In this series of blogs, I explore the detailed musical depths of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. For a comprehensive look at my score for the series, explore my previous blog entries here, and check out the soundtrack albums (a compilation for each season and a comprehensive album for each episode) available on all platforms.
SCORING EPISODE 202
“WHERE THE STARS ARE STRANGE”
The season premiere, “Elven Kings Under the Sky,” focused predominantly on Sauron’s backstory, and the difficult decision of the Elves of Lindon to wear the three Rings of Power. Musically, I teased out a couple new musical ideas in that episode, but mostly focused on developing and recontextualizing familiar themes from the first season. The season’s second episode, “Where the Stars Are Strange,” takes the audience into new, uncharted territory, narratively, geographically, and yes, musically.
DARKNESS IN KHAZAD-DÛM
SPOILERS AHEAD: The episode begins as black smoke from Mount Doom slithers across the map towards Khazad-dûm, foreshadowing Sauron’s influence. As a fan, I was thrilled to once again return to the mighty halls of Khazad-dûm, so thrilled in fact, that I composed a majestic new rendition of the Khazad-dûm theme, in which the melody rocketed forth from anthemic brass. Thankfully, I can always rely on the narrative instincts of showunners J.D. Payne and Patrick McKay, who immediately pointed out that I was not actually scoring the story at hand, but instead writing music for my fanboy feelings about this iconic Tolkien location. I laughed, and blushed, realizing they were correct. So, I set aside my new Khazad-dûm anthem (it would eventually return in “Doomed to Die”), and started over.
The episode begins as black smoke from Mount Doom slithers across the map towards Khazad-dûm, foreshadowing Sauron’s influence. In version two of this opening cue, the incessantly urgent strings of the Sauron ostinato ignite in the low strings, creating a feeling of foreboding dread, while low male singers offer the ominous tones of the Sauron theme in Black Speech, Tolkien’s language of Mordor.
Black Speech:
Burzum kurgrimpat,
burzum ozguyat.
Grithum ozgat, ghubagdafat,
pushnothul higthu.
English:
Encroaching darkness,
Darkness spreading.
Reach of evil, unrelenting,
Evil approaches.
The camera swoops through the kingdom’s mighty Eastern gate and down into the depths of the Dwarven utopia, a sprawling city filled with bustling citizens, lights, waterfalls, and agriculture, and yet the strings continue to scream the Sauron ostinato. A mighty phalanx of brass offer the Khazad-dûm theme, fractured to fit Sauron’s jagged 7/8 rhythmic meter. The score announces unambiguously that the Dwarven kingdom is on a collision course with Sauron. At the climax, the choral men chant with Dwarf-like percussive rhythms, but offer ill omens in the language of Mordor.
Black Speech:
Zûd Búgash, pushnothul higthu.
Burzum kurgrimpat burzumish glufúshak.
English:
Mount Doom, evil approaches.
Encroaching darkness, eclipsed by darkness.
This bombastic fanfare snaps to an abrupt conclusion as the camera settles on a Dwarven marketplace, and the audience is reunited with Durin and Disa. As if the previous cue were just a bad dream, the score reverts to a charming statement of Durin’s theme, performed by my friend and collaborator since college, Eric Byers, on solo cello, supported by hammered dulcimers, and viola da gamba courtesy of my longtime friend and early-music expert, Malachai Komanoff Bandy. Their unique performances gave Prince Durin his musical soul last season, so I was thrilled to welcome them back.
The mood is broken by a devastating earthquake that shatters bridges and collapses the vital light shafts that provide the only sunlight for the subterranean kingdom. Suddenly, Khazad-dûm rests in eerie blackness—the vibrant city has become a tomb. Low male singers lament “Zhîbal nagt,” meaning “Shaking earth” in Tolkien’s Dwarven language Khuzdul.
Later, King Durin is troubled when consulting his Delve-master Narvi, played charmingly by Kevin Eldon, marking this legendary Tolkien character’s first onscreen appearance. The King, desperate to find new light shafts, entertains Disa’s suggestion to let her trio of Stone Singers communicate with the rocks through their resonating voices.
Like “Golden Leaves” in the season premiere, this song would need to be sung onscreen, and so had to be written before cameras rolled. Once again, I worked closely with the cast to ensure they could create the musical performance the drama required. Sophia Nomvete, who plays Disa, and I became friends after our collaboration last season. (She is truly one of the most delightful people I have ever worked with!) Together, we brainstormed ideas for how we could make this season’s vocals even more visually and musically exciting. I suggested we use clashing harmonies to build an increasing sense of resonance and power.
One of the most interesting acoustic properties of soundwaves is that differently pitched notes will either cancel out, or augment, others when they clash, creating “beats” in the sound. I envisioned the singers forming a series of clusters designed in such a way that the conflicting tones created pulses that increase in intensity and frequency. I wanted to create music that would help the audience understand the singers were piercing deeper and deeper into the rocks, like a musical X-ray.
Working with the showrunners and Tolkien language experts, we narrowed the lyrics down to a single word. In Tolkien’s Dwarven language of Khuzdul, “Meshard” means “Promise.” I felt this word suggested that the Stone Singers were making a promise to the mountain itself, to be respectful and grateful if it would grant them the knowledge to save their civilization.
To further raise the musical stakes, this time Disa would not be singing solo. She would be joined by two compatriots, played by Rachel Payne and Laura-Jane Mitchell. The three women gathered in a studio in London, while I monitored remotely from my studio in Los Angeles, offering feedback and guidance. We decided that we wanted to record the three actors simultaneously, for an authentic sense of communication among the singers. We let the actors sing together, so they could gradually find the pacing of the performance as an actual musical trio. Sophia guided the trio with her voice and body language, indicating the point at which their voices should break apart and the song should fail. (Because there was no guiding click track, each take had a unique length. My favorite take from this session was a bit longer than the edit ultimately needed, so I placed it instead on the main soundtrack album.)
Sophia, Rachel, and Laura-Jane created a masterful performance in that studio together. I listened from across the world, and offered a few suggestions on dynamics, expression, and dramatic intention, but I mostly got to sit back and enjoy witnessing the performance coming to life. The oscillating beats in their voices increased intensity just as I had hoped. A few weeks later, when the day came to get into costume and step onto the set, they sang the performance live. I like to think that the wooden walls of the soundstage began to shudder against the power of their voices!
Their singing was meant to find new light shafts, but alas, it only succeeded in collapsing the last remaining one. A desperate King Durin will now be forced to make difficult decisions for the sake of his people, a state that will ultimately lead him into Sauron’s manipulations. His scenes throughout this episode, as in season one, are supported by solemn quotations of the Khazad-dûm theme, in the rich, warm instrumental colors of bassoons, trombones, celli, and basses, while male singers offer wise words in Khuzdul.
As with last season, the Prince Durin theme is at odds with his father’s music. In this episode, his theme makes an appearance in melancholy refrains as Disa tries to convince her husband to swallow his pride and speak with his father for all their sakes.
I wanted to ensure that the Khazad-dûm theme and Durin themes were presented here in faithful representations of their season-one arrangements. I hoped to familiarize the audience with them again before I introduced new musical variations later in the season, when Rings of Power complicate their relationship.
GLIMPSES OF THE UNSEEN WORLD
Back in Lindon, a gentle flute solo offers Galadriel’s theme as she ceremoniously buries alfirin seeds in the warm earth at the root of the tree honoring her fallen brother, Finrod. This flute solo harkens directly back to the series premiere, when the audience was introduced to her as a little girl, sitting by her brother’s side. I hoped its presence here would help viewers feel her pang of loss and nostalgia. But this moment is revealed to be a nightmare as Celebrimbor makes a surprise entrance to the woods. As vines wrap sinisterly and metaphorically around Celebrimbor, he recites the text of Tolkien’s famous ring verse in Black Speech, the language of Mordor. Fiona Apple sang this lyric in English at the end of the first season, and choirs have offered its ominous Black Speech translation dozens of times in the score. However, this marks the first time a character has actually spoken these lines that are known so well to Tolkien fans.
Galadriel awakens to find herself in a war council with High King Gil-galad, who observes her mind wandering. Later, Galadriel and Gil-galad confess their common experience of visions since they put on the rings. Here, the Rings theme chords sigh with a gentle tone that oscillates between angelic and foreboding. As Gil-galad warns her of Sauron’s poisonous power to deceive, the choir uses his own dialogue to support his case, singing in Quenya, “Mori lumbor hostar or i ninqui mindoni,” meaning “Black clouds gather over the white towers.”
Galadriel, confident her ring is warning her Sauron will return to Eregion, proposes she be allowed to journey to the realm to warn Celebrimbor. Gil-galad agrees on the condition that she convince Elrond to go with her.
In one of the episode’s most moving scenes, Galadriel approaches Elrond, who has taken up apprenticeship at Círdan’s shipyard. Portrayed with moving vulnerability by Morfydd Clark, she confesses, “Sauron used me, and under his hand I was played like a harp to a melody not of my choosing.” Here, I turned her metaphor into a literal reality—a solo harp gently plucks the notes of the Sauron theme, soaked in eerie, unnatural reverb.
The Galadriel theme and the Elrond theme weave and clash throughout their tense conversation. After denying her, Elrond seeks counsel from Círdan, who offers wise perspective on the rings. As he dips his ring-adorned hand into a tide pool to demonstrate the ring’s uncanny ability to influence life, swirling orchestral strings mimic the movements of his hand in the tidepool while an ethereal choir sings the Rings theme chords. They gently offer the Quenya text “Telepta estel, oialëa kala,” meaning “Silver hope, eternal light.”
Círdan’s words inspire Elrond to take up Galadriel’s offer, though it will not be in the way she expected.
REALM OF THE ELVEN-SMITHS
Though Eregion is a location the narrative has visited several times thus far, this episode marks the first time it merited its own theme. This season, the city itself becomes a character. Even with this short thematic introduction here, I am laying the groundwork for what I hope will be heartbreaking musical variations to come later in the season. As the camera floats down from gilded towers and domes to settle on Celebrimbor’s smith Mirdania, audiences are treated to the first phrases of the Eregion theme.
I strove to capture the realm’s inherent beauty and serenity, by offering distantly related major chords. To root the realm in pure Elven heritage, the theme borrows musical aspects from other Elven themes in the score: the ethereal children’s choir of the Valinor theme, and the noble octave leap from the Galadriel theme. I wanted a shorthand way to communicate that this peaceful place is a cultural center where Elven artists and thinkers congregate. I also hope the delicate nature of this music hints at the realm’s physical vulnerability that will come into play later in the season.
For the Eregion theme, the children’s choir pays tribute to the realm with a Quenya text.
Quenya:
Anwa mírë Eldanóreva,
nostamen túrëo
Ilvanië sis, lalámala,
an aranielya.
I ainima oialëa kala
karila túre túra.
kala alfírima.
Anwa mírë Eldanóreva,
I lúme antúla.
Marda Eldarinwa tamoron.
Vinya tië, ainima. Oia kala.
English:
The very jewel of Elvendom,
birthplace of power.
Perfection is here, echoing,
for your Kingdom.
The blessed eternal light
Creating a great power.
Light undying.
The very jewel of Elvendom,
The time draws near.
Home of the Elven smiths.
A new path, blessed. Eternal light.
Beneath the floating children’s voices, blurry string tremolo lines flutter like butterflies, inspired by the French impressionistic writing of Debussy and Ravel. Even though the city is bunkered safely behind a stone wall and a mighty river, I hope the music suggests the city’s beauty is fragile, like a flower that must be sheltered from the wind.
THE LANDS OF RHÛN
The story jumps from Eregion to a masked soldier, riding a horse across a sandy landscape before a blood-red sky. New musical colors, hinted at briefly in the last episode, engulf the soundtrack. The Rhûn theme will come to represent the mysterious land to the east of Tolkien’s map, in particular, the large area of it under the control of a mysterious Dark Wizard.
When I composed the first season, I used every musical color I could think of to represent the different races and realms of Middle-earth. When I read scripts for season two and realized that the narrative would open up to entirely new regions and cultures, I was momentarily terrified that I had already used up every idea I had! I faced the challenge of coming up with a distinct musical color that stood out from my first season score, but also felt organically connected to it. Then, the idea struck me that this was perhaps the opportunity I had been waiting for to finally write for Bulgarian women’s choir!
When I was a teenager, I was inspired by composer Kenji Kawaii’s groundbreaking score for the Japanese anime film Ghost in the Shell, notably its vocal-and-percussion-infused main title theme. Digging into his influences, I learned he was channeling the sounds of Bulgarian women’s choir. From there, I went straight to the source and became forever enamored with Bulgarian music’s distinct ornamentation, mixed rhythmic meters, and varying modes. I believe Bulgarian folk music is one of the most striking sounds in all folk music, and suspected it would be an effective color to help transport audiences into new and unexplored parts of the map of J.R.R. Tolkien’s vivid imaginary world.
I composed a main theme for Rhûn, inspired by the intervals and ornaments I heard in Bulgarian choral music.
I followed this “A Theme” with a secondary “B Theme,” centered around energetic, syncopated rhythms.
I was honored to work closely with one of Bulgaria’s most renowned choirs, the Mystery of the Bulgarian Voices, a Grammy-winning ensemble that has represented their musical heritage with concerts around the world since the early 1950s. The singers were collaborative, professional, and open to my ideas. Most importantly, they were able to capture the essence of the music I had imagined without losing the unique musical personality of their folk tradition.
For this series, we always strive to ensure that music sung by soloists or choirs communicates meaning in text that is relevant to the culture the music represents. So, what language would the music of Rhûn be sung in? Rhûn is a large, mostly unexplored area in Tolkien’s published works, left intentionally vague. Tolkien scholars working on our series dug through Tolkien’s unpublished notes and used them to build the foundation of a Rhûnic language, one that has never been heard before by fans. Helping to expand one of Tolkien’s lesser-known languages into a vibrant musical culture was a true honor.
Rhûnic:
Fú nimžil, nimžil-feg,
aibesjar balan taugun.
Dunšig Lún,
ligrám lihiš bódi aišäd bil.
Dyúl hez ní, feč Šigór.
þabul nädo naþa-feg je.
dyúl gileg anže þurfeg jai.
Dyúl hez ní, feč Šigór.
gorul arkädfeg go,
þur če žilid-feg bil.
I Raib-aišäd.
English:
Under moonlight, moonlight thine,
Our sister carried far.
Dark Magic,
White wings beat in sacred shrine.
Command her, thou Istar.
Grant flesh to thy servant.
Bring her forth with your might.
Command her, thou Istar.
Rise from thy throne,
In thy power and splendor.
The border shrine.
The Rhûnic language presented a challenge for the Bulgarian singers. Many of their unique vibrato styles and ornaments are tied to the Bulgarian language. It proved difficult to retain the cultural flavor I wanted but apply it to a fictional language. The recording process was initially slow, with singers having to learn each syllable phonetically. On their first break, their leader suggested we change the text to Bulgarian in order to move faster through the material, because she did not know what score they were singing on. I confessed to her that we were recording music for The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, and I explained the significance of the Rhûnic language. I watched her face light up. Suddenly, she fully understood the assignment, and went back into the studio with newfound resolve. After that, they quickly acclimated to Rhûnic and the vocal sounds of the Rhûn theme took shape.
I set out to find unique instrumentation to support these remarkable voices. The choir melody is set against a churning ostinato, performed on a Bulgarian bowed string instrument called a gadulka. I was thrilled to work with one of Bulgaria’s most renowned instrumentalists, Peyo Peev, who brought a dexterity to my ideas while preserving the cultural identity of the instrument.
I also supported Bulgarian colors with additional instrumentation from North Africa and the Middle East. The percussive backbone of the theme is powered by darbuka rhythms, and the clanging accents provided by qarkabeb, a large iron instrument from Morocco similar to castanets.
Despite these unique colors, I wanted to ensure that the Rhûn theme still shared common DNA with the rest of my score. I doubled the choir melody with the velvet tones of the Turkish yaylı tanbur, performed by friend Malachai Komanoff Bandy. Since season one, the tanbur has been part of a trio of soloists I use to express the Númenor theme. By featuring the instrument here, the score subtly suggests that human kingdoms of Númenor share some deep ancestral connection to the mysterious races of men in the Far East. I also loved how beautifully the tanbur blended in with the Bulgarian singers.
The new colors of the Rhûn theme explode off the speakers as the masked rider, one of the Guadrim, arrives at a strange shrine on the western border of Rhûn called Caras Gaer. Inside, this mercenary addresses the Dark Wizard, a mysterious character infused with menace by Ciarán Hinds. His theme is built from ominous variations of the Rhûn theme, which subtly communicates to the audience that this magical being possesses terrifying power over the region. The Dark Wizard summons the Dweller, one of the mystics who antagonized the Stranger last season, while the score subtly quotes the airy vocal whispers of the Mystics theme.
SANDSTORM IN THE EAST
After a close call with the Guadrim, the mercenaries of the Dark Wizard, the Harfoots and the Stranger are forced to trek across a harsh landscape in hopes of evading their mysterious pursuers. The Harfoots eventually find a well, and use the water to restore the Stranger to consciousness, set to a heartwarming rendition of the Stranger theme. The moment is not to last, sadly, as they are confronted by the Guadrim, heralded by the Bulgarian women’s choir rendition of the Rhûn theme with an ominous Rhûnic text, “I lurg i bauvailun, j’aišäd i raibo,” meaning “The threat unseen, the shrine at the border.”
The Stranger discovers a staff eerily reminiscent of one he saw in a dream, while ethereal gamelan bells play his theme’s unique arpeggios. Desperate, he uses the staff to conjure a sandstorm to fend off the Guadrim. His plans starts off well, but very quickly flies off the rails.
The Stranger theme weaves throughout the first half of the sequence as a triumphant anthem, as swirling orchestral strings and whipping woodwind rips musically represent the vortex of sand. Chords become darker as he loses control and danger escalates. In one of my favorite choral passages in the season, voices hammer ominous lyrics in upward ascending phrases that ratchet up the sense of foreboding doom.
Quenya:
Melehte
I ambunasse rave rá!
Á kenda se máryasse rondo
I hlare, núr níraryo ná
Erume ilya, litse y’ ondo
Pirila, rikila, querila!
Ravie na walda lamma,
walde lammar alise
i kenai autuva or hamba,
mana rá akátie?
English:
Power
A lion roars upon the hill!
Beware him, staff in hand.
For all that hear, obey his will,
All desert, rock and sand.
Spinning, twisting, turning!
Roaring is a wild sound,
Wild sound knows not
What might be lost upon the ground,
What hath lion wrought?
The Stranger watches in helpless horror as Nori and Poppy are whisked away into the maelstrom as the Stranger theme returns in a tragically operatic crescendo underscoring his failure.
THE LORD OF GIFTS
The climactic sequence in this episode returns the audience to Eregion where Sauron, in disguise as Halbrand, still waits by the front gate. Peering from the forge tower to the gate below, Celebrimbor is seduced, with empathy and curiosity, by an English horn solo of the Rings theme, gently teasing the melody associated with the words “In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie.” This is one example among dozens this season where I employ this particular melody, hoping fans hear the lyrics in their minds even if they are not being sung! “Where the Shadows Lie” functions as our Rings theme, and this episode solidifies its place as, arguably, the most important musical theme of the second season.
As Halbrand waits below, I used music to paint him like a shark swimming slowly in the murky depths of a bay. Low male singers sing a foundational chorale in Black Speech, while Sauron’s theme floats above them, sung by child soprano Juno Goode. Together, they offer a bleak message in Tolkien’s Black Speech.
Black Speech:
Nampat, burzum, bagronkat
Burzum ghubrugak
Ash grith afthága
English:
Death, darkness, suffering
Darkness welcomed
A patient evil
The audience last heard Juno’s angelic voice on several Sauron theme quotations in the season premiere, notably when he was betrayed, stabbed, and melted into a pile of dripping scum. There, the child soprano voice underlined his vulnerability. Here, that feeling returns. However, the vulnerability is feigned, weaponized to seduce Celebrimbor into trusting him. As such, the arrangement around the child soprano throughout this episode is even more tense and ominous.
Celebrimbor approaches, intending to dismiss Halbrand, who deftly takes advantage of his insecurity, pointing out that those in power discard craftsmen when they no longer need them. Here, wistful refrains of Nordic nyckelharpa and Hardanger fiddle support his folksy charm by playing the Halbrand theme. This theme is yet another form of disguise, as it is, in actuality, just the Sauron theme played backwards!
Halbrand’s crafty insinuations win over Celebrimbor, earning him enough trust to be invited up into the forge tower. There, in the warm firelight of the forge, Halbrand informs him that the three rings were successful in restoring Lindon’s light, and Celebrimbor is overcome with elation. In one of my favorite musical passages of the season, the choir celebrates, singing for him a verse in Quenya.
Quenya:
Aina kala, aina karië.
Laurea kala, elmenya rehtië.
English:
Blessed light, blessed creation.
Golden light, wondrous salvation.
Halbrand takes the opportunity to advance his strategy. The Sauron theme enters, set in male voices again, but now offering a majestic Quenya text, “Túra pantië, aina rehtië,” meaning “Great revelation, blessed salvation.” Here, the male singers float in a higher register, and the harmonic progression has been reimagined to be angelic and profoundly beautiful. These new chords completely mask the melody’s sinister origins—it is nearly unrecognizable, even though the notes are identical. Like Sauron himself, his theme hides in plain sight.
Halbrand presses further, admitting he is not mortal. Here, female singers take over the soundtrack singing what feels like new thematic material, the Annatar theme.
Quenya:
Menta ho i valar.
Túra estel anwina.
Níri lá naxa.
English:
Message from the gods.
Great hope realized.
Forces beyond evil.
If this melody felt familiar, it is because fans have actually heard it before, on the first season soundtrack album. “Sauron” contained a “B Theme,” a bridge section with a melody that was always intended to be, the Annatar theme. Sauron is a character cloaked in deceit, so I tried to capture this essence in his musical theme. His thematic connection to Halbrand was there to discover all season long. And now, I smile knowing that his Annatar theme was also right there for fans to discover, from day one (literally, as “Sauron” was one of the first singles released even before the debut of the series itself).
Halbrand disappears. The forge bursts unexpectedly to life and the swirling strings of the Forging theme sparkle from the orchestra. Above the roiling chords of the Rings theme, the child soprano carries the melody of the Sauron theme.
Quenya:
Túra patië, naumë ortaina,
anwië pantaina, i Heru Annaron
English:
Great revelation, disguise lifted.
Truth revealed, the Lord of Gifts.
Here, the child soprano evokes liturgical beauty, but with a catch: in general the child soprano on Sauron’s melody usually suggests a superficial vulnerability or beauty beneath which lies true menace. Sauron, now in the form of Annatar, emerges from a vision of the glowing fires of creation itself in an image evocative of a Renaissance painting.
At last, as Annatar promises Celebrimbor he will be revered as “The Lord of the Rings,” the score bursts forth into a majestic rendition of the Rings theme, “Where the Shadows Lie.” This melody was written as a setting for Tolkien’s famous Ring Poem. As I scored this sequence, I could hear the words associated with each melodic line entering my mind, words sung by Fiona Apple last season. Beneath this melody, the choir offers text meant to further seduce Celebrimbor.
Quenya:
Naumë ortaina, Annatar.
Túra, elmenya, pantië.
English:
Disguise lifted, Lord of Gifts.
Great, wondrous, revelation.
The score calms as Annatar approaches Celebrimbor, now humbled as he has beheld a divine entity. Once again, the Annatar theme (the Sauron “B Theme” in fair form) returns as a pastoral string chorale, supported by gentle voices.
This sequence has largely been scored from the perspective of Celebrimbor, underscoring his awe at the beauty and magnitude of what he is witnessing. At the scene’s conclusion, however, the score switches to Sauron’s perspective. A mighty blast of brass and choir presents the Sauron theme, indicating with horrifying clarity that a significant step towards the creation of the Rings of Power has been achieved. Here, the choir offers a closing statement in Quenya, singing “Tar Annaron,” meaning “Lord of Gifts.” The beautiful Quenya lyric supports the lie for Celebrimbor, while horrific orchestration tells the truth to the audience.
Musically speaking, “Elven Kings Under the Sky” felt more like a further season one finale, and “Where the Star Are Strange” is where the story arcs of the second season truly take off. I was exhilarated to write new musical material, notably for Eregion, Rhûn, and Annatar. However, many of my personal favorite new themes await introduction in the episodes ahead. I look forward to exploring these in future blog entries. As always, thank you all for reading and listening.
—Bear
