Cap-a-Pie (1)

21 Wednesday Oct 2026

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Horatio is describing to Hamlet a vision of the night before—

“Hor. Two nights together had these Gentlemen,

Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead vast and middle of the night.

Beene thus incountered by a figure like your father,

Armed to poynt, exactly Capapea

Appeeres before them thrise, he walkes

Before their weake and feare oppressed eies

Within his tronchions length…”

(from the First Quarto, 1603, of Hamlet, Act One, Scene 2, a somewhat quirky text, but, as always, I like to use Elizabethan/Jacobean spellings as they seem chewier to me and can sometimes indicate the very different sound of Shakespeare’s English.  For the complete text, see:  https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q1/scene/1/index.html  To hear Shakespeare’s English reconstructed, see:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2QYGEwM1Sk This is part of a whole series which I recommend as a real ear-opener, if you are unfamiliar with the sound of English c.1600.)

(Henry Fuseli—that is, Heinrich Fuessli, 1741-1825—a Swiss-born artist who spent most of his later life in England.  A painter of Shakespeare and the weird, friend of William Blake, and extremely interesting Romantic period character.  You can read more about him here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Fuseli#Influence )

That strange-looking “Capapea” is actually the “cap-a-pie” of my title and means “head-to-foot” in the French (roughly) it was taken from.  Hamlet’s father, then, was in full armor, something which was gradually disappearing from the military world of Shakespeare, but might still be seen in Tudor times, especially if someone was involved in one of the retro-tournaments which the Elizabethans and Jacobeans occasionally staged.

(Graham Turner)

My current interest in such things came from recently seeing, in a toy catalogue, this—

labeled as “Sauron”, a Lego model, and clearly based upon the image seen in the Jackson film of The Fellowship of the Ring,

where Sauron appears in Elrond’s account, from Chapter 2 of Book Two, “The Council of Elrond”, of the battle in which Sauron lost the Ring to Isildur.  There is no description of Sauron in the original text, but I wondered, looking at the Lego version, what Tolkien, rather than Jackson and his designers, might have had in mind, not only for Sauron’s look, but for armor in his story in general.  (This is just a cursory run-through, for the moment, but, on my next reading of the story, I’ll take more time—there are helmets, for instance, about which there is more to be said —such as whatever Gimli is wearing and what kind of helmet conceals Eowyn from her uncle—and the arming of the dwarves and Bilbo in The Hobbit might also be useful.)

We know from a letter to Rhona Beare how he imagined the Rohirrim:

“The Styles of the Bayeux Tapestry…fit them well enough, if one remembers that the kind of tennis-nets [the] soldiers seem to have on are only a clumsy conventional sign for chain-mail of small rings.”  (letter to Rhona Beare, 14 October, 1955, Letters, 401)

Here’s what JRRT was referring to—

and here’s what those “tennis-nets” would have been based upon—

The helmet is what’s called a “spangenhelm” and looks like this (with lots of variations)—

Tolkien had employed (and enjoyed) the work of Pauline Baynes (1922-2008), commenting, however, on her knights in the same letter:

“…Pauline Baynes drew her inspiration for F[armer] Giles [of Ham] largely from medieval MS. drawings—except for the knights (who are a bit ‘King-Arthurish’)…”

with this footnote:  “Sc. belong to our ‘mythological’ Middle-Ages which blends [sic] unhistorically styles and details over 500 years, and most of which did not of course exist in the Dark Ages of c.500 A.D.” 

Here’s one of Baynes’ illustrations—

Tolkien is dating King Arthur to early Dark Ages Britain, where warriors might have looked like this—

(Angus McBride)

“mythological” is an important word here, as Tolkien seems to be implying a fantasy world, where details from various periods can be–and are–used at random—and I wonder if he’s thinking here of something like Hal Foster’s long-running comic strip, “Prince Valiant”, which is set in the age of Arthur, but employs elements from all sorts of historical periods—

as does Howard Pyle, in his illustrations for The Story of King Arthur and His Knights (1903)—

of which you can have your own copy here:  https://dn720408.ca.archive.org/0/items/storyofkingarthu22pyle/storyofkingarthu22pyle.pdf

the irony being, of course, that Tolkien, himself, both in Farmer Giles and in The Lord of the Rings, is telling his own “mythological” stories.

There are scattered references to armored figures in the text, but, as far as I can tell, mostly just that, and not very detailed.  For the defenders of Gondor, instance, we are briefly shown Forlong of Lossnarch, as he leads his men into Minas Tirith—

“…a man of wide shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet mail-clad and black-helmed…”

Mail-clad would mean wearing chain-mail, like this (and like the Normans depicted as wearing “tennis-nets”)—

but “black-helmed” is vague—are we looking at the earlier spangenhelm, or a later closed helm of some sort?

There’s no mention of heraldry on shields or banners, and Forlong is recognized, so perhaps this means an open helm of some sort?

Imrahil of Dol Amroth appears to be a figure like those in Howard Pyle’s illustrations—

“…with gilded banners bearing his token of the Ship and the Silver Swan, and a company of knights in full harness…” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

So JRRT probably meant something like this, as “full harness” usually means full armor–

or this—

There are, as well, the Guards of the citadel of Gondor, described in more detail than usual:

“…robed in black, and their helms were of strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to the face, and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds, but the helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of mithril, heirlooms of the glory of old days.  Upon the black surcoats were embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and many-pointed stars.”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

That description of helmets does seem strange, in a way sounding like a Greek Corinthian helmet—

but the addition of the white wings takes things in a different direction and here I think that Jackson’s designers came close to what Tolkien had described–

So much for the protagonists of The Lord of the Rings, but what about the antagonists?  We’ll look at what they’re wearing in part 2 of this posting.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Be sure to be respectful of visiting ghosts—the watchmen in Hamlet actually try poking theirs with their partisans—

(Yeomen warders of the Tower of London armed with partisans)

And remember, that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Now You See Him, Now…

14 Wednesday Oct 2026

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Welcome, dear readers, as always.

In M. Night’s Shyamalan’s 2002 film Signs,

those signs, including crop circles—

will come to mean that the earth is about to be invaded from outer space.  Initially, all of this is eerie—we know that something is going to happen—and it does, but, until that moment, everything is oblique, suggested—but then we finally see one of those alien invaders and, for me, the magic of those first feelings of dread disappear.

Considering how the plot then develops, it would have been impossible for the aliens to have remained as mysterious as they had originally been presented, but think, for a moment, about The Lord of the Rings and its antagonists, Saruman and Sauron.

Saruman we see

(the Hildebrandts)

and we see a lot of him, first as the senior Maia, leader of a tiny band of five sent as a counter to Sauron—two of whom having disappeared (the so-called “Blue Wizards”) early from the history of Middle-earth, one, Radagast, seemingly self-marginalized, and only seen briefly before himself disappearing. 

(Lucas Graciano)

Then, Saruman appears as the attempted seducer of Gandalf,

(Harold Jigg)

the would-be Sauron trapped in his tower,

(Carl Lundgren)

as the outcast, followed by his lackey, Grima,

(Ted Nasmith)

as “Sharkey”, intent upon the destruction of the Shire,

(Inger Edelfeldt)

and finally as the victim of his lackey, with his final rejection by the power which sent him to Middle-earth.

(Joan Wyatt)

Because we see him again and again, first as a potential ally, but then as a boastful but timid rival to Sauron, then as someone trapped by the Ents in his tower,

(Ted Nasmith)

there is no mystery to him, and, as he sinks lower and lower, to his miserable end, he loses whatever menace he might ever have had. 

Sauron, on the other hand, remains only a dark presence, at the edge of the story, and it’s interesting that Tolkien’s one image of him is this—

(JRRT)

in itself, shadowy—and, when we do actually see him, it’s only one element—

and this suggests to me a kind of intense watchfulness—like Big Brother, in Orwell’s 1984—

who is spoken of, but, like Sauron, never seen.  Even his end—although spectacular—

(Ted Nasmith)

gives us only a final image of—a hand, like JRRT’s depiction, leaving us with a picture of a powerful failure—but still powerful, although, like his non-appearance in The Lord of the Rings, more suggestive as menacing shadow than like Saruman’s all-too-visible presence–

“And as the Captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky.  Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast, threatening hand, terrible, but impotent:  for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 4, “The Field of Cormallen”)

I’m not disappointed that we see so much of Saruman—he’s a lesser character, a pale copy of his eventual greater master, and his end is, in its way, a sad one, someone sent to do good in Middle-earth, but whose arrogance corrupts him.  As with Signs, however, much of Sauron’s power lies in the fact that he is unseen, but often spoken of, and usually in hushed tones, but, unlike Signs, he is kept in the shadows and that shadow enhances that feeling of brooding threat almost till the end.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

If tempted to put on the Ring, think of Galadriel and starlight, lest you be seen by the Eye,

(the Hildebrandts)

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Stand and Deliver, or, Pick a Pocket or Two

07 Wednesday Oct 2026

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As always, dear readers, welcome.

I’ve just finished rereading Leon Garfield’s (1921-1996) YA novel Smith:  The Story of a Pickpocket (1967).

I had discovered Garfield through an essay by Philip Pullman (1946-),

another YA author, whose work I’ve read and reread since I first discovered him in a book review of The Golden Compass (1995, called Northern Lights in the UK),

the first volume of a trilogy titled “His Dark Materials”.

Like Pullman, Garfield was a prolific author, from his first novel, Jack Holborn (1964),

to The Saracen Maid (1994—I believe that this was his last, although bibliographies of his work are a little murky), some 37 books in all.

As the subtitle suggests, the Smith of the title is a pickpocket,

 in 18th-century London, a dangerous occupation, as, from 1565, the law dictated the death penalty for the crime (later changed to transportation, initially to America, then to Australia—see for more:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pickpocketing#Pickpocketing_in_the_17th-18th_centuries For lots of images of pickpockets at work, see:  https://www.18thcenturynotebook.com/pickpockets  )

We are not told how he learned the trade, but I immediately thought of the sinister thief-trainer, Fagin,

(Bartek Kubica)

In Charles Dickens’ (1812-1870)

Oliver Twist (1837-39).

For a rather overthetop depiction of this training, see this scene from the film version of the  musical Oliver! (stage version, 1960, film 1968):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BtRMxBYaqs

Garfield’s novel has the hero, Smith, beginning as a pickpocket, but his pickpocketing brings him to witness a murder, then the rescue of a blind magistrate, who then takes him in.  (That blind magistrate echoes an actual 18th-century blind magistrate, John Fielding, 1721-1780, half-brother of the novelist, Henry Fielding.  Fielding is a very interesting character and worth knowing more about.  See:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Fielding ) 

The “stand and deliver” of the title of this posting refers to the fact that Smith (his first name isn’t used, although his sisters occasionally call him “Smut”) belongs, because of his profession, to the criminal underworld of London and his idol is another criminal, the highwayman, Lord Tom (Smith’s sisters are even involved, indirectly, being low-level seamstresses, who repair and sell the clothes of people executed for various crimes).

The character of a highwayman made me think of the silly Monty Python “Dennis Moore”

a bit of whose confused career you can see here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LFZ-MssIbA

and of Alfred Noyes’ 1906 romantic poem “The Highwayman”, which you can read here:  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43187/the-highwayman

Lord Tom is paralleled by another highwayman, “Dick Mulrone”, caught and sentenced to be executed,

but meanwhile held in Newgate Prison,

which Smith frequents, first as a visitor (among his jobs—beyond pickpocketing—is to run errands for prisoners), then as an inmate himself.

Before witnessing the murder, Smith had pickpocketed something which turned out not to be cash, or a watch, but a document—which appears valueless to him, as he can’t read, and his quest to learn to do so becomes a major plot element as he crisscrosses central London, first in that quest, but then through all sorts of adventures, including an escape from Newgate as well as from two knife-wielding pursuers, dressed in brown.  There are all sorts of surprising turns until a happy ending, qualified by one final twist, in a book which brings various elements of 18th-century London to life, from the comfortable house of the well-to-do magistrate to the squalid conditions of the debtors and criminals in Newgate, with a suggestion, more than once, of Dickens thrown in.  Having just reread it, I realize that I did because I had so much enjoyed it the first time and so I recommend it to you.  Unfortunately most of Garfield’s work is out of print with only one or two exceptions, but, if you read and enjoy Smith, another of Garfield’s novels, John Diamond,

which I’m currently reading, is available at Amazon, and most of his work can be found for free—if you register and join—at the Internet Archive:  https://archive.org/search?query=creator%3A%22Garfield%2C+Leon%22

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Stay out of Newgate,


And remember that, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Death and the Rohirrim

30 Wednesday Sep 2026

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Welcome, dear readers, as always.

“I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be.  Thus shall I sleep better…”

says Theoden to Gandalf.  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

As Theoden has just said “to fall in the front of the battle”, it’s clear that he means here not falling asleep, but dying, and that’s exactly what he does, leading the Rohirrim against Sauron’s armies at the battle of the Pelennor Fields,

(Denis Gordeev)

and dying after tangling with the chief of the Nazgul.

(Angus McBride)

But where will he “sleep”?

Snowmane, his horse, whose reaction to the Nazgul’s ghastly mount,

(Ted Nasmith)

led to Theoden’s death, is buried under a mound on the battlefield—

“…but for Snowmane they dug a grave and set up a stone upon which was carved in the tongues of Gondor and the Mark:

‘Faithful servant, yet master’s bane,

Lightfoot’s foal, swift Snowmane.’

Green and long grew the grass on Snowmane’s Howe…” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 6, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields”)

A “howe” is a burial mound,

and the word appears to come originally from Norse haugr, “mound; cairn” says Etymonline (https://www.etymonline.com/word/howe If you are a Narnia fan, you probably think immediately of Aslan’s Howe— )

(Pauline Baynes)

When Sauron is finally defeated, we know what then happens to Theoden’s body—

“Then the kings of Gondor and Rohan went to the Hallows and they came to the tombs of Rath Dinen, and they bore away King Theoden upon a golden bier, and passed through the City in silence.  Then they laid the bier upon a great wain

(perhaps something like this—but without the bagpiper—and the rooster)

with Riders of Rohan all about it and his banner borne before; and Merry being Theoden’s esquire rode upon the wain and kept the arms of the King…

At length after fifteen days of journey the wain of King Theoden passed through the green fields of Rohan and came to Edoras; and there they all rested…after three days the Men of the Mark prepared the funeral of Theoden; and he was laid in a house of stone with his arms and many other fair things that he had possessed, and over him was raised a great mound, covered with green turves of grass and of white evermind.  And now there were eight mounds on the east-side of the Barrowfield.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 6, “Many Partings”.)

We’ve seen these mounds before—

“At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green…

‘Look!’ said Gandalf…we are come to the great barrows where the sires of Theoden sleep.’

‘Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right,’ said Aragorn.”  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

Since first reading this, I could always see those mounds—

and it made me wonder where JRRT got the idea.  My first thought was the ship burial at Sutton Hoo, which came to public attention in 1939—

and which Tolkien would have read about in the news of the day.  (And which you can read about here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutton_Hoo# )

The person buried in the ship certainly had “many…fair things”, now restored and kept in the British Museum—

Tolkien might also have been aware of Viking ship burials in Scandinavia, like that of the Oseberg ship, excavated in Norway in 1904-5—

which you can read about here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutton_Hoo#  And you can read about Viking ship burials in general here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norse_funeral

He could also have been aware of the Six Hills in Stevenage, England, thought to be Roman burial mounds—

(ricjl   For more images, see:  h)ttps://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1475  For more on the site, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Hills  )

or he might have been inspired by places like the early Neolithic West Kennet Long Barrow—

(see for more:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Kennet_Long_Barrow )

or even the many barrows in Ireland (for more, see:  https://www.danielkirkpatrick.co.uk/irish-history/irish-barrows-map/ )

but his ultimate sources were probably the burials of Patroclus (in Iliad, Book 23, lines 245-248—my translation—Achilles is speaking to the Greeks)–

τύμβον δ’ οὐ μάλα πολλὸν ἐγὼ πονέεσθαι ἄνωγα,

ἀλλ’ ἐπιεικέα τοῖον· ἔπειτα δὲ καὶ τὸν Ἀχαιοὶ

εὐρύν θ’ ὑψηλόν τε τιθήμεναι, οἵ κεν ἐμεῖο

δεύτεροι ἐν νήεσσι πολυκλήϊσι λίπησθε.

“But I order you not to labor over a very big barrow,

But such as is suitable [for the moment].  But then

Make it broad and high, [you] Greeks,

Those of my survivors who may be left in the many-oared ships.”

and of Hector (Iliad, Book 24, 795-799—again, my translation)

καὶ τά γε χρυσείην ἐς λάρνακα θῆκαν ἑλόντες

πορφυρέοις πέπλοισι καλύψαντες μαλακοῖσιν.

αἶψα δ’ ἄρ’ ἐς κοίλην κάπετον θέσαν, αὐτὰρ ὕπερθε

πυκνοῖσιν λάεσσι κατεστόρεσαν μεγάλοισι·

ῥίμφα δὲ σῆμ’ ἔχεαν…

“and taking them [Hector’s bones], they put them in a golden chest,

Covering [them] with soft purple robes.

At once they placed [the chest] in a hollowed-out grave, then from above

They covered it with big, thick-set stones.

And quickly then they heaped up the mound…”

and, of course, Beowulf–

“The men of the Weders made accordingly

A hill on the height, high and extensive,

Of sea-going sailors to be seen from a distance,

And the brave one’s beacon built where the fire was,

In ten-days’ space, with a wall surrounded it,

As wisest of world-folk could most worthily plan it.

They placed in the barrow rings and jewels,

All such ornaments as erst in the treasure

War-mooded men had won in possession :

The earnings of earlmen to earth they entrusted,

The gold to the dust, where yet it remaineth

As useless to mortals as in foregoing eras.”

(Beowulf, John Lesslie Hall, translator, 1892—see:   https://archive.org/details/beowulfanglosaxo00hall/page/106/mode/2up )

And even more Beowulf in this—

“Then the Riders of the King’s House upon white horses rode round about the barrow and sang together a song of Theoden Thengel’s son…” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 6, “Many Partings”.) 

which clearly comes from this—

“Round the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle,

Bairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people,

More would they mourn, lament for their ruler,

Speak in measure, mention him with pleasure,

Weighed his worth, and his warlike achievements

Mightily commended, as ’tis meet one praise his

Liegelord in words and love him in spirit,

When forth from his body he fares to destruction.

So lamented mourning the men of the Geats,

Fond-loving vassals, the fall of their lord,

Said he was gentlest of kings under heaven,

Mildest of men and most philanthropic,

Friendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor.”

(again from the Hall translation)

And there, we can imagine, Theoden sleeps still.

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

And remember that, as ever, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Minor?

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As ever, dear readers, welcome.

It’s true, as I said in my posting about War and Peace, that the novel certainly appears to have a lot of characters, many of them minor, people who appear for a scene or two, as T.S. Eliot (1888-1965) writes, speaking in the voice of “Prufrock”:

“No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse…”

(from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, first published in Poetry, June, 1915)

I would say that this is also true for The Lord of the Rings, with its many characters, some of whom “start a scene or two”—think of Sandyman the miller, for example, and his son, Ted, two sceptical Hobbits, who pop up in the first chapters of the book, foils for Gaffer Gamgee and his son, Sam, with their gossip about the Bagginses and traveling Ents—definitely “scene-starters”, though not much more.

Then there are minor characters who, for a moment, have more major roles and here I’m thinking of Hama, the doorward of Meduseld.

(This is from the wonderfully creative Lego “Rebrickable” site:  https://rebrickable.com/mocs/MOC-174256/Sir%20BuildsALot/meduseld-the-golden-hall-of-edoras/#details which is all about building new things with Legos.)

In a letter to the editor of The Observer, Tolkien had stated of The Hobbit:

“Beowulf is among my most valued sources…”  (letter to the editor, 20 February, 1938, Letters, 41)

and, in the case of Hama, this continues to be true.

At the beginning of Beowulf, Hrothgar, the king of the Danes, is in trouble.  His mead hall (which the English for “Meduseld”)

has been attacked, for 12 years, by a monster from the moors—Grendel.

Security is tight, therefore, in Denmark, so, when Beowulf arrives from Sweden with his companions, he is first stopped and questioned by a coast guard,

and then, at Hrothgar’s door by Wolfgar, the doorward–

“As the party was approaching the palace together

They set their arms and armor against the wall.

In warlike equipments. ’Gainst the wall of the building

Their wide-fashioned war-shields they weary did set then,

Battle-shields sturdy; benchward they turned then;

Their battle-sarks rattled, the gear of the heroes;

The lances stood up then, all in a cluster,

The arms of the seamen, ashen-shafts mounted

With edges of iron: the armor-clad troopers.”

Wolfgar then questions them–

“A Danish hero asks them whence and why they are come.

Were decked with weapons. Then a proud-mooded hero

Asked of the champions questions of lineage:

“From what borders bear ye your battle-shields plated,

Gilded and gleaming, your gray-colored burnies,

Helmets with visors and heap of war-lances?—

To Hrothgar the king I am servant and liegeman.

’Mong folk from far-lands found I have never

He expresses no little admiration for the strangers.

Men so many of mien more courageous.

I ween that from valor, nowise as outlaws,

But from greatness of soul ye sought for King Hrothgar.”

(from John Lesslie Hall’s 1892 translation, which you can read here:  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/16328/16328-h/16328-h.htm#page_5 This translation suggests the heavy alliteration and rhythm of the original, but it’s occasionally archaic, so, if you’d prefer, there are many others out there.   There have, in fact, been English translations since 1837 and you can see a list of most of them here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_translations_of_Beowulf )

Here, we see Wolfgar (his name is mentioned in line 30) greet and question Beowulf and his companions after they have put down their weapons.  In the same scene in The Lord of the Rings, Hama is less friendly—

“ ‘I am the Doorward of Theoden,’ he said.  ‘Hama is my name.  Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter.’ “

Legolas easily lays aside his weapons, but Aragorn resists, saying,  “It is not my will…to put aside my sword or to deliver Anduril to the hand of any other man.“

To which Hama replies:  “It is the will of Theoden.”

And here Aragorn begins to sound rather high-handed:

“It is not clear to me that the will of Theoden son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil’s heir of Gondor.”

This almost causes a political disaster as Hama replies:

“This is the house of Theoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor.”

And then—

“[Hama] step[s] swiftly before the doors and bar[s] the way.  His sword was now in his hand and the point towards the strangers.”

Gandalf temporarily calms the situation, but then Hama says to Gandalf:

“ ‘Your staff…Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors.’ “

Gandalf pleads old age and Hama, hesitating for a moment, then allows him to keep it and, by doing so, steps from minor character for a moment to major as, when Gandalf and the others enter the hall, they find

(the Hildebrandts)

“…a man so bent with age he seemed almost a dwarf…”

(Alan Lee)

as well as “…a woman clad in white..”

and

“At his feet upon the steps sat a wizened figure of a man, with a pale white face and heavy-lidded eyes.”

This is Grima Wormtongue, who, we soon find out, is not the loyal counselor of Theoden he pretends to be, but an agent of Saruman,

(the Hildebrandts)

bent upon betraying the king.  Angered by him, Gandalf

“…raised his staff.  There was a roll of thunder.  The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night.  The fire faded to sullen embers.  Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall before the blackened hearth.

In the gloom, they heard the hiss of Wormtongue’s voice.  ‘Did I not counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff?  That fool, Hama, has betrayed us!’  There was a flash as if lightning had cloven the roof.  Then all was silent.  Wormtongue sprawled on his face.” 

With Grima thrown down, great age falls away from Theoden—

“He drew himself up, slowly, as a man that is stiff from long bending over some dull toil.  Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he looked into the opening sky.”  (all of the above from The Lord of the Rings, Book Three, “The Two Towers”, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

In fact, Hama hasn’t betrayed Theoden, but has given Gandalf the weapon to free the king from Grima’s betrayal and what seems to have been some sort of aging spell.

Theoden then goes on to fight at Helm’s Deep,

(Angus McBride)

to lead the charge at the Fields of the Pelennor,

(Denis Gordeev)

and to die heroically at the battle’s end.

(Angus McBride)

Hama is no Prince Hamlet, but, in allowing Gandalf to keep his staff, he has done more than “start a scene”—he has restarted his king, and, in doing so, he has brought Theoden back into the story, leading the Rohirrim to actions which will help to thwart both Saruman and Sauron—not bad for a minor character.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

And, as always, know that there’s

MTCIDC

O

An Homeric PS

16 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As always, dear readers, welcome.

I earlier posted a review of Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey (see “Out of Work Athena”, 12 August, 2026),

but I’ve thought a lot about the film since and I felt that it might be helpful to add a second note on the subject–about the film’s ending, in particular.

Here’s what the Wiki article has to say:

“After the meal, Odysseus, still disguised, confesses to Penelope his guilt for violating Zeus’ law during the sacking of Troy, desecrating Athena‘s statue after killing her priestess (whose form Athena assumed in visions), and initiating the collapse of the Bronze Age… After the remaining suitors surrender, Odysseus cedes his throne to Telemachus and leaves with Penelope to seek peace in exile. Sailing west to honor his fallen soldiers, the couple expect civilization’s renewal and muse that time will forget Odysseus’ mistakes.”

I was surprised when I read this and even more surprised when I saw it acted out on the screen.  This may be “Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey”, but it’s not “Homer’s”.  And that subtitle on the poster, “Defy the Gods” shows the major difference, as I began to demonstrate in my earlier posting.  Athena is Odysseus’ patron and therefore the last god he would “defy”, but it’s because of another god that Odysseus will perform the action which is first laid out for him in the Otherworld by the seer Tireisias.

Odysseus’ trouble began in Book Nine, where Odysseus tells his Phaeacian audience (an important part of the story left out of the film) that, previously trapped by Polyphemus, the Cyclops, in the Cyclops’ cave, he has escaped after blinding him.

Groping his way to the shore in pursuit of the fleeing Odysseus, Polyphemus attempts to destroy him and his men by heaving the equivalent of a mountain top at them.

In the process of escaping, Odysseus does something which may seem rash, if not downright crazy, to us (and Odysseus’ crew would agree).  He shouts to the Cyclops:

“Κύκλωψ, αἴ κέν τίς σε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων

ὀφθαλμοῦ εἴρηται ἀεικελίην ἀλαωτύν,

φάσθαι Ὀδυσσῆα πτολιπόρθιον ἐξαλαῶσαι,

υἱὸν Λαέρτεω, Ἰθάκῃ ἔνι οἰκίʼ ἔχοντα.”

(Od. 9.502–9.505—my translation)

“Cyclops, if any one of mortal men

Should ask [you] about the shameful blinding of [your] eye,

Say that city-destroying Odysseus blinded [it],

The son of Laertes, having his home on Ithaka.”

Doing so, Odysseus seems to have just handed over his name and address to his victim, even though the story makes it clear that Polyphemus’, by killing and eating a number of Odysseus’ men, deserved what he got.  (Polyphemus also violated the Greek custom of xenia, hospitality/guest-friendship, which, as Odysseus earlier had pointed out to him, was overseen by Zeus—unlike the completely imaginary “Zeus’ law”, which is mentioned more than once in the film.  Odysseus, by the way, when speaking to Polyphemus, is obeying another actual early Greek custom, if not “law”:  that of kleos.  This is a hard word to translate, meaning something like “reputation/fame”, and Odysseus, to add the escape of the Cyclops to it, must let his enemy know who tricked him, even though, in this case, it brings him and his men into mortal danger.)

Polyphemus, thwarted in destroying Odysseus there and then, prays to his father, Poseidon,

for revenge, something which is mentioned by Zeus at the beginning of Book One of the Odyssey (lines 68-75) when Athena approaches him for help in getting Odysseus out of the clutches of Calypso on the island of Ogygia and sent on his way home.  (Odysseus, by the way, hasn’t, as in the film, forgotten about home, stoked up on lotos, but, instead, grieves for it every day—see Book One, lines 55-59.) 

We then see Poseidon’s revenge told by Odysseus in Book Five, as Odysseus, aided by Calypso (through Zeus’ prompting via his messenger, Hermes), is attempting to get home via a homemade raft.  Poseidon spots the raft, with Odysseus on it, and works up a violent storm which partially destroys the raft and drops Odysseus into the sea before he can regain the wreckage, now at the mercy of the waves. (see Book Five, lines 282-332)

Odysseus survives, saved by the mysterious Phaeacians (whom I’ve mentioned earlier) and sent home by them, although Poseidon, annoyed by their helping Odysseus, turns the ship which carried Odysseus to stone as a punishment (see Book Thirteen, lines 125-165)

Odysseus is left with a very serious problem, however:  he lives on an island, among sea-faring people:  how will he ever be safe from Poseidon?  The answer lies in the directions which Tireisias gave him in their Otherworld meeting.  Once Odysseus has killed the suitors (all the suitors—unlike the film, Odysseus shows no mercy in the poem), Tireisias says:

“ἔρχεσθαι δὴ ἔπειτα λαβὼν ἐυῆρες ἐρετμόν,

εἰς ὅ κε τοὺς ἀφίκηαι οἳ οὐκ ἴσασι θάλασσαν

ἀνέρες, οὐδέ θʼ ἅλεσσι μεμιγμένον εἶδαρ ἔδουσιν·

οὐδʼ ἄρα τοί γʼ ἴσασι νέας φοινικοπαρῄους

οὐδʼ ἐυήρεʼ ἐρετμά, τά τε πτερὰ νηυσὶ πέλονται.

σῆμα δέ τοι ἐρέω μάλʼ ἀριφραδές, οὐδέ σε λήσει·

ὁππότε κεν δή τοι συμβλήμενος ἄλλος ὁδίτης

φήῃ ἀθηρηλοιγὸν ἔχειν ἀνὰ φαιδίμῳ ὤμῳ,

καὶ τότε δὴ γαίῃ πήξας ἐυῆρες ἐρετμόν,

ῥέξας ἱερὰ καλὰ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι…”

(Od. 11.115–11.130—my translation)

“Go, then, having taken a broad[bladed] oar,

Until you reach those men who don’t know the sea,

[and] neither do they eat food mixed with salt

Nor yet do they know ships with painted bows [literally “purple cheeks”],

Nor broad[bladed] oars, [which] are the wings of ships.

And I will tell you a very clear sign [which] you won’t miss:

Whenever some traveler, meeting you,

Should say that you have a winnowing fan on your splendid shoulder,

Then, having stuck the broad[bladed] oar in the earth,

Having made fine sacrifices to the lord Poseidon…”

go home and continue making sacrifices to the gods.  And, having done so, Odysseus will have an easy death in old age and his people will be blessed.  Although Odysseus later relates this to Penelope (see Book Twenty-three, lines 248-284), we don’t see him do it in the poem, but he certainly doesn’t “sail west to honor his fallen soldiers” (why west?  And how does that “honor his fallen soldiers”?)

It’s clear, from Tireisias’ directions, that what Odysseus is meant to do to placate Poseidon includes getting as far away from the sea as he can—but what’s this business with the oar and a “winnowing fan”?

In earlier times, the process of producing flour was complex.  One had to:

1. harvest the grain,

2. break the beards of grain off the stalks, called “threshing”,

3. then, often by tossing it up, using the air to free the grain from the husks which cover it, called “winnowing”,

before grinding the final product into powder—flour.

Winnowing could be done by tossing the grain in its husks into the air from a basket,

or by forking it into the air by a “winnowing fan”.

Probably because the fork had a long shaft, like an oar, Tireisias was suggesting that, meeting someone so far inland as to be ignorant of boats that he would confuse an oar with an agricultural tool, Odysseus would be safe from Poseidon’s natural element and could make his sacrifice to placate the god.

So—no abdication, no sailing west, nor restoration of civilization, but a godly man, so long protected by a goddess, now seeking peace by appeasing a god he has angered:  a very different and reverent story—and ending of the story–from Christopher Nolan’s, with its totally manufactured “defiance”.

Thanks for reading, as always,

Stay well,

Always check before assaulting someone—he might be related to a vengeful god,

And remember, as well, that there’s always

MTCIDC

O

December in September

09 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As ever, welcome, dear readers.

Recently, I watched an historical film which has been on my shelves for some time.

In English, this would be “Union of Salvation” which title, because the image includes what is clearly a soldier in a shako (a kind of military hat worn mostly in the first half of the 19th century),

may make you wonder—along with the title of this posting—what’s this one going to be about?

There are clues, however, both in the film’s title and in the posting’s title:  we’re beginning this posting with a film about the Decembrists, a group of Russian would-be revolutionaries, who, under the name “the Union of Salvation”, led a military uprising against the government in St Petersburg in December, 1825.

The soldiers involved included units of the tsar’s own bodyguard, who paraded in what was then called Senate Square to proclaim their support of a new tsar, Constantine,

 and a constitution.  Instead, it was revealed that Constantine had previously declined the position of tsar, so the new tsar would be his younger brother, Nicholas.

Nicholas, in fact, first attempted to deal with the rebels, but, when his emissary, the distinguished general Miloradovich, was mortally wounded by one of the rebels,

things went rapidly downhill and the new tsar turned his artillery on the troops, shooting down a number before the rest fled in confusion.

After this, Nicholas pursued the rebels, many were rounded up, and punishments ranged from demotion in rank to exile to Siberia,

to execution—the most prominent being that of the five men deemed the ringleaders.

The film was a striking one–beautifully made, with what appeared to be Star Wars quality CGI,

but, because I already knew the outcome, there was a grim, fateful feel to the film, even though I very much admired and appreciated the work which had clearly gone into it.  The conspirators were both ambitious and idealistic and even a little naïve, and, at the moment of crisis, things came apart and they and their attempted revolt failed miserably.  It’s a powerful film, and well worth watching, even if you are aware of its conclusion.  The version of the film I saw had subtitles which looked like they’d been done by an AI with almost no knowledge of idiomatic Russian, producing some very odd translations, but there is a far superior version on YouTube, which you can see here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_JiQWe36xM  Before you do, however, I would suggest that, to understand the complexities of the revolt (and it was complex—lots of personalities and plans), watch this very good documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXx_jLEG4KU 

Those who were sent into exile in Siberia made new lives for themselves there, but there were some who always hoped for pardon and, in 1856, with the accession of a new tsar, Alexander II (son of Nicholas),

they were allowed to return westward, and old noble privileges were even restored to their children.  (For more on this, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decembrist_revolt )

This event, we’re told, inspired a writer already known for Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (1852-56),

(which you can read here:  https://archive.org/details/childhood-boyhood-youth-e-lev-tolstoy/page/n5/mode/2up )

Sebastopol Sketches (1855),

(which you can read here:  https://tolstoyarchive.org/Fiction/books/Sevastopol%20Sketches.pdf )

and The Cossacks (1863),

(which you can read here: https://archive.org/details/landedproprietor00tols/page/n7/mode/2up

Count Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910),

 to begin a new work, which would be based upon the revolt and its consequences.  He commenced his novel in 1863, but realized that, to make sense out of the events of 1825, he would have to go back in time, and the first version of this work was entitled 1805, and published in 1865, but then came years of revision and occasional publication of drafts until the final version, now entitled War and Peace, appeared in 1869.  (The creation and publishing history is as complex as the Decembrist plot—you can follow it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_Peace )  And, although there is a hint of the Decembrists in an epilogue, the actual events of 1825 have completely disappeared from the novel which Tolstoy eventually published.

It’s a novel I’m now beginning to read for what I think is the 9th time, and, each time, I’m surprised at how easily I’ve been pulled in.

It’s long—the estimate of one translation is 628,215 words—and it has many secondary characters, but the primary characters—Pierre, Andrei, Natasha—are so vividly drawn that, reading, it’s those you follow, even as you do Andrei’s family—his seemingly severe father, his gentle, pious sister—and Natasha’s family—her overly-generous father, her loving mother, her siblings and their attachments.  And you watch Pierre gradually grow from the troubled, illegitimate son of a nobleman into a deeply thoughtful and kindly man.   As well, although Tolstoy had originally intended a very different historical novel, we see these characters set against the history of Russia in the period of the Napoleonic wars, beginning with its defeat, along with its Austrian ally, at Austerlitz in 1805 (you can read more about that here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Austerlitz#General_references )


through Napoleon’s invasion and eventual defeat in 1812, with the burning of Moscow

and the terrible French retreat, through deepening winter and Russian pursuit.

There are battles,

but the majority of scenes are from civilian life:  dances, a hunt, jealousies, weddings, family struggles, even a duel. 

If this interests you, but the idea of such a massive work seems, potentially, a little overwhelming, I would start with the second BBC series from 2016.

This wisely concentrates upon those three primary characters (they are depicted in this image) and, having seen that, you can form a good idea of the shape of the book as a whole, then turn to what many believe to be the best modern translation—

or, having read this intelligent opinion–https://tolstoytherapy.com/tips-for-reading-war-and-peace-first-time-tolstoy/ –perhaps this translation—

and see what you think.  If you’re like me, you’ll become hooked and find yourself reembarking on this long but wonderful book again and again.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

Be glad that Napoleon was eventually defeated and exiled to a tiny island from which he didn’t return,

And remember that, also as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Fan/Finn Fiction

02 Wednesday Sep 2026

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Welcome, as ever, dear readers.

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I have a mostly positive view of fan fiction.  On the one hand, it can be a good teacher:  how many modern fantasy writers have used, say, Tolkien, or even his characters, as a model when they were first beginning to write?  And, on the other, there are those moments in Tolkien which are nothing but brief mentions—like the cats of Queen Beruthiel–(mentioned by Aragorn in The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 4, “A Journey in the Dark”—“He is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Beruthiel.”  Tolkien once wrote of them:  “I have yet to discover anything about the cats of Queen Beruthiel.”—letter to W.H. Auden, 7 June, 1955, Letters, 316—although he had a little more to say in Unfinished Tales, 419, including the mysterious end of the Queen.)

(Steamey—see more of his art here:  https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Art_by_Steamey )

where one might wish that someone—a clever fan, respectful of the original material–would write more about her.  It wouldn’t be Tolkien, but it might be fun.  (I say a clever and respectful fan as there are moments in some of the films based upon Tolkien where there is such a clear violation of Tolkien’s work—I mention only “Tauriel” in the Hobbit as an obvious example—that I, for one, could wish that the “fan” there had left the story as JRRT had written it.)

It recently occurred to me that, in fact, Tolkien, himself once wrote such fiction, early in his career.

This began when Tolkien was at the end of his time at King Edward’s School,

when

“And at about this time he discovered the Finnish Kalevala…the collection of poems which is the principal repository of Finland’s mythology.  Not long afterwards he wrote appreciatively of ‘this strange people and these new gods, this race of unhypocritical low-brow scandalous heroes,’ adding ‘the more I read of it, the more I felt at home and enjoyed myself.’   He had discovered the Kalevala in W.H. Kirby’s Everyman translation, and he determined to find an edition in the original Finnish as soon as possible.”  (Carpenter, J.R.R. Tolkien, 57.  Here are the two volumes of the Kirby for you:    https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.102315/page/n7/mode/2up and https://dn760104.eu.archive.org/0/items/kalevalalandofhe02kirbiala/kalevalalandofhe02kirbiala.pdf  )

The Kalevala, in fact, is just what Carpenter says, a “collection of poems” which contain a series of songs about various heroes of Finnish folklore, assembled into a volume by Elias Loennrot (1802-1884),

a Swedish doctor with a strong interest in philology and folklore, after a number of collecting trips in the area of what is now Finland and beyond from 1828 to 1845.

He published the first edition of his work in 1835,

and a second in 1849.  These songs were chanted in a rhythm which H.W. Longfellow (1807-1882)

 later employed in his epic poem The Song of Hiawatha, 1855, (which should be pronounced, according to Longfellow’s own phonetic spelling, as Hee-a-WA-tha),

which opens with

“Should you ask me, whence these stories?

Whence these legends and traditions,

With the odours of the forest,

With the dew and damp of meadows,

With the curling smoke of wigwams,

With the rushing of great rivers,

With their frequent repetitions,

And their wild reverberations,

As of thunder in the mountains?”

(You can have your own copy of the first English edition from 1855 here:  https://archive.org/details/songhiawathathe00longrich/page/n3/mode/2up   There is a very comic and deft parody of this by Lewis Carroll, “Hiawatha’s Photographing”, from his Phantasmagoria, 1869,   which you can read here:  https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Phantasmagoria_and_Other_Poems   For the influence of the Kalevala on the prosody of “The Song of Hiawatha”, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Song_of_Hiawatha ) 

Commonly, two would perform the songs, clasping hands and rocking back and forth, as in this photograph.

Those songs, many about magical events and objects and bloody revenge, clearly fascinated the young Tolkien and that fascination almost destroyed his academic career at Oxford as he admits:

“But the beginning of the legendarium, of which the Trilogy is part (the conclusion), was in an attempt to reorganize some of the Kalevala, especially the tale of Kullervo the hapless,

(Aleksi Gallen-Kallela, 1899)

Into a form of my own.  That began, as I say, in the Honour Mods [the initial exams at Oxford] period; nearly disastrously as I came very near having my exhibition [scholarship] taken off me if not being sent down [expelled].”  (to W.H. Auden, 7 June, 1955, Letters, 313)

This led to:

“He was also trying his hand at writing.  His enthusiasm for William Morris had given him the idea of adapting one of the stories from the Finnish Kalevala into a Morris-style prose-and-verse romance.  He chose the story of Kullervo, a hapless young man who unknowingly commits incest and, when he discovers it, throws himself onto his sword.  Tolkien began work on ‘The Story of Kullervo’ as he called it, and although it was little more than a pastiche of Morris it was his first essay in the writing of a legend in verse and prose.  He left it unfinished.”  (Carpenter, 80-81).

As to the adventures of the “hapless Kullervo”, you can read about him in detail here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kullervo and read his story in translation on pages 100-125 in volume 2 of the Kirby translation cited above.

As well, you can read Tolkien’s William Morris/Finnish fan fiction in an edition published in 2015

with an article on the edition here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Kullervo .  And read more about Morris—and Tolkien—in “Remembering the North”, 15 March, 2023, here:  https://doubtfulsea.com//?s=william+morris&search=Go )

And so I have another reason for a mostly positive view of fan fiction:  Tolkien.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Ask yourself what would be the basis of your fan fiction,

(myself, I would like to continue the story of the Turbin family from Mikhail Bulgakov’s The White Guard, 1924—for a detailed summary of the book see:  https://sovlit.net/whiteguard/ )

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Demons on the Big Screen

26 Wednesday Aug 2026

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As always, welcome, dear readers.

Some time ago, I was talking about the mining of minor Tolkien to make major films, specifically about taking a page of an appendix of The Lord of the Rings to make The War of the Rohirrim.

Although I admired the effort which went into making that film (and basing it on the look of anime), I said then that I wished that film-makers would look for fresh material instead of continuing to employ the equivalent of footnotes from Tolkien, which then would be fleshed out by script-writers who, at best, lacked JRRT’s narrative gifts, but who, at worst, would add their own non-Tolkien fantasies to the small amount of narrative provided by the original author.  One subject which I suggested was the Ramayana, an ancient Indian epic which, to me, has all the right qualities for life on the screen:  a complex antagonist—Ravana—(RAH—va-nah)

(Yes—he has ten heads)

and his demonic (literally) followers, the Rakshasas (RAK-sha-sas),

his noble (in fact divine) opponent, Rama,

and Rama’s allies, forest-creatures, led by Hanuman,

and Jambavan.

The story of the Ramayana, at base, is that of a struggle between gods and demons, in which Ravana, through observing austere religious practices for 10,000 years, has been given a gift by the high god, Brahma:  to be invulnerable to attacks by divine beings—but not (and this, as I know that you’ll know right away, will be his downfall) by humans or animals. 

This invulnerability leads to complaints from divine beings about the behavior of Ravana and his Rakshasas and, in turn, the god Vishnu

incarnates himself as the human prince, Rama, to deal with Ravana.

The story becomes more complicated when Rama seeks to marry Sita, the adopted daughter of Janaka, the king of Videha.

He wins her by competing in a contest which bears a strong resemblance to an event in another epic:  the stringing of the bow by Odysseus in the Odyssey.

(Andrew Wyeth)

In the Odyssey, Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, sets out Odysseus’ bow, saying to her obnoxious suitors that she will marry the man who can string the bow and fire an arrow through a series of axes. 

(Alan Lee)

Only Odysseus (disguised as an old beggar) can do so—and then he uses the bow to begin killing the suitors, who richly deserve it, have been abusing the house’ hospitality for years and are currently planning to kill Odysseus’ son and heir, Telemachos.

In the Ramayana, Rama actually breaks the bow and wins Sita anyway, but then there’s a new complication:   Kaikeyi, the third and favorite wife of Rama’s human father, Dasharatha, was once told by her husband that he would grant her one wish, whatever it might be.  Now, with the return of Rama, she collects, demanding that Rama be exiled to the Dandaka forest for 14 years.  Rama goes, accompanied by Sita and by one of his (half-)brothers, Lakshmana.

They have a number of adventures there, ending with the kidnapping of Sita by Ravana.

Someone has had the same idea as I about a film and here it is–

It’s, in fact, in two parts, and, if what I’ve read is correct, the first part (which will appear this November) ends with that kidnapping.  That part, then, must include Ravana’s gaining power from Brahma’s gift, his behavior believing that he’s impervious to attack, the birth and childhood of Rama, his courtship of Sita, his banishment, and the adventures in the forest.  From the previews I’ve seen, it appears that there will be more about Ravana, but the previews are brief and totally visual (and quite spectacular), so it’s unclear what may be done there.  (You can see one of several previews here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axuz33JfkXQ )

In the second part (due in November, 2027), I’m assuming that we’ll see Rama gathering his forest-creature allies,

meeting Hanuman,

Hanuman’s leap across the strait to Ravana’s city of Lanka to see the captive Sita,

the building of the causeway to allow Rama’s forces to attack Lanka,

the battle at Lanka and the death of Ravana,

and perhaps it will go on to the sad later part of the story, where Sita’s fidelity to Rama is questioned and she is forced to undergo an ordeal to prove that fidelity.

I myself am only a beginner when it comes to the great epics of India, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, and the complex mythological worlds in which they stand, but, if you’d like to make a beginning, what is said to be the most faithful and scholarly translation of the latter is this—

which is, in fact, the digest of this—

but, if you’d like to start smaller, there is a good children’s version—

which will get you started.

As always, with big, very expensive films like this, there is a certain amount of hype—as well as criticism based upon the trailers—but I, for one, am very much looking forward to this, not only for itself, but because it actually grants my wish for something fresh in the world of filmed epic.

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Think about what one wish which you would like granted,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

PS

The wiki- site will give you a useful beginning:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramayana

Solution (2)

19 Wednesday Aug 2026

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As ever, dear readers, welcome.

In my next-to-last, we were given two riddles:  one, in a dream sent to Faramir and Boromir, the other posed by Bilbo, both appearing in the council of Elrond—

“Seek for the Sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur’s Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.” 

The second is presented by Bilbo:

“All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken:

The crownless again shall be king.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 2, “The Council of Elrond”)

As Aragorn displays the sword—originally belonging to Elendil, the founder of Gondor—and Frodo, the Halfling, at Gandalf’s bidding, brings out the Ring (Isildur’s Bane), we might think that both riddles have been solved—but Boromir, for one, has doubts:

“ ‘Isildur’s Bane is found, you say…I have seen a bright ring in the Halfling’s hand, but Isildur perished ere this age of the world began, they say.  How do the Wise know that this ring is his?  And how has it passed down the years, until it is brought hither by so strange a messenger?’ “

And there are greater doubts—as voiced by the Mouth of Sauron:

“ ‘Is there anyone in this rout [“mob”] to treat with me?…Or indeed the wit to understand me?  Not thou at least!’ he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn.  ‘It needs more to make a king than a piece of Elvish glass, or a rabble such as this.  Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following!’ “ (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 10, “The Black Gate Opens”)

(Douglas Beekman—for more on him and his work, see:  https://sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/beekman_doug )

How, beyond the broken sword

and his claim, can Aragorn prove that he is the wanderer, the light, the crownless?

The wanderer part is perhaps the easiest, because it’s self-evident:  Aragorn

(the Hildebrandts)

 is a ranger, one of those few survivors of the lost north kingdom of Arnor,

(Stephen Raw—you can learn a little more about him here:  https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Stephen_Raw )

of whom the narrator of The Lord of the Rings says:

“In those days no other Men had settled dwellings so far west, or within a hundred leagues of the Shire.  But in the wild lands beyond Bree there were mysterious wanderers.  The Bree-folk called them Rangers, and knew nothing of their origin…They roamed at will southwards, and eastwards even as far as the Misty Mountains; but they were few now and rarely seen.”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 9, “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony”)

For further proofs, I’m reminded of Stephen Sondheim’s wonderful musical Into the Woods, 1987,

in which two characters, the Baker and his Wife, to have a witch’s curse removed, must bring her:  “the cow as white as milk, the cape as red as blood, the hair as yellow as corn, and the slipper as pure as gold” and much of the plot concerns their journey in the Woods to try to obtain these things—just the sort of objects one might obtain on a quest.  (For more on quests, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quest )

In Aragorn’s case, although he’s not on a deliberate quest, one piece of his evidence is acquired as he and the Fellowship travel southwards:  the Palantir, inadvertently provided by Saruman.

(the Hildebrandts)

Pippin learns, to his unhappiness, that this isn’t something which one can casually pick up, but Aragorn, having used it, says to Gimli:

“I am the lawful master of the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it…”

and here we see JRRT, in a brilliant bit of plotting, adding the reforged sword to the Palantir:

“…but Sauron has not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil.  Now in the very hour of his great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the blade re-forged to him.”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 2, “The Passing of the Grey Company”)

So, now we have the shattered Sword and a display of Aragorn’s control of a Palantir, the next proof isn’t an object, but an event. 

Aragorn and his company follow the Paths of the Dead under the mountains, coming out at last to the Hill of Erech and its large, round, black stone.

(from Lotro-Wiki—where you can find more details:  https://lotro-wiki.com/wiki/The_Stone_of_Erech_(King’s_Gondor) and here:  https://lotro-wiki.com/wiki/Vandassar )

Behind them have come the “Oathbreakers”, men of long ago, who had pledged to help Isildur against Sauron, but then refused to join him.  In response, Isildur cursed them and they retreated to the hills and gradually faded, becoming uneasy spirits which troubled the land.   (For more, see:  https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Oathbreakers )  Aragorn has summoned them and here we see another proof:

“ ‘The hour is come at last.  Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come with me.  And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart for ever.  For I am Elessar, Isildur’s heir of Gondor.’ “  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 2, “The Passing of the Grey Company”)

(Ted Nasmith)

To this, we can add a skill.

In the battles before Minas Tirith, Faramir has been struck down—seemingly by both a Southron arrow and by a Nazgul’s Black Breath—

(Angus McBride)

and both Eowyn and Merry have suffered from their fight with the chief of the Nazgul.

(Ted Nasmith)

They are brought to the Houses of Healing and there Ioreth, “the eldest of the women who served in that house”, looking at Faramir, said:

“ ‘Alas!  If he should die.  Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say!  For it is said in the old lore:  The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.  And so the rightful king could ever be known.’ “

Using the herb athelas/kingsfoil, as well as some unspoken power, Aragorn restores all three, at which Ioreth says:

“ ‘King!  Did you hear that?  What did I say?  The hands of a healer, I said.’ “

(the Hildebrandts)

Her words spread:

“And soon the word had gone out from the House that the king was indeed come among them, and after the war he brought healing, and the news ran through the city.”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 8, “The Houses of Healing”)

And, finally, a sign.  The White Tree, symbol of Gondor—

“ ‘There in the courts of the King grew a white tree, from the seed of that tree which Isildur brought over the deep waters, and the seed of that tree came from Eressea, and before that out of the Uttermost West in the Day before days when the world was young.’ “  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 2, “The Council of Elrond”)

(artist?  So far, no luck in finding one, but I would be glad to credit someone for this impressive image.)

but now—

“A sweet fountain played there in the morning sun, and a sward of bright green lay about it, but in the midst, drooping over the pool, stood a dead tree, and the falling drops dripped sadly from its barren and broken branches back into the clear water.”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

(from Jackson’s film)

As this is the emblem of Gondor itself,

a replacement would certainly be a sign of renewal, which even after the defeat of Sauron seems doubtful to Aragorn:

“ ‘The tree in the Court of the Fountain is still withered and barren.  When shall I see a sign that it will ever be otherwise?’ “

Gandalf leads him to a place high on Mount Mindolluin and reveals to him:

“…a sapling tree no more than three foot high.  Already it had put forth young leaves long and shapely, dark above and silver beneath, and upon its slender crown it bore one small cluster of flowers whose petals shone like the sunlit snow.”

“Then Aragorn cried:  ‘Ye!  Utuvienyes! I have found it!  Lo!  Here is a scion of the Eldest of Trees!’  “

Gandalf is vague about its origins there, but says to Aragorn:

“ ‘Here it has lain hidden on the mountain, even as the race of Elendil lay hidden in the wastes of the North.’ “

Aragorn transplants it to the Court of the Fountain and sees its growth as a kind of prophecy—

“ ‘The sign has been given…’ “

On “the day before Midsummer”, the whole of the household of Elrond then appears at Minas Tirith, Elrond himself “bearing the sceptre of Annuminas”.  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 5, “The Steward and the King”)

In Appendix A, this object is explained:

“The sceptre was the chief mark of royalty in Numenor…and that was also so in Arnor, whose kings wore no crown, but bore a single white gem, the Elendilmir, Star of Elendil, bound on their brows with a silver fillet.”  (The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, “The North-kingdom and the Dunedain”)

(not the sceptre of Annuminas, described as a simple silver rod, but it will give you the idea)

Then—

“…the King welcomed his guests, and they alighted; and Elrond surrendered the sceptre…”

And here we have a final proof:  the shattered sword, the ranger, the Palantir, the healing hands, the White Tree, and now the sceptre of Numenor—just as the acquisition by the Baker and his Wife of  “the cow as white as milk, the cape as red as blood, the hair as yellow as corn, and the slipper as pure as gold” will allow them to break the curse, with the sceptre the confirmation that Aragorn is the rightful king is complete—although we should also add:

“And Aragorn the King Elessar wedded Arwen Undomiel in the City of the Kings upon the day of Midsummer, and the tale of their long waiting and labours was come to fulfillment.” 

(the Hildebrandts)

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

And remember, as always, that there’s

MTCIDC

O