Here we proceed ahead with the given tales, most wondrous to fill a notebook in your age of machines and dead things when no man knoweth his Lord, nor whence come what is good, nor all that is evil.
Adumbrated – that is the word we use to depict your realm, for under shadow it is, and should be forever, and for all that nonetheless it is not forsaken, but remains in the eye-space of Eru, most glorious and patient, loving, merciful above all. Glorious also is your realm, for here indeed came Eru-as-a-man, to learn those evil things befallen his children, and to succor them in their infirmities, weakness wrought of his own method, to bring to pass the wonder of his work: the raising of all mankind to a spiritual life, while yet raised up in the flesh by Him begotten.
Adumbrated – foreshadowed in the life and course of Eru is the career of Thingol – beset by woes and made miserable, a man of sorrows, not himself sorrowful, born, of no womb, and in dying, regaining all that was promised, yet by no hand given, save his own, in giving, received a fullness of joy, hating even then the darkness, though upon his heart it came never, nor did that unlight comprehend him, so filled with love was it [heart], and so, a mystery yet unfolding in thy days, a-glowing, though no man knows whence comes this peace, freely given, and adumbrating happier days to come, to light the years even after the darkening of days, soon upon us.
… [F]ear not for thy household, for food and cloth, warmth and joy shall rain down, in merriment as in olden days of Bliss, before Utumno set his black feet upon the sand-shores of Our Realm Ancient, to burn there with a heat seeming everlasting, but it was not so: For Egalmoth the brave and Ecthelion, and many honored still among Gondolindri, these noble ones hunted out in the deep places all that could be discerned, and in finding one, did kill it.
Yet even as it has been told, a vengeance did one Gothmog take, spiteful and willed, to drive out all Noldo, and yet, more so did this wickedness upon the Air drive out flesh of monstrous forms, and only in this was the Day of Man opened, at last, and the coming of Eru inevitable.
He was slain for the sins of the world, meaning, in dying, brought redemption (as you understand that word), a new chapter unforeseen by any Ainur in the Chambers of Music in Before Days, when all – it was believed – had been sung that would be, ever was or shall come hither. Yet it was not so comprehensive, for Eru is crafty, willful beyond all who would frustrate every other, even the greatest in our realm – Manwe Blessed, Varda-Antique (of old), the children mighty upon Arda, or under her stars a-smiling. None may delay his designs, when his heart is set to turn about the potter’s wheel, and there to throw something new, never before conceived; for though none among us purport (or without laughter in joy, denying so) to comprehend fully how this ease comes to Him, it is so; perhaps He is One with all that is, and all therefore is in some unknown measure, an instrument to his discovery, most compelling, artful, and giving of Lore of Wisdom.
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