Elendil the Insufferable Lying Bastard: Historical Bias in the Akallabêth (Part Three)

This is a further continuation of my series on implicit narrative bias in the Akallabêth. Or, more accurately, a gruelling page by page study of Elendil as an in-universe historical source. For the earlier parts, see here:

• https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/01/30/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-one/
• https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/01/31/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-two/

Page 327

We have reached a further turning point in Elendil’s morality play – the point at which mere human failings (real or alleged) have become subsumed by bona fide demonic influence. As made quite clear in the previous discussion, Elendil despises Pharazôn on political, factional, religious, and probably personal grounds, but here he is ratcheting up the gleeful condemnation to new heights. For Elendil, Pharazôn’s previous sins have rendered him uniquely vulnerable to such developments – the King’s Men have fallen under Sauron’s influence, whereas the Faithful still resist – though as previously argued, he neglects to consider the role of the One Ring as a tool of domination.

Elendil’s implication is that such monstrosities are fundamentally rooted in Man’s rejection of Higher Authority – an argument made by many people in real-life, of course. And there is indeed a legitimate case that the ban on Elvish languages cut Númenor off from ancient First Age texts, which might otherwise have made the King and his fellows more wary of Sauron. The problem is that the sheer thematic weight of his religious themes overwhelms Elendil’s ability to analyse events at a more nuanced level. He becomes a polemicist, rather than an historian, a man more obsessed with lectures and lessons than achieving a proper understanding of the past. He never considers whether Sauron found Númenor’s Faithful minority more useful as political scapegoats than as potential converts. Sauron is, fundamentally, a cynical pragmatist at heart.

This is also the point at which Elendil introduces direct quotations into his text for a second time. Here he cites Sauron’s own words to Pharazôn, whereby the Dark Lord references the name of Melkor, while dismissing Eru as a mere invention of the Valar to keep Men in servitude. Pharazôn clearly knows of Eärendil, and that his ancestors fought alongside the Elves long ago, but luckily for Sauron, one suspects the King did not have substantial knowledge of the First Age – or at least the time-gap was so distant that Sauron could reasonably suggest that matters had been misreported, or those ancient Men tragically duped by the Valar’s propaganda.

Quite apart from the point that Sauron clearly understands human psychology far better than the Valar, the curious thing is that Elendil describes this conversation as taking place behind “locked doors.” If so, how does Elendil know of it, to the point where he is able to record Sauron’s own supposed words?

The answer would appear to be that Elendil’s father, Amandil, was spying on the King, either in person or via a trusted confidante. The “locked doors” nature of the conversation implies that Sauron wanted to talk to Pharazôn and only Pharazôn, without having anyone else around to gainsay him. Sauron, after all, would have been taking a risk by talking about Melkor to the Númenoreans – who, had they still studied and revered ancient Elvish texts, would have taken that as a clear sign of malevolence, no matter how Sauron would have tried to fudge things via appeals to the mists of time.

In any case, Amandil or his assistant were certainly listening in, and given that this was not the first time information has leaked back to the Faithful, one might speculate that the Lords of Andúnië perhaps had some hidden compartment in the Palace. It is likely still too early to speculate about the use of the palantiri (Of the Rings of Power, and the Third Age, p.352.). That would come later, when Sauron and his agents had rendered physical contact between Elves and Men too dangerous for either.

The narrative says Amandil is dismissed from Pharazôn’s Council soon after. Elendil – who treats his father with complete adoration – cites the King’s earlier friendship with him, and puts the dismissal down to Sauron’s malign influence. Sauron hated Amandil, apparently, but the Lord was too popular and respected for actual arrest.

In light of Amandil’s espionage activities, one might propose an alternative course of events – namely that Sauron actually had some talent for counter-intelligence, realised that Pharazôn had a spy in his midst, and was able to “out” Amandil to the King. Pharazôn’s solution was to then sadly dismiss his old friend, but he would not take further action on account of that friendship. This would have also confirmed Sauron’s worth in Pharazôn’s eyes, sending him further down the dark path.

But Elendil would never demean his beloved father, so he straight-out lies to his reader rather than besmirch the reputation of Amandil. Elendil must be treated as an unreliable narrator, even during the events of his own lifetime.

Meanwhile, this is also the page where Elendil introduces himself and his family – or at least his father and sons. Not his wife, for some reason, though given his treatment of Miriel, one might speculate that Elendil possessed a misogynistic streak on top of all his other character quirks. Elendil informs us that both he and his father were “great sea-captains”, and were of the Line of Elros, albeit not royals. Clearly, Elendil was not immune to the sin of Pride for which he so condemns Pharazôn (recall too, his strange flex about height. Elendil sorely lacks self-awareness).

I would also suggest that Elendil, notwithstanding his idolisation of Old Númenor, is also, to some degree, a product of the new and changed world he loathes so much. The era of “great sea captains” was not a fundamental part of Old Númenor, as it was initiated by Elros, but was rather something birthed by Aldarion and his successors, centuries later. One might recall that Aldarion’s change in policy – from isolationism towards active involvement in Middle-earth’s affairs – was also a root of Númenor’s evolution into an Imperial power, and thus something that brought its people into confrontation with Sauron of Mordor. Elendil emphasising his sea-credentials shows that he too belongs to that post-Aldarion era, the time of the shadow of the Shadow, and not the preceding time of quiet (and pious) isolationism.

Page 328

Here we encounter the tale of Isildur and the White Tree. This really does confirm Elendil’s authorship of the text, since it would have only been the knowledge of his immediate family. The sapling’s leaf unfurling at the same time as Isildur’s recovery is, of course, cited as a sign of favour by Elendil – a narrator always eager to claim Divine Validation for his faction. Whether the reader ought to take his claims at face value is another matter, however. One should always recall that this is a text with an agenda.

(Meanwhile, the fact that Amandil recalls the Two Trees of Valinor indeed confirms that the Faithful preserved knowledge of First Age material beyond merely Eärendil and the War of Wrath).

We also learn something of Sauron’s modus operandi on Númenor – not through Elendil’s own analysis but indirectly through his descriptions of actual events. Sauron seems particularly keen on securing the ‘holy sites’ of the Faithful. Meneltarma is established as being off-limits, under pain of death, while Nimloth the White Tree is placed under armed guard. To what purpose? Sauron wants to deprive his opponents of their cultural symbols, as a means of disheartening them, and of separating the people from their past. Again, this is a villain who understands human psychology. Meanwhile, he is working on Pharazôn incrementally – he cannot defile Meneltarma, nor destroy the White Tree. Not yet. But he can persuade the King to take half-measures in that direction. Piecemeal corruption… what Yes Minister called ‘salami tactics’. Sauron is a very clever fellow, and he has plenty of time to work with.

The page concludes with Pharazôn finally caving on the White Tree Question. Elendil mocks Pharazôn for his previous hesitation, because even when the King actually resists Sauron’s advice (Sauron with the One Ring, no less!), he can never do anything to please our narrator.

What Elendil ignores is that the King’s Men spent a millennia or more paying lip-service to ancient Númenorean custom – not out of sincere belief, as the Faithful do, but out of inertia and residual superstition. It is why King after King continued to record his name in Quenya. Pharazôn not wanting to cut down Nimloth (quite apart from Tar-Palantir’s famous prophecy) is entirely consistent with that pattern of royal behaviour, and would have been unremarkable in any other context. The really remarkable thing is that Pharazôn’s residual superstition lasted as long as it did, in the face of such immense pressure. Not that Elendil would be inclined to give his enemy any credit.

Page 329

And now we come to that most infamous of Númenorean architectural developments… the Temple of Melkor. The delightfully blasphemous symbol of all that was morally wrong with the Kingdom in its last few decades, and the polar opposite in many respects of Meneltarma (indoor space versus open air, smoke-filled darkness versus clear sunlight, blood offering versus fruit offering, man-made construction versus natural site). I have also previously speculated that Tolkien might have picked up some debris from early twentieth century Theosophy here (https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2020/05/22/an-octopus-gardener-tolkien-and-atlantis/).

Elendil provides curiously elaborate details about the Temple’s dimensions, together with its construction. This is rather reminiscent of various segments of the Old Testament, which detail the size and length of certain buildings and objects, and again reinforces Elendil’s profoundly Biblical worldview. Remember that he, like Gildas, has taken on the role of Grumpy Man On the Sidelines, condemning the moral corruption of his people, and arguing that proper deference to Higher Authority will see prosperity, and improper deviations will see Punishment. This is a narrator who derives enormous symbolic meaning from his son’s recovery coinciding with the unfurling of a leaf. Unsurprisingly, he also sees copious symbolism in the burning of Nimloth – the foul smell, the seven-day cloud, and the passage of the smoke into the West (towards Valinor…).

With the scene-setting out the way, Elendil then dives into the cheerful blasphemy and moral outrage of human sacrifice. For a change, he does not blame Pharazôn directly, but rather presents this as the Work of Sauron, Servant of Melkor. Númenor must suffer for these vile transgressions against God… and sure enough, Elendil does not disappoint with his dystopic descriptions of the madness that now grips Men. Nor does he forget to blame the people themselves for succumbing to sin, explicitly noting that they are afraid to depart into the realm of the lord they have taken. In short, the Númenoreans have made their bed with Melkor-worship, so now let them lie in it.

This is also the counter-point to Elendil’s idolisation of Old Númenor – he wishes to contrast the present impiety (and its consequences) with past piety (and its consequences), and the more grotesque the Present the better the Past. All the better for his overarching morality tale, of course. The problem is that Elendil’s view of Númenor’s past is profoundly rose-tinted, and distorted by millennia of distance. Could Elendil be similarly exaggerating the modern Númenorean Dystopia? Perhaps. Elendil has no political or narrative reason to downplay such unpleasant social developments. However, since he is now reporting ‘current events’, I feel it only fair to attach greater weight to this description than his earlier nostalgic imaginings. Old Númenor might have been messier and more human than our narrator suggests, but Númenor with Sauron is clearly not a cheerful place, for either the Faithful or for the King’s Men.

We also, again, see Sauron’s extremely shrewd handling of the corruption process. He does not associate the human sacrifices with a compulsion to worship Melkor – of course not, since that would taint his religion in popular consciousness, and potentially lead to civil resistance (quite apart from the more theological point that he is damning the Númenoreans via their own free will). No, Sauron goes to some lengths to emphasise that the victims of the sacrifices are fundamentally Bad People. These are not heroic resistors to a new and foreign religion. These are traitors to the King, poisoners, plotters. Haters of their kin. Such people deserve punishment, surely… so why not kill two birds with one stone and sacrifice them to Melkor, Giver of Freedom? Sauron does not even exclusively target the Faithful, which allows him to maintain an insincere veneer of factional impartiality. Insincere, because, as Elendil (probably correctly) thinks, the Faithful were being disproportionately persecuted.

Elendil also notes that the charges against the victims were generally false. But accusations can be powerful things in a society run on fear and paranoia – where everyone expects the worst of everyone else, and is more than happy to denounce lest they themselves be denounced. A social licence to condemn others without negative consequence – and indeed a society that endorses such behaviour as morally righteous and religiously-backed – ties into a very dark part of human psychology. The desire to conform runs deep, and Sauron knew his human psychology very well.

(Interestingly even Elendil implicitly admits that there were some genuine plots too – “hate brings forth hate.” One imagines Pharazôn himself lived in constant terror, with Sauron filling his head with accounts of secret rebels under every bed. Lucky there was a convenient way of dealing with such traitors, right?).

Page 330

Elendil revisits the matter of Númenorean Imperialism in the era of Sauron. He notes, of course, that Sauron has brought further technological sophistication to Númenor – one of Tolkien’s thematic constants in the Númenor story, dating back to the era when it was still The Lost Road. But whereas there it was still possible to imagine a bizarre steampunk Númenor, here Elendil is both more tame and more vague in his commentary. Suffice to say that Sauron – a creature driven to dominate wills – is particularly adept at devising fresh means of dominating nature, and obtaining profit thereby. Elendil, as someone who abhors worldly materialism – and who has considered the King’s Men guilty of this for a millennium or more – is appalled.

We get Elendil’s account of colonialism being dialled up to new and disturbing levels. As I have previously noted, I do not think that Elendil’s views of the matter are normally reliable – the new Númenorean colonialism differs from the old only in degree and not in kind. Extraction of wealth and resources was always at the heart of the project, dating back to Aldarion and his need for trees to run his fleet. What differs now is, of course, the efficiency – Pharazôn was never shy about taking what he wanted, and now Sauron allows him to take even more – plus the newfound religious element. The Temple of Melkor was clearly not the only one of its kind, and the Númenoreans were keen on making their little Melkor cult global. On that point I see little reason to doubt Elendil’s claim that the Men of Middle-earth were being sacrificed on altars.

(Given the dangers of home, it is even possible that Elendil became acquainted with such things personally on a visit to Middle-earth, albeit I think it more likely that he confined himself to Lindon and is simply reporting general gossip from, say, trading acquaintances).

Nor do I see much cause to doubt Elendil’s assessment that Pharazôn had now become “the mightiest tyrant since the reign of Morgoth” – albeit Elendil means this as a moral condemnation via comparison with Morgoth, rather than as a pure statement of power. And, of course, Elendil goes on to state that Sauron was ruling all from behind the throne. That too is a fair assessment, while at the same time making the overall passage yet another jab at the old enemy. Even when Pharazôn accumulates more power and wealth than any of his predecessors, Elendil chooses to rip his success away from him, by comparing him morally to the First Dark Lord and calling him a thrall to the Second. Beware of Elendil’s backhanded praise – it can be worse than his explicit insults.

Elendil fast-forwards to the point at which Pharazôn has begun to grow old – and supposedly filled with fear and wrath. Given the sheer paranoia now surrounding the Royal Court in Armenelos, this cannot have been direct interaction with the King, but rather a report of further gossip – the dismissal of Amandil might not have meant the expulsion of all Faithful spies from the Palace. Or alternatively, and indeed this appears very likely, Elendil’s family have received the palantiri from the Elves (On the Rings of Power and the Third Age, p.352.), and are using these devices to keep track of Sauron and Pharazôn.

We know from The Lord of the Rings that while the palantiri are most useful in communicating with each other (and thus the primary purpose of the gift was to allow Amandil to communicate with Tol Eressëa), they do have the ability to spy out other things – hence Denethor’s notorious powers of perception. As such, I must correct an earlier error – Elendil could indeed have known of Miriel’s demise, assuming he was keeping a palantir focused on the Meneltarma during the Downfall – but we shall discuss that later. For now, I think it more than possible that this was the primary device used by the Faithful leadership to keep track of their political enemies.

This would also explain Elendil’s knowledge of yet another piece of Sauronian dialogue, specifically the famous speech where he urges Pharazôn to invade Valinor, in order to claim immortality by force. The text emphasises that the King shared this notion with no-one else… and yet somehow the Faithful knew of what had been discussed. Amandil with a palantir is by far the best explanation, to the point where it might have immediately led to the dialogue on the following two pages.

(Though I do think Elendil is rubbing Pharazôn’s advancing age in his face, with his description of the King’s besottedness. He might no longer be the handsome young general who charmed Númenor many years earlier, and is now an ageing paranoid tyrant, but he is hardly “witless and unmanned,” a la the Atanamir slander. He still has the capability of commanding the invasion of Valinor, in person).

**

Another break for length. Fortunately, I should be able to finish off this series next time.

Addendum: The two earlier Parts are linked at the top of this post. Here is the fourth Part: https://phuulishfellow.wordpress.com/2022/02/07/elendil-the-insufferable-lying-bastard-historical-bias-in-the-akallabeth-part-four/

• February 1, 2022
• Reading, Tolkien essays
• 6 Comments