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Suddenly Gimli rose to his feet in the darkness of the cavern, hands clasped behind his back, as he burst into a song.
The world was young, the mountains green…
From the corner a flute melody began to accompany him, keeping in perfect harmony despite multiple changes of key and meter.
The hobbits were stunned into silence, entranced by the mingling of the voice and the gentle tune, now stern and majestic, now soft and grieving. They could almost see Khazad-Dûm in all its glory, and runes of power upon the door, as the song drifted into the night.
“I thank you for the accompaniment, Master Legolas! That was expertly played. How came you upon the tune? I thought it familiar only to the Dwarves.”
Legolas seemed inexplicably bewildered by the question.
“The…accompaniment? And, in the normal way, I suppose, I was just making polite conversation. Why did nobody else join us?”
“Because we have never heard this song before!”- exclaimed Pippin. “And, of course, we don’t have a habit of carrying flutes on our backs like some very peculiar pipes!”
“So what?” Legolas sounded even more confused. “I have never heard you say this exact sentence before, but I can nonetheless continue the conversation. What difference does it make if we are talking in words or tunes? And what do you mean, a habit? It is no more of a habit than eating or drinking!”
Gandalf finally decided to join the conversation, if only to prolong his own amusement. “Pippin, Legolas is an Elf.”
“Thank you, I would never have noticed.”
“Fool of a Took! If I say he is an Elf, then an Elf he is! Naturally, for him music is as important as food and water. He is born to his name and to his instrument, both carefully selected by his parents, and he could not leave his flute behind any more than you could leave your head, thick as a rock as it might be! Have you not noticed how much music there was at Elrond’s house?”
Pippin looked dejected. To be fair, he had mostly spent his time in Rivendell huddled up with Bilbo, enjoying some proper conversation that did not take place in verse and in about three languages at a time.
“I take no offense”, Legolas replied. “What is common knowledge for us may appear strange to the Shire folk, who barely ever see Elves passing by, much less have a chance to talk to them.”
By now everyone was well awake, and Pippin’s inquisitiveness was mirrored by the other hobbits.
Frodo was the first to remember his manners. “You are a truly marvelous musician! Does your whole family play the flute?”
Legolas’s mood suddenly darkened.
“My whole family, at present, is one rather cantankerous father. One who, of course, was born to carry the entire carillon around him…”
Everyone nodded. Nobody had the most remote idea of what a carillon was, but it sounded positively Elvish.
“…which made our life rather difficult when he was courting someone in Laketown during my teenage years. Secret trysts get complicated when you have to carry a dozen bells of various sizes in case you are suddenly gripped by a passion so strong that it can only be expressed by music!”
Oh. That’s what a carillon was. A dozen of bells, apparently to be used in moments of great passion.
The room abruptly fell into the kind of silence that indicates everyone very loudly thinking about something they would have preferred to remain unthought.
In a rather desperate tone, Merry asked:
“Has this always been the case? I have heard of the Elven heroes of the First Age, and how they would do entire battles in song, but I have never considered them to be accompanied by an instrument!”
“Absolutely! How else could they have fought the Enemy in the North?” Legolas sounded distinctly relieved and burst into an entirely too detailed explanation.
“Now, you probably know about the Fëanorians, they were an entire orchestra: a father and his seven sons, each one on a different instrument…”
“Maglor played the lute, correct?” Frodo, as always, was doing his best to show off his knowledge of the Elder Days, exclusively based on the one history book that Bilbo had brought home from Rivendell.
“Well, they all were born to string instruments of various complexity, and the twins, of course, had their claviers…oh, have you not heard about the horror of burning the ships at Losgar! Poor Amrod!”
“Burned?”
“Horribly! Gone, gone, and never was such glory seen again upon Arda! You see, they could never build another one to cover at least six octave range!”
There was a distinct impression of many gears turning slowly, until multiple voices proclaimed in unison:
“Build? Oh, you mean the clavier burned! Not Amrod!”
“What kind of a monster would I be to imply that?” Legolas huffed in a most unmelodious fashion. “No, but what a tragedy it was! The first, but not the last… You see, Maedhros had his lyre to match his brother’s lute, and then, obviously, could not play anything two-handed anymore. Had to switch to a simple trumpet. His brothers shunned him, and his father, had he been alive, would have disowned him on the spot…”
“What did Fëanor play, actually?” Finally, even Gandalf started showing some interest.
Legolas didn’t even need to think before replying: “A cithara.”
“A guitar?”
“A cithara.” Legolas repeated, trying to sound particularly Lórien-posh, in case Gandalf was having problems understanding his accent.
“Ah, a sitar! A gentle instrument, mostly found in the farther reaches of Khand.” Gandalf declared in a tone that suggested a great wealth of wisdom and experience.
“A cithara.” Legolas repeated for the third time, wondering if old age may affect the hearing of the Maiar the same as it does with the Edain.
“Since Gandalf will never admit not knowing something, it falls on the Fool of a Took to ask – what on Arda is a cithara?”- said Pippin.
“A kind of a quadruple-lyre bred with a lute, and just a touch of a harp, best befitting one who would prefer to express his musical inspiration in mathematical notations.”
“Poor Maedhros. I can just imagine what a trumpet would sound like for someone who is used to string instruments nobody can even pronounce...” Sam was compassionate as always, though Legolas did not appear particularly concerned.
“Oh, he could not care less what anyone thought except Fingon, who was only too happy to see Maedhros with a new instrument that was easy to carry. No wonder – having to lug his own harp all the way to Thangorodrim must not have been easy… Not to mention arranging it on an eagle, and what with the extra burden of Maedhros on the way back. Heard that the strings were sharper than any knife though, when one was needed…”
“Fingon carried a harp to Thangorodrim?” Now this was Aragorn. Probably imagining what it would feel like to be leading a party going towards Mordor if they had all been Elvish. Nine Walkers, plus Nine Instruments, Likely Harps.
“A golden one, at that.”
“Must’ve had amazing pecs.”
“Boromir, how are you still awake?”
“You're making enough of a racket for an Orchestra of Orcs. Anyway, what if he had been spotted?”
“In all likelihood, he would have been challenged to a single combat. Like Finrod…”
“But Finrod sang against Sauron!” Frodo again, the lad had learnt his history and chose to stay unaware that so did everyone else. Except Gandalf, who lived the history instead.
“Yes, like I said, a single combat. Each had to pick one song out of the entire repertoire – a single, as it may be.”
Frodo sounded confused. “How did they let him keep a harp in the dungeons?”
To his surprise, Sam answered first. “He never had a harp, that was Fingon, remember?”
“What did Finrod have, then?”
“Maybe a horn, as befits a warrior!” Boromir clearly had strong opinions about instruments.
Legolas sounded increasingly exasperated. “No, Boromir, horns were all Turgon’s, and everyone else’s in Gondolin by his decree, constantly echoing in the mountain passes! I doubt treachery was truly needed to spot its location… Finrod’s instrument of birth was something humble and small – an ocarina, I believe - but he could make it sound like the voice of Varda herself!”
Gandalf suddenly snickered, interrupting Legolas and undoubtedly remembering the voice of Varda, but his outburst was overshadowed by Pippin.
“Fine, an ocarina, but how did he manage to hide it from the guards while being imprisoned in the dungeons?”
“I am sure he was able to keep it hidden.” Legolas responded with an air of finality, which only managed to evoke, in his opinion, entirely too inquisitive remarks of “Where?” and “How?” quickly followed by “Wait, wait, where?” “Oh no. No and no. Don’t you even dare tell us.” “Why? Do tell!” “No, we do not want to know the details.”
“Insolent children, you should focus on the fact that Finrod lost, and that’s why we mourn him and talk of him with respect!” The Elf positively thundered at the rest of the company.
Sam was the first to catch on. “We apologize, Legolas. We meant no disrespect. How did Finrod lose the single combat though? Did Sauron… actually… play an instrument too?”
Legolas sounded mollified. “Of course. A cello, I heard? Powered by a strange fire, like lightning.”
“Though that was not always the case…” Surprisingly, now the voice was Gandalf’s again. “Before joining the Enemy he was the first solo cellist in the grand symphony of Aulë’s. Alas, he was corrupted by the one who was then called Melkor and who could not be satisfied to only build a guitar for himself, powered by the same lightning, but had to seduce Sauron - who was called Mairon at the time - to add the thunders and the blasts to his cello too…”
“Did… they…. Play together, then?” Everyone shuddered at the thought of the great Enemy in the North from times gone beyond the reaches of memory, somehow made more ominous by deadly dark music swirling around him.
“I would imagine.” Gandalf continued, while Legolas was listening as intently as the rest.
“Morgoth on a guitar, Sauron on a cello, their crazy bat-messenger on a piano, reaching as far as her wings would allow, and the Lord of Balrogs on his flaming drums… Nothing like that had ever been heard on Arda or Aman before… or since.” He sounded almost wistful for a moment. “But after all this talk of songs and instruments, we should enjoy whatever is left of the silence of the night!”
Yet Gimli would not be quiet yet.
“I have a thought that would not let me sleep. What happens if Elves befriend those who do not carry instruments? Is their friendship stunted for lack of music?”
Aragorn’s smile was audible in his response. “My friend Gimli, the music of the heart is stronger than any instrument. I cannot raise my voice in a song, and you may have noticed the silence of Lady Arwen at Elrond’s house that matches that of mine, by her own choice and promise. And yet we do not lack for anything, save, perhaps, time.”
Gimli only sighed in relief, and Legolas took out his flute again, offering to sit the first watch. They all fell asleep to its quiet melody…
And thus it came to pass that the Fellowship did not make fools of themselves when they entered Lórien and heard the song in the treetops – perhaps they were a little surprised when the Lady Galadriel seemed to use her voice as her primary instrument, accompanied by the Lord Celeborn on a white tambourine, but they expressed nothing except respect and eagerness to listen.