The legendarium under a dualistic interpretation

Imagine, if you will, that before the celestial choir of the Ainur began its harmonious song under the guiding light of Eru Ilúvatar, there existed an undercurrent—a dark counterpoint echoing from the void. In a manner reminiscent of Zoroastrian dualism, where light and shadow are locked in an eternal cosmic dance, one might speculate that creation itself bore the faint imprint of a malevolent twin to Eru—a being we could call Aruä.

In this speculative narrative, Aruä is not a rival in a contest of equal power but rather a primordial echo, an inherent aspect of the universe’s birth that sought to disrupt the pristine melody of creation. While Eru’s design is pure, purposeful, and luminous, Aruä’s influence seeps in like a dissonant note, hidden in the subtext of the divine music—a murmur of chaos that would eventually manifest in the unspeakable horrors lurking deep beneath the world.

One way to imagine this undercurrent is as an inherent aspect of creation itself—a counterbalance woven into the fabric of existence. Just as the rising sun casts long, inevitable shadows, the act of creation may be inseparable from the seed of its own undoing. In this view, the void is not simply an inert emptiness but a potent, almost sentient force that embodies the nature of entropy: a cosmic pull toward dissolution. Every spark of life or order, no matter how brilliantly lit, sets in motion the slow march toward decay, as if the void itself hungers to reclaim the energy and matter it once knew. The emergence of this dark echo at the dawn of creation could be seen as a necessary corollary—a built-in counterpoint to the divine melody, ensuring that nothing can remain untouched by the inexorable tide of chaos.

Alternatively, one might consider the void as an ancient entity with its own inscrutable will—a being that does not merely allow existence, but actively resists it. In this narrative, the void is not indifferent but possesses a subtle, latent desire to reabsorb and reconstitute what has been brought forth. It is as if the void, disturbed by the intrusion of structured creation, retaliates with the force of entropy—a cosmic correction that seeks to restore a primordial state of unfettered chaos. Here, the undercurrent exists because creation, by its very nature, disrupts an eternal, equilibrium-seeking force. This delicate and perpetual dance between emergence and dissolution reminds us that the universe is a battleground of competing wills, where every act of bringing forth light is inevitably shadowed by the desire to return to the silent, all-consuming void.

Under this lens, consider the enigmatic figure of Ungoliant. Traditionally shrouded in mystery, she could be reimagined as not a creature born merely of shadow, but as one of Aruä’s very own Maiar—an emissary of that ancient discord. Her boundless, consuming darkness becomes a fragment of Aruä’s corrupt essence, a living testament to a malign design that predates even the fall of Melkor. It is conceivable, then, that Melkor’s own corruption was not solely a matter of pride or free will but was, in part, the seductive lure of Aruä’s underlying dissonance—a whisper that promised power beyond the confines of Eru’s harmonious vision.

Thus, the nameless things that dwell in the deep places of the earth—the eldritch horrors that gnaw at the boundaries of mortal understanding—could be seen as residual echoes of this primordial discord. They are the unbidden aftermath of a dark refrain, ancient remnants of an early cosmic struggle where even the purest light had its shadow. Their existence is not an anomaly but rather the lingering reverberations of a forgotten, bifurcated creation—a narrative where good and evil are intertwined from the very first note sung into being.

In this reimagining, the struggle between order and chaos is woven into the very fabric of existence. Eru’s radiant purpose is forever balanced by a secret, insidious counter-melody—a cosmic duality that offers one possible explanation for the pervasive presence of evil in the world. Whether one accepts this theory or not, it undeniably adds another layer of mystery and wonder to the vast tapestry of Tolkien’s legendarium, inviting us to ponder the hidden depths of creation and the ancient forces that continue to shape the fate of Middle-earth.