ECOLOGY, MYTHOLOGY AND HISTORIOGRAPHY IN THE WORKS OF J.R.R. TOLKIEN

THESIS SUBMITTED FOR THE AWARD OF THE DEGREE OF

Doctor of Philosophy In ENGLISH LITERATURE

By SUMAIYAH NAAZ Faculty No.: Ph.D.-370-EN Enrolment No.: GA 6654

Under the supervision of PROF. SEEMIN HASAN

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH ALIGARH MUSLIM UNIVERSITY ALIGARH - 202002 (INDIA) 2019

Professor Seemin Hasan Department of English Phone no.: 9837326553 Aligarh Muslim University Email: [email protected] Aligarh, 202002

Dated: ......

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This is to certify that the thesis entitled “Ecology, Mythology and

Historiography in the Works of J.R.R. Tolkien” submitted by

Sumaiyah Naaz in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the award of the Degree of Ph.D. in English Literature has been completed under my supervision. This is a result of her independent efforts.

Prof. Seemin Hasan

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I declare that I have faithfully acknowledged, given credit to and referred to the research workers wherever their works have been cited in the text and the body of the thesis. I further certify that I have not wilfully lifted up some other’s work, paragraph, text, data, result, etc. reported in the journals, books, magazines, reports, dissertations, theses, etc., or available at websites and included them in this Ph.D. thesis and cited as my own work.

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Department of English

A.M.U, Aligarh, 202002

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Title of the Thesis: Ecology, Mythology and Historiography in the Works of J.R.R.Tolkien

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Acknowledgements

Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar.

- J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit Thesis writing can often seem like an endless road that will never reach the journey’s end. But no journey is complete, no quest achieved, without the bonds of fellowship. There are many people whose support and encouragement were instrumental in helping me to complete my thesis and it is my privilege and pleasure to thank them.

I am indebted towards my supervisor Prof. Seemin Hasan, whose guidance and advice were indispensable to my research. Her observations and suggestions broadened my horizons, and her faith in me bolstered my confidence. I am grateful to the Chairperson, Department of English, AMU, Prof. Rizwan Khan, for his support regarding the official fulfilments of the thesis. I am also thankful to the Staff of the Office and Seminar Library of the Department of English, AMU, for all the help they have given to me.

No task can be completed without the reassurance of being loved and understood. My mother, Ms. Sabiha Naaz Lari, not only provided the comforts that saw me through the difficult days of research, but also remained a fellow-enthusiast in all my interests and endeavours. I owe thanks to Prof. Masud Anwar Alavi, whose words of encouragement always motivated me to do my best, and Naila Alavi, whose companionship was the best of interludes.

I have constantly been inspired by the conversations I have had with Syed Suhaib, Mariyam Ilyas Siddiqui and Shaiqa Shaukat and I am grateful to them for giving me their love and friendship.

Finally, my cats, Major Tom and Totoro, whose companionship kept me cheerful through the long nights before looming deadlines, have my deepest and fondest gratitude.

Sumaiyah Naaz

ECOLOGY, MYTHOLOGY AND HISTORIOGRAPHY IN THE WORKS OF J.R.R. TOLKIEN

ABSTRACT OF THE THESIS SUBMITTED FOR THE AWARD OF THE DEGREE OF

Doctor of Philosophy

In ENGLISH LITERATURE

By SUMAIYAH NAAZ Faculty No.: Ph.D.-370-EN Enrolment No.: GA 6654

Under the supervision of PROF. SEEMIN HASAN

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH ALIGARH MUSLIM UNIVERSITY ALIGARH-202002 (INDIA) 2019 Abstract

Ecology, Mythology and Historiography

in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien is best known as the author of three of his most famous works of high fantasy, The Silmarillion, The Hobbit and . Apart from his identity as one of the most beloved and influential writers of fantasy fiction, Tolkien was also a university professor and accomplished philologist. His literary career spans many decades, throughout which he meticulously composed and formulated his elaborate and interconnected body of work that would come to be known in its entirety as his legendarium. Tolkien’s legendarium is a product of his mythopoeic sub- creation, an imaginative and inventive process that led to the conception of a secondary world that exists within his and serves as a setting for his narratives. Tolkien used mythical and tropes to weave the fabric of his secondary world. His intention to create a mythology arising from and typical to English culture is realised in the historical consciousness inherent in his fictional construction. One of the most important themes in Tolkien’s narratives is his representation of nature in terms of its place within the material and ideological society of his mythopoeia. This thesis is an exploration of Tolkien’s works, particularly his three major novels, in light of the mythological and historical elements within them and through an ecocritical perspective.

Tolkien’s desire to create a fictional mythology arose from his philological interests. From an early age he was engaged with the creation of artificial or constructed . With this came the impulse to assign a cultural framework, for the expression of these languages, in the form of a fantasy world with a rich and diverse social structure. Tolkien’s interests in ancient mythologies and cultures led him to the use of tropes and motifs inherent in mythical narratives, in formulating his own mythopoeia. He drew inspiration from various real world mythologies such as Germanic and Norse traditions, as well as medieval and Biblical sources. His Christian faith, in particular, influenced the design of the moral landscape of his secondary world. Tolkien populated his fictional universe with a plethora of races and species, each exhibiting their own unique set of

1 characteristics and distinct cultural identities. The Silmarillion is a culmination of Tolkien’s life-long undertaking of creating a mythology, complete with cosmological and religious complexity. It contains creation myths, eschatological beliefs, descriptions of a rich pantheon of gods and goddesses, as well as epic narratives that illustrate an intermingling of mythical, historical and fantasy elements. Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings narrate tales that use the mythical framework outlined in The Silmarillion as a backdrop. They are adventure stories that are structured as quest narratives that merge the mythical with the familiar and disseminate Tolkien’s thematic concerns through a fantasy narrative. The stories set within the mythopoeic world of Tolkien stretch through a period of mythic time that is meant to be identified as the fictional past of the real world. Tolkien’s attempts to link the real or primary world with the secondary world of his stories involve the adoption of various conceits and techniques that create the impression of a feigned history. This imbues his texts with a historical consciousness that makes a historiographical analysis of them appropriate, in spite of their not being concerned with real history or fact. This thesis studies Tolkien’s works with reference to the historical imagination that contributed to the creative process of the author and enabled him to successfully imitate real world mythologies.

This study contains an examination of Tolkien’s themes specially in context of their relationship with his personal environmental ethic. Tolkien’s love for nature greatly influenced the moral and social concerns in his narratives. One of the most remarkable aspects of Tolkien’s secondary world construction is how he uses morality derived from the values of the natural world to govern the design of his socio-political landscape. Good and evil are identified in terms of their relationship with and treatment of nature. In The Silmarillion this is illustrated in the binary of order and chaos in the natural world that is expressed in mythical terms through interactions between different forces representing good and evil. Nature is intertwined with the basic myths of Tolkien’s secondary world. Myths of the land develop in tandem with the myths concerning the races and individual characters, and Middle-earth, the land itself, becomes a principal character in the overarching narrative of the legendarium. In The Hobbit, with its identification of natural community with idealized Englishness, the concept of home; in its various forms and definitions, is revealed as a major element . The theme of greed and covetousness as the

2 most potently destructive force is recurrent in Tolkien’s works. The lust for power, whether through the acquisition of material wealth or the forceful seizing of socio- political control, is seen in direct opposition to a morality built through a sense of harmony and communion with the natural world. This theme, present in The Hobbit, is further expanded in The Lord of the Rings. The most famous of Tolkien’s works, it exhibits the best of his literary talents and realizes his environmental themes with the greatest complexity. Characters in Tolkien’s stories assume the role of guardians and preservers of nature, or destroyers of it. This establishes their position within the all- encompassing metanarrative concerns of good and evil in the legendarium.

Tolkien was deeply opposed to unchecked industrialisation and mechanisation that augmented the horrors of war and led to the exploitation and destruction of the natural world. In his narratives, he expresses this opposition by assigning nature and its allies to the realm of good, and the machines of industrialization and war to the realm of evil. Ecocriticism is a theory with moral and political underpinnings, especially in context of the current ecological problems of the real world. Applied to Tolkien’s works, it identifies in them a strain of environmentalism and conservationism that dictates the narrative threads of the plot. The effects of the characters’ moral decisions are felt upon the land, which acquires the characteristics of those that inhabit it. This thesis studies the various kinds of lands described in the works of Tolkien in association with the races that live in them. Race within Tolkien, is expressed through the fantasy mode in the form of various imaginary creatures, both humanoid and bestial. Nature plays an important role in determining the positions of individuals and races within Middle-earth community. Their relationship with each other and the land, defines the social hierarchy of the races. Racial politics is one of the most important aspects of the narrative. It is tied to the fundamental ethical concerns which underlie the theme of good versus evil within the plot.

The entire body of Tolkien’s legendarium demonstrates his genius in sub-creative mythmaking. There is immense complexity and attention to detail in the numerous stories that span his mythopoeic universe. This complexity can be observed both on narrative and thematic levels. In spite of the dense and intricate mythic construction, Tolkien’s works maintain a sense of familiarity that contributes to their widespread appeal. He

3 utilizes established tropes and archetypes of fantasy and mythic fiction, reinvigorating them with his own brand of imaginative creation, and in the process becoming one of the major proponents of the genre. His themes are of a nature and explore ethical concerns common to human life. This thesis attempts to explore these fundamental themes in Tolkein’s works and identify their literary, as well as, socio-political relevance.

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16

Contents

Chapter 1 Introduction 1 - 22

Chapter 2 “In the Deeps of Time and in the midst

of the innumerable stars”: The Silmarillion 23 - 64

Chapter 3 “Under the Hill and over the Hill”: The Hobbit 65 - 112

Chapter 4 “Where many paths and errands meet”: The Lord

of the Rings 113 - 172

Chapter 5 Conclusion 173 - 182

Bibliography 183 - 194

Chapter 1

Introduction

Chapter 1

Introduction

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;

And as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name. (124)

William Shakespeare

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity ... and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself. (62)

William Blake

Imagination is the fount of all of humanity’s creative endeavours. The infinite ability of the human mind to create ideas and images, springs forth from the realm of imagination and imaginative experience is as relevant to the artist’s act of creation as is practical experience. Literatures of imagination, particularly those that deal with the fantastic and the sub-creative, envision a world which though removed from the spheres of what is considered ‘real’ and transplanted into an imagined reality; mirrors the socio- political concerns of the real world rather than being distanced from them. Fantasy as a genre then becomes a canvas upon which the real and the imagined merge together to create a picture that superimposes upon the facts of real-life experiences; fantastic imagery that contextualizes those experiences. This thesis is a study of the works of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, who is widely considered one of the proponents of the modern

1 fantasy genre and especially the father of high fantasy. My choice of subject, besides arising from an academic interest in Tolkien’s writings, was also a personal one. My interest in fantasy fiction came at an early age through the writings of Enid Blyton, Lewis Caroll, J.M. Barrie, J.K. Rowling and many others. I was also deeply interested in the science fantasy of George Lucas’ Star Wars film series. As a child, the works of Rowling and Lucas in particular, left me with a lasting fascination with the tropes and themes inherent in their narratives. The courageous young hero, the wise old wizard, the loyal friend, the righteous quest and the universal struggle between good and evil – all stimulated my imagination in a way that no realistic fiction ever had. This was before the time that I was aware of Tolkien’s creative influence upon both Rowling and Lucas. When Peter Jackson released his trilogy of films based upon The Lord of the Rings from 2001 to 2003, I was, with the rest of the world propelled into the world of Tolkien’s imagination and became aware of how it contained all the themes and elements I loved best in fiction. This naturally led to the reading of the original source – The Lord of the Rings novel and later The Hobbit. Though with this thesis I have forayed into an academic understanding of Tolkien, I consider myself first and foremost an ardent admirer of his works on a personal level; and therefore must be careful of any bias entering into my analysis. Nevertheless, for this study I have chosen three aspects of Tolkien’s writings which, in my opinion, represent the best of his creative talents and philosophical concerns. These are his sub-creative mythmaking, the historical imagination in his created mythology and most importantly; his environmental vision.

Myths have been part of human imagination and culture since ancient times. They operate in a mode that is a mixture of the familiar and the fantastic. They merge history with an imagined reality to create a space inhabited by the products of fantasy. Fantasy has therefore existed as a genre in artistic expression since pre-history. Early humans painted what they saw of the world around them on the walls of caves, however they depicted not only what was seen but also what was imagined. Ancient myths and legends, which belonged to the earliest belief systems of human communities, were expressed in fantastic imagery. Oral traditions consisted of tales about supernatural and otherworldly creatures. The advent of written language and literature gave form to ancient mythologies. The Greco-Roman epics of Homer and Virgil and the Icelandic and Norse

2 sagas, with their detailed religio-mythic narratives, and collections of fantasy tales from Eastern traditions, such as the Indian Panchatantra and the Middle Eastern One Thousand and One Nights; have continued to exercise considerable influence upon the tropes of Western fantasy literature. During the Middle Ages chivalric romances and quest narratives which pitted the hero against fantastic creatures like fire-breathing dragons became popular. The Renaissance saw an increased interest in mythological writings, and fantasy and fairy tales were embraced as important elements in literary fiction. Sir Thomas Malory published his Le Morte d'Arthur in the late 15th century, compiling and reworking earlier accounts of the Arthurian legends. Works such as John Milton’s Paradise Lost and Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus incorporated Biblical myths in their narratives. William Shakespeare, in plays like A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest, explored the world of faerie and magic. Fantasy literature lost favour during the Age of Enlightenment with its commitment to realism and rationality. The Romantic era however emphasized the role of the imagination in creative expression and saw resurgence in popularity of the genre. The Grimm Brothers published their collection of fairy tales in 1812. Fantastical elements can be found in the poetry of the age, such as the dream-visions of Coleridge or the mythological landscapes of Keats. The modern concept of fantasy fiction emerged in Victorian literature with the writings of George MacDonald and William Morris. Various classics of children’s fantasy literature such as, Lewis Caroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, E. Nesbit’s Five Children and It and J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan were written during this period. The 20th century saw a boom in fantasy writings and they began to be considered part of the canon of serious literature. The works of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were integral in popularizing fantasy fiction that appealed to both children and adults. In recent years fantasy literature has grown significantly both in terms of content and popularity. Writers such as Ursula K. Le Guin, Terry Pratchett, J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, George R.R. Martin and others have continued to explore and expand the genre.

Fantasy and myth, as artistic expressions, draw upon the deepest impulses of the human mind. The reason why mythical imagination is at the core of most religious belief systems is because of its ability to communicate through a of symbols

3 and archetypes. Myths are present in the cultural and literary traditions of almost all human civilizations that can trace their roots to ancient times and they have continued to influence subsequent literary and socio-political discourse. Therefore, apart from their use in literature, the study of myths and mythology as an academic discipline emerged. Jacob Grimm published his exhaustive work on Germanic mythology, the Deutsche Mythologie in 1835. Anthropologist Sir James George Frazer’s The Golden Bough, published in 1890, discussed religious myths as arising from the practice of magical rituals based upon a false understanding of natural laws that were in turn ascribed to divine powers in the form of gods and goddesses. Psychoanalysts Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung interpreted myths as reflective of fundamental, unconscious aspects of the human psyche. Conversely, Claude Lévi-Strauss developed the structuralist theory of mythology, which applies the structuralist methodology used to study language upon mythology, and views myths as structural units that exist in the mind, which are manifest across individuals and cultures and occur in polar oppositions such as good and evil. Post-structuralist approaches to myths began to study them in terms of their representation in culture. Roland Barthes in his Mythologies defines myth as “a type of speech” (108). He elaborates –

Myth is a system of communication, that it is a message. This allows one to perceive that myth cannot possibly be an object, a concept, or an idea; it is a mode of signification, a form. Later, we shall have to assign to this form historical limits, conditions of use, and reintroduce society into it: we must nevertheless first describe it as a form. (108)

Mythical speech, in Barthes’ view, therefore naturalizes the intent and ideology of the narrator of the myth. In this perspective mythmaking is a process of using mythical language to propagate certain ideas, be it in traditional mythologies like those of religion or the more modern mythologizing in all forms of art. Northrop Frye’s third essay in his Anatomy of Criticism titled ‘Archetypal Criticism: Theory of Myths’, defines the world of myth as –

An abstract or purely literary world of fictional and thematic design, unaffected by canons of plausible adaptation to familiar experience. In terms of narrative,

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myth is the imitation of actions near or at the conceivable limits of desire ... The world of mythical imagery is ... a world of total metaphor, in which everything is potentially identical with everything else, as though it were all inside a single infinite body. (136)

Frye’s idea of myth as the primary source of literary invention places it in an inescapable relationship with literature. The question then is about the role myths play in the lives of human beings and how this role is reflected in the literature produced by them. Robert Graves outlines two main functions of myth –

The first is to answer the sort of awkward questions that children ask, such as: ‘Who made the world? How will it end? Who was the first man? Where do souls go after death?’ ... The second function of myth is to justify an existing social system and account for traditional rites and customs. (v)

Myths therefore deal with the cosmogonic and eschatological on one hand and the political and cultural on the other. Together these elements combine to form an ideology that is reflected in a particular religious belief system in traditional mythology. Other forms of mythical writings imitate this structure, in part or as a whole, to create fictional mythologies. This process of mythmaking is called mythopoeia. This term, which also refers to the narrative genre to which such works belong, had been used before to refer to mythmaking but was popularized in its present meaning by Tolkien. Significant portions of fantasy writing, particularly those which incorporate secondary world creation, belong to the genre of mythopoeia.

Tolkien taught at the Oxford University, first as the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Pembroke College from 1925 to 1945, and then the Merton Professor of English Language and Literature at Merton College from 1945 to 1959. One of Tolkien’s regular activities while at Oxford was his involvement with the Inklings. It was a literary discussion group composed of Oxford academics like Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams and others who met regularly at Lewis’ Magdalen College rooms or in the local pub The Eagle and the Child to read their own works and discuss various literary ideas. In 1931 Tolkien wrote the poem ‘Mythopoeia’. It culminated from a

5 discussion he had with fellow Inkling Lewis concerning the nature of myths. Lewis believed that myths, though artistically and thematically important, were essentially lies. Tolkien disagreed with this view and argued that myths spring from the imagination which is bestowed upon the human mind by God and therefore must essentially contain truth. He believed that “legends and myths are largely made of ‘truth’, and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear” (Tolkien, Letters 147). The idea is that myths contain universal truths that are expressed not only within factual narratives but also through traditional accounts like myths, legends and fairy tales. Humphrey Carpenter records the discussion between Tolkien and Lewis in his book The Inklings. He elaborates upon Tolkien’s opinions –

In making a myth, in practising ‘mythopoeia’ and peopling the world with elves and dragons and goblins, a storyteller, or ‘sub-creator’ as Tolkien liked to call such a person, is actually fulfilling God's purpose, and reflecting a splintered fragment of the true light. Pagan myths are therefore never just ‘lies’: there is always something of the truth in them. (43)

Tolkien in his poem ‘Mythopoeia’ writes –

Man, Sub-creator, the refracted Light

through whom is splintered from a single White

to many hues, and endlessly combined

in living shapes that move from mind to mind. (Tales 369)

Tolkien has recurrently used light as a powerful motif in his mythology to express the idea of creation. Light acts as a symbol for the process of sub-creation. The human being’s ability to imagine and produce ideas and images are therefore seen as a reproduction of the fundamental matter in the mind, bestowed upon it by God. Tolkien’s deep religiosity interprets artistic creativity through the metaphor of a prism that does not create but rather refracts already existing light, the original source of which is God. The creation of myths is hence a godly activity in its imitation of Divine Creation. Tolkien

6 was a devout Roman Catholic and his literary principles were informed by his religious ideology. Sub-creation, which is the basis of his mythopoeic universe, is then viewed by him as not just a literary endeavour but a fundamentally religious undertaking. The Biblical idea of Man being made in the image of God extends to the most primary quality of godhood; that of creation. Tolkien’s essay On Fairy-Stories, which was first delivered in 1939 at the University of St Andrews as the Andrew Lang lecture and later published in 1947, delves extensively into Tolkien’s ideas regarding sub-creation, myth-making and fairy stories. Sub-creation was for Tolkien a manifestation of the imagination, an artistic expression of the images existing in the mind that are given form through language. In On-Fairy Stories, he writes –

The mental power of image-making is one thing, or aspect; and it should appropriately be called Imagination. The perception of the image, the grasp of its implications, and the control, which are necessary to a successful expression, may vary in vividness and strength: but this is a difference of degree in Imagination, not a difference in kind. The achievement of the expression, which gives (or seems to give) ‘the inner consistency of reality’, is indeed another thing, or aspect, needing another name: Art, the operative link between Imagination and the final result, Sub-creation. (Tolkien, Tales 361-362)

Tolkien expresses a similar sentiment in his short story Leaf by Niggle. The protagonist Niggle is like Tolkien a sub-creator who is endeavouring to paint a tree that exists within his imagination. The tree remains unfinished until his death but it is discovered in the afterlife that the sub-created tree is a part of God’s primary creation itself. Therefore in Tolkien’s view sub-creation is the fulfilment of God’s creative vision and the human sub- creator thus becomes an instrument of God’s will.

According to Tolkien the definition of fairy stories cannot be narrowed down to their common understanding as stories about fairies – diminutive beings that flit about in gardens and hide inside flowers. Faerie is in fact a mode, a type of story, which is concerned with a variety of elements and its qualification as a fairy story depends less upon its subject matter and more upon its treatment of the elements within it. Tolkien writes –

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Faërie contains many things besides elves and fays, and besides dwarfs, witches, trolls, giants, or dragons: it holds the seas, the sun, the moon, the sky; and the earth, and all things that are in it: tree and bird, water and stone, wine and bread, and ourselves, mortal men, when we are enchanted. (Tales 322)

Tolkien created his legendarium – a word used for the entire body of his interconnected universe – to include all manner of tales, from great mythic narratives to intimate everyday stories. He executes the conventions of fantasy literature in his writings in a way that combines the mythical universe with that of fairy-tales and folklore. His mythopoeia includes creation myths which outline in mythical language the origins of the material world and describe a rich pantheon which has characteristics that are a mixture of pagan and Christian ideals. The conception of Tolkien’s legendarium arose from a desire to create a mythology for England. He recognized that English culture was lacking in a mythology like Greek, Celtic, Germanic, Scandinavian, and Finnish mythologies. Arthurian legends provided some manner of mythical background; however they were associated more with British culture rather than English culture specifically. Tolkien also did not believe that the obvious Christian themes of the Arthurian tales qualified them as traditional mythical narratives in the vein of other European mythologies. In a letter to Milton Waldman he writes that, “Myth and fairy-story must, as all art, reflect and contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth (or error), but not explicit, not in the known form of the primary ‘real’ world” (Tolkien, Letters 144). Tolkien’s legendarium, though built upon Christian principles, does not display obvious religiosity. Rather it uses these principles to create a moral framework which is used as a touchstone to shape the society of his secondary world. In Tolkien’s desire to craft a mythology specifically for England can be seen a strain of the earlier Romantic nationalism which derived legitimacy from a shared language and culture. The Brothers Grimm collection of fairy tales was a product of Romantic nationalism as it arose from the belief that fairy tales represent an unchanged aspect of culture that has been handed down from an ancient, shared past. When Beowulf was rediscovered as a single manuscript and transcribed in 1818, it was hailed as a national epic. The idea that a culture shared a primordial past, cosmogonic and eschatological beliefs, beyond the relatively recent Abrahamic traditions, rooted that culture in a sense of unified belonging. It is what constitutes a

8 particular ethnie, which Anthony D. Smith in Myths and Memories of the Nation defines as –

A named human population with myths of common ancestry, shared historical memories and one or more common elements of culture, including an association with a homeland, and some degree of solidarity, at least among the elites. (13)

Tolkien, himself a scholar of Anglo-Saxon literature and an admirer of that period of culture in English history, was reaching towards a particular ideal of Englishness in the creation of his legendarium. By populating his secondary world with aspects of myth, language, geographical identity and racial and ethnic diversity he created a sub-creative universe that was meant to represent the mythical past of England.

Tolkien’s belief that sub-creation of a secondary world is inspired by Divine Creation is expressed in his assertion that his narratives were a form of reporting rather than simple invention. In a letter to Milton Waldman, Tolkien wrote about the nature of his stories that “They arose in my mind as ‘given’ things, and as they came, separately, so too the links grew ... I had the sense of recording what was already ‘there’, somewhere: not of ‘inventing’” (Letters 145). Later in a letter to W.H. Auden he wrote –

I daresay something had been going on in the ‘unconscious’ for some time, and that accounts for my feeling throughout, especially when stuck, that I was not inventing but reporting (imperfectly) and had at times to wait till ‘what really happened’ came through. (Letters 212)

The impression of authenticity in Tolkien’s legendarium as an artificial mythology of England is then not just an authorial conceit deliberately constructed, but arose organically from the mind of the author himself. It can be said that Tolkien was inspired by a sense of historical imagination. The historicity of his texts is second only to their fantastical and mythical nature. When analyzing Tolkien’s works historiographically it is important to understand that one is dealing with a feigned history and the process of writing that history, unlike traditional historical accounts, is not through multiple sources but through a single source; the author, who makes a deliberate attempt to give the impression of multiple sources. Tolkien has throughout his narratives used various

9 methods to present his writings as historical fact one of which is portraying himself as a narrator and recorder of real events rather than their original creator. By using myths as the primary mode of his narratives Tolkien imbues in his writings a sense of a pre- historical past – one that is recorded not through formal historical accounts but through myths, legends and folktales. The relationship between myth and history is a complex one. The intertwining of religion with mythology further complicates this relationship, as religious myths, regardless of concrete evidence, are often regarded as historical fact by the communities with which they are associated. Today large portions of the world’s population view the stories contained within religious texts as undisputed history, including the magical and supernatural elements. Similarly ancient mythologies were viewed in a similar light by the civilizations in which they were practiced as religious beliefs. Mary Lefkowitz in her essay ‘Historiography and Myth’ writes –

Despite their remoteness in time and their references to places which no one had ever seen, as long as they believed in the existence of the gods, they were not prepared to accept that myths, even when unrealistic, were without serious value. Thus myth in antiquity could not have the meaning that it has since acquired, of a narrative that is purely fictional or fanciful, as distinct from historiography. (353)

Therefore mythology, in ancient times, was treated as a kind of historical writing that, in the absence of scientific knowledge particularly, gave people information about the origins of the world and all that was contained within it. The question however arises that, keeping aside religion, do myths contain some semblance of historical value or are completely devoid of it and may be dismissed as simple fictional fancy. This recalls Tolkien’s discussion with Lewis regarding myths as lies or truth. Hayden White in his Metahistory argues that pitting history against myth to judge the realism contained within a particular text presents the problem of ignoring various facets of both history and myth which prove contrary to their commonly accepted definitions. He writes –

The whole discussion of the nature of “realism” in literature flounders in the failure to assess critically what a genuinely “historical” conception of “reality” consists of. The usual tactic is to set the “historical” over against the “mythical,” as if the former were genuinely empirical and the latter were nothing but

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conceptual, and then to locate the realm of the “Active” between the two poles. Literature is then viewed as being more or less realistic, depending upon the ratio of empirical to conceptual elements contained within it. (White 3)

The struggle is then between the empirical nature of history and the conceptual nature of myth. The belief in the fixedness of their particular natures must be challenged and both history and myth revaluated in terms of their relationship with truth. It is often said that history is written by the victors and must be carefully evaluated and judged. The reliability of recorded history is always in question. Especially before the advent of the internet and other forms of mass media, historiographical production was largely in the hands of a privileged few who were associated with authority. Much of what was perceived rather than known, and propaganda as opposed to fact, has been known to have crept into many historical accounts. Myth has a similar relationship with truth, except at the opposite end of the spectrum. While it is essentially composed of fictional narratives, it imbibes much of the historical consciousness of the time and place in which it was written. It is particularly an important and accurate source of the language and culture of the civilization with which it is associated. A mythical legacy becomes an important aspect of the value of a culture from which a sense of identity is derived, much in the way it is derived from history. In fact in The Birth of Tragedy, Friedrich Nietzsche argues for the precedence of the mythical over the historical. He writes –

It may be claimed that a nation, like an individual, is valuable only insofar as it is able to give to everyday experience the stamp of the eternal. Only by doing so can it express its profound, if unconscious, conviction of the relativity of time and the metaphysical meaning of life. The opposite happens when a nation begins to view itself historically and to demolish the mythical bulwarks that surround it. (139)

Nietzsche views the value that a mythical consciousness imparts upon society as diametrically opposite to the value of a historical consciousness; however it can be argued that they are related in their connection with the past. Both draw from the past and derive from it a sense of belonging within a culture. In mythopoeic writings like Tolkien’s, this sense of belonging is duplicated by embracing an historical imagination that informs the creation of the secondary world in the narrative.

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In the construction of his secondary world Tolkien very obviously meant for Middle-earth to be the geographical and historical past of our present day Earth. He was fascinated by the intermingling of history and myth within narratives. Writing about C.S. Lewis’ Out of the Silent Planet he said that he “found the blend of vera historia with mythos irresistible” (Tolkien, Letters 33). He has, to a certain degree, been able to correlate various aspects of Middle-earth geography and culture with real world counterparts. Tolkien extensively drew maps of his secondary world which superimposed upon the real world map of Europe reveal various geographical parallels, such as roughly placing the Shire in the same region as England. At the same time he also recognized the limitations of such parallels within the fictional mode. In a letter Tolkien wrote –

As for the shape of the world of the Third Age, I am afraid that was devised ‘dramatically’ rather than geologically, or paleontologically. I do sometimes wish that I had made some sort of agreement between the imaginations or theories of the geologists and my map a little more possible. But that would only have made more trouble with human history. (Letters 224)

Tolkien’s intention was not to create direct cultural parallels; however various racial identities within his narratives represent cultural and historic aspects of the real world. By using devices of historiographical writings in his works such as maps and genealogical tables, he instils a sense of historicity in his writings. Tolkien further emphasizes the authenticity of his secondary world by supplying it with a sizeable amount of philological information. Time within the legendarium is measured and recorded and calendars are used with dates being consistently noted for all important events. Apart from the main stories he includes appendices which give additional information about the internal history of the legendarium including a chronological list of historical happenings. This use of the historiographical method furthers the impression of the mythopoeic universe being a feigned history. The methodology of including within a fictional narrative various documentation practices which are typical to historiographical research gives to the mythical landscape a historical flavour. It is as Lefkowitz writes – “If historiography could acquire depth and dimension by assimilating some of the structures of myth, it follows that myths could also acquire credibility by assimilating some of the detailed

12 information conveyed by historiography” (357). Historical imagination is crucial in the production of texts that aim to have an identity that ties them to the culture and geography of a particular place. In Tolkien’s case this place is first and foremost England, along with references to a wider Euro-centric civilization. Tolkien intensely disliked allegory and avoided direct representations of real-world events in his fictional universe, however his usage of universal themes that draw upon the currents of human nature and civilization, inevitably draw his works into metaphorical comparisons with historically significant incidents such as the World Wars. Roland Barthes is of the opinion that, “What the world supplies to myth is an historical reality, defined, even if this goes back quite a while, by the way in which men have produced or used it; and what myth gives in return is a natural image of this reality” (142). By using myths as the basic building blocks in his secondary world construction, Tolkien produces a narrative that represents a real-world historical consciousness envisioned in a fantastical, fictionalised format.

Tolkien’s preoccupation with myth, history and the process of sub-creation through which he carefully and intricately designed his secondary world is often symbolised by him in the form of a tree. It is a metaphor he himself uses to describe the sub-creative process within his mind. He called The Lord of the Rings his “internal Tree” (Tolkien, Letters 321) and in Leaf by Niggle a tree is used to represent sub-creation. In a letter to Rayner Unwin, Tolkien wrote –

I have among my ‘papers’ more than one version of a mythical ‘tree’, which crops up regularly at those times when I feel driven to pattern-designing. They are elaborated and coloured and more suitable for embroidery than printing; and the tree bears besides various shapes of leaves many flowers small and large signifying poems and major legends. (Letters 342)

Tolkien’s love for trees permeated all aspects of his life, from the artistic to the personal. After the death of his friend C.S. Lewis, he described himself as “an old tree that is losing all its leaves one by one: this feels like an axe-blow near the roots” (Tolkien, Letters 341). Trees, in addition to being metaphors for artistic creation for Tolkien, were also considered by him to be the embodiment of the most beautiful aspects of the natural world. Trees in particular, and nature as a whole, present important thematic elements in

13 his writings. While Tolkien cannot be specifically categorised as a nature writer, nature in his texts occupies an essential role that governs the ethical implications of his themes. Tolkien’s basic morality that defines the universal struggle between good and evil in his works takes inspiration from how nature is treated by the characters in his books. It therefore becomes a yardstick through which the morals of a particular individual or community are judged. In doing so, Tolkien emerges not just as a writer who uses nature as a theme and subject matter in his works, but also one who displays a strong conservationist approach to nature. During the time that Tolkien wrote the bulk of his works in the 30s and 40s, nature conservation was not yet a topic of widespread concern that it is today. The implications of the destruction of the natural world were not fully understood and the impact of human activity upon the global ecosystem was not extensively explored as a major problem. However the Industrial Revolution from the late 18th to mid 19th century had left a lasting and very visible impact on the environment that was keenly felt by many writers of the age. William Wordsworth in his poem ‘The Tables Turned’, declares –

Sweet is the lore which nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Misshapes the beauteous forms of things;

—We murder to dissect. (104)

William Blake’s famous expression “dark Satanic Mills” from his poem ‘And did those feet in ancient times’ represents a deep distaste for the kind of distorted landscape that was created as a result of industrial activity which threatened to overtake and destroy the natural environment that had flourished mostly undisturbed for millennia. Tolkien’s childhood was spent both in industrial towns and in rural England which still retained the utopian beauty of his ideal landscape. He inherited his love of nature from his mother, Mabel Tolkien, who inculcated in the young Tolkien a deep love of nature that would continue to be part of his personal philosophy throughout his life. Humphrey Carpenter, in his J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography, writes –

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His mother taught him a great deal of botany, and he responded to this and soon became very knowledgeable. But again he was more interested in the shape and feel of a plant than in its botanical details. This was especially true of trees. And though he liked drawing trees he liked most of all to be with trees. He would climb them, lean against them, even talk to them. It saddened him to discover that not everyone shared his feelings towards them. (25)

Tolkien was devastated by the treatment that was met to the natural world at the hands of human beings, particularly in the name of progress and development. He deplored the deliberate felling of trees and destruction of natural habitats declaring that “Every tree has its enemy, few have an advocate” (Tolkien, Letters 321). He affirmed his love for trees, writing that, “I am (obviously) much in love with plants and above all trees, and always have been; and I find human maltreatment of them as hard to bear as some find ill-treatment of animals” (Tolkien, Letters 220). During the First World War Tolkien was on active duty and experienced firsthand its destructive effects upon the natural world. Carpenter describes Tolkien’s experiences during the War – “Grass and corn had vanished into a sea of mud. Trees, stripped of leaf and branch, stood as mere mutilated and blackened trunks. Tolkien never forgot what he called the 'animal horror' of trench warfare” (Biography 86). Both industrialization and war were then viewed by Tolkien as threats, as they embodied a rampaging, bulldozing kind of attitude that had no regard for the delicate balance that existed between nature and human life. Consequently, much of the ethical debate within his works hinges upon how nature is treated and the machines of both industrialization and war are represented in a negative light. The implications of the treatment of nature extend to the social and political landscape of Tolkien’s secondary world, which is governed by ethical principles identical to those of Tolkien regarding nature. His championing of the rights of nature in his narratives comes across as an obvious call of the conservationist, one who actively advocates for the preservation of nature by outlining how important a role it plays in maintaining harmony and beauty in society. Tolkien’s opinions are an instance of proto-conservationism in literature, written at a time when such problems were not widely discussed in context of the need to address them immediately and take affirmative action. His texts therefore present an opportunity to analyze them through an ecocritical lens.

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An ecocritical study of a text essentially evolves into a multidisciplinary reading involving an analysis of race, gender and other socio-cultural phenomenon with respect to their relationship with the environment they inhabit. The influence of ecological factors upon the social structures of a human civilization and in turn the influence of these structures upon their immediate physical environment is an important branch of anthropology that evolved in the latter part of the 20th century. This ecological anthropology is defined by Patricia K. Townsend as “The study of relationships between a population of humans and their biophysical environment” (120). Various aspects of human society from religious practices to scientific inquiry can find their basis in humanity’s association with the natural world. Human evolution itself is a product of a direct intervention of the physical environment. When Homo sapiens evolved and began a process of geographical migrations between the African and Eurasian continents they came into cultural and sexual contact with their genetic cousins, the Homo neanderthalensis. The Neanderthals with their barrel chests and stocky limbs had bodies which were better suited to the cold climate of Europe’s last Ice Age. With the advent of modern humans, after a period of cohabitation, Neanderthals gradually became extinct. There are several theories regarding Neanderthal extinction and it is widely believed that a combination of factors, which include climatic changes and competition with Homo sapiens, contributed to their demise. Such an example would seem obscure with regard to modern socio-cultural interactions; however it clearly outlines the close link between the cultural development of a sentient species and the environmental factors it comes in contact with. In the present context it also mirrors the cross-cultural relationships that decide the cultural currents of a developing civilization. Millennia of migration, along with periods of relative social isolation, as well as conflict; have resulted in the development of vastly diverse human cultures. Each of these cultures can arguably be said to be the product of the natural environment they have evolved in. Indigenous people in various parts of the world developed their cultures through a close relationship with nature. Folk music and dance evolved through various tribal rites and rituals which were often related to religious invocation of what were perceived as forces of nature. The mythologies of both the Western and Eastern worlds anthropomorphized nature in the form of deities and the concept of cultural identity incorporated the natural elements

16 revered by a particular culture. Traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) found in various indigenous cultures refers to knowledge inherited by each generation through the transmission of various traditional cultural practices like songs and stories that define the relationship between humans and the natural world. The Māori concept of kaitiakitanga is a holistic approach towards environmental guardianship and is an intrinsic part of their cultural identity. Certain religious groups like the Jains of India have a rigorous belief system which strictly adheres to a policy of non-violence towards the living environment, to the extent that it recommends fruitarianism for its followers. Native American tribes revered the natural world, ascribed to it spiritual powers and followed a policy of conservation. Their contact with imperialist European powers proved to be devastating not only to their culture but also to the balance between the natural and human world in the North American continent. In Europe, the 19th century saw the advent of industrialization and rapid mechanization in ordinary human life. This age gave rise to a new category of the modern human being who was moving away from the earlier pastoral way of life towards a detachment from the natural world. While the Industrial Revolution forms the basis of contemporary technological advancements it is also a precursor of the global climate change problem. The World Wars, with increasingly mechanized forms of combat, further destabilized the relationship between humans and nature. In the 21st century climate change hastened by environmental pollution is one of major causes for concern and has given rise to international debate and action. The sustainable use of natural resources has become a crucial need, upon which hinges the survival of the human race. The increased understanding of environmental issues among society in recent years led to the development of ecocriticism as a branch of study that evaluates texts on the basis of their importance to the themes of nature and conservation.

Ecocriticism is one of the most recently developed branches of literary criticism that evolved into its present understanding during the 80s and 90s. Some works of ecocritical significance had been published in the previous decades; such as Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring in 1962, which exposed the harmful effects of excessive pesticide use upon the environment. The impact of Carson’s book on the environmental movement was immense and it served as an inspiration for later works about ecological concerns. In 1974 Joseph Meeker published his The Comedy of Survival: Studies in Literary Ecology

17 in which he defines literary ecology as “the study of biological themes and relationships which appear in literary works. It is simultaneously an attempt to discover what roles have been played in literature in the ecology of the human species” (9). Ecocriticism was first coined as a term to define a specific kind of critical genre by William Reuckert in his 1978 essay ‘Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism’. In the essay he declares his intention to –

Experiment with the application of ecology and ecological concepts to the study of literature ... discover something about the ecology of literature, or try to develop an ecological poetics by applying ecological concepts to the reading, teaching, and writing about literature. (Reuckert 107)

Laurence Buell, in his The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature Writing, and the Formation of American Culture (1995), defines ecocriticism as a “study of the relationship between literature and the environment conducted in a spirit of commitment to environmentalist praxis” (430). By laying emphasis on praxis, Buell clarifies the strain of activism inherent in ecocriticism. Like Marxism or feminism, ecocriticism is a political genre of criticism that does not only critique literature but also uses the themes of nature within texts to formulate theories that lead to environmental conservation. One of the definitive works in the field of ecocriticism is The Ecocriticism Reader published in 1996 by Cheryll Glotfelty and Harold Fromm, which is an anthology of various essays on the topic. In the introduction to the book Glotfelty defines ecocriticism simply as “the study of the relationship between literature and the physical environment” (xviii). She goes on to list various kinds of questions that are the concern of ecocritics –

How is nature represented in this sonnet? What role does the physical setting play in the plot of this novel? Are the values expressed in this play consistent with ecological wisdom? How do our metaphors of the land influence the way we treat it? How can we characterize nature writing as a genre? In addition to race, class, and gender, should place become a new critical category? (Glotfelty xviii-xix)

All of these questions are very relevant in a discussion of the role of nature in Tolkien’s works. Much of his writings include the politics of place, metaphors of land, detailed

18 natural settings and anthropomorphisation of nature. Most remarkable is how he intertwines his environmental beliefs with the very basic structure of his mythology and permeates his texts with moral considerations that are centred on an ethic based upon the preservation of nature. By studying the mythological structure of Tolkien’s narratives through an ecocritical lens, it allows one to identify the importance of his environmental ethics at the very core of his sub-creative imagination.

In conclusion, the purpose of this study is to trace in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien elements of ecology, mythology and historiography, and in doing so explore the possibility of their interrelatedness in the author’s sub-creative vision. In order to understand the development of Tolkien’s mythical construction over time and the evolution of his ecological themes, I have adopted a chronological approach for the study of his three major texts – The Silmarillion, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. This approach takes into account the actual creative chronology of when the texts were written rather than their date of publication, therefore it places The Silmarillion in the beginning in spite of it being the last of the three to be published. The chapter divisions in this thesis serve the purpose of tracing the progression of Tolkien’s ideas and individually examining the place of each text in the overarching narrative of his legendarium, however his entire body of work is treated as a single thematic and narrative unit. Chapter 2 examines The Silmarillion’s position within Tolkien’s legendarium as a mythical framework upon which most of his later fictional narratives are based. It explores the historical imagination in Tolkien’s mythmaking and his deliberate construction of a mythology that works as a feigned history of England. The various mythical narratives in The Silmarillion are studied in context of their real-world counterparts, like Norse mythology and Biblical themes, and their influence upon Tolkien’s writings is traced. The role of nature in Tolkien’s secondary world creation and its thematic and ethical importance within the mythopoeic universe is also discussed in detail. Chapter 3 studies The Hobbit as a work of children’s literature and a nature-text. The text follows a quest narrative which allows for an episodic plot that accompanies progressive character development in the protagonist. The idea of home is explored in context of its place within the natural world. Its multi-faceted significance to various characters and their individual attitudes towards home are studied through an ecocritical perspective. The

19 theme of greed that emerges in the narrative is viewed in terms of its opposition to Tolkien’s environmental vision. Chapter 4 is a study of the coming together of the mythical and the familiar in The Lord of the Rings. The adoption of various medieval narrative techniques is traced and the character and plot elements in the text are examined through the lens of Jungian archetypes and tropes of quest narratives. Various kinds of spaces in Tolkien’s mythopoeic landscape are explored in context of their relationship with nature. There is also a special focus upon questions of race and gender within the socio-political universe of the novel. Since most of Tolkien’s fictional writings form a thematically and narratively interconnected oeuvre, references have been made to his other works wherever required. I have also extensively referred to Tolkien’s non-fictional writings, including essays and letters, for their value in providing insight and commentary about the author’s creative and philosophical intent.

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Works Cited

Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. Translated by Annette Lavers, The Noonday Press, 1991.

Blake, William, and Frederick Tatham. The Letters of William Blake. Edited by Archibald G.B. Russell, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1906.

Buell, Lawrence. The Environmental Imagination: Thoreau, Nature Writing and the Formation of American Culture. Harvard University Press, 1995.

Carpenter, Humphrey. J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000.

–––––––– The Inklings. Houghton Mifflin Company, 1979.

Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. Princeton University Press, 1957.

Glotfelty, Cheryll. “Introduction.” The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, edited by Cheryll Glotfelty and Harold Fromm, University of Georgia Press, 1996, pp. xv-xxxvii.

Graves, Robert, editor. New Larousse Encyclopaedia of Mythology. Hamlyn, 1968.

Lefkowitz, Mary. “Historiography and Myth.” A Companion to the Philosophy of History and Historiography, edited by Aviezer Tucker, Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2009, pp. 353–361.

Meeker, Joseph. The Comedy of Survival: Studies in Literary Ecology. Scribner, 1974.

Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music. Translated by Francis Golffing, Doubleday & Co., 1956.

Reuckert, William. “Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism.” The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, edited by Cheryll Glotfelty and Harold Fromm, University of Georgia Press, 1996, pp. 105–123.

Shakespeare, William. A Midsummer Night's Dream. Edited by R.A. Foakes, Cambridge University Press, 2003.

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Smith, Anthony D. Myths and Memories of the Nation. Oxford University Press, 1999.

Tolkien, J. R. R. Tales from the Perilous Realm. HarperCollinsPublishers, 2008.

–––––––– The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000.

Townsend, Patricia K. Environmental Anthropology: From Pigs to Policies. Waveland Press, Inc., 2000.

White, Hayden. Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1975.

Wordsworth, William, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Lyrical Ballads: Wordsworth and Coleridge. Edited by R. L. Brett and A. R. Jones, Routledge, 1991.

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Chapter 2

“In the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars”

The Silmarillion

Chapter 2

“In the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars”

The Silmarillion

Much before Tolkien populated his fictional universe with the beloved characters of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, he created this universe itself. Through the process of mythopoeic creation or myth-making he designed and engineered an entire legendarium, replete with a complex mythology of creation, places, languages and characters. This, initially a private project stemming from an interest in philology, culminated in The Silmarillion. Although published posthumously in 1977, many of the stories in The Silmarillion date as early as 1914. Published four years after Tolkien’s death, The Silmarillion was edited by his son Christopher Tolkien whose job was an arduous and complicated one. Most of the stories that became part of the text were written decades before in old notebooks and were in the process of constant change and evolution as Tolkien continued to work on this mythical framework well into his later years. New additions often created contradictions in the internal consistency of the narrative. As Christopher writes in his Foreword, The Silmarillion “did not remain unchanged even in certain fundamental ideas concerning the nature of the world it portrays; while the same legends came to be retold in longer and shorter forms, and in different cycles” (Tolkien, Silmarillion v). In compiling a single text which would form a comprehensive narrative Christopher had to painstakingly smoothen out the inconsistencies and contradictions. However The Silmarillion is not to be viewed as a singular narrative like The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings which are both traditional texts with a well defined internal chronology and structure. This is because the conception of The Silmarillion spans almost fifty years and mirrors that of real-world mythologies which develop over a certain period of time and are embellished by various sources. This gives the tales contained in the text an authenticity and mythical flavour that further reinforces the illusion of an organic rather than a constructed mythology. It is, as Christopher states –

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A compilation, a compendious narrative, made long afterwards from sources of great diversity (poems, and annals, and oral tales) that has survived in agelong tradition; and this conception has indeed its parallel in the actual history of the book, for a great deal of earlier prose and poetry does underlie it, and it is to some extent a compendium in fact and not only in theory. (Tolkien, Silmarillion vi)

Tolkien was conscious of the fact that unlike Greek, Norse, Celtic, Finnish and other mythical traditions, England with the exception of Arthurian legends, was lacking in a comprehensive mythology. The Arthurian legends, while linked with British traditions, did not have the necessary ingredients for a fully realized mythology such as creation myths and a divine pantheon, but instead relied on the Christian Genesis to fulfil these roles. With the intention of filling this gap, Tolkien conceived of a narrative that would serve as a mythology native to England, give English history and culture a basis in fantasy and instil within them a certain mystique of antiquity. In a letter to Milton Waldman, Tolkien writes –

I had a mind to make a body of more or less connected legend, ranging from the large and cosmogonic, to the level of romantic fairy-story – the larger founded on the lesser in contact with the earth, the lesser drawing splendour from the vast backcloths – which I could dedicate simply to: to England; to my country. (Letters 144)

The Silmarillion is concerned therefore primarily with the “cosmogonic”, it provides essentially the “backcloths” upon which the more familiar tales of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are painted. Structurally, as it was edited by Christopher Tolkien and published in 1977, The Silmarillion contains four other works apart from the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’. The ‘Ainulindalë’ and the ‘Valaquenta’ which are placed before the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ contain the bulk of Tolkien’s creation myths and deal only with the Middle-earth pantheon. The ‘Ainulindalë’ provides the basic cosmogonic myth about the creation of the universe, while the ‘Valaquenta’ details the attributes of the Ainur or the gods and goddesses. Together they provide a mythical framework through which stem all the later tales. Then comes the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ which narrates the events of the First Age, the story of the making of the three jewels, the Silmarils, and the chaos and

24 war that follows after their theft by Morgoth. The next two stories are the ‘Akallabêth’ and ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’. The ‘Akallabêth’ is Tolkien’s version of the Atlantis myth and narrates the story of the Men living on the island of Númenor. The Fall of Númenor provides a background for later events during the Third Age concerning the rise of and the forging of the Rings of Power. This tale is further expanded in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but is briefly narrated in ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, the last section of The Silmarillion.

In his poem ‘Mythopoeia’, addressed to his friend and fellow Inkling C.S. Lewis, Tolkien defends the process of myth-making against Lewis’ assertion that myths are in fact lies. In ‘Mythopoeia’ and later in his essay On Fairy Stories, Tolkien emphasizes that myths and fairy tales serve as reflections and parallels to the real world and hence provide their readers with an outside and often objective perspective of their own world. The sub-creative powers of the author are lauded in the ability to fashion a secondary world which not only serves as a fictional narrative but also as a mirror of the truth of the primary world –

To make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labour and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft. Few attempt such difficult tasks. But when they are attempted and in any degree accomplished then we have a rare achievement of Art: indeed narrative art, story-making in its primary and most potent mode. (Tolkien, Tales 364)

Happy endings, according to Tolkien, are often a prerequisite of fairy stories and he coins this ‘sudden joyous turn’ as a ‘Euscatastrophe’ in On-Fairy Stories. This optimistic aspect of narrative is central to all mythologies since mythological concerns include morality and the triumph of good over evil. A devout Catholic himself, Tolkien views the Christian myths in the same vein –

The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories ... and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe … The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of

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Man's history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. (Tales 387-388)

Christianity serves as one of the major influences upon Tolkien’s myth-making. While Greek, Norse, Finnish and other myths and legends can be seen as a visible influence in the framework of Tolkien’s mythopoeic universe, it is Christianity which provides the spirit and the basic morality. The ‘Ainulindalë’ bears a striking resemblance to the Christian Genesis and parallels to core Christian elements of God, Satan and the Fall of Man can be found in Tolkien’s creation myths. In the ‘Valaquenta’, Tolkien further expands his pantheon into a rich hierarchal structure of cosmic powers. Both the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ and the ‘Akallabêth’ conclude with a Fall of sorts, of Elves and Men respectively. While essentially pagan in terms of its framework, Tolkien’s religious narrative has a strong underpinning of Christian thought and philosophy especially in the concept of Christian Stewardship. This becomes most apparent when crossed with Tolkien’s environmental vision. From the outset, the Tolkien’s mythopoeia is a study of land and its creation. It is as much concerned with the universe as with the creatures that inhabit it.

Tolkien’s universe or Eä is monotheistic with one Supreme Creator, Eru Ilúvatar, who rules over the entirety of creation. Like the Christian God, Eru simply “Is”. The ‘Ainulindalë’ begins with the statement – “There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 3). Ilúvatar creates the Ainur, angelic beings who, while subservient to Ilúvatar, are given creative powers of their own. This power is manifested through Music. The playing of the themes of music is synonymous to the process of creation. Power is delegated to the Ainur, each taught by Ilúvatar a different theme and each comprehending his or her own part, while complete knowledge lies only with Ilúvatar. The first seed of discord is sown by Melkor, one of the Ainur who wants power for his own self and authority over creation separate from that of Ilúvatar’s. This discord is born out of Melkor’s desire to “interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 4). Power is an important leitmotif through the entire body of Tolkien’s works. It is seen as a source of corruption when it is

26 sought actively. Those seduced by power and greed for the material world, fall to its evil. It is therefore, believed by Tolkien, to be best suited in humble, even reluctant hands, as illustrated later in the role of the hobbits. This first instance of Melkor’s corruption through power provides the basis of all subsequent evil that will come to exist in the universe, much like Satan’s first rebellion against the Biblical God. It is a prophecy of sorts about what to expect in subsequent times – a perpetual cycle of harmony and discord.

The image that Tolkien evokes to visualize the Great Music is that of a cosmic orchestra. Conducted by Ilúvatar who sets forth the theme, it has a host of Ainur as musicians whose voices are “like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 3). Melkor’s discord is therefore as chaotic as a musician who plays off-key and to a different beat, disturbing the concentration of other musicians who pick up his beat and stray from the original. As Ilúvatar counters Melkor’s discord, the two themes rival each other and are vastly different in their nature. One is “at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity”, the other is “loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 5). The two themes are therefore a representation of the opposing forces of good and evil, with their respective qualities corresponding to the nature of both good and evil. While good is subtle, it endures and is imbibed with the power of creation. The music is a channel through which the physical world is imagined. It can be seen as a parallel to Tolkien’s own sub-creation of a secondary world through language and imagination. Evil on the other hand is unoriginal and seeks to gain power by subduing good through violent force and perverting its creative endeavours. The physical conception of the Great Music is represented in the Vision of Eä shown by Ilúvatar to the Ainur. The Vision is a montage of sorts of all that will come to pass in the World. In the Vision Ilúvatar points out how various aspects of the physical world are a result of Melkor’s discord. He says to Ulmo –

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Seest thou not how here in this little realm in the Deeps of Time Melkor hath made war upon thy province? He hath bethought him of bitter cold immoderate, and yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy fountains, nor of my clear pools. Behold the snow, and the cunning work of frost! Melkor hath devised heats and fire without restraint, and hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of the sea. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 8)

Therefore the extremes and imperfections of the physical world are explained in mythic language as a consequence of the interplay between good and evil. The creation of Arda is an example of an ‘ex nihilo (out of nothing) creation myth’, much like the Biblical creation myth. It springs into being from the mind of the creator, in this case in the form of music. However it might also be said to be a ‘creation from chaos’ myth, as the Music creates only the Vision of the world and the actual physical creation of the world is credited to the Valar who create it from the combination of harmony and discord that is prophesized in the Vision. Interestingly, the concept of the Void which exists before the origin of the physical world or Arda is in keeping with modern concepts of theoretical physics. This is essentially the Universe before the cosmic Big Bang, with ‘before’ being a misnomer as Time in the Void flows differently to that in the Vision and is metaphorically non-existent. When the Ainur enter the World, they do so “at the beginning of Time: and it was their task to achieve it, and by their labours to fulfil the vision which they had seen” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 10). Therefore Time itself was created at the beginning of the Universe.

Those of the Ainur who entered Eä to craft it into Arda, a suitable dwelling in anticipation of the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar – Elves and Men, are called the Valar. The ‘Valaquenta’ which describes the individual domains and powers of the Valar is among one of the richest sections of The Silmarillion. Like most mythical systems, the division of powers and characteristics in the pantheon is in fact a classification of the natural world. The first stewards of Arda are therefore the Valar who rule over and govern different aspects of nature. Their responsibility is not confined only to the creation of the world but also its care and maintenance. Their presence in Arda is bound to its very existence and they are obliged to care for its well being until the end of days. Herein lies

28 the foundation of Tolkien’s environmental ethic. The natural world is not merely to be appreciated and celebrated but also to be protected from harm. The Christian ideal that it is the duty of humanity to respect and defend nature as a creation of God is mirrored in the Valar’s responsibility to maintain Arda and its inhabitants at the behest of Ilúvatar.

Nature is anthropomorphized by Tolkien in the characterization of the Valar. Manwë, the leader of all Valar, has dominion over the air and like the winds and clouds that he commands; he exercises the greatest control over Arda being able to reach its furthest corners and is elevated to being the dearest to Ilúvatar. His spouse Varda, Lady of the Stars, is a special favourite of the Elves. Her domain is over light and both Manwë and Varda complement each other by being able to see and hear further in each other’s presence. Ulmo is the Lord of Waters and is in nature both fluid and powerful. His voice is deep like that of the oceans and like water he can be both therapeutic and terrible. Aulë has governance over the matter that makes Arda, essentially the earth. He is a builder by nature and much like Melkor he desired to create new things (ultimately leading to the creation of the Dwarves). However his submission to the will of Ilúvatar is what distinguishes the two and makes them foils for each other. During the creation of Arda, Melkor and Aulë struggled constantly, with Melkor undoing the works of Aulë and Aulë having to repair them. Aulë’s spouse Yavanna is described as the Queen of the Earth and the Giver of Fruits and perhaps best exemplifies the spirit of nature. Her greatest accomplishment can be seen to be the creation of the Two Trees of Valinor which are central to the mythology of Middle-earth. Tolkien’s great love for the form and nature of trees is illustrated in her appearance. Much like the Ents who were created at her request she is seen “standing like a tree under heaven” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 18). Tolkien’s description of Yavanna in the ‘Valaquenta’ is one of the most iconic expressions of his love for all things green – “She is the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests long ago to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould” (Silmarillion, 18). Námo or Mandos rules over the Houses of the Dead and resides there with his spouse Vairë the Weaver, whose tapestries depicting the story of the World adorn the Hall of Mandos. Irmo or Lórien, is the master of visions and dreams. His gardens of Lórien in Valinor are the most beautiful of places in all of Arda. With him dwells Estë who

29 represents healing and rest. Together they embody the therapeutic gift of nature – “From the fountains of Irmo and Estë all those who dwell in Valinor draw refreshment; and often the Valar come themselves to Lórien and there find repose and easing of the burden of Arda” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 19). Olorin the Maia, who would later become Gandalf the Istari, one of the chief players in the War of the Ring, was taught in the gardens of Lórien, a preparation for his own subsequent role as the healer and protector of a Middle- earth ravaged by war. Olorin also learned wisdom under the tutelage of Nienna, the Lady of Mercy. Her tears serve to water the Two Trees as well as to cleanse the filth of the spider Ungoliant, a servant of Melkor. Tulkas is represented as a sort of God of War, called Astaldo, the Valiant. His spouse Nessa the Dancer is remarkable for her speed and ability to outrun deer with whom she has a special affinity. Her brother Oromë, the Lord of Trees, has a particular attachment to the lands of Middle-earth; he is the Hunstman of the Valar and it was he who found the Elves when they first awoke in Middle-earth. His spouse Vána, is the younger sister of Yavanna and much like her represents the most perfect and unmarred form of the beauty of nature.

While the fourteen Valar and Valier together represent nature, both as embodiments and defenders, Melkor once the greatest and most powerful of all is a negation of the positive forces of nature. He represents the corruption of the ‘good’ of Ilúvatar. He is the Satan of Tolkien’s myth, who perverts God’s will for his own ends to create discord in the harmony created by the musical themes of the other Valar. Even after their decent into Eä, Melkor continues to thwart the endeavours of the Valar in their creation of Arda – “They built lands and Melkor destroyed them; valleys they delved and Melkor raised them up; mountains they carved and Melkor threw them down; seas they hollowed and Melkor spilled them” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 12). It is in this tumult that Arda was created and while “all things were in hue and shape other than the Valar had at first intended, slowly nonetheless the Earth was fashioned and made firm” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 12). The evil of Morgoth, as Melkor was later called, therefore had a hand in shaping the world. Nature itself was subjected to his perversion, creating essentially a balance between good and evil and providing the mortal world with choice and shifting the responsibility of upholding the values of good to the Children of Ilúvatar. It can be

30 argued that with the introduction of evil into the world, Morgoth essentially fulfilled his destiny by acting as a necessary foil to counterbalance the forces of good.

Most ancient mythical systems are deeply influenced by the natural world in the realization of their narratives. Nature as the most immediate environment encountered by human beings became both the setting and the subject of humanity’s early tales. Before modern science explained and quantified various natural phenomena they were a source of wonder and fear, giving nature a quality of the surreal and a mystique that was at once comforting and awe-inspiring. From this emerged the different religious beliefs which personified nature and ascribed to it cosmic powers in its varied forms. The development of a mythical system is thus an organic process which collects separate narratives over time and combines them into a single yet heterogeneous narrative. Tolkien believed firmly in the power of myth. While the mode may be fantastical, he believed myths related the true essence of human nature and society. It is no wonder therefore that he employed the genre in the expression of his overarching theme of good versus evil. His was a delicate and deliberate process of creating a fictional universe to populate his stories with. This deliberation is what distinguishes his mythology with real world mythologies, in that it is not so much organic as constructed. The greatness of his art lies in his ability to create the illusion of separate narratives while they, in fact, emanate from the same source, the singular author – the self-declared sub-creator. Tolkien’s environmental ideals arose from a deep distaste for the industrial era that was ongoing in Europe in his times. He believed that progress in its mechanized form was overtaking the values and beauty of the English countryside. This personal conviction coupled with his academic interest in myths and fairy tales is what gives his writing its particular environmental vision. The value of examining Tolkien’s works through an ecological lens lies therefore in recognizing that his myth may be artificial but the essence of it is as natural and organic as any real world mythology. Nature is intertwined in the very building blocks of his creation and becomes not just a subject of his narratives but also the modus operandi.

If we conduct a historiographical analysis of the entire body of Tolkien’s works, a singular narrative spanning his three major works The Silmarillion, The Hobbit and The

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Lord of the Rings, as well as various minor works, we find that the history of Middle- earth unfolds as a tale of land and the natural world. Good and evil are in a constant tug of war which places the natural world in the middle. The protection and perversion of nature tips the balance in favour of either, creating the main plots of the narrative. The history of Middle-earth reveals how the changing form of the land is instrumental in guiding the destinies of its inhabitants and hence influencing the major plotlines. History is measured in Arda in three time periods corresponding to major natural and geological changes – Years of the Lamps, Years of the Trees and Years of the Sun. The Years of the Lamps commence with the coming of the Valar to Arda and span over their creative endeavours to accomplish the Vision shown to them by Ilúvatar. They get their name from the Two Lamps that light the single continent of Arda. The initial geography of Arda has a magnificent symmetry. The landmass of Middle-earth was a continent encircled by the waters of Ulmo. At its centre was the Great Lake and on it was the Isle of Almaren, the first dwelling of the Valar in Arda. The Two Lamps, Illuin and Ormal, are set upon high pillars at the north and south of Middle-earth respectively, and they suffuse the entire continent with light as if “in a changless day” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 27). An Asgardian paradise reminiscent of Norse myths, Almaren is the Valhalla of the Valar. At the request of Yavanna, the Lamps are constructed by the collective might of Aulë, Varda and Manwë. It is Varda, the Lady of the Stars, who fills the lamps with light. Varda later crafted the stars under which the Elves first awoke and is revered by them, as Elves have a special affinity for stars. The light of the Lamps therefore comes from the same source as that of the stars and is therefore of the same quality – an image of divine perfection, which the Valar at Almaren embody and which the Elves later aspire to. This period corresponds with what is called the Spring of Arda in which the Valar give shape to the World, populating it with plants and animals, the olvar and kelvar.

The light of the Lamps have a profound effect on the land as the seeds sown by Yavanna experience a sort of mythic germination –

There arose a multitude of growing things great and small, mosses and grasses and great ferns, and trees whose tops were crowned with cloud as they were living mountains, but whose feet were wrapped in a green twilight. And beasts came

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forth and dwelt in the grassy plains, or in the rivers and the lakes, or walked in the shadows of the woods. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 27-28)

Tolkien’s love for all things green is evident in the imagery he invokes of the creative process, paying individual attention to even the smallest of natural phenomenon. In fact it is his regard for the simplest and so-called ordinary things in nature that forms the soul of his environmental vision, which would later manifest itself in the pastoral beauty of the Shire. Light, like the Music that created it, is a symbol of good in nature. However good cannot exist without the intervention of evil, as the cycle of harmony and discord, which first began when Morgoth created discord in the Great Music, repeats itself. The Valar’s perfect paradise is marred yet again when Morgoth builds his secret fortress of Utumno. The evil that spreads from Utumno affects the land itself. This is described in The Silmarillion –

The blight of his hatred flowed out thence, and the Spring of Arda was marred. Green things fell sick and rotted, and rivers were choked with weeds and slime, and fens were made, rank and poisonous, the breeding place of flies; and forests grew dark and perilous, the haunts of fear; and beasts became monsters of horn and ivory and dyed the earth with blood. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 29)

The theme of the marring of Arda is in fact a recurrent motif throughout its history. Arda Marred or Arda Hastaina in , is an Elvish term which refers to the world as it exists in its tainted form. It is an eternal cycle of creation and destruction that is tied with the fate of the world and all subsequent evil that exists in the world is a result of the taint of Morgoth during its initial stages of creation. The introduction of corruption into the world forever changes it nature and various elements of this corruption are used by evil forces in later times for their own ends. The fens and weeds and carnivorous beats that are a result of the marring are inherently tied to its existence and it reinforces the belief that evil is as much an ingredient of creation as is good. In The Peoples of Middle-earth, the twelfth volume of The History of Middle-earth compiled by Christopher Tolkien, Mandos says –

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For even if we under Eru have the power to return to Middle-earth and cast out Morgoth from the Kingdom of Arda, we cannot destroy all the evil that he has sown, nor seek out all his servants—unless we ravaged the whole of the Kingdom and made an end of all life therein; and that we may not do. (Tolkien, Peoples)

Morgoth deals the final blow of his taint by destroying the Two Lamps. The consequences are disastrous as the entire landmass and ecology of the continent are almost completely annihilated and “the shape of Arda and the symmetry of it waters and its lands were marred” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 29). When Morgoth destroys the Two Lamps the continent of Arda does not just plunge into darkness but suffers a physical blow and is cleaved into three separate land masses – Aman, Middle-earth and the Eastern Continent. The effects of evil are thus felt most profoundly on the land itself as it changes shape forever. With the destruction of the Lamps the Years of the Lamps end and the World moves on to a rather more eventful period – the Years of the Trees.

After the destruction of the Lamps the Valar departed to the continent of Aman in the West where they established Valinor. Here once again music, in this case a song sung by Yavanna, results in the birth of the Two Trees of Valinor, one of the most significant symbols throughout the entire narrative –

Upon the mound there came forth two slender shoots; and silence was over all the world in that hour, nor was there any other sound save the chanting of Yavanna. Under her song the saplings grew and became fair and tall, and came to flower; and thus there awoke in the world the Two Trees of Valinor. Of all things which Yavanna made they have most renown, and about their fate all the tales of the Elder Days are woven (Tolkien, Silmarillion 31)

The Two Trees named Telperion and Laurelin, silver and golden respectively, occupy a special place in Tolkien’s myth. Their light once again becomes a source of illumination. Therefore what was imagined as pure light in the Lamps is now realized in the form of Trees. The Count of Time in the history of Arda begins with the Two Trees. Much like the birth of Christ they signal a new era for the world. Tolkien for all of his life was especially fascinated with the form and beauty of trees, and it is therefore no surprise that

34 he chose trees as one of the most important symbols in his works. The significance of their creation spreads out like a wave over the many long ages of Arda. As Dickerson and Evans point out – “These trees not only have a central place in the physical layout of the undying city of Valmar, the capital of Valinor; they are also central to the early chronology of events in the mythic Elder Days of Middle-earth” (7). Indeed, when the light of the Two Trees was captured in the three jewels, the Silmarils, it set off a chain of events that would have consequences for the entire history of Middle-earth well into the Third Age. The White Tree of Gondor is a descendant of the Two Trees of Valinor and its importance as a symbol of righteous leadership implies a sort of divine sanction for the line of Elendil to rule over Middle-earth.

It is also during the Years of the Trees that Varda rekindled the stars and in this starlight the Elves awakened in Middle-earth, which accounts for their special love for stars –

By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar; and while they dwelt yet silent by Cuiviénen their eyes beheld first of all things the stars of heaven. Therefore they have ever loved the starlight, and have revered Card Elentari above all the Valar. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 45)

Light and darkness are used as recurrent symbols for good and evil in many literary works, however unlike their more metaphoric use in most narratives; they are given physical form in Tolkien’s mythopoeia with objects from the natural world acting as conduits of light. The destruction of these objects results in a tangible darkness making the metaphor more pronounced. The Light of Valinor that is suffused within the Two Trees is essentially pure in nature in that it existed before its tainting by the Fall of Valinor and the destruction of the Trees. It is, as Tolkien explained in his letter to Milton Waldman – “The light of art undivorced from reason, that sees things both scientifically (or philosophically) and imaginatively (or sub-creatively)” (Letters 14). The Lamps, the Trees, the stars, are all born of the creative goodness of the Valar with the divine will of Ilúvatar and are hence the image of good and beauty in the world. Tolkien employs a rather scientific process by which Music is first transformed into Light and finally into corporeal objects like the Two Trees. Nature is thus seen as a realization of God’s will on

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Earth. This reflects Tolkien’s Christian faith and his conviction that by aligning themselves with nature, human beings achieve closeness to God.

The destruction of the Two Trees by Morgoth is accomplished with the help of the spider Ungoliant, literally Unlight. The forces of Darkness act as a negation to the forces of Light. The demise of the Two Trees is one of the most significant happenings in the early history of Arda and has a profound effect on the Valar and “no song or tale could contain all the grief and terror that then befell” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 80). In the aftermath of the destruction of the Trees both silence and darkness descended upon Valinor. It constitutes yet another cycle of marring of Arda which utterly destroys its former glory, plunging it into a darkness so profound that “seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own; for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 80). Nature in its purest form was perverted. The stumps of Laurelin and Telperion were forever left as “a memorial of vanished joy” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 109) but also as a reminder to the Valar of their failure to protect them and the consequences of their loss. The rapid industrialization of England was at Tolkien’s time creating a similar loss in terms of the natural world. The beauty and appreciation of nature was largely being ignored in favour of progress. The image of the dead stumps and the filth left behind by Ungoliant is a strong environmentalist plea for humanity to face the consequences of its mindless actions. The tale of the Two Trees is therefore a cautionary one. Their importance to the Valar as the most perfect and exquisite of their accomplishments, not just for their aesthetic value but also for their life-giving nature, is emphasized with their loss.

The Two Trees are however not completely lost. Once again music is employed to coax a silver flower from Telperion and a golden fruit from Laurelin –

For a long while Yavanna sang alone in the shadows. Yet even as hope failed and her song faltered, Telperion bore at last upon a leafless bough one great flower of silver, and Laurelin a single fruit of gold. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 109)

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The Valar then together make vessels for the flower and the fruit and cast them into the sky so “that they might become lamps of heaven, outshining the ancient stars” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 109). The Moon and the Sun are therefore crafted from the silver flower of Telperion and the golden fruit of Laurelin respectively. Two Maiar were appointed to guide the vessels through the sky. The maiden Arien who had tended the golden flowers in the Years of the Trees was chosen to guide the Sun, and Tilion, a follower of Oromë, who hunted with a silver bow, was chosen to guide the Moon. Tolkien builds a sort of cosmological model for the path of the Sun and the Moon in his mythic language by explaining their trajectory through the skies through an anthropomorphizing of nature. Arien and Tilion are imbibed with the qualities of the vessels they are entrusted with and it is in some ways their nature and their whims which decide the movement of the celestial bodies. The Sun and the Moon are often depicted in mythologies as lovers or rivals who are either forever parted or in pursuit of each other. Similarly, Arien’s magnificence draws Tilion towards her and his path becomes wayward –

But Tilion was wayward and uncertain in speed, and held not to his appointed path; and he sought to come near to Arien, being drawn by her splendour, though the flame of Anar scorched him, and the island of the Moon was darkened. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 111)

The dark craters on the moon are thus explained through the language of myth, as are other cosmological events like an eclipse – “At times it will chance that he comes so nigh that his shadow cuts off her brightness and there is a darkness amid the day” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 112).

It is noteworthy that the legacy of the Two Trees is not allowed to fade. Since within the fictional universe of Tolkien we are to believe that the events of his narrative are an ancient history of the real world, the significance of the Two Trees actually spills over into reality. The importance of the Sun and the Moon for human life is traced back to the Two Trees. Therefore the Two Trees are an intrinsic part of not just the narrative but existence itself. With the placing of the Sun and the Moon in the sky begin the Years of the Sun. Most of the events in Tolkien’s legendarium take place during this period. The First Age of the Children of Ilúvatar which began in the Years of the Trees continues

37 into the Years of the Sun and all subsequent ages leading up to the present times fall within this count. A process of creation which began with the intangible – the Music of the Ainur in a Great Void – is made tangible and finally realized in the creation of a fully formed Middle-earth which corresponds with the world that we know. It is an example of a creation myth which illustrates the mythopoeic process at its finest.

The most significant event in the history of Middle-earth, after the conception of the Two Trees and the migration of the Valar to Aman, was the awakening of the Elves – the long-awaited Children of Ilúvatar, the Firstborn. After the marring of Arda and the destruction of the Lamps, Middle-earth, now abandoned by the Valar, lay in perpetual darkness. The Spring of Arda was halted. However the ecology of Middle-earth had already taken shape to some extent – “The oldest living things had arisen: in the seas the great weeds, and on earth the shadow of great trees; and in the valleys of the night-clad hills there were dark creatures old and strong” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 43). These dark creatures were a result of the corruption of Morgoth who continued to dwell in Middle- earth. He perverted many things to evil and “the dark and slumbering woods were haunted by monsters and shapes of dread” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 43). Spirits and creatures who had aligned themselves with Morgoth became further corrupted, like the Balrogs, and added to his kingdom of darkness which continued to spread over Middle- earth. Troubled by these happenings, the Valar feared that the awakening of the Elves, as prophesized in the Vision, would be amidst darkness and evil. Therefore Varda, the Lady of the Stars, decided to create new and brighter stars that would light up the continent of Middle-earth in anticipation of the Elves. This is yet another example of the leitmotif of light being introduced into darkness as a symbol of good countering evil and providing balance in the world, giving it a binary character of both good and evil. The light of the stars, much like the moon which would be created later, was made from the silver Tree Telperion, in this case from its dews. Varda wrought many mighty stars from these dews and set them in the sky. Tolkien’s myth-making and his attempt to describe the natural world through the language of myth is reflected in his naming of various stars and drawing parallels to their real-world counterparts. The description of Valacirca, “the crown of seven mighty stars…the Sickle of the Valar” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 45), is clearly of the constellation Ursa Major or the Big Dipper. Tolkien’s device of

38 incorporating actual elements of the natural world into his mythological narrative, reinforce his mythopoeia’s illusion as a mythical account of the pre-historic world.

The Elves finally awaken in a region of Middle-earth known as Cuiviénen. The account of their awakening is among one of the most beautiful passages in The Silmarillion –

When first Menelmacar strode up the sky and the blue fire of Helluin flickered in the mists above the borders of the world, in that hour the Children of the Earth awoke, the Firstborn of Ilúvatar. By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar; and while they dwelt yet silent by Cuiviénen their eyes beheld first of all things the stars of heaven. Therefore they have ever loved the starlight, and have revered Varda Elentári above all the Valar. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 45)

This description is reminiscent of medieval Welsh and Irish stories about fairies who held court in clearings in the woods. Lisa L. Spangenberg writes – “Some of his earliest poems describe fairies dancing in a forest glade, an allusion, surely to Orfeo’s witness of fairy women dancing in Sir Orfeo, a text that Tolkien translated and taught” (186). The Victorian depictions of Elves were of a diminutive people similar to gnomes and pixies. Tolkien rejected this representation in favour of a more medieval image of the faerie world which had, according to Bradford Lee Eden “a different depiction of elves: powerful, strange, and as tall as humans but living in a different space and time” (150). The influence of various Middle English works like the Arthurian romance Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and the narrative poem Sir Orfeo is very important in this regard. Elves in medieval literature were powerful beings. Their affinity to music and immortality are aspects which Tolkien used in the creation of his own Elves. The conception of Elves however first began with Tolkien’s philological interests. Both as a child and an adult Tolkien created numerous fictional languages. Quenya, based on Finnish and Greek, and , based on Welsh, were two of his most completely formed languages. He gave them a mythological framework by conceiving a mythopoeic universe inhabited by creatures who spoke these languages. The language and culture of the Elves has been extensively and intricately described by Tolkien in his various works,

39 complete with fictional music, poetry, art and literature. An anthropological study of the Elves in Tolkien’s writings reveals them as a heterogeneous race with immense social and ethnic diversity.

The awakening of the Elves at Cuiviénen marks the transition from pre-historic Middle-earth to an era of recorded history. The mythical Arda of the Valar gradually develops into a landmass with geographical and cultural identity. Parallels can be drawn between the coming of Elves and the creation of Adam in Abrahamic myth. Much like the Abrahamic God created the world for the habitation of Man, the prophecy of the Vision of Ilúvatar is fulfilled with the awakening of the Elves, and the purpose of creation is realized. In Islamic mythology Adam is taught the names of all things that will come to be in the world. Therefore, the acquisition of language is seen as the first step towards a sentient understanding of the world and consequently paves the way for the development of culture and society. The Elves are distinct from the kelvar or animals, in that they do not simply inhabit Middle-earth but perceive it and attribute meaning to it –

Long they dwelt in their first home by the water under stars, and they walked the Earth in wonder; and they began to make speech and to give their name to all things they perceived. Themselves they named the Quendi, signifying those that speak with voices; for as yet they had met no other living things that spoke or sang. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 45)

The development of language in Elves sets them apart from all other creations because having observed the world they begin to have a meaningful understanding of it as intended by Ilúvatar. By acquiring a linguistic system and by using signs to express meaning, the Elves acquire culture. This sets the stage for Tolkien to introduce his invented languages. The mythical narrative of The Silmarillion transforms into a more folkloric narrative, although this transformation would be fully realized only in the stories of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Elves toe the line between the divine Valar and the mortal Men and their history, much like their existence, is a combination of both the ethereal and the unethereal.

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When the Vala Oromë found the Elves at Cuiviénen, he was first alerted to their presence by the sound of their singing voices and it was thus that the Valar found out about the coming of the Elves to Middle-earth. Fearing the presence of Morgoth the Valar decided to wage war against him and laid siege to his fortress at Utumno, to protect the Elves. Like most real-world mythologies Tolkien uses the language of myth to explain the geographical features of the world. Mary Lefkowitz writes –

Mythical historiography … is presented always as if it were the real thing. Its authors usually prefer not to reveal that they are the inventors of their narratives. Either they are anonymous or, like Plato, attribute the story to someone else, preferably to a dead person or foreigner who cannot be questioned, and set it in a remote or indefinite past, like the authentic myths which it mimics. Composers of mythical historiographers often cite documents that are lost or cannot be easily traced as the primary sources of their information. (358)

While Lefkowitz is referring to a type of historiography which can be found in ancient texts when the distinction between fact and myth was blurred to instil an element of popular interest in historical narratives, this methodology is used by Tolkien as a literary device. He deliberately presents his mythology as historical fact, attributing it to ancient rediscovered texts such as the Red Book of Westmarch. In doing so he successfully draws a bridge between the universe of his created world and the real world. This bridge connects not only cultural and social aspects of civilization but also the geographical nature of the world. The Battle of Powers between the Valar and Morgoth has physical consequences for the shape of the land. Earlier the destruction of the Two Lamps by Morgoth had marred Arda and cleaved it into three separate landmasses, now the Battle of Powers continued this process of reshaping the physical world –

In that time the shape of Middle-earth was changed, and the Great Sea that sundered it from Aman grew wide and deep; and it broke in upon the coasts and made a deep gulf to the southward. Many lesser bays were made between the Great Gulf and Helcaraxë far in the north, where Middle-earth and Aman came nigh together. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 48)

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This passage from The Silmarillion can be seen as a mythical explanation for the shape of the European landmass. This is only one in the series of re-shapings of the world in Tolkien’s mythopoeia which ultimately culminate in the formation of real world geographical features connecting history with myth. The theory that evil as well as good are both responsible for the formation of the world persists, similar to how the Music containing both harmony and discord led to the creation of the world.

The early history of the Elvish race as narrated in The Silmarillion is a story of migration. It is through migration that the various tribes and sub-races of Elves form as they settle in certain geographical locations, or linger for a while in others, leaving parts of their group behind, creating off-shoots and tribes that are identified by the nature and fate of their journey. The dominant anthropological theory that modern humans and their ancestors first evolved in the African continent and migrated in waves to the rest of the landmasses of the world can be seen as a parallel to the journey of the Elves and their geographical and racial identities. As humans spread over Eurasia and further, they acquired not only distinct cultural identities but also ethnic diversity. Similarly the Elves of Tolkien’s myth are not fairytale creatures whose existence is explained as a magical occurrence. Their evolution is described in anthropological terms. The process of migrations and settlements create not just ethnic diversity but also class and hierarchy in their social system. This structure is developed by means of what is called the Sundering of the Elves. To sunder is to divide or to split apart and Tolkien’s Elves are a divided people. They do not possess a singular communal identity except in biological terms. Tolkien’s created races mimic real-world diversity and display a complex structure of sub-races each with distinct identities. The evolution of language also occurs within this structure. Verlyn Flieger writes in Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World –

Recent information in “The Llhamas” and “the Etymologies” sections of The Lost Road, and in the long essay on “Quendi and Eldar” in The War of the Jewels, makes it clear that Tolkien was working from the Indo-European model of a proto-language diving and sub-dividing into a branching tree of language families … the concept is one of increasing separation. (71)

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Tolkien’s scientific approach in the development of the cultural and linguistic structures of his mythopoeic universe contributes to the complexity of his narrative.

The reason that the Elves became a sundered people was because of the summons issued by the Valar inviting all Elves to dwell with them in Valinor, Middle-earth being deemed too dangerous and impure for existence of immortal beings such as Elves. This invitation would seal the fate of the Elves as a perpetually displaced people, forever in the process of a long migration, divided by their choice.

The Valar summoned the Quendi to Valinor, there to be gathered at the knees of the Powers in the light of the Trees for ever; and Mandos broke his silence saying: ‘So it is doomed.’ From this summons came many woes that afterwards befell. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 49)

Before the sundering, the Elves at Cuiviénen were already divided into three tribes – the Minyar, the Tatyar and the Nelyar. When they were summoned there were some Elves among the Tatyar and the Nelyar who refused to leave and instead preferred to stay in the familiar land of their awakening.

But many refused the summons, preferring the starlight and the wide spaces of Middle-earth to the rumour of the Trees; and these are the Avari, the Unwilling, and they were sundered in that time from the Eldar, and met never again until many ages were past. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 50)

Those who agreed to answer the call were thereafter called the Eldar and began their process of migration to Valinor. They were composed of three separate hosts – the Vanyar, the Noldor and the Teleri. While the Vanyar and the Noldor both reached Valinor, the Teleri got further divided as some refused to cross the Misty Mountains and became the Nandor, and others who reached Beleriand but did not cross the sea to Valinor became the Sindar. The Elves that did reach Valinor and beheld the light of the Two Trees were known as the Calaquendi or Elves of the Light and the Avari along with the tarrying Teleri were known as the Morquendi or Elves of the Darkness. The universality that Tolkien ascribes of the symbol of the Light from the Two Trees within his own legendarium becomes apparent when we talk about the social structure and

43 classification of the Elves. Those who see the Light are clearly seen as superior to those who are deprived of it. Light here can be equated with religious faith. The faithful abide by the orders of the gods and are blessed while the faithless doubt their wisdom or are distracted by the beauty of the physical world they perceive and are deprived of this special blessing. The sundering of the Elves is therefore as much a result of ideological difference as it is a natural consequence of the spread of civilization.

Central to the narrative of The Silmarillion is, as the name suggests, the story of the creation and theft of the Silmarils, three jewels created out of the light of the Two Trees. The role of jewels and other precious trinkets in Tolkien’s legendarium is an interesting one. Whether they are composed of ‘good’ like the Silmarils or ‘evil’ like the One Ring, they equally breed covetousness and greed in those who seek to possess them. Possession is seen as a pitfall that drives people towards evil. The principle moral problem is materialism versus spiritualism. The greatest sin of Morgoth is his desire to create, separate from Ilúvatar. Even Aulë is chastised for his creation of the Dwarves without the will of Ilúvatar. The creation of an object of immense power leads to a sense of entitlement and possession and ultimately results in pride. Only Ilúvatar himself is capable of wielding absolute power without corruption. The Silmarils are created by Fëanor, the son of Finwë who is the High King of the Noldor. He crafted them out of a crystalline substance and captured in them the light of the Two Trees – “And the inner fire of the Silmarils Fëanor made of the blended light of the Trees of Valinor, which lives in them yet, though the Trees have long withered and shine no more” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 68). The significance of the Silmarils lies in their uniqueness as the sole carriers of the Light after the destruction of the Two Trees. The influence of the Silmarils extends through the entirety of the legendarium. As Jason Fisher writes – “Among the most important artifacts of Tolkien’s subcreation, the Silmarils of Fëanor significantly undergird the majority of the early legends and even find later echoes in the events of the War of the Ring” (612). The wars that were fought for the possession of the Silmarils and the losses incurred thereafter shaped the history of Arda and defined the position of the Elves within Tolkien’s myth.

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The primary nature of evil in Tolkien is of a corrupting influence. Evil becomes stronger by spreading, by acquiring allies and by bending others to its will. There are various forms of corruption seen throughout Tolkien’s narratives – corruption of land, corruption of a people and corruption of the individual. The corruption of land can be seen through an ecocritical lens as the loss of the natural world through deliberate assault. Tolkien’s lands do not get destroyed as a result of natural decay, but are directly affected by the agency of evil, the marring of Arda being a case in point. Individual corruption, for example, that of the ring bearers due to prolonged proximity to the One Ring in The Lord of the Rings, is achieved by manipulating the weakness of the individual. Men are more susceptible to being corrupted by the Ring than the hobbits because they have a greater sense of greed and ambition compared to the ‘simpler’ hobbits. The corruption of a people is more complex and has ramifications for an entire race. Tolkien’s theory (which he later revised) about orcs originating from the mutilation of Elves is an example of how corruption by evil can breed an entire race dedicated to the service of evil –

Those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they are afterwards the bitterest of foes. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 47)

Evil is personified in Tolkien through figures like Morgoth and Sauron. As mentioned earlier, there are various similarities between Morgoth and the Biblical Satan. Much like Satan, Morgoth is a ‘fallen angel’ as he falls from the ranks of the Ainur and stands defiant to the will of Ilúvatar. Both get their respective ‘villain names’ – Lucifer becomes Satan and Melkor becomes Morgoth, and most importantly they are both corrupters who wish to drag down the rest of creation with them. Their evil is an ambitious evil, eager to colonize the world. Morgoth is the classic villain – resentful and power hungry. Like Satan he is a whisperer who uses the power of rumour and suggestion to first gain control over the mind of his victims before launching a physical assault.

The events in The Silmarillion, which led to the rebellion of Fëanor against the Valar, were in many ways influenced by the whisperings of Morgoth –

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Thus with lies and evil whisperings and false counsel Melkor kindled the hearts of the Noldor to strife; and of their quarrels came at length the end of the high days of Valinor and the evening of its ancient glory. For Fëanor now began openly to speak of words of rebellion against the Valar. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 71)

By creating a schism between the Valar and the Eldar, Morgoth manages to weaken them enough to launch an attack upon Valinor with Ungoliant, destroying the Two Trees and bringing about the darkening of Valinor. With the Trees gone and their only remaining light left in the Silmarils, the Valar’s request for the Silmarils to rekindle the light of the Trees ignites further mistrust and paranoia in Fëanor whose mind had already been poisoned by Morgoth. After Morgoth stole the Silmarils killing Finwë, king of the Noldor and father to Fëanor, Fëanor along with his sons swore an oath to recover the Silmarils at any cost. The importance of this oath lies in how it would ultimately result in the Doom of the Noldor – the many tragedies that befell them and the terrible wars fought on account of it –

Vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 89)

The language of the oath foreshadows the all-encompassing nature of its consequences. The resulting war for the possession of the Silmarils would stretch across generations, different races and the entire First Age. The desire for possession of material objects, be it the Silmarils, the One Ring or the Arkenstone, proves to be the undoing of many despite their original virtue. Fëanor too becomes a victim of his weakness for the Silmarils and in spite of being one of the greatest of the Elves, is also the cause for their doom. The leitmotif of the Fall has been used by Tolkien throughout his narrative and this is its second instance in the chronology of the legendarium after the fall of Morgoth. As Adam and Eve fall and have to leave Eden, so do the Elves (specifically the Noldor) as they take flight from Valinor in pursuit of Morgoth and the Silmarils.

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The history of the First Age of Middle-earth concerns itself primarily with the struggle for the recovery of the Silmarils and ends ultimately with the banishment of Morgoth into the Void. In many ways the First Age is considerably more epic and mediaeval in tone than the subsequent ages. The reason for this is that it is almost entirely concerned with the affairs of the Elves and the Valar. Mortals, namely Men, Dwarves and hobbits, do not yet have a significant part to play. The protagonists are the Elves who are presented as flawed, but ultimately otherworldly beings who unlike characters like Frodo or Bilbo do not connect with the readers in a personal and intimate way. Their very immortality lends an obscurity to their character which gives the First Age Elves a more legendary rather than fictional nature. The stories of The Silmarillion are told in epic language instead of the more familiar tone adopted in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Subsequently, it reads more like a history book than any of the later works by Tolkien. Therefore like most mediaeval historical accounts the narrative revolves around a series of wars between different powerful factions. This period in Elvish history is the bloodiest and most tragic as they suffer many losses, not just through their war with Morgoth but also as a result of internal conflict.

The Kinslaying at Alqualondë is the first of the chain of violence instigated by the Noldor and results in their Doom. Reaching the shores of Valinor and needing ships to cross the sea to Middle-earth, the Noldor asked the Teleri for their ships but were refused due to the Teleri’s loyalty to the Valar. This results in a battle in which both sides lose many people and the Teleri especially are slaughtered and their ships taken. This act of kinslaying can be seen as the ultimate sin and betrayal. It seals the fate of the Noldor as renegades. Kinslaying is portrayed by Tolkien as a particularly horrific part of the war for the Silmarils and there would subsequently be two other instances of kinslaying before the conflict is finally ended. Jane Chance writes –

The exile of antihero Fëanor from the paradise of Valinor in the expulsion of the Noldor after his role in the Kin-Slaying very much resembles that of Cain for his own kin-slaying, of Abel. (180)

Kinslaying, in this case, can therefore be compared to the Biblical story of Cain and Abel. It is the first time in both stories that the chosen creations of God spill each other’s blood.

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Therefore a certain taboo is broken and signals an end of innocence for the entire race. The horror of this event leads to the Doom of the Noldor or the Doom of Mandos, who delivered the words of the prophetic curse –

On the House of Feanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 95)

Therefore the tragic irony of the Noldor, especially Fëanor, is that in their greed for the possession of the Silmarils they themselves get dispossessed. This state of dispossession ultimately becomes the fate of the whole Elven race in Middle-earth. A lack of belonging accompanied by a sense of longing for Valinor would characterize their entire stint in Middle-earth. It is similar to the Christian belief that the Earth is just a temporary home for humankind and true happiness can only be found in Heaven.

The Battles of Beleriand or the War of the Jewels were a series of battles fought between the Elves and Morgoth during the First Age. When Morgoth reached Middle- earth he decided to conquer Beleriand and was challenged by the Elves who had remained in Middle-earth. They were led by Thingol or Elwë who was one of the first Elvish leaders of the Teleri (now the Sindar) and ruled the idyllic kingdom of Doriath. Thingol is one of the most romantic figures in the legendarium. He fell in love with and married Melian, a Maia, and they had a daughter Lúthien, who would become one of the central figures in the War of the Jewels. The First Battle of Beleriand was followed by the arrival of the Noldor in Middle-earth. Subsequently five other major battles were fought between the Noldor and the forces of Morgoth before the final battle, the War of Wrath that ended the First Age. Fëanor died soon after his arrival in Middle-earth in the Second Battle of Beleriand, Dagor-nuin-Giliath or the Battle-under-Stars. Fëanor’s death did not diminish the fervour of the Noldor and his sons continued their ceaseless pursuit of the Silmarils at their father’s behest.

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He cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and laid it upon his sons to hold to their oath, and to avenge their father. Then he died … Thus ended the mightiest of the Noldor, of whose deeds came both their greatest renown and their most grievous woe. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 121)

Fëanor is the perfect example of the anti-hero. Perhaps no other character in the legendarium is as conflicted between the powers of good and evil as Fëanor. In both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings Tolkien chose for his protagonists the hobbits, Bilbo and Frodo. Hobbits are underdog heroes. Their strength lies in their lack of interest in the acquisition of power. Albus Dumbledore, a character in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series says, “Perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it” (Rowling 718). This is a sentiment which seems to be Tolkien’s stance regarding power. The hobbits succeed as heroes because they do not seek power for themselves. Conversely, the characters with whom Fëanor can be compared are Boromir in The Lord of the Rings and Thorin in The Hobbit, both of whom get seduced by the power contained in other jewels, namely the One Ring and the Arkenstone, and meet similar ends as Fëanor.

The War of the Jewels continued long after the death of Fëanor and involved a great number of characters of different races of Middle-earth. The most important among these are Beren and Lúthien. The first version of their story was published as the ‘Tale of Tinúviel’ in The Book of Lost Tales. Later developments led to the version published in The Silmarillion. It is the story of the Elf-maiden Lúthien and the mortal man Beren who fall in love and their actions are instrumental in the War of the Jewels. To prevent their union Lúthien’s father Thingol set Beren the task of recovering a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown. Against all odds, Beren and Lúthien ultimately succeeded. However Beren first lost his hand and later his life to the werewolf Carcaroth, a servant of Morgoth. The influence of Welsh and Norse myths are quite apparent in this episode. Tom Shippey writes that, “The hunting of the great wolf recalls the chase of the boar Twrch Trwyth in the Welsh Mabinogion, while the motif of 'the hand in the wolf's mouth' is one of the most famous parts of the Prose Edda, told of Fenris Wolf and the god Tyr” (243). When Beren dies Lúthien herself dies of grief and passes into the Halls of Mandos

49 where she sings to him and being moved to pity he intervenes on her behalf and Ilúvatar himself grants both Beren and Lúthien a second life as mortals. The union of Beren and Lúthien is significant as one of three between Elves and Men and spawns the race of the Half-Elven, who play a major role in the later ages of Middle-earth. The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings mirrors that of Beren and Lúthien and contains similar literary tropes. The folkloric, quest-style narrative is reminiscent of the folktales such as the Welsh Culhwch and Olwen. The Tale of Beren and Lúthien was especially important to Tolkien because the inspiration for Lúthien’s character was his own wife Edith. Humphrey Carpenter writes –

Near Roos they found a small wood with an undergrowth of hemlock, and there they wandered. Ronald recalled of Edith as she was at this time: ‘Her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes bright, and she could sing - and dance.’ She sang and danced for him in the wood, and from this came the story that was to be the centre of The Silmarillion: the tale of the mortal man Beren who loves the immortal elven-maid Lúthien Tinúviel, whom he first sees dancing among hemlock in a wood. (99)

Another important tale in the mythos of the Silmarils is that of Eärendil the Mariner and his voyage to Valinor. After much strife, and through wars and kinslayings by the sons of Fëanor, the Silmaril recovered by Beren and Lúthien comes into the possession of Elwing, their granddaughter. Elwing marries Eärendil and together they journey to Valinor to entreat the Valar to intervene and save Middle-earth from the devastation of the war. Tolkien, in creating the legend of Earendil, was inspired by Anglo-Saxon poetry. Carpenter writes –

Among these was the Crist of Cynewulf, a group of Anglo-Saxon religious poems. Two lines from it struck him forcibly:

Eala Earendel engla beorhtast

ofer middangeard monnum sended.

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‘Hail Earendel, brightest of angels/above the middle-earth sent unto men.’ Earendel is glossed by the Anglo-Saxon dictionary as 'a shining light, ray', but here it clearly has some special meaning. (67)

The image of a star shining over ‘Middle-earth’ seems to have stuck with Tolkien and led to the conception of Eärendil’s ultimate fate as a star that shines with the Silmaril he carries, as he sails the sky in his ship, the Vingilot –

Eärendil the Mariner sat at the helm, glistening with dust of elven-gems, and the Silmaril was bound upon his brow. Far he journeyed in that ship, even into the starless voids; but most often was he seen at morning or at evening, glimmering in sunrise or sunset, as he came back to Valinor from voyages beyond the confines of the world. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 300)

It is clear by the description of his appearance that Eärendil is meant to represent the planet Venus which is often called the ‘morning star’ or the ‘evening star’ in literature and poetry. In fact, in reference to the lines in the Anglo-Saxon poem, Tolkien wrote in a letter –

To my mind the Anglo-Saxon uses seem plainly to indicate that it was a star presaging the dawn (at any rate in English tradition): that is what we now call Venus: the morning-star as it may be seen shining brilliantly in the dawn, before the actual rising of the Sun. That is at any rate how I took it. (Letters 385)

This reflects yet again Tolkien’s repeated attempts to simulate mythological writing by connecting his myths with real-world counterparts. An interesting coincidence worth mentioning is that the first spacecraft to have flown by the planet Venus was NASA’s Mariner 2, which seems like an unintended homage to Eärendil the Mariner.

The War of Wrath was the final battle fought in the First Age and brought an end to the dominion of Morgoth over Middle-earth. The host of the Valar, composed of the Vanyar, and the Noldor that had remained in Valinor, set sail on the ships of the Teleri and met the forces of Morgoth in battle and finally defeated him. Elrond in The Lord of the Rings compares the War of Wrath with the Last Alliance of Men and Elves –

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I remember well the splendour of their banners ... It recalled to me the glory of the Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever. (Tolkien, Lord 243)

An interesting implication of this comparison is that both these wars that brought an end to an era of evil were fought by a united people. Like the alliance of Men and Elves, the host of the Valar too was a coalition of the different tribes of the Elves. Elven-kind which had been sundered, and further drawn apart by the kinslayings of the Noldor, could only be strong enough to defeat their ultimate enemy by becoming a combined force. It is interesting that Tolkien, in spite of the divisions and sub-divisions he created in the social structure of his mythical universe, had a rather holistic worldview. This is apparent also in the later composition of the Fellowship of the Ring which had members from all the races of Middle-earth working towards a common goal.

The War of Wrath concluded with the destruction of Beleriand, most parts of which sank into the sea. The remaining two Silmarils were recovered from Melkor’s crown but they were stolen yet again by Maedhros and Maglor, the surviving sons of Fëanor. However they could not bear the pain of holding the Silmarils and Maedhros cast himself into a chasm of fire and Maeglor cast the Silmaril in the sea. This harkens back to Varda’s hallowing of the Silmarils –

And Varda hallowed the Silmarils, so that thereafter no mortal flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered; and Mandos foretold that the fates of Arda, earth, sea, and air, lay locked within them. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 69)

This acts as a prophecy as the three Silmarils find their final rest – “one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 305). Thus ends the saga of the Silmarils as they are reclaimed by Arda itself and become part of its very fabric. Rather than being left to the easily corrupted inhabitants of the world, nature is deemed a more appropriate receptacle of ultimate power, revealing Tolkien’s deep love and respect for nature. Meanwhile

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Morgoth’s ultimate fate is his banishment to the Void. However his influence upon the world is still a force to be reckoned with –

Yet the lies that Melkor, the mighty and accursed, Morgoth Bauglir, the Power of Terror and of Hate, sowed in the hearts of Elves and Men are a seed that does not die and cannot be destroyed; and ever and anon it sprouts anew, and will bear dark fruit even unto the latest days. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 306)

Though Tolkien often rejected the idea of allegory this passage can be interpreted to allude not just to the later events in the legendarium narrated in The Lord of the Rings, but also to the nature of reality in the actual, primary world which is characterized by the resurgence of evil at various stages in its timeline.

The Silmarillion deals mainly with the affairs of the Firstborn Children of Ilúvatar, the Elves. Middle-earth in the First Age was chiefly their realm, however the summons for the Elves had already been issued and it was understood that the inheritors of the land would be the Younger Children of Ilúvatar – the mortal race of Men. The Doom of Mandos prophesied how Middle-earth would inevitably become the domain of Men –

And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 95)

While the fate of the Elves is defined in the legendarium, that of the Men is much more ambiguous. Even the Valar are not entirely aware of what would become the ultimate destiny of Men. Even the Vision, the manifestation of the Music of the Ainur, is uncertain in this regard –

The vision ceased ere the fulfillment of the Dominion of Men and the fading of the Firstborn; wherefore, though the Music is over all, the Valar have not seen as with sight the Later Ages or the ending of the World. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 9)

The ambiguity seems to be an intentional technique used by Tolkien to yet again link his secondary universe with the primary. Unlike the originators of real-world mythologies,

53 which were based upon ancient religious thought, Tolkien was a man of the modern world. He realized that mythical writings could never hope to accurately predict the advancement of human civilization. The prophecies regarding the fate of humanity in ancient mythologies seem ridiculous and fantastical in nature if one were to consider them seriously in the present context. There are mentions in Tolkien’s writings of a final battle, the Dagor Dagorath, which would take place at the end of the world and has been likened to the Norse Ragnarok. However these writings have undergone considerable revisions by both Tolkien and his son Christopher and the final consensus seems to be that the fate of the human race is at best unknown. Perhaps Tolkien wanted to make the narrative of his legendarium as logical as it is possible within the confines of mythical language, in keeping with the modern faith in free will.

When the Years of the Sun started, the cosmology of Middle-earth began to closely resemble the real world. Men therefore awoke in a world that was similar to the world that we currently inhabit. The length of the days, the passage of time itself is described as having sped up in accordance with the briefer lifespan of human beings –

From this time forth were reckoned the Years of the Sun. Swifter and briefer are they than the long Years of the Trees in Valinor. In that time the air of Middle- earth became heavy with the breath of growth and mortality, and the changing and ageing of all things was hastened exceedingly; life teemed upon the soil and in the waters in the Second Spring of Arda. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 115)

Since the legendarium was a way for Tolkien to envisage a mythology of England, the Men that came in the First Age are clearly Eurocentric representations. Christine Chism writes –

Critics who accuse Tolkien of racism fall into three camps: those who see him as intentionally racist; those who see him as having passively absorbed the racism or Eurocentrism of his time; and those who, tracing an evolution in his writing, see him becoming aware of a racism/Eurocentrism implicit in his early works and taking care to counter it in his later ones. (558)

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There have been various charges of racism against Tolkien and one of the most damning is that the Men in Tolkien’s writings are grouped into good and bad according to the regions of the world that they inhabit. The West is an almost sacred direction in the mythos. The Valar reside in the West, the Elves are summoned to the West, and even as a relative direction the West of Middle-earth is a superior region where all of the better people of Middle-earth reside. Even the sun when it first rises in Middle-earth, rises from the West. Therefore it is no surprise that even though Men first become conscious in the eastern parts of Middle-earth their loyalty and fascination is with the West –

At the first rising of the Sun the Younger Children of Iluvatar awoke in the land of Hildorien in the eastward regions of Middle-earth; but the first Sun arose in the West, and the opening eyes of Men were turned towards it, and their feet as they wandered over the Earth for the most part strayed that way. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 115)

The Eurocentric origins prevalent in Tolkien’s narratives can come across as a racist idea. However, keeping in context the time of writing and the fact that Tolkien was conceiving a mythology specifically for England, it might be considered that Tolkien’s racism is a more innate, of-the-times phenomenon, than a blatant deliberately discriminatory example of it. At the same time one cannot ignore the fact that Tolkien’s representation of non-Western humans is not just of benign disinterest, which could be chalked up to his specific interest in England, but is also explicitly biased as can be seen from his representation of various races of Men like the Haradrim and the Easterlings.

It should also be noted that the mention of mortal women in Tolkien’s legendarium is few and far between. While female Elves and Valier get considerable if not equal mention, the virtually non-existent mortal women seem to be on the lowest rung of the ladder of Tolkien’s social hierarchy, with a few exceptions like Niënor of the Children of Húrin narrative and Éowyn of Rohan in The Lord of the Rings. Even marriages between a mortal woman and an Elf are unheard of, because such alliances in the legendarium typically follow the fairy-tale trope of ‘poor man falls in love with the princess’ and gets socially elevated as a consequence. Therefore a mortal man can hope to equal an immortal woman, but the opposite would be an instance of an immortal

55 marrying ‘beneath’ him. The very race of human beings is called Men instead of the more gender neutral term Elves. Women are only deemed worth mentioning if they possess qualities that are exceptional and traditionally feminine, like incredible physical beauty, which is often only possible in the case of immortals. Tolkien is therefore clearly guilty of judging his females characters by much higher, almost impossible standards than his men.

The Valar’s relationship with Men is also very different to their relationship with the Elves. Unlike the Elves, Men are not directly guided by the Valar, nor do they come into contact with them. This can yet again be seen as way to explain real world religion in which there is no evidentiary proof of the existence of higher powers –

There came no Vala to guide Men, or to summon them to dwell in Valinor; and Men have feared the Valar, rather than loved them, and have not understood the purposes of the Powers, being at variance with them, and at strife with the world…messages came often to them by stream and flood. But they have not skill in such matters…Therefore they loved the waters, and their hearts were stirred, but they understood not the messages. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 115-116)

The above passage can be seen as Tolkien’s comment on the state of religious faith during his time. Himself a devout Catholic, Tolkien clearly combined his love for nature with his Christian faith and believed that the natural world is an expression of the intelligent design of God. However the increasing loss of faith in the 20th century industrialized Europe combined with a disregard for nature was one of the driving forces of Tolkien’s environmental vision. The lack of understanding of Men of the inherent messages in nature regarding the existence of Valar is an important point in this regard.

One of the most important aspects of the mythology regarding Men in Middle- earth is the ‘Gift of Men’. This gift given to Men or Atani, as they were called in the early days of the legendarium, is the gift of mortality. As Ilúvatar declares in The Silmarillion that as opposed to the immortality granted to the Elves, “to the Atani I will give a new gift” (Tolkien, Silmarillion,35). Beren was the only mortal man to return from the unknown fate of death.

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Men were more frail, more easily slain by weapon or mischance, and less easily healed; subject to sickness and many ills; and they grew old and died. What may befall their spirits after death the Elves know not … The fate of Men after death, maybe, is not in the hands of the Valar, nor was all foretold in the Music of the Ainur. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 117)

This Gift is a source of curiosity and even envy among the Elves as it a special fate known only to Ilúvatar. This kind of ‘gap’ in the mythology connects Tolkien’s imaginary world with the real world and reconciles his Christian faith with the created religion of his legendarium.

A history of Men in Middle-earth during the First Age recounts their first contact with the Elves and also with Morgoth who managed to corrupt some tribes of men to his purposes. Men were named Edain by the Elves in the First Age, specifically those men who aided the Elves in their fight against Morgoth in the War of the Jewels. Atanatári is a term used for the ‘Fathers of Men’, the ancestors of the Edain. Three important houses of Men were the House of Bëor, the House of Haleth and the House of Hador. These groups came in close contact with the Elves and were granted lands in Beleriand to live in when they came into the West. While Men were considered lesser beings by most Elves on account of their brief lives and affinity to sickness and old age, they were nevertheless instrumental in the War of the Jewels. Beren of the House of Bëor and Túrin Turambar of the House of Hador are especially important in the events of the First Age. The blood of Men also mingled with that of Elves and created the race of Half-Elven who had the choice between mortality and immortality and played a central role in the First Age, such as Eärendil one of the most celebrated characters in the legendarium. At the beginning of the Second Age after the War of Wrath the Edain were granted the island kingdom of Númenor, which was located in the Great Sea between Valinor and Middle-earth, as a reward for their service, where they were known as the Dúnedain. Led by Elros, the son of Eärendil who chose mortality, the Dúnedain over many generations became corrupt and ambitious and their greed for immortality finally led to their downfall and the Fall of Númenor which is related in the ‘Akallabêth’. The descendants of the Dúnedain who

57 escaped after the Fall to Middle-earth formed the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor and were later involved in the War of the Ring in the Third Age.

It has already been discussed how the leitmotif of the Fall has been repeatedly used by Tolkien in his legendarium, and especially in The Silmarillion, as an important part of his plot structure. The words ‘Fall’, ‘Ruin’ and ‘Marring’ have been used in relation with various events in Middle-earth history. The Marring of Arda, the Doom of the Noldor, the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Númenor are some of the turning points in the narrative. Tolkien uses these terms in various chapter titles of The Silmarillion, such as – ‘Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin’, ‘Of the Ruin of Doriath’ and ‘Of Tuor and the Fall of Gondolin’. These various instances of ‘Falls’ are not just an indication of the end of a civilization, but also have a deep impact upon the lands inhabited by these civilizations. The relationship between the land and the actions of those that dwell in it is according to Tolkien an important one as these actions directly affect the state of the land.

The principle scene of action in the First Age is the realm of Beleriand. It is the north-western part of the continent of Middle-earth and it is here that all the major Elven kingdoms and early settlements of Men are located. Tolkien’s love of all things green is well known. He equates trees and greenery with good, and barrenness with evil. The description of Beleriand is typical of this viewpoint. In the northernmost part of Beleriand was the region dominated by the evil forces of Morgoth. Since northern regions in European sensibilities are associated with cold and desolation this is not surprising. Two of Melkor’s most important strongholds – Utumno and Angband are situated here. The images used to describe these regions are indicative of an industrial environment devoid of the beauties of nature –

Made of the ash and slag of his subterranean furnaces, and the vast refuse of his tunnellings. They were black and desolate and exceedingly lofty; and smoke issued from their tops, dark and foul upon the northern sky … filth and desolation spread southward for many miles over the wide plain. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 134)

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The otherwise fair region of Hisilome which lay near Angband is called the Land of Mist “because of the clouds that Morgoth sent thither” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 135), which is strongly reminiscent of the rapid increase in pollution in the industrial cities of England.

During the Siege of Angband which was a period of peace in Beleriand a number of Elven realms flourished. Hithlum, Nargothrond, Dorthonian, Gondolin, Doriath, East Beleriand and numerous other regions were settled by the Elves. The River Sirion was the most important river in Beleriand and the region around it the richest and most populous –

Now the great and fair country of Beleriand lay on either side of the mighty river Sirion, renowned in song, which rose at Eithel Sirion and skirted the edge of Ard- galen ere he plunged through the pass, becoming ever fuller with the streams of the mountains. Thence he flowed south for one hundred and thirty leagues, gathering the waters of many tributaries, until with a mighty flood he reached his many mouths and sandy delta in the Bay of Balar. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 136-137)

Fed by various rivers and made richer and more beautiful by the nature-loving Elves, Beleriand thrived for a time in the First Age. Doriath, ruled by Thingol and protected by the girdle of Melian, was particularly utopian in nature. However the ravages of war that the Noldor and Melkor brought to Middle-earth eventually began to take a toll upon these lands. First Doriath and then Gondolin were sacked and left in ruins. There were various other assaults on peaceful regions, like the Falas at the mouth of the Sirion and Nargothrond, which ended the idyllic existence enjoyed by the Elves in those regions. Finally at the end of the War of Wrath the entire northern part of Beleriand was destroyed and sank into the sea, once again permanently changing the shape of the land after the Marring of Arda –

And they looked upon a world that was changed. For so great was the fury of those adversaries that the northern regions of the western world were rent asunder, and the sea roared in through many chasms, and there was confusion and great noise; and rivers perished or found new paths, and the valleys were

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upheaved and the hills trod down; and Sirion was no more. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 303)

Thus the entire coastline of Middle-earth was altered. This second great change in the geography is a symbol of the consequences of war. Tolkien himself took active part in the First World War and was well aware of its horrors. Many critics believe that the Wars had a profound effect on his writing, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the aftermaths of the fictional wars he created.

The ‘Akallabêth’ section of The Silmarillion relates the story of the Dúnedain in Númenor. After the Númenoreans flouted the authority of the Valar, Númenor was destroyed by the Valar as punishment. This is Tolkien’s version of the Atlantis myth. The word Akallabêth translates to Atalantë in Adûnaic, the language of the Dúnedain, and means the ‘Downfallen’. In a letter written in 1964, Tolkien writes, “It is a curious chance that the stem √talat used in Q[uenya] for 'slipping, sliding, falling down', of which atalantie is a normal (in Q) noun-formation, should so much resemble Atlantis” (Letters 347). The passages describing the destruction of Númenor are some of the most horrifying and awe-inspiring of the text –

Ilúvatar showed forth his power, and he changed the fashion of the world; and a great chasm opened in the sea between Númenor and the Deathless Lands, and the waters flowed down into it, and the noise and smoke of the cataracts went up to heaven, and the world was shaken. And all the fleets of the Númenoreans were drawn down into the abyss, and they were drowned and swallowed up for ever. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 334)

The destruction of Númenor was not the only consequence of this incident. More significantly, an action of Ilúvatar which changed the world forever was the removal of Valinor from the Earth and its remoulding from a flat land to the spherical shaped planet that we live in today –

For Ilúvatar cast back the Great Seas west of Middle-earth, and the Empty Lands east of it, and new lands and new seas were made; and the world was diminished,

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for Valinor and Eressëa were taken from it into the realm of hidden things. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 334)

Therefore for the third time the shape of Arda was significantly changed and it finally began to resemble the current state of the Earth. Such developments in the narrative do not just advance the plot, but also serve as a bridge between the mythical universe of the secondary world and the actual universe of the real world.

The last section of The Silmarillion, ‘Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age’, gives a brief account of the events leading up to the War of the Ring in the Third Age, which forms the narrative of The Lord of the Rings. Christopher Tolkien’s inclusion of this section in the published version of The Silmarillion not only connects one text with the other but also serves the purpose of providing a complete account of the Elves in Middle-earth as the Third Age is their final one before they forever depart to Valinor. Tolkien is famous the world over primarily for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings which are his more popular texts. They tell stories which are more familiar to the casual reader and, in some opinions, more interesting and engaging than the narrative of The Silmarillion. However hardcore Tolkien enthusiasts hold The Silmarillion in the highest regard not only for its complex plot structure but the rich world-building that it provides. It is a treat for fans of Tolkien’s works because it expands upon the world that they first encounter in his other texts.

The Silmarillion is a dense text. It contains an absolute abundance of names of places and characters and its final narrative is a result of various stages of revisions and rewrites that can make it somewhat confusing to a reader uninitiated to the world of Tolkien’s legendarium. It flouts the conventions of the traditional novel style of writing and more closely resembles a historical treatise. Gergely Nagy writes –

The Silmarillion is primarily a context for The Lord of the Rings, explaining a number of allusions and references in the latter work. It epitomizes the unheard and often unknown ‘‘past’’ that lies behind the narrative of The Lord of the Rings and casts light on the characters in the privileged position of possessing knowledge about it. Indeed, The Silmarillion enhances the other work’s concern

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with the uses of the past, and provides us with useful clues as to the representation of culture as The Lord of the Rings conceives of it. (610)

In spite of being published much later than The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion is analysed in this thesis before the other two texts not only because it relates events that are chronologically first in the overarching narrative, but also because it acts as a base through which we can have a better understanding of the later tales of Middle- earth. It provides context and a sense of continuity.

One of the ‘flaws’ of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings is that while they do include Elves, their history and culture is discussed only in passing and it leaves the reader wanting more information about this fascinating race. The Silmarillion assuages this desire by providing an extremely rich and comprehensive account of the Elves in Middle-earth. It also acquaints the reader with Tolkien’s philological genius and provides a much more detailed description of the cosmology and geography of his imaginary universe. Perhaps the only disappointment in reading The Silmarillion is that each of the tales narrated in it are touched upon only very briefly and the potential for their expansion and further exploration is immense. This too has been amended in recent years by Christopher Tolkien with the publishing of various tales of The Silmarillion in long- form narrative like The Children of Húrin in 2007 and more recently Beren and Lúthien in 2017 and The Fall of Gondolin in 2018.

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Works Cited

Carpenter, Humphrey. J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000.

Chism, Chritine. “Racism, Charges Of.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, p. 588.

Dickerson, Matthew, and Jonathan Evans. Ents, Elves, and Eriador: The Environmental Vision of J.R.R. Tolkien. The University Press of Kentucky, 2006

Eden, Bradford Lee. “Elves.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 150–152.

Fisher, Jason. “Silmarils.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 612–613.

Flieger, Verlyn. Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World. Kent State University Press, 2002.

Chance, Jane. “J. R. R. Tolkien.” The Oxford Encyclopedia of British Literature, edited by David Scott Kastan, vol. 5, Oxford University Press, 2006.

Lefkowitz, Mary. “Historiography and Myth.” A Companion to the Philosophy of History and Historiography, edited by Aviezer Tucker, Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2009, pp. 353–361.

Nagy, Gergely. “Silmarillion, The.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 608–611.

Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Bloomsbury, 2007.

Shippey, Tom. The Road to Middle-earth: How J.R.R. Tolkien Created a New Mythology. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2003.

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Spangenberg, Lisa L. “Fairies.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 185–186.

Tolkien, J. R. R. Tales from the Perilous Realm. HarperCollinsPublishers, 2008.

–––––––– The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000.

–––––––– The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers, 2005.

–––––––– The Peoples of Middle-Earth. Edited by Christopher Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1996.

–––––––– The Silmarillion. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. HarperCollinsPublishers, 1999.

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Chapter 3

“Under the Hill and over the Hill” The Hobbit

Chapter 3

“Under the Hill and over the Hill”

The Hobbit

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit” – this vague albeit intriguing line was written by J.R.R. Tolkien on a blank page of one of the examination papers he was grading. The image is a simple one, yet as is typical for Tolkien; it suggests a vast realm of possibility. It is therefore no wonder that an idea conceived of in a flash of inspiration amidst the everyday mundane would go on to develop into The Hobbit, one of the most beloved tales of children’s literature in the English language. In a letter to W.H. Auden, Tolkien recounts this event –

All I remember about the start of The Hobbit is sitting correcting School Certificate papers in the everlasting weariness of that annual task forced on impecunious academics with children. On a blank leaf I scrawled: ‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.’ I did not and do not know why. I did nothing about it, for a long time, and for some years I got no further than the production of Thror’s Map. But it became The Hobbit in the early 1930s. (Letters 215)

This account brings to mind a similar origin story of another hugely popular children’s book. J.K. Rowling, the creator of the Harry Potter series, claims that the idea for the character sprung up in her mind while traveling on a train from Manchester to London. The parallel between these two stories can be observed in the fact that both authors trusted their artistic vision to an almost childlike burst of imagination. Many writers of children’s books, particularly of the fantasy genre, trace their interest in the subject to their own childhood.

Stories were told to children by their parents long before books were printed and published, in the form of oral transmissions that were handed down in communities through generations. Most of these stories were of a didactic and instructive nature used to impart moral values to children. With time and the advent of printing; fairy-tales, which were earlier part of oral traditions, began to be compiled. Writers like Charles

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Perrault, the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson collected fairy tales from different sources and parts of the world. Childhood gradually began to be viewed as a separate stage in life that deserved its own genre of literature. The ‘Golden Age of Children’s Literature’ began in the late 19th century during the Victorian era and continued until the Pre-War era in the early 20th century. During this period a number of books were written specially for children which have become classics of children’s literature. Tom Brown’s School Days (1857) by Thomas Hughes, Lewis Caroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass (1871), George MacDonald’s The Princess and the Goblin (1872), Treasure Island (1881-82) and Kidnapped (1886); both by Robert Louis Stevenson, Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book (1894), J.M. Barrie’s Peter and Wendy (1911), and many others, were all extremely popular when they were written and continue to inspire interest and exercise influence during the present times.

Tolkien grew up during the last days of the Golden Age and as a young boy was exposed to the Wonderland of Lewis Carroll’s works, to Arthurian legends and to the books of fantasy writers like George MacDonald, Andrew Lang and others. As Humphrey Carpenter recounts he was not “content merely to read about dragons. When he was about seven he began to compose his own story about a dragon” (25). Though the plot for this early attempt at writing is all but lost, it is interesting how The Hobbit is also a story about a dragon and is an indication of the author’s ability to put himself in a child’s frame of mind even in adulthood. Another interesting aspect of popular children’s fiction is how many of these books were written initially for the benefit of children known personally to the writers. The Chronicles of Narnia came into being as stories to amuse children who were displaced by the Second World War and were hosted by C.S. Lewis at his home in Oxfordshire. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland began as a tale told by Lewis Carroll to three little girls, including the titular Alice, on a boat ride on the Thames. Peter Pan was created in stories told by J.M. Barrie to the sons of his friend, one of whom was called Peter. Similarly, during his children’s early childhood, Tolkien would forever be devising new stories to entertain and amuse them. The most famous examples are the illustrated ‘Father Christmas Letters’ which he wrote to them and which became a yearly tradition.

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From simple beginnings the ‘Father Christmas Letters’ expanded to include many additional characters such as the Polar Bear who shares Father Christmas’s house, the Snow Man who is Father Christmas’s gardener, an elf named Ilbereth who is his secretary, snow-elves, gnomes, and in the caves beneath Father Christmas’s house a host of troublesome goblins. (Carpenter 160)

A fascinating aspect of Tolkien’s writings is how seemingly unrelated narratives contain elements of what would later be incorporated into his legendarium. Troublesome goblins living in caves recall the later rather more malevolent Goblins inside the Misty Mountains in The Hobbit. Therefore while The Hobbit definitely was written with literary intentions and ambitions, at its core lay the stories Tolkien told his children.

When the completed story was sent for publication to the offices of London publishers George Allen & Unwin, the first review for it was written by Stanley Unwin’s ten year old son Rayner, who wrote –

(Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit who lived in his hobbit-hole and never went for adventures, at last Gandalf the wizard and his dwarves perswaded [sic] him to go. He had a very exiting [sic] time fighting goblins and wargs. at last they got to the lonley [sic] mountain; Smaug, the dragon who gaureds [sic] it is killed and after a terrific battle with the goblins

67 he returned home - rich! This book, with the help of maps, does not need any illustrations it is good and should appeal to all children between the ages of 5 and 9.)

It is therefore with the stamp of approval from its intended audience that The Hobbit was published on 21 September 1937. The exciting adventure of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins as he joins a company of thirteen Dwarves (Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fíli, Kíli, Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur) to help them reclaim their lost home from the evil dragon Smaug, aided by the itinerant wizard Gandalf; met with universal acclaim from both critics and readers. Rayner at his young age could not have anticipated that the appeal of the book would be such that it would be enjoyed by children and adults alike, as all great works of children’s literature are. The initial 1,500 copies printed were sold out by the end of that year and the book was immediately sent for a second printing. An American edition by Houghton Mifflin was quickly released in 1938. Barring paper shortages during the war, The Hobbit has subsequently remained in print. It received a nomination for the Carnegie Medal and was given a prize for best juvenile fiction of the year by the New York Herald Tribune in 1938. Its enduring popularity is perhaps a testament to its almost democratic conception – written for children, reviewed by a child and created by an adult who himself hearkened back to the fantasies and imaginations of his own childhood – it was the perfect recipe for an emotionally and intellectually satisfying children’s novel and work of high fantasy.

The Hobbit is today regarded as part of Tolkien’s overarching narrative that began with The Silmarillion and concluded with The Lord of the Rings, with The Hobbit being seen as more of a prequel to The Lord of the Rings than it being the other way around. It was in fact the latter book which was written as a sequel to The Hobbit as demands for more stories about hobbits came from publishers and readers alike. Tolkien now began to place the story about Bilbo and the Dwarves in context of the mythological framework he had created in the yet unpublished tales of The Silmarillion.

Tolkien had at first no intention that the bourgeois comfortable world of Bilbo Baggins would be related in any way to the vast mythological landscape of The Silmarillion. Gradually, however, elements from his mythology began to creep in … Soon it was apparent that the journey of Bilbo Baggins and his companions lay

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across a corner of that Middle-earth which had its earlier history chronicled in The Silmarillion. In Tolkien’s words this was ‘the world into which Mr Baggins strayed’. And if the events of the new story were clearly set long after those of The Silmarillion, then, since the earlier chronicles recorded the history of the First and Second Ages of Middle-earth, it appeared that The Hobbit was to be a tale of the Third Age. (Carpenter 173)

While Tolkien gradually moulded his new fairy story with his older mythopoeic tales, The Hobbit retains a certainly individuality of tone and structure even though the narrative has been incorporated into one single narrative. It would take another twelve years for The Lord of the Rings to be completed in 1949 and finally published in 1954. During this period Tolkien revised parts of The Hobbit to make it compatible with The Lord of the Rings and a second edition was published in 1951. As the concept of the One Ring developed in its association with Sauron, Gollum’s character was changed and became more antagonistic to reflect its corrupting influence upon him. While this smoothened out the proposed continuity of the narrative, the fact remains that The Hobbit is still significantly different both tonally and structurally. Using simple straightforward prose, it has an episodic plot and the basic structure of a quest. While it shares this structure with The Lord of the Rings, it distinguishes itself by its light-hearted and humourous tone in contrast with the occasional humour of The Lord of the Rings and the consistently sombre tone of The Silmarillion.

Tolkien is today known chiefly for his most iconic work The Lord of the Rings, yet the seeds of its narrative were sown much before in The Hobbit. But its significance within the legendarium should not overshadow its merit as an independent tale, as it was originally conceived to be. John D. Rateliff, in his commentary on the original manuscript of The Hobbit, discusses this misrepresentation that the book often faces –

The Hobbit, which in recent years has come to be seen more and more as a mere 'prelude' to The Lord of the Rings, a lesser first act that sets up the story and prepares the reader to encounter the masterpiece that follows. Such a view does not do justice to either book, and ignores the fact that the story of Bilbo's adventure was meant to be read as a stand-alone work, and indeed existed as an

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independent work for a full seventeen years before being joined by its even more impressive sequel. (xiii)

The recently released Peter Jackson film adaptations of The Hobbit have further incorporated elements of the legendarium into the story. This enriches the plot and greatly increases both its scale and enjoyment for modern audiences and is in keeping with Tolkien’s own intentions to achieve a singular all-encompassing narrative for Middle-earth. However it should not take away from the joy of reading The Hobbit independently as a classic of children’s literature with themes and ideas representative of Tolkien’s vision and imagination.

To analyze The Hobbit as nature writing one must first understand what constitutes a nature text. According to Patrick D. Murphy, it is –

Limited to having either nonhuman nature itself as a subject, character, or major component of the setting, or to a text that says something about human-nonhuman interaction, human philosophies about nature, or the possibility of engaging nature by means of or in spite of human culture. (4-5)

At the obvious level The Hobbit cannot be categorized as nature writing – it is primarily an adventure story about a rag tag band of unlikely heroes on an episodic quest, with nature neither being “a subject, character, or major component”. The focus instead lies on the hero’s journey. However in context of its place in the larger narrative of the legendarium, the story of The Hobbit becomes part of a framework that views itself as a historical documentation of events that are intrinsically linked with the land in which they take place. The entire narrative trilogy that constitutes The Silmarillion, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings is in many ways the story of Middle-earth itself through the First, Second and Third Ages. In fact Tolkien uses the literary conceit of having ‘discovered’ the text of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings from what is identified in the latter book as The Red Book of Westmarch. In The Hobbit a hint of this can be found in the last chapter when Bilbo is seen writing his memoirs. Therefore within the all-encompassing legendarium, nature and land become major components and subjects of concern. While the landscape of The Hobbit does not contain the level of mythological and historical

70 complexity found in The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings it engages with the characters on the level of plot as it is a component of their journey. Different forms of land acquire the characteristics of the forces of good or evil inhabiting it and there are instances of anthropomorphism and animism throughout the text. Thus the interaction and engagement with nature and the underlying philosophy that informs it, which are prerequisites of nature writing according to Murphy, are visible in The Hobbit. The German scientist, explorer and philosopher Alexander von Humboldt, who is popularly considered the father of ecology, writes –

In considering the study of physical phenomena, not merely in its bearings on the material wants of life, but in its general influence on the intellectual advancement of mankind, we find its noblest and most important result to be a knowledge of the chain of connection, by which all natural forces are linked together, and made mutually dependent upon each other; and it is the perception of these relations that exalts our views and ennobles our enjoyments. (23)

Tolkien’s environmental vision has a similar concept of “the chain of connection” found in nature that inextricably ties the natural world with human experience. The conservationist interpretation of his works stems from his emphasis on the belief that a life lived in harmony with nature is an essential element of human happiness and morality. The absence of such an association or destruction of the natural world signals chaos and his plots mirror this belief in their overarching theme of the tug of war between the forces of good and evil, at turns disturbing and restoring the balance of nature.

There is a scene in The Desolation of Smaug, the second installment of The Hobbit film trilogy, where Bilbo, the Dwarves and Gandalf find themselves in the house of Beorn. Beorn is a skin-changer who can transform into a bear and is a kind of character often found in the Tolkien legendarium; like Tom Bombadil and Treebeard seen later in The Lord of the Rings, a sort of embodiment of the natural world who derives his strength from a strong communal bond with nature. While the Beorn of the books is much more jovial and light-hearted, the tonal change of the narrative in its translation to the screen has interpreted the character as a rather more melancholic figure. When Bilbo asks him if there were others like him, he replies – “Once there were many.

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Now there is only one” (Jackson). While in the books a number of skin-changers are known to survive, Beorn’s backstory has been changed in the film depicting him as the last of his kind, hunted to near extinction by the forces of evil. The films are inevitably a postmodern interpretation as they cater to a contemporary audience which expects to see a reflection of its own values in the values of the characters. The current global environmental crisis that affects the ecosystems of the world leading to the endangering and extinction of many species of plants and animals can be seen to be illustrated in this treatment of Beorn’s character. Since the filmmakers treat the two stories of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings as more of a singular narrative than the books, much of Tolkien’s environmental vision that is more fully developed in The Lord of the Rings finds its way into The Hobbit’s film version. Therefore when Beorn intones that he is the only one of his kind left, it is in a way an ecocritical approach to the character and narrative. The question therefore is whether Tolkien himself had this view in mind while he was writing The Hobbit. The answer is a complex one. While it would be a misrepresentation to assume that Tolkien was representing a modern ecological perspective in a time when such concepts were not a part of critical theory, it is obvious that he was a champion of the natural world. Tolkien can be said to have employed an almost Wordsworthian Romanticism in his approach towards nature. His condemnation of the progress of the industrial world at the expense of nature is similar to how Wordsworth decries the loss of communion between human beings and nature – “Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers/Little we see in Nature that is ours” (Poems, in Two Volumes, 122). It is this “sordid boon” that troubles Tolkien as well – the boon of the industrial world that brings with it the sordidness of apathy towards nature, a loss of spirituality, which is in the Romantic view a bad bargain in spite of the comforts modern society promises. Therefore one can conclude that Tolkien’s works reflect a proto- environmentalism similar to the Romantic ethic.

While the Beorn of the films (who wears a shackle around his wrists as a reminder of his enslavement by the Orcs) and his tragic past do not have a direct parallel in his counterpart in the book, his eagerness to aid Bilbo and their companions in their quest to combat the forces of evil hint at the role that nature plays within the text – that of a saviour. There are many instances in which the protagonists are aided by various

72 creatures throughout their journey. In retrospect these are the kelvar created by the Valier Yavanna, as mentioned in the previous chapter. Therefore the aid provided by these embodiments of nature can be interpreted as divine intervention, in which nature itself is the chief source of divinity. The land is threatened as much as is the quest of the Dwarves to reclaim their homeland. In fact this quest is as much a universal quest as it is a personal one. The evil of Smaug affects not just the Dwarves’ interests but also the land he has devastated, converting the once magnificent Dwarvish kingdom of Erebor into the Lonely Mountain. The Necromancer’s presence in the forest once known as Greenwood has transformed it into the dark and dangerous Mirkwood. The effects of evil are not only upon the people attacked by it but also upon the land they inhabit. Therefore nature itself must combat the forces seeking to destroy it. This theme finds further development in The Lord of the Rings; however it is also present in some measure in The Hobbit, especially when it is read in context of the narrative’s place within the Middle-earth legendarium.

In his seminal work Walden, the American transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau famously declared –

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. (90)

The “essential facts of life” as they are, refer to a simple life lived in harmony with nature, as Thoreau experienced during his two year residence near Walden Pond. This kind of living is very similar to that of the hobbits in the Shire. In The Hobbit Bilbo enjoys an idyllic existence in the comforts of his hobbit-hole. While the interruption of this comfort is an important theme in his development as a character; the significance of home with its unmarred natural beauty and pastoral innocence, reminiscent of Tolkien’s rural England still safe from industrialization, is considerable. In the last chapter when Bilbo returns triumphant but weary from his journey and first sees his home on the horizon he spontaneously burst into song – ‘The Road Goes Ever On’ (a recurring walking song in Tolkien’s works). The second verse of the song holds the crux of Tolkien’s view of nature and home as sources of both wonder and comfort –

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Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known.

(Tolkien, Hobbit 347)

There is therefore, in Tolkien’s mind, no greater cure for the horrors of the world than green meadows, trees, hills and the familiarity of home.

There is something remarkably comforting and familiar in viewing the tales of Middle-earth through the eyes of a hobbit. In both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, the protagonists are hobbits of the Shire – Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, members of a diminutive fictional race created by Tolkien. Unlike other mythical races in Tolkien’s works, hobbits are for the most part original creations of the author’s mind. In a letter to W.H. Auden, Tolkien indicated that Edward Wyke Smith's The Marvellous Land of Snergs, whose titular characters are the hobbit-like Snergs, was “probably an unconscious source-book! for the Hobbits” (Letters 215). Children’s stories are often populated by little people – gnomes living in toadstools, fairies flitting around flowers, elves climbing into shoes. Children being little people themselves are able to identify with others of diminutive size, though these fantasy creatures are technically adults in nature. Tolkien however had no love for the traditional fairies of fairy tales. In On Fairy-Stories he dismissed “flower-fairies and fluttering sprites with antennae that I so disliked as a child, and which my children in their turn detested” (Tolkien, Tales 319) as not representative of the world of faerie. He in fact asserted that, “Most good ‘fairy-stories’ are about the adventures of men in the Perilous Realm” (Tolkien, Tales 322). Therefore the hobbits of his tales are not be confused as the literary descendants of the little people in fairy tales, no matter how much they may resemble fat garden gnomes going about their business in a toadstool village. It is possible that Tolkien was subconsciously influenced by the tropes of fairy tales, but consciously his hobbits are an extension of the race of Men, albeit of a fundamentally different nature. The hobbits are unlikely heroes thrust into a

74 world far removed from their comfortable existence. There is something almost jarring about their presence amidst the other races of Middle-earth – High Elves and Men of noble lineage, fierce warrior Dwarves and all manner of fantastical creatures. In contrast the hobbits seem unremarkable at first glance – simple, pastoral folk with lives greatly similar to the rural life of pre-industrial England. Since Tolkien’s intention in creating his legendarium was to provide a fictional mythology for England, it is therefore not surprising that his protagonists are also quintessentially English. Michael Stanton writes –

Readers may argue amicably about degree, but certainly Englishness as one quality of hobbits is evident. A settled way of life, an almost unbreachable politeness, modesty combined with courage, powerful use of understatement, all are thought of by the world at large as things traditionally English. They are likewise hobbitish. (282)

Tolkien’s fictional England of the Shire is however not the England of the author’s times, rather it is steeped in nostalgia of a land lost after the effects of the Industrial Revolution.

The creation of the Shire is therefore an attempt to recapture the unmarred beauty of the English countryside and a life lived in harmony with the natural world. Tolkien affirmed this idea. In a letter to his publishers, he wrote –

[The Shire] is in fact more or less a Warwickshire village of about the period of the Diamond Jubilee – that is as far away as the Third Age from that depressing and perfectly characterless straggle of houses north of old Oxford, which has not even a postal existence. (Letters 230)

This parallel between the Shire and England is both cultural and geographical. That Tolkien chose to name the region inhabited by hobbits as the ‘Shire’ indicates how he intended to identify it with the geography of England where the names of counties often end with this suffix. The inhabitants of the Shire embody the qualities that Tolkien deems essential to the character of Englishness. The hobbits’ close association with nature makes them important role models of the environmental ideal that Tolkien believed should be the way of life in the English countryside. Of this association Dickerson and Evans write –

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Hobbits as a race are portrayed as being more in touch with nature than are Men in Middle-earth or human beings in our world. Nature is of fundamental value in and of itself, in contrast to the merely instrumental value of complex technology. Hobbits disdain the sort of industrial and technological “progress” characteristic of our modern world. And although the Hobbits love comfort, they are not willing to use artificial interventions to secure comfort if doing so will endanger the environment in the long term. Apart from the immediate pleasures afforded by work itself, their entertainments are the simple ones of food and drink, song and dance, long walks and hot baths, gossip and storytelling. Their agriculture—and thus their culture—is sustainable, presumably indefinitely. (83-84)

This sustainability is exactly the kind of proto-conservationism that can be seen in Tolkien’s views on the natural world, and which he associates with the English pastoral way of life. Tolkien was horrified with the transformation of England into an industrialized landscape. He explores this later in greater detail in The Lord of the Rings when Isengard, a formerly green place, gets perverted and transformed into an engine of mechanized evil. The life of the hobbits in the Shire then becomes an ideal standard of living that, unlike the spiritual otherworldliness of the Elves’ love of nature, provides a practical alternative for a responsible and harmonious lifestyle. Fundamental to this philosophy is the idea that –

Hobbits in general, and particularly those who are central to The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, show us that the common stuff of life—including, perhaps especially, the material things of this world—should be valued and appreciated for what they are in and of themselves. (Dickerson & Evans 11)

It is also important in context of an action-based environmental ethic that encourages people to adopt a lifestyle that does not inflict damage upon the land that they depend upon for their livelihood and survival.

The history and genealogy of hobbits is described in much greater detail in the prologue to The Lord of the Rings ‘Concerning Hobbits’. In The Hobbit what we learn about their life and nature is through the character of Bilbo Baggins. The son of Bungo

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Baggins and Belladonna Took, Bilbo belongs to two of the most important and wealthy hobbit families of the Shire. Both respected and respectable, Bilbo enjoys an elevated position in his society and is distinctively hobbitish in nature. While the Baggins side of his family is steadfastly conservative and proper there is an unconventional strain of adventure in the Took blood which Bilbo, contrary to first impressions, seems to have inherited.

Although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his makeup from the Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out. (Tolkien, Hobbit 5)

In many ways the character of Bilbo is a reflection of his creator. He mirrors Tolkien in his country gentleman ways, in his love of the simple life, and contrary to appearances, in a deep of sense of adventure and fantasy; which expresses itself in Tolkien’s case in the creation of his fantasy world, and in Bilbo; in his embracing of adventure. Tolkien himself draws this parallel –

I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size). I like gardens, trees and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humour (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much. (Letters 288-289)

The image of hobbits is of a people who confirm to Tolkien’s English ideal – a closeness with the natural world coupled with an appreciation of the simple joys of life. The choice of hobbits as primary protagonists is a clever way to bridge the gap of the reader’s reality with the fictional reality of the legendarium. According to Michael Stanton –

The world of Middle-earth bears the coloration of medieval epic and romance, but Bilbo is unquenchably English and middle-class; he lives in the Shire, a world of high tea, umbrellas, and postal service. His anachronistic way of living is a means of entry, a mediating device, for readers. Beginning in the familiar and the

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unthreatening, we can more easily move into the strange, the glamorous, and the dangerous. (65)

The hobbits are said to be distantly related to Men or Big People as they call them, but they are perhaps closer in nature to the Elves. On the surface these two races could not be more different; however both display a closeness with nature that shields them from the ravages of evil. While the Elves exhibit a high spirituality, the hobbits embody a simple earthly wisdom that sets them apart from the materially inclined races of Dwarves and Men. The greed of Dwarves and the ambition of Men is the focus of Tolkien’s cautionary narratives in both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It is the hobbits’ simplicity that ultimately helps them to save the day. That is not to say that hobbits do not display a certain pastoral materialism. They are almost religiously dedicated to maintaining their creature comforts. The Elves (with the exception of the much reviled events of the War of the Jewels described in The Silmarillion) do not concern themselves much with the material world and in fact literally exist on parallel physical and spiritual planes, the hobbits on the other hand immerse themselves in the comforts of a pastoral lifestyle. Thus, it is the kind of materialism that Tolkien views with an indulgent eye. It is rooted in the strong conception of home that is central to the identity of hobbits. Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings end with a return to the Shire, which is in fact a return to the self, though changed and yet finding comfort in its association with its original identity.

Bilbo is the hero of The Hobbit and like all good protagonists his character evolves through the course of the story. At the beginning he is very much a reluctant member of the Company of Dwarves. In the first chapter ‘An Unexpected Party’, the (as the title suggests) unexpected arrival of thirteen Dwarves in his home and their commandeering of his pantries and dining room leave him flustered and scurrying about, his genteel existence upended by their boisterous good cheer. This is further illustrated when he is upset at forgetting to bring his handkerchief along for the journey and is told that he “will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey’s end” (Tolkien, Hobbit 36-37). In many ways this line foreshadows Bilbo’s development as a character. Never having stepped out of his comfort zone before, Bilbo grows into his role as the hero of the tale, realizes his own

78 potential and becomes an invaluable part of the Company. Bilbo stands at a contrast with the Dwarves. What they have in bravery and stubborn determination, they lack in subtlety. Bilbo’s quick thinking and wit get them out of numerous scrapes such as when he engages the Trolls in banter to prevent them from eating him, his besting of Gollum at his own game of riddles and his flattery of Smaug (displaying his great rhetorical skill) that lulls him into a false sense of security. Since the plot of The Hobbit is episodic, each chapter usually pits the characters against an obstacle that they must overcome to move forward and it is the cunning of Bilbo that keeps the Company together and saves their quest. Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of the Dwarves, underestimates Bilbo many times during their journey, blinded by his own pride and greed. However ultimately with his dying breath he acknowledges Bilbo’s contributions as well as the role his background as a hobbit plays in this –

There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. (Tolkien, Hobbit 333)

The emphasis therefore lies on the very nature embodied by hobbits. It is true that Bilbo is an unusual hobbit; however he grows into the hero because of his heritage rather than in spite of it, as the strength he displays in combating various challenges is derived from this inner sense of peace and stability he possesses. In 1965, Tolkien wrote to the first reviewer of The Hobbit, Rayner Unwin –

Bilbo was specially selected by the authority and insight of Gandalf as abnormal: he had a good share of hobbit virtues: shrewd sense, generosity, patience, and fortitude, and also a strong ‘spark’ yet unkindled. The story and its sequel are not about ‘types’ or the cure of bourgeois smugness by wider experience, but about the achievements of specially graced and gifted individuals. (Letters 365)

The grace and gifts of Bilbo are thus shown as inherently present in his character and the journey that he undertakes acts as a catalyst to ignite this ‘spark’. Bilbo is at the conclusion of his story a much changed hobbit. At the very end of the journey Gandalf

79 exclaims to him – “Something is the matter with you! You are not the hobbit that you were” (Tolkien, Hobbit 347). Bilbo is indeed not the hobbit he was when he first started out of his hobbit-hole a year ago; he has changed or rather evolved into a better version of himself. Yet he is in many ways unchanged, as throughout his perils and triumphs he manages at his very core to retain his simple virtues, and ultimately returns to his quiet life. In the later story of The Lord of the Rings Bilbo’s actions in The Hobbit prove to be vastly important – his finding of the ring in the Misty Mountains sets the stage for the War of the Ring and changes the entire fate of Middle-earth. This exemplifies Tolkien’s belief that the greatest and most epic of events can spring from humble beginnings, and it is this sentiment that defines the character and role of hobbits within the legendarium.

The image of the Dwarf has entered into the fantastical imagination by way of Germanic mythology which provides the chief inspiration for Tolkien’s conception of Dwarves. The word ‘dwarf’ is derived from the Old Norse ‘dvergr’. While the plural of ‘dwarf’ is commonly agreed to be ‘dwarfs’, but Tolkien uses ‘dwarves’ exclusively. This alternative spelling according to him was originally “a piece of private bad grammar” (Tolkien, Letters 23), but became his preferred usage perhaps because it also corresponds to elves, the plural of elf. The chief sources of Scandinavian myths, the 13th century texts Prose Edda and Poetic Edda, give different origin myths for dwarfs. In the Prose Edda they start off as the maggots that live on the carcass of the giant Ymir. The first and most famous poem in the Poetic Edda is the ‘Völuspá’ which describes dwarfs as having come from the blood of Brimir and the bones of Bláinn, both identified as different names for Ymir. A section of the poem known as the Dvergatal or the Catalogue of Dwarfs contains most of the dwarvish names used by Tolkien in his legendarium, including those of Thorin and his Company and interestingly enough also Gandalf, who is a dwarf in the epic. The Encyclopaedia Britannica entry on dwarfs describes their mythological origins as –

A species of fairy inhabiting the interiors of mountains and the lower levels of mines. Dwarfs were of various types, all of small stature, some being no more than 18 inches (45 cm) high and others about the height of a two-year-old child.

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In appearance they were sometimes beautiful, but more usually they resembled grave old men with long beards and, in some cases, humped backs.

The mountain dwarfs were organized in kingdoms or tribes, with their own kings, chieftains, and armies. They lived in subterranean halls, believed to be full of gold and precious stones. They were principally famous for their skill in all kinds of metalwork and the forging of magical swords and rings. (‘Dwarf’)

Tolkien’s Dwarves display many of these characteristics, they are miners and metalworkers and many weapons created by them have important roles in the legendarium. In The Hobbit the swords Orcrist, Glamdring and Sting which are retrieved from a troll hoard are dwarf-made and become the weapons of Thorin, Gandalf and Bilbo respectively. Sting, which works as a goblin-detector glowing blue in their vicinity, is later passed on to Frodo and also makes an important appearance in The Lord of the Rings. The structure of Dwarvish society is composed of seven houses or clans descended from the original seven Fathers of the Dwarves, which are the Longbeards, Firebeards, Broadbeams, Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks and Stonefoots. The Dwarvish clans throughout the history of Middle-earth establish various kingdoms inside mountains which serve both as their dwelling places and their mines and forges. The reclamation of the kingdom of Erebor, later known as the Lonely Mountain, which was founded by the line of Durin of the Longbeards or Durin’s folk, constitutes the main plot of The Hobbit. Folklore and fairytales such as those compiled by the Brothers Grimm and the writings of Tolkien’s favourite childhood authors like Andrew Lang and William Morris also contributed as his influences in his creation of Dwarves. The Völsunga saga which was adapted by Morris in his The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs, and later also adapted by Lang in his Red Fairy Book, has various similarities with the plot of The Hobbit. Both stories have a cursed treasure guarded by a dragon that has to be defeated by the hero. Tolkien, like many great writers, borrows a number of aspects from his sources but transforms this source material into accessible stories that appeal as much to modern audiences as they did to his contemporaries. The Dwarves of Tolkien’s legendarium have become in popular culture the most identifiable image associated with

81 dwarves. Ármann Jakobsson in his article ‘The Hole: Problems in Medieval Dwarfology’ writes –

Almost everyone comes to the old texts with some preconceived idea of dwarfs, if not from The Lord of the Rings, then from romances, folktales and modern novels, all presenting their own consistent image of dwarfs. (53)

This “consistent image” of Dwarves created by Tolkien has pervaded popular culture today. Fantasy role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons and video games like World of Warcraft all have dwarves that are distinctly Tolkienish both in appearance and behavior. Tolkien’s talent lies in taking the archetypes and stereotypes of myths and fairytales and transforming them into relatable and distinct characters, so much so that if one were asked to describe a dwarf, chances are that one would be describing the Tolkien Dwarf.

Tolkien’s Dwarves are a study in contradictions, not only in the morally complex nature of their characterization but also in their evolution from greedy evildoers in The Silmarillion to a flawed but brave people in The Hobbit. In Tolkien’s early writings such as The Book of Lost Tales, Sketch of the Mythology and The Silmarillion Dwarves are portrayed as untrustworthy, greedy and allies of evil. Their creation itself is something of a mistake. The Vala Aulë, whom the Dwarves call Mahal, created the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves without the will of Ilúvatar and before the Firstborn of the Children of Ilúvatar awakened.

It is told that in their beginning the Dwarves were made by Aulë in the darkness of Middle-earth; for so greatly did Aulë desire the coming of the Children, to have learners to whom he could teach his lore and his crafts, that he was unwilling to await the fulfillment of the designs of Ilúvatar. And Aulë made the Dwarves even as they still are, because the forms of the Children who were to come were unclear to his mind, and because the power of Melkor was yet over the Earth; and he wished therefore that they should be strong and unyielding. But fearing that the other Valar might blame his work, he wrought in secret: and he made first the

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Seven Fathers of the Dwarves in a hall under the mountains in Middle-earth. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 37)

But unlike Melkor who stood in defiance to Ilúvatar and whose purposes were wholly turned to evil, Aulë after being chastised for this act of independent creation was immediately repentant. So while the products of Melkor’s creation such as the Orcs are completely immersed in evil without chance of redemption, the Dwarves are balanced on a precipice between good and evil. Since they are not a result of Ilúvatar’s Vision, they do not enjoy the same elevated status as Elves and Men and are shown to be more prone to evil. Early representations of Dwarves in the legendarium are few and far between and much more obviously evil than their later representation in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. In ‘The Nauglafring’ from The Book of Lost Tales, the Dwarves are servants of evil and are categorized with the traditional monsters of Tolkien’s world – orcs, giants and other foul creatures. The story of ‘The Nauglafring’ is an early instance of the conflict between Dwarves and Elves, a theme that would continue in The Hobbit with the Company’s encounter with the Elves of Mirkwood and would find resolution with the iconic friendship of Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Glóin in The Lord of the Rings. The death of Thingol in The Silmarillion occurs at the hands of Dwarves, over a dispute about the possession of the Nauglamír or Necklace of the Dwarves which had been given to Dwarven craftsmen to encrust a Silmaril in it. This story seems to have been borrowed by Peter Jackson for his The Hobbit film trilogy by creating the plot of the Gems of Lasgalyn which Thranduil and Thorin similarly lay opposing claims to. The pitting of Elves and Dwarves against each other and their animosity throughout the Ages of Middle-earth was foreseen by Ilúvatar –

They shall sleep now in the darkness under stone, and shall not come forth until the Firstborn have awakened upon Earth; and until that time thou and they shall wait, though long it seem. But when the time comes I will awaken them, and they shall be to thee as children; and often strife shall arise between thine and mine, the children of my adoption and the children of my choice. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 38)

From the outset Dwarves and Elves are if not enemies exactly but foils to each other. Where Elves are unearthly and spiritual, Dwarves are almost decidedly earthly in the

83 literal sense of the word. Having been created under a mountain and subsequently slept there until their awakening, they have an affinity with the earth and darkness. They tend to dwell underground inside mountains and are miners and metal workers. They do not engage with nature in the spiritual way Elves do with forests or even the pastoral way that hobbits do with their fields and hills. Their nature as underground dwellers and miners is also established through their origin myth. When the Dwarves are finally awoken by Ilúvatar after the Awakening of the Elves, the Valier Yavanna, who is also Aulë’s wife, rebukes him for creating them without her knowledge –

Because thou hiddest this thought from me until its achievement, thy children will have little love for the things of my love. They will love first the things made by their own hands, as doth their father. They will delve in the earth, and the things that grow and live upon the earth they will not heed. Many a tree shall feel the bite of their iron without pity. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 45)

This explains the Dwarves’ problematic relationship with nature and the distinctively inferior position they have than the more fortunate and naturally-attuned Elves. In Tolkien’s view the natural world he so loved was at its purest aboveground in the light of the stars and the sun. Light, as has been discussed in the previous chapter, is a symbol of purity in Tolkien’s legendarium. His affinity for trees and growing things is also no secret. A race that deliberately eschews this light and has no special relationship with the green world immediately comes across as a lesser race and therefore more easily prone to corruption.

Another interesting parallel observed by many Tolkien scholars is between Dwarvish and Jewish culture. Tolkien is said to have been inspired by Semitic sources in his creation of Dwarvish characteristics and mythology. Various aspects of Dwarvish culture have counterparts in real world Jewish traditions. , the language Tolkien developed for Dwarves is based on the Hebrew language with similar phonology and morphology. Khuzdul is for the Dwarves a secret language meant only to be spoken amongst themselves and guarded from outsiders. They also have ‘true names’ distinct from public names that they use while interacting with other cultures. These practices are similar to those of many medieval Jewish groups. The Dwarves’ quest for their homeland

84 and their longing to return to it can also be seen as a parallel to Jewish culture. Tolkien himself acknowledged the similarity between Jews and Dwarves on various occasions. He wrote – “I do think of the 'Dwarves' like Jews: at once native and alien in their habitations, speaking the languages of the country, but with an accent due to their own private tongue” (Letters 229). In a 1971 interview (one of his last) with the BBC, Tolkien further confirmed this source of inspiration –

The dwarves of course are quite obviously, couldn't you say that in many ways they remind you of the Jews? Their words are Semitic obviously, constructed to be Semitic. (Gerrolt)

There have been various charges levied against Tolkien of racism and anti-Semitism in his works. Some critics allege that the predisposition of Dwarves towards gold and treasure enforces the anti-Semitic stereotype of the Jewish usurer. Such an interpretation however is at odds with Tolkien’s attitude towards the anti-Semitism that followed the rise of the Nazi party in Germany. In a letter to a German publisher who wanted confirmation of his Aryan heritage before publishing The Hobbit, Tolkien wrote –

I regret that I am not clear as to what you intend by arisch. I am not of Aryan extraction: that is Indo-iranian; as far as I am aware none of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or any related . But if I am to understand that you are enquiring whether I am of Jewish origin, I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people. (Letters 37)

Tolkien’s personal views however do not discredit a discussion of what can be viewed as the inherent anti-Semitism in his portrayal of Dwarves. Rebecca Brackmann in her article ‘‘Dwarves are Not Heroes’: Antisemitism and the Dwarves in J.R.R. Tolkien's Writing’ defines anti-Semitism –

I do not limit the meaning of antisemitism to overt violence or discrimination against practitioners of Judaism or Jewish converts to Christianity. Rather, by antisemitism I chiefly mean the underlying assumption that makes such violence and discrimination possible—the claim that there is something about Jews, biologically and psychologically, that marks them as fundamentally different from

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the Christian cultures that have been dominant in Europe since the Middle Ages. (85)

By this definition it becomes important to examine how the ‘Jewishnes’ of Dwarves sets them apart from other races and how this difference reflects negatively upon them in comparison to others. The very creation of Dwarves as lesser beings compared to Elves, even though they were created before them, lends to the idea that Elves are superior to Dwarves in the eyes of Ilúvatar. This is similar to how Christian narratives forward the view that Christian Gentiles and their culture supersede that of the Jews in the eyes of the Biblical god and society. While the Dwarves love of gold is a trait that is present in the Germanic conception of Dwarves, the association of Tolkien’s Dwarves specifically with Jews emphasizes the anti-Semitic stereotype of Jews as greedy misers. There are various instances in The Hobbit which point towards this negative aspect of Dwarvish character. When the Company first saw the treasure trove of Smaug in Erebor their excitement is described – “when the heart of a dwarf, even the most respectable, is wakened by gold and by jewels, he grows suddenly bold, and he may become fierce” (Tolkien, Hobbit 277). Therefore Tolkien is clearly of the view that the Dwarves’ desire for gold lies outside the realm of respectability. The Dwarves of The Hobbit, unlike characters such as Bard and Bilbo, do not display heroism in the traditional sense –

There is it: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much. (Tolkien, Hobbit 247)

Of this statement, Brackmann writes –

The narrator here makes the Dwarves' primary cultural trait the “idea of the value of money” and acknowledges that even the best of them are only “decent [...] if you don't expect too much.” This damning statement explicitly casts the Dwarves out from the heroic value system of the book as a whole, based on the attribute that most clearly echoes real-world antisemitic stereotypes. (93)

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Tolkien was perhaps conscious of the problematic nature of Dwarves in The Hobbit and the character of Gimli in The Lord of the Rings does away with the negative stereotypes associated with them, a further step forward in their redemption from their portrayal in his early mythopoeic writings. Gimli is as much a hero in this tale as are the Men and Elves. There is no mention of Dwarvish greed and their love for gold and precious gems is viewed as more aesthetic than materialistic. There are indeed multiple readings possible of the Dwarves’ association with Jews in The Hobbit, both negative and positive. Tolkien’s adherence to stereotypes may be viewed as a form of anti-Semitism that encourages discrimination, if not explicitly then inherently. While the very concept of ‘Jewishness’ is problematic, on the other hand his detailed description of the Dwarves’ culture and his own personal views regarding racism can interpret the portrayal of Dwarves as a celebration rather than denigration of Jewish society. Owen Dudley Edwards, describing the similarity of Tolkien’s Dwarves to Jews, seems to be of this view –

He … gave them Jewish sense of adventure, Jewish love of music, Jewish delight in parties, Jewish sanctity of traditional quest, Jewish financial acumen, Jewish nomadic traditions, Jewish warmth in comradeship, Jewish suspicion of betrayal by gentiles. Bilbo’s redemption from his dull, smug, complacent life by the dwarves is an eloquent metaphor for the impoverishment of western society without Jews. (458)

‘Home is where the heart is’ is a much used proverb that has found its way into the universal philosophy of human emotion. It evokes a sense of belonging for that elusive place called ‘home’, the discovery of which is possible only when one realizes where ones heart truly belongs. Home may exist in the physical world, a place one lives in or remembers, or an imaginary construct of the future that is fed by the longing to reach it. It is steeped both in nostalgia and ambition. In this sense home is both a physical and temporal ideal. It can be left behind or returned to. It can shift from one geographical position to another, and conversely can remain the same in spite of the geographical shift of the person to whom it belongs. Most stories that have a quest narrative portray home as the ultimate destination, whether one journeys towards it or returns to it when the quest

87 is completed. The Hobbit is no exception and includes both kinds of journeys. Bilbo goes adventuring away from his home but eventually returns to it at the end, having fulfilled his purpose. The Dwarves having lost their home journey towards it and ultimately reclaim it. The concept of home is therefore a primary motif in the plot of The Hobbit. It is both sacrificed and reclaimed and its achievement becomes a source of inspiration for the characters. The idea of home also becomes closely associated with the physical landscape, and the characteristics of the land are tied inextricably to the characteristics of the people that inhabit it. The nature of the land as it becomes home to a people influences the traditions and culture of that people and vice versa. Their history is therefore linked to the history of the land itself. Simon Schama in his book Landscape and Memory writes –

It is clear that inherited landscape myths and memories share two common characteristics: their surprising endurance through the centuries and their power to shape institutions that we still live with. National identity, to take just the most obvious example, would lose much of its ferocious enchantment without the mystique of a particular landscape tradition: its topography mapped, elaborated, and enriched as a homeland…And landscapes can be self-consciously designed to express the virtues of a particular political or social community. (15)

The attack on Erebor by Smaug and his capture of it from the Dwarves (who view this as a significant event in their history, which for centuries feeds their desire to retake it) can be considered part of the “inherited landscape myths and memories” that Schama describes. And the landscapes that both the Dwarves and hobbits inhabit highlight their particular virtues – the Dwarves’ talents at mining and metalwork and the hobbits’ pastoral idealism. Home thus becomes an important element in an ecocritical study of the plot of The Hobbit as it forms the crux of the relationship between the land and its inhabitants.

In the very first line of The Hobbit, the home of Bilbo Baggins is described as “a hole in the ground”. The narrator goes on to clarify that this was “not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort”

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(Tolkien, Hobbit 3). Indeed comfort is the watchword of hobbits. They lead a comfortable existence in the Shire, a pastoral, agrarian way of life that neither infringes upon anyone else’s comfort nor tries to overreach the limits of its own comfort. The Shire is a natural, sustainable utopia that flourishes on account of its inherent virtues of self- satisfaction and communion with the natural world. The hobbits are content living in their limited social and geographical sphere which provides them with everything they desire – physical comfort and the joys of community. When the Company starts off on its journey, the “hobbit-lands” are described as “a wild respectable country inhabited by decent folk, with good roads, an inn or two, and now and then a Dwarf or a farmer ambling by on business” (Tolkien, Hobbit 37). As discussed earlier, hobbits are for Tolkien an extension of his own self, representing the ideal country life of pre-industrial England. The Shire is a nostalgic representation of the homeland of Tolkien, since lost to the advent of industrialization. In the hobbits’ choice of lifestyle is an element of conservation that becomes a particular concern when reading the text from an ecocritical viewpoint. Dickerson and Evans write –

If the Shire has roots in the real world of Tolkien’s childhood, it also has roots in his fertile imagination. The “internal” history of the Hobbits’ land is probably even more important than its “external” history, for in creating the Shire, Tolkien explored how a cultivated, civilized agrarian society might originate and how it might be managed in such a way as to exist for an extremely long time without jeopardizing the health and productivity of its most important resource: the soil. (80)

The hobbits practice an agrarian culture that is non-exploitative and does not leech off the land, rather enriches it in a continuous cycle of fertility that has allowed the hobbit civilization a continued existence since ancient times. Many of the current practices in global agriculture are in dire need of revision in their land and water usage that would allow for sustainability rather than rapid, mass-production that ravages the soil. Furthermore the hobbit’s homes, rather than encroaching upon the land and destroying its natural beauty, are an organic part of it. The hobbit-holes or smials they live in are literally built into the hillsides and complement the landscape instead of changing it. Bag-

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End the ancestral home of the Bagginses occupies a position of importance in Hobbiton, a village located at the centre of the Shire. It is an extremely luxurious hobbit-hole with many beautiful rooms with round doors and all manner of creature comforts – “The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.” (Tolkien, Hobbit 3) Of this Dickerson and Evans write –

There is a subtle suggestion here about the value Hobbits place on nature: their “best rooms” are not the ones with the most conveniences…they are the ones with the clearest views of the landscape. Their best rooms look out not only on gardens—that is, nature in cultivated form—but also on meadows and the river, natural features that, though by no means truly wild, are less domesticated or cultivated. (12)

The hobbits therefore, extremely fond of their comfortable existence, do not preclude nature from it. They derive a simple pleasure from the natural world that lends an earthly spirituality to their material lives.

Living in the lap of this ideal environment, it is therefore no wonder that Bilbo is reluctant to leave it initially when invited by Gandalf to join the Dwarves’ quest. Home was for Bilbo his immediate surroundings which satisfied all his material needs and allowed him to lead the bourgeois lifestyle he was used to. Hobbits who went off on adventures were not considered respectable or ‘hobbitlike’ and in the vein of many real- world traditional societies, the hobbits frowned upon change and rebellion from the established norms of behaviour. Leaving home meant betraying these sentiments in addition to giving up the easy and predictable routines of life. When the Company of Dwarves arrives at Bilbo’s home, this unexpected event upends his neat and orderly existence. The Dwarves’ boisterous manners are in contrast to Bilbo’s own genteel politeness and challenge his notions of propriety. Bilbo’s reluctance to join them stems from his attachment to home, but ultimately his decision to serve as a burglar in their quest is also inspired by the value he places upon the concept of home. Bilbo empathizes with the Dwarves’ loss of homeland, which allows him to find a common ground with them. While listening to them singing of their loss he experiences a sort of awakening –

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As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. (Tolkien, Hobbit 19)

Bilbo’s innate but yet unexplored sense of adventure is inspired and becomes one with a love of nature. Having already enjoyed the pastoral beauty of his own homeland he desires to explore a more varied landscape. While this love of home and love of adventure may seem at the obvious level contrary directions of thought, they are not entirely at odds with each other. Yi-Fu Tuan, one of the most important proponents of humanistic geography, writes –

A spirit that pines for extreme adventure cannot have much feeling for home, so one might think. Yet, the two sentiments are linked. From one point of view, home is the necessary secure base and point of departure for the adventurer; from another, venturing into the unknown tends to exaggerate the goodness of home. (98)

In the memory of the traveler or exile, home is an idealized place. Parting from home lends to memory the lens of nostalgia which refines it and covers even its flaws with a curtain of fond, even biased, reminiscence. Indeed the hardships of his journey make Bilbo’s desire to return home even stronger, which in turn feeds his determination to complete his quest successfully. He also realizes that while seemingly different from hobbits, the Dwarves’ shared love of home binds them together in a universal ideal. This point highlights the idea of the universality of land, which is inhabited by various creatures who are all bound together by it, dependent upon each other and the land for survival. The natural world becomes a shared or universal home. Its wellbeing becomes the responsibility of all its inhabitants. The current global environmental crisis, including but not limited to global warming and its effects, is in need of a similar response from humanity as a whole – the ability to realize the value of the Earth as a shared home for the human race and take steps to safeguard it from the activities that harm it. It is in many

91 ways a shared survival instinct that is born of a belief in universality. Gandalf, who acts as both the spiritual and physical guide of the Company, is the personification of this ideal. He selflessly takes the responsibility of restoring the balance of the natural world by ensuring that the Dwarves reclaim Erebor, thus defeating Smaug who has perverted this balance. Bilbo achieves this selfless dedication to the ideal of universality when he agrees to help the Dwarves. This paves the way for his further development throughout the journey in The Hobbit, a spiritual and intellectual journey that transforms him. Finally in The Lord of the Rings he is revealed as having changed from an ordinary bourgeois hobbit into a cosmopolitan hobbit who enjoys the company of other races and cultures. His sense of home expands beyond the confines of the Shire to encompass the entire world ripe for adventuring. At the end of his story his home is transferred outside the material realm as he journeys finally to Valinor, representing a Biblical parallel of death and rebirth. As heaven is designated as the final home of human beings, Valinor becomes the final home of Bilbo, who started off as an ordinary hobbit in The Hobbit, but through his experiences transcended into an extraordinary one.

The Dwarves’ concept of home in The Hobbit is different to that of Bilbo. Their sense of belonging stems from the loss of their homeland and is melancholy and nostalgic rather than joyful. The culture of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain is one of exile. In his essay ‘Reflections on Exile’, Edward Said describes exile as –

The unhealable rift forced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be surmounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes in an exile’s life, these are no more than efforts meant to overcome the crippling sorrow of estrangement. The achievements of exile are permanently undermined by the loss of something left behind for ever. (Said)

While The Hobbit is primarily lighthearted in tone and consists of one of these “heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes” that Said mentions, at the heart of it there is a feeling of loss and desperation that pervades the Dwarves’ quest. It can be seen as a poignant portrayal of a displaced people who, having been forcibly removed from their homeland, have become scattered and disoriented; united in their longing to return. In

92 context of the Dwarves’ parallel with Jews it works as an allegory of the displacement of the Jews from their homeland at various instances in history. In the current socio-political climate, parallels can be seen with the refugee crisis in many parts of the Middle-East which has caused millions to leave their homes due to political instability and an insecure environment. While Bilbo leaves his home of his own accord, the Dwarves are sundered from theirs by the attack of Smaug. For them the adventure is not a choice but a necessity in order to reclaim their old way of life. This old way of life that is tied to their home is also a source of generational pride. Unlike Bilbo for whom home signified mainly comfort and security; the Dwarves, and particularly Thorin who is the heir to the throne of Erebor, view their home as a birthright and a possession. Their sense of home is not entirely pure but is muddied with their greed for its treasures, a particular failing of Dwarves which will be discussed later in this chapter. The indication is that the Dwarves lost their home not only due to the villainy of Smaug but also their own greed which made their home vulnerable to outside attack. The kingdom of Erebor which existed before Smaug’s dominion is described in great detail by Thorin along with its prosperity and riches –

Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least skilful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices, and pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things just for the fun of it, not to speak of the most marvellous and magical toys, the like of which is not to be found in the world now-a-days. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy-market of Dale was the wonder of the North. (Tolkien, Hobbit 28)

The culture of Erebor was clearly that of mutual cooperation and dependence with other races. Their economy was based on a barter system that benefitted all parties and in turn brought social and political stability to the region. Their society was however an industrialized society, which immediately puts it at odds with Tolkien’s personal philosophy of life. Mining is essentially a non-sustainable activity which unlike

93 agriculture does not replenish its source. In The Lord of the Rings excessive mining in the mines of Moria unearths the demonic Balrog who destroys it. In Erebor, an unchecked hoarding of riches summons the dragon Smaug. Since the Dwarves have no special relationship with nature and do nothing to safeguard it, they do not enjoy the same protection it offers other races like Elves and hobbits. Subsequently, the loss of the Dwarves’ home is linked with their inherent nature. This seems rather unfair to them as they have been set up for failure; however it serves as a cautionary tale against the exploitation of the land by those who inhabit it. Since the Dwarves’ workplace is the same as their residence, their particular industrial profession also deprives them of their home. A sort of redemption is achieved when the treasures of their home are shared with others at the end of The Hobbit, and having learned from the past they are able to finally reclaim their home and restore it to its former glory.

Other characters in The Hobbit also display a relationship with home that affects their actions in the narrative. Bard the Bowman derives his sense of belonging from his ancestors who were the rulers of Dale, which leads him to take action against Smaug, ultimately killing him. He also emerges as the leader of the men of Lake-town championing their cause against Thorin’s stubborn greed. He later becomes the King of Dale and contributes to the development and rebirth of the region, forming mutual ties of cooperation and furthering the idea of community –

Bard had rebuilt the town in Dale and men had gathered to him from the Lake and from South and West, and all the valley had become tilled again and rich, and the desolation was now filled with birds and blossoms in spring and fruit and feasting in autumn. And Lake-town was refounded and was more prosperous than ever, and much wealth went up and down the Running River; and there was friendship in those parts between elves and dwarves and men. (Tolkien, Hobbit 349-351)

Bard’s idea of home is then in keeping with Tolkien’s own idea – a society which combines industry and commerce with a sense of community and closeness with nature. The Company encounters various other homes during their journey to the Lonely Mountain. The Goblins’ home inside the Misty Mountains reflects the nature of its inhabitants –

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It was deep, deep, dark, such as only goblins that have taken to living in the heart of the mountains can see through. The passages there were crossed and tangled in all directions … and it was most horribly stuffy. (Tolkien, Hobbit 71-72)

The absence of light in the Goblins’ dwelling is indicative of their dark natures. While they live underground similar to the Dwarves and practice the same profession, the products of their creation are devoid of all beauty and they possess none of the Dwarves’ redeeming qualities. Thus the Company’s experience in their home becomes one of the most disturbing of their quest. The Elvenking’s realm in Mirkwood is a sharp contrast to that of the Goblins. While both capture the Dwarves, due to the starkly different nature of Elves and Goblins, their captivity is also very different –

Inside the passages were lit with red torch-light, and the elf-guards sang as they marched along the twisting, crossing, and echoing paths. These were not like those of the goblin-cities: they were smaller, less deep underground, and filled with a cleaner air. In a great hall with pillars hewn out of the living stone sat the Elvenking on a chair of carven wood. On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again. In the spring he wore a crown of woodland flowers. In his hand he held a carven staff of oak. (Tolkien, Hobbit 199)

The Wood Elves in spite of living underground like the Dwarves and Goblins do not eschew nature and ride out into the forest regularly. The Elvenking’s consciousness of the seasonal changes in nature are reflected in his wardrobe. Though he is something of an antagonist at this particular time in the plot, the Elves’ inherent goodness is reflected in their home which becomes a much more comfortable prison for the Dwarves than the insides of the Misty Mountains. The home that is most closely associated with the natural world is that of Beorn, the shape-shifter. Like its owner, Beorn’s home has a strange but almost pastoral wildness about it. It resembles a fantastical farmhouse where the animals are intelligent and serve dinner. Its construction is combined with its natural surroundings and both are intrinsically part of the other –

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They passed through this dim hall, lit only by the fire and the hole above it, and came through another smaller door into a sort of veranda propped on wooden posts made of single tree-trunks. It faced south and was still warm and filled with the light of the westering sun which slanted into it, and fell golden on the garden full of flowers that came right up to the steps. (Tolkien, Hobbit 139-141)

Beorn’s house becomes a convenient place of rest for the Company. It is here that they find respite from Goblins and Wargs early in their journey. Beorn, like Tom Bombadil in The Lord of the Rings is an enigmatic character who enjoys a close, mysterious relationship with nature. His life is lived in harmony with and servitude to nature and therefore he receives its protection from the darkness of the outside world, making his home a safe haven. The environment of his home, though strange and otherworldly at times, exudes a familiarity for the Dwarves and Bilbo with its feasting and good cheer, both concepts that they themselves identify with home.

The central morality of Tolkien’s legendarium, in its struggle between good and evil, comes from an identification of good with selflessness and sacrifice and evil with the desire to possess and have power over others. Good manifests itself in individuals and races when they elevate themselves above the trappings of the material world by rejecting anything that inspires covetousness and greed. The Elves, for example, are in general good because they are satisfied with living their lives in harmony with nature and do not desire dominion over others or the land. Evil, on the other hand, manifests itself most prominently in the cardinal sin of greed. The entire history of Middle-earth consists of episodes about the greed of individuals and communities that have brought about their own ruin and that of others. Morgoth’s very act of rebellion against Ilúvatar, which introduced evil into the world, sprung from a desire to reserve a separate plane of power for his own self. The greatest tragedy in the history of the Elves happened during the War of the Jewels or Silmarils, when in their desire to possess them the Elves committed the ultimate sin of kinslaying. The entire War of the Ring in The Lord of the Rings revolves around the One Ring, the possession of which becomes the focal point of the struggle that plunges the whole world into a state of chaos. Possessiveness of material objects, and using those possessions to exert unnatural power is then the most grievous of sins in

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Tolkien’s world, a world which thrives on the philosophy of communal and interdependent living with nature. Greed, therefore, does not only disrupt the socio- political balance of the world but also proves to be detrimental to the land and environment. The consequences of greed are such that any action driven by it affects the natural world. Arnold Toynbee, in his book Mankind and Mother Earth, writes –

Mankind's material power has now increased to a degree at which it could make the biosphere uninhabitable and will, in fact, produce this suicidal result within a foreseeable period of time if the human population of the globe does not now take prompt and vigorous concerted action to check the pollution and the spoliation that are being inflicted on the biosphere by short-sighted human greed. (9)

The current capitalistic power structures that are based upon the acquisition of material wealth do not have a sustainable plan of action to check the environmental plunder brought about by large-scale industrialization and exploitation of resources. The loss of the natural world that Tolkien lamented has become even more profound in the 21st century. It has become doubly important in present times to examine the failings of human nature which contribute to this loss, greed being the chief of which Tolkien has explored in his legendarium.

The Hobbit’s narrative revolves around the Dwarves’ attempt to reclaim their homeland from Smaug. As discussed earlier in the chapter, this desire to return is motivated only partly by their yearning for home and is focused mainly upon the reclamation of their wealth. This perversion of motives has consequences upon the success of their quest. The Dwarves are portrayed as inherently greedy. Like Macbeth, greed is their hamartia or fatal flaw which throughout their history in Middle-earth proves to be their undoing. Bilbo sacrifices his own material comforts in order to help the Dwarves and therefore at the very beginning of the novel immediately acquires a status similar to that of Gandalf. His reason for joining the quest is due to his sense of adventure and empathy with the Dwarves’ plight and like Gandalf he becomes a vehicle for restoring good to a land devastated by evil. Purity of motive allows Bilbo to triumph over the same obstacles that the Dwarves fall prey to. His background as a hobbit of the Shire makes him impervious to the evils he encounters. The Dwarves on the other hand, no

97 matter how noble their quest is, are plagued by the legacy of a culture that is based upon the acquisition of wealth. Dwarves value above all their material wealth which is a source of both pride and power. When the kingdom of Erebor thrived before the coming of Smaug, the Dwarves had filled its halls with vast amounts of gold and other precious metals and stones. While the economy was stable and the wealth was in circulation, the treasure of Erebor was by any standards a vast hoard. There is a scene in Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit trilogy where Thorin’s grandfather, Thror, stands amidst all his wealth mesmerized and consumed by it. It is reminiscent of Uncle Scrooge from Disney’s Duck Tales who liked to swim in his vault full of gold coins. While Scrooge, who is based on Dickens’ Ebenezer Scrooge, is a comic figure unlike Thror’s tragic one; he exudes the same sentiment of being dangerously obsessed with his wealth. This is an obsession that leads to other vices like hoarding and a jealous possessiveness for the wealth that does not allow for the sharing of it. It is what Tolkien describes as “dragon-sickness”. When Bilbo first sees the treasure of Erebor, he too is overwhelmed by it –

Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendour, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count. (Tolkien, Hobbit 250)

However Bilbo’s brush with dragon-sickness is short lived and he soon sobers up after his confrontation with Smaug. While the Dwarves are excited and eager for the recovery of their wealth, realizing the danger that Smaug presents “the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo” (Tolkien, Hobbit 268). When Thorin and the Dwarves finally witness the great treasure hoard they are enthralled by its magnificence, even forgoing caution in that perilous situation –

Each now gripped a lighted torch; and as they gazed, first on one side and then on another, they forgot fear and even caution. They spoke aloud, and cried out to one another, as they lifted old treasures from the mound or from the wall and held them in the light, caressing and fingering them. (Tolkien, Hobbit 277)

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The “desire of dwarves” is presented as an enchantment because it manifests as a mental illness that clouds the judgment of those suffering from it, and to which Dwarves are particularly susceptible. The focus of Thorin’s desire is a special gemstone, the Arkenstone. Called the Heart of the Mountain it is an heirloom of Thorin’s family and he values it above all the other treasures in Erebor. Much like the One Ring in The Lord of the Rings, the Arkenstone, to a lesser extent becomes the focus of many of the characters’ interests in The Hobbit. Thorin’s desire for it allows it to become a bargaining chip in the hands of Gandalf, Bard and the Elvenking who oppose Thorin’s stubborn refusal to part with any of his treasure for the good of others.

The idea of dragon-sickness may have come to Tolkien from medieval sources which have stories of greedy men becoming dragons and guarding a vast treasure hoard. Fafnir from the Völsunga saga transforms into a dragon after he kills his father for his gold, which had been cursed by Odin. Dragons are commonly associated with greed and avarice in mythology and the trope of dragons guarding treasures is very popular in medieval literature. However unlike the dragons of myth who were mostly beast-like, Tolkien created Smaug as an intelligent adversary. He guards his treasure jealously and his discovery of Bilbo’s theft of a cup incites in him human-like emotions –

Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description, the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. (Tolkien, Hobbit 252)

By giving him human speech and emotion, Smaug’s greed can be seen as an extension of the Dwarves’ own attitude towards the treasure. Tom Shippey writes –

Nothing could be more archaic or fantastic than a dragon brooding on its gold, and yet the strong sense of familiarity in this one's speech puts it back into the ‘continuum of greed’, makes it just dimly possible that dragon-motivations could on their different scale have some affinity with human ones - even real historical human ones. (84)

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The “continuum of greed” therefore begins with the Dwarves own actions which invite Smaug, but does not end with his death. Smaug’s death at the hands of Bard puts Thorin in possession of his forefather’s wealth and it is then that the dragon-sickness completely overwhelms him. He becomes as possessive of the treasure as Smaug and is ready to go to war rather than give up any of his wealth and distribute it to those that rightly deserve it. When Bard on behalf of the people of Lake-town wants compensation for the destruction of their homes by Smaug, Thorin refuses to cooperate entirely.

He did not reckon with the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded, nor with dwarvish hearts. Long hours in the past days Thorin had spent in the treasury, and the lust of it was heavy on him. (Tolkien, Hobbit 306)

While Thorin is a sort of secondary protagonist in The Hobbit, he cuts a poor figure compared to Bilbo. Where Bilbo rises above the traditional weaknesses of his race, Thorin succumbs to his. His death at the end of the novel is perhaps thematically inevitable. He finds redemption by joining hands with his former enemies to fight the greater adversary, the Goblins. “To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!” (Tolkien, Hobbit 328), he cries in the midst of battle; finally acknowledging his place by the side of the righteous folk of Middle-earth united against evil. The theme of alliances between different races, in battle against evil forces, is a recurring motif in Tolkien’s legendarium. It serves as an attempt to erase the differences between those races when faced with a common enemy and signals hope for a future of better co-existence. As Thorin lies dying he admits to Bilbo that “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world” (Tolkien, Hobbit 333). Thus by admitting the error of his ways Thorin finally breaks the “continuum of greed” and emerges as a hero.

Another character who becomes a part of the cycle of greed in The Hobbit is the Master of Lake-town. He acts as a foil to Bard and unlike him does not prove to be an effective leader of his people, trying instead to abandon them and save himself during Smaug’s attack on Lake-town. It is discovered at the end that he runs away with the gold given to him to help rebuild Lake-town and finally dies alone and friendless, the last victim of the dragon-sickness that claimed many others before him. A character who does

100 not play a very important part in The Hobbit but who would go on to become the very symbol of greed and the consequences of materialism in The Lord of the Rings is Gollum. Bilbo’s meeting with Gollum in The Hobbit is a fateful one, though he does not realize this until much later. It is from Gollum after all that Bilbo steals the One Ring, an event which acts as a catalyst for the War of the Ring. The One Ring is still merely a magic ring that grants its wearer invisibility and helps Bilbo in many of his escapades throughout the novel. However, it would later incite far more dangerous passions in those who covet it than even the treasure hoard of Smaug. Though the One Ring’s true nature is not revealed, Gollum’s obsession with it is apparent even in The Hobbit. When he discovers that Bilbo has taken the Ring he utters a “blood curdling shriek, filled with hate and despair” (Tolkien, Hobbit 102) and promises to hate Bilbo forever. A promise he keeps when his continued obsession makes him reveal the Ring’s location to Sauron and brings the Nazgûl to the Shire, initiating the events which lead up to the War of the Ring at the end of the Third Age.

The quest narrative of The Hobbit is such that Bilbo and the Company have new experiences in every chapter. These experiences are often based around their encounters with creatures from the Middle-earth legendarium, both friend and foe. These episodic encounters help to expand the mythology of Middle-earth by introducing the many creatures that inhabit its land and the roles they play in maintaining the balance of the natural world. The sub-creation in Tolkien’s mythopoeia is an etymological exercise. For him it was not enough just to populate his stories with fantastical creatures from mythology. He revised their myths for his purposes and introduced them as characters integral to both the plots and themes of his works. Just like the more human-like races of Elves, Men, Dwarves, hobbits and Orcs, the various animals also acquire distinct characteristics that define their place within the legendarium. More often than not the animals are sentient creatures who have an intelligence comparable to the humanoid races. They have the gift of language which allows them to become part of the narrative in a way that makes them important characters and representatives of different aspects of the natural world. Christopher Tolkien, regarding his father’s use of intelligent animals, writes –

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What of talking beasts and birds with reasoning and speech? These have been rather lightly adopted from less ‘serious’ mythologies, but play a part which cannot now be excised. (Tolkien, Morgoth’s 409-410)

Talking animals have long been a staple of fairy tales and children’s literature. They serve the dual purpose of providing amusement to the young reader by creating a fantastical world that stimulates the child’s imagination, as well as anthropomorphizing various aspects of culture and morality through the vehicle of fantasy. Catherine Elick uses a Bakhtinian lens to shed light upon the role that animals play in narratives that portray them as sentient beings with the power of speech –

Bakhtin’s concept of dialogism helps explain how readers, when they engage with animal characters who can express and define themselves through human language, enter into a dialogic relationship with animals that stimulates ethical interaction with them. Equally, his notion of carnival provides a framework for understanding how hierarchies of power – whether they be based on social class or species – can be questioned and enfeebled. Bakhtin’s distrust of systems and his emphasis on the everyday complement readers’ testimonials of how witnessing literary animals and humans struggling to live in true community, especially in quotidian rather than utopian settings, has inspired their life-long concern for animals. (9-10)

The idea of community is especially important in Tolkien’s ethical considerations regarding the natural world. While Tolkien was not a pantheist by faith, the world he created has elements of the cyclical and unifying nature of the natural world. The interdependence and cooperation of all creations of the Valar is crucial to building a harmonious environment. Since Tolkien employs myth in his sub-creation, the disruption of the environment acquires mythic proportions and is manifested by representing various races including animals as symbols of both good and evil. He infuses the behavioral characteristics of his characters with moral concerns, thereby making his narratives regarding animals and the natural world a reflection of his ideas regarding nature. Viewed through an ecocritical perspective, the examination of Tolkien’s animals becomes imperative to understanding the role they play within society. Human interaction with the

102 animal kingdom has not been favorable, especially since the advancement of society on industrial and technological lines. Human activity – both expansion and pollution – has depleted the habitats of various species and threatens their existence. Reading Tolkien in such an environment becomes especially illuminating. His treatment of both plants and animals underpins his environmental ethic by bestowing upon them an importance and power that establishes them as the denizens and inheritors of the Earth as much as humans.

The Hobbit introduces a new creature, both humanoid and bestial, in almost every chapter. Since it was Tolkien’s earliest foray into the fairy tale world that he would later link with the mythopoeic legendarium created in parts in the early drafts of The Silmarillion and more fully combined with elements of myth in The Lord of the Rings, there is a marked difference in the style in which the creatures are represented in The Hobbit compared to the other two works. They are quite lighthearted in character and manner and have more in common with the animals in children’s’ fantasies like Narnia and Alice in Wonderland than with creatures of mythology. The Goblins have not yet been identified with the Orcs of The Lord of the Rings and retain a certain comical villainy different from the outright horror of Orc society in the latter book. The Trolls come across more as bumbling idiots than the fearsome servants of evil they would become later. They are the first creatures encountered by Bilbo and the Company after leaving the Shire and prove to be the first test of Bilbo’s resourcefulness and ability to get the Company out of scrapes. Gregory Hartley in his essay ‘Civilized Goblins and Talking Animals: How The Hobbit Created Problems of Sentience for Tolkien’ writes –

The fact that they talk at all … causes them to stand out from the legions of Orcs, Balrogs, and even the great Sauron himself, all of whom possess certain sentience and superior intellect. Signs of civilization linger closely around the trolls’ fireside: they carry coin purses, they have a developed culinary aesthetic which makes cooking methodology a debatable topic, they use tools, and collect treasure. These signs point to human sapience rather than bestial evil. (117)

The Goblins of The Hobbit are similarly instilled with colourful personalities. One of the downsides of the evolution of Goblins into Orcs has been their transformation into a

103 collective one-dimensional identity of evildoing. In The Hobbit, the Goblins have a structured society headed by the Great Goblin, they sing songs together and practice a profession similar to the Dwarves. In many ways the race of Goblins is a foil to the race of Dwarves in The Hobbit. Both live underground and are miners and metal workers, but where the Dwarves are civilized, the Goblins are barbaric. Unlike the egalitarian communities of Dwarf kingdoms, Goblins employ slave and prison labour and have harsh working conditions. The goods that they produce are devoid of beauty and are used for evil purposes. Describing the profession of the Goblins, Tolkien makes a comment upon contemporary industrialized society –

It is not unlikely that they invented some of the machines that have since troubled the world, especially the ingenious devices for killing large numbers of people at once, for wheels and engines and explosions always delighted them, and also not working with their own hands more than they could help; but in those days and those wild parts they had not advanced (as it is called) so far. (Tolkien, Hobbit 74)

This is the most direct commentary on war that Tolkien has made in The Hobbit. It especially betrays the influence of the World Wars upon Tolkien. Pastoral agrarianism which employs the physical labour of people is pitted against industrialization, with an increasing dependency upon machinery. In Tolkien’s opinion the technical advancements that the world was undergoing in the 20th century had a darker side that manifested itself in the increasing scope of war and destruction. Other dark creatures that the Company encounters on its journey are the Wargs, an evil race of talking wolves who ally themselves with the Goblins, and the Spiders of Mirkwood who within the larger context of the legendarium are descended from the great spider Ungoliant, who in the service of Morgoth destroyed the Two Trees of Valinor. Gollum in The Hobbit can be counted more in the ranks of its creatures rather than its humanoid races as his history and role in the story have not been fully explored yet. Many critics compare Gollum with the character of Grendel in Beowulf, citing the influence of the work upon Tolkien. Bilbo’s interaction with Gollum as he engages with him in a game of riddles, is similar to the myth of Oedipus and the Sphinx and is an important trope in quest narratives where one of the challenges faced by the hero is a battle of wits. Gollum’s character in the legendarium,

104 even as early as in The Hobbit, exemplifies the degeneration of nature in the grips of material desire and greed.

Not all creatures that the Company meets are agents of evil. Many, especially the more bestial, are representations of the natural world in keeping with Tolkien’s philosophy of nature as a guide and saviour of humanity. The Eagles of Middle-earth have gone down in popular culture as one of the most famous examples of literary dues ex machina. They arrive at the opportune moment to deliver the heroes from an insurmountable predicament. Famously rescuing Frodo and Sam from Mount Doom in The Lord of the Rings, in The Hobbit they similarly rescue Bilbo, Gandalf and the Company when they have been cornered by the Goblins.

Eagles are not kindly birds. Some are cowardly and cruel. But the ancient race of the northern mountains were the greatest of all birds; they were proud and strong and noble hearted. They did not love goblins, or fear them…The goblins hated the eagles and feared them, but could not reach their lofty seats, or drive them from the mountains. (Tolkien, Hobbit 121)

The description of Eagles indicates that nature, personified by the most worthy of its allies, is free from the fear and threat of evil. Nature takes care of its own. By living a life at one with the natural environment, the Eagles exist above the trials of the humanoid races and are not affected by their evil. Because they represent an environmental ethic that views nature as a saviour, they are in a position to give assistance whenever needed to the forces that are fighting evil. The Eagles also join the Battle of the Five Armies and are instrumental in driving away the Goblin hoard. Two other kinds of birds help the Company on their quest and provide crucial information that leads to the ultimate defeat of Smaug. A thrush appears before the Company when they were trying to find a way in through the backdoor of Erebor, and assists them in finding the keyhole. Thorin praises the thrush outlining the Dwarves’ long association with the bird –

The thrushes are good and friendly – this is a very old bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of the ancient breed that used to live about here, tame to the hands of my father and grandfather. They were a long-lived and magical race … The Men

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of Dale used to have the trick of understanding their language, and used them for messengers. (Tolkien, Hobbit 264)

Later the same thrush who assists the Dwarves also brings Bard the information about the weakness in Smaug’s armour. Bard who was the descendant of the Men of Dale was able to understand its language. The ravens are also birds who had a close relationship with the Dwarves. The leader of the ravens, Roäc son of Carc, brings the news of Smaug’s death to the Dwarves and advises Thorin to trust in Bard and his efforts to establish peace in the region, an advice which Thorin chooses to ignore. The community established between the Dwarves, the Men of Dale, and the thrushes and ravens, before the coming of Smaug, pays off; as the birds’ assistance becomes a critical factor in defeating Smaug. It is another example of how a life lived in communion with nature acts as a boon and as a protection against the trials of evil. One of the most interesting characters in The Hobbit is Beorn. He is in many ways a precursor to Tom Bombadil and Treebeard in The Lord of the Rings and is like them an enigmatic and fascinating personification of natural values. Beorn is a skin-changer who can transform into a black bear and thus stands at the threshold between man and beast, displaying the best qualities of both. He occupies the position of patron and guardian of his land. He has successfully established a natural utopia in his home and like a wild Dr Dolittle he is able to converse with animals and lives surrounded by them. Dickerson and Evans discuss the role of Beorn within the legendarium as similar to the horticulturalist benevolent rulers like Elves and Tom Bombadil who work for the good of their land –

Both are gardeners of some note, both act as managers of their respective domains, and both show great loving care for the realms under their dominion … Beorn, a wonderful caregiver for the creatures in his household, is clearly the ruler of his realm—and a powerful one at that. The animals follow his commands, but woe to anyone who attempts to tamper with the animals he tends. (43)

Beorn, because of his close relationship with the natural world, is inherently powerful. The Goblins and Wargs fear him and do not dare to cross into his domain. Like the Eagles, Beorn who is the very personification of nature itself, then becomes a guardian and protector of the Company.

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The various creatures, while they have a definite role at the level of plot, also contribute immensely to the natural imagery within Tolkien’s text. The oneness of Middle-earth’s creatures with the land is illustrated by their descriptions in terms of the natural world. Crossing over the Misty Mountains, Bilbo and the Dwarves experience a thunderstorm. The image invoked is that of a thunder-battle between two huge stone- giants and their battling becoming an aspect of the thunderstorm itself. This is an example of animism whereby nature acquires a living soul and its phenomena become the activities of the creatures that are animated by it. The maneuvers of the stone-giants’ battle have parallels in the features of a thunderstorm –

The stone-giants were out and were hurling rocks at one another for a game, and catching them, and tossing them down into the darkness where they smashed among the trees far below, or splintered into little bits with a bang. Then came a wind and a rain, and the wind whipped the rain and the hail about in every direction … They could hear the giants guffawing and shouting all over the mountainsides. (Tolkien, Hobbit 67)

The mountainside gets animated by the actions of the stone-giants and nature asserts itself as a powerful, sentient force. The coming of Smaug to Erebor and his attack on it has also been described in terms of a natural disaster –

The first we heard of it was a noise like a hurricane coming from the North, and the pine trees on the Mountain creaking and cracking in the wind … Then he came down the slopes and when he reached the woods they all went up in fire … The river rushed up in steam and a fog fell on Dale. (Tolkien, Hobbit 29)

The impact of Smaug’s attack on Erebor and its surrounding areas is similar to that of a major natural disaster. From a busy and bustling community it was transformed into a wasteland and came to be known as the Lonely Mountain. When Smaug was finally killed, it was a cathartic purging of evil from the land, restoring it to its former balance. Smaug’s role within the narrative of The Hobbit is of one who disrupts the natural order of things and spurs the heroic journey of the protagonists. His representation as a natural disaster that overtakes the region and must be faced has an interesting parallel with

107 current day climate change. Like Smaug whose evil causes the destruction of the land, climate change caused by human activities has contributed to the frequent recurrence of natural disasters like droughts, heat waves and hurricanes that humanity must now face.

The relevance of The Hobbit as a book to be both enjoyed and critically examined lies in the universality of its themes and the imaginative originality of its craft. Tolkien, casually writing about hobbits living in holes, could not have then predicted how universally adored his novel would become. While it continues to be read and loved by children and adults alike, a Tolkien scholar can find in its pages many themes that require a close and critical reading. There are hints of Tolkien’s mythopoeic sub-creation as many of the elements in The Hobbit would go on to join the mythic universe of his early writings from The Silmarillion in The Lord of the Rings. While Tolkien was not explicitly writing a mythical history of England yet, the seeds were sown of his great historiographic undertaking that would comprise his entire legendarium, including The Hobbit. From an ecocritical perspective the novel becomes an exemplification of Tolkien’s own values. His environmental ethic is reflected throughout the simple tale of adventure. It is the story of an ordinary hobbit who goes on an extraordinary adventure and passes through various lands and people experiencing their cultures and developing his own opinions about home and adventure, greed and nature and the importance of becoming a conscientious member of the natural community.

When The Hobbit was published in 1937 it was unanimously lauded by critics. In a review in the London Times, Tolkien’s friend C.S. Lewis, wrote –

The truth is that in this book a number of good things, never before united, have come together: a fund of humour, an understanding of children, and a happy fusion of the scholar's with the poet's grasp of mythology... The professor has the air of inventing nothing. He has studied trolls and dragons at first hand and describes them with that fidelity that is worth oceans of glib originality. (Lewis)

The Hobbit, as Lewis predicted in another review, would go on to become a classic. W.H. Auden in his review of The Fellowship of the Ring called The Hobbit “one of the best children's stories of this century” (Auden). The Hobbit has indeed entered popular

108 imagination as one of the most beloved stories in the English language. Eighty-one years after its publication it continues to be on the required reading list of children’s literary canon. References to the world of The Hobbit can be found in the most unexpected of places. A rather bizarre video can be found on Youtube of Leonard Nimoy of fame (where he plays the redoubtable Mr. Spock) singing and dancing to a song called ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins’. As his fellow dancers sport hobbit-ears (which can double as Vulcan ears) and badges reading ‘Hobbits Unite’, Nimoy sings –

In the Middle of the Earth, in the land of Shire

Lives a brave little hobbit whom we all admire

With his long, wooden pipe

Fuzzy, wooly toes

He lives in a hobbit-hole and everybody knows him

Bilbo (Bilbo!), Bilbo Baggins

The bravest little hobbit of 'em all!

(Nimoy)

The seeming incongruity of Mr. Spock singing about Bilbo Baggins is but a reminder of the universality of the story of The Hobbit. One likes to believe that hundreds of years in the future an alien like Spock, on encountering human culture, would become a fan of The Hobbit, and similarly declare that Bilbo is indeed “The bravest little hobbit of 'em all!”

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Works Cited

“Dwarf.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 15 Feb. 2018, www.britannica.com/topic/dwarf-mythology.

Auden, W.H. “The Hero Is a Hobbit.” The New York Times, 31 Oct. 1954.

Brackmann, Rebecca. “‘Dwarves Are Not Heroes’: Antisemitism and the Dwarves in J.R.R. Tolkien's Writing.” Mythlore: A Journal of J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Charles Williams, and Mythopoeic Literature, vol. 28, 15 Apr. 2010.

Carpenter, Humphrey. J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin, 2000.

Dickerson, Matthew and Jonathan Evans. Ents, Elves and Eriador: the Environmental Vision of J.R.R. Tolkien. The University Press of Kentucky, 2006.

Hartley, Gregory. “Civilized Goblins and Talking Animals: How The Hobbit Created Problems of Sentience for Tolkien.” The Hobbit and Tolkien's Mythology: Essays on Revisions and Influences, edited by Bradford Lee Eden, McFarland & Company Inc., 2014, pp. 113–135.

Edwards, Owen Dudley. British Children's Fiction in the Second World War. Edinburgh University Press, 2007.

Elick, Catherine. Talking Animals in Children’s Fiction: A Critical Study. McFarland & Company, Inc., 2015.

Gerrolt, D. “Now Read On.” BBC, 1971.

Humboldt, Alexander von. COSMOS: A Sketch of a Physical Description of the Universe. Translated by E. C. Otté , Vol. 1. Harper & Brothers, 1858.

Jackson, Peter, director. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. Warner Bros. Pictures, 2012.

Jakobsson, Ármann. “The Hole: Problems in Medieval Dwarfology.” Arv Nordic Yearbook of Folklore, Vol. 61, 2005, pp. 53–76.

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Lewis, C.S. “Professor Tolkien's ‘Hobbit.’” The Times, 8 Oct. 1937

Murphy, Patrick D. Farther Afield in the Study of Nature-oriented Literature. University of Virginia Press, 2000.

Nimoy, Leonard. “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins”. Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy. Dot Records, 1968.

Rateliff, John D. A Brief History of The Hobbit. HarperCollins, 2015.

Said, Edward. “Reflections on Exile.” Granta: After the Revolution, 1984.

Schama, Simon. Landscape and Memory. Vintage Books, 1996.

Shippey, Tom. The Road to Middle-earth: How J.R.R. Tolkien Created a New Mythology. Houghton Mifflin Company, 2003.

Stanton, Michael N. “Bilbo Baggins.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 64–66.

–––––––– “Hobbits.” J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment , Edited by Michael D.C. Drout, Taylor & Francis Group, 2007, pp. 280–282.

Thoreau, Henry D. Walden. Princeton University Press, 2004.

Tolkien, J.R.R. Morgoth’s Ring. Edited by Christopher Tolkien, HarperCollinsPublishers, 1994.

–––––––– Tales from the Perilous Realm. HarperCollinsPublishers, 2008.

–––––––– The Hobbit. HarperCollinsPublishers, 2013.

–––––––– The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000.

–––––––– The Silmarillion. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. HarperCollins Publishers, 1999.

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Toynbee, Arnold. Mankind and Mother Earth: A Narrative History of the World. Oxford University Press, 1976.

Tuan, Yi-Fu. Romantic Geography: In Search of the Sublime Landscape. The University of Wisconsin Press, 2013.

Wordsworth, William. Poems, in Two Volumes. Vol. 1, Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme, 1807.

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Chapter 4

“Where many paths and errands meet”

The Lord of the Rings

Chapter 4

“Where many paths and errands meet”

The Lord of the Rings

In the Foreword to the second edition of The Lord of the Rings Tolkien writes –

The tale grew in telling, until it became a history of the Great War of the Ring and included many glimpses of the yet more ancient history that preceded it. It was begun soon after The Hobbit was written and before its publication in 1937; but I did not go on with this sequel, for I wished first to complete and set in order the mythology and legends of the Elder Days, which had been taking shape for some years. (Lord xxii)

The Lord of the Rings can thus be seen as the culmination of the many decades Tolkien spent formulating his rich mythopoeia. It is essentially a cross between the familiar tale of The Hobbit and the more epic mythology of The Silmarillion and other early writings. The Lord of the Rings was written to fulfil the expectations of the readers of The Hobbit who wished for more tales about hobbits. But it was only after 17 years from The Hobbit’s 1937 release that The Lord of the Rings was published in 1954. The popular demand for a sequel led to the creation of a tale that was not just a simple continuation of the story of The Hobbit but also an evolution of the style and subject matter. The Hobbit, primarily a children’s story, has by Tolkien’s own admission a “silliness of manner” (Letters 215). Though fans of his work may enjoy this particular brand of silliness in The Hobbit’s prose style, Tolkien himself regretted employing it and The Lord of the Rings’ significantly different tone is a testament to that. At its crux The Lord of the Rings remains a story told through the eyes of a hobbit, but thematically it draws upon the rich mythical framework that Tolkien had been developing for most of his life. He writes –

The story was drawn irresistibly towards the older world, and became an account, as it were, of its end and passing away before its beginning and middle had been told. The process had begun in the writing of The Hobbit, in which there were already some references to the older matter…The discovery of the significance of

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these glimpses and of their relation to the ancient histories revealed the Third Age and its culmination in the War of the Ring. (Lord xxii)

The Silmarillion would of course be published posthumously in 1977 and give a fuller account of Tolkien’s mythopoeia, but at the time of The Lord of the Rings’ publication it was the only work by Tolkien that provided a glimpse of the many-layered and intricate history of his fictional mythology. What is remarkable about the book is that while its narrative reaches towards lofty matters, grand both in scope and theme, it retains the warmth and familiarity that characterized the style of The Hobbit. At the same time it displays a significant evolution and development of thematic and mythological elements. The characters become more multidimensional, the stakes get higher and more epic in nature and the narrative much more complex. The story of Frodo Baggins’ adventures is as much a thematic sequel of Bilbo’s story as it is an actual one. In particular Tolkien’s environmental ethic, only hints of which could be seen in The Hobbit, is fully realized in The Lord of the Rings and becomes an inextricable part of the plot structure.

It is often mistakenly believed that The Lord of the Rings was written as a trilogy. An impression reinforced by its adaptation by Peter Jackson into a three-part movie series. In a letter to Houghton Mifflin Tolkien wrote –

The book is not of course a ‘trilogy’. That and the titles of the volumes was a fudge thought necessary for publication, owing to length and cost. There is no real division into 3, nor is any one part intelligible alone. The story was conceived and written as a whole and the only natural divisions are the ‘books’ I-VI (which originally had titles). (Letters 221)

The novel is divided into a Prologue, six Books and an additional six Appendices. For the purpose of publication these were divided by George Allen & Unwin into three volumes – The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers and The Return of the King, published on 29th July 1954, 11th November 1954 and 20th October 1955, respectively. The initial reviews to The Lord of the Rings were mixed. Edmund Wilson reviewing The Fellowship of the Ring in 1956 wrote –

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One is puzzled to know why the author should have supposed he was writing for adults. There are, to be sure, some details that are a little unpleasant for a children's book, but except when he is being pedantic and also boring the adult reader, there is little in The Lord of the Rings over the head of a seven-year-old child. It is essentially a children's book – a children's book which has somehow got out of hand, since, instead of directing it at the juvenile market, the author has indulged himself in developing the fantasy for its own sake. (Wilson)

Wilson’s review, a particularly scathing one, summed up Tolkien’s writing as ‘juvenile balderdash’. The irony of such a statement is that The Lord of the Rings spurred a genre of literature that blurred the lines between fiction for children and adults – the kind of writing that does not underestimate the intelligence of children or the imagination of adults. Even earlier classics of children’s fantasy like Peter Pan and Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland have inspired many-layered readings that have captivated adults and children alike. The current cinematic obsession with superhero narratives and the popularity of books like the Harry Potter series show how popular consumption of art has become more inclusive and less dismissive of what was once considered irrelevant and juvenile. Philip Toynbee, in an article written in the Observer in 1961, declared that “these books were dull, ill-written, whimsical and childish … and today those books have passed into a merciful oblivion” (Toynbee). His judgment came a moment too soon and in retrospect sounds laughable as Tolkien’s works capitulated to fame soon afterwards. The Lord of the Rings gained immense popularity during the counter-culture movement of the 60s. Young college students wholeheartedly embraced its metanarratives of good versus evil as a reflection of the socio-political turmoil of their own lives. Its popularity has continued more than six decades after it was first published, with sales of the book getting rejuvenated with the release of the film series in 2001. What many had criticized as too simplistic or juvenile in Tolkien’s writings would in fact become the reason for its enduring popularity – its overarching themes that underlie the core of humanity’s moral and physical struggles through the ages. One of Tolkien’s most favourable critics, the poet W.H. Auden, indentified this universal symbolism in his works and wrote in his 1954 review of The Fellowship of the Ring –

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If one is to take a tale of this kind seriously, one must feel that, however superficially unlike the world we live in its characters and events may be, it nevertheless holds up the mirror to the only nature we know, our own; in this, too, Mr. Tolkien has succeeded superbly, and what happened in the year of the Shire 1418 in the Third Age of Middle Earth is not only fascinating in A. D. 1954 but also a warning and an inspiration. (Auden)

The tale of The Lord of the Rings, seen as a warning and inspiration, becomes especially relevant when viewed through an ecocritical perspective. Recent Tolkien scholarship has become increasingly aware of reading Tolkien in light of current environmental concerns. Such is the universality of The Lord of the Rings’ themes that every subsequent generation is able to identify with its core morality and discover in it new meanings and nuances. While many of Tolkien’s contemporary critics failed to see the dynamism of his writings he has enjoyed enduring popularity right from the beginning. The Lord of the Rings received the International Fantasy Award in 1957. In many surveys and polls it has been voted the most beloved book of all times. Even the films based on it have achieved overwhelming critical and commercial success with The Return of the King winning 11 Academy Awards, the highest number given to a movie, tying it with Titanic and Ben- Hur.

When discussing Tolkien’s works it is important to understand his relationship with allegory particularly in context of The Lord of the Rings which has often been read through an allegorical lens. It is widely known that Tolkien disliked allegory. When The Lord of the Rings was first published Tolkien received letters from many fans and critics making guesses and asking for clarifications about the hidden or underlying meanings in the text. The most common assumption was that the war depicted in the book was an allegory of the First or Second World Wars. In the Foreword to the Second Edition Tolkien clarifies his stance –

I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse ‘applicability’ with ‘allegory’; but the one resides in the

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freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author. (Lord xxiv)

By separating allegory from applicability Tolkien shifts any allegorical reading of his works from the author’s intent to the reader’s interpretation. He was aware that mythology by its very nature was in some ways allegorical as it operates on the level of symbols and archetypes. In a letter to Milton Waldman, Tolkien writes –

I dislike Allegory – the conscious and intentional allegory – yet any attempt to explain the purport of myth or fairytale must use allegorical language. (And, of course, the more 'life' a story has the more readily will it be susceptible of allegorical interpretations: while the better a deliberate allegory is made the more nearly will it be acceptable just as a story.) (Letters 145)

Therefore it is not allegory that Tolkien dislikes but the kind of conscious and deliberate allegory which is purposely constructed. While denying all intent towards allegory on his part he acknowledges the subconscious allegory present in mythical narratives. It was for this reason that Tolkien did not approve of the allegory in C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series. Lewis’ Christian allegory operates on a very obvious level, so much so that modern readers may find it distasteful and akin to religious propaganda. The Narnia film series, adapting the works to the screen, omitted much of the obvious allegory in them. On the other hand Tolkien’s works, especially The Lord of the Rings, also contain elements of Christian values but they are incorporated so subtly that they become indistinguishable from the internal myth and are more easily accepted and appreciated by modern and secular audiences. Catherine Madsen in her article ‘‘Light from an Invisible Lamp’: Natural Religion in The Lord of the Rings’ observes that “in The Lord of the Rings God is not shown forth, nor does he even speak, but acts in history with the greatest subtlety” (47). It can be argued that the universality of his spiritualism and religious sensibility is one of the reasons why Tolkien’s mythology has held up to the test of time much more favourably than Lewis’ fantasy. There is no doubt that Tolkien’s experiences moulded the elements of his narrative – his love for the English country life, his disgust with the destructive forces of industrialization and his experiences during the Wars. However these experiences are expressed through the language of myth and fairy-tale rather than

117 as direct parallels. Allegory is often a mirror of the author’s personal morality injected into the plot as a pervasive viewpoint which deliberately directs the readers’ opinions. Tolkien chooses to express his morality by intermixing it with mythological underpinnings, thus making it not manipulative but inspirational.

Claude Levi-Strauss in his structuralist theory of mythology breaks down myths into constituent units called mythemes which describe the structural relationship between characters and events. This allows for the examination of different aspects of myths in their most basic irreducible form and finds relationships between mythemes from different texts implying a common source. The mytheme of the orphaned hero recurs in mythology. Frodo in The Lord of the Rings embodies this. Recently in works that have been influenced by Tolkien such as Harry Potter and Star Wars, its protagonists’ display this mytheme of orphanhood and isolation. Another prominent mytheme in The Lord of the Rings is that of the displaced or exiled king who eventually reclaims his royal birthright. In Arthurian legend Arthur pulls the sword Excalibur out of the stone giving him authority as a ruler. Similarly Aragorn belongs to a displaced royal line whose legitimacy is symbolized by his ancestral sword Andúril. A structuralist interpretation of Tolkien’s mythology however brings it at odds with the emphasis Tolkien placed upon the power of imagination in the creative process. An approach that has more affinity with the style of Tolkien is Carl Jung’s theory of archetypes, which can be applied to Tolkien’s mythological framework in order to understand the source of his artistic construction. Jung views various symbolic images or archetypes in mythology as products of the collective unconscious. He writes – “The collective unconscious is common to all; it is the foundation of what the ancients called the “sympathy of all things” (Jung 76). In a letter to W.H. Auden, Tolkien describes a similar experience –

I daresay something had been going on in the ‘unconscious’ for some time, and that accounts for my feeling throughout, especially when stuck, that I was not inventing but reporting (imperfectly) and had at times to wait till ‘what really happened’ came through. (Letters 212)

Arguably both Jung and Tolkien are drawing from the same source, a vast reservoir of imagination and creative energy that is fuelled by the human capacity to create images

118 and symbols that cut across space and time. It is the basis of humanity’s pervasive mythical narratives within which points of commonality can be observed. The Jungian archetype of the wise old man or the senex who acts as a mentor to the protagonist can be seen in the character of Gandalf. He is a guide and protector, sometimes hermit-like and at other times authoritative, who warns the protagonists of dangers and becomes their moral and philosophical compass. The senex, in fantasy narratives, is most commonly depicted as a wizard. Northrop Frye defines the Jungian ‘wise old man’ to be “like Prospero, Merlin, or the palmer of Spenser's second quest, often a magician who affects the action he watches over” (195). The senex is a figure that is present in the myths and legends of almost all cultures, both ancient and modern. The Norse God Odin who is often represented as a wandering hermit is believed to be one of the main inspirations for the character of Gandalf. Merlin from the Arthurian legends, as well as modern iterations of the senex in Dumbledore from Harry Potter and Obi-wan Kenobi from Star Wars, are all archetypal successors and predecessors of Gandalf. The hero archetype in The Lord of the Rings is more complex. Both Frodo and Aragorn qualify and represent different aspects of the whole. In her essay, ‘Frodo and Aragorn: the Concept of the Hero’, Verlyn Flieger writes –

In The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien has written a medieval story and given it both kinds of hero, the extraordinary man to give the epic sweep of great events, and the common man who has the immediate poignant appeal of someone with whom the reader can identify. (124)

Frodo and Aragorn both have their own hero quests that they must accomplish. Frodo is the reluctant, sacrificial hero who must bear the burden of defeating evil by sacrificing part of his own self. Like Christ bears the cross, he must bear the ring in order to become the saviour. Aragorn represents the chivalrous knights of medieval literature; he is the exiled king who must reclaim his kingdom. He is also the animus (idealized male archetype) to Arwen’s anima (idealized female archetype). Much like their spiritual predecessors Beren and Lúthien in The Silmarillion, their marriage signifies the union of the masculine and the feminine forming the sygzy or divine pair. Galadriel is both an anima and a mother figure. Like a mother she shelters the Fellowship at Lothlórien and

119 nurtures and prepares them for further trails. Éowyn fulfils the shieldmaiden archetype. She rebels against the confines of traditional femininity and prefers death in battle. Gollum is the shadow of Frodo. He is both the opposite of and part of Frodo. He represents the darker consequences of being a ring-bearer. Their journey together can be said to be a process of individuation which in Jungian psychology refers to the integration of the whole individual self from various aspects of personality and psyche. Gollum in himself displays a shadow self distinct from his positive self Sméagol, a remnant of his former identity. He is representative of a self that has been all but consumed by the shadow. Perhaps the most interesting relationship between Jung’s collective unconscious and Tolkien’s mythical imagination is, as Becca S. Tarnas points out in her essay ‘The Red Book and the Red Book: Jung, Tolkien, and the Convergence of Images’, the physical and thematic parallels between Jung’s The Red Book and Tolkien’s The Red Book of Westmarch. While The Red Book is an actual manuscript written by Jung recording the experiences of his imagination, and The Red Book of Westmarch is an imaginary volume; a metafictional conceit used by Tolkien, Tarnas notes between them certain striking similarities –

As I began to explore Jung’s Red Book in the context of Tolkien’s writings I started to find certain similarities between their works beyond the titles and color of the leather binding. There seemed to be a certain resonance between the two bodies of work, a convergence of images—a synchronicity, in Jung’s terminology—a synchronicity of imagination. (Tarnas)

This “synchronicity of imagination” is illustrated by the effortless applicability of Jungian archetypes to Tolkien’s mythology.

William Blissett, in an early critical review of The Lord of the Rings published in 1959, opined that it was “perhaps the last literary masterpiece of the Middle Ages” (Blissett). Though the book is very much a modern work designed to appeal to its contemporary readers, there can be no denial of Tolkien’s medieval influences. In both theme and structure The Lord of the Rings borrows extensively from the traditions of medieval sources of which Tolkien was an ardent scholar. The framing device of the Red

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Book of Westmarch has roots in medieval literary practices. Verlyn Flieger in her essay ‘Tolkien and the Idea of the Book’ posits –

It seems clear that Tolkien’s Red Book was intended to echo the great medieval manuscript books … The White Book of Rhydderch, the Black Book of Carmarthen, the Yellow Book of Lecan, and … the real Red Book of Hergest. These are unique, anonymously authored manuscripts, collections of stories from different periods by different narrators, and brought under one cover by a scribe or copyist. (131)

These medieval manuscripts were handed down over generations and were records of much older texts and oral traditions, embellished and transformed through multiple versions over many centuries. The Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda, both important sources for Tolkien, have a similar literary history. The practice of borrowing from historical and mythical sources to form new narratives has long been a tradition in literary history. Even Early Modern writers like Shakespeare relied heavily on older sources like Plutarch’s Parallel Lives and Holinshed’s Chronicles for subject matter for his plays. This was a method that was rooted in a tradition of conformity and reverence for the past. Tolkien who himself held a nostalgic view of the past, especially the Anglo-Saxon period, undoubtedly found affinity with this sentiment. Richard C. West writes –

From the point of view of medieval aesthetics, originality was not a virtue but a defect: the new had not yet proven its worth, whereas the old had stood the test of time. A medieval author saw his task as that of handing on old matter in a worthy fashion, and if he altered it in the process he was quite likely to pretend that he had a learned source authorizing the change. Tolkien’s “Red Book,” pastiche of scholarship though it is, functions as such a medieval “spurious source,” but the “authority” it imparts is by an appeal not to the tried-and-true but to the modern mystique of “scholarly research”. (92)

Tolkien, within the narrative of the text, becomes a character who exists in the same reality as his sub-creation. He is last in a long line of authors who recorded in and reproduced the Red Book; beginning with Bilbo, the original author, along with later

121 contributors – Frodo, Sam, Sam’s descendants and others. The title page of The Lord of the Rings has lines written at the top and bottom in the Elvish scripts and . Rather than being in any of Tolkien’s invented languages they are transliterated from English. They read – “The Lord of the Rings translated from the Red Book of Westmarch by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. Herein is set forth the history of the War of the Ring and the Return of the King as seen by the hobbits” (Tolkien, Lord). While Tolkien crosses over from the real world to fantasy in the persona of compiler and translator, the Red Book itself crosses over to the real world – our world, in which the actual physical copy of Tolkien’s work are its modern reproduction. The lines between reality and fantasy are blurred as they overlap and give the impression of historicity. Emphasizing this historicity Tolkien gives a brief account of the development of the Red Book in the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings as it changed hands and was added to and annotated by different people. The impression of authenticity that Tolkien creates in forming his feigned history can be seen through his attention and dedication to detail. In Appendix F he explains the process of translating the Red Book from Middle-earth languages into English in detail, outlining various difficulties and nuances. Along with creating a fictional history he was also able to describe a fictional philological task. Being an accomplished philologist and having translated Beowulf from Old to modern English, it must have been undoubtedly an undertaking of special interest and amusement to him. The multiple fictive sources of the Red Book give the suggestion of a diverse selection of voices creating the narrative. At the level of the real world Tolkien remains the true author, but at the level of sub-creation the shared authorship reveals different points of view. The very last chapter of The Lord of the Rings, ‘The Grey Havens’, seems to be in part at least written by Sam after Frodo had left for Valinor and the narrative is clearly focused upon his point of view. The awareness of fictional authorship is in fact evidenced throughout the book primarily through Bilbo. It also works as a sort of meta-comment upon Tolkien’s own writing process. Bilbo, as he sets out from the Shire on the eve of his birthday party, declares to Gandalf –

I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.’

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Gandalf laughed. ‘I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however it ends.’ ‘Oh, they may, in years to come. (Tolkien, Lord 32)

Bilbo was undoubtedly right and many have read his book in subsequent years after it was transferred from the imaginary to the real by Tolkien. Later during the Council of Elrond, before the Fellowship leaves on their quest, Gandalf tells Bilbo – “Finish your book, and leave the ending unaltered! There is still hope for it. But get ready to write a sequel, when they come back” (Tolkien, Lord 270). The sequel undoubtedly being The Lord of the Rings itself, this sounds like a tongue-in-cheek reference to the very book in which these lines are written. While such references add to the humour of the plot, it is also important to understand that their self-referential nature has significant effect in creating the feeling of historical consciousness in the narrative.

The mythical consciousness of time in most Eastern mythologies is cyclic in nature. The concept of the cycle of yugas or ages in Hinduism and the Kalachakra or the Wheel of Time in Buddhism, point to an endless cycle of eternal recurrence. Western mythology including Abrahamic myths on the other hand display a historical consciousness of time which starts with creation myths and ends with an apocalyptic event that frees humanity from the confines of the material world. Tolkien’s conception of time, based on Western myths, takes a step further in its historical basis and places it within the context of contemporary society. His mythology is essentially a feigned history of the present world. In The Silmarillion geographical changes in the physical world are explained in mythical language – the physical plane is transformed from a flat surface to a globe. The Lord of the Rings develops this concept further and ends the narrative at the dawn of the Fourth Age, which is essentially the Age of Men. Communities of Men begin to take centre-stage in the socio-political environment. At the end of the War of the Ring Gandalf counsels Aragorn –

This is your realm, and the heart of the greater realm that shall be. The Third Age of the world is ended, and the new age is begun; and it is your task to order its beginning and to preserve what may be preserved … And all the lands that you

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see, and those that lie round about them, shall be dwellings of Men. For the time comes of the Dominion of Men. (Tolkien, Lord 971)

It is essentially a prediction of the future when Men, or human beings, would inhabit all parts of the world. The present time is, in context of the mythopoeia, an extension of the Fourth Age. The fantastical humanoids like Elves and hobbits start to diminish and become scarce in the Fourth Age. In the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings the hobbits’ presence in the real world is hinted at – “Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more numerous formerly than they are today … Even in ancient days they were, as a rule, shy of 'the Big Folk', as they call us, and now they avoid us with dismay and are becoming hard to find” (Tolkien, Lord 1). Galadriel tells Frodo of the ultimate fate of the Elves – “We must depart into the West, or dwindle to a rustic folk of dell and cave, slowly to forget and to be forgotten” (Tolkien, Lord 365). Both hobbits and Elves are transformed from characters of myth into fairytale creatures – perhaps the pixies, elves and gnomes of the English countryside – and are ultimately relegated to fantasy figures in the modern world of scientific consciousness. Tolkien, therefore, includes them within the mythical history of the real-world. They are not simply products of fantasy but also of historical imagination. The Lord of the Rings is essentially the last tale in the chronology of Tolkien’s mythopoeia. There are hints of an eschatological myth in Tolkien’s writings – a Second Music and a Great End – but the time from the beginning of the Fourth Age to that distant future is open to the inclusion of factual history. Tolkien himself exists within that history as a recorder and narrator through the framing device of the Red Book of Westmarch. The events in The Lord of the Rings pave way for the transformation of a mythical England into a historical England and a mythical, prehistorical era gives way to historical times. However, in spite of the temporal linearity of Tolkien’s narrative, the cycles of mythic time are not completely absent. John A. Calabrese in his article, ‘Continuity with the Past: Mythic Time in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings’, writes –

It is clear that a sense of mythic time exists in the very structure of the epic. The search for basic mythic functions reveals continuity with the deep and sacred past in various aspects of characterization, use of language, and construction of plot. Frodo's task of bearing the Ring is a timeless or continuous struggle, for the Ring

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that he must destroy is a manifestation of “the evil principle against which creation has always struggled.” Ages overlap … The past is never clearly separated from the present. (43)

There are elements of eternal recurrence present in the overarching narrative of the legendarium – not actual but thematic. From the First Age to the Third, and through the narratives of The Silmarillion, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, there are various themes and motifs that recur. Every time evil tyrants rise; who embody egotism, greed and materialism, and each time the forces of good defeat them by forming inter-racial alliances. This is akin to real-world resistance against despotic and totalitarian regimes. It is no wonder that many readers and critics found parallels between Tolkien’s narratives and the Allied struggle against the Nazis during the Second World War. Many believed it to be a deliberate allegorical parallel created by Tolkien, a suggestion the author debunked. However, though unintentional, the similarity between the fictional wars and real-world wars serves to reinforce the idea that the mythical imagination is informed by and exists within historical consciousness.

Another medieval technique that Tolkien applies in The Lord of the Rings is the interlace structure of narrative. Benedict S. Robinson defines interlace as “A way of allowing multiple stories occurring in the same fictive space to affect each other. It is a way of pushing linear narrative into multiple causal dimensions” (240). Interlace was a narrative technique which was commonly used in the narrative structure of the literature of the Middle Ages. Many of the works which influenced Tolkien, such as Beowulf, Wagner’s Ring and Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, have an interlaced structure; with various distinct but interconnected narratives running parallel to each other, sometimes interacting and at other times diverging. This practice gradually fell out of use in favour of a more straightforward, organic narrative technique. However with the beginning of the modern and post-modern ages in literature, as increasing experimentation happened in form and style, there has been a comeback for narrative techniques similar to the interlace. George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series, which owes much to Tolkien’s works and has a medievalist fantasy setting, has a plot structure that employs point of view chapters following specific characters. The narrative

125 threads are interconnected but also have temporal and spatial individuality. In films, the recent trend of having ensemble casts has precipitated the need for parallel narratives. In Christopher Nolan’s 2017 movie Dunkirk, which is about the evacuation of Allied soldiers during the Second World War, the story follows different perspectives on land, sea and in the air; which cover overlapping but different periods of time. The 2018 movie, Avengers: Infinity War, because of its large cast of superheroes, grouped them into separate parallel narratives with each group accomplishing a different but connected role in their fight against the supervillain. George H. Thomson in his article ‘The Lord of the Rings: The Novel as Traditional Romance’, which is one of the early works of Tolkien scholarship, was the first one to suggest that there was an influence of Medieval narrative structure upon The Lord of the Rings. He writes that, “With respect to its subject matter, the story is an anatomy of romance themes and myths; with respect to its structure, the story is a tapestry romance in the Medieval-Renaissance tradition” (Thomson 44). He further elaborates that, “In theory, a tapestry romance can go on indefinitely; in practice, its multiple strands converge towards an ending of sorts” (Thomson 48). Like the interwoven threads of a tapestry the different narrative threads coalesce and form a semantic and structural whole. Richard C. West’s article ‘The Interlace Structure of The Lord of the Rings’ fully examines the interlace narrative of the book. He proposes that interlace is an example of art imitating life with its narrative structure similar to the structure of humanity’s collective existence. West writes –

Interlace … seeks to mirror the perception of the flux of events in the world around us, where everything is happening at once. Its narrative line is digressive and cluttered, dividing our attention among an indefinite number of events, characters, and themes, any one of which may dominate at any given time, and it is often indifferent to cause and effect relationships. The paths of the characters cross, diverge, and recross, and the story passes from one to another and then another but does not follow a single line. (78-79)

The narrative structure of The Lord of the Rings is not just temporal or thematic but also spatial. The significance of the geography of Middle-earth in influencing the events and occurrences within the plot can be observed by tracing the Fellowship’s journey through

126 the various lands. As they progress, the influence of Sauron’s evil on the land becomes more apparent and the journey becomes more difficult. The challenges the Fellowship faces in the beginning of the quest are easier compared to the almost insurmountable difficulties towards the end. As the Fellowship splits up the individual journeys of various groups take them to different regions and the parallel interlacing plot lines can be traced on a map of Middle-earth.

The first narrative thread follows the hobbits Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin as they undertake the journey from the Shire to Rivendell, halfway during which they are joined by Aragorn. In Rivendell their ranks are increased by Gandalf, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli and the narrative continues in a linear fashion until the Fellowship starts to disintegrate with the apparent death of Gandalf in the mines of Moria. From here Gandalf’s narrative separates from the others for a time as he battles the Balrog and experiences a rebirth and transformation. This is narrated later through a flashback. Many of Gandalf’s experiences are revealed in flashbacks such as his search for Gollum before the start of Frodo’s quest and his imprisonment by Saruman during the time the hobbits were travelling between the Shire and Rivendell. Being the itinerant wizard archetype, as in The Hobbit, he disappears from the protagonists’ narratives for short periods of time throughout The Lord of the Rings. This serves the dual purpose of giving him a measure of mystery and allowing the protagonists to face their challenges on their own. The Fellowship finally breaks into three distinct groups after the characters leave Lothlórien and are attacked by orcs causing the death of Boromir. Three separate narratives are formed – Frodo and Sam continue on to Mount Doom with the One Ring, Merry and Pippin are captured by orcs, and Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli set out to rescue them. Frodo and Sam are later joined by Gollum and they journey together to Mordor. Their narrative continues until the final battle, never intertwining with the others (except briefly with Faramir) until just before the end of The Lord of the Rings. Merry and Pippin escape the orcs, meet Treebeard in Fangorn Forest and finally with his help orchestrate the downfall of Saruman. Meanwhile Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli reunite with Gandalf, back from the dead, and get involved in the war of Rohan against the forces of Saruman. After both Saruman and his army are defeated, the narratives of Merry and Pippin are merged again with that of Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. A separation occurs again as

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Gandalf and Pippin journey to Minas Tirith in Gondor. Meanwhile Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli journey through the Paths of the Dead, an account which is later told in flashback. Merry’s narrative combines with Éowyn and the army of Rohan as they ride to battle. The three narratives merge again in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Finally as Frodo, Sam and Gollum climb the slopes of Mount Doom; the rest of the Fellowship arrives outside the Black Gate of Mordor. Here they are the closest they have ever been to the rest of the main characters since their paths diverged on the banks of the Anduin; yet they do not reunite until after Sauron has been vanquished, as the Ring is cast into Mount Doom, and Gandalf rescues them with the help of the Eagles. Thereafter all narratives reconvene and remain together until the Fellowship gradually disbands after the crowning of Aragorn. The hobbits have one last adventure as they work together to liberate the Shire from a re-emerged Saruman. Finally all characters follow the paths of their own lives and the narrative remains mostly linear and singular until the end.

If drawn on a piece of paper in the form of a flow chart or diagram, the structure of the narrative threads would look like the intertwining streams of a river delta or akin to the shape of capillaries. If any of the branches are cut, the flow of the entire story would be interrupted. Therefore the entire complex structure of interlacing narratives would collapse. It is as West describes –

The apparently casual form of the interlace is deceptive; it actually has a very subtle kind of cohesion. No part of the narrative can be removed without damage to the whole, for within any given section there are echoes of previous parts and anticipations of later ones. (79)

There are various elements within the story that serve the purpose of providing cohesion between the different narratives, both at the level of theme and symbol. When each narrative diverges, it is tasked with a quest specific to that divergence and the accomplishment of each quest has a causal relationship with the rest of the narrative. West sums up the interlacing narrative of The Lord of the Rings as –

No single protagonist but a great many individual stories that cross one another; coherence among the interwoven stories; the appearance of a pattern behind the

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flux of events; recurring themes and motifs providing aesthetic and intellectual satisfaction; the events of an imaginary world gaining the illusion of depth and solidity by their mutual interaction and weight of detail. (90)

This technique works wonderfully in favour of Tolkien’s intent to provide historicity to his myth. By using a narrative style that imitates the natural course of human life this impression gets reinforced. The interlace structure also implies a continuity in the narrative, the idea that the story told is part of a larger narrative. Therefore Tolkien’s use of such a structural technique becomes appropriate when considering that the story of The Lord of the Rings is only part of the larger, grander narrative of Tolkien’s mythopoeia. This idea is best exemplified in a conversation between Frodo and Sam as they march onwards to Mordor. Sam realizes that links and points of commonality exist between their own struggle against evil and that of Beren and others during the War of the Jewels in the First Age, and exclaims –

Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo, ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner. (Tolkien, Lord 712)

This oft-quoted bit of dialogue not only offers a meta-comment on storytelling, but also places the personal experiences of the protagonists in context of an epic historio-mythic narrative that stretches beyond the confines of the story they currently inhabit.

When examining the narrative of The Lord of the Rings it is important to analyze it not just on the basis of structure but also the thematic arrangement of certain tropes and archetypes within the plot. The Lord of the Rings, it can be argued, is at its very basic level a quest narrative. It is a trope that has been repeated throughout Tolkien’s mythopoeia – in the tale of Beren and Lúthien, in Bilbo’s quest to help the Dwarves reclaim their homeland and finally in Frodo’s journey to destroy the One Ring. It is interesting that the traditional quest narrative is reversed in The Lord of the Rings. The goal is not to seek but to destroy. The destruction of the One Ring is a means to the

129 ultimate goal of the quest; which is the defeat of the forces of darkness to which the Ring is tied. Unlike Bilbo’s relatively happy, coming-of-age quest, Frodo must undertake his journey bearing a burden – the One Ring. He must, so to speak, nurse the evil in order to protect it from falling into the wrong hands, and in doing so he has to take the risk of making himself vulnerable to the evil influence of the Ring. Gollum, in many ways an extension of the Ring, is another burden he must bear. In the Harry Potter series, which displays considerable influence of The Lord of the Rings’ plot and characters, the seventh book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows sees the protagonists engaged in a similar quest to destroy Voldemort’s horcruxes. One of these is a locket which Harry and his friends must wear and which exerts a similar evil influence as the One Ring. Such a narrative moves away from most medieval quest narratives that lay emphasis on acquisition rather than rejection. Tolkien’s modern sensibility informs this change as he recognizes that true happiness is acquired not by the possession of worldly goods but by the rejection of the temptation they offer. Northrop Frye writes about the various stages of a quest –

The complete form of the romance is clearly the successful quest, and such a completed form has three main stages: the stage of the perilous journey and the preliminary minor adventures; the crucial struggle, usually some kind of battle in which either the hero or his foe, or both, must die; and the exaltation of the hero. (187)

The Lord of the Rings fulfils all three of these stages. All the adventures and misadventures that Frodo has until the last leg of the journey when he finally climbs Mount Doom fall under the first stage. These experiences are vital to character development and shape and prepare him for the final confrontation – “the crucial struggle”. However it turns out that the Frodo’s final confrontation is not with Sauron but with his own self. The darkness and lust for power that the Ring emits finally engulfs Frodo at the moment of truth and he puts on the Ring. Though the darkness is connected intrinsically to Sauron, it also emerges from within the one who is attracted to it. Frodo’s greatest foe is not Sauron, but his own shadow self embodied through Gollum. The final struggle is therefore represented through the actual physical struggle for the possession of

130 the Ring between Frodo and Gollum. It ends when Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger, taking the Ring with it and falls into the fiery pits of Mount Doom, destroying both himself and the One Ring. Sauron is immediately destroyed with the destruction of the Ring, and though the foe that dies is at the obvious level is Sauron, the more important death is of the darkness inside Frodo. His shadow self is destroyed along with the source of the shadow, the Ring. In the process Frodo loses his finger, a scar he will bear forevermore. As a sacrificial hero, and at the end a fallen hero, it is a necessary sacrifice to regain the innocence that was lost. A remarkably similar situation can be seen at the end of the Harry Potter series when Harry sacrifices his life to kill the horcrux of Voldemort within himself and in doing so emerges free of the taint of Voldemort’s soul. The inscription on Harry’s parents’ graves is – “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death” (Rowling 268). It echoes the Biblical verse – “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Corinthians 15:26) and is the only instance of a direct Biblical reference in the series. Tolkien displays a similar sentiment about the theme of The Lord of the Rings. In a letter he wrote – “The tale is not really about Power and Dominion: that only sets the wheels going; it is about Death and the desire for deathlessness” (Letters 262). The interpretation of the Biblical verse is not that death is an actual enemy, but that it is an enemy only as long as it is feared and considered the end of things. Therefore the destruction of death as an enemy is essentially acceptance of it as a friend, and as a means to salvation and resurrection into a purer form. When Harry suspects the inscription of holding a darker meaning akin to Voldemort’s philosophies, Hermione reassures him – “It doesn’t mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry … It means ... you know ... living beyond death. Living after death” (Rowling 269). Life after death is a strong motif in The Lord of the Rings. As Gandalf passes through death and transforms into a better version of himself, so does Frodo experience a metaphorical death and emerges better at the other end. Therefore death does occur at the end of the quest – it is the death of darkness, both outside and inside Frodo. The third and final stage of the quest is the exaltation of the hero. After the destruction of Sauron there are celebrations on the Field of Cormallen where both Frodo and Sam are greatly honoured. Songs are sung in their praise and Aragorn, the king himself, bows before them and makes them sit upon his throne. This stage however is dealt with briefly by Tolkien, to make way for

131 another stage, which Northrop Frye identifies as the sixth phase or penseroso phase of romance –

In romance it marks the end of a movement from active to contemplative adventure. A central image of this phase … is that of the old man in the tower, the lonely hermit absorbed in occult or magical studies. On a more popular and social level it takes in what might be called cuddle fiction: the romance that is physically associated with comfortable beds or chairs around fireplaces or warm and cosy spots generally. (202)

The term penseroso translates to pensive or melancholy, which is exactly the state of mind Frodo finds himself in at the end of his adventures. He enjoys the comforts of domesticated life with Sam and his family for a time; however his ordeals during the trek to Mount Doom have taken a deep spiritual and physical toll on him. Ultimately he leaves the physical realm of Middle-earth and journeys to Valinor, a truly “contemplative adventure” as it is more an adventure of the soul than it is of the body.

The motif of the journey in Tolkien’s world is especially important. It signifies not just a physical transition but also a spiritual growth and transformation that parallels the progress through physical space and is deeply tied to the politics of place. Tolkien’s environmental ethic is steeped in nostalgia – a ‘looking back’ to what was and should be while struggling against the reality of what is. Humans tend to experience nostalgia not just for their own personal past but also the collective past of their ancestors. People who have lived all their lives in cities still romanticize the country life. The modern world with its technological advancements, though valued for its better living standards in terms of security and health, does not erase humanity’s desire to reclaim the oft forgotten joy of a life lived in communion with nature. We envy those who can still experience such lives and wait desperately for interludes from our daily lives in which we can recapture some measure of that natural utopian ideal. In literature, and especially quest narratives, the heroes experience this nostalgia as they venture far from home. Often the value of home, left behind due to a sense of adventure, is realized fully after a separation from it. It is as Northrop Frye describes – “The perennially childlike quality of romance is marked by its extraordinarily persistent nostalgia, its search for some kind of imaginative golden age in

132 time or space” (186). Nostalgia often accompanies a gradual loss of innocence along the journey. The journey is transcendentalist in nature as it initiates a movement from innocence to wisdom. The past is desirable, the present is chaotic, and the future springs from a combination both – the emergence of a consciousness that is grounded in the values of the past but has learned valuable lessons from the struggles of the present, and has acquired a wisdom and awareness that transcends both. The journeys of both Bilbo and Frodo in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings pluck them from the innocence of the Shire and make them confront the struggles of the wider world. This challenges their notions of their own personal moralities and makes them ultimately question their concept of what represents home. Though both the hobbits return to the comforts of the Shire at the end of their journeys, home for them has transformed. Though still beloved it does not satisfy the needs that come with a mind and heart that has endured evil. The final leg of their journey to Valinor is then like the Christian death that removes them from the cares of the world and delivers them to a paradise-like place. Both the Shire and Valinor then represent Eden. If Valinor is the Eden that awaits the end of the journey, the Shire is the initial Garden which Adam and Eve left for Earth. All the places in the journey – the realms of the mortal world, so to speak, offer different kinds of experiences and each place is suffused with its own particular character and politics with varying degrees of good and evil, worldliness and otherworldliness, as parts of its fabric. As discussed in earlier chapters, nature is for Tolkien the ultimate metaphor for good. It is the physical manifestation of the Divine Will. It is through the natural world that all the positive values of beauty, kindness, justice and order are expressed. Nature therefore becomes a supreme consciousness that is akin to godliness, which permeates all that exists within the world. The disruption of the delicate balance of nature produces chaos which affects not just the physical dimension but also the realm of morality. Good and evil are intertwined with the fate of the physical world. Carl Jung writes –

The collective unconscious is simply Nature — and since Nature contains everything it also contains the unknown. … So far as we can see, the collective unconscious is identical with Nature to the extent that Nature herself, including matter, is unknown to us. I have nothing against the assumption that the psyche is

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a quality of matter or matter the concrete aspect of the psyche, provided that “psyche” is defined as the collective unconscious. (Earth 82)

Jung’s idea of nature and psyche is removed from moral bias. It is an impartial existence that draws upon the collective unconscious. Tolkien employs a similar attitude towards nature and its relationship with the mind, but his conception of it is infused with a certain morality. His Christian values are reflected in his commitment to the dichotomy of good and evil. They are not arbitrary positions but distinct moral stances that decide their desirableness or undesirableness within the worldly order.

Nature, to Tolkien, is primarily green. A volcano may be as natural as a tree, but the absence of greenery makes it susceptible to evil, and to serve as its abode. Tolkien categorizes the land on the basis of how it commits itself to the protection and preservation of nature. The greatest threat to nature is seen inevitably as the abandonment of its values and instead a commitment to the influence of, what Tolkien calls, the Machine. In his letter to Milton Waldman Tolkien explains the intent of his mythopoeic creation –

Anyway all this stuff is mainly concerned with Fall, Mortality, and the Machine … By the last I intend all use of external plans or devices (apparatus) instead of development of the inherent inner powers or talents — or even the use of these talents with the corrupted motive of dominating: bulldozing the real world, or coercing other wills. (Letters 145)

In a letter to his son Christopher, written in early 1945, Tolkien had written rather ominously of the Second World War –

The first War of the Machines seems to be drawing to its final inconclusive chapter – leaving, alas, everyone the poorer, many bereaved or maimed and millions dead, and only one thing triumphant: the Machines. As the servants of the Machines are becoming a privileged class, the Machines are going to be enormously more powerful. What's their next move? (Letters 111)

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The collective anxiety of humanity has always been focused upon a loss of control or power. Machines, which represent an externalization of power, bring that anxiety to the forefront. There can be no doubt that humans have wrecked more destruction over the past century with the help of machines than they have done at any other time in history. An anti-machine or anti-technology stance is often accused to be backwards thinking. Indeed not acknowledging the overwhelming benefits that technology has brought in our lives is an erroneous belief, but the fear of machines cannot be dismissed as simple paranoia. Before his death, physicists Stephen Hawking repeatedly warned humanity about the unchecked development of artificial intelligence. The development of an intelligence that operates solely upon logic and is not programmed with a basic ethical code has been considered to have disastrous consequences for the fate of humanity. Numerous books and movies have such as The Matrix and The Terminator series have explored this possibility. If Tolkien had been a science fiction writer writing in present times, Sauron may have controlled an army of mindless drones instead of the orcs and other creatures. There is a mindlessness to the followers of evil. Unlike the good side which operates with a system of allies, the orcs work as a mob, their wills completely bent to their overlords – they are in fact like cogs in the Machine. In a report published in October 2018 by the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), scientists have given the world twelve years until climate change becomes irreversible if things continue to function the way they have been. It can be argued that the greatest machine that threatens us today is the machine of capitalism which ignores sustainability and is concentrated solely on profit. It is a system which begun with industrialization in the Western world, the consequences of which were far-reaching and have become increasingly manifest today. In this sense Tolkien can be seen as one of the pioneers of the environmental debate in literature.

Tolkien is, however, not completely opposed to technology. The Shire which is a bucolic, pastoral environment relies upon technology for its basic functionality. Hobbits are farmers –

Good tilled earth: a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside was their favourite haunt … They do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated

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than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a hand-loom, though they were skilful with tools. (Tolkien, Lord 1)

Technology that works in tandem with sustainable development and is used to nurture nature, not destroy it, is therefore desirable. In The Hobbit our understanding of the Shire comes mainly from Bilbo’s immediate environment and his place within it. In The Lord of the Rings, the Shire is more fully explored and its history and culture described in greater detail. Tolkien spent some of his early formative years in the village of Sarehole in England, the environs of which would greatly influence his later conception of the Shire. Tolkien, who likened himself in temperament and style of living to Hobbits, no doubt chose for their home a place similar to one which he himself considered to be his true home. In a letter to Deborah Webster, he declared that he lived in his “early years in ‘the Shire’ in a premechanical age” (Tolkien, Letters 288). Tolkien, though for a time sheltered from the outside world, was not unaware of it. Before moving to Sarehole, the family lived for a time in Birmingham and later after serving in the First World War moved to Leeds, both industrial towns. The contrast no doubt provided material for the varying moral and physical landscape of Middle-earth. Like Sarehole proved to be a pocket of pastoral beauty amidst a world experiencing rapid industrialization, the Shire too is an isolated pocket in a world that does not share its values. Throughout their journey through the lands of Middle-earth, the protagonists come across lands that are microcosms representing environmental values. These places serve as resting places on the journey and provide respite and comfort from the otherwise hardship-ridden landscape. Nature as a restorative is an important theme in environmental studies. Stephen Kaplan in his article, ‘The Restorative Benefits of Nature: Toward an Integrative Framework’, observes that – “Natural settings are often the preferred destinations for extended restorative opportunities. The seaside, the mountains, lakes, streams, forests, and meadows are all idyllic places for ‘getting away’” (174). ‘Getting away’ in Tolkien’s narratives implies not a getting away from the mundane affairs of the world, but an escape from the darkness that threatens to engulf the protagonists as they venture forth on their journeys.

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At the level of myth nature has been one of the most potent symbols of divinity. Humans have ascribed values to nature that elevate is beyond the realm of the material world. It is what bridges mortal life to the level of the divine and loyalty towards nature helps to confront the persistent fear of death that humans experience in their lives. The myth of divine nature, as Simon Schama writes –

Goes directy to the heart of one of our most powerful yearnings: the craving to find in nature a consolation for our mortality. It is why groves of trees, with their annual promise of spring awakening, are thought to be a fitting decor for our earthly remains. So the mystery behind this commonplace turns out to be eloquent on the deepest relationships between natural form and human design. (15)

The first of the restorative places encountered by the hobbits is the home of Tom Bombadil. Bombadil has always been something of a mystery to readers. Tolkien himself affirmed his introduction into the narrative as an enigma. He is someone or something that cannot be fully defined or understood, nor is he meant to be. He is at once merry and awe-inspiring. When the hobbits meet him, it is his voice that is first heard singing a merry ditty before he appears. He is the only living creature who is completely unaffected by the power of the Ring, a fact which has lead to speculation that he might even be Eru Ilúvatar, or a manifestation of him. Tolkien describes him as –

A particular embodying of pure (real) natural science: the spirit that desires knowledge of other things, their history and nature, because they are ‘other’ and wholly independent of the enquiring mind, a spirit coeval with the rational mind, and entirely unconcerned with ‘doing’ anything with the knowledge. (Letters 192)

Best described perhaps as a primordial nature spirit, he lives with his wife Goldberry. There is something quite surreal and dream-like about their existence and their home, as if it was removed from the spheres of the material world. There the hobbits, who are still inexperienced and suddenly thrust into the world, get some much-needed comfort and reassurance after their pursuit by the Nazgûl. Bombadil is the caretaker of the natural world he lives in. He is one of several characters in Tolkien’s legendarium who act as guardians of nature, and therefore his home proves to be the ideal refuge. More tales

137 about Bombadil’s life can be found in two additional poems written by Tolkien – ‘The Adventures of Tom Bombadil’ and ‘Bombadil Goes Boating’, which appear in his collection of poetry The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and Other Verses from the Red Book.

The Elven realms of Rivendell and Lothlórien are also instrumental in providing comfort and rest. Dickerson and Evans write –

Gardens that grow and are “glad” make glad the hearts of those who perceive their beauty, and gladness of heart is part of the overall freedom from oppression that the surviving Elves of Middle-earth—at Lothlórien and Rivendell—strive to protect. (101)

This commitment to gladness is what makes green spaces so important in Tolkien’s legendarium. When all creatures exist in a state of harmony it creates a universe that is ordered and makes it difficult for evil to intervene and create chaos. In The Hobbit, the Necromancer (who is later revealed to be Sauron) enters and resides in Greenwood and perverts it making it known as Mirkwood. Green places are therefore vulnerable to harm and must be guarded, a task which the Elves religiously take upon themselves. Rivendell, described as “the Last Homely Home east of the sea…a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all” (Tolkien, Lord 225), occupies a very important position in the course of the journey. It is in a sense the mission headquarters. It is here that the Fellowship assembles and the decision to take the Ring to Mount Doom is made. Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, is together with Gandalf and Galadriel a guardian of freedom and harmony in Middle-earth. Of all the Elvish realms in Tolkien’s works Lothlórien is described in the greatest detail. It is quite literally a kingdom of trees, its inhabitants called the Galadhrim (tree people) and its chief place of dwelling called Caras Galadhon (city of the trees). The expression of Tolkien’s love of trees, which can be traced back to the very seeds of his legendarium with the myth of the Two Trees, becomes apparent in his description of Lothlórien. Approaching Lothlórien, Legolas exclaims with joy –

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There lie the woods of Lothlórien! ... That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. (Tolkien, Lord 335)

This is one of the many passages in the book that describe the beauty of Lothlórien in great detail. All who have seen it or desire to see it wax poetic about its beauty, both physical and spiritual. It is the home of the beautiful Mallorn trees, brought from Valinor and planted in Lothlórien, which have golden flowers and whose leaves also turn golden in autumn; giving Lothlórien the name of Golden Wood. As the Fellowship goes further into Lothlórien, Frodo ruminates –

It seemed to him that he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of the Elder Days, and was, now walking in a world that was no more. In Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lórien the ancient things still lived on in the waking world. (Tolkien, Lord 349)

Lothlórien is therefore not just a beautiful place but also provides a glimpse of the divine beauty of the Elder days, a spiritual beauty that is a glimpse of the Undying Lands. The Elves, like the hobbits, also experience nostalgia. However theirs is a generational, one can say almost genetic, nostalgia that is part of the fabric of their very being as the Sundering of the Elves is still in process. Lothlórien is crucial in providing comfort to the Fellowship after the apparent death of Gandalf in the mines of Moria. The loss of their mentor and guide strikes them particularly hard and it is only with the counsel of Galadriel that their confidence is restored and they muster themselves for the quest again. Together the realms of Rivendell and Lothlórien provide comfort and preservation of nature, but also act as underground resistance bases. Both are in some manner hidden from the world in order to safeguard them, and both take upon the responsibility of keeping the tide of evil at bay. Dickerson and Evans write –

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Rivendell and Lothlórien exist in order to restrain—and ultimately defeat— Sauron’s evil, fulfilling the Elves’ purpose in the moral dimension. But in light of the fact that the dominion of evil under Sauron and, by extension, Saruman marks the ruination of much that is beautiful in the environment, the Elves’ mission is also discharged through their creation and preservation of natural beauty. (113)

Nature then is not just a restorative but a major tool of resistance. Since nature is inherently Divine in Tolkien’s myth, those who are allied with it become representatives of the Divine and their mission takes on Divine proportions.

One of the most interesting relationships between dwelling and inhabitant is how they both mirror each other. The Elves are noble and beautiful and therefore so are their cities. The cities of Men are fundamentally different from the cities of Elves. They lie on a liminal boundary between good and evil. Much like the natures of the Men that inhabit it, they have the capacity for both. Since Men in Tolkien’s legendarium are intrinsically vulnerable to temptation through greed and ambition, their spaces are also constantly in a state of danger. They are the first places to be attacked and conquered by the forces of evil. Edoras in Rohan has been infiltrated by Grima Wormtongue, an agent of Saruman, who has poisoned the mind of King Theoden. Minas Tirith in Gondor, which is in the vicinity of Sauron’s stronghold at Mordor, is constantly under threat and ruled by a capricious Steward. Unlike the Elvish abodes, they provide no shelter; but in turn must be rescued from their own internal political strife before they can join the fight against Sauron. The beginning narration of The Fellowship of the Ring film spoken by Galadriel includes the line – “The hearts of men are easily corrupted” (Jackson). Men are rather strange creatures in the greater Middle-earth community. Unlike most other races which lean definitively towards a specific character type, Men are multi-dimensional and unpredictable. They are the only ones among the Free People who fight on both sides of the War of the Ring. They can be as pathetic and despicable as Grima Wormtongue or as noble as Aragorn. They are the ones who are drawn to the Ring the most, because power is their greatest weakness. Their cities are presented mostly as places of power and politics. The text does not show any sense of community within their walls similar to the community of the Shire. The difference is between the urban and the rural, with people

140 living in urban communities getting caught up in the affairs of the ruling class. That is not to say that the spaces of Men are not beautiful. The Golden Hall of Meduseld in Edoras, the fortress of Helm’s Deep, the White City of Minas Tirith, all display a medieval chivalric beauty. The White Tree of Gondor which stands in the Court of the Fountain at Minas Tirith is a dried up and dead, and symbolizes the degradation of Gondorian society after the line of kings was broken. The major battles in The Lord of the Rings take place in and around the cities of Men. The fight for the control of Middle-earth therefore rests essentially upon the control of the spaces that Men inhabit – the ultimate victory therefore indicating that Men would become the inheritors of Middle-earth.

In ‘Walking’, Henry David Thoreau writes –

Life consists with wildness. The most alive is the wildest. Not yet subdued to man, its presence refreshes him. One who pressed forward incessantly and never rested from his labors, who grew fast and made infinite demands on life, would always find himself in a new country or wilderness, and surrounded by the raw material of life. He would be climbing over the prostrate stems of primitive forest- trees. (665-666)

The wilderness is a powerful symbol that evokes the very essence of what Thoreau calls the “raw material of life”. The image of the primeval forest with its impenetrable canopy of leaves, its labyrinthine network of trees, both its silence and its sounds, represents a deep mystery that is at once dangerous and fascinating. The allure of the forest is of both adventure and enlightenment. Most of the lands that we inhabit now were all once covered with forests in primordial times. With the advent of human beings and civilizations they gave way to agricultural and urban spaces. Deforestation is a major challenge that the world faces today. The temporal landscape of Middle-earth mirrors that of our Earth in the real world and changes over time. While kingdoms rise and fall; the most profound change can be witnessed upon the land. Since Tolkien’s mythopoeia is the feigned history of our own world its landscape must also catch up to ours through the narrative. From the creation of Arda to the end of the Third Age the very shape of the land has been transformed. The forest cover has also been significantly reduced. During

141 the Council of Elrond, Elrond reminisces about an earlier time when the Shire did not exist –

Of the Old Forest many tales have been told; all that now remains is but an outlier of its northern march. Time was when a squirrel could go from tree to tree from what is now the Shire to Dunland west of Isengard. In those lands I journeyed once, and many things wild and strange I knew. (Tolkien, Lord 265)

Much of the wild lands had by the Third Age been tamed by people – both hobbits and Men. What was once arboreal, was now pastoral. The Old Forest that the hobbits pass through on their way to Rivendell and Fangorn Forest where Marry and Pippin meet Treebeard belong to this realm of the “wild and strange”.

Nature in Tolkien’s works is not a monolith. It takes on many forms and degrees of wildness. In the Shire it has been tamed and become agricultural, and under the stewardship of Elves it retains its original form of the forest but is also tame to a certain degree having been tended to and cared for. A third aspect of nature is the untamed wilderness of the Old Forest and Fangorn. These are wildernesses seething with anger because they have been wronged. What is interesting is that both these forests have guardians –Tom Bombadil and Treebeard – who are in ways extensions of the forest and spirit-like, and both display a disinterest in the affairs of the wider world. Treebeard declares to Merry and Pippin – “I am not altogether on anybody’s side, because nobody is altogether on my side … nobody cares for the woods as I care for them” (Tolkien, Lord 472). The Old Forest and Fangorn represent nature that has been abused and forgotten in the grand scheme of things. The Old Forest especially displays an anger that has made its trees dangerous to passersby. It is because it lies on the periphery of the pastoral habitation of hobbits and has been over the years gradually cut down to make way for towns and agricultural lands. Therefore wilderness when confronted with civilization gets eroded, its boundaries contracting, making way for an artificial landscape. Through the mode of fantasy, Tolkien translates this loss into an animistic expression of anger. Kay Milton writes about the fluidity of the natural world and the effects of the ill-treatment of it upon human life –

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Trees can confer life on human beings, through their medicinal powers, and wealth, but can also bring death if not treated properly. Trees and rocks are known to move around. In fact everything in the bush moves; the villages are the only fixed points in a fluid landscape. (120)

As urban and rural landscapes expand, the wilderness is fenced in and surrounded by those who threaten to overrun it eventually. The aggression and malice in the Old Forest is in fact a defence mechanism. Even hobbits, who live in greater communion with nature than communities of Men pose a threat to the wilderness. In the Old Forest, Old Man Willow, a great willow tree embittered by the memory of centuries of abuse and wary of humanoid beings; traps the Hobbits within its roots. He belongs possibly to a category of trees called Huorns, also found in Fangorn, who are sentient and can move and communicate with Ents. Within the context of the quest narrative such an incident serves as an episode which provides a challenge to the protagonists of the story. Yi-Fu Tuan writes –

Children who survive the forest and come out into a sunlit land become adults. The forest in fairy tales may thus be seen as a trial that children must go through. Reassuringly, they don’t have to do so alone, for they often encounter a friendly giant and guide. (70)

Both Tom Bombadil and Treebeard fulfill the role of the guide through the forest, but they are as much on the side of the forest as of those who struggle to travel through it. It is because they understand trees and therefore speak the language of nature itself. Dickerson and Evans note that –

In the character of Treebeard, Tolkien ties together his profound love of language and one of the novel’s most important advocates for wilderness preservation. Treebeard speaks on behalf of the trees and forests of Middle-earth, indicating the value of wilderness. More particularly, the Ents serve both as an incarnation—or inarboration—of the vegetative life of that world and as sentient stewards of the untamed sylvan domain that is their province. (129)

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The Ents speak a language that is deliberate and long-winded. It represents the antiquity and endurance of the forest itself. The forest exists in a temporal reality that moves at a different pace than the rest of civilization. While the world around changes and transforms; the forest, or what is left of it, remains the same as it was many millennia ago when it first came to life.

The Ents were created by Eru Ilúvatar at the insistence of the Valier Yavanna to counter Aulë’s creation of Dwarves. The Dwarves in their earthly nature and penchant for mining represent exploitation of the natural world which, as seen at Erebor in The Hobbit and in their activities in the mines of Moria, often gets out of hand. Yavanna fearing their effect upon the natural world, especially trees which would be felled for raw material, wishes “that the trees might speak on behalf of all things that have roots, and punish those that wrong them!” (Tolkien, Silmarillion 40) Her prayers are answered when Eru decides that –

When the Children awake, then the thought of Yavanna will awake also, and it will summon spirits from afar, and they will go among the kelvar and the olvar, and some will dwell therein, and be held in reverence, and their just anger shall be feared. (Tolkien, Silmarillion 41)

The Ents are therefore spirits that inhabit tree-like forms and act as Shepherds of the Forest, guarding it from predators and nursing a deep anger at its abuse. This anger would, in The Lord of the Rings, culminate in the sacking of Isengard by the Ents – an event which significantly affects the War of the Ring. As Lynn White Jr. observes in his article ‘The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis’ –

In Antiquity every tree, every spring, every stream, every hill had its own genius loci, its guardian spirit. These spirits were accessible to men, but were very unlike men; centaurs, fauns, and mermaids show their ambivalence. Before one cut a tree, mined a mountain, or dammed a brook, it was important to placate the spirit in charge of that particular situation, and to keep it placated. (1205)

The orcs under the direction of Saruman did all of the aforementioned – cut, mined and dammed without any consideration for the forest or the Ents, thereby incurring their

144 wrath. The Ents belong to a trope in folkloric and fantasy tradition – that of the talking or animated tree. They are an anthropomorphic representation of various traits. Druids in Celtic mythology often enchanted trees to become an army. The Welsh poem Cad Goddeau or The Battle of the Trees exhibits this tradition. Frank L. Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz has a Forest of Fighting Trees. There are representations of this trope in more recent works as well, such as the titular tree in Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, the Whomping Willow in the Harry Potter series and Grandmother Willow in the Disney film Pocahontas. The last two in particular, display the influence of Tolkien’s works. In a letter to Auden Tolkien writes of his conception of Ents –

Ents are composed of philology, literature, and life. They owe their name to the eald enta geweorc of Anglo-Saxon, and their connexion with stone. Their part in the story is due, I think, to my bitter disappointment and disgust from schooldays with the shabby use made in Shakespeare of the coming of 'Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill': I longed to devise a setting in which the trees might really march to war. (Letters 212)

The Great March of the Ents towards Isengard is indeed reminiscent of the climactic battle in Macbeth, except it is not just incidental to the plot but also acts as a symbol of an active approach towards environmental conservation. It illustrates reclamation of the landscape by the forces of nature. An interesting and tragic aspect of the myth of Ents in Tolkien is the story of the Entwives. During the Third Age no young Ents or Entings exist because the Entwives have disappeared long ago. Tolkien speculates that, “I think that in fact the Entwives had disappeared for good, being destroyed with their gardens in the War of the Last Alliance … They survived only in the 'agriculture' transmitted to Men (and Hobbits)” (Letters 179). As the Ents are arboreal in nature and appearance, so were the Entwives pastoral and their forms resembled agricultural and horticultural plants, “bent and browned by their labour; their hair parched by the sun to the hue of ripe corn and their cheeks like red apples” (Tolkien, Lord 476). The difference between the Ents and the Entwives is explained by Tolkien as “the difference of the 'male' and 'female' attitude to wild things, the difference between unpossessive love and gardening” (Letters 212). Tolkien employs a traditional view of masculinity and femininity by ascribing to

145 the Entwives a more nurturing and practical role in their relationship with nature, similar to motherhood. The longing and search of the Ents for the Entwives symbolizes the discord in the natural world brought about by the forces of evil, which has caused the very race of Ents to end by taking away from them their ability to reproduce. This longing is described in a poem sung by Treebeard to Merry and Pippin narrating in dialogic form the parting between the Ents and Entwives. It is replete with nature imagery and is soulful and melancholic in tone. Ents, and Treebeard in particular, are the most potent metaphors of Tolkien’s environmental ethic and his love of trees.

Ents belong to a category of characters that recurs in Tolkien’s mythopoeia – those who dedicates themselves to the guardianship of the physical environment. It is a role which is centred both in a personal relationship with the immediate environment and with a mindfulness of the affairs of the wider natural world. Dickerson and Evans in their book Ents, Elves and Eriador liken this to the concept of Christian Stewardship. They specify that it is a kind of stewardship that does not abuse authority or dominate but focuses upon management and care. Some races like the Elves and Ents are wholly dedicated to the care of the environment by their very nature. There are also individual characters in the legendarium that assume this role. Gandalf in particular can be considered the most important steward figure. His stewardship is both political and environmental. He involves himself with the political affairs of the various races of Middle-earth and by virtue of this involvement he is also directly concerned with the environment they inhabit. Gandalf is a Maia, a kind of angelic being in service to the Valar. He is sent to Middle-earth as an Istari or wizard, one of five sent to aid the Children of Ilúvatar. The other Istari are Saruman, and two unnamed Blue Wizards. Addressing Denethor, whose stewardship is morally and politically corrupt, Gandalf speaks of his own role in Middle-earth –

All worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, … if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. (Tolkien, Lord 758)

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Gandalf’s guidance in winning the War of the Ring is crucial. Like Treebeard speaks for trees, he speaks for the entire natural world of Middle-earth. When he dies while battling the Balrog in Moria, he is brought back by the Valar as he has not yet fully served his purpose, emphasizing his importance in the narrative. He is transformed from Gandalf the Grey to Gandalf the White, replacing Saruman as the leader of the Istari. Gandalf’s return accompanies an evolution of his character from the itinerant, eccentric wizard of The Hobbit and the early chapters of The Lord of the Rings; to an authoritative figure who takes a more active part in the affairs of the world. Gandalf’s role in shaping the events of The Lord of the Rings and in doing so effectively saving the natural world of Middle- earth, signify the importance of affirmative action in environmental conservation. It constitutes a ‘stepping-up’ of individuals to the responsibility of protecting nature. Characters Like Beorn, Tom Bombadil and Treebeard, all embody this concept of stewardship. Galadriel, whose character will be discussed in greater detail later in this chapter, is also a steward figure. Together with Elrond, she guards the realms of Elves and preserves their natural beauty. She also provides counsel and comfort to the Fellowship; giving gifts to each member which would prove, in Frodo’s case especially, very useful to their quest. In Sam, Galadriel recognizes perhaps a kindred soul. Referring to him as “little gardener and lover of trees” (Tolkien, Lord 357), she gives to him a box containing a seed and earth from her own orchard. After the Scouring of the Shire, when its natural environment has been destroyed, Sam uses this gift to reinvigorate the Shire and restore it to its former beauty. Sam’s role within the narrative is also that of a guardian. He is the most loyal and trusted ally of Frodo and his only constant companion throughout the journey to Mount Doom. That Tolkien chose for Sam the profession of a gardener is no coincidence. As a gardener his natural ability to nurture and protect becomes instrumental in helping Frodo to complete his quest. He cares for Frodo the way he cares for his plants. He displays an unshakable faith in Frodo and a remarkably undistracted focus on his wellbeing. John Elder in the Foreword to Ents, Elves and Eriador summarizes Dickerson and Evans ideas about stewardship in Tolkien’s works –

For Sam—as for Frodo, Gandalf, and the other companions—stewardship is a matter of faithful and discerning action on behalf of a beloved landscape and

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community … and it dedicates itself not only to one country of the heart but also to the health and harmony of all beautiful places. (xii)

The quest of the Fellowship, aided by various allies throughout the journey, aims not only to resolve the political turmoil of good and evil in Middle-earth, but also to safeguard Middle-earth itself from the destruction that evil threatens to unleash upon it. Tolkien ties the principles of the quest to the principles of conservation, intertwining the political with the environmental. Such an attitude mirrors the current relationship between politics and environmental issues, with many global leaders denying the scientific consensus about climate change. As the Earth is threatened by irreversible environmental damage, it has become important to adopt a methodology of protection and conservation akin to Tolkien’s environmental philosophy of individual and community-based affirmative action, which is embedded in his narratives.

The spaces in Middle-earth that are the domain of nature and which are inhabited by people committed to preserving nature, stand in contrast with those spaces that have been stripped of all natural beauty and are inhabited by those who have no regard for the natural world or those who do not fully appreciate its benefits. These represent, within the context of Tolkien’s environmental ethic, a kind of anti-space that violates the basic principles of nature that keep order in the natural world. Tolkien’s expression of the dichotomy of good and evil through its effects upon the land can be traced from the creation myths of his legendarium. Melkor’s discordant music affected the Vision of Arda and had physical implications upon the shape and form of the land. Tolkien’s association of good with nature and evil with a lack of and destruction of it derives from the experiences of his own life. He witnessed the abject destruction at the World Wars caused on the landscapes that became battlefields. He was also keenly aware of the plunder of the natural world by the activities of industrialization and mechanization. In The Lord of the Rings these characteristics can be observed in the spaces that are occupied by evil forces. These spaces are bad not only because they have become centres of evil activity but also because they have eschewed the beauty of a natural environment. Northrop Frye writes –

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The inorganic world may remain in its unworked form of deserts, rocks, and waste land. Cities of destruction and dreadful night belong here, and the great ruins of pride, from the tower of Babel to the mighty works of Ozymandias. Images of perverted work belong here too: engines of torture, weapons of war, armor, and images of a dead mechanism which, because it does not humanize nature, is unnatural as well as inhuman. (150)

The perversion of nature then becomes a symptom of evil. The Shire, which existed as a pastoral utopia, experiences an upheaval when a defeated Saruman, calling himself Sharkey, infiltrates it. The most devastating effect is upon its greenery. The Party Tree is cut down, crops are destroyed and “the trees were the worst loss and damage, for at Sharkey’s bidding they had been cut down recklessly far and wide over the Shire” (Tolkien, Lord 1022). When the Hobbits defeat Saruman once and for all, free the Shire and replant it, they are drawing upon the new-found wisdom and confidence gained on their quest and reclaiming their land not just for its inhabitants but also for nature.

Saruman’s descent into evil, from his origin as the wise head of the Istari to a morally corrupt and power-hungry overlord is especially important when considering the ecological impact of his activities. Saruman manages to overpower the natural order of both the Shire and his own home of Isengard within a short period of time. The destruction of Isengard by the orcs and its conversion from a green place to a factory producing weapons of war is the most important parallel of industrialization that Tolkien creates in The Lord of the Rings. Gandalf describes this transformation –

I looked on it and saw that, whereas it had once been green and fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in Isengard, for Saruman was mustering a great force … Over all his works a dark smoke hung and wrapped itself about the sides of Orthanc. (Tolkien, Lord 260)

During the period of the Industrial Revolution smoke became a regular feature of cities and industrial centres in the UK. Respiratory diseases and other health complications became common in the populace. This was before the time that humanity became conscious of the dangers that industrial waste poses to health and the environment. David

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Stradling and Peter Thorsheim in their article, ‘The Smoke of Great Cities: British and American Efforts to Control Air Pollution 1860-1914’, write –

Coal smoke plagued Great Britain and the United States for well over one hundred years. Cities that relied on soft coal for fuel … suffered through decades of dense air pollution before relief could be found … Smoke became symbolic of disorder and decline … Smoke symbolized greed and callousness, the sacrifice of beauty and health in the pursuit of profit. (6)

Tolkien, a lover of rural serenity and open spaces, was no doubt horrified with this spectacle. Smoke became in his mythopoeia an enduring image of evil – it permeated evil spaces and accompanied the machinery of evil activities. What is worse is that in Isengard the smoke was produced by the burning of trees. As Treebeard tells Merry and Pippin – “Down on the borders they are felling trees, good trees. Some of the trees they just cut down and leave to rot, orc mischief that; but most are hewn up and carried off to feed the fires of Orthanc. There is always a smoke rising from Isengard these days” (Tolkien, Lord 474). Saruman’s image as an industrial overlord, corrupted by the thirst for power is summarized in the words of Treebeard – “He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment” (Tolkien, Lord 473). The pain of the Ents when they talk about the destruction of the trees in their guardianship is tragic and moving. Their pain is the deep, evocative pain of nature itself. Treebeard, roused to anger and despair, mourns his loss –

Many of those trees were my friends creatures I had known from nut and acorn; many had voices of their own that are lost for ever now. And there are wastes of stump and bramble where once there were singing groves. (Tolkien, Lord 474)

Another Ent, Bregalad sadly relates that, “Then Orcs came with axes and cut down my trees. I came and called them by their long names, but they did not quiver, they did not hear or answer, they lay dead” (Tolkien, Lord 483). The image of dead stumps where once there were forests is one of the most powerful images that symbolize the effects of deforestation. The industrial wasteland of Isengard is finally reclaimed when the Ents march upon it and destroy its doors and walls. They break the dam on the river Isen and

150 flood the pits of Isengard which produce weapons, thereby destroying the base of Saruman’s war machine. The imagery of the Battle of Isengard in The Lord of the Rings is especially rousing. It is quite literally the victory of personifications of nature against the forces of industrialization. Isengard is later brought under the guardianship of Ents who replant it and rename it Treegarth of Orthanc.

The darkest of all places in Middle-earth in the Third Age is undoubtedly Mordor, the stronghold of Sauron. It is called the Land of Shadow. As light is the province of good, shadow belongs to the realm of evil. The principle in Tolkien’s writings; of places and inhabitants mirroring each other, taking on the qualities of each other and essentially becoming extensions of each other; is applicable especially to Sauron and Mordor. Since Sauron is bereft of all that is good, his kingdom is essentially a wasteland. The topography of Mordor is in direct contrast with that of the Shire. Where the Shire is composed of rolling hills and green fields, Mordor is harsh, rocky and barren. It is enclosed by mountains on three sides, and the approach to it is through a treacherous marshland. As Frodo and Sam move closer to Mordor, their journey becomes more difficult and their challenges more horrific, and the land gradually becomes completely void of any sign of greenery –

Here nothing lived, not even the leprous growths that feed on rottenness. The gasping pools were choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about. High mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire blasted and poison stained, stood like an obscene graveyard in endless rows, slowly revealed in the reluctant light. (Tolkien, Lord 631)

Tolkien displays as much wealth of detail in describing the imagery of his dark places, as he does when describing scenes of his beloved nature. Tolkien adopted some of these images from his experiences during the First World War. In an interview in 1968 he said, “I remember miles and miles of seething, tortured earth, perhaps best described in the chapters about the approaches to Mordor. It was a searing experience” (qtd. in Birzer 2- 3). The image of Mordor is very similar to the lands that are ravaged by war in the real world. Dickerson and Evans, drawing this parallel, write–

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Tolkien draws from the imagery of war, industrialization, and urbanism, which in our world seem to run roughshod and rampant over the landscape as pasture, farmland, and undisturbed wilderness retreat as before an advancing enemy. The “high mounds of crushed and powdered rock” of Mordor remind us of the mountains of tailings and mining wastes that trouble our own environment. The ground in Mordor is not only “fire-blasted,” as with bombs, but also “poisonstained,” as when factories’ toxic refuse contaminates the earth, the water, and the air. (187)

The description of the tower of Barad-dûr, the fortress of Sauron from where he looks upon his lands, is very striking. It first appears to Frodo when he wears the Ring to escape from Boromir and begins to experience visions –

Darkness lay there under the Sun. Fire glowed amid the smoke. Mount Doom was burning, and a great reek rising. Then at last his gaze was held; wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black, immeasurably strong, mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant, he saw it; Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. (Tolkien, Lord 401)

Mordor also contains the pass of Cirith Ungol, where in a network of tunnels is the lair of the spider Shelob. Shelob is a child of Ungoliant, who at the behest of Melkor destroyed the Two Trees of Valinor. Frodo and Sam are tricked by Gollum into entering her dark labyrinthine dwelling. Northrop Frye writes that the “image of the dark winding labyrinth for the monster's belly is a natural one, and one that frequently appears in heroic quests” (190). This darkness can only be countered by the light from the Phial of Galadriel, given as a gift to Frodo by her, which contains the light of the Two Trees and has the power to ward off Shelob. It becomes for Frodo as Galadriel predicted “a light … in dark places, when all other lights go out” (Tolkien, Lord 376). Mordor is a land so entrenched in evil that it seems almost irredeemable – a “lasting monument…a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing” (Tolkien, Lord 631-632).

Not all dark places in Middle-earth are equally evil. The land itself is not evil but made evil by those who affect it. Mordor which existed since primordial times, created by

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Chapter 5

Conclusion

Chapter 5

Conclusion

In 1957 Caroline Whitman Everett wrote to Tolkien asking for biographical details that would help her in writing her M.A. thesis upon his works. Tolkien begins his reply to her; writing – “Though it is a great compliment, I am really rather sorry to find myself the subject of a thesis” (Letters 257). I discovered this statement of mild disapproval while going through Tolkien’s letters in the early days of my research and was struck by how I experienced a similar feeling in making Tolkien the subject of my thesis. Not that I was actually sorry, but rather apprehensive in attempting to view through the lens of a critic a writer whom I almost religiously admired. Some of the allure of fiction, especially speculative fiction, gets inevitably deconstructed and stripped of its glamour when it is subject to scholarly research; cross-examined and dissected. While this leads to the discovery of new vistas of meaning within the text, the initial ‘innocent’ reading cannot be recaptured. This is especially true of books that have been beloved in childhood and have a strong association with the memories and experiences of childhood. For example, the works of Enid Blyton, a great childhood favourite of mine, have become almost unreadable to me in adulthood after I became conscious of the sexism and xenophobia contained within them. It is possible of course to still enjoy a work while acknowledging what one finds unpleasant in it, but it becomes almost impossible to do away with a niggling sense of wrong and retain the initial wonder.

Many works of art are diminished by their re-examination through our evolving moral values. This, however, has fortunately not been the case with Tolkien’s works, in my opinion. While I believe that some elements of his writings; such as his treatment of race and gender, require critical re-evaluation, as a whole Tolkien has proved to be one of those writers whose works only grow in value as they are studied in depth and detail. A testament to this is the vast amount of Tolkien scholarship and research that has been conducted over the years. Everett, in her thesis titled The Imaginative Fiction of J.R.R. Tolkien writes –

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Since the commencement of the paper, it has become a labor of love, for, in the discovery of buried facts about a little publicized but seemingly outstanding master of the narrative art, the writer has had the feeling of being in the vanguard of those arriving at the scene of the unearthing of a rich vein of gold. (1)

Everett’s intuition served her well. Tolkien has indeed become a subject of immense interest to a growing number of critics and an even greater legion of fans. Though professional criticism is still somewhat less compared to many other contemporaries of Tolkien in literary canon, the amateur critics of his works in the form of fans and diehard enthusiasts who continue to debate, dissect and critique his writings online in forums and fan sites, all but make up for any deficiency in mainstream scholarship. Tolkien, in many ways, is a gift that keeps on giving. Not only does his son Christopher continue to release new material from his father’s unpublished writings (the latest The Fall of Gondolin was published just last year in August 2018), but also his works have found a place in other media with three animated and six live-action films being made to date, and a TV series adaptation currently in the making. Christopher Tolkien, who is famously opposed to the film treatment of Tolkien, said in an interview published in the French newspaper Le Monde on 9th July, 2012 –

Tolkien has become a monster, devoured by his own popularity and absorbed into the absurdity of our time. The chasm between the beauty and seriousness of the work, and what it has become, has overwhelmed me. The commercialization has reduced the aesthetic and philosophical impact of the creation to nothing. There is only one solution for me: to turn my head away. (Tolkien, “My Fathers”)

In some ways Christopher is echoing his father’s views, who on reviewing a screenplay presented to him for a proposed film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, wrote –

I would ask them to make an effort of imagination sufficient to understand the irritation (and on occasion the resentment) of an author, who finds, increasingly as he proceeds, his work treated as it would seem carelessly in general, in places recklessly, and with no evident signs of any appreciation of what it is all about. (Tolkien, Letters 270)

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It is therefore probable that if Tolkien were alive today he would express a similar irritation towards the films as his son has, since he greatly valued the philosophical core of his writings much of which has been if not erased but diminished in the action-packed film adaptations. However if Tolkien has become a “monster” on screen, it is one that most of his fans readily embrace. Unlike Christopher, we simply cannot turn our heads away. That is because the films, even if they are considered by some a mutilation of the original, display the magical world of Tolkien; the beauty of which shines through the many changes and alterations.

The appeal of Tolkien’s works is such that it transcends the transformation in attitudes and trends of the world and continues to attract fans in every new generation. In my opinion the secret of this lies in the universality of his themes. In my thesis I have explored primarily the mythical and historical nature of Tolkien’s works, along with an ecocritical study of them. However in spite of the particular nature of the style and narrative, I have throughout been conscious of the fact that unlike most historical and mythological treatises there is something endearingly familiar in the texture of Tolkien’s writings. His works draw the reader inside the world contained within the books. Middle- earth becomes a living, breathing space that occupies our libraries and bedrooms. Though Tolkien has often been excluded from serious scholarship and the literariness of his work questioned, especially by his contemporaries, however even those who do not hold his writings in the same estimation as the classics of literature, must agree that his enduring popularity is a result of how universally engaging his themes and characters are. Metanarratives are always psychologically appealing, especially in the postmodern world with its constant search for meaning, and Tolkien’s legendarium offers exactly that – a grand story encompassing various stories that offer a moral ideology that can be interpreted and understood in accordance with the readers’ own emotional and ideological needs. It is therefore not surprising, though unfortunate, that even neo-fascists have come to identify with Tolkien’s works (though they are far off the mark). On the other hand, more appropriately, they have also become an inspiration for anti-war campaigners and peace advocates. Though it may not have been the intention of the author, by the nature of their themes, Tolkien’s writings invite political debate. There is something inherently political about a landscape that is inhabited by various kinds and

175 classes of people, interactions between whom form the basis of the plot. The choice of one ideology over another, good over evil, as the protagonists of Tolkien’s stories make; is also political, though he did not like the use of the term in this context. He wrote –

I dislike the use of ‘political’ in such a context; it seems to me false. It seems clear to me that Frodo's duty was ‘humane’ not political. He naturally thought first of the Shire, since his roots were there, but the quest had as its object not the preserving of this or that polity, such as the half republic half aristocracy of the Shire, but the liberation from an evil tyranny of all the ‘humane’ – including those, such as ‘easterlings’ and Haradrim, that were still servants of the tyranny. (Tolkien, Letters 240-241)

It can be argued, however, that the above assertion by Tolkien contains a vein of the ‘political’ in it by its emphasis on the liberation of Easterlings and Haradrim, who are the racial Other in Tolkien’s socio-political landscape. The responsibility of rescuing them from evil may be interpreted as a form of the White Man’s Burden and therefore essentially political. Similarly Tolkien viewed his advocacy of nature as a basic ‘humane’ characteristic; however, as we have seen in recent times, matters relating to the environment have become part of an increasingly divisive and political debate. An exploration of nature within a text can no longer be divorced from the political aspects of environmental preservation. Ecocritically read, Tolkien’s vision emerges as a firm political stance that intertwines good and evil with the fate of the natural world. In my thesis I have explored the historical and mythological building blocks of Tolkien’s narrative mainly through an ecocritical lens, not just studying the environmental ethic of Tolkien but also attempting to understand its relevance in the context of the current environmental debate. My findings include the realization that an appreciation of Tolkien’s works can contribute to formulating an action-based conservationist ideology that upholds the values of the natural world and attempts to take steps for its preservation and care.

As discussed in previous chapters, one of Tolkien’s primary motivations in the creation of his mythopoeic universe was the formation of a mythology for England. This contributed to both his environmental ethic and the historicity of his writings. In

176 envisioning a mythical past for England, Tolkien instilled within it elements of his personal ideals regarding his dreams and expectations for England – a land of both pastoral simplicity and heroic chivalry, a green place that rejected materialism and greed, a world enriched by music, poetry and a commitment to a sense of universal community. The sheer detail of name, place, language and plot contained within Tolkien’s secondary world reveal his unflinching dedication to his exercise in sub-creation. In On-Fairy Stories Tolkien writes –

Probably every writer making a secondary world, a fantasy, every sub-creator, wishes in some measure to be a real maker, or hopes that he is drawing on reality: hopes that the peculiar quality of this secondary world (if not all the details) are derived from Reality, or are flowing into it. If he indeed achieves a quality that can fairly be described by the dictionary definition: ‘inner consistency of reality’, it is difficult to conceive how this can be, if the work does not in some way partake of reality. The peculiar quality of the ‘joy’ in successful Fantasy can thus be explained as a sudden glimpse of the underlying reality or truth. It is not only a ‘consolation’ for the sorrow of this world, but a satisfaction, and an answer to that question, ‘Is it true?’ (Tales 386-387)

The ‘joy’ that Tolkien refers to here, which he termed a ‘Eucatastrophe’ or ‘sudden joyous turn’ is then not just a form of emotional fulfillment but also an intellectual one as it stems from the realization that there is a fundamental truth contained inside a fairy story. Tolkien’s ability to link his fantasy world with truth or reality is reflected not just in how his themes are universal and derived from the primary world, but also in how he uses various methods and devices to make his mythical universe as historical in nature as possible. The Shire is not just an England of Tolkien’s imagination, but also the England of the past. This past is not just the ancient past as it is presented but also the past of Tolkien’s own childhood. That it is inhabited by hobbits instead of human beings is incidental to the fantasy genre. However the hobbits themselves are historical Englishmen, those who valued nature and community more than machines. In many ways Tolkien’s secondary world is nostalgia taken to the extreme, one which is reminisced about in intricate detail, embellished and retold, passing through both personal and

177 literary memory. His narrative techniques further the impression that this is a story that has come to us from the past, through various narrators, over the ages. It is a translation from a fictional language and contains within it other fictional languages that are not just identified but are expressed fully formed and intertwined with culture in the shape of songs and poetry.

In Middle-earth the geography is not formless or indistinct. It is supplied not just by meticulous descriptions within the text but also detailed maps which enable one to trace the journey of the protagonists. Because both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are quest narratives, along with some parts of The Silmarillion, the narrative of incidents within the plot is also a narrative of the land itself. In many ways the primary protagonist of Tolkien’s legendarium is Middle-earth. It is a story of the history of the land and the people that inhabit it. The changes and developments that are recorded in the narrative occur not only within the civilizations of Middle-earth’s sentient races but also within the shape and form of the land. In this aspect Tolkien’s legendarium most closely reflects its characteristic of an artificial mythology, as it uses myths as a vehicle of reality. The path of the familiar can be traced to have origins in the mythical. While Gandalf is a wandering wizard who sets off fireworks to amuse hobbit children, he is also a Maia, a powerful ancient spirit who has a purpose to fulfill in the world of mortals. The story in The Lord of the Rings is that of the Third Age but it contains references to the distant First Age. The consequences of actions within the narrative reverberate through time. The round shape of the world itself is a result of an event in the mythic past. The evil that began in primordial times in the form of Morgoth continues to exercise its influence until the end of the Third Age in the form of his servant Sauron. The forests that have been cut and their boundaries reduced throughout the millennia of Middle-earth time have festered in anger and finally rally to attack. It is all one long continuous story that contains within it the threads of numerous tales, which are interconnected and stem from each other. It is also interesting to note that the mythological richness of Tolkien’s legendarium can be viewed not only in the context of its internal mythology but also in terms of the influences it has derived from real-world mythologies. Tolkien was inspired by both pagan and Christian myths in his secondary world construction. While Christianity is reflected mainly in the moral backdrop of his narratives, he borrows various mythical

178 tropes from old-world and pagan mythologies that contribute to the antique flavour of his secondary world. These tropes, such as the myth of the Fall and the Atlantis myth, are repeated not as a form of simple imitation but because they convey fundamental and universal ideas that are common to all major philosophical traditions in the world, particularly those that are encountered in Western cultures.

Through my ecocritical reading of Tolkien’s texts I have discovered that nature in his works cannot be separated, either thematically or at the level of plot, from the basic constituents of his secondary world, that is; myths. As Dickerson and Evans point out –

Traditionally, myths articulate the primordial, elemental, and foundational truths by which a culture defines reality and its origin and place within it, and they do so in story form. Environmental concerns represent one facet of the larger body of truths illustrated by Tolkien’s myths. (3)

Nature operates on the level of plot as it is anthropomorphized in the form of various mythical and fantasy creatures who represent through their actions the values and powers of nature. At the same time nature as a thematic element is reflected in the politics of lands and race. The study of race in Tolkien is tied to ecocriticism. This is because race is connected inextricably with geographical identity and a sense of place. A particular kind of treatment of nature becomes the inherent characteristic of a race of Middle-earth and it determines its place within the racial hierarchy. The struggle between good and evil pits greed on one hand with sacrifice on the other, and the true reward of sacrifice is not in the acquisition of power or material wealth but in the reintroduction to a life lived in harmony with nature. At the end of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings there is a return to home which itself has been plunged into some form of turmoil. In The Hobbit this is in the form of the taking over of Bilbo’s home of Bag-End by his conniving cousins, while in The Lord of the Rings it is a bigger turmoil as Saruman takes over the Shire. True victory is achieved in both cases only when order is restored and home is returned to its natural utopian state. The act of preserving nature is seen as a reward unto itself. This is a powerful theme that speaks to the readers in terms of our current ecological predicaments. The Shire can be seen as a symbolic microcosm of our own home, the Earth. But it is the Shire in its ravaged state, overtaken by greed and

179 unsustainable development, its trees cut and its ecological balance completely disrupted. The Scouring of the Shire which is the penultimate chapter of The Lord of the Rings offers a powerful conclusion to the War of the Ring. Though it is sadly undervalued and absent from the film adaptations, it is perhaps one of the most important incidents that reflect Tolkien’s environmental ethic in the novel. The hobbits having saved the wider world finally save their own home from destruction and attempt to heal and replant it. This episode offers a powerful lesson of conservation and preservation of nature that must be an essential practice if the comforts of home are to be enjoyed. Similarly if humans wish to continue to live on the Earth in comfort and prosperity, they must take care to utilise its resources sustainably and heal the hurt they have caused to the environment and land through their activities. The act of safeguarding the natural world that would ensure the habitability of the world in the future is the moral duty of each individual and every generation. This is an essential message in Tolkien’s writings, one which is most clearly expressed through the mouth of Gandalf –

Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule. (Tolkien, Lord 879)

It is imperative therefore to recognize that Tolkien’s works are important not just on account of their literary worth but also in their ability to reflect and inspire change in the real world. It is my hope that future adaptations of Tolkien’s works would particularly reflect his environmental ethic and critical scholarship of Tolkien would continue to delve further in the field of ecocriticism, not just to increase an understanding of the author’s works but also to derive inspiration from his environmentalism and practically adapt it to real-world ecological advocacy.

It is almost impossible I believe for an admirer of a particular work, such as I am of Tolkien’s, to view that work with complete objectivity as is the duty of a researcher and critic. To write about one’s favourite characters, who are in fact personal heroes and fictional guides, and to examine them through a critical lens is no easy task. This I think was the chief limitation in my attempt to study Tolkien’s works academically and must

180 be acknowledged. Though I believe I have managed to avert the possibility of personal bias creeping into my analyses by trying to be as objective as possible, nevertheless this period of research has affected me from the opposite end. My personal loyalties towards characters and the author have undergone a transformation and I have been able to reevaluate various aspects of Tolkien’s themes and treatments of different elements within his narratives. At the same time many new ideas, which I had never considered in context of their relationship with Tolkien’s writings have come to the forefront and have widened my understanding of both his works and his character. It is said that one should never meet one’s heroes as it might lead to disappointment. Happily, in my case, my ‘meeting’ with Tolkien on a critical level proved to be the opposite of disappointing. While I have recognized and acknowledged the differences I have with him regarding racial politics and gender, at the same time I have developed a renewed enthusiasm and appreciation for his literary and creative genius. Tolkien’s works in their inherent universality cut across time and space and express themes and ideas that have captured popular imagination and will probably continue to do so for years to come. The mountains on Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, are named after the mountains of Middle- earth. Though we may only be able to journey with Frodo to Mount Doom within our imaginations, perhaps many centuries from now future generations of humans will actually step on the slopes of Doom Mons on Titan and remember and reflect upon a fairy story written in the 20th century.

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