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 206
“WHERE IS HE?”
In the sixth episode’s prologue, Arondir runs urgently through the forest, following the trail of destruction left by Adar’s forces, accompanied by a brassy fanfare of his theme. The choir urges him onward with a heroic text in his native language, Tolkien’s Elven language of Sindarin. Arondir, unlike many of the Elven characters in The Rings of Power, was born in Beleriand, making him one of the Silvan Elves, so when choral passages pertain specifically to him, I often try to set text in his native dialect.
Sindarin:
Callon an Edain,
Curunír, Bellas egleriannen.
English:
Hero of men,
Man of skill, Glorified strength.
Arondir encounters and dispatches a few Orcs, before finding a map on one of them that points him towards a new destination: the Elven realm of Eregion.
EREGION UNDER DURESS
Since the events of “Halls of Stone,” the mood in Celebrimbor’s forge has not brightened. Celebrimbor’s story arc opens with an establishing shot of the city set to a moody rendition of the usually bright Eregion theme in French horns. I composed the Eregion theme to be uplifting, peaceful, and innocent, and I enjoyed this episode’s opportunities to saturate it with emotional conflict. I hoped that audiences would feel an impending sadness every time the Eregion theme changes, losing more of its initially vibrant character with every occurrence.
Inside the forge tower Celebrimbor struggles, both with his work and with his smiths, who trigger his frustration and exhaustion with their well-meaning inquiries into his mental health. The mounting tension is supported by minor brass chorales and wandering solo woodwind lines that combine to create a feeling of unease and harmonic confusion.
Annatar enters, appearing in black attire befitting the darker mood and dismisses the smiths. Here, low brass offer a brooding rendition of the Annatar theme.
Originally appearing on the first-season soundtrack album as the Sauron theme’s middle section, it was practically reborn in a lovely new orchestration during the climax of “Where the Stars Are Strange.” Here, it is much more akin to its original album incarnation: low brass growl above minor chords. Undeterred, Celebrimbor commits to completing the nine rings. Here, the score tries to warn him against making a mistake by offering an ominous statement of “Where the Shadows Lie,” the Rings theme.
Celebrimbor asks Annatar to go to the Dwarves to parlay for more mithril, to which Annatar obliges. Here, the score drops all pretense of Annatar being divine and offers an unambiguously evil statement of the Sauron theme, the most obviously sinister musical connection made yet between Annatar and his true underlying character. Low choral singers imbue the Sauron melody with an ominous warning for Celebrimbor, saying “Lerila túre,” a phrase meaning “Losing control” in Tolkien’s Elven language of Quenya. The score helps audiences understand that Celebrimbor is too exhausted, too driven now by pride to see the villain before him.
Annatar steps outside to address a throng of concerned Elven citizens, while a melancholy statement of the Eregion theme wails mournfully. Again, the serenity of Eregion is threatened with every statement of its once-innocent theme. Assuming a leadership role, Annatar is shown a corpse with a message carved in it. Annatar approaches a concerned Mirdania, and takes her hand as a creepy Sauron theme whispers in the audience’s ears. The high piercing tones of his theme contain the same digitally time-stretched piano colors that I used in “Halls of Stone,” when poor Mirdania took off a ring and recounted her horrific visions. As with the previous scene with Celebrimbor, the score here screams warning at Mirdania. However, she is too naïve and taken too far into his spell to heed.
Sauron walks to the parapet and gazes across the mighty, serene river, now with the knowledge that Adar and his Orcs lurk beyond the trees. The Sauron ostinato swirls like a swarm of angry bees while low brass and male singers offer the Sauron theme in a growling phrase. This tense variation of his theme simultaneously communicates dread to the audience, as well as Sauron’s growing anticipation that his plan is coming to fruition.
THE SECRET FIRE
Meanwhile, to the east in Rhûn, Tom Bombadil coaches the Stranger in the ways of magic. Preparing to go for a hike, he puts on his iconic blue jacket and pointy hat, while a pennywhistle offers a lyrical statement of the Tom Bombadil theme.
This theme supports them later as they trek across the rocks and dunes, performed with enigmatic vibrato by a solo bassoon in its uppermost register. The melody floats above Bombadil’s signature dulcimer pattern, and below a glassy cloud of otherworldly string harmonics from the orchestra.
They stop at a ledge, before a vast field of dead trees, and a child-soprano vocal offers a commentary in Quenya with an ethereal line, “Yáre tauri, nurne olbar,” meaning “Ancient woods, gnarled branches.” Tom tells the Stranger to go forth and find his staff. The Stranger theme clashes with Bombadil’s theme when the Stranger expresses his desire to help his friends Nori and Poppy instead. To highlight their contrasting perspectives, their themes are presented in diametrically opposed colors. Tom’s theme is offered in a high, breathy pennywhistle, while the Stranger is supported by a low, reedy cello solo.
Meanwhile, at the Stoors canyon village, the village leader Gundabale explains to Nori why having a single home to call one’s own is important. Here, the score sneaks in with a light touch, playing the Stoors theme “A section.”
As Gundabale’s eyes well with tears, warm orchestral strings swell with the Stoors theme “B section.” I designed this section to be more emotional, with a richer harmonic progression and more inherent yearning in the melody. It timed out well, to bring more bittersweet nostalgia to the dramatic turning point in Tanya Moodie’s gripping performance.
Nori suggests she should turn herself in to the Guadrim, to spare the village. Here, her theme is played by a mournful Irish whistle, and presented in a weak manner, underscoring her vulnerability. Her theme returns a few scenes later, when Poppy commits to staying and facing off against the Guadrim. Here, rich orchestral strings offer a bold version of the Nori Brandyfoot theme, helping to underline for the audience how Nori’s influence has helped her complete her character arc from the timid girl in the season premiere to the only halfling with enough sway to convince Nori to stand her ground.
A VISITOR TO THE MINES
At the start of the Khazad-dûm storyline in this episode, the mines are running full steam. The Khazad-dûm ostinato adds might to the bustling industrial machinations. And yet, the musical influence of the rings can be felt. Female singers, supported by a trio of orchestral flutes, float above the stomping rhythm, offering the enigmatic chords of the Rings theme.
Wheelbarrows full of treasures are dumped at the feet of King Durin’s throne. Now, the trombones and low male singers that usually offer a triumphant statement of the Khazad-dûm theme, present it with its fifth scale tone diminished a half step.
This creates tense tritones in place of strong perfect fifths. The theme now sounds mangled and uneven. The emotional result is a sound that resembles Khazad-dûm in shape and color, but feels upsettingly sickened. Even the lyrics of the male singers include a twisted line in Tolkien’s Dwarven language of Khuzdul, “Qorm ag garân, uruzudn ushu,” meaning “Gold and treasure, disaster below.”
Later, in one of my favorite scenes in the episode, the prince weeps as he confides in Disa that he still sees his father’s soul behind the cold eyes of the King currently under the spell of the ring. Here, Eric Byers’s solo cello, supported by Malachai Bandy’s evocative viola da gamba, offers the Durin theme in a heartfelt arrangement. His phrases are stated elegantly, between deeps sighs of male choir chords offering a lyrical lament in Tolkien’s Dwarven language of Khuzdul.
Khuzdul:
Athrân, zerâb aya nagt.
Afzug, udimt ushqorz.
English:
Loyalty, carved into stone.
Trust, deep underground.
I am especially fond of the Durin theme because it works equally effectively as a jaunty jig or with a heartfelt moment of vulnerability.
TRIAL BY ABYSS
The Númenor storyline in “Where Is He?” is arguably the episode’s most intense and memorable. Standing in chains before Pharazôn and the King’s Men, Elendil is asked to pledge loyalty in exchange for his life, after he was blamed for the deadly riot at the shrine depicted in the previous episode. As his daughter Eärien watches breathlessly, Elendil refuses.
A triumphant brassy statement of the Faithful theme soars as he points in accusatory defiance at the traitorous Pharazôn. This scene was one of the season’s rare examples where my first draft did not go big enough. Don’t get me wrong: I drafted it big. But J.D. Payne and Patrick McKay dared me to go even bigger, and I’m very happy they did. The result here is one of my favorite statements of the Faithful theme I’ve yet written.
Later, Eärien goes to Elendil in his damp, stony cell. Here, actors Ema Horvath and Lloyd Owen did such a phenomenal job that I could not even imagine the need for any music. Instead, I withheld music for Míriel’s entrance. In one of my favorite performances from Cynthia Addai-Robinson, Míriel makes a plea for Elendil to bow to Pharazôn and spare his own life. A solo French horn hesitantly heralds her entrance with the Faithful theme. When her appeal as queen-regent fails, she makes a personal plea.
Orchestral celli evocatively soar the Faithful theme in their upper register, with expressive vibrato, while swirling string gestures ripple above it in rapid textures that blur into a gentle cloud of harmonic colors. The cue is unabashedly romantic and cinematic, reminiscent of classic Hollywood love themes of old, supporting the tour-de-force performances from the cast.
Elendil does not succumb, and later find himself at the water’s edge, ready to be thrown in to face the judgement of the Valar in the form of the monstrous Sea Worm. As Pharazôn speaks at the ceremony’s beginning, the King’s Men theme (the Númenor theme with ominous minor chords) rumbles beneath him.
As Elendil and Eärien share one last glance, the Faithful theme is whispered faintly on a Renaissance recorder. This woodwind instrument was used throughout the first season to represent Eärien’s relationship with her father, and its fleeting appearance here is its first since the first season. Her pleading recorder phrase tries to offer words to her father that she cannot speak, and Elendil, with no warmth in his eyes, offers a wordless reply to her in the form of a second stern phrase of the theme in French horns. Instruments in the score have a conversation that the characters communicate in glances.
Míriel shocks the crowd, insisting that it is she who must face the beast. Míriel has made several grand entrances this season, and until now, she was always accompanied by the Númenor theme. This moment fully disassociates her from that theme, and bonds her with the Faithful theme, which now plays as a tragic and triumphant fanfare as she descends the path to the water’s edge.
A gentle chorale of sopranos and altos supports an ethereal child vocal, mourning her as she steps down into the water, with a fitting Quenya text, “Ambar, á vanta minya patie,” meaning “Fate, take the first step.”
Shockingly, she survives her ordeal and the crowd roars with applause. Brass burst out into a huge fanfare of the Faithful theme as Elendil heralds Míriel as Númenor’s rightful ruler. The choir exclaims jubilantly along with the crowd.
Quenya:
Estel mi ambar.
Oryande i earello!
English:
Faith in fate.
Ascent from the sea!
Incensed by the turn of events, Pharazôn returns to the palantir, once again supported by Sauron’s theme, paying off musical foreshadowing from the previous episode. Here, the furious jagged strings of the Sauron ostinato fuel his curiosity and he touches the artifact. Visions of Sauron come forth, as low brass and choral men offer a dire warning of the Sauron melody. At the apex of the scene, the last notes of the Rings theme ring out, notes associated with the lyric “In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie.”
THE CALL OF WAR HORNS
In his Orc camp, Adar offers his prisoner Galadriel a meal. He makes an appeal to her that they should join forces. Though she tries to hide it, his words affect her. High string harmonics and time-stretched piano notes once again offer an eerie statement of the Sauron theme, referencing in particular the scene in the previous episode when Mirdania described seeing an evil presence. This musical connection suggests to the viewer that Sauron has, at one point or another, cast the same spell of influence on these two as he has recently on Mirdania. Throughout this series, the score has oft suggested that Sauron need not be present for the miasma of his influence to take hold.
As Adar connects with Galadriel, his theme emerges on a solo woodwind instrument, the Middle Eastern ney, whispering over an airy synth and string drone. Here, it feels oddly emotional, underlining that his words are resonating with her. To show his conviction, he brings out the crown of Morgoth, the only physical item to date to nearly kill Sauron, as depicted in the season premiere. Low male choir singers offer an ominous lyric in Black Speech, the language of Mordor.
Black Speech:
Burz thuzgum, grithum kurthûsh.
Ghâsh, dorz iklish glugak. Bagronkat.
English:
Dark malice, evil survives.
Fire, cast in a new form. Suffering.
Galadriel asks him what part she is to play in his plans. Here, the score pulsates with the signature rhythm of the Adar theme percussion march. Above the mounting drums, an ethereal line of sopranos and altos continues the lyrical sentiment set forth by the basses and tenors earlier.
Quenya:
I kendele ulkova, morna ríe vanya lyen.
Ulko tave, níríte mahtar kalo.
English:
The face of evil, crown of shadow passes to you.
Evil endures, determined soldier of the light.
Later in the episode, Adar’s appeals finally work, and Galadriel trusts him. The ghostly whisper of the ney accompanies him as he unlocks her chains. Rich orchestral celli respond in kind with a robust statement of the Galadriel theme as she confides in him the truth: that Elrond is on his way with an Elven army, bearing Nenya, her Ring of Power. This is the first time the Galadriel and Adar themes have coexisted in a musically consonant setting.
However, Adar reveals his treachery. He still fully intends to raze Eregion to the ground. Galadriel, in shock, trails behind him as they walk outside the tent, revealing his camp bustling with preparations for war. Here, the marching rhythm of the Adar theme quickly builds in intensity. Cresting a hill, Galadriel sees the entire valley below is filled with Orcs under Adar’s command, as massive brass chant the notes of his theme. Here, the soundtrack screams with layers of the Adar theme’s signature specialty wind instruments, including screaming Aztec death whistles, conches, and horns crafted from various pipes and bones.
Adar blows a war horn not unlike the various horns in the score. His armies rally. Brass players push their tone into an overdriven distortion, pounding out the notes of the Adar theme in its mightiest variation yet in the series. The sounds of Orcs chanting fill both the score and the Eregion valley.
I am particularly excited by the Orc chants in The Rings of Power season two. Though I have not mentioned it before, the sound of the chanting male vocals is quite different throughout this season. I was excited by the sound of chanting men we achieved last season with Vienna’s Synchron Stage Choir. However, I could not help but think we could reach an even more aggressive sound this season by adding a second choir to the Viennese singers for the Orc passages. As with every aspect of the score, I was on the hunt for ways to improve my craft. I yearned to add to the choir a more specialized sound for the Orc screams.
To my shock and delight, my team at Sparks & Shadows tracked down an ensemble called Mieskuoro Huutajat—a screaming men’s choir. Located in Finland and founded in the late 1980s by its conductor Petri Sirviö, this group looks like a traditional choir, with men of various ages dressed in formal attire. However, there is not a note to be heard at their concerts. No, they perform solely in screams, bellows, and various utterances.
The choir “was just an idea, born in a bar,” Petri told me recently. “Normally these don’t feel so brilliant the next morning, but this one kept on haunting me so long that I had to try it. The basic concept was clear: men dressed in black suits, with neat ties, like a disciplined military squad, but looking like punks from the collars up, shouting at the top of their voices, from holy patriotic marches to lovely lullabies. I had no idea it would go on like this for thirty-seven years and more.”
I connected with them and asked them to record a demo of one of my “Nampat!” chants. They sent me a video that left me grinning from ear to ear. Men stood in a line, and with extremely serious looks on their faces brought my Orc chants to terrifying life. These were scream artists. Scream virtuosos. I had found my Orcs! I could not wait to get them on The Rings of Power.
Logistically, I would later learn the challenges they faced singing on my rhythmically complex music. “Our guys don’t normally use scores,” Petri confessed, “but instead my own notation, where the short values or more complicated things are not written precisely.” Brian Claeys, a talented young music producer on my team at Sparks & Shadows, coached them remotely on my more complex rhythmic patterns.
While Mieskuoro Huutajat has been heard on various brief chants throughout the season, it was really during the climax of “Where Is He?” that they could finally shine.
ANNATAR’S ILLUSION
Across the mighty river, chaos ensues in Eregion, and yet Sauron walks calmly to a window, where he mysteriously slices his hand against a blaring statement of his theme in the brass and low male singers.
Celebrimbor, toiling away in his forge tower, briefly detects a commotion outside and goes to the window, only to be halted, with unusual physical aggression, by Annatar. A tense confrontation ensues as Celebrimbor’s anger and suspicion seem finally to be directed where they should: at his mysterious guest. Celebrimbor storms outside. In response, Sauron summons more magic from some inner reserve, leading to one of my favorite scenes in my career.
Though the audience knows the city is racked with panic, they are treated to the vision of it that veils Celebrimbor’s senses. He witnesses painters, architects, and craftsmen practicing their trades in the golden rays of sunset, while children laugh and play. Here, the score swells with the rich tones of children’s choir offering a pastoral statement of the Eregion theme.
Quenya:
Anwa mírë Eldanóreva, nostamen túrëo.
Ilvanië sis, lalámala, an aranielya.
English:
The very jewel of Elvendom, birthplace of power.
Perfection is here, echoing, for your Kingdom.
The audience has heard fragments of this theme throughout the course of the second season, but here they are finally treated to it in full. In fact, it was because I knew this scene was on the horizon that I felt compelled to write a theme for Eregion in the first place! I knew this scene, and its tragic aftermath, would be most effective if the audience became familiarized with a theme specific not to any character, but to Eregion itself.
Seeing this, Celebrimbor takes deep calming breaths. Annatar emerges from the forge doors and approaches him, speaking what is, in fact, the entire truth: he came here not because the Valar needed Celebrimbor’s skills, but because he does. His truth, though deeply sinister, is presented in a positive light. As with many of Annatar’s scenes, I scored the scene from Sauron’s own perspective, writing music he would want associated with himself. Here, the Sauron theme is presented in a harmonic arrangement that is uplifting, lush, even aspirational. Male singers gently offer an inspirational Quenya lyric.
Quenya:
Á kesta alkar, hilmindie oia.
Á aumenta i nonda ulkova utumna.
English:
Seek glory, legacy eternal.
Banish the grasp of evil infernal.
Passages like this delight me because the actual notes of the Sauron theme remain completely unchanged. One could take that top line of male vocals and transpose it directly onto any malevolent Sauron cue and it would fit perfectly. But, through the power of orchestration and harmonic manipulation, that same melody can feel angelic. This angelic form is, I believe, how Sauron actually sees himself. Therefore, the score supports his honesty with Celebrimbor here, even at the height of his manipulation and deception.
Moved, Celebrimbor nevertheless laments he has no more mithril with which to create rings. Annatar surprises him, and indeed the audience, with a vial of mithril powder he claims to have received from Narvi during his recent visit to Khazad-dûm. Here, strings whisper the chords of the Rings theme—fitting, because these chords originated with the introduction of the concept of mithril in Khazad-dûm in the first season.
Appealing to Celebrimbor’s innermost desire to step out from under the shadow of his legendary grandfather, the Elven smith Fëanor, Annatar makes his appeal, as they fittingly stand in the shadow of Fëanor’s statue at the heart of the courtyard. A solo French horn enters on a plaintive rendition of “Where the Shadows Lie.” This moment marks one of the very few times where the song’s entire verse and chorus melody are both stated in sequence in a dramatic scene. The theme is not only presented in its entirety, but also in its most heartfelt, beautiful arrangement yet.
Fans are likely aware that the Rings theme text is a setting of J.R.R. Tolkien’s famous Ring poem from The Lord of the Rings, revealed as a song sung by Fiona Apple at the end of the first season. I, for one, could not help but hear the words to this tune every time I wrote for it. Every time it appeared in a scene, I subconsciously heard the words to it, almost as a Pavlovian response. This phenomenon was especially effective in this scene. Though no choir or singer states Tolkien’s Ring poem, I still hear the words in my mind, feeling them like a phantom limb.
As I wrote, I marveled at how perfectly the song’s implied lyrics lined up with Annatar’s speech to Celebrimbor, and I made slight tempo adjustments to maximize the impact of this alignment. When Annatar says, “Your rings, the Rings of Power, they will be deemed the most precious creations in all Middle-earth,” the melodic line in the score corresponds to “Nine for mortal men doomed to die,” while darker orchestral brass sneak in. This gives the orchestration a slight sense of foreboding that will grow like storm clouds as the scene continues, gradually changing the tone from inspirational to ominous. When Celebrimbor grips Fëanor’s hammer, symbolically returning to Sauron’s clutches, the melodic line corresponds to “where the shadows lie.” Here, choir finally enters, mirroring Annatar’s dialogue in Quenya, “Á tura imle,” meaning “Best yourself.”
Now alone, Sauron beholds his tranquil illusion, while child soprano Juno Goode returns to the Sauron theme melody once again, offering insightful commentary in Quenya, “Raika indemma,” meaning “Twisted vision.”
The next moment is one of the episode’s most impressive feats of filmmaking prowess. Under the confident hand of director Sanaa Hamri, the camera spins around Sauron as his illusion fades, day turns to night, and the square is suddenly filled with panicked citizens. Sanaa’s brilliant camera movement is energized by the Sauron ostinato. Sauron’s melody emerges from the chaos in low male singers as the frame rate drops to slow motion. Camera movement is always one of the first indicators I look for in footage to inform my musical decisions. Looking back at the past twenty years of my career, one would be hard-pressed to find more than a handful of instances where the camera moved dramatically and I did not comment on it with music. This particular camera movement was utterly irresistible!
Sauron walks calmly to the parapet and raises his arms, overlooking the river. Showrunner J.D. Payne told me he always considered Sauron to be the orchestrator of all this chaos, so he pitched me a wild idea: What if we heard an orchestra tuning up when Sauron raises his arms? I leapt at the idea of suggesting Sauron is the orchestral conductor of a Symphony of Terror. For two weeks’ worth of recording sessions, we captured the orchestra tuning up at the start of each session. In postproduction, we took those layers and manipulated them into a chaotic symphonic soup for this moment. (I think I might borrow Sauron’s “Evil Conductor” style the next time I step up on the podium!)
Across the river, the Adar theme rages with bone flutes, screaming Aztec death whistles, pounding percussion, and blaring brass, all set against the barbaric chants of “Nampat!” from Mieskuoro Huutajat. A tragic statement of Galadriel’s theme wails from French horns as she tugs at her chains. The Sauron ostinato powers through both their themes, ever present, reminding the audience that it is, indeed, his design that brings them all together. The choir employs the full might of their voices to herald the rise of a new Dark Lord on the ominous notes of his melody.
Quenya:
Morna ríe vanya lyen
naite morinen.
Úhautima naxa, orya kéva.
English:
Crown of shadow passes to you
with darkness true.
Unstoppable evil, rise anew.
The Sauron theme ramps to a furious climax as the barrage begins, and a flaming ball of fire smashes the episode to black. With that promise of violence, I was relieved to have completed such a dramatic episode, but looked ahead with trepidation at the episode I now faced. “Doomed to Die” promised to be the most ambitious and epic episode of television of my entire career.
—Bear
