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

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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

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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.

A Moon disfigured

17 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Elizabeth I, herald, Heraldry, livery, Middle-earth, Minas Ithil, Minas Morgul, Orcs, puzzle, Sam, Saruman, Sauron, Sir Roger de Trumpington, The Great War, The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien, uniforms

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

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

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

and increasingly heavy artillery

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

so soldiers not only dug in,

but modified their uniforms, making themselves less visible.

(Gerry Embleton)

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

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

(Richard Hook)

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

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

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

(Angus McBride)

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

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

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

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

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

Tolkien himself belonged to the age of drab—

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

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

“The Guards of the gate were robed in black, and their helmets were of strange shape, high-crowned, with long cheek-guards close-fitting to the face, and above the cheek-guards were set the white wings of sea-birds; but the helms gleamed with a flame of silver, for they were indeed wrought of mithril, heirlooms from the glory of old days. Upon the black surcoats were embroidered in white a tree blossoming like snow beneath a silver crown and many-pointed stars. This was the livery of the heirs of Elendil, and none wore it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree had grown.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 1, “Minas Tirith”)

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

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

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

and the red eye of Sauron,

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

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

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

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

(Ted Nasmith)

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

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

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

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

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

As ever, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

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

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

MTCIDC

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

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

By Ear (3)

21 Wednesday May 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Brutus, cassius, ears, Fantasy, Gandalf, Hamlet, henbane, Julius Caesar, lotr, Marcus Antonius, Orthanc, Palantir, poison, Saruman, Sauron, Shakespeare, Tolkien

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

In the closing of the second part of this little series, I quoted Marcus Antonius in his funeral oration upon Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s play of the same name.

It is a masterpiece, both in its design and in its deception: saying one thing for the assassins, led by Brutus, to hear, and, on the other, poisoning the common people against the assassins, originally seen as liberators of the Republic. You probably remember its opening:

“Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears:

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him:

The euill that men do, liues after them,

The good is oft enterred with their bones,

So let it be with Caesar. The Noble Brutus,

Hath told you Caesar was Ambitious:

If it were so, it was a greeuous Fault,

And greeuously hath Caesar answer’d it.

Heere, vnder leaue of Brutus, and the rest

(For Brutus is an Honourable man,

So are they all; all Honourable men)

Come I to speake in Caesars Funerall.”

(Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 2, from the First Folio, 1623, in the original spelling. You can see it at my favorite site for the plays: https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/JC_F1/scene/3.2/index.html )

Speech with a deceptive goal is a theme of this series, as, in the first part, were poison–and ears.

In the scene in Shakespeare’s play, Marcus Antonius plays a dangerous game. In order to be able to speak, he has made a deal with the assassins of Caesar not to say anything inflammatory against them, and so we see those words “Honourable men” repeated, as if Antonius is going to praise them—while only burying Caesar, as he says—just the sort of thing which we can imagine the assassins wanted to hear. And yet, as he continues, “Honourable men” gradually becomes ironic and, by the end of his speech, he controls the mob and it’s clear that the assassins are no longer considered liberators, but murderers, Antonius having successfully poisoned those lent ears against the very men who foolishly gave him leave to speak.

We began the series with poison—and Shakespeare: literal poison (possibly henbane)

which, as Hamlet’s ghostly father tells Hamlet, had been administered to him through his ear by his own brother, Claudius, while he was napping in his garden

But, as we progressed, we moved from that chemical murder to a different kind of destruction, spiritual, in the case of Saruman in the second installment, and now, in the third and final installment, we move to the instrument of that poisoning, include a second poisoning victim, and find the mind behind it all and that mind’s method of persuasion, which, I would suggest, must be very like Antonius’ initial remarks, seeming to praise the assassins, but, just like his, with another motive underneath.

(JRRT)

When Saruman, failing to succeed with Theoden, has turned to Gandalf, Gandalf has alluded to his previous visit with Saruman, saying:

“What have you to say that you did not say at our last meeting?…Or, perhaps, you have things to unsay?” (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 10, “The Voice of Saruman”)

That last meeting had ended with Gandalf’s imprisonment in the tower of Orthanc,

(the Hildebrandts)

but, before that, Saruman had tried to persuade Gandalf to become an ally, and not only of Saruman, but of someone else, his speech including these words:

“We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring evils done by the way, but approving the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things we have so far striven in vain to accomplish…” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 2, “The Council of Elrond”)

Gandalf’s reply then suggests that what Saruman is saying is not really his own argument:

“ ‘I have heard speeches of this kind before, but only in the mouths of emissaries sent from Mordor to deceive the ignorant.’ “

What is it in those words which betrays their original authorship?

In the draft of a letter to Peter Hastings, Tolkien wrote:

“Sauron was of course not ‘evil’ in origin. He was a ‘spirit’ corrupted by the Prime Dark Lord…Morgoth. …at the beginning of the Second Age he was still beautiful to look at, or could still assume a beautiful visible shape—and was not indeed wholly evil, not unless all ‘reformers’ who want to hurry up with ‘reconstruction’ and ‘reorganization’ are wholly evil, even before pride and the lust to exert their will eat them up.” (draft of a letter to Peter Hastings, September, 1954, Letters, 284)

What Gandalf is actually hearing then is the thinking of Sauron and his “high and ultimate purpose”, but wrapped in words which will sound familiar to Saruman and appeal to his increasing arrogance—those words “high and ultimate purpose” echo Saruman’s depiction later in the story of just who the Istari are:

“Are we not both members of a high and ancient order, most excellent in Middle-earth?” (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 10, “The Voice of Saruman”)

That “order” was not sent to Middle-earth for “Knowledge, Rule, Order”, however, as this entry in the Appendices to The Lord of the Rings tells us:

“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; but they were forbidden to match his power with power, or to seek to dominate Elves or Men by force and fear.” (The Lord of the Rings, Appendix B: “The Third Age”)

Marcus Antonius has spoken indirectly to the assassins and directly to the mob, both through their ears, but Sauron’s words have reached Saruman through this—

(the Hildebrandts)

which we know that Saruman has had as it is flung through the doorway of Orthanc by Grima and almost brains Gandalf—

“With a cry Saruman fell back and crawled away. At that moment a heavy shining thing came hurtling down from above. It glanced off the iron rail, even as Saruman left it, passing close to Gandalf’s head, it smote the stair on which he stood.”

I never think of a palantir without thinking of another device used for conning unsuspecting victims—

Staring into the ball might have a kind of hypnotic effect, but it clearly also has the effect of focusing the will of another upon the victim—as Pippin found out to his grief:

“In a low hesitating voice Pippin began again, and his words grew clearer and stronger. ‘I saw a dark sky, and tall battlements…And tiny stars. It seemed very far away and long ago, yet hard and clear…Then he came. He did not speak so that I could hear words. He just looked and I understood…He said: “Who are you?’ I still did not answer, but it hurt me horribly; and he pressed me, so I said: ‘A hobbit.’ Then suddenly he seemed to see me, and he laughed at me. It was cruel. It was like being stabbed with knives…Then he gloated over me. I felt I was falling to pieces.’ “ (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 11, “The Palantir”)

This isn’t Sauron’s only use of such a device for his poisoning—another palantir lies in Minas Tirith and it’s clear from its possessor, Denethor’s, speech how Sauron has reached him:

“Do I not know thee, Mithrandir? Thy hope is to rule in my stead, to stand behind every throne, north, south, or west. I have read thy mind and its policies…So! With the left hand thou wouldst use me for a little while as a shield against Mordor, and with the right bring up this Ranger of the North to supplant me.”

And here we see how Sauron has distorted the original Istari goals, which Tolkien had described to Naomi Mitchison:

“They were thought to be Emissaries (in the terms of this tale from the Far West beyond the Sea), and their proper function, maintained by Gandalf and perverted by Saruman, was to encourage and bring out the native powers of the Enemies of Sauron.” (letter to Naomi Mitchison, 25 April, 1954, Letters 269-270)

Denethor is correct in understanding that Gandalf—and supposedly all of the Istari—are meant to stand behind thrones—but to encourage their possessors to oppose Sauron, not to gain power for themselves, as Saruman deceived himself into thinking. Denethor has not read Gandalf’s mind, but Sauron has definitely read Denethor’s—when Gandalf asks him what he wants, he replies:

“ ‘I would have things as they were in all the days of my life…and in the days of my longfathers before me: to be the Lord of this City in peace, and leave my chair to a son after me, who would be his own master and no wizard’s pupil.”

The Stewards are not the kings of Gondor. Although they have ruled for centuries, they are merely the lieutenants of the Numenorean kings, holding Gondor until a rightful king should appear, but it’s clear that Denethor has forgotten that, seeming to assume that he is the king—something surely in which Sauron has encouraged him . And we see here another sore point: Faramir.

In the midst of a complex scene in which Faramir reports that he had met Frodo, Denethor turns to him sharply:

“Your bearing is lowly in my presence, yet it is long since you turned from your own way at my counsel. See, you have spoken skillfully, as ever; but I, have I not seen your eyes fixed on Mithrandir, seeking whether you said well or too much? He has long had your heart in his keeping.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 4, “The Siege of Gondor”)

So Sauron has spotted two weak points in Denethor: a mistaken idea about his role in the governing of Gondor and his jealous attitude towards his younger son. This almost leads to Faramir’s death by burning and certainly does his father’s.

(Robert Chronister—about whom I have so far found nothing, although it’s clear that he’s illustrated more than one scene from The Lord of the Rings.)

Marcus Antonius, one of Julius Caesar’s right-hand men, has tricked Caesar’s assassins into letting him speak,

initially using language which they want to hear, but, just below the surface, and increasingly, as he proceeds, his word choice turns the mob listening to those same words into a force which will help to drive the assassins from Rome and, eventually, in the case of two of the main assassins, Brutus,

(This is a very famous coin pattern. On the obverse—the “heads”—we see what we presume is an image of Brutus, with the caption “Brut[us]” and his assertion that he has the state’s authority: “Imp[erator]”, along with the name of the mint master, “L[ucius] Plaet[orius] Cest[ianus]”. On the reverse—the “tails”—we see a shorthand version of the claim of the assassins: “Eid[ibus] Mar[tis]”—“on the ides of March”, plus two Roman “pugiones”—military daggers—bracketing a “liberty cap”—used in the ceremony of freeing a slave—hence: “On the Ides of March, I/we, by the use of these daggers, freed Rome from its slavery (to Caesar)” )

and Cassius,

(Unfortunately, we have no definite image of Cassius—this is a coin minted on his authority by his deputy, Marcus Servilius. The obverse has an image of “Libertas”, along with an abbreviated form of his name, “C[aius] Cassi[us]”, and that claim to have the authority of the state: “Imp[erator]”. The reverse has the name of his lieutenant, “M[arcus] Servilius”, his deputy rank “Leg[atus]” and what’s called an “aplustre”, which is the decorative stern of a Roman warship, thought to commemorate Cassius’ defeat of the navy of Rhodes.)

to defeat and suicide—Marcus Antonius’ ear-poison working very effectively.

For Middle-earth, there is a happier ending. The real goal of sending the Istari succeeds, even with the treachery of Saruman, brought about through the poison introduced and spread by Sauron through the palantiri, which affects Denethor, as well, teaching us that toxicity is just as deadly in word as it is in deed.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Lend no one your ears unless you’re clear what he/she wants,

And remember that, as ever, there’s

MTCIDC

By Ear (2)

14 Wednesday May 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Fantasy, Gandalf, Hamlet, Istari, Orthanc, Palantir, poison, Saruman, Sauron, Shakespeare, Theoden, Tolkien

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

In Part 1 of this posting, I began talking about ear poisons, beginning with the actual poisoning of Hamlet’s father by Hamlet’s uncle, Claudius, who, according to Hamlet’s father’s ghost:

“Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour, thy uncle stole

With juice of cursèd hebona in a vial,

And in the porches of my ears did pour

The lep’rous distilment…” (Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5)

But there are poisons just as potent which come in the form of poisonous words, as we began to see in Saruman’s attempts to win over Theoden,

(Francesco Amadio)

and, failing that, with Gandalf:

“Gandalf stirred, and looked up. ‘What have you to say that you did not say at our last meeting?’ he asked. ‘Or, perhaps, you have things to unsay?’ “

In their last meeting, Gandalf became Saruman’s prisoner in Orthanc—

(the Hildebrandts)

but the words which Saruman employed then were revealing, as Gandalf says, having listened to Saruman’s plea:

“A new Power is rising…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 aid it. 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. We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring maybe evils done by the way, 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. There need not be, there would not be, any real change in our designs, only in our means.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 2, “The Counsel of Elrond”)

When attempting to win over Theoden, Saruman had chosen words which suggested how much Saruman honored and respected him, defending himself from his own aggressive actions by saying that, if he had used violence against Rohan, so had Rohan used violence in the past, and now, together, he and Theoden could make peace—and therefore avoid what Saruman calls “the ruin that draws nigh inevitably”, even implying a bond between them, changing his former address from “you” to “we” and “our”—

“Shall we make our counsels together against evil days, and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates shall both come to fairer flower than ever before?”

When that hadn’t worked, Saruman had turned to Gandalf, at whom he had sneered only moments before, saying now that Gandalf had “a noble mind and eyes that look both deep and far”—in other words, attempting the same flattery which had failed with Theoden. And he tried the same kind of shift from “you” to “we” here:

“I fear that in my eagerness to persuade you, I lost patience. And indeed I regret it. For I bore you no ill-will; and even now I bear none, though you return to me in the company of the violent and the ignorant. How should I? Are we not both members of a high and ancient order, most excellent in Middle-earth?”

That word “order” reminds us of something which Gandalf had said to Frodo long before about Saruman:

“He is the chief of my order and the head of the Council…The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small, is his province.”

(Alan Lee)

And yet:

“I might perhaps have consulted [him], but something always held me back.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 2, “The Shadow of the Past”)

Gandalf has, then, long had doubts about Saruman, even though Saruman was head of that “order”.

But what, actually, was that “order”?

Recall, then, what Saruman has so far done:

1. he has turned Isengard into a miniature version of Mordor, ravaging the surrounding landscape

2. roused the Dunlendings to attack Rohan

3. created his own army of orcs—and perhaps done something worse to them than simply create them, if Treebeard’s thoughts are true (“Worse than that: he has been doing something to them; something dangerous…For these Isengarders are more like wicked men.” The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 4, “Treebeard”)

4. attacked Rohan and, in the process, Theoden’s son, Theodred, has been killed

5. not to mention that, when Gandalf has resisted his proposals, Saruman has imprisoned him

And so, how believable could anything Saruman says be? And yet he persists:

“Our friendship would profit us both alike. Much we could still accomplish together, to heal the disorders of the world. Let us understand one another, and dismiss from thought these lesser folk! Let them wait on our decisions! For the common good I am willing to redress the past, and to receive you. Will you not consult with me? Will you not come up?”

In other words, of everything which Saruman, as one of the Istari, has been sent to do, he has done the opposite—and persists, even when he has failed in his plans and is now a prisoner in his own domain.

(Carl Lundgren–you can read about him here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Lundgren_(illustrator) )

Yet his tone, for the moment, still has the remains of its ability to charm:

“So great was the power that Saruman exerted in this last effort that none that stood within hearing were unmoved. But now the spell was wholly different. They heard the gentle remonstrance of a kindly king with an erring but much-loved minister. But they were shut out, listening at a door to words not meant for them…”

Until—

“Then Gandalf laughed. The fantasy vanished like a puff of smoke.”

And what follows reveals not only why Gandalf declines the offer, but who Gandalf believes lies behind all of those empty words about “heal[ing] the disorders of the world” and “the common good” and, earlier, “knowledge, rule, order”—poisonous words when coming from the mouth of Saruman:

“I keep a clearer memory of your arguments, [says Gandalf] and deeds, than you suppose. When last I visited you, you were the jailor of Mordor, and there I was to be sent.”

Saruman’s reaction is predictable: each time he finds that his magic tones do not lull the listener, he falls into a rage, but, this time, there is something else mixed with it:

“A shadow passed over Saruman’s face; then it went deadly white. Before he could conceal it, they saw through the mask the anguish of a mind in doubt, loathing to stay and dreading to leave its refuge. For a second he hesitated, and no one breathed. Then he spoke, and his voice was shrill and cold. Pride and hate were conquering him.”

Pride and hate, but there is something more, as Gandalf warns him:

“ ‘Reasons for leaving you can see from your windows…

(Ted Nasmith)

Others will occur to your thought. Your servants are destroyed and scattered; your neighbors you have made your enemies; and you have cheated your new master, or tried to do so. When his eye turns hither, it will be the red eye of wrath.’ “

Gandalf snaps Saruman’s staff and, as if on-cue:

What this can be and how it figures in all of this poison will appear in the final part of this short series—

(the Hildebrandts)

As ever, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

Remember what Marcus Antonius says to the mob in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, “The evil that men do lives after them…” when he is supposedly only burying Caesar, not praising him…

And remember, as well, that there’s

MTCIDC,

By Ear (1)

07 Wednesday May 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Claudius, ear, Fantasy, Gandalf, Grima, Hamlet, henbane, lotr, Palantir, poison, Saruman, Theoden, Tolkien

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

No matter how often I read or see the play, I’m always struck by how multifacted Hamlet is—a revenge tragedy, a murder mystery, a psychological study, a ghost story, all in one (and probably more than this list besides). Tolkien was not a big fan of reading Shakespeare, but, seeing a performance in 1944, he wrote to his son, Christopher: “Plain news is on the airgraph [a form of letter photographed onto microfilm, shipped, then printed out at its destination—called “V-Mail” in the US—a useful background: https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/v-mail-photos/ ]; but the only event worth of talk was the performance of Hamlet which I had been to just before I wrote last. I was full of it then…It was a very good performance, with a young rather fierce Hamlet; it was played fast without cuts; and it came out as a very exciting play.” (letter to Christopher Tolkien, 28 July, 1944, Letters, 126)

That ghost story is the explanation for the murder mystery, the victim being Hamlet’s father, Hamlet Senior, and the murderer being his brother, Claudius, the ghost telling Hamlet:

“Sleeping within my orchard,

My custom always of the afternoon,

Upon my secure hour, thy uncle stole

With juice of cursèd hebona in a vial,

And in the porches of my ears did pour

The lep’rous distillment, whose effect

Holds such an enmity with blood of man

That swift as quicksilver it courses through

The natural gates and alleys of the body,

And with a sudden vigor it doth possess

And curd like eager droppings into milk

The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine,

And a most instant tetter barked about

Most lazarlike with vile and loathsome crust

All my smooth body.” (Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5 from the 2^nd Quarto, 1604—this is from my go-to Shakespeare internet site, which you can visit here: https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q2/scene/index.html )

“Hebona” has been argued about for years, some scholars, seeing what appears to be a linguistic similarity with “henbane”,

have suggested that, as the poison, and, seeing its effects, I’m not surprised:

“As a result of this distinct chemical and pharmacological profile, overdoses can result not only in delirium, but also severe anticholinergic syndrome, coma, respiratory paralysis, and death.” (see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toxidrome#Anticholinergic for lots more distressing symptoms on the way to the end—although some of the above description doesn’t appear to be present in such poisoning—“tetter” means a kind of skin eruption, which is why Hamlet Sr. uses“lazarlike”, meaning “leprous”. For more on other possible poisons, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hebenon And for more on Shakespeare’s drugs, see: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20140416-do-shakespeares-poisons-work )

One can see why Uncle Claudius uses the method he does: he’s assuming that, if all the poison is absorbed, there will be no outside traces, which is why Hamlet Senior says, “’Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard/A serpent stung me” (although, given the usual nature of bites, one might have thought that someone would have checked for a snake bite wound, suggesting that Claudius was already prepared with a quick explanation for what had happened to his brother—“it is given out” sounds like palace propaganda, doesn’t it?).

Hamlet’s father is poisoned through the ear with an actual toxic substance, whatever it was, and that supposedly left no trace of the crime, but, in Tolkien’s own work, we see another ear poison, which also leaves no obvious physical trace, being administered by this—

(the Hildebrandts)

but which is just as deadly—spiritually.

We know from Gandalf (and the chapter title) that Saruman has an unusual weapon:

“ ‘What’s the danger?’ asked Pippin. ‘Will he shoot at us, and pour fire out of the windows; or can he put a spell on us from a distance?’

‘The last is most likely, if you ride to his door with a light heart,’ said Gandalf…. ‘And Saruman has powers you do not guess: Beware of his voice!’ “ (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 10, “The Voice of Saruman”)

We then see that voice in operation:

“ ‘But come now,’ said the soft voice. ‘Two at least of you I know by name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks help or counsel here. But you, Theoden Lord of the Mark of Rohan, are declared by your noble devices, and still more by the fair countenance of the House of Eorl. O worthy son of Thengel the Thrice-renowned! Why have you not come before, and as a friend? Much have I desired to see you, mightiest king of western lands, and especially in these latter years, to save you from the unwise and evil counsels that beset you! Is it yet too late? Despite the injuries that have been done to me, in which the men of Rohan, alas! have had some part, still I would save you, and deliver you from the ruin that draws nigh inevitably, if you ride upon this road which you have taken. Indeed I alone can aid you now.’ “

The effect of this upon the Rohirrim is just what Saruman must have hoped for—and it underlines his method of address:

“The Riders stirred at first, murmuring with approval of the words of Saruman; and then they too were silent, as men spell-bound. It seemed to them that Gandalf had never spoken so fair and fittingly to their lord. Rough and proud now seemed all his dealings with Theoden. And over their hearts crept a shadow, the fear of a great danger: the end of the Mark in a darkness to which Gandalf was driving them, while Saruman stood beside a door of escape, holding it half open so that a ray of light came through…”

Saruman has, by:

1. addressing Theoden in a stately way, almost overdoing it with his “Lord”, “noble”, “fair”, “worthy”, “mightiest”, suggesting that he has only the greatest respect for him

2. mentioning the defeat of his ravaging army and the destruction of his mini-Mordor as if they were “wrongs” done to him, rather than the treasonous behavior they actually represented

3. threatening doom awaiting the Mark

4. offering himself as the only savior,

turns himself from the Sauron he aspires to be into the gentle, admiring friend, who, though he has been harmed, is still willing to be that friend—and, in fact, the only friend for Theoden. And, as the Rohirrim are meant to understand, this is all designed to be in contrast to Gandalf, that false savior.

(It’s clear that Saruman has been working to undercut Gandalf’s position in Rohan for some time previously: see Theoden’s original greeting to Gandalf—prompted—and poisoned—by Grima in The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”.)

(Alan Lee)

Eomer, seeing Theoden silent, hesitating, tries to intervene, only to have that Voice—angered, but quickly controlled, turn everything rightly said against him into the “you do it, too” argument:

“ ‘But my lord of Rohan, am I to be called a murderer, because valiant men have fallen in battle? If you go to war, needlessly, for I did not desire it, then men will be slain. But if I am a murderer on that account, then all the House of Eorl is stained with murder; for they have fought many wars, and assailed many who defied them.’ “

It’s not just Saruman’s voice that one should be wary of–he is so skilled in deception—or so he thinks–that he can try to use such a cheap argument, then turn it around into what is intended to sound like a reasonable proposal:

“ ‘Yet with some they have afterwards made peace, none the worse for being politic. I say, Theoden King: shall we have peace and friendship, you and I? It is ours to command.’ “

And notice how it’s now not “you”, but “we” and “ours”—any attack is being turned into “being politic” and not “you do it, too”, but “we all do it sometimes” and then we make peace and everything is fine.

Theoden’s response is not what Saruman expected, although, because Theoden had remained silent, we can imagine that Saruman was smiling quietly to himself in admiration of his own powers:

“ ‘We will have peace,’ said Theoden at last thickly and with an effort…’Yes, we will have peace,’ he said, now in a clear voice, ‘we will have peace, when you and all your works have perished—and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter of men’s hearts…When you hang from a gibbet at your own window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc…Turn elsewhither. But I fear your voice has lost its charm.”

(Ted Nasmith—another side of this excellent artist)

The magic of that voice still lingers for a moment:

“The Riders gazed up at Theoden like men startled out of dream. Harsh as an old raven’s their master’s voice sounded in their ears after the music of Saruman.”

But there is then a change in that music:

“But Saruman for a while was beside himself with wrath. He leaned over the rail as if he would simite the King with his staff. To some suddenly it seemed that they saw a snake coiling itself to strike.”

And Saruman becomes even more serpentine:

“ ‘Gibbets and crows!’ he hissed and they shuddered at the hideous change.’ “

Thwarted, we see him basically reverse his address to Theoden. Where before Theoden was “Lord”, “noble”, “fair”, “worthy”, “mightiest”, now he is “dotard” and his “noble”, “fair” family becomes “the house of Eorl…but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs”.

He isn’t quite finished, however—

“ ‘But you, Gandalf! For you at least I am grieved, feeling for your shame. How comes it that you can endure such company? For you are proud, Gandalf—and not without reason, having a noble mind and eyes that look both deep and far. Even now will you not listen to my counsel?’ “

Theoden’s eventual reply was bitter—and biting—but Gandalf’s reaction is of a different sort altogether—though it still has a sting:

“Gandalf stirred, and looked up. ‘What have you to say that you did not say at our last meeting?’ he asked. ‘Or, perhaps, you have things to unsay?’ “

That last meeting saw Gandalf Saruman’s prisoner on the top of Orthanc–

(the Hildebrandts)

but what was it which Saruman said, how was it put, and what or who might lie behind it, will be the subject of Part 2 of this posting.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

Remember that line from another Shakespeare play, “All that glisters is not gold”,

And also remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

Into the Fire

19 Wednesday Feb 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Tags

Aetius, Attila, Chalons, Denethor, Faramir, Gandalf, lotr, Middle-earth, Palantir, Pippin, Saruman, Sauron, Tolkien

As ever, welcome, dear readers.

I’ve always admired the way in which JRRT shows the slow descent of Denethor into darkness, from someone who rules Gondor

(Denis Gordeev)

as if he were its rightful king, accepting Pippin’s offer of allegiance,

(Douglas Beekman—a prolific sci-fi fantasy illustrator. You can see numbers of his illustrations here: https://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/ea.cgi?23068 This catalogue if from the Internet Speculative Fiction Data Base, a wonderfully rich site if you have an interest in sci-fi.)

to the pensive and grieving father,

(an Alan Lee sketch)

to the desperate madman of his last scene—

(artist? so far, I can’t locate one)

But that last scene has always impressed me as Tolkien at his dramatic best.

It begins with the setting:

“There Pippin, staring uneasily around him, saw that he was in a wide vaulted chamber, draped as it were with the great shadows that the little lantern threw upon its shrouded walls. And dimly to be seen were many rows of tables, carved of marble; and upon each table lay a sleeping form, hands folded, head pillowed upon stone. But one table near at hand stood broad and bare. Upon it at a sign from Denethor they laid Faramir and his father side by side, and covered them with one covering, and stood then with bowed heads as if mourners beside a bed of death.”

I think that we can imagine that JRRT’s image here is based upon any number of medieval English churches, with their tombs, usually along the walls, or,

more grandly, the basilica of St Denis, in a northern suburb of Paris,

of which he might have seen a photo. (As I haven’t found a reference that he had actually visited the place.)

What happens next, however, has a different model—or, rather, perhaps two.

After having himself and Faramir placed on that empty table, Denethor then makes the terrible command:

“ ‘Here we will wait,’ he said. ‘But send not for the embalmers. Bring us wood quick to burn, and lay it all about us, and beneath; and pour oil upon it. And when I bid you thrust in a torch.’ “ (all of the above from The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 4, “The Siege of Gondor”)

What’s going on here? When Gandalf, summoned by Pippin attempts to stop this, Gandalf says to Denethor:

“ ‘Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death,’…And only the heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death.’” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 7, “The Pyre of Denethor”)

“Heathen”, from Old English haethen, came into English with the meaning “non-believer (in Christianity)” and seems, at first, rather an odd word for Gandalf to have employed, as Tolkien has written himself that “…the ‘Third Age’ was not a Christian world.” (letter to the Houghton Mifflin Co., 30 June, 1955, Letters, 319)

I wonder, however, whether JRRT was remembering something from early medieval history, which he might have read in conjunction with his early avid study of Gothic (which almost ruined his academic career—see his letter to Christopher of 2 January, 1969 (Letters, 558).

It’s in the account by the 6^th-century Gothic historian, Jordanes, of the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains (also known as the Battle of Chalons), between Roman and their Germanic allies, including Visigoths, led by the Roman general, Aetius, and an invading army of Huns and their subject peoples, led by Attila, a battle fought on 20 June, 451.

(by Peter Dennis, one of my favorite contemporary military artists)

The battle was very much a back-and-forth affair, but late in it, the Huns had been driven back to their camp and Attila, usually the soul of confidence, was troubled–and this is where Jordanes’ description comes in:

Fertur autem desperatis rebus praedictum regem adhuc et suppraemo magnanimem equinis sellis construxisse pyram seseque, si adversarii inrumperent, flammis inicere voluisse, ne aut aliquis eius vulnere laetaretur aut in potestate hostium tantarum gentium dominus perveniret. (Jordanes, De Origine Actibusque Getarum, XL, 213—my translation)

“It is said, moreover, that things were [so] despaired of, that the king [that is, Attila] still supremely brave, commanded at this point that [they] build a pyre from horse saddles and, should the enemy break in [to his camp], he wished to throw himself into the flames lest either anyone take joy in wounding [him] or lest he, the master of so many peoples come into the power of the enemy.”

None of Attila’s kin is involved in this potential self-immolation, but certainly the pride is there and even despair (as in that “desperatis rebus”) which Gandalf mentions.

But, as I said earlier, there might be another model—and perhaps an even darker one. Notice that

“But one table near at hand stood broad and bare.”

What immediately came to mind was that it resembled an altar—not a Christian one, but something from a different world, in which the symbolic sacrifice of the Christian religion was a real sacrifice—

(artist unknown)

I thought of this because of something which Tolkien had written about Sauron, who has become the prisoner of the Numenorean king Tar-Calion:

“…and seduces the king and most of the lords and people with his lies. He denies the existence of God, saying that the One is a mere invention of the jealous Valar of the West, the oracle of their own wishes. The chief of the gods is he that dwells in the Void, who will conquer in the end, and in the void make endless realms for his servants…

A new religion, and worship of the Dark, with its temple under Sauron arises. The Faithful are persecuted and sacrificed.” (letter to Milton Waldman, late 9n 1951, Letters, 216)

Why, we might ask, is Denethor so prepared to make a fiery end to himself and his son?

“ ‘Come!’ said Gandalf. ‘We are needed. There is much that you can yet do.’

Then suddenly Denethor laughed. He stood up tall and proud again, and stepping swiftly back to the table he lifted from it the pillow on which his head had lain. Then coming to the doorway he drew aside the covering, and lo! he had between his hands a palantir. And as he held it up, it seemed to those that looked on that the globe began to glow with an inner flame, so that the lean face of the Lord was lit as with a red fire, and it seemed cut out of hard stone, sharp with black shadows, noble, proud, and terrible. His eyes glittered.

‘Pride and despair!’ he cried. ‘Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance. Go then and labour in healing! Go forth and fight! Vanity….The West has failed. It is time for all to depart who would not be slaves.”

And the answer is in that palantir. As it had earlier corrupted Saruman,

(the Hildebrandts)

and nearly driven Pippin mad with only one look into it, so it has shown Denethor exactly what Sauron had wanted him to see and, deluded, we might imagine that, in his action, he was not only destroying the current ruler of Gondor and his son, but was also acting like the Numenoreans who were his ancestors, making a sacrifice which Sauron had once demanded of them.

And, although Faramir is rescued, Denethor:

“…leaped upon the table, and standing wreathed in fire and smoke he took up the staff of his stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it on his knee. Casting the pieces into the blaze he bowed and laid himself on the table, clasping the palantir with both hands upon his breast. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had a great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering in flame.”

And so Sauron had his sacrifice.

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

Henchmen and Minions

30 Wednesday Oct 2019

Posted by Ollamh in Films and Music, J.R.R. Tolkien, Narrative Methods, Villains

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Tags

A History of Scotland, Albrecht Duerer, Alexandre Dumas, Cardinal Richelieu, Droids, druid, Emperor Palpatine, Flying Monkeys, gangster, Henchmen, Mignon, Neil Oliver, Odysseus, Orcs, Robin Hood, Saint Columba, Saruman, Sauron, Sheriff of Nottingham, Telemachus, The Lord of the Rings, The Three Musketeers, The Wizard of Oz, Tolkien, Winkie Guards

Welcome, dear readers, as ever.

A henchman was originally a hengestman, from hengest “horse/stallion” + man “man”—in other words, a groom, a servant who takes care of horses.

Although the word began with the meaning of “groom”, it has certainly changed over time and now it suggests something like “ thuggish follower”—like these gangster henchmen.

The word minion comes from the Old French word mignon, “a (little) darling”, but its meaning has also changed–even more than henchmen, now indicating a kind of low-level person who simply follows orders, which the peasants in this picture by Albrecht Duerer make us think of.

These words originally came to mind while we were watching the first episode of Neil Oliver’s excellent BBC series A History of Scotland. (Smart writing and wonderful photography.)

In the episode, a scene was reenacted, in which Saint Columba (521-597AD)

faces off against a Pictish druid.

(This is the closest we can come to an image of a druid. As far as we know, there are, in fact, no surviving images of the learned class of the Celtic world, just often very imaginative illustrations with little or no factual basis.)

In Adomnan’s (c.624-704AD) Life of Columba, Book II, Chapter XXXIV, Columba struggles to free a slave being held by the druid, Broichan.

The saint wins, of course, but what struck us about this story—and in this DVD depiction—was that it was a one-on-one contest: neither man called upon backup—something which one might especially expect from the antagonist of the story, as in so many. After all, we thought, just think of villains in all kinds of stories—

The Sheriff of Nottingham has his henchmen ready to try to capture Robin Hood at the famous archery contest.

Or, if you prefer—

The evil Cardinal Richelieu

has his guards

to fight the musketeers

in Alexandre Dumas’ The Three Musketeers.

The Wicked Witch of the West

has two sets of henchmen: the flying monkeys

which have been the terror of many childhoods, in our experience, and the Winkie Guards,

whose drum beat and deep chant always made us a little nervous when we were little (not to mention their skin color and odd noses).

Here’s a LINK, in case you’ve forgotten what they were like.

In a more modern story, the Separatists have so many droids,

as Emperor Palpatine has so many stormtroopers.

And, of course, Saruman

has so many orcs

as, along with all of his human minions, does Sauron.

We can imagine several reasons for such overwhelming force in these stories. For the protagonist/s, the more of the enemy there are, the more impressive their defeat, as when Odysseus faces so many suitors (over a hundred) with only his son, Telemachus, and a couple of servants to help him.

(And Athena, of course!)

For the antagonist/s, there is the sense that they are so powerful that they have only to command and vast numbers of henchmen will do their bidding.

At the same time, we wonder if, underneath all of that force, there is a basic insecurity, a feeling that “my power by itself is really not enough—I can’t do this alone”? After all, it’s not the Sheriff of Nottingham who faces Robin Hood in the 1938 film,

but the secondary character, Guy of Gisborne (played by Basil Rathbone, who was the first great film Sherlock Holmes).

The Wicked Witch of the West relies upon her monkeys and her guards and Saruman and Sauron upon their armies and none ever faces an opponent alone: for that matter, we never even see Sauron except as a shadow at his fall.

And perhaps that underlying insecurity has some roots in reality: the only antagonist who actually confronts the protagonist is a little too sure of himself and of his major henchman and we all know what happens next…

As always, thanks for reading and

MTCIDC, dear readers!

Hands Down

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by Ollamh in Films and Music, J.R.R. Tolkien, Military History of Middle-earth

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Tags

1984, Argonath, Barad-Dur, Big Brother, Eye of Sauron, Galadriel, Saruman, Sauron, The Ten Commandments (1956), Theatrical gesture, Uruk-hai, White Hand

As always, dear readers, welcome.

Recently, we quoted the leader of the Uruk-hai, Ugluk:

“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.” (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 3, “The Uruk-hai”)

That White Hand is, of course, Saruman’s

special badge (in our contemporary world, we might say that it was his “logo”), which we see for the first time on the shield of a dead orc:

“There were four goblin-soldiers of greater stature, swart, slant-eyed, with thick legs and large hands. They were armed with short broad-bladed swords, not with the curved scimitars usual with Orcs; and they had bows of yew, in length and shape like the bows of Men. Upon their shields they bore a strange device: a small white hand in the centre of a black field… (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 1, “The Departure of Boromir”)

We can imagine why Sauron has that red eye

for his emblem—fiery to indicate Sauron’s turbulent nature (and perhaps relation to Satan—another fallen angel/Maia), plus unblinking, to show that, like Big Brother,

he’s always watching—a fact rather broadly expressed in the Jackson films, where the eye has been turned into a searchlight—or, at best, a lighthouse beacon. (And yes, this is a Barad-dur desk lamp.)

But why does Saruman use a white hand? And which direction should it face? In the films, it seems to be applied upside down

which, to us seems like the wrong way up—besides being more difficult to apply as face paint. What is the meaning of the symbolic use of that hand?

This put us to thinking about hands in The Lord of the Rings in general. We considered the Ring on and off various hands and even those who lost a finger wearing it, but these all seemed rather passive and, thinking of what Ugluk says, we imagine Saruman’s hand as active. That being the case, the first prominent hand we could think of was that of the Barrow-wight:

“[Frodo] heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind of passage which behind them turned a corner Round the corner a long arm was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, and towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book One, Chapter 8, “Fog on the Barrow-downs”)

This is certainly a menacing thing and reminds us of something from the 1956 film, The Ten Commandments, where to indicate the deaths of the first-born of Egypt (from the Book of Exodus, Chapter 11, in the Hebrew Bible), the film makers showed viewers this—

a kind of spindly green hand, which can still creep us out as its function is to grasp things—in this case a sword which will be used to sacrifice the hobbits.

Our next hand—or hands–were those of Galadriel

when she takes Frodo and Sam to her Mirror and tells them about the struggle with Sauron:

“She lifted up her white arms and spread out her hands towards the East in a gesture of rejection and denial.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 7, “The Mirror of Galadriel”)

Long ago, we did a posting on that gesture, which comes right out of 19^th-century rhetorical and theatrical practice. As this plate illustrates, such gestures were stylized and memorized for their effect on the speaker’s platform, as well as the stage.

We were reminded of our final hands by Galadriel’s gesture: the Argonath,

described as:

“Upon great pedestals founded in the deep waters stood two great kings of stone: still with blurred eyes and crannied brows they frowned upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning; in each right hand there was an axe…” (The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter 9, “The Great River”)

So far, we’ve seen hands which grasp, hands which reject, and hands which warn and perhaps we can imagine that all of these might be part of the message of Saruman’s white hand. Saruman, in taking up the role of “Mini-Sauron”, has rejected the West he was sent to protect. In his desire to build his own empire, he has allied himself with Sauron and made war on Rohan, attempting to grasp more and more territory while sacrificing his honor and purpose as one of the Maiar. That he is not now what he seems to have been in the past should also be a warning of what he intends in the present and what, even maimed, he might be capable of in the future, as the Shire will learn when Saruman becomes Sharkey.

Is there more to this image? We wouldn’t be surprised: Sauron is intentionally kept off-stage, we believe to make him that much more menacing, so the real evil we see is, literally, in the hands of Saruman.

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

MTCIDC

doubtfulsea

~ adventure fantasy

Tag Archives: Saruman

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 3)

Do You Speak Villain? (2)

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 1)

A Moon disfigured

By Ear (3)

By Ear (2)

By Ear (1)

Into the Fire

Henchmen and Minions

Hands Down