So without further delay, we’d like to announce our first corporate donation is from  Badali Jewelry – the amazing proprietors of quality hand-crafted jewelry-art, and unique and original custom jewelry. While we know them for their amazing line-up of officially licensed Tolkien related items, they also feature other great properties like  have an amazing offering of other categories. From the wonderfully witty Geek Tags, to their Zodiac offerings.

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Among them them was this interesting piece by Arandir analysing the Battle of the Five Armies. We felt it was deserving of a wider audience and are delighted to — with Arandir’s permission — reproduce it for you as a TORn Library piece.

How many fought at the Battle of the Five Armies?

by TORn staffer Arandir

It is well known that in his stories, especially concerning battles, Tolkien does not give his readers much information about the size of the armies involved. This is the case with the Battle of Five Armies, as described in The Hobbit. This article shall lay out all findings regarding the battle -– focusing on the statistics, quoting passages from the text and providing speculative remarks.

There is no question that from its name, we can make out that the five armies involved are: elves, dwarves, men, goblins and wargs (but also including eagles – to which I refer later on). In The Hobbit the battle is described in the chapter ‘The Clouds Burst’ but in the previous chapters leading to it (and the one that follows after) contain some hints and information about all armies involved.

Before the battle

Taking into consideration the fourteenth chapter from the book, ‘Fire and Water’, during Smaug’s attack on Lake-town, we are presented with the following quotes:

“… every warrior was armed, every arrow and dart was ready.”
“… a hail of dark arrows leaped up and snapped and rattled on his scales and jewels …”
“… cheering on the archers” – Bard
“… there was still a company of archers.”

There is no doubt that Lake-town had some form of army as words like warrior, archers and company are clear references to such a military structure. Regarding numbers, we are not told at this point but one can only guess that since during the town’s destruction many had died or fled (but some remained to fight the Battle of the Five Armies alongside the Elves) a few hundred would have certainly been present.

After the death of Smaug, in the same chapter, we are told about the Wood Elves’ army coming to the men’s rescue.

“He [the Elvenking] had not boats or rafts enough for his host, and they were forced to go the slower way by foot.”

The word host here implies quite a large number of infantry. In fact, if one looks it up in the dictionary, it is described as: “a great multitude, a muster” – just like the mustering of Rohan at the time of the War of the Ring. It can only be assumed that in order to help the men of Lake-town, and carry the large supplies we are told of in the book, the Elvenking would have needed as many elves as he could gather.

“… all the men of arms who were still able, and the most of the Elvenking’s array, got ready to march …”

So now we know that the remaining men who had survived the attack on Lake-town and the majority of the Elf army headed towards the Mountain. Once again array is used to describe the Elven force.

Proceeding towards the next chapter, ‘The Gathering of the Clouds’, the events set in motion by the death of Smaug start to unfold and the strategies of each army will slowly be laid out as the narrative continues. At this point, Thorin and the Company are hiding on top of Ravenhill, but soon receive word of the dragon’s demise by Roäc — along with the following statement:

“… many are gathering hither beside the birds … Already a host of the elves is on the way …”

Smaug Destroys Lake Town – John Howe

With the progression of the chapter, the dwarves find themselves captives inside Erebor as the Mountain is besieged. Yet again, we find further ambiguous references to the size of the armies:

“There came a night when suddenly there were many lights as of fires and torches away south in Dale before them [...] ‘They have come!’ said Balin. ‘And their camp is very great.’”

The next chapter, ‘A Thief in the Night’, contains only one relevant quote -– it is, ironically, one out of two in all The Hobbit that gives any reference to the size of the armies. Thorin soon receives information that a dwarf host has been dispatch to aid in his struggle:

“… Dáin and more than five hundred dwarves, hurrying from the Iron Hills …”

The idea that five hundred dwarves participated in the Battle of Five Armies is something that almost every reader of the book is aware of.

But this is still unclear since it cleverly uses the words more than. How much more than that figure they could have been is impossible to state, but what is definitive is that by including Thorin, his company, Dáin and possibly dwarf scouts and other military workforce, between 525 and 550 might have been present that day of the battle.

Like the dwarves of Erebor, the Celts were a group of people renowned for their warriors who were forced to flee their mountainous homeland in the east due to unknown strife around 1600 BCE (the Bronze Age). Spilling into Europe, the Celts wandered for generations, making their way west to the British Isles. It is worth noting that the term “Celts” applies to several groups of un-unified peoples who, much like the dwarves, were prone to both fighting against each other and in turn, banding together to unite against a common enemy, such as the Roman legions.

When comparing the Celts to dwarves, it is important to focus on one of the northern tribes (in modern Scotland): the Picts. They were given their name by the Romans, who found the animal shapes and designs they painted on their bodies with blue woad to be curious pictures. The Celts were also in the habit of shaping their hair before battle – using a mixture of lime and urine as a sort of styling clay that caked white onto their tresses and made their hair stand on end. For a cinematic example of these ancient warriors, check out the trailer for Kevin MacDonald’s adaptation of The Eagle (2011).

The Eagle (2011)

If the interviews with Billy Connolly from last summer are still accurate, then we can expect Dáin Ironfoot to “have a Mohawk and tattoos on my head…I arrive riding a wild pig.” Sound familiar?

It should also be noted that as a Scot, Connolly himself is a Celt. In fact, many of the actors portraying dwarves in The Hobbit are of Celtic descent, and several were allowed to keep their respective accents. James Nesbit’s Bofur speaks in his Northern Irish brogue, and Graham McTavish’ Dwalin (who also bears war-paint like tattoos) sounds like the Scot he is. Aidan Turner, Kili, is an Irishman, Dean O’Gorman, playing his brother Fili, is a Kiwi of Irish descent, and Ken Stott (Balin) is another Scotsman.

As an interesting side note, belonging to the Order of Fili (wisemen and poets) was required for a warrior to enter Ireland’s elite Fenian ranks. Kili, similarly, could be argued as an alternate spelling/pronunciation of the common Irish surname Kelly, which means warrior (and is coincidentally why I was given my TORn nickname, since it is my birth name).  Naming the two youngest of Durin’s heirs names that invoke a warrior heritage makes sense, however, it is unknown if Tolkien was aware of these linguistic connections.

Any listener of The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey Special Edition soundtrack will know that the track “Erebor” begins with a proud bagpipe solo: a clear nod to the Scottish. Artist John Howe makes several references to Celtic inspiration in the first Hobbit Chronicles book, citing references to both Kili’s flip knife and Ori’s board game as being based on Celtic artifacts.

Even Celtic dress sounds similar to that of the dwarves: “In terms of clothing, the Celtic women wore a simple long garment with a cloak. The men wore trousers (sometimes knee length), a sleeved tunic reaching the thigh, a cloak, and sandals or boots. A metal piece of jewelry for around the neck called a torc (torques) was quite popular. Clothing dyed in bright colors was common. Men wore droopy mustaches, sometimes beards, and often long hair, all of this in contrast to the contemporary Romans.”

An artist’s rendition of male Celtic dress

However, the Celtic link to the dwarves in Tolkien’s writing isn’t as obvious as the Nordic influences, so why did the filmmakers take this route?

The easy answer is because it hasn’t been done yet. None of the races previously explored in Jackson’s Middle-earth had a Celtic slant, and identifying the dwarves with the proud warriors of the Celts distinguishes them as a race and culture apart from the rest, especially where the Picts are concerned.

The dwarves are from the north, just as Scotland is north of England, the nation that is conceivably Tolkien’s main inspiration for Middle-earth. More than any other race, Tolkien’s dwarves link their existence with the mountains, very much like Highlanders. Also like the Highlanders, Dáin and his people are renowned for their endurance, running for days to come to Thorin’s aid.

Similarly to the Dwarves, the land of the Picts was under constant threat. While such a military force may seem unimpressive by today’s standards, imagine yourself back at the dawn of the Common Era when the world was a much quieter place. The roar of a Roman cavalry charge echoing across the land like earthen thunder would have been much like the advance of Smaug. The armor of the legionnaires glinted in the sunlight like so many serpentine scales. Such a monstrous force was hitherto unknown to the indigenous Britons and was, understandably, often likened to a dragon.

Smaug the Terrible is very much a metaphor for warfare and greed. Just as the Roman invaders laid waste to villages and scattered tribal peoples, so did the dragon. The Romans modified Britain’s landscape and scoured the land for natural resources, just as Smaug scorched the earth and hoarded the treasure of the dwarves.

Scotland in the Roman era

The Picts, like Durin’s folk, stood strong against the Roman dragon and slaughtered entire legions and then some. Unable to subdue the northern tribes, Emperor Hadrian began construction on a massive wall to keep the tribes out of the fertile lands of England in 122 CE. This wall is known as Hadrian’s Wall and its remnants remain near the modern Scottish-English border. Had the dwarves ever turned on the race of Men, such a measure would have probably been taken!

Ruins of Hadrian’s Wall

Tolkien would have been well-aware of this history, and in fact, even his beloved Anglo-Saxons found the Celts to be formidable opponents. The Icelandic sagas written in the 13th century warn their people not to go to Scotland if they wished to live. One Scot in the saga, said to be Grjotgard, a kinsman of Melkolf (the king of Scotland), was quoted as saying to the Saxons: “You have two choices. You can go ashore and we will take all your property, or we’ll attack you and kill every man we lay our hands on.”

Given that the tale survives, it’s not difficult to tell which option the Icelandic warriors chose. It also isn’t difficult to imagine Thorin Oakenshield issuing such an ultimatum to invaders.

We must await the next two films to see what further Celtic traits will be shown through the dwarves. But as a Celt myself, I applaud Jackson and Weta’s decision to explore a facet of British culture that was previously understated in Tolkien.

Staffer Kili is one-half of the TORn Happy Hobbit crew. The views and opinions presented in this article are her own, and do not necessarily represent those of TheOneRing.net or its staff.

Azog the Defiler

In particular, he examines whether persistent criticism of this key villain might be a result of flaws inadvertently introduced by the relatively late switch from two films to three.

Did Azog defile An Unexpected Journey?

By Rud the Spud

Azog is an aspect of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey that has perturbed me for some time now.

Did he or didn’t he work in An Unexpected Journey? And, if not, was he the victim of the late change from two to three films?

I don’t know if it was the massive hype (which I’m glad there is less of for Desolation of Smaug), the huge expectations off the back of The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy or whether it was simply the basic love for the book itself, but I found An Unexpected Journey mildly disappointing.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it and I loved so many aspects of it but there remains an uneasy feeling that I’ve only recently been able to define.

And that is Azog.

AZOG IN THE TOLKIEN’S LEGENDARIUM

The Battle of Azanulbizar.

In Tolkien’s Legendarium, the Battle of Azanulbizar was fought in retaliation for this dishonour.

In An Unexpected Journey, the battle is condensed into Thrór’s large-scale attempt to retake Moria. It is during this battle that Azog decapitates him in the film. Events are altered: in the book it was Náin, father of Dáin Ironfoot, who Azog slew. And it was Dáin (who will be played by Billy Connolly in There and Back Again) who leapt after Azog and hewed off his head before Moria’s East Gate.

At Azanulbizar, Thorin did fight off several orcs with an oak branch, but Tolkien does not report that he went near Azog. But the upshot is that Azog was truly slain in the battle. He does not return; it is his son, Bolg, who nurses the grudge against Dáin and the dwarves. And it is Bolg who leads the wargs and goblins into the Battle of the Five Armies. Bolg’s role in the movies is yet to unfold.

The alteration of events for the sake of making a concise screenplay is understandable and acceptable. The filmmakers instead use the Azanulbizar to emphasise the heroism of our central character Thorin and establish back stories for Balin and Dwalin. Even the survival of Azog wasn’t a major issue for me initially. It was a little contrived how Thorin believed him to be dead (doesn’t he know how movies work?) but even that was acceptable.

It was the depiction of Azog that irks me the most.

Also, this weekend (Saturday August 24 at 6pm EDT (New York time)) we’ll be returning to our Lord of the Rings book chats. This week we begin the first chapter of book four — The Taming of Smeagol — so be sure to join us for this exciting topic!

On the Main board this week, Ethel Duath invited us all to create an anthem for the fictional country of Tolkenia.

Whilst in the Reading Room, noWizardme wants to know which Tolkien book character would you have lunch with, and why? 

The Hobbit board is buzzing over why we haven’t seen any major images of Bolg, Dain or Beorn (apart from the blurry Sonic Hedgehog image of Beorn and a toy of Bolg).

In Off Topic we’ve been checking up on our friends in the Wellington area after the big earthquake last week.

And in the Pollantir, Maciliel wants to know how many books we have in our personal libraries.

We’ll share more topics next week. We hope you’ll come and join in the conversations!  Don’t forget, TheOneRing.net’s message boards have over 9,950 registered Tolkien fans, just like you.  Let your voice be heard!

The intrepid reviewer has this to say about Professor Tolkien vs. Peter Jackson:

“The film was action-packed and satisfactory but it could not live up to the brilliance of the book.  [Tolkien's] pen brought to life the nature of the characters, giving each one a mind and attitude in our own brain. Never has a classic ever interested me this much, leaving the usual odd and repetitive topics of orphans or romance or death; and pulling me into a world of pure, dangerous adventure.”

This shining bit of enthusiasm reminds me something I have long held as a side-benefit of the blockbuster success of PJ’s films: if they are delighted by this filmic storytelling, you’ll find it more likely these young minds will be turned on to reading and the expansive world of literature.  And that entails a lifetime of enrichment and further education on all fronts.

Krazy Kesh, using a psuedonym as many of us do on the internet, is between 8 and 12 years old (I would guess closer to 12), and describes himself in rather hobbity terms saying:

“I am chubby with wit, tall with humour, broad with intelligence, polished in conduct, patriotic in gaming, high with responsibility.”

His review of Tolkien’s efforts seemed Déjà vu to me. I could have sworn there was a black cat in the matrix walking back and forth.

Back in 1935, the U.K. publishing house of George Allen & Unwin was looking at new children’s book submissions — and had just the right filter to ascertain what was most likely to succeed.  Sir Stanley Unwin handed a manuscript of Tolkien’s THE HOBBIT to his son, Rayner Unwin (who was only 10 at the time) and said “Have at it. Tell me what you think,” believing that children were the best barometer of children’s lit. He paid Rayner a shilling for every report he turned in on a potential book.

Rayner eagerly lapped up the story, and returned with a sincere report:

“Bilbo Baggins was a Hobbit who lived in his Hobbit hole and never went for adventures, at last Gandalf the wizard and his Dwarves persuaded him to go. He had a very exiting (sic) time fighting goblins and wargs. At last they get to the lonely mountain; Smaug, the dragon who guards it is killed and after a terrific battle with the goblins 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.”

Peter Jackson stands in front of a set as photographed by DGAQuarterly / Louise Hatton.

We call it a kitchen sink interview because it contains so much depth and covers a wide array of topics, touching on many of Jackson’s most important films while keeping in focus that his work on Middle-earth movies is so far, his greatest triumph and what he is most likely to be known for.

The Q&A with writer Jeffrey Ressner ranges over the Kiwi’s whole career with fascinating bits on his earliest days:

My first movie, Bad Taste, was really made up as we went along over four years, and it didn’t even have a script. Not having actors or a script tends to be somewhat limiting. [Laughs]

Jackson adds to the lore that surrounds the making of the “Lord of the Rings,” films with an amazing story about how his shooting studio in New Zealand came to be:

We thought, ‘Well, if The Lord of the Rings happens, this is exactly the sort of place we’d need. This is absolutely incredible.’ But it was very expensive. At the time it was just Fran and I, and if we committed to it and for some reason the film didn’t happen, we’d be in big, big trouble. I mean, we were mortgaging our house just to make the down payment on the place. One day the real estate agent was showing us around; the paint factory had been closed for six months, so it was mothballed and covered in dust. The cafeteria was dull and gray, and there were a lot of old Formica tables with chairs stuck up on top of them. Just before we left, I saw a paperback book sitting on one of the cafeteria tables—it was a copy of The Lord of the Rings. I called Fran over and pointed to it, and we looked at each other and then said to the guy, ‘OK, we’ll take it.’ And that became Stone Street Studios.

He also drops this gem that almost sent me back to my Blu-ray player:

I have to say, I saw a bit of my Kong about a year ago, and I actually think the last half-hour—those scenes in New York through the end of the Empire State Building sequence—is probably the piece of filmmaking of which I’m the proudest.

There is a lot more to this interview if you follow the link above. It may be one of the best Jackson interviews in print. We at TheOneRing have a good one in our pocket we hope to share before we see Smaug again in theaters, but this DGA piece is highly recommended.

If you missed the link, try this: http://www.dga.org/Craft/DGAQ/All-Articles/1303-Summer-2013/DGA-Interview-Peter-Jackson.aspx.

Q: Dear Everybody, I was just curious as to when it is Frodo’s and Bilbo’s birthday according to our calendar? I really enjoy your site, keep up the great work.

– Dan

A: Frodo and Bilbo shared their birthday on September 22^nd, as stated in “The Long-Expected Party.” The Hobbits called this month Halimath. The duration of the solar year for Middle-earth was the exact same as that of our Earth; namely 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, 45 seconds (see Tolkien’s note in The Return of the King, Appendix D, “Shire Calendar”). So we are basically measuring the same span of time but with a different enumeration of days. Small differences in each month’s duration make it a little tricky to compare the Shire Calendar to our Gregorian Calendar. We have months with 28, 30, or 31 days, but every Shire month is exactly 30 days. But look very closely, and you’ll see Tolkien added days like 1 Yule, 2 Yule, the Midyear’s Day, etc. It’s enough to cross your eyeballs!

I managed to do a simple overlay of our current year 2000 (which is a Leap Year here in the United States) with the Shire Calendar table. I added the Overlithe holiday the Hobbits would have used for their Leap Year (as we would add February 29^th) and counted forward to find the equivalent of Halimath 22^nd. It turns out Frodo and Bilbo’s birthday falls on the day we call September 23^rd… at least this Leap Year. Any other year it would fall on September 22^nd. But don’t ask me to calculate for the Chinese or Hebrew calendars, I claim no talent in mathematics!

- Quickbeam

Update!

I saw the question you answered about Frodo and Bilbo’s birthday in relation to our calendar, and looked it up in Appendix D. I noticed that it says that the hobbits’ Midyear’s Day corresponded to the summer solstice, making our New Year’s Day the hobbits’ January 9. Therefore, Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday would be September 12th (13th in leap years).

- David Massey

Interesting process of calculation, David! I am afraid I’ve spent too many years counting my own branches and little else, leaving me ill-equiped for higher forms of algebra.

- Quickbeam

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Q: I got a question in reference to the historic background Tolkien might or might not have used. In particular I was wondering about Gondor and Minas Tirith and if there was correlation between that and the Byzantine Empire. Especially since Byzantium was seen as sort of the last hope for Christianity in the east? Anyway, it seems logical to me, but I was wondering if there was any actual written evidence of a correlation there.

–John Simmons

A: To draw any specific correlation between the history of the imagined world of Middle-earth, and the history of Europe, invites problems—which is not to say that certain connections do not exist, but they are easily misinterpreted or over-analyzed. Treading softly in answer to this question, I note that Tolkien wrote in a letter that “the action of the story takes place in the North-west of ‘Middle-earth’, equivalent in latitude to the coastlands of Europe and the north shores of the Mediterranean… If Hobbiton and Rivendell are taken (as intended) to be at about the latitude of Oxford, then Minas Tirith, 600 miles south, is about at the latitude of Florence. The Mouths of Anduin and the ancient city of Pelargir are at about the latitude of ancient Troy… The progress of the tale ends in what is far more like the re-establishment of an effectively Holy Roman Empire with its seat in Rome.” (The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, p. 376). In Tolkien’s long letter to Milton Waldman (also in The Letters of JRRT), Tolkien explicitly makes a correlation of Gondor to Byzantium, writing that “in the south Gondor rises to a peak of power, al most reflecting Númenor, and then fades slowly to a decayed Middle Age, a kind of proud, venerable, but increasingly impotent Byzantium.” (p. 157).

- Turgon

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Q: Celeborn led the attack on Dol Guldur during the War of the Ring. Is there any book that describes this battle?
–Tim

A: The only account I find of this conflict is in The Return of the King, Appendix B, “The Tale of Years.” Look on page 375 to learn more of the force commanded by Celeborn and Galadriel. You can find further synopsis and a map with dates and movement of troops in The Atlas of Middle-earth by Karen Wynn Fonstad, on page 150, “Battles in the North.”

- Quickbeam

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Q: Since Elrond and Galadriel have great rings can they not perceive each other? Why then is the Fellowship not welcome in Lothlórien? Why the blindfolds and surprise to see Gimli? Can’t Elrond communicate this through the rings without sending messengers?

– Trevor Price

A: This is indeed a seeming paradox. Let’s take it one at a time. Firstly, about the Fellowship’s welcome in Lothlórien. If you read carefully, the Elves on the borders of Lórien, though at first suspicious, welcome the Company as graciously as they may and try to be courteous. They are willing to receive them and host them, though this is partly because Legolas is with them. They speak of Elrond’s messengers passing by Lórien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. These are the Elves, you remember, that Elrond sent out to scour the countryside for sign or news of the Black Riders before he would allow the Company to set out, so they were not sent expressly for the purpose of telling those in Lórien about the Company. Okay, to answer the next points about the blindfolds and the surprise to see Gimli, I’ll have to work backwards. Galadriel and Celeborn already knew who and what were each member of the company. But, the border guards didn’t. When they saw a dwarf, they followed the law of the land, which stated that he wouldn’t even be allowed to enter Lothlórien. It was only on the say-so of Aragorn and Legolas that they let him in at all, because they were simply following the rules and didn’t know how a dwarf would be received in the City of the Galadhrim. “A dwarf!” said Haldir. “That is not well… they are not permitted in our land. I cannot allow him to pass… very good… we will do this, though it is against our liking. If Aragorn and Legolas will guard him, and answer for him, he shall pass; but he must go blindfold through Lothlórien.” So you see, their information was incomplete, but later we see that Galadriel had full information. Elves come out the forest and bring messages to Haldir. “Also, they bring me a message from the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. You are all to walk free, even the dwarf Gimli. It seems that the Lady knows who and what is each member of your Company. New messages have come from Rivendell perhaps.” *Perhaps.* Haldir really didn’t know how the Lady got her information, he just knew enough to know that she knew there was a dwarf in her land and she was commanding that he be allowed to walk free. For all we know, these messages may have come through the power of the rings. But here’s another question to throw on the fire. Is it really the rings which convey the power of communicating with thought? Does Tolkien actually state that? The quote runs thusly: “Often long after the hobbits were wrapped in sleep they would sit together under the stars, recalling the ages that were gone and all their joys and labours in the world, or holding council, concerning the days to come. If any wanderer had chanced to pass, little would he have seen or heard, and it would have seemed to him only that he saw grey figures, carved in stone, memorials of forgotten things now lost in unpeopled lands. For they did not move or speak with mouth, looking from mind to mind; and only their shining eyes stirred and kindled as their thoughts went to and fro.” Keep in mind that we are not speaking only of Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel, but also of Celeborn, who did not hold a ring. So was this a power of the rings that came to Celeborn by extension through Galadriel, or was it a power of the Eldar and of Gandalf as a Maiar? Tolkien doesn’t really say. So while I’m sure they used messengers when it suited them, I’m also willing to bet that Galadriel and Elrond and Celeborn, between them, had other ways of communicating, and since Tolkien didn’t specify how she got her information, we don’t really know how Galadriel knew what was going on. Also, don’t forget that Lothlórien was built and defended largely with the power of Galadriel’s ring, and I suspect that she had power to see what was passing on the borders of her land, possibly in the Mirror. So she had many ways of gathering news, and we’re left not knowing whether the telepathy was a function of the rings or a function of the minds of Eldar and Maia.

- Anwyn

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Q: What happened to Legolas? Did he eventually go over the Sea like the others? And could Sam have also gone at some later date?

–Judith A. Sullivan

A: Yes, and yes. Return of the King states in various places what happened to each member of the Company and especially those who had earned the privilege of sailing over-sea. The Tale of Years states it the most concisely. The entry for Shire-year 1482 runs thusly: “Death of Mistress Rose, wife of Master Samwise, on Mid-year’s Day. He comes to the Tower Hills, and is last seen by Elanor, to whom he gives the Red Book afterwards kept by the Fairbairns. Among them the tradition is handed down from Elanor that Samwise passed the Towers, and went to the Grey Havens, and passed over Sea, last of the Ring-bearers.” So it is oral tradition and not documented fact, but it seems logical and likely. Tale of Years goes on, with the entry for 1484 speaking of the deaths of Eomer, Merry and Pippin, and then the entry for 1541: “In this year on March 1st came at last the Passing of King Elessar. It is said that the beds of Meriadoc and Peregrin were set beside the bed of the great king. Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.” So it is fact that Legolas went over Sea, and again oral tradition that Gimli went with him. In another place it is speculated that Galadriel remembered Gimli and obtained the grace for him to sail.

- Anwyn

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Q: Gandalf the Grey held Weathertop against 5 Black Riders. Later at Minas Tirith when he is Gandalf the White he concedes in discussions with Denethor that he may not be equal to the Witch-king. I realize that Gandalf using his power for defense only. However, he let the Witch-king break through the first level of Minas Tirith. How can these facts be reconciled?

–Trevor Price

A: Okay, my answer here has multiple points. (A) At Weathertop, the objective was for Gandalf not to be captured or killed, not for him to kill the Witch-King or any other Nazgûl. I think it is safe to say that even if Gandalf might or might not have killed a Nazgûl in single combat, he is capable of defending himself against five of them. (B) At Minas Tirith, it was not the Witch-king on his lonesome who broke through the first circle of the City, and as a matter of fact, they *didn’t* break through the first circle. They broke through the wall of the Pelennor, many miles from the City, and used catapults to throw what amounted to bombs and also human heads over the wall of the City and *into* the first circle. This doesn’t mean an enemy ever set foot into the city. Gandalf met the Witch-king in the Great Gate, after the battering-ram had done its work on the Gate itself. So you see, it was the power of Sauron’s armies that got them past the wall, over the fields, and on to break down the Gate. The Black Rider expected to ride right in through the Gate, obviously, but Gandalf was there to stop him. In the end, the sudden arrival of the Riders of Rohan made the Witch-king feel it was not the right time to continue to challenge the White Rider, and he “left the Gate and vanished.” So in neither of these cases was the objective of Gandalf the death of the Witch-king. He knew of the prophecy that not by the hand of man would he fall, and his objective was merely self- and City-preservation. He blocked the Rider’s entry into the Gate and he escaped Weathertop with his life.

- Anwyn

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Q: There is a question that has always bothered me since reading the Silmarillion. The great strength of Gondolin was its secrecy. That secrecy had long been preserved by the vigilance of the Eagles that kept a look out for Morgoth’s spies. The Eagles were sure enough of themselves to declare that if it were not for their watch, then long ago Gondolin would have been discovered. They were sharp enough to see and even recognize individuals such as Hurin after his release from Angband. What happened to the Eagles that were keeping watch on the borders of Gondolin when Morgoth’s army arrived? I understand that Turgon and the Gondolindrim had been warned by the Valar via Ulmo’s message given to Tuor and that Maeglin betrayed the location of the city to Morgoth. However, once that message that the city was not long to last was delivered and Maeglin’s treason accomplished, were the Eagles released from their watch on Gondolin? If the Eagles were at the bidding of Manwë did he know that they were not going to be able to keep guard and that is why he sent Tuor? I guess I just don’t understand how one minute no spy of Angband can get near the place unnoticed and the next a whole army of orcs, dragons, and balrogs gets to the city walls without any warning

The Silmarillion is the only account of the fall of Gondolin that I have read so it may be that I just haven’t heard the whole story. Whatever the reason, I wondered if you could help.

–Joe Roark

A: Tough-sounding question, but ultimately it might be a bit simpler than it appears. In other questions about the Eagles, we’ve established that they were indeed Manwë’s special servants, interfering little in human affairs except at dire need and when no other help was available, giving rise to the ‘deus ex machina’ comparison. Well and good. Now, take for a moment this theory: Small parties or individuals wandering around, vaguely looking for Gondolin but not really sure where to start, compared to an army which had been given specific instructions from somebody who knew exactly where to go. Am I making sense yet? I thought not. My supposition is that as long as the location wasn’t really known, but only guessed, it was still within Manwë’s jurisdiction (or within the Eagles’ as his representatives) to help protect it by somehow distracting or waylaying the ones who were looking for it, and also keeping Morgoth’s eyes from penetrating the place. But if once somebody took an active interest in betraying the location, it was not for Manwë (or his Eagles), to be able to interfere. What could they do? Pick out the eyes of an entire army? They couldn’t remove the knowledge from the minds of the enemies as to where Gondolin was hidden. Once the location became known, it was too late, there was nothing the Eagles could do. It might also be argued that the betrayal of Gondolin was Fate, foretold by Ulmo who told Turgon not to get too attached to his toys, because one day a messenger would come and that would be the sign that the fall was at hand. Turgon decided to stay and fight. Well and good, but now we’re getting into a whole realm of Fate vs. Free Will that I can’t even begin to address in this space. But I firmly believe that the Eagles were not permitted to interfere too freely in the affairs of Elves and Men, and that once an action was done by Maeglin, it could not be undone or even reasonably counteracted by the Eagles.

- Anwyn

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Maglor by ~spicedwinefanfic

Q: Maglor was left singing by the shore where he cast the Silmaril. So really he should still be there, or did something else happen to him????

–Tim

A: Maglor’s fate is recorded in The Silmarillion as follows: “And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves. For Maglor was mighty among the singers of old, named only after Daeron of Doriath; but he came never back among the people of the Elves.” (p. 254). In The Shaping of Middle-earth, Christopher Tolkien published a text of the “Annals of Beleriand”, and in a late addition to it, his father wrote “but Maithros perished and his Silmaril went into the bosom of the earth, and Maglor cast his into the sea, and wandered for ever on the shores of the world” (note 71, p. 313)

That’s really all that is recorded of his fate, and we can read into that whatever we please.

- Turgon

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Q: Why were the Nazgûl so afraid of, or at least able to be harmed by, water?

–Alex Hesser

Also

Q: Where can one find an account of the Witch-king of Angmar? I just finished The Silmarillion, but it glosses over the history of Arnor.

–Chris Nicholson

A: It is sometimes hard to find detailed information on the Nazgûl, or going by their elvish name, the Úlairi. You just need to know where to look. Pull out your copy of The Return of the King and read through those wonderful Appendices! The Professor wrote them for YOU, his faithful readers.

First look at Appendix A, Annals of the Kings and Rulers, Part I—”The Númenorean Kings,” and narrow it down to Sections (iii) and (iv). On page 320 begins an account of ‘The North-kingdom and the Dúnedain,’ which reveals fascinating details of the Men who were Aragorn’s ancestors and their strife with the Witch-king. On page 331 you’ll read of the climactic battle which joined Elves from the Grey Havens, a fleet of Men from Gondor, and skilled Hobbit archers from the Shire; all united in a last front against Angmar. Concise maps of the battle, which are very helpful, can be found in Karen Wynn Fonstad’s The Atlas of Middle-earth, pages 58-59.

As for the Nazgûl being harmed by water, I’m not certain that’s the case. Only magical blades laden with Elvish spells could do true harm to a Ringwraith. As Frodo attempted escape across the Ford of Bruinen, the Nine Riders were not afraid of the water itself… the Morgul-lord spurred his horse forward, the others following. Ordinary water would not hinder them but burning fire in the hands of an Elf-lord is a great deterrent! But remember Elrond commanded this river and it was certainly not ordinary; thus the brute force of his magic flood was strong enough to sweep them away.
- Quickbeam

Update!

Thanks to several readers who have a keen eye for Unfinished Tales. I would be remiss if I did not add more to my incomplete answer. Look in Part III—The Third Age, Section IV: “The Hunt for the Ring” wherein we learn from Christopher Tolkien that JRRT had drafted material about the Nazgûls’ fear of water but then finally made the concept less specific because it was problematic.

At the Ford of Bruinen only the Witch-king and two others, with the lure of the Ring straight before them, had dared to enter the river; the others were driven into it by Glorfindel and Aragorn.

and also:

My father nowhere explained the Ringwraiths’ fear of water… thus of the Rider seen on the far side of Bucklebury Ferry just after the Hobbits had crossed it is said that “he was well aware that the Ring had crossed the river; but the river was a barrier to his sense of its movement,” and that the Nazgûl would not touch the “Elvish” waters of the Branduin. But it is not made clear how they crossed other rivers that lay in their path, such as the Greyflood, where there was only “a dangerous ford formed by the ruins of the bridge.” My father did indeed note that the idea was difficult to sustain.

Here is what one reader had to say:

If you check out “The Hunt for the Ring” in Unfinished Tales, you will find a lot more about the Nazgûl’s fear of water (although it seems that ultimately Tolkien was going to give up the idea as being “difficult to maintain.”) Also, the idea of ghosts or spirits being unable to cross bodies of water is not an uncommon folk-tale motif. This section of Unfinished Tales has lots of good stuff on the Nazgûl, and the account of their arrival in Hobbiton the very day Frodo was setting out is absolutely fascinating (especially their encounters with Saruman, Wormtongue, and the “squint-eyed southerner” at Bree).

–Philip Covitz

Also on a separate note, some readers took issue with my point that “only magical blades laden with Elvish spells” could harm a Nazgûl. Consider the episode where Merry and Éowyn face the Lord of the Nazgûl and defeat him. One Hobbit using a Númenorean blade; one human woman using steel of the Mark. Neither are using Elvish blades yet they both seem to get the job done. This is true and sound logic, so let me modify my answer briefly: the most lethal implements against a Ringwraith would be those imbued with some greater skill or magic beyond common steel. Be it the magic of Elves or the high spirit of Númenor—it would be some component that upheld the legacy of Valinor and scorn for the works of Shadow. Merry had the proper instrument and delivered a blow breaking the spell of the Witch-king’s invulnerability. And Éowyn may have been wielding only a “regular sword” but the rules of the game had changed at that point. Éowyn’s role was to fulfill the prophecy, and being not a mortal man, she brought Fate full circle to the dreaded Morgul-lord.

- Quickbeam

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Q: Why were the Orcs so easily able to spot Frodo’s body lying in the passage of Cirith Ungol when he was wrapped in his elven cloak? It was dark in the passage and even accepting that Orcs have good night/dark vision, would their night vision surpass the excellent day vision of the Men of Rohan who passed the Three Hunters in good light on the plains of Rohan?

–The Grey Pilgrim

A: Consider how watchful the Orcs were from high up in the Tower. Frodo was running around shouting, with Sam yelling behind him… and in the battle with Shelob the Phial of Galadriel was blasting elf-light in all directions. There’s not an Orc anywhere who would have missed the commotion! Shagrat indicates that his boys were full witness to the “lights and shouting and all.” They knew exactly where to look at the mouth of the Lair.

Also recall it wasn’t a large, exposed space. The area just past the webbed tunnel exit was only 600 feet across measuring to the steps of the Cleft, maybe less. Where the two Orc troops converged, they found Frodo “Lying right in the road.” Maybe they didn’t see him right away, but with dozens of Orcs tramping about looking for further evidence in an enclosed space, they likely stumbled right over him.

- Quickbeam

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Q: Legolas and Gandalf (on Shadowfax) rode “elf-fashion” (without saddle or bridle), yet when Glorfindel lets Frodo ride his horse at the Ford, he “shortens the stirrups up to the saddle skirts”. The best I can figure is that since Glorfindel was riding to seek out Frodo and help him (possibly by fighting the Nazgûl) he rode out equipped for battle, and a saddle and bridle would make reasonable sense in that case. What are your opinions?

–Ed Bauza

A: In The Fellowship of the Ring, the first appearance of Glorfindel on the road is described as follows: “Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its bit and bridle flickered and flashed, as if it were studded with gems like living stars.” (page 221 of the first edition, 1954)

Later, Glorfindel tells Frodo: “You shall ride my horse. I will shorten the stirrups up to the saddle-skirts” (page 223).

In 1958, a reader of The Lord of the Rings asked Tolkien the following question: “Why is Glorfindel’s horse described as having a ‘bridle and bit’ when Elves ride without bit, bridle or saddle?”

Tolkien’s answer was as follows: “I could, I suppose, answer: ‘a trick-cyclist can ride a bicycle with handle-bars!’ But actually bridle was casually and carelessly used for what I suppose should have been called a headstall. Or rather, since bit was added (I 221) long ago (Chapter I 12 was written very early) I had not considered the natural ways of elves with animals. Glorfindel’s horse would have an ornamental headstall, carrying a plume, and with the straps studded with jewels and small bells; but Glor. would certainly not use a bit. I will change bridle and bit to headstall.” (The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, page 279)

In the second edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, the reading of “bridle and bit” was changed to “headstall” on page 221, but the reading on page 223 remains the same as in the original edition. So, for whatever reason, Glorfindel must have been riding with a saddle, even though that is not normally elf-fashion.

- Turgon

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Q: If Frodo was a little hobbit, how did the Ring always stay on his finger and never fall off? That goes for Bilbo too.

–Alex Hesser

A: The Ring had strange powers that we aren’t fully informed of, but one of the powers that we *are* told about was the ability to change its size. Gandalf is speaking to Frodo about the Ring: “Though he had found out that the thing needed looking after; it did not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded in an odd way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.” “Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter,” said Frodo, “so I have always kept it on its chain.” So that answers both questions: the Ring stayed on the finger if it was pleased to do so. You may remember also in The Hobbit how when Bilbo thought he was wearing the Ring, it suddenly wasn’t on his finger and he was seen by goblins. Also, there is the fact that Frodo never wore it much, and kept it on its chain, as he said.

- Anwyn

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Q: I have forgotten what became of the Seven Rings for the Dwarven lords. I am sure the answer to this question is fairly easy, but it has been quite a while since I really studied the books and I guess I have just gotten lazy.

–Jeremy Danford

A: When Gandalf entered Dol Guldur in 2845 (Third Age) and found Thrain imprisoned there, Thrain complained that “the last of the Seven” had been taken from him. The Rings of Power were forged in the middle of the Second Age. The ring that was possessed by Thrain was believed to have been the first of the Seven that was forged, and it was said that it was given to the King of Khazad-dum, Durin III. The possessors did not display their rings, nor speak of them, and the histories of the Dwarves do not detail the fate of each of the Seven. In “Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age”, a section published in The Silmarillion, it is written that the Dwarves “used their rings only for the getting of wealth; but wrath and an overmastering greed of gold were kindled in their hearts, of which evil enough after came to the profit of Sauron. It is said that the foundation of each of the Seven Hoards of the Dwarf-kings of old was a golden ring; but all those hoards long ago were plundered and the Dragons devoured them, and of the Seven Rings some were consumed in fire and some Sauron recovered.” (pages 288-289)
- Turgon

Update!

Rallas has written in with the following interesting comment: “Remember that in the text preceding the Council of Elrond where Frodo and Gimli are talking, Frodo asks what has brought the Dwarf so far from the Lonely Mountain, Gimli winks but defers further conversation till later. During the council he states that the messengers from the South had come a number of times to offer great wealth and precious things for information about Bilbo. In the “History of Middle-Earth” Tolkien’s writings clearly state that the precious things which were offered if the Dwarves could obtain the ‘trifle’ from Bilbo would be three rings as their forefathers had had of old. Sauron must have had at least three of the Dwarven rings in his possession.”
- Turgon

Update to the Update

Reader “Ban” brought up a good point about Rallas’s comment: “Pardon my nit-pickiness, but wasn’t it Gloin that Frodo was talking to before the Council? Gimli wasn’t introduced as Gloin’s son until everybody was introduced by Elrond.” Ban is absolutely correct–it was Gloin!

- Turgon

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Stars by Douglas Chaffee

Q: Why did Tolkien mention stars so much? I’ve heard that he had a love of astronomy, but there seems to be more in his mentioning of stars in almost all of his books than just his hobby. There seems to be some sort of symbolism in connecting the stars to the elves, but I just can’t seem to figure it out! Does anyone over at the Green Books or any other fan have any idea what stars are supposed to symbolize?

–The Dodger

A: Tolkien clearly had an immense love of the natural world, from flora and fauna to the orbs in the sky. In one sense, his entire mythology of Middle-earth is based upon looking at the natural world and presenting new “myths’ for why things are the way they are. His mythology began in the teens with a question of the meaning of a word in an Anglo-Saxon religious poem, “Crist” by Cynewulf: “Eala Earendel engla beorhtast / ofer middangeard monnum sended”. In English: “Hail Earendel, brightest of angels, above the middle-earth sent unto men.” Tolkien viewed that the word ‘Earendel’ had originally been a name for the evening star, or Venus, and Tolkien created the myth of Earendil, who sailed the heavens in a ship, bearing a Silmaril. The Silmarillion also contains Tolkien’s wonderful story of the creation of the Sun and the Moon from the last fruits of the Two Trees of Valinor. And the stars themselves were kindled by the Vala Varda, who was the spouse of Manwe and who was especially concerned with light. (Varda filled the lamps of the Valar with light, and set the courses in the sky of the Sun and Moon.) Varda was especially revered by the Elves, who first awoke in Middle-earth in the vale of Cuivienen, under the starlight of Varda. She was usually called Elbereth (Sindarin, ‘star-queen’). And that is basis of the internal symbolism connecting the Elves and the stars.
- Turgon

Update!

A reader (“VLT”) wrote in with some interesting observations: “There might be another simple reason why stars get so often mentioned in Tolkien’s books. In the past – especially for travellers – stars played very important role: they were used for orientation at night, to determine cardinal points, to tell the time…. Their movements announced seasonal changes (Nile´s flooding). Their behaviour and appearance were base for many myths, stories and tales, often of symbolical meaning. To sum it up, stars had much greater importance and significance in people´s lives in the past and this might be reflected in the books.”

- Turgon

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Q: Where did Ungoliant come from?

–Alex Hesser

A: The most information we get out of Tolkien concerning Ungoliant’s origins is found in The Silmarillion: “There, beneath the sheer walls of the mountains and the cold dark sea, the shadows were deepest and thickest in the world; and there in Avathar, secret and unknown, Ungoliant had made her abode. The Eldar knew not whence she came; but some have said that in ages long before she descended from the darkness that lies about Arda, when Melkor first looked down in envy upon the Kingdom of Manwë, and that in the beginning she was one of those that he corrupted to his service.” This tells me that she was likely a Maiar, who, like Sauron, was corrupted by Melkor. It goes on to say, however, that she soon ceased to serve Melkor, serving only herself and her great hunger, devouring everything she could eat, even light itself.

- Anwyn

NO two Tolkien fans are the same. Yes, we harbor a deep and abiding love for all things Middle-earth, but (I like to believe) our tastes differ, even if only in the minutia. Some may enjoy the philological phantasmagoria that permeates Tolkien’s works, while others draw inspiration from the detailed locations and their histories. Personally, I have a thing for maps. However with the recent addition of Tauriel to the Middle-earth mythos, my thoughts have been drawn to the characters that inhabit our collective imagination and, more specifically, those of the female gender.

Tolkien, unlike many other fantasy writers of the twentieth century, was entirely willing to create strong, vividly imagined female characters. One that immediately comes to mind is Lúthien Tinúviel, who was so prominent in Tolkien’s world that she is not only mentioned in The Lord of the Rings, but is also a major character in The Silmarillion and even features in the epic poem The Lay of Leithian.

The latter work, which Tolkien never completed, chronicles the love between Beren and Lúthien. Another well-known character from the Legendarium is Elwing the White*, mother of Elrond and Elros. How prominent was she? After several unsuccessful attempts by Eärendil the Mariner to try and sail to Valinor, Middle-earth’s most-renowned seaman was only successful after Elwing joined him on Vingilot.

The two most well-known heroines, thanks in no part to the films, are of course Arwen and Éowyn. Yes, Arwen’s romance with Aragorn did seem a tad campy on the big screen (in a beautiful, melancholic fashion that truly added to the story), but let’s not forget: this is the same elf who faced down the Nine (even if it didn’t happen in the books) and single-handedly saved Frodo from certain death. And Éowyn’s fantastic line, “I am no man!” when taunted by the Witch-king? It still raises the hairs on the back of my neck. So good. Also, I would be remiss to neglect Galadriel, of Lothlórien. Not only is she a Ring-bearer of immense power, but she also sits upon the predominantly male (even if the Mair aren’t technically Men) White Council.

So, where does this leave us? Ah, yes: Tauriel. As a Tolkien fan, I’m ecstatic to see a fresh addition to the lore. As someone who considers himself to be rather versed in the ways of the entertainment industry, I see it as a shameless attempt to attract the ever-elusive demographic of young women (insert Orlando Bloom joke here) and adolescent males (insert scantily clad bikini picture here). Honestly? If she’s anything more than a Disney princess in elf ears, I’ll be satisfied.

What I’m trying to say, in a less cynical fashion, is that I trust Peter and Fran, I really do. But I’m also aware of the climate in which they have to operate. Big money means a big emphasis on making a big profit, and a necessary part of show business is trying to target as many demographics as possible. Time and time again, we see corporations put pressure on directors and writers to change their movies in ways that reach a larger audience, but harm the overarching narrative.

Will Evangeline Lilly be fantastic? I’m sure she will. Will her and Orlando’s on-screen chemistry, and indeed their very presence, contribute to the overall narrative of the trilogy? I’m sure they’ll make it work. Is it necessary? I remain to be convinced, largely because I’ve seen how sterile and bureaucratic the industry can be.

In the best of all possible worlds, I see Tauriel as the embodiment of the inner strength and outward beauty of all the aforementioned characters. Why Tauriel? Because The Lord of Rings trilogy had its strong female protagonists, as did the Silmarillion and the Legendarium before it. Therefore, in the spirit of a more diverse, modern telling of The Hobbit, I see it as only natural that Jackson and company would want to introduce a fresh female character. In truth, the only part of me that is uneasy is the fervently cynical, text-obsessed fanboy who’s shaking the bars of his cage and muttering, “but she’s not in the book!”

Until more elements of the plot are revealed, Tauriel remains a positive yet potentially unnecessary addition to Peter Jackson’s cinematic vision. In the end it all boils down to the spirit in which these changes are made to the source material. Who knows? I could be completely off the mark. When it comes to the Hobbit films I’ve yet to be disappointed.

In Jackson we trust.

* Bootnote. Most would automatically think of Aredhel with the appellation “the White”. However, there is one single reference that seems to indicate that the label also applied to Elwing. It’s from The Fellowship of the Ring where Aragorn is speaking to the four hobbits of Beren and Lúthien. As it’s direct speech, it does seem to be part of an oral tradition of either the Dunedain, or of the Noldor (or both). The quote in full: “For of Beren and Lúthien was born Dior Thingol’s heir; and of him Elwing the White whom Eärendil wedded, he that sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril upon his brow. And of Eärendil came the Kings of Númenor, that is Westernesse.” A Knife in the Dark, The Fellowship of the Ring.

Noah Smith is a freelance writer operating out of the woods of Pennsylvania, though he leaves often and for great lengths of time. The proud owner of more pet projects than any sane person deserves, he peddles his craft in various portions of the internet and local collegiate magazines, writing poetry, commentary, speculative fiction and erroneous remarks in the comment sections of videos. He writes on a blog called Utumbria and can also be found on Twitter. His opinions do not necessarily reflect those of TheOneRing.net or its staff.

Q: Gandalf and the other wizards were obviously powerful Maiar sent to protect Middle Earth. If Tom Bombadil is a lesser Maiar, then why was Tom completely unaffected by the ring when he placed it on his finger, Tom didn’t even disappear. When Gandalf was offered the ring he refused saying that the power would corrupt him as any other. I hope you can explain this to me. I don’t think it’s because Tom Bombadil didn’t want power so he was unaffected, because Gandalf was just as uninterested in power as Tom. Thank you.

- The Dunedain

A: It seems more plausible that Tom Bombadil was uninterested in the kind of power that the Ring conveyed. Tom also clearly had his own boundaries, at least geographically, for when he takes leave of the hobbits he says “Tom’s country ends here: he will not pass the borders”. If Tom would have been persuaded to take the Ring, it would, over time and in the end, have worked its power upon him and corrupted him. But for the short time of its passage through his own country, it seems not to have affected him, and within the boundaries of his own realm, Tom seems certainly to have been Master.

- Turgon

Update!

A few people have written in questioning whether Tom Bombadil might not actually be Eru. Truly, there are no hints of this in Tolkien’s writings, and I think that such a Twilight-Zone styled twist would be uncharacteristic of him. Also, in view of Tolkien’s devotion to his Catholicism, and in light of his extensive rationalization of “sub-creation” in his famous essay “On Fairy-Stories”, I just don’t think his mind worked that way. But that’s only my view.
- Turgon

Update to Update!

One reader wrote in to point out a few passages in Letters where Tolkien states explicitly that, in Middle-earth, “there is no embodiment of the One, of God, who indeed remains remote, outside of the World, and only directly accessible to the Valar or Rulers”. These statements rule out the possibility that Tom Bombadil might be Eru.

Another theory that has been proposed is that Tom Bombadil is Aule. For more on this, see the essay by Gene Hargrove at: http://www.cas.unt.edu/~hargrove/bombadil.html

(Personally, I don’t find this argument convincing, but the possibility is intriguing.)

- Turgon

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Ted Nasmith – Luthien’s Lament Before Mandos

Q: In “Unfinished Tales,” reference is made to “The Second Prophecy of Mandos.” This foretells the Dagor Dagorath, the final battle against Melkor that will end the world (a la Ragnarok, Armageddon). But except for that tidbit, the Second Prophecy is a throwaway reference. So I’m asking–when did Mandos make this prophecy? Where and under what circumstances? What mortal ears heard it? And what, exactly, does it prophecy? Is there more to it? The First Prophecy (which I’m assuming refers to the Doom cast on the Noldor as they were high-tailin’ it out of Aman) was pretty specific and wide-ranging. The Second must be more substantial than simply, “There’s gonna be a big fight with Morgoth”.

-The Prankster

A: The reference in Unfinished Tales comes from a passage quoted in the section on “The Istari”, and reads as follows: “Manwe will not descend from the Mountain until the Dagor Dagorath, and the Coming of the End, when Melkor returns” (p. 395). Christopher Tolkien has footnoted this to read: “This is a reference to ‘the Second Prophecy of Mandos’, which does not appear in The Silmarillion; its elucidation cannot be attempted here, since it would require some account of the history of the mythology in relation to the published version.” (footnote 8, p. 402).

Unfinished Tales came out in 1980, and fortunately, with the publication in 1986 of volume four of The History of Middle-earth, entitled The Shaping of Middle-earth, we can understand much more about the Second Prophecy of Mandos. It appears in this volume in two forms, in the earliest ‘Silmarillion’, the ‘Sketch of the Mythology’ as written for Tolkien’s former teacher R. W. Reynolds around 1926, and in the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ proper, written around 1930. For the version from the earliest ‘Silmarillion’, see section 19, pp. 40-1 of The Shaping of Middle-earth. The second version, from which I give some extracts below, can be found in full in section 19 , pp. 163-5 of the same volume:

“After the triumph of the Gods, Earendel sailed still in the seas of heaven, but the Sun scorched him and the Moon hunted him in the sky . . . Then the Valar drew his white ship Wingelot over the land of Valinor, and they filled it with radiance and hallowed it, and launched it through the Door of Night. And long Earendel set sail into the starless vast, Elwing at his side, the Silmaril upon his brow, voyaging the Dark behind the world, a glimmering and fugitive star. And ever and anon he returns and shines behind the courses of the Sun and Moon above the ramparts of the Gods, brighter than all other stars, the mariner of the sky, keeping watch against Morgoth upon the confines of the world. Thus shall he sail until he sees the Last Battle fought upon the plains of Valinor.

“Thus spake the prophecy of Mandos, which he declared in Valmar at the judgement of the Gods, and the rumour of it was whispered among all the Elves of the West: when the world is old and the Powers grow weary, then Morgoth shall come back through the Door out of the Timeless Night; and he shall destroy the Sun and the Moon, but Earendel shall come upon him as a white flame and drive him from the airs. Then shall the last battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor. In that day Tulkas shall strive with Melko, and on his right shall stand Fionwe and on his left Turin Turambar, son of Hurin, Conqueror of Fate; and it shall be the black sword of Turin that deals unto Melko his death and final end; and so shall the Children of Hurin and all men be avenged.

“Thereafter shall the Silmarils be recovered out of sea and earth and air; for Earendil shall descend and yield up that flame that he hath had in keeping. Then Feanor shall bear the Three and yield their fire to rekindle the Two Trees, and a great light shall come forth; and the Mountains of Valinor shall be levelled, so that the light goes out over all the world. In that light the Gods will again grow young, and the Elves awake and all their dead arise, and the purpose of Iluvatar be fulfilled concerning them. But of Men in that day the prophecy speaks not, save of Turin only, and him it names among the Gods.”

- Turgon

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Q: Back a while ago (before the internet) I remember seeing a piece written where someone was arguing that Tolkien elves were actually taller than humans. I don’t remember where it was but that doesn’t matter now. Is there any actual mention in any of the books or professor Tolkien’s letters about this? Or are elves really shorter as is shown in just about every picture painted of the Fellowship (i.e. Legolas and the humans)? If they are shorter, how do the half-elves (Elrond and Aragorn’s line) all end up being generally bigger than other humans?

-Mark Ervin

A: The cheating answer is to use Robert Foster’s Complete Guide to Middle-earth and cite his entry for Elves, in which he writes, “Elves were the fairest of all earthly creatures, and resembled the Ainur in spirit. They were about six feet tall and somewhat slender…”. But the real challenge is to find where in Tolkien that Foster found this information. In The Lord of the Rings, the first meeting with an Elf occurs in Book I , Chapter 3, “Three Is Company”, where the hobbits encounter Gildor and his party of elves in the Shire. As the hobbits are marching along with them, Pippin begins to stagger, “but each time a tall Elf at his side put out his arm and saved him from a fall”. Later in The Fellowship of the Ring, in Book II, Chapter 7, “The Mirror of Galadriel”, when the fellowship meets Celeborn and Galadriel, they are described as follows: “Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord”. I’m sure that there are other similar references scattered throughout the books. The earliest mention chronologically within Tolkien’s life that I can find about the stature of Elves comes from Tolkien’s early poetry, c. 1915, in which the Elves were conceived with a diminutive stature. But, as Christopher Tolkien notes in The Book of Lost Tales, Part One, “All the ‘elfin’ diminutiveness soon disappeared” (p. 32). And in the prose narrative of The Book of Lost Tales (written c. 1917-20) there is some confusion as to whether Men or Elves were of a greater stature, but they are certainly seen to be of a similar size. One added note by Tolkien states that “Men were almost of a stature at first with Elves, the fairies being far greater and Men smaller than now.” (p. 235) Tolkien seems to have regarded Men and Elves to be of a similar size for the rest of his life.

- Turgon

Update!

Vladimir Lukic sent in a bunch of interesting observations, pointing out that there are some really fascinating comments in Tolkien’s notes on “Numenorean Linear Measures,” published inUnfinished Tales (pp. 285-287). Tolkien writes of the unit of measurement “ranga” that “two rangar was often called ‘man-high’, which at thirty-eight inches gives an average height of six feet four inches; but this was at a later date, when the stature of the Dunedain appears to have decreased. . . . Elendil was said to be ‘more than man-high by nearly half a ranga’; but he was accounted the tallest of all the Numenoreans who escaped the Downfall. The Eldar of the Elder Days were also very tall. Galadriel, ‘the tallest of all the women of the Eldar of whom tales tell’, was said to be man-high, but it is noted ‘according to the measure of the Dunedain and the men of old’, indicating a height of about six feet four inches.”

- Turgon

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Q: At the Doors of Durin, what is Gandalf referring to when he says that Merry of all people was on the right track about the proper words to open the gates? I can’t see that Merry says anything very profound.

-Dr.Joe

A: Gandalf read the elf-letters on the Doors of Durin as follows:

“The words are in the elven-tongue of the West of Middle-earth in the Elder Days,” answered Gandalf. ‘But they do not say anything of importance to us. They say only: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.”

“What does it mean by speak, friend, and enter?” asked Merry.

“That is plain enough,” said Gimli. “If you are a friend, speak the password, and the doors will open, and you can enter.” (The Fellowship of the Ring, p.318)

Merry’s observation was not very profound, but he was at least questioning the odd phrasing of “speak, friend, and enter”, and its meaning. The phrasing proved to be the key to opening the door, as Gandalf soon figured out. The translation should have been “Say ‘friend’ and enter”, and Gandalf merely had to say the Elvish word for ‘friend’, mellon, and the doors opened.

- Turgon

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Q: What do you know of the theory that the hero in C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy is actually a thinly discussed characterization of Prof. Tolkien?

A: Tolkien himself felt that Ransom (at least in the first two books of the so-called Space Trilogy, Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra) resembled himself in superficial ways. In a letter to Stanley Unwin of 18 February 1938, Tolkien wrote about the Ransom in Out of the Silent Planet as being the hero who “is a philologist (one point in which he resembles me) ” (Letters, no. 24). But in a letter to Christopher Tolkien of 31 July 1944, Tolkien mentions that his daughter Priscilla has “just read Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra; and with good taste preferred the latter. But she finds it hard to realise that Ransom is not meant to be a portrait of me (though as a philologist I may have some part in him, and recognize some of my opinions and ideas Lewisified in him)” (Letters, no. 77).

So it seems at least some elements of Tolkien ended up in the character Ransom, but I doubt that Lewis himself intended the character to be in any sense a ‘real’ portrait of his friend. The relevance of real people to fictional characters is always a difficult issue, as the characters tend to grow to meet the needs of the story, taking on a life of their own, and then they become something other than that which they might have started out being. As anyone who has ever read the third volume of the trilogy will tell you, That Hideous Strength is rather a different book than the first two. It certainly grew and evolved in ways to match the changes in Lewis’ own life during the time of its writing, and it shows the considerable influence of Charles Williams, whom Lewis did not know particularly well when he wrote the first volume. So things evolve, and things change.

- Turgon

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Q: So how is Glorfindel an Elf-Lord? The Glorfindel that crossed over with the Noldor in Silmarillion fell in battle with a Balrog while escaping Gondolin. And the Noldor are the only elves who crossed over, weren’t they? The only thing I can think of is the possibility that Glorfindel was a descendant of Thingol, who of course made the initial trip to Valimar and then didn’t make it back the second time around. Also, since Thingol married well (to say the least), all of his descendants could be considered Elf-Lords, I guess. But is there anything in writing that supports the idea of Glorfindel being a descendant of Thingol?

-Tom Phillips

A: This questions ties into the whole problem of whether the Glorfindel of The Silmarillion, who was killed in a fight with a Balrog in Gondolin, is the same Glorfindel as is found in The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien himself considered this, and wrote a few fascinating short essays, which are printed in The Peoples of Middle-earth, pp. 377-82. I recommend that anyone interested in this very curious matter seek them out.

In one of these pieces Tolkien himself interprets a small passage in The Fellowship of the Ring (from p. 235) as pertaining to Glorfindel (when the passage itself doesn’t necessarily have to refer to him). Tolkien writes that Glorfindel “is said to have been one of the ‘lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas … who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm.’.” [p. 379 of The Peoples of Middle-earth; the ellipses are Tolkien's] This would rule out Glorfindel being Sindarin (and thereby ruling out the possibility that he is a descendant of Thingol).

Though it remains problematical, one nearly has to come to the conclusion that the Glorfindel of The Silmarillion, slain in the Fall of Gondolin, was indeed reborn in Aman and allowed to return to Middle-earth, where he had a role to play in the War of the Ring, as is narrated in The Lord of the Rings.

- Turgon

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‘Turin Turambar’ by Dovile Tarutyte

Q: More out of curiosity then an attempt to stump…..how is it that the sword of Turin, Gurtholfin, was able to speak? What other details of this artifact can you guys did up?

-Tookish

A: Turin’s sword was named Gurtholfin, ‘Wand of Death’, in The Book of Lost Tales. In later writings, particularly in the published Silmarillion and in the “Narn i Hin Hurin” in Unfinished Tales, it was called Gurthang, or ‘Iron of Death’. It was named thus after it was reforged in Nargothrond from Anglachel, the sword of Beleg. The Silmarillion describes it being “though ever black its edges shone with pale fire”. And Turin’s use of it on the Guarded Plain made him known as Mormegil, the Black Sword.

To turn back to The Book of Lost Tales, it is described therein as follows: “It was made by magic to be utterly black save at its edges, and those were shining bright and sharp as but Gnome-steel may be. Heavy it was, and was sheathed in black, and it hung from a sable belt, and Turin named it Gurtholfin the Wand of Death; and often that blade leapt in his hand of its own lust, and it is said that at times it spake dark words to him” (The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two, p. 83).

The important passage where the sword itself speaks is found first in The Book of Lost Tales, and later in revised forms in the “Narn i Hin Hurin” and in The Silmarillion. I quote from the latter:

“There he [Turin] drew forth his sword, that now alone remained to him of all his possessions, and he said: ‘Hail Gurthang! No lord or loyalty dost thou know, save the hand that wieldeth thee. From no blood wilt thou shrink. Wilt thou therefore take Turin Turambar, wilt thou slay me swiftly?’

“And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: ‘Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly.’” (p. 225)

Within the world of Middle-earth it is indeed odd for a sword to speak. There are some instances of animals speaking (I am thinking here of Huan in The Silmarillion, of the eagles and spiders and ravens in The Hobbit, and then there is that curious fox in The Lord of the Rings who passes the hobbits sleeping out in the Shire, in Book 1 Chapter 3, and “thinks” for a few sentences…), but the speaking inanimate object seems very unusual. I don’t really have a good answer for this within the world of Middle-earth itself, unless, for some reason the Valar permitted the sword to speak (or spoke through it), but that seems to be interpreting too far.

There is a more reasonable answer to this question, which comes from Tolkien’s own sources. As an undergraduate, Tolkien had become enamoured with the Finnish epic Kalevala, in the W. F. Kirby translation. The Kalevala includes the story of the hapless Kullervo, whose basic story resembles Turin’s very closely. (In fact, Tolkien himself wrote a verse-version of “The Story of Kullervo” in 1914, but this has never been published.) In both stories, Kullervo and Turin, after similar upbringings, fall in love unknowingly with their own sisters, and when the sisters learn of their incest, they drown themselves. Kullervo, like Turin, seeks release from his life from his sword, asking it if it will drink his blood. Kullervo’s sword answers very similarly, and takes its master’s life in an identical manner. The following quotation comes from the W. F. Kirby translation of the Kalevala:

Kullervo, Kalervo’s offspring
Grasped the sharpened sword he carried,
Looked upon the sword and turned it,
And he questioned it and asked it,
And he asked the sword’s opinion,
If it was disposed to slay him,
To devour his guilty body,
And his evil blood to swallow.
Understood the sword his meaning,
Understood the hero’s question,
And it answered him as follows:
“Wherefore at thy heart’s desire
Should I not thy flesh devour,
And drink up thy blood so evil?
I who guiltless flesh have eaten,
Drank the blood of those who sinned not?”
Kullervo, Kalervo’s offspring,
With the very bluest stockings,
On the ground the haft set firmly,
On the heath the hilt pressed tightly,
Turned the point against his bosom,
And upon the point he threw him,
Thus he found the death he sought for,
Cast himself into destruction.

- Turgon

Update!

A reader who signed himself “The Blacksword” provided some additional, very interesting insights into the question of Turin’s speaking sword:

“The answer comes from within Middle Earth. In The Silmarillion, there is a passage in [Chapter 21] ‘Of Turin Turambar’ which may provide some insight as to how the Gurthang spoke. It is as follows, ‘Then Beleg chose Anglachel; and that was a sword of great worth and it was so named because it was made of iron that fell from heaven as a blazing star. . . . and that smith was Eol the dark elf. . . . He gave Anglachel to Thingol as a fee, which he begrudged, for leave to dwell in Nan Emloth.’ [p. 201-2] And later, ‘But as Thingol turned the hilt of Anglachel towards Beleg, Melian looked at the blade; and she said: “There is malice in this sword. The dark heart of the smith still dwells in it. It will not love the hand it serves.”‘ [p. 202]

“Gurthang is Anglachel after it was reforged. At this time we know that Eol is slain, in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad Maeglin fought beside Turgon, and Eol his father was cast from Caragdur only a few days after Maeglin arrived in Gondolin. Turin was a boy when Hurin went off to that battle. There are instances in Middle Earth where spirits inhabit places; the Barrow-wights, the Dead men of Dunharrow, the Dead Marshes, Caradhras, I am sure there are more examples. I can’t think of any examples of elven spirits inhabiting objects, however, one could argue that the spirit of Sauron inhabited The Ring. . . . The conclusion is that the spirit of Eol was within the sword, and that was how it spoke. Perhaps the strange origin of the iron also made it possible for the sword to be ‘possessed.’”

Thanks for writing in and sharing these insights.

-Turgon

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Q: Did the Decline of the Elves (in the Fourth Age) also affected the Dwarves? Did they ever went back to live in Moria? What’s the story around that place where Durin used to go, at Moria’s top, that Gimli tells us about?

thanks from Buenos Aires
–Juan Pablo Pasini

A: In The Peoples of Middle-earth, Christopher Tolkien quotes a short passage from an earlier version of the Tale of Years (Appendix B in The Lord of the Rings) in which his father wrote: “The Fourth Age ushered in the Dominion of Men and the decline of all the other ‘speaking-folk’ of the Westlands” (p. 172). In another passage from the same volume Christopher quotes from a version of “Durin’s Folk” (a section of Appendix A in The Lord of the Rings) the following statement concerning the re-population of Moria in the Fourth Age: “And the line of Dain prospered, and the wealth and renown of the kingship was renewed, until there arose again for the last time an heir of that House that bore the name of Durin, and he returned to Moria; and there was light again in deep places, and the ringing of hammers and the harping of harps, until the world grew old and the Dwarves failed and the days of Durin’s race were ended.” (p. 278). Christopher Tolkien notes that while none of this is mentioned in The Lord of the Rings proper, “Durin VII and Last” is mentioned in the genealogical table accompanying the “Durin’s Folk” portion of Appendix A in The Lord of the Rings.

As to your third question, I think you mean Durin’s Tower, which was “carved in the living rock of Zirakzigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine.” (The Two Towers, p. 105) This was at the very top of the Endless Stair, which ran from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak of Khazad-dum, and which Gimli said had long been lost, if it ever existed. Unfortunately, aside from this brief reference, I find no other significant mention of it.

- Turgon

Update!

A few readers have pointed out that Gandalf chased the Balrog up the Endless Stair, during their long struggle. And they came out at last through Durin’s Tower, “carved in the living rock of Zirakzigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine.” (The Two Towers, page 105) In their struggle, Durin’s Tower was destroyed, and the stair ruined.
- Turgon

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Amroth by Olga Kukhtenkova

Q: I thought that there were only three marriages between men and elves: Luthien and Beren, Idril and Tuor and Aragorn and Arwen. But in “The Return of the King” at the beginning of chapter IX Legolas meets with prince Imrahil and he saw “that there indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins”. So do other unknown marriages between the two races exist?

- Cathy

A: The reference you sight reads more fully: “At length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins. ‘Hail, lord!’ he said. ‘It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lorien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth’s haven west over water.” (p. 148, The Return of the King).

Amroth was a Silvan Elf (of the early Third Age), and thus not among the Eldar; Amroth founded the port of Dol Amroth in Belfalas, in the south of Gondor. Imrahil was, at the time of The Lord of the Rings, the Prince of Dol Amroth, and of Numenorean descent. The elvish blood in his ancestry came from a marriage between a Silvan Elf and a human, not between an Elda and a human. The famous three marriages between Elves and Men are actually counted as being marriages between Elves of the Eldar and Men. Thus any number of uncounted marriages could have happened between Silvan Elves and Men.

- Turgon

Update!

Mithrigil has written in and further clarified my point: “In reference to the “Imrahil” question, the marriages in question were between the Eldar and Edain. As far as I know, the Eldar never gave such a thought to any lesser men.”
- Turgon

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Q: What is the Gray Havens and what is its importance?

A: The Grey Havens was the coastal town and harbor founded by Cirdan at the beginning of the Second Age of Middle-earth. Cirdan held one of the Three Elven rings, Narya the Ring of Fire, which he gave to Gandalf upon his arrival in Middle-earth around the year 1000 of the Third Age. It was a stronghold for the Elves throughout the Second and Third Ages, and even into the Fourth Age. It was symbolically as well as physically the connecting point between the Valar in Valinor and the peoples of Middle-earth. By sailing from the Grey Havens, the Elves could find the straight road to Valinor after Valinor had been removed from the circles of the world, and the seas had been bent.

- Turgon

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Q: I have a question for which I personally have 2 theories, but was wondering what “the experts” have to say. In re-reading the Prologue to Fellowship, I noticed that Tolkien refers to the party in the Hobbit getting wailaid by orcs, and Bilbo getting lost in orc caves, and Gollum eating orcs and so on. In The Hobbit, Tolkien calls them goblins. What’s the reason for this? My theories are these: 1) Blatant inconsistency (as much as I hate to even say it); 2) Tolkien uses the words interchangeably — goblins for a younger, less fantasy educated audience and orcs for a more mature fantasy audience. People who do not read fantasy would most likely not recognize orcs, whereas goblins and trolls would most likely be understood as “evil monsters.” Perhaps it’s neither. Please give me your insight with perhaps a more literate answer. I’d appreciate your time.

- Matt Creelman

A: Your answer number two pretty much captures my thoughts. In a letter dated 18 September 1954, Tolkien wrote to Hugh Brogan: “Your preference of goblins to orcs involves a large question, and a matter of taste, and perhaps historical pedantry on my part. Personally I prefer Orcs (since these creatures are not ‘goblins’, not even the goblins of George MacDonald, which they do to some extent resemble).” (Letters, no. 151). In an earlier letter to Naomi Mitchison, dated 25 April 1954, Tolkien had mentioned that his orcs “owe, I suppose, a good deal to the goblin tradition (goblin is used as a translation in The Hobbit, where orc only occurs once, I think), especially as it appears in George MacDonald, except for the soft feet which I never believed in.” (Letters, no. 144). Tolkien’s references to George MacDonald refer to MacDonald’s children’s books, The Princess and the Goblin (1872), and its sequel, The Princess and Curdie (1883).

- Turgon

Update!

Lee Waldman wrote in with a very pertinent comment: “It is important to note that Thorin Oakensheild’s sword was called Orcrist or goblin-cleaver by the elves of Gondolin who forged it. This suggests that Tolkien meant for the words to be interchangeable.”

- Turgon

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Q: Perhaps Turgon would be best suited to answer this, as I suspect this would fall into his realm of expertise. Regarding the Hidden City of Gondolin (for whose story I confess a certain interest in)… there are several mentions of the Seven Names for the city within the body of Tolkien’s writings. However, in my readings I have not found out what these seven names actually were. They are not spoken of in either The Silmarillion or Unfinished Tales, although I recently found two in the section on the Fall of Gondolin which I believe was in the Book of Lost Tales 2. One of these was “Gondobar”, though the other one escapes me at the moment. There is the Sindarin Gondolin, which of course means “hidden rock”, and the Quenya Ondolinde, meaning “rock of the music of water”. I do not believe that these names actually count among the seven, though. Perhaps someone with greater familiarity with the History of Middle Earth series, and/or other “sources” can find out what Tolkien originally had in mind for these names (doubtless in the early days of the conception of the Quenta Silmarillion, since it never made the final drafts). Or maybe it’s just one of those things that only Christopher knows for sure.

- Dan Fernandez

A: Asking me about my own domain, eh? Well, here’s the answer…

In “The Fall of Gondolin” in The Book of Lost Tales, Part Two, Tuor asks your very question (“What be those names?” ) to the chief of the Guard of the Gondothlim. The answer is given as follows: “‘Tis said and ’tis sung: ‘Gondobar am I called, and Gondothlimbar, City of Stone and City of the Dwellers in Stone; Gondolin the Stone of Song and Gwarestrin am I named, the Tower of Guard, Gar Thurion or the Secret Place, for I am hidden from the eyes of Melko; but they who love me most greatly call me Loth, for like a flower I am, even Lothengriol the flower that blooms on the plain.’” (p. 158) In The Lays of Beleriand, Christopher Tolkien gives some information about the poem “The Lay of the Fall of Gondolin”, in which one of the seven names of Gondolin differs slightly: “Loth-a-ladwen, the Lily of the Plain” is given by the Guard instead of Lothengriol. (see p. 149).

- Turgon

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