Author Archives: Ollamh

Through a glass…

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Dear readers, as always, welcome.

When I was small, I was puzzled about this line:

“Now we see through a glass, darkly…”

which comes from the apostle, Paul’s, first letter to the Corinthians (Chapter 13, Verse 12).

I knew about glasses—I drank from them—

and I looked through them—

and all I could think of was that maybe the glass was dirty.

It was only as a grownup that I found out that “glass” was Jacobean shorthand (from the “King James Bible” of 1611) for “looking glass” as we can see in Jerome’s (c.342-420AD) Latin translation

“videmus nunc per speculum in enigmate”

of the Greek

“βλέπομεν γὰρ ἄρτι δι’ ἐσόπτρου ἐν αἰνίγματι,”

in which “speculum”, “mirror”, is his version of the Greek εἴσοπτρον (eisoptron), “mirror”. 

Here’s what the Jacobean translators might have thought of as a “glass”,

but Paul would have imagined something more like this—

which would have been made of highly-polished metal, commonly bronze, so it’s easier to imagine that “darkly”, if the metal became tarnished.

But that translation of “in enigmate” or the original ἐν αἰνίγματι, might make the mirror even darker, as it comes from αἴνιγμα, which means “riddle” and this isn’t surprising as I, at least, have always found mirrors a little odd—spooky, even—and I’m hardly alone in this—think of the wicked, vain queen in “Snow White”, with her magic mirror—

(from Disney’s 1937 “Snow White”)

or Alice’s adventures in a mirror world—

( You can read a first edition, with the original Tenniel illustrations here:    https://dn710100.ca.archive.org/0/items/throughlooking00carr/throughlooking00carr.pdf  )

or that moment in Chapter 2 of Dracula where Jonathan Harker, in Dracula’s castle, has an unnerving experience—

“I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count’s voice saying to me, “Good-morning.” I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count’s salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself.”  (You can read this—and the whole book—in a first edition here:  https://gutenberg.org/files/345/345-h/345-h.htm#chap02 )

So, what about another mirror, but one not made of bronze, or silvered metal behind glass, like more modern versions—but more like a miniature reflecting pool–

the mirror of Galadriel?

(Greg Hildebrandt)

I’ve written a little about this before  (see:   “Mirror, Mirror”, 9 December, 2015 ), but I’ve come back to this chapter with—I hope—further thoughts.  Why is it there at all?  One reason might be that, after their harrowing adventure in Moria, the Fellowship—and the readers—need a breather and, though they could continue on foot, having already come hundreds of miles that way, perhaps this is a way to vary their travels by adding water and that’s something  with which the elves can and do aid them —

“ ‘I see that you do not yet know what to do,’ said Celeborn.  ‘It is not my part to choose for you; but I will help you as I may.  There are some among you who can handle boats:  Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest River; and Boromir of Gondor; and Aragorn the traveller.’ “ (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 8, “Farewell to Lorien”)

I would add that Lorien, Galadriel’s home, although it seems to be a place of refuge for the Fellowship,is also clearly a place for testing—and not all of that testing appears friendly, at least at first, and the deepest test for the two most important for the fate of the Ring lies in that mirror.

The testing begins, however, when Galadriel says:

“But I will say this to you:  your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife.  Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.”

And then she continues:

“Yet hope remains while all the Company is true.”

And, having said this—

“And with that word she held them with her eyes, and in silence looked searchingly at each of them in turn.  None save Legolas and Aragorn could long endure her glance:  Sam quickly blushed and hung his head.”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 7, “The Mirror of Galadriel”)

Beyond her glance lies, we’re told, a kind of temptation—as Sam reveals:

“ ‘If you want to know, I felt as if I hadn’t got nothing on, and I didn’t like it.  She seemed to be looking inside me and asking me what I would do if she gave me the chance of flying back home to the Shire to a nice little hole with—with a bit of garden of my own.’ “

And, although almost none of the Fellowship reveals what he was offered, there was the same approach:

“All of them, it seemed, had fared alike:  each had felt that he was offered a choice between a shadow full of fear that lay ahead, and something that he greatly desired:  clear before his mind it lay, and to get it he had only to turn aside from the road and leave the Quest and the war against Sauron to others.”

Boromir’s experience might suggest that the test was even more revealing—and perhaps damning—than simply being allowed to leave the Quest, as Gimli says, “ ‘And it seemed to me, too…that my choice would remain secret and known only to myself.’ “  While Boromir explains:

“ ‘To me it seemed exceedingly strange…but almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give.  It need not be said that I refused to listen.  The Men of Minas Tirith are true to their word.’ “

the narrator reveals the potentially damning part—remembering what Boromir later tried to do:

“But what he thought that the Lady had offered him Boromir did not tell.”

Did she offer him the Ring?

And now we come to the second test, a more selective one, as only Frodo and Sam are involved.

(Alan Lee)

It’s interesting to see the mirrors I’ve already mentioned and how they function in their stories.  “Snow White’s” queen employs hers as a surveillance device, in which the mirror encloses an omniscient spy and not her own reflection.  Alice’s looking glass is a barrier to another world and the fact that it’s a mirror which she must climb through suggests that, as mirrors invert things, so the world which she enters will be reversed, or at least topsey-turvey—definitely like stepping into an enigma.  Jonathan Harker’s  is a simple traveler’s shaving mirror, but stands in the middle of a mystery:  Dracula seems at first like the customer Jonathan has traveled to Transylvania to meet, businesslike, but hospitable and yet, for a nobleman living in a castle, he appears to have no servants and the castle is nearly ruined.  And then:  he has no reflection—what is Dracula?

Galadriel’s mirror, although it can repeat an image—

“Sam climbed up on the foot of the pedestal and leaned over the basin.  The water looked hard and dark.  Stars were reflected in it.”

has other properties—and, interestingly, can be controlled, to some extent, by Galadriel:

“ ‘Many things I can command the Mirror to reveal…and to some I can show what they desire to see.’ “

This has an ambiguous ring to it:  does she mean that she can make the Mirror simply reflect what people want to see, rather than what really may be seen?  If so, this seems in line with her earlier temptation/testing.  She goes on, however:

“ ‘But the Mirror will also show things unbidden, and those are often stranger and more profitable than things which we wish to behold.’”

This would then suggest that the Mirror may also have a mind of its own, beyond her control—“things unbidden”—and yet perhaps more useful—“profitable”. 

She then continues:

“ ‘What you will see, if you leave the Mirror free to work, I cannot tell.  For it shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be.  But what it is that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell.’ “

We notice right away that third part:  “things that yet may be”—and this important for what happens next.  Sam looks in, sees a little of the future which we know will happen:  “Frodo with a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff…himself going along a dim passage, and climbing an endless winding stair”—we can imagine that this is the crossing of the mountains into Mordor.  But then Sam sees the Shire and what we know will be Saruman/Sharkey’s planned industrialization—and ruin—of the Shire, with its “tall red chimney nearby” and here Sam almost fails the test, panicking and shouting “I must go home!”

(Alan Lee)

Here, Galadriel intervenes, reminding Sam of something she has already told him and Frodo:

“ ‘Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet to come to pass.’”

To which she adds an important caution, echoing also her earlier warning:

“ ‘But I will say this to you:  your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife.  Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.  Yet hope remains while all the Company is true.’ ”

saying to Sam:

“ ‘Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent them.  The Mirror is dangerous as a guide to deeds.’ “

And, at this, Sam, though miserable, then passes the test:

“ ‘No, I’ll go home by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or not at all.’ “

Frodo’s visions include Gandalf (although he believes that it might be Saruman), then sees what looks to be Sauron’s attack on Minas Tirith, but then something which might be the ship which takes him and others from the Grey Havens towards Valinor (“…and into the mist a small ship passed away, twinkling with lights.”) before his visions are replaced with

“…a single Eye that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the Mirror.”

And it gets worse:

“The Mirror seemed to be growing hot and curls of steam were rising from the water.”

before Galadriel stops things by quietly saying, “Do not touch the water.”

With this interruption, however, the test, if, as it was for Sam, a test, is never completed, and so we don’t know if Frodo would have passed it.  But perhaps it is a warning:  should Frodo foolishly try to keep the Ring for himself, as he almost does before Gollum seizes it,

( Ted Nasmith)             

would he, unable to master it, be swallowed up into Sauron’s eye, or worse?

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Beware of breaking mirrors,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC,

O

Heffalumps?

31 Wednesday Dec 2025

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Welcome, as always, dear readers.

“And then, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice:

‘Piglet, I have decided something.’

‘What have you decided, Pooh?’

‘I have decided to catch a Heffalump.’ ” (Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter V, “In Which Piglet Meets a Heffalump”)

Winnie-the-Pooh has just turned 100,

the book’s birthday being in1926, but the Pooh himself first appeared on Christmas eve, 1925, in the The Evening News.

(For more Poohsiana, including the origins of the character, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winnie-the-Pooh )

Although it’s never defined, from the tone of the chapter, I’ve always imagined that a “heffalump” was, in fact, an elephant. 

(An elephant and a tradional mortal enemy.  This is from the 13th-century Harley MS 3244, in the British Library, which I found at a wonderful medieval site:  https://medievalbestiary.info/index.html  )

And that elephant reminded me—traditionally, elephants are supposed to have wonderful memories, after all–that I was going to continue my review of the anime The War of the Rohirrim, where, surprisingly, a heffalump—sorry—a mumak—that is, an elephant, appears.

But why? 

The West first encountered war elephants when Alexander, marching eastwards, came up against the forces of Poros, an Indian king.

(a Macedonian commemorative coin c.324-3222BC, depicting an elephant-borne Poros.  For more on Poros, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Porus  )

One of Alexander’s generals—and successors—Seleucus, c.358-281BC,

in a treaty with the Indian Mauryan kingdom, received 500 war elephants, which were then employed at the Battle of Ipsus, in 301BC,

during the wars which Alexander’s generals fought among themselves to define who would control various parts of Alexander’s empire.

Elephants could be seen as rather like tanks—large, mobile weapons to break enemy lines—

(Peter Dennis)

(Giuseppe Rava)

and would continue to be used in the West at least until the Romans defeated the last Macedonian king, Perseus, at the Battle of Pydna, in 168BC, but saw perhaps their most dramatic use in the wars of Carthage against Rome, particularly in the second war, where the Carthaginian general, Hannibal, invaded Italy by crossing the Alps, bringing a number of elephants with him.

(Angus McBride)

Unfortunately for Hannibal—and his elephants—the Romans had learned to deal with the great beasts and even to turn them back against their owners—

(Peter Dennis)

(for more on war elephants, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_elephant )

Another factor in warfare was the belief that horses are frightened of elephants,

(Giuseppe Rava)

something which even Tolkien mentions—

“But wherever the mumakil came there the horses would not go, but blenched and swerved away…” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 6, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields”)

(For more on horses’ potential hippophobia, see:  https://iere.org/are-horses-scared-of-elephants/  )

But that is in relation to the allies of Mordor in its attack on Minas Tirith:  why is there one of these monsters prominent at the Dunlendings’ attack on Edoras, some 250 years earlier? 

The film’s script-writers seem to be depending upon this passage from Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings:

“Four years later ([TA2758) great troubles came to Rohan, and no help could be sent from Gondor, for three fleets of the Corsairs attacked it and there was war on all its coasts.  At the same time Rohan was again invaded from the East, and the Dunlendings seeing their chance came over the Isen and down from Isengard.  It was soon known that Wulf was their leader.  They were in great force, for they were joined by Enemies of Gondor that landed in the mouths of Lefnui and Isen.”   (Appendix II:  The House of Eorl)

Thank goodness for a map—as, although I know the Isen from Isengard, I had no idea where the Lefnui was—and here, from the Tolkien Gateway, you can see both.  And you can also wonder about how such forces got to Rohan, about which JRRT is completely silent, particularly those who landed at the mouth of the Lefnui, as, straight ahead of them would have been miles of the White Mountains.  Long detour north, then east, through the Gap of Rohan, then southeast into Rohan itself?  

(from the Encyclopedia of Arda)

To which they might add:

“In the days of Beren, the nineteenth Steward, an even greater peril came upon Gondor.  Three great fleets, long prepared, came up from Umbar and the Harad, and assailed the coasts of Gondor in great force;  and the enemy made many landings, even as far north as the mouth of the Isen.  At the same time the Rohirrim were assailed from the west and the east, and their land was overrun, and they were driven into the dales of the White Mountains.” (Appendix A, (iv) Gondor and the Heirs of Anarion; The Stewards)

You can see where this argument might go:  Wulf—the antagonist of The War of the Rohirrim—invades Rohan.  His invasion force includes “…Enemies of Gondor that landed at the mouths of Lefnui and Isen” and those enemies, who were part of the fleet which attacked the west coast of Gondor, “…came up from Umbar and the Harad”, and we’re told in The Lord of the Rings that “…the Mumak of Harad was indeed a beast of vast bulk…” (The Two Towers, Book Four, Chapter 4, “Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit”).

(Ted Nasmith)

So, their reasoning goes:

1. some of the Corsairs were from Harad

2. Harad is where Mumakil come from

3. some of the invasion force which followed Wulf were from the Corsairs who attacked the west coast of Gondor and therefore were from Harad

4. and thus there was the possibility that they might have brought Mumakil with them

Back in 2024, I had written a posting (“Dos Mackaneeks”, 26 June, 2024—here:  https://doubtfulsea.com/2024/06/26/dos-mackaneeks/ ) in which, while discussing “The Phantom Menace”, I had followed this reasoning:  both Saruman and Sauron clearly have access to blasting material of some sort–Saruman’s forces blow a hole in the wall of Helm’s Deep and Sauron’s do the same with the Causeway Forts on their way into the Pelennor.  And so, why would the next step not have been arming their orc armies with early “hand gonnes”?

(Angus McBride)

The answer is, they didn’t:  because the author chose for them not to, even though he provided evidence that he could have.  It’s clear that Tolkien was a very deliberate writer, taking years to construct his texts in draft after draft.  And so, had he wanted to have Wulf’s forces include Mumakil, I would suggest that, as he chose to depict them both ambushed by Faramir’s rangers and forming part of the armies which attacked Minas Tirith, they were certainly a possibility at any other point in his long story, but they don’t appear there.

At base, the real problem here, as I and others have suggested, is the extreme thinness of the material upon which The War of the Rohirrim is based:  it’s really only a little over two pages in Appendix A in my 50th Anniversary edition (1065-67).  To flesh this out into a film more than 2 hours long, the script writers created a character named “Hera” out of the nearly-anonymous “Helm’s daughter”, making her a “shield maiden”, adding a nurse for her (“Olwyn”), and a kind of page (“Lief”), as well as constructing a childhood friendship for “Hera” and Wulf, among other additions to a very small story, which is really only background to the later story of Helm’s Deep. 

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I dislike vicious reviews, mostly because, along with what they suggest about their authors, they’re usually simply not helpful, and I don’t write them.  This is my second partial review of The War of the Rohirrim (see “Plain and Grassy”, 24 September, 2025, for the first part:  https://doubtfulsea.com/2025/09/24/plain-and-grassy/ )  and, while I will continue to praise the enormous artistic effort which went into making this film—I’d love to see more anime of heroic stories—I wish someone would make an anime Beowulf, or Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight, just as easy examples—I also wish that the creators would move on—what about a Ramayana, for instance, if they wanted to choose a long-established story?—or, even better, create a completely new story, one in which there would be a fierce, independent heroine, rather than try to make her out of Arwen or Galadriel or invent one like “Tauriel” or “Hera”? 

In the meantime, it’s back to Pooh and Piglet, as they try to trap the illusive Heffalump (which they never succeed in doing).

(E.H. Shepard)

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Enjoy the New Year and may it be a very happy one for you,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

We Three Kings

24 Wednesday Dec 2025

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As always, dear readers, welcome.

If you aren’t familiar with it, the title of this posting comes from an 1857 Christmas carol, written by John Henry Hopkins, Jr, 1820-1891,

and beginning:

“We three kings of orient are;

Bearing gifts we traverse afar,

Field and fountain, moor and mountain,

Following yonder star.”

(For more on this carol see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We_Three_Kings   Carol, itself, is interesting, being a medieval dance/song combination, about which you can learn more here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carol_(music) )

 This carol, in turn, was ultimately inspired by this line from the Judeo/Christian Bible:

1 cum ergo natus esset Iesus in Bethleem Iudaeae in diebus Herodis regis ecce magi ab oriente venerunt Hierosolymam.

“1 When therefore Jesus had been born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi came to Jerusalem from the east.”  (Matthew 2,1—my translation from Jerome’s Latin Vulgate)

And we see here some confusion:  the song says “3 kings of orient” and the text upon which this is based definitely says “from the east” (“ab oriente”), but doesn’t give the number and also doesn’t say “kings” (“reges”), but “magi”, that is, priests

of the ancient Persian religion of Zoroastrianism, who were known for their interest in the stars.  (The figure is carrying a bunch of sacred twigs, called a “barsom”.  For more on this see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barsom  For more on “magi”, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblical_Magi  )

This confusion began early in Christian tradition, seeming to be involved with older Biblical prophecies, and, from this 3rd century AD sarcophagus lid, the number, at least, appears to have been established very early in that tradition—

(The inscription:  “Severa in Deo vivas” is a pious wish:  “Severa, may you live in God”, Severa being, presumably, the original occupant of the sarcophagus.)

Over time, this whole tradition became part of the Christian calendar, the 6th of January becoming a feast day called, in the West, “Epiphany” and, in some places, “Three Kings Day”, where the appearance of the three “magi/reges”, among other events, was celebrated.  (For more on this, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphany_(holiday) )

And this tradition, in turn, inspired the beginning of this 1971 fantasy novel, Krabat,

by Otfried Preussler, 1923-2013 –

(For more on Preussler, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otfried_Preu%C3%9Fler )

which opens with:

“It was between New Year’s Day and Twelfth Night [“Three Kings Day/Epiphany”}, and Krabat, who was fourteen at the time, had joined forces with two other Wendish beggar boys…the boys were going from village to village in the country around Hoyerswerda, dressed as the Three Kings from the East.  They wore straw crowns on top of their caps, and one of them, little Lobosch from Maukendorf, who was playing the part of the King of the Moors, blackened his face with soot every morning.  He walked proudly at the head of the little procession, bearing the Star of Bethlehem, which Krabat had nailed to a stick.”

I had come to this book by way of one of my favorite fantasy writers, Cornelia Funke, 1958- —

and, if you don’t know her work, I would recommend the book in this image as a good starting point—Inkheart (Tintenherz in the original German)

about a bookbinder, Mortimer, called “Mo” whose other talent is that he’s such a good reader that, when he does so, the characters from his reading become part of our world.  He and his daughter, Meggie, are then caught up in a plot by another character to use Mo’s talent—but I don’t want to do a spoiler here, so I’ll just say that it’s a wonderfully imaginative book and, in fact, part of a series—

There’s also a very good film adaptation–

(For more on Cornelia Funke, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornelia_Funke )

Otfried Preussler had begun his writing career some years before with children’s books like The Little Watersprite (Der Kleine Wassermann), 1956,

The Little Witch (Die Kleine Hexe), 1957,

and The Robber Hotzenplotz (Der Raeuber Hotzenplotz), 1962,

which employ folktale/fairy tale elements, and the latter two of which I’ve read.  They are very simple books, seemingly for younger children, but Krabat is a much darker, more complex, work, set in an area between Germany and Poland called Lusatia,

where the population can speak German or a Slavic language called “Wendish”, which is mentioned as being spoken in the novel (for more on Lusatia see:   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lusatia#Sources  and for Wendish, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wends  If you read this book—and I hope you do—a map, though not necessary, will come in handy, as regional places are often mentioned.). 

The hero, Krabat, whose name comes from “Croat”—that is, a person from Croatia—now the Republic of Croatia—a land on the edge of the Adriatic—was, it seems, originally, an actual person, Janko Sajatovic, a soldier (Croats were used for things like skirmishing), who became a folk hero—including being a sorcerer—in the region in which the novel is set.  (For more on Janko, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krabat )

In the novel, however, he is an orphan, a beggar, who finds himself apprenticed to a mysterious master who runs a mill,

but is, in fact, a wizard, who teaches mill skills, but, at the same time, instructs his apprentices in magic—and there is a terrible price.

Again, no spoiler—although, if you want one (not recommended—it will take the fun out of reading the book, which is full of mystery, the secrets of which being only gradually revealed), here it is:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krabat_(novel)

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

In Matthew 2, the magi bring presents for the baby Jesus—

“…et apertis thesauris suis obtulerunt ei munera aurum tus et murram.”

“…and, their treasures being opened, they offered him gifts:  gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

And, I hope that the magi, should they pass your house, leave you something you’ve always wanted,

(One of my favorite images of them, a 6th-century AD mosaic from the church of Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy—the mosaicists have given the magi Eastern clothing, as appropriate for those who come “ab oriente”)

And, as ever, know that there’s

MTCIDC

O

A Moon disfigured

17 Wednesday Dec 2025

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As always, dear readers, welcome.  And perhaps welcome to a little Tolkien puzzle.

On parade, soldiers of the early 20th century could be peacocks for finery.

But then they met the new technological reality of heavy machine guns

and increasingly heavy artillery

and, in time, even the danger of being spotted from the air,

so soldiers not only dug in,

but modified their uniforms, making themselves less visible.

(Gerry Embleton)

After the war, most armies, except for special guard units,

 never went back to being peacocks, abandoning a bright tradition which went back to the 17th century.

(Richard Hook)

Even in the 17th century, soldiers not wearing the same-colored clothing might distinguish themselves from their enemies by what would be called “field signs”, like wearing a strip of cloth on one arm, or sticking a particular piece of a plant or even a scrap of paper in your hatband.

(Henri IV, 1553-1610, king of France, was famous for the white plume he always wore in his hat.)

Before this, soldiers might wear the distinctive colors of their commanders (usually noblemen), called “livery”—

(Angus McBride)

Here we can see that Sir Edward Stanley has given this archer clothing in his colors of green and mustard-yellow, while the Earl of Surrey provided his soldiers with his colors of green and white.  You’ll also notice that the archer has some distinctive badges on the front of his coat—an eagle’s claw and crowns.  These are personal indicators of Sir Edward, heraldic markers to indicate to whom the archer belonged.

In the days before distinctive military dress, heraldry—the use of emblems to mark out one knight, and perhaps his followers, from another—had been developed to a high level.  When everyone was covered in metal,

such emblems were a way to identify a knight—and if he had issued similar emblems to his soldiers, a way to identify the troops he had brought and commanded at a battle.

As emblems developed, there also developed a person with a specialized skill to identify them—a herald.

He himself, as you can see, wore distinctive clothing, which also helped him in his other role as messenger between military opponents—he was considered as a neutral and could therefore pass freely.  (For more on heralds, see “Herald-ry in Middle-Earth”, 30 March, 2016 here:  https://doubtfulsea.com//?s=herald&search=Go )

Tolkien himself belonged to the age of drab—

(Here’s what that uniform would have looked like in color—although this is a much higher level officer—looks to be a major—JRRT was commissioned as a second lieutenant and eventually promoted to first lieutenant )

but was well aware of earlier flashiness and we can see it in his description of the guards at Denethor’s gate—even though he sees their outfits as a throwback, just like British soldiers ever returning to bright red uniforms—except for the monarch’s guards:

“The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helmets 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 from 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.  This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree had grown.”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

(from the Jackson films—as you can see, the helmet fits the description, but the surcoat has disappeared and, instead, the Tree, stars, and crown have been shifted to the breastplate, removing the dramatic contrast between the black cloth and white embroidered emblems which JRRT intended)

As well, although the orcs wear no livery—no uniforms or even part-colored clothing—they do have badges—the white hand of Saruman

(perhaps suggesting that he has his hand over everything?  I think of the “Armada Portrait” of Queen Elizabeth the First here—just look at the quiet statement in her hand)

and the red eye of Sauron,

(Angus McBride—perhaps implying that, like Big Brother, Sauron has his eye on you?)

but then there’s a new one, only mentioned once, which provided the title for this posting and the puzzle—

“Two liveries Sam noticed, one marked by the Red Eye, the other by a Moon disfigured with a ghastly face of death…” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 1, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol”)

What is JRRT up to here?  Minas Morgul,  the “Tower of Black Sorcery”, the center of this gateway into Mordor,

(Ted Nasmith)

had been built as Minas Ithil, “the Tower of the Moon” and it’s clear that those having that badge must come specifically from that place, and a mockery of its previous Gondorian name, which is interesting because the rest of Sauron’s forces appear to wear only the Red Eye.  Yet, if we can trust an orc, we may have the sense that Sauron doesn’t appreciate deviation, as Grishnakh asks rhetorically of Ugluk:

“They might ask where his strange ideas came from.  Did they come from Saruman, perhaps?  Who does he think he is, setting up on his own with his filthy white badges?  They might agree with me, with Grishnakh their trusted messenger; and I Grishnakh say this:  Saruman is a fool, and a dirty treacherous fool.  But the Great Eye is on him.”  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 3, “The Uruk-hai”)

So what’s going on here?  Certainly there’s rivalry between Saruman’s orcs and Sauron’s, but just how deep does orc rivalry go?  When Sam arrives at the Tower of Cirith Ungol, he finds it a battleground and, climbing into the tower itself he hears two orcs arguing, Shagrat, the captain of the Tower, and Snaga, one of his men.  Snaga says:

“You won’t be a captain long when They hear about all these goings-on.  I’ve fought for the Tower against those stinking Morgul-rats, but a nice mess you two precious captains have made of things, fighting over the swag.” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 1, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol”)

So, seeing that emblem on a shield, with “a Moon disfigured with a ghastly face of death”, just whose face is that?  And whose death?

As ever, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

If you were to come up with your own livery, what would it be?—sometimes knights made visual puns—like Sir Roger de Trumpington—

Think about that, pencil in hand, and remember that there’s always

MTCIDC

O

PS

For more on livery, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Livery

There has been some wonderfully imaginative work done on heraldry in Tolkien.  Here’s a link to get you started:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heraldry_of_Middle-earth   

On the Roads Again—Once More

10 Wednesday Dec 2025

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As always, dear readers, welcome.

“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.”

as Bilbo sings, on his way away from the Shire to Rivendell.

(JRRT)

We, however, are currently standing at the broken bridge

at Osgiliath,

(from The Encyclopedia of Arda)

but, through the magic of the internet, we’ll hop over the Anduin and continue our journey along the roads of Middle-earth, this time to the worst possible place (unless you’re an orc)—

(Alan Lee)

Mordor.

To get there, we walk the old road which, in the days before Sauron’s previous invasion attempt, ran from Minas Anor (the “ Tower of the Sun”—now Minas Tirith, “Tower of Guard”),

(Ted Nasmith)

to Minas Ithil (the “Tower of the Moon”)—now Minas Morgul  (the “Tower of Black Sorcery”).

(another Ted Nasmith)

This will lead us eastwards to the crossing of the Ithilien north/south road, where there is a much- abused seated figure—

“The brief glow fell upon a huge sitting figure, still and solemn as the great stone kings of Argonath.  The years had gnawed it, and violent hands had maimed it.  Its head was gone, and in its place was set in mockery a round rough-hewn stone, rudely painted  by savage hands in the likeness of a grinning face with one large red eye in the midst of its forehead.  Upon its knees and mighty chair, and all about the pedestal, were idle scrawls mixed with the foul symbols that the maggot-folk of Mordor used.”  (The Two Towers, Book Four, Chapter 7, “Journey to the Cross-roads”)

(and one more Ted Nasmith.  Notice—except for the figure’s size, perhaps, which here wouldn’t be called “huge” nor its chair “mighty”—how carefully the artist has paid attention to the text—typical of Nasmith’s always fine work.)

Frodo and Sam pause here, but we’ll keep moving eastwards on the road towards Minas Morgul.

(the Hildebrandts, with a very different view of it and of Gollum)

We don’t appear to have a description of this road, but, if you’ve read the previous postings on roads, you’ll know that I would like to imagine that it’s not just a worn dirt track,

but the sort of thing which the Romans built all over their empire,

but now grassgrown and abandoned, like the figure at the crossroads.

Frodo, Sam, and Gollum skirt Minas Morgul, climbing around it, and we’ll join them, although we’ll avoid the tunnel in which Shelob lives,

(and one more Ted Nasmith)

to come down into Mordor itself.

(Christopher Tolkien)

This is, to say the least, a very bleak place,

(in reality, this is Mt Haleakala National Park, on the island of Maui)

but it seems heavily populated with camps of orcs and Sauron’s allies.

“As far as their eyes could reach, along the skirts of the Morgai and away southward, there were camps, some of tents, some ordered like small towns.  One of the largest of these was right below them.  Barely a mile out into the plain it clustered like some huge nest of insects, with straight dreary streets of huts and long low drab buildings.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 2, “The Land of Shadow”)

(Alan Lee)

There are clearly roads, at least in the northern area—

(from the Encyclopedia of Arda)

and when Frodo and Sam disguise themselves as orcs,

(Denis Gordeev)

they make their way along a major one, only to be taken for potential deserters and driven into an orc marching column.

(Denis Gordeev)

Before they reach such a road, however,

“…they saw a beaten path that wound its way under the feet of the westward cliffs.  Had they known, they could have reached it quicker, for it was a track that left the main Morgul-road at the western bridge-end and went down by a long stair cut in the rock to the valley’s bottom.” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 2, “The Land of Shadow”)

We’ll follow them down this path and eventually reach a road:

“…at the point where it swung east towards the Isenmouthe  twenty miles away.  It was not a broad road, and it had no wall or parapet along the edge, and as it ran on the sheer drop from its brink became deeper and deeper.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 2, “The Land of Shadow”)

When Frodo and Sam are picked up and driven along in the column,

(John Howe)

we can now see that the column is headed for Isenmouthe and the entrance to the northernmost part of Mordor, Udun,

(from Karen Wynn Fonstad, The Atlas of Middle-Earth)

but the two manage to escape just before the entrance, dropping

“…over the further edge of the road.  It had a high kerb by which troop-leaders could guide themselves in black night or fog, and it was banked up some feet above the level of the open land.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 2, “The Land of  Shadow”)

(perhaps something like this on the right?)

Frodo and Sam now try cutting across open country, which, although full of places to hide, is hard going—

“As the light grew a little [Sam] saw to his surprise that what from a distance had seemed wide and featureless flats were in fact all broken and tumbled. “  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 3, “Mount Doom”)

The going, however, is simply too rough for them in their current condition, and they return to the road, as will we, approaching Orodruin (Mt. Doom), where, for the first time since finding a spring on the eastern slope of the Mountains of Shadow, they find water—

“All long ago would have been spent, if they had not dared to follow the orc-road.  For at long intervals on that highway cisterns had been built for the use of troops sent in haste through the waterless regions. 

In one Sam found some water left, stale, muddied by the orcs, but still sufficient for their desperate case.”   (The Return of King, Book Six, Chapter 3, “Mount Doom”)

Struggling to the foot of Mt. Doom (Orodruin), Sam discovers a path—our last road in this series of postings—which is actually part of Sauron’s road from the Barad-dur to the volcano.

(from the Encyclopedia of Arda)

“…for amid the rugged humps and shoulders above him he saw plainly a path or road.  It climbed like a rising girdle from the west and wound snakelike about the Mountain, until before it went round out of view it reached the foot of the cone on the eastern side.”  (The Return of King, Book Six, Chapter 3, “Mount Doom”)

Finally coming to the path, they find

“…that it was broad, paved with broken rubble and beaten ash” The Return of King, Book Six, Chapter 3, “Mount Doom”)

But, before the eagles come to rescue Frodo and Sam, we’ll take our own eagle back to the door where our roads began.

(the Hildebrandts)

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Remember how perilous it may be to step out your front door,

And remember, as well, that there’s always

MTCIDC

O

PS

For a bit more on the roads of Middle-earth, see:  https://thainsbook.minastirith.cz/roads.html

(Not) Crossing Bridges

03 Wednesday Dec 2025

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Welcome, dear readers, as always.

We’ve been traveling along the roads of Middle-earth in the last two postings, but we’ve taken a pause at Osgiliath,

(from the Encylopedia of Arda)

before our trip across the Anduin and beyond.

Frodo and Sam had crossed the Anduin by boat, much farther upstream,

(John Howe)

(Encyclopedia of Arda)

but the bridge here is broken—

and the real reason why it’s broken may lie, not in this Middle-earth, but in our own Middle-earth and far in the past, in the early history of Rome.

The earliest Italic settlers of the area had been farmers, who built communities on seven hills to the east of the Tiber River and farmed the land below.

To their north was an older civilization, the Etruscans,

who were, culturally, a more sophisticated people.

They were also a more powerful military people

(Giuseppe Rava)

and eventually took over Rome for about a century (616-509BC).

Their last ruler of the city, Tarquinius Superbus (“Tarquinius the Arrogant”), was ejected, however, in 509BC, but did not leave quietly, going to the Etruscan king, Lars Porsena, in another Etruscan town, Clusium (Etruscan “Clevsin”),

for help.  Porsena marched on Rome—

(Peter Connolly)

but, after this, ancient histories diverge—and so will we, as we pause once more at that bridge—the Pons Sublicius—the first bridge at the crossing of the Tiber.  As Lars Porsena moved against the city, the Roman militia came out to fight and were defeated.

Their only chance to save Rome, they believed, was to break down the bridge and three Romans, led by a lower-rank officer, Horatius, held back the Etruscans with two higher-rank officers while that was done.

Under Etruscan pressure, the other two began to retreat, but Horatius stood his ground, even though wounded more than once, until he had word that the bridge had been broken.  Upon that news, he turned, leaped into the Tiber, and swam to the other bank.

(Richard Hook)

At least one of our sources, Titus Livius (59BC-17AD), is doubtful about all of this, especially because Horatius was said to have done his swimming in full armor, but it fits into a regular story-pattern for Romans, in which a Roman suffers bravely—all for the sake of Rome.  A favorite in this pattern was the story of Regulus, a Roman official, who, being allowed by his Carthaginian captors to return to Rome to deal with terms for a prisoner exchange, spoke against it in Rome, then returned to his captors to meet an unpleasant end.  (For more on Regulus see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcus_Atilius_Regulus_(consul_267_BC) )

Long after Rome’s empire was history—and legends—Horatius’ story survived and, in Victorian England, had become a literary staple because of the poem “Horatius ”, the first chapter in Thomas Babington Macaulay’s  (1800-1859)

 Lays of Ancient Rome (1842).

This also became a schoolboy staple, a popular favorite for memorizing and reciting in a world and time in which public poetic recitation was common.  (Winston Churchill claimed that he had once won a school prize for doing so.  See:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horatius_Cocles  You can have your own copy of the first edition of Macaulay to recite from here:  https://archive.org/details/macaulaylaysofancientrome/page/n7/mode/2up  )

As a Victorian schoolboy, Tolkien

would have had a double exposure to this story, then:  first, in his copy of Livy’s history of Rome, Ab Urbe Condita, and then in Macaulay—which is why, rereading this passage, in which Boromir details Gondor’s rearguard action against Mordor, I saw what may have been the ultimate source for Tolkien’s bridge:

“ ‘Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath.

I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us.  Four only were saved by swimming:  my brother and myself and two others.’ “ (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 2, “The Council of Elrond”)

Thanks, as ever, for reading.  Next posting:  the third and last part of the little series on Middle-earth roads, where we’ll leap over the Anduin and move east.

Stay well,

Building bridges is always better than breaking them–just ask a Roman,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

On the Road(s) Again—Again

26 Wednesday Nov 2025

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Welcome, dear readers, as always.

“While in the merry month of May, from me home I started
Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother

Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins
Bought a pair of brogues rattling o’er the bogs
And fright’ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin”

Another road song—this time an Irish one—and we’ll be continuing, in this posting, to follow the roads of Middle-earth, rocky and otherwise.

(This is a very catchy song and you can read the whole lyric here:  https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/dubliners/rockyroadtodublin.html   (although you’ll notice a couple of small discrepancies between the written lyric and the sung one) before you listen to Liam Clancy and Tommy Makem performing it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb2Xw424W0M&list=RDVb2Xw424W0M&start_radio=1  For something about the history of the song, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocky_Road_to_Dublin )

We had stopped our exploration at the ruined bridge at Tharbad—

(the so-called Ponte Rotto (“Ruined Bridge”) in Rome—actually the Pons Aemilius—here’s a very interesting article about it and other bridges in Rome:   https://www.througheternity.com/en/blog/hidden-sights/rome-most-beautiful-historic-bridges.html  )    

Tharbad had once been a Numenorean city, with an impressive bridge which spanned the River Gwathlo (“Greyflood”), but

“A considerable garrison of soldiers, mariners and engineers had been kept there until the seventeenth century of the Third Age.  But from then onwards the region fell quickly into decay; and long before the time of The Lord of the Rings had gone back into wild fenlands.  When Boromir made his great journey from Gondor to Rivendell…the North-South Road no longer existed except for the crumbling remains of the causeways, by which a hazardous approach to Tharbad might be achieved, only to find ruins on dwindling mounds, and a dangerous ford formed by the ruins of the bridge…” (JRRT/Christopher Tolkien, Unfinished Tales, 277)

I wonder whether, when thinking of ruins, Tolkien had in mind the towns of southern Belgium destroyed by German shelling in the Great War, such as Ypres, which he would have walked through in 1916–

The road south from Tharbad, then, we can presume, was more like the Greenway farther north—grassgrown and abandoned.

Using our map, we can see that the old road traveled through the Gap of Rohan,

(both this and the map above are derived, ultimately, from the Tolkiens’ map, but I haven’t seen this credited to anyone)

with Isengard off to its left,

(the Hildebrandts)

and, farther on, Helm’s Deep to its right,

(JRRT)

although I doubt that either was visible from the road, Isengard in particular being up the valley of the Isen.

JRRT has left us a useful description of the Fords of the Isen—

“There the river was broad and shallow, passing in two arms about a large eyot [from Old English, igeoth, “small island”], over a stony shelf covered with stones and pebbles brought down from the north.”  (Unfinished Tales, 372—there is a long and detailed account here, 372-390, including the heroic death of Theodred, son of Theoden.  This fills in the period when members of the Fellowship come to the defense of Helm’s Deep and Gandalf is abroad, looking for aid, while Merry and Pippin are rallying the Ents.)

Down from Helm’s Deep would also be Edoras,

(Alan Lee—notice, by the way, that the usual image of the wall of Edoras isn’t the spindly palisade shown in the films, but a solid stone wall, of the sort JRRT must have meant when he wrote:  “Following the winding way up the green shoulders of the hills, they came at last to the wide wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras.”  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

and the road to Gondor and Minas Tirith.

(Ted Nasmith)

But we should pause here—as a hidden road will appear to our right—indicated to the Rohirrim in their ride south to the rescue of Minas Tirith by Ghan Buri Ghan, chief of the Woses (aka Wild Men—descendants  of pre-Numorean settlers of Gondor).

(Hildebrandts)

(This is taken from a large and elegant map which you can see here:  https://i.pinimg.com/originals/70/bc/b6/70bcb6ccc3a0ed5068d6ce15fb5a09a4.jpg )

As he describes it:

“ ‘Road is forgotten, but not by Wild Men.  Over hill and behind hill it lies under grass and tree, there behind Rimmon and down to Din, and back at the end to Horse-men’s road…Way is wide for four horses in Stonewain Valley yonder…but narrow at beginning and at end.  Wild Man could walk from here to Din between sunrise and noon.’ ”  (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 5, “The Ride of the Rohirrim”)

And the narrator continues:

“It was late in the afternoon when the leaders came to wide grey thickets stretching beyond the eastward side of Amon Din, and masking a great gap in the line of hills that from Nardol to Din ran east and west.  Through the gap the forgotten wain-road long ago had run down, back into the main horse-way from the City through Anorien; but now for many lives of men trees had had their way with it, and it had vanished, broken and buried under the leaves of uncounted years.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 5, “The Ride of the Rohirrim”)

A “wain” is a wagon

(This is the center of John Constable’s “The Hay Wain”, 1824, but it can give you an idea of what JRRT had in mind—picture this loaded with building stone instead of hay.)

and it’s clear that what we’re seeing here is an old quarry road, which led from stone quarries down to Minas Tirith, to build its walls.

But, speaking of walls, we’re about to come up against one:  the Rammas Echor, or great circuit of wall that surrounded the Pelennor:

(from the Encyclopedia of Arda site)

“Many tall men heavily cloaked stood beside him, and behind them in the mist loomed a wall of stone.  Partly ruinous it seemed, but already before the night was passed the sound of hurried labour could be heard.”

As you can see from the map, this was a very long wall (“For ten leagues or more it ran from the mountains’ feet and so back again…” —   a standard for a league is about 3 miles, so the wall is about 30 miles—about 48km–long) , and I’ve always imagined it as looking rather like Hadrian’s Wall in northern England, some 80+ miles long (about 129km), as it appeared when finished.

There were larger gates in the area called the Causeway Forts, but there were clearly single, smaller gates as in the image above, as the text tells us:  “…and the men made way for Shadowfax, and he passed through a narrow gate in the wall.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

I suppose that we could circle around the wall, and then we’d have to get onto the causeway—that’s a kind of elevated road—

(This is the stone causeway leading to St.Michael’s Mount, in Cornwall, southwest England, with the tide coming in—or going out.  You can read about St.Michael’s Mount here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Michael%27s_Mount )

which leads to the ruined city of Osgiliath

where, alas, the bridges are broken (“And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken down and all the landings held now by the Enemy?”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 8, “Farewell to Lorien “)

(Norris Rahming, 1886-1959)

and where we’ll stop for today, but pause at the site of one of those bridges in our next.

As ever, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

In James Joyce’s Ulysses, one of the main characters, Stephen Dedalus, calls a pier

a “disappointed bridge”—would you agree?

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

On the Road(s) Again

19 Wednesday Nov 2025

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“Just can’t wait to get on the road again
The life I love is makin’ music with my friends
And I can’t wait to get on the road again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again”

As always, welcome, dear readers.  This is from a Willie Nelson, a US country and western singer’s,

virtual theme song, and it seemed to fit where this posting wanted to go.

Having just written two postings about traveling to Bree, it struck me just how many Western adventure stories, as a main element of the plot, require the characters to travel, often long distances.  (I’m sure that there are lots of Eastern stories which do this, too—see, for example, Wu Cheng’en’s (attributed) Journey to the West, which appeared in the 16th century—see, for more:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journey_to_the_West  You can read an abridged translation  of this at:  https://www.fadedpage.com/books/20230303/html.php ) 

Such adventures are commonly quests—that is, journeys with a particular goal and are commonly round- trip adventures.  (For more on quests, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quest )

There are lots of folktales with this pattern, but the literary begins for us with the story of Jason, and his task of finding the Golden Fleece and bringing it back to Greece.  (You can read a summary of the story here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Fleece  The full Greek version we have of the story is from a 3rd century BC poem, the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes, which you can read in a translation here:  https://archive.org/details/apolloniusrhodiu00apol   And you can read about the poem itself here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argonautica  )

(Jason delivering the fleece to King Pelias—for more on Pelias, who is actually Jason’s uncle, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pelias )

Then there’s the Odyssey, a later story, in mythological time, in which the main plot is that of Odysseus, a Greek and ruler of the island of Ithaka, who, having participated in the war against Troy, spends 9+ years of many adventures getting home to his island once more.

It’s no wonder, then, that Tolkien, originally destined to be a classicist, in telling a long story to his children, would make it a quest.

This quest would take the protagonist, Bilbo Baggins, from his home in the Shire hundreds of miles east, to the Lonely Mountain (Erebor) and back.

(Pauline Baynes—probably JRRT’s favorite illustrator—and whom he recommended to CS Lewis, for whom she illustrated all the Narnia books.  You can read about her here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pauline_Baynes )

In the last two postings, we first followed Bilbo eastwards to Bree—only to find that, in The Hobbit, there is no Bree.  We then retraced our steps and followed Frodo and his friends as they journeyed in the same direction, although this time with more success.

(Ted Nasmith)

Part of Frodo’s trip (with some detours), took him along the Great East Road, which ran through the Shire,

(Christopher Tolkien)

crossing the Greenway ( the old north/south road—more about this in a moment) at Bree and proceeding eastwards from there–

(Barbara Strachey, The Journeys of Frodo, 1981)

although Frodo and his friends, led by Strider,

(the Hildebrandts)

took an alternate route from there to Weathertop.

Because I’m always interested in the physical world of Middle-earth, I try to imagine what, in our Middle-earth, either suggested things to JRRT, or at least what we can use to try to reconstruct something comparable. 

For the Great East Road, because it was constructed by the kings of Arnor, and had a major bridge (the Bridge of Strongbows—that is, strong arches), across the Brandywine,

(actually a 16thcentury Ottoman bridge near the village of Balgarene in Bulgaria.  For more on Bulgarian bridges, some of which are quite spectacular, see:  https://vagabond.bg/bulgarias-wondrous-bridges-3120 )

I had imagined something like a Roman road, wide, paved, with perhaps drainage on both sides.

The Romans were serious engineers and roads could be very methodically laid out and built.

Latest research suggests that they may have constructed as many as almost 200,000 miles of roads (299,171km)—not all so elaborate, and some were doubtless improved local roads, but a vast number (see for more:  https://www.sciencealert.com/massive-new-map-reveals-300000-km-of-ancient-roman-roads ) were of the standard construction.

This may have been true once, but the road Frodo and his friends eventually reach doesn’t sound much like surviving Roman work—

“…the Road, now dim as evening drew on, wound away below them.  At this point it ran nearly from South-west to North-east, and on their right it fell quickly down into a wide hollow.  It was rutted and bore many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes full of water.”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 8, “Fog on the Barrow-downs”)

Following the road, however, has made me consider just how many miles of roads we actually see in Middle-earth and over which various characters travel and how they might appear.  Just look at a map—

(cartographer? clearly based on JRRT and Christopher Tolkien’s map)

The Great East Road (named “East-West Road” there) is drawn and identified, and we can see the North Road (as “North-South Road”), but these are hardly the only roads in Middle-earth and certainly not in the story, and, as we’re following Frodo & Co. on their journeys, I thought that it would be interesting to examine some of the others—the main ones, and one nearly-lost one.

So, when Frodo and his friends eventually reach the edge of Bree, they’re actually at a crossroads—

“For Bree stood at the old meeting of ways:  another ancient road crossed the East Road just outside the dike at the western end of the village, and in former days Men and other folk of various sorts had traveled much on it.  ‘Strange as News from Bree’ was still a saying in the Eastfarthing, descending from those days, when news from North, South, and East could be heard in the inn, and when the Shire-hobbits used to go more to hear it.”

With the fall of the northern realm of Arnor about TA1974, however, things had changed:

“But the Northern Lands had long been desolate, and the North Road was now seldom used:  it was grass-grown, and the Bree-folk called it the Greenway.”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 9, “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony”)

We’re not given a detailed description of this road—was it like what I had imagined the Great East Road might have looked like, Roman and paved, but overgown?

If so, it led back to the city of Tharbad to the south, which had had its own elaborate bridge at the River Greyflood—

“…where the old North Road crossed the river by a ruined town.”

Of this bridge we know:

“…both kingdoms [Arnor and Gondor] together built and maintained the Bridge of Tharbad and the long causeways that carried the road to it on either of the Gwathlo [Greyflood]…”  (JRRT Unfinished Tales, 277)

It must have been massive—could it have looked something like this?

(the 1ST century Roman bridge at Merida, Spain—you can read about it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puente_Romano,_M%C3%A9rida )

As we also know, it had fallen into ruin, becoming only a dangerous ford, as Boromir found out, losing his horse there on the way north (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 8, “Farewell to Lorien”)

(the “Ponte Rotto” (“ruined bridge”) actually the 2nd century BC Pons Aemilius.  You can read about it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pons_Aemilius  This is a 1690 painting by Caspar van Wittel, a very interesting and talented man, and you can read about him here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caspar_van_Wittel   )

We’ll pause here, however, waiting, perhaps, for a drought,

before we continue down the road towards Gondor…

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

Don’t cross any bridge till you come to it,

And remember that there’s always

MTCIDC

O

To Bree (Part 2)

12 Wednesday Nov 2025

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As always, welcome, dear readers.

In “To Bree (Part 1)”, we had followed Bilbo & Co.

(Hildebrandts)

(Hildebrandts)

eastwards,

but only as far as Bree, echoing the remark in The Lord of the Rings:

“It was not yet forgotten that there had been a time when there was much coming and going between the Shire and Bree.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 9, “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony”)

Oddly, however, although I supposed that we were traveling through the East Farthing

(Christopher Tolkien)

through Frogmorton and Whitfurrows,

to the Bridge of Strongbows,

(Stirling Bridge, actually—for more see:  https://www.historicenvironment.scot/visit-a-place/places/stirling-old-bridge/ )

the description in The Hobbit was wildly different:

“Then they came to lands where people spoke strangely, and sang songs Bilbo had never heard before.  Now they had gone on far into the Lone-lands, where there were no people left, no inns, and the roads grew steadily worse.  Not far ahead were dreary hills, rising higher and higher, dark with trees.  On some of them were old castles with an evil look, as if they had been built by wicked people.”  (The Hobbit, Chapter 2, “Roast Mutton”) 

with, eventually, a surprise for us Bree-bound folk:  no Bree.

So, back we went to the Green Dragon, in Bywater, where Bilbo started and now we begin again, with Frodo.  Times have changed, however, and unlike the innocent Bilbo, we are in a different world, where Mordor isn’t just a distant place name and its servants are looking for Baggins.

(Denis Gordeev)

Frodo doesn’t take the Great East Road,

(Christopher Tolkien)

but cuts across country, narrowly avoiding one of the searchers,

(Angus McBride)

taking shelter with a local farmer, and finally reaching the ferry across the Brandywine just ahead of his pursuers.

Although this is a very indirect route, Frodo and his companions eventually reach Bree, but even though I would love to meet Tom Bombadil,

(the Hildebrandts)

I prefer a direct route, so we’ll continue on the Great East Road, cross the Bridge of Strongbows, and head eastwards. 

(from Barbara Strachey, The Journeys of Frodo, a much-recommended book, if you don’t have a copy)

So what do we see?  

Over the bridge—and here’s another possibility for it, the Clopton Bridge at Stratford-upon-Avon—

(you can see more of Stratford and the shire—Warwickshire, that is—here:  https://www.ourwarwickshire.org.uk/content/catalogue_wow/stratford-upon-avon-clopton-bridge-2 )

the road runs, not surprisingly, due eastwards and here, consulting our map,

 is the Old Forest to our right,

described, by our narrator, as Frodo and his friends see it on their detour away from the Great East Road:

“Looking ahead they could see only tree-trunks of innumerable sizes and shapes:  straight or bent, twisted, leaning, squat or slender, smooth or gnarled and branched; and all the stems were green or grey with moss and slimy, shaggy growths.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 6, “The Old Forest”)

Keep in mind, however, that we’re seeing it through a long line of trees planted alongside the road, probably as a windbreak.

We know that they’re there because Merry says:

“ ‘That is a line of trees,’ said Merry, ‘and that must mark the Road.  All along it for many leagues east of the Bridge there are trees growing.  Some say they were planted in the old days.’ “ (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 8, “Fog on the Barrow-downs”)

As we travel farther along the road, if we look to our right, through the trees, we then come to the edge of the Barrow-downs,

with their ancient standing stones

and tumuli—

where Frodo and his friends almost end their trip.

(Matthew Stewart)

But we haven’t strayed, as they did, and, passing the Downs, we see, again on our right:

“The dark line they had seen was not a line of trees but a line of bushes growing on the edge of a deep dike, with a steep wall on the further side.”

A dike is a ditch, usually with an earthen embankment made from the spoil of the ditch.  There are several of these in England, like Offa’s Dyke—

The narrator adds:

“…with a steep wall on the further side”

and I’m presuming that that is the earthen embankment, with:

“…a gap in the wall” through which Frodo and friends rode and

…when at last they saw a line of tall trees ahead…they knew that they had come back to the Road.”

If you’re read the first part of this posting, you will know that I’ve been assuming that that Road, laid in ancient times to a stone bridge and beyond, would be like a Roman road, and be paved,

if a bit weedy, but now we find:

“…the Road, now dim as evening drew on, wound away below them.  At this point it ran nearly from South-west to North-east, and on their right it fell quickly down into a wide hollow.  It was rutted and bore many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes full of water.”

Does this suggest that it was, at best and in the past, simply a dirt road, through well-kept?  Or is it a very run-down road, worn and covered over with leaves and dirt, the ancient blocks gradually becoming separated under the weight of centuries, allowing for pot-holes?

In any event, we now continue our journey with Frodo and his compantions until–

“…they saw lights twinkling some distance ahead.

Before them rose Bree-hill barring the way, a dark mass against misty stars; and under its western flank nestled a large village.  Towards it they [and we] now hurried desiring only to find a fire, and a door between them and the night.”

We’re not in Bree yet, however, as:

“The village of Bree had some hundred stone houses of the Big Folk, mostly above the Road, nestling on the hillside with windows looking west.  On that side, running in more than half a circle from the hill and back to it, there was a deep dike with a thick hedge on the inner side.  Over this the Road crossed by a causeway; but where it pierced the hedge it was barred by a great gate.  There was another gate in the southern corner where the Road ran out of the village.  The gates were closed at nightfall; but just inside them were small lodges for the gatekeepers.”  (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 9, “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony”)

We’ve seen a dike just now, at the Great East Road, but now we have to add a hedge

and a gate.

Once inside, however, lies the Prancing Pony

(Ted Nasmith)

and one more pint before bed.

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Read road signs carefully,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

To Bree (Part 1)

05 Wednesday Nov 2025

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Welcome, as always, dear readers.

For me, one of the great pleasures of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings is that they are both so wonderfully imagined.  Consider the beginning of The Hobbit, for example, where the opening could just have been the bare line “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” Instead, it continues:

“Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat:  it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”

(JRRT)

And even this is not enough, as it continues:

“It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.”

And it will go on for an entire paragraph beyond that sentence, listing rooms and even explaining why some are preferred.

Even with so much detail, I sometimes find myself wanting more—often more of the outside world.  In this posting, then, I thought that we might take a trip to Bree and spend some time sightseeing as we go.  Via the Great East Road, this is about 100 of our miles (160 km), according to the very useful website of Becky Burkheart (which you can visit here:  https://www.beckyburkheart.com/traveltimesinmiddleearth ).

Why Bree?  To quote The Lord of the Rings:

“It was not yet forgotten that there had been a time when there was much coming and going between the Shire and Bree.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 9, “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony”)

If we use both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings together, however, we’ll soon encounter some difficulties, as we shall see.

Our starting point for Bilbo is the Green Dragon Inn, in Bywater. 

(Christopher Tolkien)

Tolkien doesn’t describe the inn, but, using a real inn, we might imagine the Green Dragon as looking something like this–

(This is the White Lion in Barthomley, in Cheshire, built in 1614.  You can read more about it and about Barthomley here:   https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oeQEpGsXlN1A_4T8nOhUwpggDA_pEFTM/view )

Just to the south of Bywater is the spot where the Hobbiton road meets the Great East Road.  Again, Tolkien gives us no description, but there may be a hint as to this road in the original grant of the Shire by Argeleb II in TA1601:

“For it was in the one thousand six hundred and first year of the Third Age that the Fallohide brothers, Marcho and Blanco, set out from Bree; and having obtained permission from the high king at Fornost, they crossed the brown river Baranduin with a great following of Hobbits.  They passed over the Bridge of Strongbows, that had been built in the days of the power of the North Kingdom, and they took all the land beyond to dwell in, between the river and the Far Downs.  All that was demanded of them was that they should keep the Great Bridge in repair, and all other bridges and roads, speed the king’s messengers, and acknowledge his lordship.”   (The Lord of the Rings, Prologue I, “Concerning Hobbits”)

We’ll cross the bridge a little later in our journey, but we might start with the road.  That it’s sometimes called “the Great East Road” suggests that it’s more than a dirt path.

Could Tolkien have been thinking of the bits of surviving Roman road which crisscross England?  Most are now buried under modern roads, but, here and there some are still available on the surface, as here—

and perhaps we can use this as a model. As an ancient stone road, it would certainly fit in with the ancient stone Bridge, as we’ll see.

Just beyond the spot where the lesser road meets the greater, we see marked on our map, the “Three Farthing Stone”.  A “farthing” is a “four-thing”—that is, a quarter, and it marks the spot where three of the quarters, the four farthings, of the Shire meet.  This appears to be modeled on the “Four Shire Stone” in our Middle-earth

which you can read about here:  https://thirdeyetraveller.com/four-shire-stone-tolkien/ )

And, from here, we head eastwards—and meet our first difficulty.  Here’s the description in The Hobbit—

“At first they had passed through hobbit-lands, a wide respectable country inhabited by decent folk, with good roads, an inn or two, and now and then a dwarf or a farmer ambling by on business.”

That fits our Shire map:  we might be traveling through Frogmorton and Whitfurrows, villages which might look like this—

but then there’s—

“Then they came to lands where people spoke strangely, and sang songs Bilbo had never heard before.  Now they had gone on far into the Lone-lands, where there were no people left, no inns, and the roads grew steadily worse.  Not far ahead were dreary hills, rising higher and higher, dark with trees.  On some of them were old castles with an evil look, as if they had been built by wicked people.”  (The Hobbit, Chapter 2, “Roast Mutton”) 

The bridge is just ahead, but “dreary hills”?  “old castles”? 

And you can really see the difference here between the two books.  Tolkien had yet to discover much of the East Farthing and was simply penciling in something which we might think of as “travel filler”, to indicate that the expedition was riding eastwards, but the trip was already becoming more difficult.

And then we come to the (here unnamed) bridge:

“Fortunately the road went over an ancient stone bridge, for the river, swollen with the rains, came rushing down from the hills and mountains in the north.”

As this is the first bridge mentioned, I’m going to assume that this is the “Bridge of Strongbows/Great Bridge” mentioned in Argeleb II’s grant to the original hobbit settlers.

(This is the Roman Pont Julien in southeastern France—over a bit drier patch than described in the book.  For more on this ancient bridge, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pont_Julien )

Once over this bridge, we’re in a different world.  We reach another river:

“Then one of the ponies took fright at nothing and bolted.  He got into the river before they could catch him…” 

Then, attempting to camp in the rain, Bilbo and the dwarves spot a fire, go to it, and find trolls.

(JRRT)

With the trolls dealt with by Gandalf, we move on to Rivendell–

(JRRT)

and suddenly we realize that:   there’s no Bree!

It’s at the crossroads of the Great East Road and what the locals call “the Greenway”, the old north/south road, now long overgrown,

but, somehow, Bilbo and the dwarves have not encountered it.  The reason is clear, of course:  just as the Tolkien of The Hobbit had yet to discover the East Farthing, so, too, he had yet to discover Breeland.

So, it looks like we have to turn around, back to the Green Dragon, stop for a pint, as any hobbit would,

and try again—in “To Bree (Part 2”).

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

When approaching a crossroads, be prepared for anything—especially monsters with questions–

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O