Lovecraftian Tolkien

There’s no doubt that H.P. Lovecraft and J.R.R Tolkien were very different writers.  That being said, there are a few moments in The Fellowship of the Ring that have a vaguely Lovecraftian feel about them.  In “The Great River,” for example, “a dark shape, like a cloud and yet not a cloud, for it moved far more swiftly, came out of the blackness in the South, and sped towards the Company, blotting out all light as it approached.  Soon it appeared as a great winged creature, blacker than the pits in the night.  Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water.  Frodo felt a sudden chill running through him and clutching at his heart; there was a deadly cold, like the memory of an old wound, in his shoulder…. Suddenly the great bow of Lórien sang… There was a harsh croaking scream, as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of the eastern shore.”

At this point, the reader does not know the nature of the creature – and that uncertainty is very Lovecraftian, as is the “croaking scream.”  Presumably it was a Nazgûl riding on a winged beast, but it is interesting to speculate whether it was actually a Ring-wraith in alternate form.  By comparison, one might recall the image of Sauron fleeing as a vampire in The Silmarillion, dripping blood across the landscape.

 

 

There are a few other examples of Lovecraftian echoes.  The journal of the Dwarves found at Balin’s tomb has a creepy, tortured quality to it: “All had been broken and plundered; but beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book.  It had been slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other dark marks like old blood that little of it could be read.”  There must be a copy of Lovecraft’s famous Necronomicon that looks something like that.

Most obviously, of course, there is the Watcher in the Water outside of Moria.  In contrast with the monster from the movie version, this creature remains mostly hidden, and deeply enigmatic: “Out from the water a long sinuous tentacle had crawled; it was pale-green and luminous and wet…. Twenty other arms came rippling out.  The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.”

Tolkien’s story is a more optimistic one than Lovecraft would have written, but there is still something of lurking, nameless horror in it – in stark but fascinating contrast to so much that is noble and luminous.
 

 

 

First Image: Art by Santiago Caruso.                    

Source: http://tentaclii.wordpress.com/

Second Image: Photography from American Museum of Natural History and image from Nuremberg Chronicle.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nuremberg_chronicles_-_f_2v.png

Elvish Work

As they about to leave Lothlórien, the members of the Fellowship receive gifts from Galadriel and the Elves.  Upon receiving some impressive cloaks, Pippin asks if they are magical garments.  The leader of the Elves replies, “I do not know what you mean by that… They are elvish robes, certainly, if that is what you mean.  Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lórien that we love; for we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make.”

One of the tragedies of our world is that this form of labor is out of reach for so many, who are bound to systems of production and conditions of labor that are far from idyllic.  William Morris, the nineteenth-century British artist and activist, imagined something like the elvish vision of work.  Useful Work Versus Useless Toil (Penguin Great Ideas, 2008) is a great introduction to his thought, and may even show us some hidden paths to Lórien.

Image:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Morris_Tulip_and_Willow_design_1873.jpg

The Lady Galadriel

Galadriel is one of Tolkien’s more developed – and most fascinating – female characters.  In part, this is because she is extremely powerful.  And though this power rests partly in her great beauty, she is full of complexity and surprises.  In the chapter “The Mirror of Galadriel,” she charms Gimli the Dwarf not just with her appearance, but with her knowledge of and respect for his culture.  Despite the enmity that existed between Elves and Dwarves, she says, “Dark is the water of Kheled-zâram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-nâla, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dûm in Elder Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone.”  “And the Dwarf, hearing the names given in his own ancient tongue, looked up and met her eyes; and it seemed to him that he looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy and saw there love and understanding.”

Galadriel isn’t just beautiful – she is profoundly intelligent, covertly ambitious, and generally “deep.”  What does Galadriel see, when she looks into the Mirror of water and starlight that offers visions from afar?  When tempted by the offer of the One Ring, she notes that she could become “Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain!  Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning!  Stronger than the foundations of the earth.”  Surely she could see those forces echoed in her own mind and body.  Or she might simply see “a slender elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad.”  In Galadriel there is power and humility, urgency and patience, mystery and revelation.

Is Aragorn right to say that there is no evil in her?  Perhaps.  Yet surely he is right to say “Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel!” – for she is, as Frodo says of her, “wise and fearless and fair.”

 

 

Image: Adapted from Faeries by Brian Froud and Alan Lee.

 

Subtle Magic

One of the marvelous things about Tolkien is his ability to invent and describe subtle forms of magic – forces that are reminiscent of the real world, yet delicately strange.  The trees of Lothlórien provide a good example.  In the chapter of that name, Legolas says, “There are no trees like the trees of this 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.”
 

 

 

Perhaps my favorite example of this “subtle magic,” though, is the description of the Mirrormere outside Moria:

“They stooped over the dark water.  At first they could see nothing.  Then slowly they saw the forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, and the peaks were like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there was a space of sky.  There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though sunlight was in the sky above.  Of their own stooping forms no shadow could be seen.” 

After reading Tolkien, the nature of our own world seems more magical, the forests more luminous, the stars more haunting.  Maybe it is just a dream.  Or maybe it is an ancient song, an unbroken memory, a kind of subtle magic.

 

 

Radagast and the Birds (art)

Happy Holidays, from Radagast the Brown!

Text: Gandalf comments on Radagast in The Fellowship of the Ring.

Image: Includes an element from the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

The Beauty That Changes Us

In the chapter “Lothlórien,” the Fellowship enters the forest inhabited by the Galadhrim, the Elves of the Lady Galadriel.  Yet not everyone is comfortable with this part of the journey.  Boromir says “And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say.  But of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed.”  Aragorn, however, replies, “Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth…. Perilous indeed… fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them.”

The beauty of nature and the power of love both have the ability to change us.  Perilous is the drowning ocean, and the sadness of loss; perilous is the summer storm, and the labyrinth of desire; perilous is the beauty of Lothlórien … and of Galadriel.  Yet living is by its very nature dangerous – only death and nonexistence are “safe.”  Earnest, hopeful souls may find in life what they find in Lothlórien – beauty that changes them, and makes them better than they were.


Image: Arthur Rackham
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rhinegold_and_the_Valkyries_p_022.jpg

Fuel for a Wizard's Fire

In the chapter, “The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm,” Gandalf refers to himself as a “servant of the Secret Fire.”  The wizard is, indeed, associated with fire throughout the book.  Notably, however, his use of magic is limited and restrained.  He must still work within the elements and structure of the world.  In an earlier chapter, he reminds Legolas, “But I must have something to work on.  I cannot burn snow.”  Fire needs wood.  In “A Journey in the Dark,” Gandalf ignites trees to battle the attacking wolves: “There was a roar and a crackle, and the tree above him burst into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame.” 

Yet when Gandalf confronts the Balrog in Moria, he is standing on a narrow stone bridge, bereft of fuel.  To add to the dilemma, the Balrog is a creature of flame – and it is not clear that further fire would cause it much harm.  So the old man stands before the mighty demon beneath the vastness of the mountains – and breaks his wooden staff.  There, then, was the necessary fuel for his magic: “A blinding sheet of white flame sprang up.  The bridge cracked.”

Sherlock Holmes once proclaimed, “I can’t make bricks without clay.”  Gandalf couldn’t make fire without wood – and so the power of wizards is bound to the power of the earth.  Whatever kind of magic we’re doing, we all need something to work on.

The Memory of the Land

In “The Ring Goes South,” Gimli the dwarf says, “we have wrought the image of those mountains into many works of metal and of stone, and into many songs and tales.”  The landscape of Middle-earth is certainly a powerful force in the minds of the book’s characters.  Yet, nature in the story is not merely a static object, but a living force.  It is something that feels and remembers.  The connection is, of course, particularly strong in connection with the elves.  Gandalf observes, “Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there.”  Legolas actually hears the stones lament the vanished Elves: “deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone.”

In real life, we may think the landscape remembers us – but usually because we have damaged it so severely that we can see its lingering scars.  In Middle-earth, it is the life – perhaps even the soul – of nature that speaks and remembers, not just its broken bones.

The Mountain Smoked (art)

Image: Includes elements from The American Museum of Natural History and the photography of Julia Margaret Cameron.

Gandalf the Grey

“The Council of Elrond” is a delightfully convoluted chapter, but here I will focus on just one small part of it: the scene where Gandalf recounts his encounter with Saruman the White (see yesterday’s interpretive art post).  Gandalf’s behavior during the confrontation really captures his overall personality in the book – particularly his incarnation as Gandalf the Grey.  Saruman arrogantly announces, “For I am Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours!”  Gandalf dryly replies, “I liked white better.”

Gandalf shows his characteristic philosophical depth in this scene, as well, when he observes “he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.”  His vision of wisdom is based on reverence for life, respect for nature, and a sense of humility.  And ancient istari spirit though he may be, we see the human-like frailty of Gandalf in this encounter, for when Saruman threatens that Sauron may “devise, say, a fitting reward for the hindrance and insolence of Gandalf the Grey,” the wizard counters with the boast, “That may not prove to be one of the lighter matters” – but he admits to Elrond’s guests that “my words were empty, and he knew it.”

Grey – the color of mist and smoke, but also of the clear eyes of Arwen.

The color of ambiguity and mediation and time-worn hoary heads.

The color that marks the presence of fire.

 

Grey – the color of Gandalf.

 

 

 

 

Image: Adapted from the photograph of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow by Julia Margaret Cameron.

A Tribute to the Half-Continent

Happy Holidays to the Half-Continent!  The Monster Blood Tattoo series (now The Foundling’s Tale, in some countries) is a brilliant fantasy adventure – and one that many Tolkien fans will enjoy.

 

 

 

 

Lamplighter at Amazon.com

The Temptation of Galadriel (art)

 

The sculpture can be seen at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

http://www.philamuseum.org/

The nebula image was adapted from one on hubblesite.org.

http://hubblesite.org/

Signs and Tokens

In “A Knife in the Dark” and “Flight to the Ford,” the messages and marks left by the various characters are an important part of the story.  Strider finds an elf-stone on a bridge that gives him hope that the way may be safe, even though he cannot tell “Whether it was set there, or let fall by chance.”  The markings left on a stone on Weathertop are also ambiguous, but Strider thinks “It might be a sign left by Gandalf…”  Frodo says, “I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may mean… It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us.”  More ominously, the wound Frodo receives from “the pale king,” is a kind of symbolic presence.  Sam observes, “There’s nothing to be seen but a cold white mark on his shoulder.”  In the case of this wound, though, the flesh remembers the evil that touched it.  Gandalf leaves a message for the Ringwraiths, too, when the river floods and stops their assault on Frodo.  The white cavalry that appeared within the water were just a token gesture, a symbolic flourish by which the wizard declared to his friends and foes: “I am here!”

Signs, tokens, messages, symbols, gestures, codes… they are the means by which we communicate with one another.  They are ways that, for good or for ill, we tell one another “I have been here,” or “I am here, in spirit.”  Let us hope that we leave more guiding jewels than haunted wounds, and that we see, with clear eyes, the messages we leave for one another – no matter how the grim the wilderness through which we travel.

 

 

Image: "Gandalf" in the Viking Alphabet

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/ancient/write-your-name-in-runes.html

Saruman, the Subtle Spider (art)

The first in a series of reimagined, abstract scene interpretations -- based on my own photography.

Gandalf recalls his encounter with Saruman in "The Council of Elrond" -- The Fellowship of the Ring

Revelations and Vulnerabilities

In the chapters “Strider” and “A Knife in the Dark,” the whispers and rumors of the prior chapter bloom into bold assertions and dramatic revelations.  It is fitting that such things happen here, in Bree, which represents a kind of crossroads between the worlds of humans and hobbits.




Aragorn – going under the name of Strider – gets a double reveal.  Gandalf’s letter serves as a kind of herald for this king in exile, and contains the memorable poem that includes these lines:

             All that is gold does not glitter,

                 Not all those who wander are lost;

             The old that is strong does not wither,

                 Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Shortly after, Aragorn reveals his true name, in one of the most dramatic lines of the entire book: “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.”  The absence of Gandalf only heightens the tension, of course – the hobbits’ fate rests largely in the skill and goodwill of this man.

By the beginning of the next chapter, the Ringwraiths are becoming more assertive and menacing.  The narrative surprisingly returns to Crickhollow, where one of the Riders pounds at the door of the “red herring” house where Fatty Bolgar is staying.  “Open, in the name of Mordor!” cries the Wraith.  It’s not clear how much Fatty knows, but many in Middle-earth would have recognized the name of that place.  The Rider might as well have said, “Open, in the name of the Devil!” 

What is fascinating about Aragorn and the Riders, at this point in the story, is that they both hover between great power and significant fragility.  Aragorn has been roaming the wilderness as a mistrusted Ranger… with a broken sword.  He and the hobbits will spend most of the “Knife” chapter essentially “on the run,” hiding from and trying to outmaneuver the wraiths.  The Ringwraiths, likewise, though clearly very dangerous, are not automatically deadly.  Merry faints in the presence, but lives.  And even Fatty Bolgar manages to escape them back at Crickhollow.

It is partly because the Ringwraiths are not all-powerful juggernauts that they are also so enigmatic and intriguing.  The blow on the house’s door is “soft but heavy.”  The voice that calls out is “thin” as well as “menacing.”  To assault crowded places openly is “not their way” for “their power is in terror.”  Likewise, Aragorn is so interesting and appealing because he is both powerful and vulnerable, confident yet (at least in his Strider guise) unassuming and vaguely mischievous.  By the end of “A Knife in the Dark,” these two forces – Aragorn and the Ringwraiths – are tested against one another.

 

Image: Arthur Rackham

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ring62.jpg

Whispers in Bree

The chapter “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony” is when the novel really comes into its own, gaining momentum, depth, and complexity.  In some ways, this chapter is an exploration of the spoken word, cataloging the variations and nuances of conversation, rumor, whisper, chatter, and gossip.  Like so many of Tolkien’s chapters, it provides a fascinating tension between comfort and danger. 

The town is known for its rumors – “Strange as News from Bree,” the saying goes – and here we are introduced to Rangers who bring “news from afar, and… strange forgotten tales.”  In such instances, “talk” is exotic, expansive, and intriguing.  Yet there is a more dangerous and claustrophobic element of conversation that suffuses the inn.  When the hobbits meet the proprietor of The Prancing Pony they are confronted by “a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke.”   The hobbits notice furtive, sinister, whispering characters such that, by the end of the chapter, even the amiable Barliman Butterbur’s face appears to be “concealing dark designs.”  And the “talk” and rumors that spring up after Frodo puts on the ring and vanishes are decidedly dangerous, as Strider soon reminds him. 

Whispers are full of ambivalence.  They can be the tools of conspirators and criminals.  Yet friends are apt to whisper, as are lovers.  At the inn at Bree, whispers and songs and rumors collide in spectacular fashion – and our hobbit heroes must move carefully.

Poems from the Wild

More poetry based on The Hobbit…
 

A Hill Full of Goblins

In the cunning minds of goblins

There are uncomfortable devices,

Ingenious engines of noise and flame,

Countless contraptions, cold and creaking,

Chains, games, and hob-nailed toes

Made for tormenting their unlucky foes.
 

But the worst such goblin mind

To scheme and snicker in the dark

Is twisted and tumultuous,

Petty, pernicious, and parsimonious,

The very foul and convoluted one

Belonging to his Bloated Highness,

The Great and Mighty Goblin King.
 

He lives under the misting mountains

Where the stone-giants undertake

Rough, rock-throwing revelries.

And he, the cruel Great Goblin

Catches and snatches unwary travellers

To put in his dank, polluted caves.
 

So when you cross a hilly trail

Or take a tunnel far beneath one

Be sure to search it carefully

Lest it be full of Goblin Kings,

Or other old, unpleasant things.

  

The Curses of Wargs
 

The curses of the savage wargs

Are like the howling hexes

That wolves cast upon the night,

Except more dire and unrelenting.

Some curses they learned from goblins,

Ugly magic stolen from the dark.

Some curses they themselves invented

As they prowled through pinewoods,

Stomping on clumps of sorrel

And crushing sweet strawberries

Beneath their calculating claws.
 

New curses they learned from fire

When Gandalf ensorcelled pinecones

And sent uncanny, swirling flames

Amid the Misty Mountain pack.

Those curses, they will remember.
 

Beorn

There is something in the bear

That wants to be a man,

To live in oak-wood lodgings

And speak to other travellers

In the twisting human tongue.
 

But there is something in the man
That wants to be a bear,

To crack the honeyed hives,

To scatter bees,

To knock down trees,

To sit upon the quiet Carrock,

And contemplate the honeyed moon.
 

Some Hobbit Poetry

For those inspired by the new Hobbit movie – and also for those disappointed by it – here are some of my poems, based on the early chapters of the book.

 

 

Gandalf at Bag-End

 

The Wandering Wizard,

Caught in his Silver Scarf

Approaches old Bag-End

In the Market for a Burglar. 

Gandalf, the Pilgrim Grey,

Who Forged the Fireworks

That Kindled Hobbit Hearts

And Lingered in Memory

Like Burning Laburnums.

 

Elusive as his Pipe-Smoke,

He Appears and Vanishes.

Beneath his Blue Hat’s Brim

His Eyebrows Bristle Boldly,

But in his Sorcerous Thought,

He Hatches Cunning Schemes

And Plots Unlikely, Heroic Deeds.

 

 

Tea with Dwarves

 

A little Beer,

Baked Seed-Cakes,

A Jug of Coffee,

Hot from the Hearth,

Red Wine for the Wizard,

Mince-Pie, Pork-Pie,

Jam and Cheese and Tarts,

Strong Ale and More Cakes,

Chicken, Eggs, and Pickles,

Chips on Fine Glasses,

Cracks on Old Plates,

New-Broken Bottles,

Hot-Roasted Corks,

Smoke-Rings Twisting,

Dwarf-Songs in the Dark,

The Chanting of Wanderers

The Strumming of Harps,

Memories of Dragons,

Memories of Gold,

Tales of Old Days

By Thorin’s Company Told.

A Banquet for a Burglar,

A Feast for a King,

Memories of Sorrows,

Lost Lives and Lost Things.

Tales of Old Days

By Thorin’s Company Told,

In the Home of a Hobbit,

Bilbo Baggins, the Bold.

 

 

Dragon-Smoke

The Wicked Worm,

The Dragon Smaug,

Who Shatters Pines

And Feasts on Dwarves

And Sleeps

And Sleeps on Mighty Heaps

Of Pale and Dusty Gold.

 

He Broods of Young Mortals

He Stole from Midnight Dale,

In his Lonely Mountain

That Echoes

With Crumbling Kingdoms

And Curses

Whispered in the Fiery Air.

 

Old Smaug, the Terrible,

Marked in Bright Red

Upon the Mountain,

Upon the Musty Map,

That Leads

Straight to his Doorstep.

And to Death, or to Glory,

In the Mountain’s Mouth.

 

 

Rivendell

 

Across the Narrow Bridge

The Ponies Lightly Pass

The Dwarves Trod Slowly

The Mischievous Elves,

However, Laugh,

And Sing their Summer Songs.

 

Through the Valley, into the House,

They bring their Map to Elrond.

And by the Light of Crescent Moon,

The Wise Lord Reads the Ancient Runes.

 

The Letters Marked by Silver Pens

In Ancient Days by Bearded Dwarves

Give up their Secrets Silently,

Telling of a Knocking Thrush,

And Durin’s Day, and Keyholes.