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.

Towering

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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battering ram, Fantasy, Helm's Deep, Helms Deep, Hera, Hornburg, mangonel, movies, siege, siege tower, sieges, The Lord of the Rings, The War Of the Rohirrim, Tolkien, trebuchet, undermining, Wulf

Welcome, as always, dear readers.

This is another in a short series of mini-reviews of The War of the Rohirrim, a film which I’ve now, as is my custom, seen several times before I review it. It’s complex enough, I would say, to make it worth taking it apart and reviewing different sections/details–for another in the series, see: Heffalumps? 31 December, 2025. The previous review was about the introduction of a mumak into the story, for which there was no textual authority in the 2+ pages of the original in Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings and, on the same theme, I want to talk a little more about that earlier war.

If you were an ancient Roman

or medieval

soldier, and you were faced with an enemy’s wall,

you would have a number of options. The most dangerous would be to pick up a ladder and attempt to climb—an escalade–

as, after all, high on a ladder, exposed to the enemy above you and, with men climbing below you making it difficult to climb down, you would be in a very awkward position—so perhaps other choices would be preferable?

One possibility would be to dig under.

And here in this illustration we see two choices, really:

1. digging a tunnel all the way under the wall and popping out behind the defenders

2. undermining the wall: cutting away the ground below the wall, substituting wooden props for the missing ground, then setting fire to the props so that the wall above, lacking support, would come crashing down (or so you would hope) This worked at the siege of Rochester castle in AD1215, where it brought down a corner tower–

If, however, a wall had been built on a rocky base, as was sometimes the case, tunneling would not be a option.

Another choice: try battering the wall with a ram (or the gates—often the weakest point)

(Julius Caesar, in his commentaries on his campaigns in Gaul, used the image of battering to suggest that, although he was always inclined towards clemency, once one of his rams had touched an enemy’s town wall (in this case that of the Atuatuci) and those inside hadn’t surrendered–si prius quam murum aries attigisset se dedidissent—his clemency was at an end—and so was the town. See Caesar De Bello Gallico, Book II, Chapter XXXII (32) for the quotation, either in Latin here: https://www.thelatinlibrary.com/caesar/gall2.shtml or in English here: https://classics.mit.edu/Caesar/gallic.2.2.html Interesting to note that Caesar also describes the Roman use of a siege tower just before this—see Chapters XXX and XXXI.)

(Lincoln Renall—an artist who seems to be able to draw/paint anything—see more about his work here: https://lincoln.artstation.com/ )

or, if the wall isn’t stone, but mud brick, try prying the wall apart—the ancient Assyrians even seem to have had a device dedicated to it (sometimes captioned as a “battering ram”, but it employed a kind of chisel, rather than a ram).

You might try a stone-thrower of some sort, gradually breaking down the wall from above, like this mangonel–

or its big brother, the trebuchet.

(for an interesting video on trebuchets and the damage they can do, see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVO8VznqMeQ )

Then again, you could attempt to go over the wall with a siege tower, in what might be a safer manner than an escalade .

This is a machine made of wood, placed on rollers, built to approach a wall, but to be a little higher and, when it reaches the wall, a drawbridge is dropped and you and your companions rush across it, over the wall, and onto the walkway behind it, where, if your plan works, you then deal with the enemy soldiers there and move towards opening a gate below. Instead of climbing on a totally exposed ladder set against a hostile wall, then, you will climb on a ladder protected by the tower, safe until you reach that drawbridge. To further insure the attackers’ safety, the tower has to be rolled as close to the wall as possible and the drawbridge has to fall onto the wall so that the assault team (you) won’t be vulnerable for long in passing from the tower to the walkway, although, after that, you’re on your own. (The Atuatuci in Caesar’s narrative, first spot the tower from a distance and make fun of it, laughing at the idea that the Romans would build such a big thing so far away—until the Romans begin to move it closer and they stop laughing and talk surrender.)

We hear of such towers at the siege of Minas Tirith:

“Then perceiving that the valour of the city was already beaten down, the hidden Captain put forth his strength. Slowly the great siege-towers built in Osgiliath rolled forward through the dark.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 4, “The Siege of Gondor”)

Saruman’s forces at the siege of Helm’s Deep don’t appear to use them, however, having only ladders,

but of course they also have early gunpowder, or something like it.

At the earlier attack on Helm’s Deep, almost 200 years before, as realized in 2024’s The War of the Rohirrim, we see an earlier use of a siege tower. And here, as in the case of the mumak, this was created by the screen writers—there’s no mention of such a device in the brief summary of that earlier war which appears in The Lord of the Rings. (See The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, II “The House of Eorl”) The siege of Helm’s Deep went through a long winter (“November to March, 2758-9” says the text), but says nothing at all about anything but a kind of standoff, in which Rohan’s enemies lay outside the Hornburg and “Both the Rohirrim and their foes suffered grievously in the cold, and in the dearth which lasted longer.” And it lasted until:

“Soon after the winter broke. Then Frealaf, son of Hild, Helm’s sister, came down out of Dunharrow, to which many had fled, and with a small company of desperate men surprised Wulf in Meduseld and slew him, and regained Edoras. There were great floods after the snows, and the vale of Entwash became a vast fen. The Eastern invaders perished or withdrew and there came help at last from Gondor…Before the year (2759) was ended the Dunlendings were driven out, even from Isengard, and Frealaf became king.” (The Lord of the Rings, Appendix A, II “The House of Eorl”)

The film, however, has the siege continue while Wulf, the antagonist, commands the building of that siege tower—

(I apologize for the somewhat dim image—it’s a screen capture from the film, the best I can provide as this whole scene is very dark in the film.)

And the tower, as depicted, is hardly something of the sort created by Roman or medieval siege engineers, being tall and spindly—rickety might also be a useful term—with no protection at all for those inside. In fact, it is built in place, rather than rolled up to the wall, so that, when finished, it needs an enormously long drawbridge which it seems like the entire besieging army then attempts to cross at once, including horses—something no ancient or medieval soldier would do, as, first, the bridge might not be able to take such weight and movement and, second, the watching enemy would fill such a mass of men and horses full of arrows before it could even cross to the wall.

“Hera”, the protagonist, then confronts Wulf at first on that very drawbridge—and on horseback—

before finally killing him, rather improbably, with a shield, before standing back to see the besiegers fleeing from her cousin, Frealaf, coming like the cavalry in an old western.

(Frederick Remington)

As I’ve said before, I have nothing but praise for the hard work in making such a film, but look at what the script writers have done to Tolkien’s short text:

1. they employ a heroine plus several supporting characters, none of whom appears in JRRT’s text,

2. who then kills the main antagonist (who appears at the siege in the film when JRRT says that he’s back in Meduseld and is killed there)

3. after he attempts an assault via an impossible tower not mentioned in the narrative which Tolkien published.

As always, I approach films and books believing that those who create them are not out to cheat us, but to provide genuine entertainment and do so after long, hard labor, which clearly The War of the Rohirrim was. At the same time, I wonder about the honesty of making so many changes and additions to a text, then attaching it to the work of an author who, long dead, had no say in what was done and, in fact, had very strong feelings about others making changes to his work. With so many changes, it feels more like fan fiction, than the original, and, while I think fan fiction, if well-meaning, is a good tool for learning how to write, no one doing so should then attach the original author’s name to it. All one has to read are Tolkien’s comments on an earlier attempt at filming his work (see his letter to Forrest J. Ackerman, June, 1958, in Letters, 389-397 ) to imagine what Tolkien would say and the best I can say is that he would be both puzzled and probably very unhappy.

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

If not rickety towers, at least avoid rickety bridges,

And know that, as always, there’s

MTCDIC

Tolkien Among the Indians

21 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Dickon Among the Indians, Fantasy, Ghan-buri-Ghan, James Fenimore Cooper, Native Americans, On Fairy-Stories, Orcs, Sam Gamgee, The Last of the Mohicans, The Lord of the Rings, Thte Last of the Mohicans, Tolkien, William Morris, Wose

Welcome, as always, dear readers.

I’ve borrowed the title of this posting from a 1938 book by M.R. Harrington, Dickon Among the Lenape Indians (shortened for a reprint to Dickon Among the Indians),

a very interesting attempt to recreate the lives of Algonkian-speaking Native Americans in New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania at the beginning of colonization. (Harrington was fortunate in having local Native Americans to help him in his research. For more on Harrington, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Raymond_Harrington , himself a very interesting man. Please note, by the way, that, although I will use “Indians” occasionally in this piece, when appropriate, I commonly employ the now-standard “Native Americans”.)

The subject of early Native Americans is worth many postings in itself, but where does JRRT fit in?

Well, when you visualize Tolkien, what do you think of?

The schoolboy?

The 2^nd lieutenant?

The serious professor?

The man who loved trees?

Suppose, however, instead of military caps

or the shapeless thing we see on his head in later pictures,

we provide him with something as splendid as this—

(A recreation of a Lakota war headdress)

As a man obsessed (a radical term, perhaps, but really accurate, I would say) with language and languages, Tolkien had set himself a problem, when it came to his approach to The Lord of the Rings. It was meant to be a translation, and he himself the editor/translator. Although he would mix in bits of several languages he had invented, the main body of the text would be in English—but English would, in fact, substitute for what he called the “Common Speech”. And yet, because of his passion for language, he wouldn’t allow for complete uniformity of speech, especially as not everyone in his Middle-earth spoke the Common Speech as their first language. One possibility would be to approximate the Common Speech with marks for different accents—the speech of the Rohirrim, for instance, as speakers of what was actually a Germanic language (Old English), might be depicted with the effects of English-speaking Germanic speakers in Tolkien’s day. There was definitely a danger in this, of course—the effect is easily overdone and Tolkien would have been well aware of things like what was—and is—called “stage Irish” with lots of “sure an begorras! and “top of the mornin’s”, caricaturing, in fact, Anglo-Irish. As far as I know, JRRT never considered this approach (although we notice that Sam speaks in a different dialect from Frodo—imitated in the Jackson films by having him speak what in the UK is called “Mummershire”, based upon the distinctive sound of West Country English). Were there other possible models? And, if so, what might be useful? Consider the Orcs, for instance. As Pippin notices, to his surprise, he can understand the Orcs who have captured him and Merry because the first who speaks to him speaks “in the Common Speech, which he made almost as hideous as his own language.” (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 3, “The Uruk-hai”) The Orcs, then, although they use the Common Speech with outsiders, have their own distinctive language (actually languages, but use the Common Speech as their lingua franca—for more, see The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F, “Of Other Races”).

What, then, might Tolkien employ as a model for an Orc leader giving a speech, one which would be in the Common Speech, but yet distinctively Orcish—and yet not “stage Orchish”?

And here is where I suggest that Tolkien turned to his childhood reading and his interest in Native Americans—at least those he found in books.

If we go by something which he himself once remarked, perhaps this isn’t so far-fetched a theory as it might appear at first:

“I had very little desire to look for buried treasure or fight pirates, and Treasure Island left me cool. Red Indians were better: there were bows and arrows (I had and have wholly unsatisfied desire to shoot well with a bow), and strange languages, and glimpses of an archaic mode of life, and, above all, forests in such stories.” (On Fairy-Stories in The Monsters and the Critics, 134 For those who might like to see if they remain cool to Treasure Island, see https://archive.org/details/treasureisland00stev/mode/2up  with its beautiful illustrations by N.C. Wyeth—and, if you do open it, be sure to read the epigraph: “To the Hesitating Purchaser” as a kind of response to JRRT, although Tolkien would have been a toddler when Stevenson died in 1894.)

We know that William Morris (1834-1896)

was a strong influence on Tolkien’s writing, inspiring medieval elements in JRRT’s work, but there may have been another influence we can detect, which provided a model, using Tolkien’s “strange languages, and glimpses of an archaic mode of life” as a clue—at least for speech: the work of James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851), a once-famous author of historical fiction about the 18^th-century US, and, probably, the first author to present Native Americans to Tolkien.

So, how does an Orc leader speak?—sometimes collectively in a highly rhetorical fashion :

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

Compare it, then, with this:

“We came from the place where the sun is hid at night, over

great plains where the buffaloes live, until we reached the big

river. There we fought the Alligewi, till the ground was red with

their blood. From the banks of the big river to the shores of the

salt lake, there was none to meet us. The Maquas followed at a

distance. We said the country should be ours from the place

where the water runs up no longer on this stream, to a river

twenty suns’ journey toward the summer. The land we had

taken like warriors, we kept like men. We drove the Maquas

into the woods with the bears. They only tasted salt at

the licks; they drew no fish from the great lake; we threw them

the bones.”

This is Chingachgook, a Mohican (the last, in fact), speaking to another major character, Natty Bumpo, in James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans, 1826 (Chapter III—you can read the novel—again illustrated by N.C. Wyeth—here: https://dn720005.ca.archive.org/0/items/lastofmohicansna00coop/lastofmohicansna00coop.pdf I should add a small warning: Cooper is a man of his time and therefore racism slips in here and there. As well, he is not the world’s best prose stylist, but he was once a best-selling author and the first famous US novelist, so worth your time—and his basic story is still, as far as I’m concerned, a good one. For comic criticism of him, however, see Mark Twain’s “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offences”,1895, here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/3172/3172-h/3172-h.htm ).

And such a manner of speaking might be adapted to other “strange languages, and glimpses of an archaic mode of life”–

“ ‘Let Ghan-buri-Ghan finish!…More than one road he knows. He will lead you by road where no pits are, no gorgun walk, only Wild Men and beasts. Many paths were made when Stonehouse-folk were stronger. They carved hills as hunters carve beast-flesh. Wild Men think they ate stone for food. They went through Druadan to Rimmon with great wains. They go no longer. Road is forgotten, but not by Wild Men. Over hill and behind hill it lies still under grass and tree, there behind Rimmon and down to Din, and back at the end to Horse-men’s road. Wild Men will show you that road. Then you will kill gorgun and drive away bad dark with bright iron, and Wild Men can go back to sleep in the wild woods.” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 5, “The Ride of the Rohirrim”)

(the Hildebrandts)

This is, in fact, the chief of the Woses, an early people of Middle-earth now confined to a forest area not far from Minas Tirith. His home language (of which JRRT tells us very little) is clearly not the Common Speech and so his address to Theoden and his lieutenants follows that of Ugluk and, in fact, of Chingachgook, suggesting, once more by the use of the model provided long before by James Fenimore Cooper, that Tolkien has earned his own place “among the Indians”.

As ever, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

If someone from many centuries before the time of The Lord of the Rings, the chief Nazgul, speaks in what is meant to be an archaic dialect, what would Sauron, older yet, sound like?

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

Thin and Stretched

14 Wednesday Jan 2026

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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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

Heffalumps?

31 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Alexander, Dunlendings, elephant, Fantasy, Hannibal, Heffalumps, movies, Mumak, Perseus, Poros, Seleucus, The Lord of the Rings, The War Of the Rohirrim, the-war-of-the-rohrrim, Tolkien, Winnie the Pooh

Welcome, as always, dear readers.

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

‘Piglet, I have decided something.’

‘What have you decided, Pooh?’

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

Winnie-the-Pooh has just turned 100,

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

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

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

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

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

But why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Peter Dennis)

(Giuseppe Rava)

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

(Angus McBride)

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

(Peter Dennis)

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

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

(Giuseppe Rava)

something which even Tolkien mentions—

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

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

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

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

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

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

(from the Encyclopedia of Arda)

To which they might add:

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

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

(Ted Nasmith)

So, their reasoning goes:

1. some of the Corsairs were from Harad

2. Harad is where Mumakil come from

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

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

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

(Angus McBride)

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

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

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

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

(E.H. Shepard)

As always, thanks for reading.

Stay well,

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

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

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

On the Roads Again—Once More

10 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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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

(Not) Crossing Bridges

03 Wednesday Dec 2025

Posted by Ollamh in Uncategorized

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Anduin, Boromir, bridges, Etruscans, Horatius, Lars Porsena, Lays of Ancient Rome, Osgiliath, Tarquinius Superbus, The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien

Welcome, dear readers, as always.

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

(from the Encylopedia of Arda)

before our trip across the Anduin and beyond.

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

(John Howe)

(Encyclopedia of Arda)

but the bridge here is broken—

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

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

To their north was an older civilization, the Etruscans,

who were, culturally, a more sophisticated people.

They were also a more powerful military people

(Giuseppe Rava)

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

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

for help. Porsena marched on Rome—

(Peter Connolly)

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

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

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

(Richard Hook)

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

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

Lays of Ancient Rome (1842).

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

As a Victorian schoolboy, Tolkien

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

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

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

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

Stay well,

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

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

doubtfulsea

~ adventure fantasy

Tag Archives: The Lord of the Rings

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 3)

Do You Speak Villain? (2)

Do You Speak Villain? (Part 1)

Towering

Tolkien Among the Indians

Thin and Stretched

Heffalumps?

A Moon disfigured

On the Roads Again—Once More

(Not) Crossing Bridges