Now the making of this place of fire is more wondrous than seems, for so subtle were those radiances that set in the air they spilled not nor sank, nay rather they rose and floated away far above Vilna, being of the utmost buoyancy and lightness; yet now did nought escape from Faskalan which burnt amid the plain, and light came to Valinor therefrom, yet by reason of the deepness of the bason it fared not far abroad and the ring of shadows stood close in.
Then said Manwл, looking upon the glory of that ship as it strained to be away: “Who shall steer us this boat and guide its course above the realms of Earth, for even the holy bodies of the Valar, meseems, may not for long endure to bathe in this great light.”
But a great thought came into the heart of Urwendi, and she said that she was not adread, and begged leave to become the mistress of the Sun and to make herself ready for that office as Ilъvatar set it in her heart to do. Then did she bid a many of her maidens follow her, even of those who had aforetime watered the roots of Laurelin with light, and casting aside their raiment they went down into that pool Faskalan as bathers into the sea, and its golden foams went over their bodies, and the Gods saw them not and were afraid. But after a while they came again to the brazen shores and were not as before, for their bodies were grown lucent and shone as with an ardour within, and light flashed from their limbs as they moved, nor might any raiment endure to cover their glorious bodies any more. Like air were they, and they trod as lightly as does sunlight on the earth, and saying no word they climbed upon the ship, and that vessel heaved against its great cords and all the folk of Valinor might scarce restrain it.
Now at last by Manwл’s command do they climb the long slopes of Taniquetil and draw 1i·Kalaventл the Ship of Light along with them, nor is that any great task; and now do they stand on the wide space before great Manwл’s doors, and the ship is on the western slope of the mountain trembling and tugging at its bonds, and already so great is its glory become that sunbeams pour out over the shoulders of Taniquetil and a new light is in the sky, and the waters of the Shadowy Seas beyond are touched with such fire as they never yet had seen. In that hour ’tis said that all creatures that wandered in the world stood still and wondered, even as Manwл going spake to Urwendi and said: “Go now, most wondrous maiden washed in fire, and steer the ship of divine light above the world, that joy may search out its narrowest crannies and all the things that sleep within its bosom may awake”14 but Urwendi answered not, looking only eagerly to the East, and Manwл bade cast the ropes that held her, and straightway the Ship of the Morning arose above Taniquetil and the bosom of the air received it.
Ever as it rose it burned the brighter and the purer till all Valinor was filled with radiance, and the vales of Erъmбni and the Shadowy Seas were bathed in light, and sunshine was spilled on the dark plain of Arvalin, save only where Ungweliantл’s clinging webs and darkest fumes still lay too thick for any radiance to filter through.
Then all looking up saw that heaven was blue, and very bright and beautiful, but the stars fled as that great dawn came upon the world; and a gentle wind blew from the cold lands to meet the vessel and filled its gleaming sails, and white vapours mounted from off the misty seas below toward her, that her prow seemed to cleave a white and airy foam. Yet did she waver not, for the Mбnir that fared about her drew her by golden cords, and higher and higher the Sun’s great galleon arose, until even to the sight of Manwл it was but a disc of fire wreathed in veils of splendour that slowly and majestically wandered from the West.
Now ever as it drew further on its way so grew the light in Valinor more mellow, and the shadows of the houses of the Gods grew long, slanting away towards the waters of the Outer Seas, but Taniquetil threw a great westering shadow that waxed ever longer and deeper, and it was afternoon in Valinor.’
Then said Gilfanon laughing: ‘Nay, but, good sir, you lengthen the tale mightily, for methinks you love to dwell upon the works and deeds of the great Gods, but an you set not a measure to your words our stranger here will live not to hear of those things that happened in the world when at length the Gods gave to it the light they so long had withholden—and such tales, methinks, were a variety pleasing to hear.’
But Eriol had of a sooth been listening very eagerly to the sweet voice of Lindo, and he said: ‘But a little while agone, a day perchance the Eldar would esteem it, did I come hither, yet no longer do I love the name of stranger, neither will Lindo ever lengthen the tale beyond my liking, whatsoever he tells, but behold this history is all to my heart.’
But Lindo said: ‘Nay, nay, I have indeed more to tell; yet, O Eriol, the things that Gilfanon hath upon his lips are well worth the hearing—indeed never have I nor any here heard a full count of these matters. As soon therefore as may be will I wind up my tale and make an end, but three nights hence let us have another tale-telling, and it shall be one of greater ceremony, and mus1ics there shall be, and all the children of the House of Lost Play shall here be gathered together at his feet to hear Gilfanon relate the travail of the Noldoli and the coming of Mankind.’
Now these words mightily pleased Gilfanon and Eriol, and many beside were glad, but now doth Lindo proceed:
‘Know then that to such vast heights did the Sunship climb, and climbing blazed ever hotter and brighter, that ere long its glory was wider than ever the Gods conceived of when that vessel was still harboured in their midst. Everywhere did its great light pierce and all the vales and darkling woods, the bleak slopes and rocky streams, lay dazzled by it, and the Gods were amazed. Great was the magic and wonder of the Sun in those days of bright Urwendi, yet not so tender and so delicately fair as had the sweet Tree Laurelin once been; and thus whisper of new discontent awoke in Valinor, and words ran among the children of the Gods, for Mandos and Fui were wroth, saying that Aulл and Varda would for ever be meddling with the due order of the world, making it a place where no quiet or peaceful shadow could remain; but Lуrien sat and wept in a grove of trees beneath the shade of Taniquetil and looked upon his gardens stretching beneath, still disordered by the great hunt of the Gods, for he had not had the heart for their mending. There the nightingales were silent for the heat danced above the trees, and his poppies were withered, and his evening flowers drooped and gave no scent; and Silmo stood sadly by Telimpл that gleamed wanly as still waters rather than the shining dew of Silpion, so overmastering was the great light of day. Then Lуrien arose and said to Manwл: “Call back your glittering ship, O Lord of the Heavens, for the eyes of us ache by reason of its flaming, and beauty and soft sleep is driven far away. Rather the darkness and our memories than this, for this is not the old loveliness of Laurelin, and Silpion is no more.” Nor were any of the Gods utterly content, knowing in their hearts that they had done a greater thing than they at first knew, and never again would Valinor see such ages as had passed; and Vбna said that Kulullin’s fount was dulled and her garden wilted in the heat, and her roses lost their hues and fragrance, for the Sun then sailed nearer to the Earth than it now does.
Then Manwл chid them for their fickleness and discontent, but they were not appeased; and suddenly spake Ulmo, coming from outer Vai: “Lord Manwл, neither are their counsels nor thine to be despised. Have ye then not yet understood, O Valar, wherein lay much of the great beauty of the Trees of old?—In change, and in slow alternation of fair things, the passing blending sweetly with that which was to come.”
But Lуrien said suddenly: “O Valatъru, the Lord of Vai speaketh words wiser than ever before, and they fill me with a great longing,” and he left them thereupon and went out upon the plain, and it was then three daytimes, which is the length of three blossomings of Laurelin of old, since the Ship of Morning was unmoored. Then for four daytimes more sate Lуrien beside the stock of Silpion and the shadows gathered shyly round him, for the Sun was far to the East, beating about the heavens where it listed, since Manwл had not as yet ruled its course and Urwendi was bidden fare as seemed good to her. Yet even so Lуrien is not appeased, not though the darkness of the mountains creep across the plain, and a mist bloweth in from off the sea and a vague and flitting twilight gathers once more in Valinor, but long he sits pondering why the spells of Yavanna wrought only upon Laurelin.
Then Lуrien sang to Silpion, saying that the Valar were lost ‘in a wilderness of gold and heat, or els1e in shadows full of death and unkindly glooms,’ and he touched the wound in the bole of the Tree.