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.

Lo, even as he touched that cruel hurt, a light glowed faintly there as if radiant sap still stirred within, but a low branch above Lуrien’s bowed head burgeoned suddenly, and leaves of a very dark green, long and oval, budded and unfolded upon it, yet was all the Tree beside bare and dead and has ever been so since. Now it was at that time seven times seven days since the fruit of noon was born upon Laurelin, and many of the Eldar and of the sprites and of the Gods were drawn nigh, listening to Lуrien’s song; but he heeded them not, gazing upon the Tree.

Lo, its new leaves were crusted with a silver moisture, and their undersides were white and set with pale gleaming filaments. Buds there were of flowers also upon the bough, and they opened, but a dark mist of the sea gathered about the tree, and the air grew bitterly cold as it never before had been in Valinor, and those blossoms faded and fell and none heeded them. One only was there at the branch’s end that opening shone of its own light and no mist or cold harmed it, but indeed waxing it seemed to suck the very vapours and transform them subtly to the silver substance of its body; and it grew to be a very pale and wondrous glistering flower, nor did even the purest snow upon Taniquetil gleaming in the light of Silpion out-rival it, and its heart was of white flame and it throbbed, waxing and waning marvellously. Then said Lуrien for the joy of his heart: “Behold the Rose of Silpion”, and that rose grew till the fruit of Laurelin had been but little greater, and ten thousand crystal petals were in that flower, and it was drenched in a fragrant dew like honey and this dew was light. Now Lуrien would suffer none to draw near, and this will he rue for ever: for the branch upon which the Rose hung yielded all its sap and withered, nor even yet would he suffer that blossom to be plucked gently down, being enamoured of its loveliness and lusting to see it grow mightier than the fruit of noon, more glorious than the Sun.

Then snapped the withered bough and the Rose of Silpion fell, and some of its dewy light was roughly shaken from it, and here and there a petal was crushed and tarnished, and Lуrien cried aloud and sought to lift it gently up, but it was too great. Therefore did the Gods let send to Aulл’s halls, for there was a great silver charger, like to a table of the giants, and they set the latest bloom of Silpion upon it, and despite its hurts its glory and fragrance and pale magic were very great indeed.

Now when Lуrien had mastered his grief and ruth he spake the counsel that Ulmo’s words had called to his heart: that the Gods build another vessel to match the galleon of the Sun, “and it shall be made from the Rose of Silpion,” said he, “and in memory of the waxing and waning of these Trees for twelve hours shall the Sunship sail the heavens and leave Valinor, and for twelve shall Silpion’s pale bark mount the skies, and there shall be rest for tired eyes and weary hearts.”

This then was the manner of the shaping of the Moon, for Aulл would not dismember the loveliness of the Rose of Silver, and he called rather to him certain of those Eldar of his household who were of the Noldoli of old¹⁵ and had consorted with the jewel-makers. Now these revealed to him much store of crystals and delicate glasses that Fлanor and his sons¹⁶ had laid up in secret places in Sirnъmen, and with the aid of those Elves and of Varda of the stars, who gave even of the light of those frail boats of hers to give limpid clearness to their fashioning, he brought to being a substance thin as a petal of a rose, clear as the most transparent elfin glass, and very smooth, yet might Aulл of his skill bend it and fashion it, and naming it he called it vнrin. Of vнrin now he built a marvellous vessel, and often have men spoken of the Ship of the Moon, yet is it scarce like to any bark that sailed or sea or air. Rather was it like an island of pure glass, albeit not very great, and tiny lakes there were bordered with snowy flowers that shone, for the water of those pools that gave them sap was the radiance of Telimpл. Midmost of that shimmering isle was wrought a cup of that crystalline stuff that Aulл made and therein the magic Rose was set, and the glassy body of the vessel sparkled wonderfully as it gleamed therein. Rods there were and perchance they were of ice, and they rose upon it like aлry masts, and sails were caught to them by slender threads, and Uinen wove them of white mists and foam, and some were sprent with glinting scales of silver fish, some threaded with tiniest stars like points of light—sparks caught in snow when Nielluin was shining.