#The Letter of Tolkien

[great-and-small]

Need y’all to know that in the 1970’s a letter to the editor was published in Daily Telegraph where the author offhandedly used the phrase “Tolkien-like gloom” to describe an area with barren trees and JRRT himself wrote back an incensed rebuttal at the use of his name in a context that suggested anything negative about trees.

[thinkinginquenya]

Hot take, and I don't remember if Tolkien talks about this in his letters but:

Pippin didn't accidentally summon the Balrog. He MAY have summoned the orcs, but the Balrog would have come anyway, because - like with the Watcher In The Water - powerful ancient things are drawn to the power of The Ring. The Balrog was drawn to the ring, and I'm sure the orcs would be very curious as to why the Balrog suddenly decided to take a stroll all of a sudden.

At most, what Pippin did was to allow the orcs to work out where the Fellowship was before the Balrog got there. and this is actually a GOOD thing, because it means that the Fellowship ran away to the bridge before the Balrog could find them. If the Balrog had caught up to them before they got near to the bridge, they probably would have been a lot worse off AND the orcs would probably be following at a safe distance waiting to pick off any stragglers.

Was it a good idea for Pippin to throw rocks down a hole? (or in the PJ films' case, poke a corpse???) No, of course not. Was it a classic Tolkien case of a decision of questionable wisdom leading to a good outcome? I would argue yes.

[enchantedbook]

'Letters From Father Christmas' by J.R.R. Tolkien, 1920.

[polutrope]

I said, outside Lichfield Cathedral, to a friend of my youth — long since dead of gas-gangrene (God rest his soul; I grieve still) — 'Why is that cloud so beautiful?' He said: 'Because you have begun to write poetry, John Ronald.' He was wrong. It was because Death was near, and all was intolerably fair, lost ere grasped. That was why I began to write poetry.

The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, No. 43

[tolkien-povs]

Reading The Hobbit has a warm, cozy feeling to it, like sitting by a fireplace and downing a warm mug of hot chocolate. There are times when you want to cry, times when you want to laugh, times when you want to fight alongside Thorin’s Company. But at the end of the story, you realise that you will never experience that, because The Hobbit is fictional in reality, but so real in the heart and mind.

Reading The Lord of The Rings has a cool feeling, neither warm nor cold, but a comfortable one; it’s as if you’re sitting by a window, staring into the rain, and wishing you could go outside and relish in the rain but you can’t because it’s cold. There are times when you want to laugh, cry, dine with the Fellowship, fight with the Fellowship. But you can’t, because The Lord of The Rings is only a figment lodged in your heart, tucked away in a cozy spot.

Reading The Silmarillion has the feel of sitting in an enormous library almost abandoned, and fishing out an old, dusty book from a nook long forgotten, written about the history of the world. There are cases when you want to delve into that world and explore it, revel in it, fight it, love it, yell at the people in it. But you can never do that, because it is a history long past, existing only in the minds of very few.

Reading the old stories narrating the entire history of Arda has the feel of travelling back in time to the Library of Alexandria, reading and studying all the library can give. There are times when you want to cry, mourn, grieve, celebrate, laugh, revel in the world. But you can never, as that world, those people, are all part of your heart and mind, tucked away into the most precious part of you.

Reading the legendarium doesn’t make you want to be a part of that world because you love it. It makes you want to be a part of that world because the characters are normal people, like you, who got roped into an unlikely adventure, forever narrated in song, poems, ballads and laments.

They are simple stories, of simple people, in a simple world, where if you existed, you could have been one of those souls both fortunate and unfortunate.

Reading the legendarium makes you want to be part of it, because it makes you think you can survive it.

And certainly, if you have read this amazing mythological masterpiece, you absolutely can survive it.

[sempermoi]

New iPad means first warm up portrait: have a Feanor ^^

[anghraine]

I know I've ranted about it a million times, but every time someone brings up Roman, Byzantine, and Egyptian inspirations/influences on Gondor in more mainstream Tolkien fandom spaces (not me, because I don't even talk about it off Tumblr/DW), it seems like there's always someone who gets super weird and defensive about it. I've seen so many "well actually there's no need to consider any influences outside of England, mythology for England blah blah" responses.

And it's like! Oh, you want to play the decontextualized Tolkien quotes game? How about this one:

“But this [the setting of LOTR] is not a purely 'Nordic' area in any sense. If Hobbiton and Rivendell are taken (as intended) to be at about the latitude of Oxford, then Minas Tirith, 600 miles south, is at about the latitude of Florence [in Italy]. The Mouths of Anduin and the ancient [Gondorian] city of Pelargir are at about the latitude of ancient Troy [in Turkey]. Auden has asserted that for me 'the North is a sacred direction.' That is not true. The North-west part of Europe, where I (and most of my ancestors) have lived, has my affection, as a man’s home should. I love its atmosphere, and know more of its histories and languages than I do of other parts; but it is not ‘sacred’, nor does it exhaust my affections. I have, for instance, a particular love for the Latin language, and among its descendants for Spanish ... The progress of the tale ends in what is far more like the re-establishment of an effective Holy Roman Empire with its seat in Rome than anything that would be devised by a 'Nordic.'”

Or this one:

we come [in ROTK] to the half-ruinous Byzantine City of Minas Tirith

Or:

In the south Gondor rises to a peak of power, almost reflecting Númenor, and then fades slowly to decayed Middle Age, a kind of proud, venerable, but increasingly impotent Byzantium.

Or:

The Númenóreans of Gondor were proud, peculiar, and archaic, and I think are best pictured in (say) Egyptian terms. In many ways they resembled ‘Egyptians’ - the love of, and power to construct, the gigantic and massive. And in their great interest in ancestry and in tombs. […] I think the crown of Gondor (the S. Kingdom) was very tall, like that of Egypt, but with wings attached, not set straight back but at an angle. The N. Kingdom had only a diadem (III 323). Cf. the difference between the N. and S. kingdoms of Egypt.

Or:

Thank you very much for your letter. … It came while I was away, in Gondor (sc. Venice), as a change from the North Kingdom

Middle-earth is not equivalent to England, or northern Europe in general, and Gondor especially is not northern at all!

[inwpaintress]

Not quite finished, but I fit all the words in.

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

One funny difference between J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis is that Tolkien seemed entirely uninterested in writing about sex, whereas Lewis's writing was also chaste but with barely repressed kinkiness simmering just beneath the surface

[cantsayidont]

In an undated letter written in the late 1950s, reproduced in THE LETTERS OF JRR TOLKIEN, Tolkien alludes to the legal difficulties Sam faced after returning from the Grey Havens at the end of LORD OF THE RINGS:

When Master Samwise reported the ‘departure over Sea’ of Bilbo (and Frodo) in 1421, it was still held impossible to presume death; and when Master Samwise became Mayor in 1427, a rule was made that: ‘if any inhabitant of the Shire shall pass over Sea in the presence of a reliable witness, with the expressed intention not to return, or in circumstances plainly implying such an intention, he or she shall be deemed to have relinquished all titles rights or properties previously held or occupied, and the heir or heirs thereof shall forthwith enter into possession of these titles, rights, or properties, as is directed by established custom, or by the will and disposition of the departed, as the case may require.’

You can see how the residents of Hobbiton might have seen Sam's return as the premise of a kind of Agatha Christie mystery plot: favorite servant of eccentric middle-aged local resident departs on an unexpected journey with his master; returns home alone two weeks later; and then conveniently produces a copy of said eccentric local resident's new will, naming the servant the heir to all his property — and the only account the servant can offer of his master's whereabouts is a preposterous story about Elves. Suspicious! Very suspicious indeed!

[beardedmrbean]

[wordbunch]

"Of course [The Lord of the Rings] does not belong to me. It has been brought forth and must go now its appointed way in the world, though naturally I take a deep interest in its fortunes, as a parent would of a child. I am comforted to know that it has good friends to defend it against the malice of its enemies."

- J. R. R. Tolkien in Letters from Tolkien

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[eye-of-mordor]

The Elves of Eregion made Three supremely beautiful and powerful rings, almost solely of their own imagination, and directed to the preservation of beauty: they did not confer invisibility. But secretly in the subterranean Fire, in his own Black Land, Sauron made One Ring, the Ruling Ring that contained the powers of all the others, and controlled them, so that its wearer could see the thoughts of all those that used the lesser rings, could govern all that they did, and in the end could utterly enslave them. He reckoned, however, without the wisdom and subtle perceptions of the Elves. The moment he assumed the One, they were aware of it, and of his secret purpose, and were afraid. They hid the Three Rings, so that not even Sauron ever discovered where they were and they remained unsullied. The others they tried to destroy.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Recently found out the Palantíri were gifted to the Numenorians by the Eldar and it’s given me *ideas.* So the Palantir were made by Fëanor right. And it’s safe to assume they were kept by the Fëanorians, unless Maedhros decided to gift one to Fingoflin for communication, but I don’t think that would’ve gone over well for anyone.

So here’s my two theories:

1. Each son of Fëanor has a set of Palantír. I think it’s safe to assume there were more than seven made? I think it’s written that Elendil managed to ‘save’ seven of them, but don’t quote me on that. (It doesn’t really matter, this works either way. Also imagine little Tyelpë on his tip toes facetiming his uncles 🥲)

When their various fortresses fall, most of the Fëanorions manage to save at least one of their seeing stones. When Maedhros and Maglor end up in Amon Ereb alone, they have all their brothers’ Palantir but no use for them.

Enter Elrond and Elros. They come to love them, care for them. And vice versa. When they’re sent to Gil Galad, Mae and Mags send these pieces of their family with them. Maybe they can find some good use for them, a final legacy for Fëanor that doesn’t end in blood. Maybe it’ll keep them safe.

(I’ll go into detail of how they end up in Numenor below)

2. Celebrimbor ended up with Curufin’s Palantir in Nargothrond, and Mae and Mags sent the rest his way at some point before their final Silmaril run. They don’t have anything else, and their nephew deserves something made before madness consumed their family. Something made out of pure curiosity rather than pride that doesn’t have too many bad memories attached.

Celebrimbor appreciates the gesture but has no real use for them. He’s not particularly ambitious as a lord. Doesn’t have any need for immediate long distance communication, and in all honesty would likely be accused of spying if he did start using them (no matter if that isn’t how they work.)

Then he hears that Elros, who he’s gotten to know fairly well alongside Elrond over the years of the War of Wrath, is heading off to Numenor. He decides to give the new King something as a token of their friendship, and to keep in touch with his twin from a distance, the way the sons of Fëanor once did. And unlike many others, they won’t scorn his grandfather’s work.

Elros is managing a pretty large kingdom, so he takes the bulk of them. Elrond keeps one.

Later on, Elrond’s (not used since the death of Elros’ children) is lost in the fall of Eregion when he desperately tried to use it to find Celebrimbor. And of course Elendil manages to bring seven Palantir to Middle Earth when Numenor falls.

[polutrope]

It will probably work out very differently from this plan when it really gets written, as the thing seems to write itself once I get going, as if the truth comes out then, only imperfectly glimpsed in the preliminary sketch...

The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, No. 91

[sugurugetos]

im telling you guys this is one of the best sauron interpretations we could have ever received like insanely manipulative where he leaves each character in a spin, absolutely dead-eyed but of course he is one of the fallen ainur and how could that light ever be replaced?? literally twitches in anger when someone even dares to say no to his whims and wishes and then smiles and looks like he's about to go jump off the tallest tower in eregion out of spite