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 205
“HALLS OF STONE”
In the fifth episode, dramatic story arcs provided rich musical opportunities to twist familiar themes into darker variations. Events are set in motion for our beloved roster of characters, intertwining their fates, their flaws, and their dreams. The story turns darker as Galadriel discovers new powers associated with her ring, Nenya, and long-simmering civil unrest in Númenor boils over into deadly violence and loss of life. Dwarven rings given to King Durin allow Sauron’s influence to infiltrate Khazad-dûm. The forges of Eregion reignite to create nine new Rings of Power, and by now an argument can credibly be made that “Where the Shadows Lie” becomes the single most important musical component in the second season as a whole.
DELVE DEEPER
Over the course of this episode, the Khazad-dûm theme transforms from a mighty national anthem supported by low brass and male singers to a sickly, withered reflection of itself. With diminished intervals undermining its regal symmetry, the theme suggests the King himself has fallen under the spell of the Ring of Power.
As the episode opens, the pensive, rich notes of the Khazad-dûm theme, presented in regal trombones, reverberate across the Misty Mountains as the story opens with King Durin considering the seven new Rings of Power now in his possession. The ethereal chords of the Ring theme sing a siren song of temptation as he contemplates putting a ring on his finger. The choir sings a text in Tolkien’s Dwarven language of Khuzdul.
Khuzdul:
Nimri nugûl, ankhar.
Akthâs.
English:
Elvin magic, power.
Corruption.
This chord progression was first introduced in the second episode of season one, underscoring a shot of King Durin and his son opening a chest filled with a mysterious glowing object that would later be revealed to be the very same mithril that these new rings were forged from. The score suggests an ill omen beyond King Durin’s perception when the urgently aggressive hammering motion of the Sauron ostinato portends doom as he reaches for the ring.
From the moment King Durin puts on this ring, his kingdom’s Khazad-dûm theme begins to alter with increasing frequency. I lowered certain notes a half-step, creating a diminished chord or tritone interval in place of perfect fourths and fifths. This literally and metaphorically implies the might of Khazad-dûm has been diminished. This once powerful melody sounds broken and sickly, as if the musicians playing the score made a mistake! My hope is that the audience starts to internalize that the mistake may lay in King Durin’s decision to wear the ring.
Wearing a Ring of Power, the King magically finds the right location to dig to create new, vital light shafts. As he uses his newfound powers, angelic female choirs sing in Tolkien’s Elven language Quenya, “Raika ken,” meaning “Twisted sight.” When the King begins to dig into the rock wall with his axe, the first of these diminished theme statements is presented by low male singers, with a Khuzdul text.
Khuzdul:
Uthûn khôzudu qomukt ushgalôm,
ashlâm ush qorm ag garân.
English:
Keep of the Dwarves sealed away,
solitude below gold and treasure.
King Durin succeeds where Disa and her Stone Singers have failed. He leads his crews to more and more new light shafts. I scored this entire sequence with variations of the mysterious Rings theme chords floating above the steady march of the Khazad-dûm ostinato. The hesitation of his son Durin and loyal advisor Narvi turns to jubilation as mirrors once again radiate white with new sunlight, shimmering sunlight into their halls. Here, I wrote a vibrant new statement of the Khazad-dûm theme, reflecting its introduction in the first season. Choral singers celebrate the Dwarves’ jubilant victory with a proud lyric.
Khuzdul:
Khabr khôzudu, zerâb aya nagt.
Gabil gathol qomukt ushgalôm.
Gabil ankhar.
English:
Kingdom of the Dwarves, carved into stone.
Great fortress sealed away.
Great power.
This moment of elation warranted the Khazad-dûm theme presented in an unaltered, celebratory state. But for the next three episodes it will mostly be heard in its diminished form. In fact, for the rest of this episode, the Khazad-dûm theme will become increasingly weak and dissonant.
I am always grateful for a moment of musical levity in The Rings of Power. With a relieved Dwarven society returning to normal, Disa returns to the marketplace and purchases a spherical tuning crystal from a merchant. She accidentally drops it and chases it through the crowd as the score offers a jaunty rendition of Durin’s theme on solo cello. Folksy nyckelharpa and acoustic guitar strums bounce behind strident refrains from a Renaissance viola da gamba and stomping staccato string orchestra rhythms. Evoking the playful cue underscoring Disa’s first season in the series, the feeling is playful and jovial.
Prince Durin’s theme appears later, accompanying an emotional scene between him and Disa, where she makes him vow to never wear a Ring of Power. Here, the same melody, achingly beautiful, is filled with longing. I am always amazed at how a powerful orchestration can completely recontextualize a melody.
Whenever King Durin has appeared in The Rings of Power, from the beginning of season one, he has been greeted with a stoic statement of the Khazad-dûm theme. Now, for the first time, he is scored with different musical material. In the scene where he makes an offer of Rings of Power to representatives of the other Dwarf Lords, he is curiously accompanied by the melody of “Where the Shadows Lie,” in lilting high strings floating above mournful male vocals. The Rings theme overtakes, submerges the Khazad-dûm theme, musically representing King Durin succumbing to the influence of the ring he wears.
The king envisions the gold awaiting deeper in the mines and the Khazad-dûm ostinato kicks in, but the kingdom’s theme is now rendered with low trombones and male singers in a diminished form of the melody. The appearance of diminished tritone intervals in a melody that is normally built around strong fourths and fifths gives the impression that the Sauron theme has somehow infiltrated and further soured the Khazad-dûm theme. Later, when King Durin proclaims his ability to see the very veins of the mountain, the same theme is moved up to high, shimmering string harmonics, now stripped of the rich, bass-heavy tones that usually imbue it with majesty and might.
Even the Khazad-dûm theme’s emotional “B section” is not safe from the diminishing effect of the rings. Built around luscious, unexpected harmonies, this section is generally reserved for the most emotional or aspirational moments. As King Durin collects himself after momentarily losing his ring, a solo bassoon in its uppermost register offers a withering statement of this middle section of Khazad-dûm’s music. Again, important notes in the melody have been lowered a half step, giving the theme a sense of Sauron’s influence.
Later in the episode, when the King expresses gratitude to his son for his part in convincing him to allow the donation of mithril in exchange for Rings of Power, the “B theme” is played once again by high strings, achieving an icy-cold sound by playing with no vibrato whatsoever. Here I added flutes and clarinets to the line, playing in awkward fourths and fifths, creating parallel motion that applies strange overtones to the strings. (This is an old-school orchestral trick I learned from my mentor, Elmer Bernstein, who used the technique to add exoticism to string lines.)
REIGNITING THE FORGE
I was honored to have the chance to write music to celebrate the unveiling of this piece of Middle-earth history! “Halls of Stone” advances the story of Celebrimbor and the smiths of Eregion. First, I hope even casual fans of The Lord of the Rings were as thrilled as I was to witness the unveiling of the Doors of Durin. In Tolkien’s books, the doors symbolize the days when relations between Elves and Dwarves were at their best. A collaboration between Celebrimbor and Narvi created the iconic doors that Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship would (thousands of years later) open to enter the Mines of Moria in The Fellowship of the Ring.
I wanted the score here to heighten the camaraderie on display. I wrote light, upbeat symphonic colors, including fluttering woodwinds, harp arpeggios, and evocative string lines over major chords, inspired by my favorite French impressionist composers Debussy and Ravel. When the curtain drops, and the audience sees the legendary doors, I pushed the orchestra into a magical, majestic phrase, where strings soared above a heavenly choir. Narvi knowingly tells the congregation that the password is known only to friends.
Anyone who read the books or saw the cinematic adaptations will remember that the riddle of the password stumps Gandalf for quite some time before he finally figures it out. The choir in the score whispers the password that Narvi is hesitant to say aloud. I smiled knowingly as I composed, giving the choir gently sighing mantra-like phrases of the Quenya word “Mellon,” the password meaning “Friend” in Tolkien’s Elven language.
Later, Celebrimbor follows Annatar to the forge where a tense dialogue begins, setting in motion their primary conflict for this episode: Annatar wishes to forge nine rings for men and Celebrimbor adamantly refuses. This is one of several expertly written scenes between these two characters: a showcase for brilliant writing as well as performances from Charlie Vickers and Charles Edwards. Rather than writing background dialogue textures, I approached these scenes of psychological mind games like action cues—each scene a verbal sparring match! These were some of my favorite moments to score this season. I was able to explore the deeper subtext in their dialogue because the caliber of writing, direction, acting, and editorial was so high. I felt my job was to, first and foremost, stay out of the way of the performances by two actors at the top of their game. Secondly, I sought out musical opportunities to help the audience understand that Annatar is systematically corroding Celebrimbor’s mental defenses, pitting the master Elven smith against his own worst impulses.
Choir passages were a useful tool at my disposal for the Annatar and Celebrimbor scenes. Sometimes, the choir would cite lyrics that comment directly on the conflict. As Annatar cites a list of history’s most heroic figures from the race of Men, choral women support him in Quenya with “Á etorya ar kala,” directly quoting his “Rise forth and shine.” In other moments, the choir’s lyrics offer dramatic irony. When Annatar proposes that forging nine rings is safer than three, the choir tries to warn Celebrimbor with the dire Quenya words “Tamila furui,” that he is “Forging lies.”
Back in Lindon, Gil-galad reads the suspicious, deceitful, letter Celebrimbor sent after being manipulated by Annatar. As Gil-galad absorbs its contents, churning, anxious strings undulate beneath a melancholy orchestral statement of “Where the Shadows Lie.” This song—the score’s theme for the Rings of Power—was first heard in full at the end of season one, sung by Fiona Apple. In this episode it continues to establish itself as the de facto theme for Celebrimbor and Annatar.
Later, after vowing to not partake in any more forging, Celebrimbor is nonetheless drawn by a disturbance to the congregation of Elven smiths at the forge. An otherworldly floating hammer is revealed to be held by Mirdania, who had become invisible after putting on one of their rings. (Invisibility is famously one of the side effects of wearing Sauron’s One Ring as described in The Lord of the Rings. It would seem Sauron helped guide the Elven smiths to accidentally stumble upon this magical technology.)
A trembling Mirdania recounts to the group a terrible vision she experienced while invisible. Actor Amelia Kenworthy has been a steady presence in the series this season, but it was in this scene that I first noticed how expertly she uses her eyes to communicate the character’s inner emotional states. She brought a genuinely chilling fear to Mirdania here, one that I wanted to augment with especially upsetting music.
Beneath Mirdania’s breathless words, the score quotes the Sauron theme in high, long notes that sound uneasy, even unnatural. To create these, I took individual recordings of notes from a variety of pianos, celestes, glockenspiels, even toy pianos, and digitally stretched them to make them unnaturally, impossibly slow and long. Time-stretching percussive sounds like pianos create a sound that is utterly impossible in the natural acoustic world—distorted and upsettingly abnormal.
Disturbed by reckless decisions that led to this unsafe work environment, Celebrimbor is tempted to offer advice. Annatar baits him with a plea for guidance. While Annatar’s surface motivation appears to be born of concern for the smiths’ safety, the score’s low brass quotation of the Sauron theme reveals his true intention with ominous clarity.
Later that night, from the lofty forge tower, Annatar spies on Celebrimbor speaking privately with Durin down in the courtyard. Child soprano Juno Goode sings a plaintive statement of the Sauron theme, echoing the words “Burzum kurgrimpat,” meaning “Darkness encroaching” in Tolkien’s language of Mordor, Black Speech. The sound of the child soprano has become an increasingly important component in Sauron’s musical vocabulary, generally representing how his apparent vulnerability belies his dangerous cunning.
The Eregion story arc in “Halls of Stone” concludes when Celebrimbor, spurred by his conversation with Durin, confronts Annatar about potential errors in the Dwarven Rings of Power. An ominous male choir offers the Rings theme chords as Annatar shocks him, suggesting Celebrimbor’s deceit in his letter to Gil-galad sullied the craft. A solo oboe weaves the melody of “Where the Shadows Lie” through their dialogue, while choir then adds further drama with ominous lyrics.
Quenya:
Úsahtië, söa,
rikina tier lilómiéva.
English:
Seduction, corruption,
twisted paths full of darkness.
Annatar makes his final argument that they should push forward with crafting nine new rings. Here the musical melody reaches the conclusion of the song, offering the instrumental line from which the titular line originates, “Where the Shadows Lie.” Celebrimbor’s decision to lead the forging of new rings is made concurrent with the last note of melody.
In a speech to the Elven smiths, and though his confidence has eroded, Celebrimbor expresses his hope for redemption for the apparent mistakes in crafting the seven rings for the Dwarves. Exuding fear and shame, he retreats to his chamber and looks with shock at his once steadfast hands, the hands of a true craftsman, now trembling uncontrollably. The score highlights his uncertainty with an entire orchestra of trembling hands: all the strings play a shivering tremolo texture. The choir offers chilling lyrical commentary in Quenya, “Lerila mahtie,” meaning “Losing control.”
CANDLES ON THE TIDE
“Halls of Stone” picks up the story of political strife in Númenor last explored in “The Eagle and the Sceptre.” The score will further explore the widening chasm between the theme for the Faithful, including Queen-Regent Míriel and Elendil, against the King’s Men, notably the new ruler Pharazôn. Just as Pharazôn usurped the throne, the King’s Men theme has usurped the glorious Númenor theme, diminishing its beauty with sinister minor chords.
In their first scene, Pharazôn and his son Kemen stare west, and discuss the White Tower of Eressëa. Here, aided by Trystan Gravelle’s searing performance, the true depths of Pharazôn’s loathing of the Elves, fueled by jealousy for their immortality, becomes clear. As they discuss the pastoral lands of Valinor, the score quotes the Valinor theme, for the first time presented not by a children’s choir, but sung by adult men, and supported entirely by minor chords. The score makes clear to the audience that Pharazôn views Valinor with utter contempt. The usual Valinor choir lyrics are twisted to suit Pharazôn’s perspective.
Quenya:
Eldamar, Eldamar, oialëa cuilë.
Eldamar, Eldamar, avanwa Atanin.
English:
Elvenhome, Elvenhome, life everlasting.
Elvenhome, Elvenhome, forbidden to Men.
Kemen, who is played to slithery perfection by Leon Wadham, is easily manipulated by his father, who withholds information about an ominous prediction his mother once made about him, in exchange for service. This has an immediately destabilizing effect on the young man. Here, the score shifts to an ethereal, haunting texture, interwoven with distant improvised vocal wailing provided by Raya Yarbrough. The music augments the psychological impact Pharazôn has on his defenseless son. The scene is almost enough to make one have pity for Kemen, a boy raised unknowingly in his father’s manipulative, vile image. Pity for Kemen will be short-lived before “Halls of Stone” reaches its heart-wrenching conclusion.
At his father’s bidding, Kemen later gloats smugly while he oversees the humiliated Sea Guard who remain loyal to Queen-Regent Míriel being stripped of their uniforms and their weapons. Elendil’s daughter Eärien stands at his side. Elendil, having been stripped of his rank of Captain, leaves the mortifying display. In a moving act of defiance, the soldiers salute Elendil, even against his own wishes. The score comments on the scene with martial snare drums supported by the signature Middle Eastern frame drums of the Númenor theme. A noble French horn solo joins the salute to Elendil with his iconic theme, the Faithful theme.
Meanwhile, driven by insatiable curiosity, Pharazôn approaches the palantir confiscated from Míriel and her deceased father. Here, the familiar sound of a child soprano carries the Sauron theme above an ethereal, choral cluster. The showrunners and I debated this scene at length. The palantir is not an inherently evil artifact, nor is it directly related to Sauron. However, I argued that the score should foreshadow events to come, and they backed my play.
The Númenor storyline in “Halls of Stone” concludes with one of the most upsetting scenes in the series thus far. The Faithful, including Elendil and his son’s long-time friend Valandil, those who still support Queen-Regent Míriel, gather in an inviting shrine, placing candles on floating shells on the water. At first, the score functions essentially like music emanating from the ceremony itself: a breathy chorale of female singers offers solemn lyrics between gently tolling bells.
Quenya:
I sóla le palan etyála lomello.
Tula sí, vanimar, vanwa kenello.
Sí sérena na, tira Númenna.
English:
The far tide is calling you forth from the night.
Come now, ye fair ones, long lost from our sight.
Now is for rest, look to the West.
The tranquil ceremony is disrupted when Kemen enters with armed escort and abruptly announces the shrine is condemned. Outraged at the disrespectful intrusion, Valandil draws his sword and assaults Kemen. Their skirmish triggers a chaotic riot, supported by an aggressive 5/8 riff in the percussion and orchestra.
As Valandil expertly dodges two wild thrusts from Kemen’s blade, the orchestra stabs with perfectly timed chords. These frame-accurate musical punctuations reference the first-season cue “Scherzo for Violin and Swords.” Galadriel had used this exact same technique to effortlessly defend herself from Valandil during sparring. The recurrence of this idea here suggests that Valandil learned this trick from Galadriel herself. However, where “Scherzo” was orchestrated to be light and playful, the music here is intensely dissonant and aggressive: the stakes are much higher.
Valandil, portrayed with intense resolve by Alex Tarrant, bests Kemen. Elendil, witnessing all this and despairing of more bloodshed, urges Valandil to drop his blade. Valandil obeys his wish and raises his arms, prepared to face consequences of his assault on Kemen. Here, a solo trumpet offers a regal statement of the Faithful theme. The score has long since associated this theme with solo brass, frequently used to imbue Elendil or Isildur with a sense of honor. Here, that solo trumpet tells the audience that Valandil is, in a musical essence, another of Elendil’s sons, just as worthy of a solo trumpet theme statement as his own flesh and blood.
Though Valandil has surrendered honorably, Kemen’s blade bursts through Valandil’s chest. He falls and dies in Elendil’s arms. Kemen, coldly, and to the horror of all present, rinses his blade in the sacred tidal waters. Here, a belting solo female voice echoes across a sparse, unforgiving musical drone, soaked in reverb and delay. She offers the Faithful theme as it has never been heard before, as a mournful dirge with a sorrowful lyric.
Quenya:
I yondo vórima, hendurya olat néka,
apa mo asien se lá.
English:
The faithful son, his eyes grow dim,
but there are none to comfort him.
For this scene, I wanted to find a voice I had never used before, in this score or any other. My team cast a wide net looking for the right person and we found her in Clydene Jackson. When I heard Clydene’s voice, I instantly knew she was the one. I was even more impressed when I learned her debut album was produced by Ray Charles and that she has sung for the likes of Rod Stewart, Barbra Streisand, Patti LaBelle, and more. I hoped that when the audience heard this familiar melody sung in a new harmonic setting, by a new singer, that the music would amplify their shock, sadness, and outrage.
A POTENTIAL ALLY
The episode concludes as a legion of Orcs crests a hill in the woods to gaze upon the peaceful city of Eregion for the first time. Here, the soundtrack bursts with “Nampat,” the signature march that represents Adar’s legions.
Black Speech:
Nampat-sha ghâsh!
Nampat, bagronkat!
Nampat-sha ghâsh!
Nampat, bagronkrat, ghubagdat!
English:
Death with fire!
Death, suffering!
Death with fire!
Death, suffering, unyielding!
The Orcs wheel a cage into their new camp and open it to reveal the captive Galadriel. Adar’s lieutenant Glûg threatens to cut her throat, but his blade is stayed by Adar himself. Adar’s entrance is announced by the whispered refrain of the Adar theme on his signature instrument, the ney, a Middle Eastern woodwind instrument. Adar makes the intriguing suggestion that they might be potential allies against a common enemy.
The final shots of the episode reveal Sauron, in fair form, crafting new Rings of Power in the forge just on the other side of the river, in Eregion. Here, the choir bursts forth a dire warning in Quenya, “I Tar Annaron,” meaning “The Lord of Gifts,” supported by snarling brass.
The episode smashes to credits on a new variation of the Sauron theme that I called “Sauron’s Design” on the soundtrack for this episode. Menacing choir passages offer foreboding lyrics.
Black Speech:
Burzum kurgrimpat,
Burzum ozguyat.
Grithum ozgat,
ghubagdafat,
Pushnothul higthu.
Ghubagdat, ghumazglubatûk,
ash grith afthága.
English:
Encroaching darkness,
Darkness spreading.
Reach of evil,
unrelenting,
evil approaches.
Unyielding, indestructible,
a patient evil.
Despite all the doom and fire implied in this end credits piece, careful listeners might be surprised to hear it all conclude with a hopeful Quenya lyric from the sopranos and altos. “Kala alfírima” translates to “Light undying.” By ending on the enigmatic chords of the Rings theme, I wanted to subtly hint that hope yet remains.
I hoped this cue might suggest to fans that Sauron’s manipulations have put all the pieces on the board: He has corrupted Celebrimbor’s mind and harnessed the smiths of Eregion, his enemies Galadriel and Adar are together drawing close with an army of Orcs, the King of the Dwarves is succumbing to the influence of a Ring of Power, and even in distant Númenor, the King’s Men increase the reach of their influence. I completed scoring “Halls of Stone” exhilarated to dive into the final three episodes of The Rings of Power, which are arguably the most thrilling and ambitious of the series thus far.
—Bear
