Do You Speak Villain? (Part 3)

18 Wednesday Feb 2026

Tags

books, Fantasy, Gorbag, Grishnakh, lotr, Orcs, Saruman, Sauron, sergeant, sergeants, Shagrat, soldiers, speech, The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien, Ugluk

As always, welcome, dear readers.

In Parts 1 and 2 of this short series, I’ve looked at Tolkien’s use of speech to characterize—and bring to life—the antagonists of The Lord of the Rings, leaving out Sauron, as having little to say for himself, but observing Saruman,

(the Hildebrandts)

the chief of the Nazgul,

(the Hildebrandts)

and the Mouth of Sauron.

(Douglas Beekman)

I’ve been doing this as a descent down the social ladder and now we’ve reached the foot with the Orcs.

(Alan Lee)

JRRT had very complex thoughts and feelings about them, as his letters show us (see, for instance, some of his thoughts in his unfinished, unsent letter to Peter Hastings, September, 1954, Letters, 285 and 291) but then the Orcs themselves seem more complex than mere (in more modern terms) “cannon-fodder”—that is, a simple mass of undifferentiated infantry.

(Alan Lee)

Something which has always struck me about them is Tolkien’s choices for their speech. At one level, as I pointed out in “Tolkien Among the Indians”, (21 January, 2026), one of their leaders, Ugluk, can sound like a figure out of James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans—

“ ‘We are the fighting Uruk-hai! We slew the great warrior. We took the prisoners. We are the servants of Saruman the Wise, the White Hand: the Hand that gives us man’s-flesh to eat. We came out of Isengard, and led you here, and we shall lead you back by the way we choose. I am Ugluk. I have spoken.’ ”

On another level—but here I want to quote another of Tolkien’s letters, one often cited when referring to Sam Gamgee:

“My ‘Sam Gamgee’ is indeed, as you say, a reflexion of the English Soldier, of the privates and batmen [officers’ servants, not denizens of Gotham] I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.” (draft of a letter to H. Cotton Minchin, April, 1956, Letters, 358)

and obviously Tolkien knew what he intended, but I’ve always seen those “privates and batmen” as something more: as models for the Orcs—

and their commanders, Ugluk and Grishnakh—and later Shagrat and Gorbag—not as of the officer class, to which Tolkien belonged—

but as sergeants, the tough, experienced men who ran the infantry on a day-to-day basis.

Here they are, talking—

“ ‘Orders,’ said a third voice in a deep growl. ‘Kill all but NOT the Halflings; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible. That’s my orders.’

“ ‘What are they wanted for?’ asked several voices. ‘Why alive? Do they give good sport?’

‘No! I heard that one of them has got something, something that’s wanted for the War, some Elvish plot or other. Anyway they’ll both be questioned.’

‘Is that all you know? Why don’t we search them and find out? We might find something that we could use ourselves.’

‘That is a very interesting remark,’ sneered a voice, softer than the others but more evil. ‘I may have to report that. The prisoners are NOT to be searched or plundered: those are my orders.’

‘And mine too,’ said the deep voice. ‘Alive and as captured, no spoiling. That’s my orders.’ “

So far, those two main voices—the “deep growl” and the “softer…but more evil”–are just that: voices. And we can tell immediately that they, being the ones given orders and threatening to make reports, are in charge. Shortly, we’ll find that the deep voice belongs to ”a large black Orc, probably Ugluk” and the softer to Grishnakh, “a short, crook-legged creature, very broad and with long arms that hung almost to the ground.”

Why sergeants, not officers? It’s the tone, I think. When Grishnakh proposes taking the prisoners to the east bank of the Anduin, where a Nazgul is waiting, Ugluk replies

“ ‘Maybe, maybe! Then you’ll fly off with our prisoners, and get the pay and praise in Lugburz, and leave us to foot it as best we can through the Horse-country.’ “

“pay and praise” and “footing it” sound to me more like the language of soldiers than those of higher ranks, but there’s something more to their talk. Ugluk sneers at the Nazgul and Grishnakh replies:

“ ‘Nazgul, Nazgul,’ said Grishnakh, shivering and licking his lips, as if the word had a foul taste that he savoured painfully. ‘You speak of what is deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams, Ugluk.’ “

There is a fear in this that’s a little surprising: aren’t the Nazgul on the same side as Grishnakh, at least?

There is a rivalry between the two groups as well—and clearly even between their two masters, as Grishnakh reveals:

“ ‘You have spoken more than enough, Ugluk,’ sneered the evil voice. ‘I wonder how they would like it in Lugburz…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.’ “ (all of the text here is from The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 3, “The Uruk-hai”)

All of this shows a level of internal tension which would not bode well for an alliance between Sauron and Saruman and, when we reach Shagrat and Gorbag, later in the story, there’s even something more and we’ve already seen it in that “We might find something that we can use ourselves.”

So far, the speech of the two Orc leaders has suggested creatures who clearly don’t trust each other, and one is fearful of something on his own side, revealing, as well, that his master, Sauron, is less than impressed by Saruman and his efforts.

And now we find that such sergeants may not even trust their men, as when Shagrat says to Gorbag:

“ ‘…but they’ve got eyes and ears everywhere; some among my lot, as like as not.’ “

But why such wariness? First, because these Orcs are aware that knowledge of the progress of the war in which they’re a part is being kept from them, and it’s not good news:

“ ‘…they’re troubled about something. The Nazgul down below are, by your account; and Lugburz is too. Something nearly slipped…As I said, the Big Bosses, ay,’ his voice sank almost to a whisper, ‘ay, even the Biggest, can make mistakes. Something nearly slipped, you say. I say, something has slipped.’ “

And second because these Orcs, not trusting their masters and perhaps even fearful of them, may have plans of their own—

“ ‘What d’you say?—if we get a chance, you and me’ll slip off and set up somewhere on our own with a few trusty lads, somwhere where there’s good loot nice and handy, and no big bosses.’

‘Ah!’ said Shagrat. ‘Like old times!’ “ (The Two Towers, Book Four, Chapter 10, “The Choices of Master Samwise”)

As we’ll see, however, later in the story, Shagrat and Gorbag don’t even trust each other—

“Quick as a snake, Shagrat slipped aside, twisted round, and drove his knife into his enemy’s throat.

‘Got you, Gorbag!’ he cried. ‘Not quite dead, eh? Well, I’ll finish my job now.’ He sprang on to the fallen body, and stamped and trampled it in his fury, stooping now and again to stab and slash it with his knife.“ (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 1, “The Tower of Cirith Ungol”)

So much for “old times”! But a fitting ending for this posting. Here, on the lowest rung of the social ladder, we see how JRRT shows both the threat of the enemies’ soldiers and, at the same time, undercuts that threat, as we hear the Orcs doing everything from threatening each other, dissing their own leaders and those of their own side, mistrusting each other and their own men, and even plotting to desert and set up their own little kingdoms before cheerfully knifing each other. We might wonder—even if Sauron had won, how long would his empire have lasted, with such allies and underlings?

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

I guess that I don’t have to tell you now: watch your back,

And remember that there’s

MTCIDC

For more on Orcs and their language, see “Lingua Orca”, 16 April, 2025.

Do You Speak Villain? (2)

11 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

dialogue, Fantasy, lotr, Mouth of Sauron, Nazgul, Saruman, The Lord of the Rings, thou-vs-you, Tolkien, villain, Witch-King of Angmar

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

It is sometimes surprising to see how social class can influence vocabulary. For instance–

this is a Roman villa—

in Pompeii, where wealthy city people might live.

And this is a country villa—

(Billl Donohoe)

which, in its more elaborate form, might offer some of the comforts of a city dwelling, but would often also be a working farm and here are a couple

of Roman farm workers (probably slaves), each of whom, as someone attached to a villa, could be called a villanus—and I’m sure that you see where this is going: rural people could be uncultivated (no pun, there) and therefore crude and, by a snobbish leap of imagination from 12^th-century Old French to mid-16^th century English, people who could be expected to be involved in the worst antisocial behavior: crime. (For more on this, see: https://www.etymonline.com/word/villain )

In the previous posting, we began examining Tolkien’s villains in The Lord of the Rings, and how Tolkien, with his wonderful ear for language (and a great dramatic gift), used speech to depict their characters, as well as their behavior.

Since Sauron provides such a small sample of speech, we began with Saruman,

(the Hildebrandts)

who, as reported by Gandalf in Book One, could be by turns, sarcastic, conspiratorial, falsely chummy, and coldly imperious, all the while, though only at first obliquely, attempting to persuade Gandalf to reveal to him the location of The Ring and, in doing so, revealing to Gandalf not only his corrupt ambition, but also his lack of awareness of how much that corruption came from his communication with Mordor.

(the Hildebrandts)

In this posting, I want to continue that examination by extending it down the social scale of villains, beginning with the Nazgul, who, as former kings, might be thought of as next after Saruman.

(Mark Ferrari—new to me, but I like the energy of this and you can see more at: https://www.markferrari.com/image-archives )

On the whole, unlike Saruman, who gives away so much in his speech, they don’t have much to say for themselves, but their leader, the Witch-king of Angmar,

(Angus McBride)

has two bits of dialogue: first, when he encounters Gandalf at the broken gate of Minas Tirith,

(Ted Nasmith)

where he speaks briefly in a threat:

“ ‘Old fool!’ he said. ‘Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!’” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 4, “The Siege of Gondor”)

This only shows his (misplaced) contempt for Gandalf, but he addresses Gandalf as an equal in using “you”, rather than as an inferior, as when he confronts Eowyn:

“ ‘Come not between the Nazgul and his prey!’ “

The Witch-king is ancient—being from the Second Age of Middle-earth—and therefore we might expect his speech to sound archaic, even if here he uses the Common Speech of everyone else we see in The Lord of the Rings, and we see it here with this inverted construction. If it were a person from the present, we might expect “Don’t come” or perhaps “Don’t you come”, but “Come not” immediately suggests a speaker from an earlier time.

He continues:

“ ‘Or he will not slay thee in thy turn.’ “

And note here the archaic “thee” (the accusative/dative/ablative of “thou”), which serves a double purpose: on the one hand, suggesting the Witch-king’s great age and, on the other, this is how a superior would speak to an inferior (as in the case of the Romance languages—where French even has verbs for using “you” vs “thou”—vouvoyer vs tutoyer).

And continues:

“He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.’ “ (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 6, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields”)

The Witch-king persists in his use of “thou”, but then becomes what I feel is quite Biblical in “the houses of lamentation”—where is this place? My immediate thought was that it was the same place where Gollum was tortured (we get a hint of this in Gandalf’s long explanation in The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 2, “The Shadow of the Past”) and where the Mouth of Sauron suggests that Frodo was taken (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 10, “The Black Gate Opens”). As to its name, I was reminded of “The Book of Lamentations” in the Judeo-Christian Bible, a collection of laments over the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians in 587/6BC.

(James Tissot, 1836-1902—actually Jacques Joseph Tissot, a very interesting late-Victorian French artist who did much of his later work in England, where he—or his name, at least—became Anglicized. You can read about him and his art here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Tissot )

Sections of “Lamentations” are read during Lent, in Christian services, and we can assume that JRRT, as a practicing Catholic, was well aware of the book. (You can read more about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Lamentations )

Wherever the idea came from, the Witch-king continues it in an extremely graphic manner, repeating his use of “thou” to the end of his threat, at the same time.

We see this use of “thou” once more from another on that social scale, the Mouth of Sauron.

(Douglas Beekman—you can read a little more about him here: https://www.askart.com/bio/Doug_L_Beekman/122294/Doug_L_Beekman )

This is, again, an ancient figure, as we’re told that “…he was a renegade, who came of the race of those that are named the Black Numenoreans”—that is, followers of Sauron in the Second Age—and he begins as Saruman began, with contempt—

“ ‘Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?’ “

“Rout” is an archaic word for “rabble”, so the Mouth is already suggesting that, in comparison with him, there is no one of stature with whom he could speak. And he goes on—

“ ‘Or indeed with wit to understand me?’ “

He’s establishing his bargaining position here: he’s of higher social standing and smarter than anyone he faces and he continues, addressing Aragorn:

“ ‘It needs more to make a king than a piece of Elvish glass, or a rabble such as this, Why, another brigand of the hills can show as good a following!’ “

So far, then, the Mouth shows arrogance—but his next behavior shows that, underneath that arrogance is cowardice—

“Aragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other’s eye and held it, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir or move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menaced by a blow. ‘I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!’ he cried.”

(And this is where Jackson’s portrayal in the film version of the scene fails completely, as Aragorn then cuts him down, which no respectable king—or even knight—would do, as the Mouth is correct in that heralds and ambassadors, traditionally, could claim immunity.)

Gandalf reassures him, although he also cautions him that that immunity might not last forever, before the Mouth continues:

“ ‘So!’ said the Messenger. ‘Then thou art the spokesman, old grey-beard?’ “

This is insulting in several ways: first, that use of “thou”, as though to an inferior; second, as the Mouth clearly recognizes Aragorn, so he would recognize Gandalf, and calling him “old grey-beard” has the same effect as when the Witch-king earlier called him “old fool”.

He then indirectly admits that he does, indeed, recognize Gandalf:

“ ‘Have we not heard of thee at whiles, and of thy wanderings, ever hatching plots and mischief at a safe distance? But this time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf, and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great.’ “

Vocabulary is key here: “wanderings”, “hatching plots and mischief”, sticking out “thy nose”, “foolish webs”, all suggest denigration, keeping with the Mouth’s original address, which painted the Gondorians and their allies as a mob of bandits, with no legitimacy to address the Messenger of Sauron, or even the IQ to do so.

Pippin recognizing Frodo’s mithril coat gives the Mouth the chance to continue that denigration, calling Pippin “imp” and “brat” and calling the Shire “little rat-land”, before going on to name the conditions Sauron demands, both for the return of Frodo and for “peace” between him and the allies, conditions which are simply surrender in other terms.

So far, by his very language, the Mouth has attempted to dictate the scenario, using “we” as if it were Sauron himself speaking, attempting to suggest that Sauron is the master of the situation and that he, as Sauron’s spokesman, is in sole charge of the parley, but it’s interesting to see how he responds when spoken to in the same way by Gandalf, who has revealed his own power, pulling the mithril coat and others of Frodo’s possessions from the Mouth’s hands.

“ ‘…Get you gone, for your embassy is over and death is near to you. We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves. Begone!’ “

The Mouth’s reaction is the very opposite of his original self-depiction at the beginning of the parley: instead of mocking and presenting himself as above the level of those on the other side, he is literally speechless—and more than mute, being likened to a beast with no ability to communicate at all:

“Then the Messenger laughed no more. His face was twisted with amazement and anger to the likeness of some wild beast that, as it crouches on its prey, is smitten on the muzzle with a stinging rod. Rage filled him and his mouth slavered, and shapeless sounds of fury came strangling from his throat.” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 10, “The Black Gate Opens”)

So, the Mouth is dropped into the Animal Kingdom by Gandalf’s words (and notice that archaic “Get you gone!”—the archaism we hear from the Witch-king seems to be catching) and, in the third part of the posting, we’ll drop lower in the social scale, as well.

Stay well,

Imagine how useful “thou” and “thee” might be in English today,

And remember that, as ever, there’s

MTCIDC

PS I recently happened upon a very useful article on illustrating Tolkien which I want to pass on to you here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illustrating_Middle-earth I love looking at all of the different ways in which artists, all the way back to the 1960s, imagine Tolkien’s work.

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 1)

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Fantasy, Gandalf, lotr, rhetoric, Saruman, Sauron, speaking villain, The Lord of the Rings, The Ring, Tolkien

As ever, welcome, dear readers.

How do antagonists talk?

If you do a quick search of the internet for discussion on creating villains, you can be almost overwhelmed with all the advice you find. Much is about behavior, but one important point which I’ve seen more than once (I’m quoting here from Gillian Adams’ website) is to avoid: “1. Grandiose Speeches”. (For more of her list, see: https://gillianbronteadams.com/2011/12/villainy-101/ ) Such speeches can easily lead to what beginning writers are often warned against and which is commonly called an “information dump”, where an author employs that grandiose speech to fill in a great deal of plot—often criticized as lazy writing.

Tolkien was certainly, if anything, not a lazy writer and I thought that it would be fun to look at the speech not of one antagonist, but of several, in The Lord of the Rings to see how he portrays their dialogue and, through it, them.

Sauron, the chief antagonist, although he presents the main difficulty in the story has, unfortunately, few lines—just questions and imperatives—but then he’s only an eye—

although I suppose we could take that brevity as implying that, as a character, he is nothing but a strong will, used to making demands on all those around him and expecting instant obedience.

So let’s begin with his (although he doesn’t know it) minion, Saruman—

(the Hildebrandts)

as initially reported by Gandalf.

Saruman, although, through Radagast the Brown, has sent for Gandalf, is hardly welcoming:

“ ‘So you have come, Gandalf…For aid? It has seldom been heard of that Gandalf the Grey sought for aid, one so cunning, so wise, wandering about the lands, and concerning himself in every business, whether it belongs to him or not.’”

This leads him to continue:

“ ‘How long, I wonder, have you concealed from me, the head of the Council, a matter of greatest import? What brings you now from your lurking-place in the Shire?’ ”

So, we hear sarcasm,–“so cunning, so wise” and “lurking-place”–but then there’s something more—and it seems characteristic of Saruman that this villain, at least, can be quite roundabout in coming to the point—the real point—of his invitation. But then we’re shown something which begins to look like he’s launching into the Grandiose–

“ He drew himself up then and began to declaim, as if he were giving a speech long rehearsed“ Gandalf begins—and notice that we’re being given stage directions, providing us with an idea not only of Saruman’s posture, but of his tone—this is an oration, not an intimate conversation:

“ ‘The Elder Days are gone. The Middle Days are passing. The Younger Days are beginning. The time of the Elves is over, but our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that the good which only the Wise, can see.’ “

Here, in true oratorical fashion, Saruman provides a preface: three grand ages—and note, as well, that rhetorical pattern of three—of which the first is gone, the second about to be gone, and the third just coming into being. And then he begins to come to his point—but only begins: “the world of Men, which we must rule.” Upon which he then expands: “But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.”

So far, then, this definitely might seem like it was leaning towards the Grandiose—although JRRT has already suggested that Gandalf is aware of that lean by having him say that Saruman seems not to be speaking naturally, but declaiming. At the same time, however, we can also see that, although Saruman’s subject is power, he suggests that Gandalf is his natural confederate in gaining it, attempting flattery—“…we must have power, power to order all things as we will…’ ” and that “we” are the [capital W] Wise.

From declamation, Saruman slips into the more conversational—really conspiratorial—tone:

“ ‘And listen, Gandalf, my old friend and helper!’ he said, [and another stage direction here] coming near and speaking now in a softer voice, ‘I said we, for we it may be, if you will join with me.’ “

From a history lesson, Saruman has quickly exposed his real theme, and he continues:

“ ‘A new Power is rising. Against it the old allies and policies will not avail us at all. There is no hope left in Elves or dying Numenor.’ “

So—not even men—after all, Numenorians—or, rather the descendants of the Numenorians—are men—are enough, and the Elves are just about out of the picture, meaning that, potentially, not only is there no hope left in either of them, but no hope left at all—but hope of what, Saruman has not yet said. He’s about to hint at it, however, continuing his roundabout method:

“ ‘This then is one choice left before you, before us. We may join with that Power. It would be wise, Gandalf. There is hope that way. Its victory is at hand; and there will be rich reward for those that aided it.’ “

Still not saying what that hope might be of—until

“ ‘As the Power grows, its proved friends will also grow; and the Wise, such as you and I, may with patience come at last to direct its courses, to control it.’ “

Saruman’s hope, then, is that he—uh, they—although unable to resist that Power (as Saruman persists in capitalizing it), can come to be its directors—

“ ‘We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring maybe evils done by the way…’ “

And now, discarding rhetoric, Saruman has begun to reveal himself: once sent by the Valar as a counterbalance to Sauron, to gain his own power, Saruman is willing to act like the very one he was sent against—or worse:

“ ‘…but approving the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things that we have so far striven in vain to accomplish, hindered rather than helped by our weak or idle friends.’ “

If the Valar had meant the Maiar, the Wizards, to oppose Sauron, their purpose was certainly not to gain abstractions like “Knowledge, Rule, Order” (which sounds like something from Orwell’s 1984) and Saruman gives away his own “high and ultimate purpose” in this and underlines it with:

“ ‘There need not be, there would not be, any real change in our designs, only in our means.’ “

Tolkien so far, then, has shown Saruman through his speech as sarcastic, then pompous, acting like a public orator in front of a crowd, although speaking only to Gandalf—then sly, attempting to flatter by suggesting that:

1. Gandalf is his “old friend and helper”

2. and that, if Gandalf goes along, he, too, will be one of “the Wise”

as well as glossing over what Gandalf might object to—“deploring maybe evils done by the way”, to achieve goals which seem the very opposite of that of the Valar—“Knowledge, Rule, Order”, and continuing that slyness by not defining any of those, simply implying that Gandalf must already not only understand them, but have already been a partner in working towards them in the past—although we notice that, although he’s called Gandalf “his old friend”, he has added “and helper”, reducing Gandalf to a subordinate position with that one word.

Still, Saruman continues to be oblique—he talks about the Power, talks about somehow coming to manage and direct it although never suggesting how, but, when Gandalf objects, he comes a little closer to the point—with more stage directions: “drew himself up”, “speaking now in a softer voice”,

“He looked at me sidelong, and paused a while considering. ‘Well, I see that this wise course does not commend itself to you…Not yet? Not if some better way can be contrived?’

He came and laid his long hand on my arm. [Think here about Saruman’s badge—on the shields and helmets of his orcs]

“ ‘And why not, Gandalf?’ he whispered. ‘Why not? The Ruling Ring?’ “

And now we come to the real reason for Saruman’s invitation:

“ ‘If we could command that, then the Power would pass to us. That is in truth why I brought you here. For I have many eyes in my service, and I believe that you know where this precious [from Saruman’s badge to Gollum with one word!]

(Alan Lee)

thing now lies. Is it not so? Or why do the Nine ask for the Shire, and what is your business there?’ “

So, so far, we’ve seen Saruman’s speech as sarcastic, pompous/declamatory, sly, and whispering/conspiratorial, but, when Gandalf once more rejects his approach, he takes on one more tone–menace:

“He was cold now and perilous. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I did not expect you to show wisdom, even in your own behalf; but I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly, so saving yourself much trouble and pain. The third choice is to stay here, until the end…Until you reveal to me where the One may be found. I may find means to persuade you. Or until it is found in your despite, and the Ruler has time to turn to lighter matters: to devise, say, a fitting reward for the hindrance and insolence of Gandalf the Grey.’ “

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

What has happened to “my old friend and helper”? and “the Power would pass to us”? Now it’s “I gave you the chance of aiding me” and someone wants to become “the Ruler”. Although Tolkien has provided us with a certain number of physical clues, as in“laid his long hand on my arm”, it’s in his manner of speaking and how it changes throughout the scene that we see Saruman, once the Head of the Maiar, become “Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours!”, traitor to the good people of Middle-earth, far from his original mission, and ultimately not “the Ruler” he foolishly assumes that he will be, with or without Gandalf.

In Part 2, we’ll move from this greater villain to much lesser ones, to see what their speech tells us about them.

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Beware of people who call you “my old friend”, and then threaten you,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

For more on Saruman’s manner of speaking—in his second appearance, when he’s a prisoner in his own tower—see: “By Ear (2)”, 14 May, 2025.

Thin and Stretched

14 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bilbo, Death, Eowyn, Fantasy, Frodo, Gandalf, John Milton, lotr, Merry, Nazgul, Paradise Lost, Rings, Ringwraiths, The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien, Witch King of Angmar, Witch-King of Angmar

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

You recognized where the title of this posting comes from, I’m sure. Bilbo and Gandalf

have been talking and Bilbo describes his current state:

“ ‘I am old, Gandalf. I don’t look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed!…Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.’ “ (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 1, “A Long-expected Party”)

(You’ll notice the pun here—as I’m sure JRRT did–in the combination of “preserve(d)” with butter and bread—did he write this originally during breakfast one morning?)

After this, there is a very tense scene where Gandalf inquires about the Ring, Bilbo becomes hostile, but, in the end, Bilbo leaves the Ring and clearly feels great relief, even singing.

Nine years later, in a subsequent scene, after Gandalf had related, the previous night, some details about the Ring to Frodo, we can see what had been going on in Gandalf’s mind those nine years before and his concern for Bilbo then, persuading him to put the Ring aside:

“ ‘A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the Dark Power that rules the Rings. Yes, sooner or later—later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last—sooner or later the Dark Power will devour him.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 2, “The Shadow of the Past”)

Bilbo was, indeed, as stretched as he felt—and in more danger than he could know. And it was a danger others had undergone before him—had they known what would happen?

(David T. Wenzel—you can see more of his work here: https://ixgallery.com/artists/davidwenzel/ and visit his website here: https://davidwenzel.com/ Be sure to spend time looking at his sketches—he’s a beautiful draftsman and his work is a pleasure to examine.)

Gandalf goes on to explain the history of the Nazgul to Frodo, in relation to the very Ring we see here:

“ ‘Nine he gave to Mortal Men, proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago they fell under the dominion of the One, and they became Ringwraiths, shadows under his great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago.’ “

And Gandalf continues, being more prophetic than he knows:

“ ‘It is many a year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who knows? As the Shadow grows once more, they too may walk again.’ ” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 2, “The Shadow of the Past”)

The Ringwraiths, the Nazgul, will appear again and again in the story, pursuing Frodo and his friends in their initial journey from the Shire, attempting to bribe Gaffer Gamgee,

(Denis Gordeev)

making an attack upon Frodo and his friends at the Prancing Pony,

(Ted Nasmith)

nearly fatally wounding Frodo on Weathertop,

(John Howe)

pursuing him to the ford,

(Denis Gordeev)

but, although washed away there,

(Ted Nasmith)

after a pause (although occasionally seen in the sky), participating in the assault on Minas Tirith,

(Denis Gordeev)

with the leader of their number finally destroyed by a combination of Eowyn and Merry.

(Ted Nasmith)

But this brings up a question: if the Ringwraiths are “shadows under [Sauron’s] Great Shadow”, how can they:

1. carry weapons (think of the Morgul knife which wounds Frodo)

2. ride horses

3. somehow, after those horses are destroyed, make their way back to Mordor for replacements

4. although disembodied, be wounded and even destroyed by mortal weapons?

And the answer is: unclear. This is a place where I think JRRT wanted spookiness and substance, too, so his insubstantial menace—the Nazgul seem, in fact, to need those cloaks to be embodied—can do things like ride horses and other, unmentionable, things,

(Alan Lee)

and wield real weapons, as well as suffer wounds, like the mortals they once were. And that leader even wears a crown—

“Upon [the beast] sat a shape, black-mantled, huge and threatening. A crown of steel he bore, but between rim and robe naught was there to see, save only a deadly gleam of eyes.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 6, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields”)

which might, in fact, give us a clue as to where that invisibility—and something more– might originally have sprung from.

Recently, I’ve been rereading John Milton’s (1608-1674) Paradise Lost 1667-1674),

where I came upon this scene, in which we see Satan, defeated in battle, with plans for revenge, is flying towards new-made Eden. In his flight, he sees:

“…The other shape,

If shape it might be called that shape had none

Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb,

Or substance might be called that shadow seemed,

For each seemed either; black it stood as Night,

Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head

The likeness of a kingly crown had on.” (Paradise Lost, Book II, lines 666-673)

This is, in fact, Death, we’re told, the offspring of Satan and the personification of Sin. The Witch King of Angmar (the head of the Nazgul) may not be quite so dramatic a figure as that, and, for all that he’s the shadow of a shadow, he isn’t deathless, but the similarities—the lack of substance, the crown– are such that it makes me wonder: while he was having that creative breakfast, did Tolkien have his copy of Paradise Lost propped up on the table in front of him?

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

Always try to come between the Nazgul and his prey,

(Federico—for more of his work, see: https://pigswithcrayons.com/author/federico-piatti/ )

And remember that, as ever, there’s

MTCIDC

Through a glass…

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2nd Corinthians, Apostle Paul, Boromir, Dracula, Fantasy, Frodo, lotr, Mirror of Galadriel, mirrors, Sam, Sauron, Snow White, Through the Looking Glass, Through the Looking-Glass, Tolkien

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,

On the Roads Again—Once More

10 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bilbo, Fantasy, Frodo, lotr, Minas Morgul, Mordor, Mt Doom, Orcs, Orodruin, Osgiliath, Roads, Sam, The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien, Udun

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

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

On the Road(s) Again

19 Wednesday Nov 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Argonautica, Bilbo, Bree, Fantasy, Frodo, Gondor, Great East Road, Jason, Journey to the West, lotr, Tharbad, The Argonautica, The Bridge of Strongbows, the Greenway, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The Odyssey, the-great-east-road, Tolkien, Willie Nelson

“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 16^th 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 3^rd 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 16^thcentury 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 1^ST 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 2^nd 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

Going Around in Cycles

17 Wednesday Sep 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Barrow-wight, Finnegans Wake, Giambattista Vico, goblin king, James Joyce, La Scienza Nuova, lotr, Mirkwood spiders, Nazgul, Ouroboros, Palantir, runes, Shelob, swords, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King, Tolkien, Tom Bombadil, Yogi Berra

“It’s déjà vue all over again.”

(attributed to Yogi Berra, US baseball player, but see: https://quoteinvestigator.com/2013/10/08/deja-vu-again/ )

Dear readers, as always, welcome.

In later life, James Joyce, 1882-1941,

was interested in the work of the 17-18^th-century philosopher (among other things) Giambattista Vico, 1668-1744,

and his idea that history followed a definite repeated pattern in three ages, Divine, Heroic, and Human, posited in his 1725-1744 work, La Scienza Nuova (“the new understanding, knowledge, learning”).

(For more on Vico, see: https://www.philosopheasy.com/p/the-eternal-return-giambattista-vicos This is, potentially, a very large subject, and even more so when Joyce is combined with Vico. For an introductory view, see: https://archive.org/details/vicojoyce00vere_0/page/n5/mode/2up )

Joyce incorporated his understanding of Vico in his last work, Finnegans Wake, 1939, in which

the idea of repeated patterns cycling throughout appears in the very opening—and closing– lines of the book:

“A way a lone a last a loved a long the / riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.”

which, in fact, are reversed, the opening of the book being:

“…riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs…”

and the last words of the book are:

“A way a lone a last a loved a long the…”

so that, by joining them, we have the effect of the serpent Ouroboros, tail/tale joined to mouth—and the book can begin again.

(For more on Finnegans Wake, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finnegans_Wake For more on the serpent, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ouroboros )

I’ve always thought that leaving Tom Bombadil and the Barrow-wight

(Matthew Stewart—see more of his work here: https://www.matthew-stewart.com/ See, in particular, his Middle-earth work, but then go through his other galleries to view his impressive ability to capture other imaginary worlds.)

out of the first Lord of the Rings film was a mistake, even though Tolkien himself once wrote:

“Tom Bombadil is not an important person—to the narrative.” (letter to Naomi Mitchison, 25 April, 1954, Letters, 268—but read on, as JRRT has much more to say and, to my mind, justifies his position in the narrative, in fact, in a spiritual way.)

Tom is interesting in himself, being a kind of parallel for Treebeard, among other things (and the writers of the Rings of Power series thought highly enough of him to include him in their telling), but, for me, in the narrative, it’s what he gives them, particularly Merry, which is important—

“For each of the hobbits he chose a dagger, long, leaf-shaped, and keen, of marvelous workmanship…”

(probably something like this, but more elaborately-worked)

‘Old knives are long enough as swords for hobbit-people,’ he said…Then he told them that the blades were forged many long years ago by Men of Westernesse: they were foes of the Dark Lord, but they were overcome by the evil king of Carn Dum in the Land of Angmar.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 8, “Fog on the Barrow-downs”)

This is, of course, the weapon which Merry uses to stab the chief of the Nazgul while he’s attacking Eowyn, the Nazgul being the very witch-king who had overcome the Men of Westernesse so long before.

(Ted Nasmith)

To keep Tom and the Barrow-wight in the film is then to underline the cyclic nature of much of the story.

This unnamed but crucial sword is only one of the swords scattered throughout the later story of Middle-earth, however, and there is a cyclic potential for others, as well.

Think of the swords which Gandalf and Co. find in the trolls’ hideout in The Hobbit—

“…and among them were several swords of various makes, shapes, and sizes. Two caught their eyes particularly, because of their beautiful scabbards and jeweled hilts…

‘These look like good blades,’ said the wizard, half drawing them and looking at them curiously. ‘They were not made by any troll, nor by any smith among men in these parts and days; but when we can read the runes on them, we shall know more about them.’ “ (The Hobbit, Chapter Two, “Roast Mutton”)

In the next chapter, Elrond then identifies them:

“Elrond knew all about runes of every kind. That day he looked at the swords they had brought from the trolls’ lair, and he said: ‘These are not troll-make. They are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West, my kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. They must have come from a dragon’s hoard or goblin plunder, for dragons and goblins destroyed that city many ages ago. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a famous blade. This, Gandalf, is Glamdring, a Foe-hammer that the king of Gondolin once wore.’ “ (The Hobbit, Chapter Three. “A Short Rest”)

And you’ll remember that Gandalf runs the king of later goblins through in the next chapter with that very sword:

“Suddenly a sword flashed in its own light. Bilbo saw it go right through the Great Goblin as he stood dumb-founded in the middle of his rage. He fell dead, and the goblin soldiers fled before the sword shrieking into the darkness.” (The Hobbit, Chapter Four, “Over Hill and Under Hill”)

(Alan Lee)

The knife which Bilbo picks up from the trolls’ hoard “only a tiny pocket-knife for a troll, but it was as good as a short sword for the hobbit”, comes in handy later in The Hobbit, when Bilbo uses it to kill some of the spiders of Mirkwood,

(Oleksiy Lipatov—you can see more of his work here: https://www.deviantart.com/lipatov/gallery/85631839/old-comic  )

but it will reappear many years later in The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo and Sam use it against another ancient evil, Shelob–

(Ted Nasmith again—and, unusually for his work, just plain weird—but vivid!)

Perhaps the most consequential sword to return, however, is that which maimed Sauron many centuries ago, causing him to lose the Ring, and which, reforged, Aragorn shows him in Saruman’s palantir

(the Hildebrandts)

(itself appearing from a far older world, being as Aragorn says, “For this assuredly is the palantir of Orthanc, from the treasury of Elendil, set here by the Kings of Gondor.” The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 11, “The Palantir”):

“…The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armour of Theoden; 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. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay doubt ever gnaws him.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 2, “The Passing of the Grey Company”)

And there are more cyclings.

Consider the Ring itself: forged in the fires of Mt Doom, it is eventually returned there and destroyed,

(another Ted Nasmith)

which causes the final end of Sauron, after several ages of struggle,

(and one more Ted Nasmith–and who better to paint a cataclysm?)

and which, in turn, brings the—return of the King.

(Denis Gordeev–and note that the artist has painted Aragorn’s crown as depicted by Tolkien in a letter to Rhona Beare, 14 October, 1958, see Letters, 401.)

After thinking about this, I can see that there are even more cyclic events, like the movement of the elves westwards, and Gandalf traveling the same way, originally sent eastwards to oppose Sauron,

(one more Ted Nasmith)

but I think that this is enough for one posting—though considering all of the cycles I’ve already identified, I’ll end with another (supposed) quotation from Yogi Berra:

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Remember one more piece of Yogi wisdom

And remember, as well, that there’s always

MTCIDC

Starre-crost

25 Wednesday Jun 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Beowulf, Bilbo, Cirdan, Dorothy, Fantasy, Gandalf, Herakles, Kansas, King Arthur, lotr, Mulan, Narya, Rings of Power, Superman, The Grey Havens, The Hobbit, The Rings of Power, Tolkien, tornado, Valar

As always, dear readers, welcome.

In adventure stories, heroes—and heroines– seem to appear in all sorts of ways.

Sometimes, it seems that they are just born for adventure, like Herakles, who,

although apparently the offspring of two mortals, Alkmene and Amphitryon, was actually the son of Zeus.

Others belong to noble families, where heroism is expected of them, like Beowulf, nephew of the king of the Geats.

(Here, meeting the Danish coastguard—but we just can’t escape those Wagnerian winged helmets, can we?)

Then there is Mulan, who, pretending to be a man, replaces her father in the army and serves valiantly for twelve years.

(As you can see from the label, this comes from a site called “Chinese Posters.net”—and it’s quite a site: 5100 propaganda posters from the Chinese past. Here’s the address: https://chineseposters.net/ For more on the original but probably fictional Mulan, see: https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1596/mulan-the-legend-through-history/ and https://mulanbook.com/pages/northern-wei/ballad-of-mulan/ and https://en.m.wikisource.org/wiki/Translation:Ballad_of_Mulan –two versions of the early “Ballad of Mulan)

A common motif is that of the apparent good-for-nothing—or at least for not much—who turns out to be of heroic material. I immediately think of King Arthur, who is, basically, a servant until he fetches that sword from the stone/anvil.

Heroes and heroines, then, can be anything from a demigod to a nobleman to a good girl who loves her father to a good-for-nothing who is more than he seems, and set out on adventures or, as in the case of Arthur, adventure finds them.

Ordinary—or seemingly ordinary—people can also be pulled into adventures, as Bilbo is.

(the Hildebrandts)

Then there are people who are literally dropped into adventures,

(WW Denslow)

sometimes beginning those adventures in a very dramatic—and ultimately decisive—way.

Dorothy, of course, has been whirled by a tornado from Kansas to Oz,

(from the 1939 film)

but, when she arrives in Oz in the film, Glinda, the Good Witch of the North

(also from the film)

sings:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are and meet the young lady

Who fell from a star.

She fell from the sky, she fell very far and Kansas, she says,

Is the name of that star.”

Not true, of course, of Dorothy, (although Kansas has its beauties, no doubt), but it is true of another hero, Superman,

who had been shipped in a rocket by his parents from the dying planet, Krypton, and discovered in a field by Ma and Pa Kent, who would become his foster parents.

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I don’t find negative reviews which are nothing but hatchet jobs

at all helpful and, in my own reviews, I try to understand what it is that the creators attempted to do and react to that, being aware, of course, that I do have my own perspective on things. I also buy DVDs of everything I can, so that I can watch things more than once before I review.

I’ve now seen “Rings of Power”, both seasons,

only once, so I’m not going to attempt to review the whole two seasons here. Certainly there have been some very impressive visuals and some very good acting. I’m not sure how I feel about the two as a whole—some of the plot I found rather confusing and I’m not sure how I feel about proto-hobbits with Irish accents, although the idea of using proto-hobbits was, I thought, pretty ingenious—but I want to end this posting by talking about Gandalf.

He first appears—like Dorothy in Oz, but even more so like the baby Superman, in a dramatic fashion, having been conveyed in which appears to be a kind of meteor which roars across the sky and slams into the earth, leaving a fiery crater.

(Thank goodness that, whoever sent him, dressed him in underpants so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself or us when he stood up.)

At first, he seems stricken and quite clueless, not even really having language at first, although certainly having great powers, and it takes two seasons for him to begin to understand himself and what he’s been sent to do and I suspect that this stricken quality comes from a hint in Christopher/JRR Tolkien’s Unfinished Tales, where, under “The Istari” we find:

“For it is said indeed that being embodied the Istari had need to learn much anew by slow experience…” (Unfinished Tales, 407)

I understand that the creators of the series were somewhat hampered in their work—should they want to be as faithful as possible to Tolkien—because they were restricted in their sources, being confined, in this case, to The Lord of the Rings and its appendices. And, at first glance, the appearance in Middle-earth of the Istari does seem rather vague.

In Appendix B, “The Third Age”, of The Lord of the Rings, we read:

“When maybe a thousand years had passed, and the first shadow had fallen on Greenwood the Great, the Istari or Wizards appeared in Middle-earth. It was afterwards said that they came out of the Far West and were messengers sent to contest the power of Sauron, and to unite all those who had the will to resist him…”

No meteors are mentioned, but no other means of transport, either, yet turn the page and we then read:

“Gil-galad before he died gave his ring to Elrond; Cirdan later surrendered his to Mithrandir (aka Gandalf). For Cirdan saw further and deeper than any other in Middle-earth, and he welcomed Mithrandir at the Grey Havens, knowing whence he came and wither he would return.”

If you know The Lord of the Rings, you know that the Grey Havens is a seaport on the west coast of Middle-earth: it’s where Gandalf and others, including Frodo, depart for the Uttermost West—that is, Valinor.

(Ted Nasmith and a gorgeous view)

In fact, it was the Valar who had sent the Istari in the first place, as we know from Unfinished Tales, 406:

“For with the consent of Eru they sent members of their own high order, but clad in bodies as of Men, real and not feigned…”

And thus, from the source to which I’m informed the creators were confined, they would have learned that the Istari had sailed to Middle-earth, not been shot across the sky like Dorothy or Superman. Why make such a change, especially as, because Cirdan recognizes Gandalf’s worth, he gives him one of the original Elvish rings, Narya, which turns up on his hand in the subsequent The Lord of the Rings?

The title of this posting is a quotation from Shakespeare, from the prologue to “An EXCELLENT conceited Tragedie OF Romeo and Juliet” (as the First Quarto title page reads) in which the Prologue says of the protagonists: “A paire of starre-crost Louers tooke their life”.

The creators of The Rings of Power, even with evidence available to them, have veered away from that evidence with no explanation as to why they have made such a choice. What else may they have chosen to change and how might that affect JRRT’s view of the earlier history of Middle-earth, as well as ours?

As I begin my second viewing of The Rings of Power, then, I’ll be curious to see if another Shakespeare quotation, this from “The Tragedie of Julius Caesar”, Act 1, Scene 1, when Cassius, the leader of the plot against Julius Caesar, is trying to persuade Brutus to join him, may apply to the creators and their work:

“The fault (deere Brutus) is not in our Starres,

But in our Selues…”

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Think about what Cassius is telling us about horoscopes,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

To Horse!

18 Wednesday Jun 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Agincourt, bicycle, Boer War, cavalry charges, Charge of the Light Brigade, Cu Chulainn, Dwarves, Fredegunda, Gregory of Tours, heavy artillery, Historia Francorum, Hobbits, horses, King Edward's Horse, lotr, machine gun, machine-guns, Nazgul, Normans, Pegasus, Rohirrim, Russian Civil War, signals officer, Sleipnir, The Hobbit, Tolkien, Valkyries

In a colleague’s office, I once saw this on his wall—

“Proletariat, to horse!”

It’s a recruiting poster from the Russian civil war (1918-1922), showing the Reds trying to raise cavalry for their armies, but, at the time this call came, the military world was changing and, although horsemen would still appear, very sporadically, on battlefields, for some years to come, the day of events like this—

was rapidly coming to a close.

It didn’t happen all at once, however. As you can imagine, traditional cavalrymen—those who believed that swinging a sword in a valiant charge was the point of cavalry—

fought back. The evidence was against them, however, in two ways.

First, in the case of the British, there had been the Boers,

with whom the British had fought a war, from 1899-1902. The Boers (Dutch for “farmers”) had been militia—men obliged by law to defend the state upon demand. Across the wide open spaces of so much of South Africa, they had fought as mounted infantry, using horses as a means of moving from place to place, then dismounting for combat and, if things didn’t go their way, mounting up and escaping.

To counter this, especially in the later phases of the war, the British were forced to develop their own mounted infantry,

which suggested to some military theorists at the time that the wave of the future was not in sword-swingers, but in riflemen, who could rapidly move to where they were needed, but employ horses for transport, not for gallant charges. (This also led to the rise of units mounted entirely on bicycles,

but we can imagine the off-road difficulties for early machines and, although there were bicycle units as late as WW2, they never had the popularity—or the dash—of horsemen.)

The second piece of evidence lies in technological change.

With the coming of the 20^th century, machine guns, sometimes firing as many as 600 rounds (shots) per minute,

appeared in increasing numbers and artillery was developed to become more accurate at greater distances.

In self-defense, soldiers would be forced to take cover wherever they could,

at first in holes simply scraped out of the ground, but, in time, in very sophisticated lines, shored up with wood and metal and sandbags.

On the Western Front, where everyone was dug into the ground, and being in the open could mean instant destruction, there simply wasn’t a place for old-fashioned cavalry, for all that there were still lots of old-fashioned cavalrymen in the army—like the first commander of the British in France in 1914, Sir John French.

Imagine, then, that this was all happening when Tolkien was very young—when the Boer War ended, in 1902, for instance, he would have been only 10.

(JRRT and his brother, Hillary, in 1905)

His own military career had begun at King Edward’s School in Birmingham, when he entered the new Cadet Corps in 1907.

(For more, see this essay by John Garth: https://johngarth.wordpress.com/2014/03/05/tolkien-at-fifteen-a-warrior-to-be/ )

Then, in the summer of 1912, he was briefly a member of a territorial (a sort of national guard unit) cavalry regiment, King Edward’s Horse. (The reference here is to Carpenter’s J.R.R.Tolkien, 66. John Garth later added detail to this, but subsequently qualified it, saying that his evidence was faulty. See: https://oxfordinklings.blogspot.com/2009/06/tolkien-and-horses.html )

(Officers of the regiment about 1916)

It was clearly an indication of the drop in the use of cavalry, however, when JRRT began his second enlistment not in a cavalry, but an infantry regiment, the Lancashire Fusiliers, in which he was commissioned as a 2^nd Lieutenant in 1915.

In his brief battlefield career, he was the signals officer for his battalion, the 11^th. In the advance into the Somme in July, 1916, Tolkien, although armed with a revolver,

would have been too busy to do any fighting as his work involved

“More code, flag and disc signaling, the transmission of messages by heliograph and lamp, the use of signal rockets and field-telephones, even how to handle carrier pigeons…” (Carpenter, 86)

To ask for reinforcements, as well as to avoid artillery fire which could be called in to fend off German counterattacks, but which might hit friendly troops instead, it was extremely necessary for attacking units to let their positions and situations be known as often as possible, so JRRT would have been more than a little occupied during the months (1 July-18 November, 1916) of the very costly (nearly 58,000 British casualties the first day alone) offensive. Fortunately for him—and for us—he fell ill with so-called “trench fever” and left France for good early in November, going home to England and, ultimately, to Middle-earth.

Although his military service in the field was relatively brief, and his career with cavalry even briefer (he resigned from King Edward’s Horse in January, 1913), we see horses everywhere in Middle-earth, from the ponies of the dwarves in The Hobbit

(from Painting Valley—no artist listed)

to the horses of the Nazgul in The Lord of the Rings.

(with the Gaffer, one of my favorite illustrations by Denis Gordeev)

But, although cavalry might have been only a brief flirtation for Tolkien, horses had been part of his life since its beginnings. Part of this would have been mundane—it was only after the Great War that the internal combustion engine really began to dominate the streets. When JRRT was young, Birmingham and London, as well as Berlin, Paris, and New York, would have looked like this—

His early reading would have given him Bellerophon on Pegasus,

to which would have been added the Valkyries,

and, in time, Sleipnir, Odin’s 8-legged steed,

(This is the Tjaengvide image stone, one of a group of runic stones, called the “Sigurd stones”, found in Sweden and dated to between 700 and 1100AD. You can read more about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tj%C3%A4ngvide_image_stone You can read about the other stones here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigurd_stones Tolkien would first have heard about Sigurd from Andrew Lang’s The Red Fairy Book, 1890, which you can find here: https://archive.org/details/redfairybook00langiala/redfairybook00langiala/mode/2up Sigurd himself possessed the offspring of Sleipnir, Grani, which you can read about here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grani )

and further medieval reading would have filled his mind with mythic and magic horses, like Cu Chulainn, the Irish hero’s, chariot pair, water horses named Liath Macha and Dub Sainglend (although he wasn’t very enthusiastic about Old Irish literature which, I suspect, he found much wilder and stranger and more disturbing than, say, the Welsh Mabinogion, which you can read about here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mabinogion )

(a rather over-the-top image by the usually dependable Angus McBride—someone should have mentioned to him that, although “Dub” means “black”, Liath means “grey”. Cu Chulainn is one of my favorite ancient berserkers—to mix cultures—and, if you don’t know him, you can begin to read about him here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%BA_Chulainn )

But there are magical horses in many places—see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_horses_in_mythology_and_folklore for many more, with at least many of the medieval, he would have been familiar.

And while we’re speaking of Middle-earth and horses, we need to mention the Normans, who, combined with the Anglo-Saxons for language, were the basis of the Rohirrim–

“The Rohirrim were not ‘medieval’ in our sense. The styles of the Bayeux Tapestry…fit them well enough…” (letter to Rhona Beare, 14 October, 1958, Letters, 401)

The Rohirrim, in turn, lead us back to the opening of this posting. Although, in Tolkien’s day, cavalry and glorious charges,

like that of the British Light Brigade at Balaclava in 1854, commemorated in Tennyson’s poem, were almost at the end of their military usefulness, for a Romantic, like Tolkien, the idea of such a charge was still a powerful image and one he couldn’t resist, depicting the heroic Rohirrim assembling

(from the Jackson film)

and roaring down on the unsuspecting orcs.

(Abe Papakhian)

JRRT was writing medieval fantasy, however, but, as I’m always interested in “what if’s”, here I’m remembering what actually happened to that Light Brigade charge, an attack made in the teeth of Russia artillery.

The consequence was that, out of 609 men who rode towards the Russians, only 198 returned, and Lady Butler’s picture, “Balaclava the Return 25 October 1854” (1911) sums up the actual aftermath of that charge.

There’s evidence in the destruction of the Causeway Forts that Sauron’s army had some sort of blasting powder—suppose, instead of using it just as a siege tool, it had been employed with some sort of projectile propelled by it out of a tube—what might that have done to the Rohirrim’s valiant attack?

Or even using the technique of the English army against the French at Agincourt, in our medieval world of 1415AD: pointed stakes to threaten horses, behind which stood massed bowmen: what would have been the outcome of that?

(Angus Mcbride)

475 horses were lost in the Charge of the Light Brigade. Military progress so often just means more killing, but the replacement of horses with machines seems to me, who loves horses, a turn for the better. At the same time, with Tolkien, I can feel the attraction for wild charges with swords at top speed (although cavalry did better when, at most, it went in at the canter—galloping causes loss of formation which can blunt the effect of such an attack), but, as in the charge of the Rohirrim, I’m glad if they only appear in fiction—and far from modern weaponry.

Thanks, as ever, for reading,

Stay well,

Remember that there’s a special spot, just behind the poll (top of the head), which, if scratched in the right place, makes many horses happy,

And remember, as well, that there’s always

MTCIDC

One of those little “what if” quirks of history–Tolkien’s immediate family had been in the Orange Free State at the time of his birth, in 1892. Tolkien’s father, Arthur, was manager of the Bloemfontein branch there of the Bank of Africa. The Orange Free State was one of the Boer republics attacked by Britain in the Boer War of 1899-1902. If Tolkien’s mother hadn’t brought JRRT and his brother, Hilary, back to England, in 1895, and Arthur hadn’t died of the effects of rheumatic fever in 1896,

Tolkien might have been in the Orange Free State when Bloemfontein was occupied by the British on 13 March, 1900. (You can see early film of the Scots Guards marching in here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHy2cEFwlIo )

PPS

In last week’s posting, I mentioned the story of the wonderfully bloodthirsty Frankish queen Fredegunda, as she appears in Gregory of Tours Historia Francorum. I wrote there that you might read about her assassination of Bishop Praetextatus and her cold-blooded visit to him on his deathbed afterwards—but it required reading Gregory’s 6^th-century Latin, as I didn’t provide a translation. It seemed lazy of me not to include one of that scene, however, so here it is with the original Latin. As always, I could smooth this out, but I prefer to stick as close as I can to the text, to give you a better feel for what’s actually been written.

Advenientem autem dominicae resurrectionis diae, cum sacerdos ad implenda aeclesiastica officia ad aeclesiam maturius properasset, antefanas iuxta consuetudinem incipere per ordinem coepit. Cumque inter psallendum formolae decumberet, crudelis adfuit homicida, qui episcopum super formolam quiescentem, extracto baltei cultro, sub ascella percutit. Ille vero vocem emittens, ut clerici qui aderant adiuvarent, nullius ope de tantis adstantibus est adiutus. At ille plenas sanguine manus super altarium extendens, orationem fundens et Deo gratias agens, in cubiculo suo inter manus fidelium deportatus et in suo lectulo collocatus est. Statimque Fredegundis cum Beppoleno duce et Ansovaldo adfuit, dicens: ‘Non oportuerat haec nobis ac reliquae plebi tuae, o sancte sacerdos, ut ista tuo cultui evenirent. Sed utinam indicaretur, qui talia ausus est perpetrare, ut digna pro hoc scelere supplicia susteneret’. Sciens autem ea sacerdos haec dolose proferre, ait: ‘Et quis haec fecit nisi his, qui reges interemit, qui saepius sanguinem innocentem effudit, qui diversa in hoc regno mala commisit?’ Respondit mulier: ‘Sunt aput nos peritissimi medici, qui hunc vulnere medere possint. Permitte, ut accedant ad te’. Et ille: ‘Iam’, inquid, ‘me Deus praecepit de hoc mundo vocare. Nam tu, qui his sceleribus princeps inventa es, eris maledicta in saeculo, et erit Deus ultur sanguinis mei de capite tuo’. Cumque illa discederit, pontifex, ordinata domo sua, spiritum exalavit.

“However, with the coming of the day of [Our] Lord’s resurrection, when the priest [Praetextatus] had hurried early to the church to fulfill [his] ecclesiastical duties, he started to begin [the] antiphons according to custom [in their proper] order. And when, between the psalms, he was lying on a bench, a cruel murderer appeared, who, when a knife had been pulled from [his] belt, struck the bishop, resting on the bench, under the armpit. He [the bishop], however, [although] shouting so that the clergy who were present might help him, was aided with help of none from so many being present. Yet he, stretching his hands, full of blood, above the altar, pouring [out] a prayer and thanking God, was carried off into his bedchamber by the hands of [his] faithful [followers] and placed on his bed. And straightaway Fredegunda, with the Duke Beppolenus and Ansovaldus, appeared, saying, ‘Oh holy priest, this was not right for us and for the rest of your people that such things should happen in your worshipping. But would that it would be revealed who had dared to carry out such things that he should suffer punishment worthy of this crime.’ The priest, knowing, however, that she was speaking of these things deceptively, said, ‘And who has done these things if not [the one] who has killed kings, who very often has poured out innocent blood, who has committed many evil deeds in this kingdom’ The woman replied: ‘There are in our household highly experienced doctors who would be able to heal this wound. Allow [it] that they may come to you.’ And he [said]: ‘God has decreed to call me from this world. On the other hand, you who have been exposed as chief in these crimes, you will be cursed in the future and God will be the avenger of my blood on your head.’ And when she had left, the bishop, affairs arranged in his house, breathed out his spirit.”

And how could I not include Alma-Tadema’s illustration?

doubtfulsea

~ adventure fantasy

Tag Archives: lotr

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 3)

Do You Speak Villain? (2)

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 1)

Thin and Stretched

Through a glass…

On the Roads Again—Once More

On the Road(s) Again

Going Around in Cycles

Starre-crost

To Horse!