What If Morgoth Had Remained in Chains?
Sometimes I wonder what the world of Arda would have become if Manwë had not shown mercy. If Melkor — already Morgoth — had remained forever imprisoned in the halls of Mandos. If he had never been released... and never whispered his poison into the hearts of the Noldor.
What then?
🌳 The Trees Would Still Shine
Telperion and Laurelin would continue to bloom, their silver and golden lights weaving a rhythm like the very breath of the world. There would be no need for Sun or Moon, for Life itself still glowed through the leaves.
A world without sunrise… but also without sunset.
Middle-earth would have remained in eternal twilight. A starlit world, echoing with elven songs, soft and slow. No harsh light. No merciless ticking of time divided into days and nights. A world where all things ripen gently. Where history breathes like a lullaby.
🧝‍♂️ The Noldor Would Have Stayed
Fëanor, proud as he was, would have remained a master craftsman — brilliant but uncorrupted. He would still have forged the Silmarils — yes, they would be born in his fire — but they would not have been cursed.
Without Morgoth whispering in shadow:
“Do the Valar not keep you caged in gold? Do you not deserve more?”
...there would be no Kinslaying at Alqualondë. No Oath. No exile. And thus, the songs of Gondolin would never drift across the winds of Beleriand. And Eärendil would never have sailed into the stars.
But isn’t it bitter — to realize that without sorrow, hope might never be born?
🌓 No Sun — No Men?
Eru intended for Men to awaken at the first sunrise. But what if the Sun never rose?
They would have remained sleeping somewhere in the East, untouched by fate. The world would stand still — perfect, but unmoving. Like a flower trapped in amber.
Without Men — their striving, their mortality, their fire and fallibility — Arda would remain pure… and empty.
🧙‍♂️ The Irony of Elven Tragedy
We like to say evil is a wound. But in Tolkien’s world, evil is also a catalyst. Without Morgoth, there is no Fall — but there are no heroes. Without the Silmarils stolen from the ancient light, there is no eternal light borne by Eärendil through the night of time. No Sun, no hope, no becoming. Only a perfect, sacred stillness.
In such an Arda, there would be no war. But there would be no songs either.
Sometimes I think: maybe Manwë knew Morgoth would lie again. Maybe the Valar allowed evil back into the world not out of naivety, but out of necessity. Because only through ash can the new be born. Only from darkness does light gain meaning.
🌌 In that world, Arda would be a paradise. But there would be no heroes. And no us either.
