g. The Peasant’s Wise Daughter, where the king, who is trying to drive away his wife, tells her that she may take one thing with her from the palace, and she drugs him and takes him—unconscious—with her). 
• Talking animals and humans loving animals. Huan is a talking animal, and loves Lúthien (and vice versa). The sapient steed in particular is a fairytale trope; the talking hound whom Lúthien rides is close enough. 
• Lots of shapeshifting. 
• Finrod and Beren assume a secret identity (and Finrod hides his golden hair). 
• Sauron is literally an evil sorcerer. 
• Morgoth is an ogre in his fortress (Tolkien compares Morgoth to an ogre in Myths Transformed, and in early versions, Morgoth even had a child with an ogress). 
• Damsel in distress, gender-swapped. 
• The Big Bad Wolf. Enough said. A wolf-hunt where the dog kills the wolf. 
• ALL of the magic and enchantments (mostly Lúthien’s). 
• Success in the impossible task/engagement challenge: Tolkien writes of Frodo’s failure: “And surely it is a more significant and real event than a mere ‘fairy-story’ ending in which the hero is indomitable?” (Letters, Letter 192, p. 252) Well, Frodo failed, and Beren and Lúthien succeeded (wildly implausibly). 
• The hero’s reward: marrying the princess (never mind that she did all the work). 
• Back from the dead: Beren and Lúthien return from death to life. Not exactly the same, but magical revival is a common fairytale element, from Sleeping Beauty to Snow White. 
• Happily ever after: Beren and Lúthien get the only HEA in the entire Quenta: “Then Beren and Lúthien went forth alone, fearing neither thirst nor hunger; and they passed beyond the River Gelion into Ossiriand, and dwelt there in Tol Galen the green isle, in the midst of Adurant, until all tidings of them ceased. The Eldar afterwards called that country Dor Firn-i-Guinar, the Land of the Dead that Live; and there was born Dior Aranel the beautiful, who was after known as Dior Eluchíl, which is Thingol’s Heir. No mortal man spoke ever again with Beren son of Barahir; and none saw Beren or Lúthien leave the world, or marked where at last their bodies lay.” (Sil, QS, ch. 20) They spent the rest of their lives untroubled even by the Sons of Fëanor, for “For while Lúthien wore the Necklace of the Dwarves no Elf would dare to assail her” (Sil, QS, ch. 22). (A more typical end to a couple’s marriage in the Quenta would be death by violence, broken heart or suicide.)

And this—the fact that Beren and Lúthien is a fairytale dropped into an epic tragedy—is why it’s my least favourite chapter of the Silmarillion, and my least favourite part of the First Age, because it completely breaks the story of the Quenta: the genre conventions of fairytale and epic tragedy are just so wildly different. 

In particular, the fact that they get an and they lived happily ever after while the war rages around them, completely untouched by reality, feels really jarring—especially because we now know that Lúthien is a real threat to Morgoth, so by the logic of the wider plot of the Quenta, she should fight him and try to save Beleriand! But she doesn’t, because she’s a fairytale princess who dips into and back out of the story of the Quenta for a few years and a chapter. Because fairytales end with and they lived happily ever after, so the fairytale (and Beren and Lúthien’s story in general) had to end. 

Sources 

The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins, ebook edition February 2011, version 2019-01-09 [cited as: Sil]. 

The Peoples of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XII]. 

The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, JRR Tolkien, ed Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2006 (softcover) [cited as: Letters].

TV Tropes about fairytale tropes: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FairyTaleTropes 

Beren and Lúthien is a fairytale dropped into an epic tragedy. The entire War of the Jewels is high fantasy, yes, but dark and gritty, constantly dealing with topics like violent death, torture, rape, slavery and suicide. 

Just consider the two other Great Tales: the Fall of Gondolin, which is about Morgoth breaching a sanctuary and killing most of the population (an early version of this story had included the idea of the men of Gondolin mercy-killing their women and children to keep them from an even worse fate), and the Children of Húrin, which, after touching on topics like rape, murder, incest and slavery, ends with Húrin, Túrin and Nienor committing suicide and Morwen dying of a broken heart. 

And then there’s Beren and Lúthien, where Lúthien succeeds at everything including overpowering Morgoth and stealing a Silmaril from his crown, but when Beren dies, “her sorrow [was] deeper than their sorrows” (Sil, QS, ch. 19), she manages to defeat death, and then they live happily ever after with their beautiful child. 

While Tolkien calls the tale of Beren and Lúthien is “a kind of Orpheus-legend in reverse” (Letters, Letter 153, p. 193), it’s pretty obvious that it’s mostly one thing: a fairytale. 

Tolkien spent his entire life extremely interested in fairytales, writing the important essay On Fairy-Stories (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_Fairy-Stories) and touching on the topic in a lot of his letters. One of his central points was that fairytales aren’t inherently for children, and Tolkien wanted to write fairytales not addressed at children per se (Letters, Letter 163, p. 216). He explicitly called LOTR a fairytale for adults (Letters, Letter 181, p. 232–233; Letter 234, p. 310). 

As Tolkien wrote, “an equally basic passion of mine ab initio was for myth (not allegory!) and for fairy-story, and above all for heroic legend on the brink of fairy-tale and history”, and his original intention had been “to make a body of more of less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level of romantic fairy-story – the larger founded on the lesser in contact with the earth, the lesser drawing splendour from the vast backcloths” (Letters, Letter 131, p. 144). 

And that feels a lot like Beren and Lúthien, one of the Great Tales nestled in the epic (both scale-wise and language-wise) frame narrative of the heroic War of the Jewels. 

Anyway, let’s go through a few points that make Beren and Lúthien feel like a fairytale. These aren’t necessarily points from specific fairytales, but often fairytale motifs. 

• Lúthien is literally a fairy princess living in an enchanted forest, and the most beautiful woman to ever live. She’s got an abusive father who imprisons her at a great height, and has to run away. 
• Beren is Prince Charming. He’s friends with animals, for crying out loud: “he became the friend of birds and beasts, and they aided him, and did not betray him” (Sil, QS, ch. 19). He’s also a prince/king by right (chieftain of the House of Bëor and Lord of Ladros, if it still existed), and he’s very handsome, with his “hair of a golden brown and grey eyes; he was taller than most of his kin, but he was broad-shouldered and very strong in his limbs” (HoME XII, p. 326). 
• True love and love at first sight, of course. It’s an interspecies romance between a Man and one of the Fair Folk, even more of course. That love also has healing properties, apparently: “With that leaf she staunched Beren’s wound, and by her arts and by her love she healed him; and thus at last they returned to Doriath.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) In Rapunzel, the protagonist’s tears heal the prince’s blindness.  
• The entire thing is the hero’s fault in the first place: Beren didn’t have to swear a random oath to Thingol, he could just have married Lúthien without his consent. (This concept of why the hell did you do that is common in fairytales from Hansel and Gretel over Bluebeard to Rapunzel.) 
• A quest in the form of an impossible task (even more specifically, in the form of an impossible theft) set by the King for Lúthien’s hand. This trope is called engagement challenge, and there are dozens of fairytales and stories from mythology that have it. 
• When Thingol imprisons Lúthien, Lúthien turns into Rapunzel: “she put forth her arts of enchantment, and caused her hair to grow to great length, and of it she wove a dark robe that wrapped her beauty like a shadow, and it was laden with a spell of sleep. Of the strands that remained she twined a rope, and she let it down from her window; and as the end swayed above the guards that sat beneath the tree they fell into a deep slumber. Then Lúthien climbed from her prison, and shrouded in her shadowy cloak she escaped from all eyes, and vanished out of Doriath.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) The idea of a woman weaving is also omnipresent in fairytales. Another thing that reminds me of Rapunzel is that Beren is maimed, while the prince in Rapunzel is blinded. Amputated hands are also a fairytale motif. 
• Lots of (rash but binding) promises: Beren swears to Thingol, Finrod swears to Barahir. The fairytale trope of the rash promise even has a Wikipedia page: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rash_promise. 
• The promise is technically but not really fulfilled: Beren says, “But if this be your will, Thingol, I will perform it. And when we meet again my hand shall hold a Silmaril from the Iron Crown; for you have not looked the last upon Beren son of Barahir.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19) Beren gets the Silmaril, but his hand (still clutching the Silmaril) is bitten off and swallowed by a Big Bad Wolf. When he meets Thingol again, Beren says, “Even now a Silmaril is in my hand.” (Sil, QS, ch. 19), but that is deemed enough. This trope called exact words (also: metaphorically true) (the idea is that something technically somehow meets the criteria but obviously isn’t what was intended) is common in fairytales and folktales (e.g. The Peasant’s Wise Daughter, where the king, who is trying to drive away his wife, tells her that she may take one thing with her from the palace, and she drugs him and takes him—unconscious—with her). 
• Talking animals and humans loving animals. Huan is a talking animal, and loves Lúthien (and vice versa). The sapient steed in particular is a fairytale trope; the talking hound whom Lúthien rides is close enough. 
• Lots of shapeshifting. 
• Finrod and Beren assume a secret identity (and Finrod hides his golden hair). 
• Sauron is literally an evil sorcerer. 
• Morgoth is an ogre in his fortress (Tolkien compares Morgoth to an ogre in Myths Transformed, and in early versions, Morgoth even had a child with an ogress). 
• Damsel in distress, gender-swapped. 
• The Big Bad Wolf. Enough said. A wolf-hunt where the dog kills the wolf. 
• ALL of the magic and enchantments (mostly Lúthien’s). 
• Success in the impossible task/engagement challenge: Tolkien writes of Frodo’s failure: “And surely it is a more significant and real event than a mere ‘fairy-story’ ending in which the hero is indomitable?” (Letters, Letter 192, p. 252) Well, Frodo failed, and Beren and Lúthien succeeded (wildly implausibly). 
• The hero’s reward: marrying the princess (never mind that she did all the work). 
• Back from the dead: Beren and Lúthien return from death to life. Not exactly the same, but magical revival is a common fairytale element, from Sleeping Beauty to Snow White. 
• Happily ever after: Beren and Lúthien get the only HEA in the entire Quenta: “Then Beren and Lúthien went forth alone, fearing neither thirst nor hunger; and they passed beyond the River Gelion into Ossiriand, and dwelt there in Tol Galen the green isle, in the midst of Adurant, until all tidings of them ceased. The Eldar afterwards called that country Dor Firn-i-Guinar, the Land of the Dead that Live; and there was born Dior Aranel the beautiful, who was after known as Dior Eluchíl, which is Thingol’s Heir. No mortal man spoke ever again with Beren son of Barahir; and none saw Beren or Lúthien leave the world, or marked where at last their bodies lay.” (Sil, QS, ch. 20) They spent the rest of their lives untroubled even by the Sons of Fëanor, for “For while Lúthien wore the Necklace of the Dwarves no Elf would dare to assail her” (Sil, QS, ch. 22). (A more typical end to a couple’s marriage in the Quenta would be death by violence, broken heart or suicide.)

And this—the fact that Beren and Lúthien is a fairytale dropped into an epic tragedy—is why it’s my least favourite chapter of the Silmarillion, and my least favourite part of the First Age, because it completely breaks the story of the Quenta: the genre conventions of fairytale and epic tragedy are just so wildly different. 

In particular, the fact that they get an and they lived happily ever after while the war rages around them, completely untouched by reality, feels really jarring—especially because we now know that Lúthien is a real threat to Morgoth, so by the logic of the wider plot of the Quenta, she should fight him and try to save Beleriand! But she doesn’t, because she’s a fairytale princess who dips into and back out of the story of the Quenta for a few years and a chapter. Because fairytales end with and they lived happily ever after, so the fairytale (and Beren and Lúthien’s story in general) had to end. 

Sources 

The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien, ed Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins, ebook edition February 2011, version 2019-01-09 [cited as: Sil]. 

The Peoples of Middle-earth, JRR Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2015 (softcover) [cited as: HoME XII]. 

The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, JRR Tolkien, ed Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollins 2006 (softcover) [cited as: Letters].

TV Tropes about fairytale tropes: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FairyTaleTropes