Tolkien - Blog Posts
One of the ballsiest things Tolkien ever did was write 473k words about some hobbits called frodo, sam, merry, and pippin and then write in the appendices that their names are actually maura, ban, kali, and razal.
[I. D.: a tweet by KeithPille.bsky.social on July 16, 2024 reading, “Worth thinking about how long Tolkien goes on in Return of the King about despair being a weapon, and presenting defeat as a forgone conclusion being a deliberate and effective tactic”]
not even JRR Tolkien, who famously developed the concept of the Secondary World and firmly believed that no trace of the Real World should be evoked in the fictional world, was able to remove potatoes from his literature. this is a man who developed whole languages and mythologies for his literary world, who justified its existence in English as a translation* simply because he was so miffed he couldn't get away with making the story fully alien to the real world. and not even he, in extremis, was so cruel as to deny his characters the heavenly potato. could not even conceive a universe devoid of the potato. such is its impact. everyone please take a moment to say thank you to South Americans for developing and cultivating one of earth's finest vegetables. the potato IS all that. literally world-changing food. bless.
Too much praying directly to the Valar and not enough praying to their Maiar for their intercession
Establish dominance by declaring an Elf a “Man-friend” before they declare you an “Elf-friend”
You know those edits that are like "(fandom) + Greek words for love" usually being Eros, Ludus, Storge, Mania, Pragma, Philia and Agape?
Why oh why has no one done an edit that is like "Sons of Feanor + completely fucked up ideas about love"? I feel like this could be done
Thinking about a re-embodied Maeglin looking up at the night sky and realising that it contains a star he never saw before he died. And one day he asks about it and hears how it's Eärendil and how he ended up up there
One thing in Lord of the Rings I’ve found extremely relatable lately is how the hobbits react to apocalyptic horrors by focusing on the mundane details of their day.
“Looks like we’re on a hopeless journey into Hell in the middle of a world-ending event where everything we know and love will be destroyed. What are we going to have for breakfast today, Mr Frodo? :D”
Concerning Hobbits (of Color)
Okay it’s been a whole day and I’m still angry about that hobbit casting thing, so let’s lay down some Tolkien canon here.
Fact 1: Per Tolkien, there were originally three races of hobbit. The Stoors were a small group, they were broad and stocky, they grew facial hair, they liked rivers, and their skin color is not specified, so Tolkien probably meant them to be white (but there’s no reason they have to be, since again, not specified). The Fallohides were a tiny group, they were thin, pale and tall, they were bold and good with languages, and they like trees. The Harfoots were the distinct majority, they lived in holes, they had hairy feet, and they were brown. Tolkien is super clear on this. He explicitly calls out Harfoots as having browner skin than other hobbits when describing the races and he uses phrases like “nut-brown skin” and “long brown fingers” when describing specific hobbits to back it up.
Fact 2: Britain planted its ravenous imperial flag firmly in the soil of India three centuries before Tolkien wrote The Hobbit. He knew what a brown person looked like. He would know he was not evoking a slightly darker shade of Caucasian when he said a person had brown skin.
Fact 3: Bilbo, Frodo, and all of their friends are aristocracy. Sam is the only hobbit we ever meet who is an actual laborer. In Tolkien’s time, laborers worked in the sun and middle class and aristocracy stayed inside where there was something resembling temperature control. Apart from Sam and Aragorn, no one in the Fellowship (or Company) ever voluntarily got a sunburn. If Tolkien talks about brown skin he’s talking about brown skin, not a farmer’s tan.
Where does this leave us?
Well, Tolkien says that after colonizing the Shire, the three hobbit races mingled more closely and became one. This leaves us with two options.
Option A: He’s talking about that thing that sci-fi writers sometimes do where “everyone is mixed race.” So all three races would have smeared together into a single uniform color. What color? Mostly Harfoot, aka brown. The “strong strain of Fallohide” in the Tookish and Brandybuck lines means maybe they’re white-passing, but in this scenario all hobbits are brown.
Option B: He’s talking about a more melting-pot scenario where visual racial distinctions still exist but everyone lives side-by-side in a fairly uniform culure. The Tooks/Brandybucks having a “strong strain of Fallohide” means that they are themselves remaining strains of Fallohide, and are straight-up white. Merry, half Took and half Brandybuck, is thus white (possibly part Stoor, given Brandybuck comfort with water); Pippin, half Took and half Banks, is either white or biracial. The Baggins family, sensible owners of the oldest and most venerable hobbit-hole anyone knows of, are blatantly Harfoot, making Bilbo and Frodo (half Took and half Brandybuck respectively) also biracial. Fallohides being exclusively adventurous high-class types, and the Gamgees being staid low-class homebodies with a distrust of moving water, Sam is obviously Harfoot and thus completely brown. (Smeagol, a Stoor, is probably white, but as discussed above, doesn’t have to be.) In this scenario, a minimum of three of five heroic hobbits are various shades of brown, four out of five of them could be, and most background hobbits are brown.
In conclusion, if you think all hobbits are white, you are canonically wrong. If you geek out over Aragorn wearing the Ring of Barahir, rage about Faramir trying to take the Ring, and do not even notice, much less complain, that Sam, Bilbo and Frodo are being erroneously portrayed by white guys, you need to reexamine the focus of your nerdery.
So, I fell down a rabbit hole and learned two cool things in relation to the Irish language and Tolkien!
1) He seems to have tried and failed to learn Irish and thought it sounded awful XD
2) In one of his letters where he’s talking about the origin of the word nazg (Black Speech for ring), he says that he thinks it most likely came from nasc, which in modern Irish refers to a tie/bond/link and in older Irish seems to have also referred to ring-shaped jewellery (by which I mean bracelets, necklaces etc, not just finger rings). Technically, he does say that he didn’t do this consciously. He was looking up some stuff about Irish, came across the word and ‘re-learned’ it as such and thought “oop, that’s probably where that came from!” but I still think it’s cool.
Bonus! In that same letter, he describes the Irish language as “mushy” sounding and like, I get what he means? I don’t know why, but I find this description hilarious. He’s not wrong XD
túrin wakes up everyday and chooses violence
when people talk about writing ‘the next Lord of the Rings’ they think it’s all about the wars and the languages and the histories, and Aragorn brooding in the corner of an inn and the Balrog roaring in Moria and the ruins of Isengard, and that’s how we got Game of Thrones and several dozen cheap fantasy knock-offs every year, not to mention whatever nonsense the Amazon show is going to produce
but Tolkien’s wars and languages and histories stemmed from his love of creating - of words and history and mythos - and that love infuses into everything he writes, and if you miss that then there’s no way in hell you can replicate it
and the people who want to write the next Lord of the Rings because they want to write the next epic don’t get that the story is about the hobbits’ soft and simple lives and Bilbo’s poetry and Sam’s love language being food and Eowyn discovering hope after depression and Gandalf making fireworks for hobbits even if he is a literal angelic being, and Aragorn weeping over Boromir’s body and Theoden’s kindness to Merry, and Beregond betraying his most prized orders to save Faramir, and the unlikely friendship between Gandalf and Pippin, and the even unlikelier friendship between Legolas and Gimli, and Sam and Frodo singing to each other in Mordor, and Boromir sacrificing himself for the hobbits, and Sam’s simple love for Rosie, and the restoration of the Shire, and the friendship of the Fellowship surviving down through the ages, and peace after war and hope in darkness, and the love between a gardener and a gentleman pacifist being literally the only thing that saves Middle Earth
and that is why people who try to recreate Lord of the Rings by starting with war always get it wrong. you have to start with the love, or it’s nothing: just another empty history
@helimir brought up such a great point in her tags on this post
The topic of the glory of failure in Tolkien's work is a very interesting one.
In fact, most endeavors end up in failure.
Whether it's Frodo failing to complete his mission, Smeagol failing to free himself of the ring & Gollum, Boromir failing to save the hobbits (or Gondor), the Noldor failing to defeat Melkor, Fëanor & the Fëanorians failing to take their revenge and (for most of them) their Silmarils, Maedhros failing to escape his doom, Fingolfin failing to defeat Melkor, the whole Nirnaeth, etc...
They all fail. But the failure is so epic. So spectacular, there is such a grandeur, such valor & prowess, such tragic beauty, such tales, dare I say, such grace to their failure that could never be found in victory.
They're all still hailed as heroes. (Or at worst, tragic fallen heroes or anti-heroes.)
Whether it's Frodo managing to keep his soul if not his peace & happiness & old life for the mercy & pity & kindness he once showed, whether it's Smeagol unintentionally destroying what destroyed him & saving Frodo's soul, Boromir regaining his honor, Fingolfin leaving a lasting scar on Melkor, Maedhros' true nature finally showing itself after so long in his last moment & expressing such deep shame & regret by killing himself when the Silmarils judged him evil, Maglor's good nature shining through even in his worst moments when he decided to raise the half-elven twins & passed down the best of himself still remained to him to them & them growing up to become such great people, & eventually his good nature showing shame & regret by condemning himself to be forever separated from people & singing songs of regret...as @helimir beautifully expressed, if it's not outright a redemption arc, it at least feels like it. Their struggles mattered, but even more than that, their struggles were what mattered.
Even in things like Nirnaeth that were nothing but catastrophes, they're such beautiful, epic, spectacular catastrophes.
Really, how many endeavors truly result in success?
They made an effort, & therefore, they left an impact. & for that, they went down in history. If not as heroes then at least as tragic figures.
They dreamed, they hoped, they willed, they fought, they tried, they were here.
& that mattered.
If you’re ever feeling down, read this paradigm for “banana” in Icelandic. read it aloud. you will feel better
For Feanorian week, Miriel Serinde, in whose arms began the burning history of Noldor.
consider this: given how much the hobbits are said to love legalese and documentation, I think when the shirriffs tried to arrest Frodo and company on their return Frodo should have just refused on the basis that they have no official proof that he is, in fact, Frodo Baggins
"The Rings of Power" is allegedly-historical fiction being filmed in Sixth Age Gondor and I only want to consume summaries written in the form of Maglor livetexting Daeron his hatewatch of it.
ICYMI: fragments of Kidnap Fam fix-it by Jirt
Here Damrod and Díriel ravaged Sirion, and were slain. Maidros and Maglor were there, but they were sick at heart. This was the third kinslaying. The folk of Sirion were taken into the people of Maidros, such as yet remained; and Elrond was taken to nurture by Maglor. (HoME 5, The Later Annals of Beleriand)
The Third and Last Kinslaying. The Havens of Sirion destroyed and Elros and Elrond sons of Earendel taken captive, but are fostered with care by Maidros (HoME 11, The Tale of Years)
Yet not all the Eldalië were willing to forsake the Hither Lands where they had long suffered and long dwelt; and some lingered many an age in the West and North, and especially in the western isles and in the Land of Leithien. And among these were Maglor, as hath been told; and with him for a while was Elrond Halfelven, who chose, as was granted to him, to be among the Elf-kindred; but Elros his brother chose to abide with Men. (HoME 5, Quenta Silmarillion)
if i could protect turin turambar from all the evil in this world i would
But I can’t talk about climactic sentences in Tolkien’s works without mentioning what is, in my opinion, one of the best things that has ever been written in the English language.
And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn. And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Mindolluin’s sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the North wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.
This is unparalleled. This gives me chills every time I read it. It may be my favorite quote in all of Tolkien’s works, except that choosing a favorite quote would be an impossible decision to make. It’s so inspiring. It’s so moving. It’s so heroic. And obviously, it’s a moment of pure eucatastrophe. Rohan had come at last.
And the moment that Pippin hears the horns of Rohan:
When the dark shadow at the Gate withdrew Gandalf still sat motionless. But Pippin rose to his feet, as if a great weight had been lifted from him; and he stood listening to the horns, and it seemed to him that they would break his heart with joy. And never in after years could he hear a horn blown in the distance without tears starting in his eyes.
I LOVE LORD OF THE RINGS SO MUCH
Have you ever wished there was a comprehensive, easy access resource of Every Tolkien Character Ever? Look no further! Now presenting:
The Tolkien Legendarium Characters Masterdoc!
compiled by @arofili, @ambrorussa aka @welcometolotr, @jaz-the-bard, and @fingons-rad-harp, this spreadsheet contains - to the best of our ability - ALL 1100+ characters that Tolkien incorporated into (or considered for) his Legendarium! this resource is open to the public for perusal and use in your fan projects of all kinds, though its creators are fanfiction writers and we organized the doc with our craft in mind.
we have organized this database by character race/species and Age. each character has attached information on their name(s), cultural/familial affiliation(s), life dates (when known), associated places, textual source, Ages/timeframe of activity, gender, relative canonicity, and brief pertinent information - as well as a link to their page on Tolkien Gateway (our main source) where you can continue your research on any character you choose.
characters of ALL levels of canonicity are represented in this sheet. that includes the wacky, wild stuff from the Book of Lost Tales, as well as Frodo himself! our designations of “how canon” a character is are inherently subjective, and you are free to disagree with our rankings; with this categorization we hoped to give people an idea of what to expect upon exploring the characters yourselves. please consult our Key for information on how we made these decisions. this document is a jumping-off point for your own research!
if there’s something you’d like to sort for that we didn’t provide, you are free to make a copy and reorganize the spreadsheet however you would like. (however, we do ask that you only redistribute the original sheet.)
this sheet includes characters from every text written by Tolkien that we could find information about on Tolkien Gateway. we are only human, and are thus likely to have made some mistakes or missed some characters - if you think that’s the case, please let us know so we can update the document!
if you think there is a character missing, or you would like something added/redacted/altered, contact the sheet owner @arofili on tumblr or annaquenta#6263 on discord and we will consider your request.
in addition to Tolkien’s own characters, we have included some characters who only appeared in Peter Jackson’s film trilogy adaptations. we are open to including characters from other adaptations, but we weren’t familiar enough with those to add them to the document. if you desperately want to see an adaptation-only character in the document, let us know!
we hope this resource is helpful for Tolkien fans of all kinds in learning more about his characters both weird and wonderful! happy headcanoning!
LINK TO THE DOCUMENT: tinyurl.com/TolkMasterDoc
AITA for trying to get back at someone who double-crossed me?
I (ageless, existed before time, F) had a deal with a skeevy guy (also ageless, though not as much as me, M), and it went sour. I want to preface this by saying that none of what I did was technically illegal, just morally questionable if you're of a certain disposition- I most definitely wasn't what anyone had in mind when writing laws. And a girl has to eat.
Anyway, I'll back it up for context. He'd been formerly estranged from his family (also ageless) who moved across the ocean to make a nice gated community after he wrecked their first home and made his own dark abode there, which they were fine with until Children entered the equation. Not my deal, personally, but to each their own. In fairness, that lot are pretty caring (gross), so it makes sense that they'd go far for these kids, saying he'd be a bad influence. Not my business, either, but I will say that they were right.
He reunited with them after they dragged him to their place, and said that he was sorry, which they accepted and let him have free run of it. This is when he contacted me and asked if I'd help him do a job, and he promised me anything I wanted in return. I didn't take him at his word, of course, but even what I'd be able to get on my own would have been a sweet deal. His sister-in-law (selfish) has these two insane trees, that only grow there, and I wanted to get my hands on them. I'm a fiend for fruit, and syrup, you see, but there was no way for me to get in alone. I'd had my eye on the place for a while, and I knew I needed help to get in. So I agreed to be a distraction while he did his thing.
I held up my part of the deal; I was what some might call hangry, and none of his useless family managed to stop me. I marched right up to those trees and had myself a perfect fruit course. Meat and wine provided by the kids who'd thought they could stop me, it was a full charcuterie. They saw my side of it eventually. Anyway, after all that, I was bloated but still hungry- you try starving for millennia and see how you like it-, but it was time to make our escape, and for me to get my payment. The guy shows up at the rendezvous spot and we get away clean. Turns out he'd gotten what he wanted, and offered me payment from that. The usual, a bunch of gemstones, which I take for myself as a snack, and then three beautiful jewels. Three- and when I say beautiful, I mean they're the best things I've seen in my entire life. So I told him, you know what, I'll take those as payment. To be honest, I could've gone for all three, but I figured I'd start small. And he didn't want to give it to me, which is bullshit, because he said I could have anything. Anything means anything.
Anyway, he refused and I never got them. Seriously, it was close; I almost had him beat and wrapped up for later before he called his friends to ambush me and escape like a coward. Whatever, I made him pay for that at least, he cried like a baby.
I don't feel bad about it, I think I'm in the right here, but I was telling my kids this and it's all "mom, what's wrong with you, how could you do that to him" and "mom, seriously?" and "mom, where's dad, did you eat him too?", which seems unreasonable to me. So I thought I'd ask on here.
Tl;dr- this guy tried to cheat me and I attempted to eat him, AITA?0
Nine rings were made for men. Seven for the dwarves, three for the elves, and one for the big guy himself. One, three, seven, nine. There is but a set of five missing to complete the sequence of odd numbers. I propose that this missing set of rings of power was gifted to a mysterious someone by their true love, along with a partridge in a pear tree (among other things). In this essay I will-
this looks like love
~ This was Beleg’s knife. It was more beautiful than any knife he had seen before, the blade covered with intricate designs of leaves and stars and the crossings of rivers and trees.
‘This looks like love,’ his father would have said. He said that about beautiful things wrought with care: knives and swords, baskets, shawls, quilts, jackets. His broken harp. Túrin still didn’t know what it meant. Not entirely. ~
***
Túrin woke to find himself alone. Beleg’s bed was made up, so were the others'. He got up and washed. He was close enough to Menegroth that there was no real danger if he did not run off alone. He drank sweet water and ate lingonberries and cheese and bread.
Beleg had not woken him early, so he would not study to hunt that day. Beleg had let him rest. Perhaps Beleg had gone to hunt without him. Túrin stepped out onto the small porch of the cabin in his nightshirt.
There Beleg sat, making arrows.
‘You’re awake,’ he said. Túrin nodded. He sat cross legged beside Beleg and stared at the sun. It was midday.
‘I slept a long time.’
‘You were tired.’
Túrin nodded again. He bounced his fingers on the bruises on his knees. He liked how his fingers felt as they bounced off his skin. Beleg did not ask him why he did it or call him strange. Túrin swept his hands up and down, turning his hands in the air, so that his fingers came down first facing his knees and then turned from them, again and again.
‘Do I go back to Menegroth today?’ he asked. He reached for mint leaves from the ground and pressed three into his mouth.
‘No,’ Beleg said. Túrin turned his face up to the sun.
‘When then?’
‘In two days.’
‘And then you will go far afield?’ Túrin said. ‘For all the winter?’ He let his hands fly again, bouncing off his knees. He chewed the mint leaves and swallowed their taste.
‘Not for all the winter, I don’t think,’ Beleg answered. ‘I would miss you.’
Túrin stopped bouncing his hands to pick mint leaves for Beleg. He handed them to him. Beleg took them and nodded his thanks. He ate them and kept making arrows.
‘Do you want to speak of which you dreamt?’ Beleg asked.
‘No,’ Túrin said. He waved his hand, letting it spin at his wrist. ‘I think everyone was dead. I was dead.’
Beleg patted Túrin’s knee gently. Túrin brushed the spot when Beleg had pulled his hair back. He didn’t like the lingering touch that seemed to tingle on his skin, even from those he loved. He tried to do it when Beleg wasn’t looking. He had brushed off his father’s touches and kisses. Sometimes he let his mother’s stay, but it agitated him to have a part of his skin even a little wet or a bit different from the rest. He didn’t know why being touched left an impression of the touch on his skin, but it did. He had asked Beleg if he could feel a touch after it was gone. Beleg had said yes, but he hadn’t been bothered by it.
Túrin looked at the yard. It was green and damp. Mud was spreading though. It must have rained a little when he slept. It was quiet, and it smelt like cold rain. Soon the leaves would change colour.
‘Are we alone?’ Túrin asked.
‘Yes,’ Beleg said. ‘The others left last night. They are needed farther North.’
‘Where you will go.’
‘Yes, where I will go.’
Túrin shoved his bare feet down onto the ground. It was soft enough that they sunk a bit into it. It was cold. The grass tickled his skin. Túrin stood and took a large step into the yard. His foot sunk down again, the ground giving a bit beneath him. He walked the yard around like that, in long strides, watching his feet leave impressions in the wet earth, feeling the cold of it.
He liked that the grass was green and not brown. He liked that the ground was wet and not frozen. He ran back to the porch and stood on it with his muddy feet.
‘Wash up,’ Beleg said. ‘You can’t go inside like that.’
‘I know.’ Túrin stood on his tiptoes to touch the very top of the porch where the two slanted roofs met each other.
Beleg patted his leg. ‘Wash. Then put some clothes on. Thingol and Melian will not be pleased if I bring you home ill.’
Túrin wrinkled his nose but threw some cold water from the rain barrel onto his feet and wiped them clean with a rag. He went back inside and came out dressed and with shoes on.
‘Don’t you look darling,’ Beleg said. Túrin had put this underneath ‘strange things that Elves say to each other and sometimes to you but that don’t need a response’ so he tramped off without a response to pee.
He came back to Beleg after and stared at his muddy footprints on the porch where he had been sitting. Beleg gave him a pointed look. Túrin wiped them up with the same rag and hung it over the side of the rain barrel to dry. He sat down again and took the knife that Beleg gave him.
This was Beleg’s knife. It was more beautiful than any knife he had seen before, the blade covered with intricate designs of leaves and stars and the crossings of rivers and trees.
‘This looks like love,’ his father would have said. He said that about beautiful things wrought with care: knives and swords, baskets, shawls, quilts, jackets. His broken harp. Túrin still didn’t know what it meant. Not entirely.
‘This looks like love,’ he said, for maybe Beleg knew the answer.
Beleg studied him. Beleg’s face was ancient but barely lined. It was his eyes that made it ancient. They were like the night sky and all the stars in it – maybe just as old, or maybe younger, but not enough that it would it matter to Túrin when he thought of the ages of the world.
‘Yes,’ Beleg said. ‘Care is love.’
Túrin said no more.
